Blissful new year 2010

Crossing the Roman timeline, closing one chapter, entering the next, another step on the road of our lives, another year, another January 1st, another ball dropping in New York city, fireworks already popping on the other side of the hemisphere, an hour or so ago, it happened in Oakland, New Zealand. Later on tonight, it will be our turn. Meanwhile, the pathways of our lives, stretch, bending into unexpected curves, intertwining, bringing some together, pulling others apart, one moment at a time, Roman standards or not, we move forward, all of us, together, in circuitous circles, today blending with tomorrow, one moment at a time, to the rhythm of the sun and the moon, often fearful, often confused, airing, searching, seeking, helplessly groping for a hint of certainty, hurting ourselves, hurting others, spinning in circuitous circles, seeking peace, seeking love, tasting bliss one breath at a time, all of us, all at once, if only we choose to awaken, if only we choose to awaken.
Be well, and if you can, embrace all of it, the sweet, the bitter, the sad, the happy, the loss, the gain, the gift, the offering, the smile, the frown, the laughter, the cry...
At times embracing, at others resisting

Back in Madison...

Although, I can't say it was voluntary. The Mexican authorities had to kick me out -almost, well... they would have had to if it had been up to me. So, home it is. "Home sweet home. No better place than home," Insists the jingle; and lets face it, home has no savage mosquitoes, no ear infection causing ocean, no lurking in the shadows scorpions, no breath stifling heat waves, no fattening fresh sea food, no rock infested beaches, no reason to dress up lightly, no good-deals' bargaining sales-folks to worry about. Home sweet home indeed.
Be well, and be home wherever you are.
Reconnecting with my surroundings -slowly

First snow storm...

Of the year, coming our way, they say, pretty bad, pretty heavy, they say, and I am watching through the cafe's window, the street made white, and snow, snow, coming, coming, inch over inch, my car getting covered, and writing wants to be about winters, about cozy places, with blankets and sweaters, hot cocoa, a steamy stew, the presence of a loved one, a fire place if possible, not that that's important, we make do with what we have, and snow goes on falling, the streets will soon be stretches of whiteness, very few cars to worry about, just me and the road, and who cares about snow, it is Wisconsin after all. Meanwhile, wherever you happen to be is where you are, is where home is, is where life is. We dream and come back. We dream, get lost dreaming and then eventually come back. Willingly, or unwillingly, sooner or later, we come back. So, be here, be now and be well.
Refusing to wear a coat, feeling alive

December 6th, 2009

Lost another mitten to a trend that is hard to shed.

Meanwhile, the day started with a water creature -unidentified - cutting its way, through the surface of Lake Mendota. A hawk was calmly gliding overhead, with the sun having yet to claim the heavens, the moon, slightly incomplete, but still as bright as Noor's reflection, and the sky, a playground for a flock of gulls.

In the distance an airplane was heading south. I followed it, a bright dot traveling on a trajectory that remained parallel to dawn's crimson hued horizon. I followed it, until it disappeared, until there was nothing left to follow.

A new day starts, a new chance to perfect the art of being. Life is our playground; relax the policy book says. Life is your playground.

Be well, and if you can let the river take you downstream.

Bobbing about in white water

Sarcadian rhythms...

of the soul, move us from darkness to light, in an unending flow of cycles, a stream that moves upward, from shadow to clarity, opposite sides of the same coin, two playful lovers, teasing each other, both following the path of completion, seeking the One, that is both of them, meeting in peace, in harmony...
The mystic within whispered in my ears, as I was driving between clusters of busyness, searching for things I had lost, "We are born with a purpose, learning is our aim, growth is our way, completion is our destination, as we move from fragmentation to Unity." Then, he span around, and went back to his whirling and swirling, making rhymes whose meanings only he could grasp.
Be well, and if you can remember, keep the doors and windows of your heart opened, be a beacon to those who are seeking the Light
Searching within -seeking Noor

December 4th, 2009...

First snow, makes both background and foreground white. The roads are clear, but the flakes are falling, falling, falling... Getting ready takes longer, start the car, let it warm up, scrape the windows, mittens, hat, coat, scarf, boots, and whatnot. It's dark still, early, quiet, not a star, not a moon in sight.

NPR feeds the mind, most of it missing its target. As for what sticks, well, there is a capsized ferry boat in Bangladesh -prayer for the victims and their families, Pakistan bombing -prayer for the victims and their families, a failed coup in Guineas -prayer for the perpetrator and his family, movie review in favor of latest Clooney film, something about flying, firing people, a man, two women -no prayers needed.

"It's a new day, the first day of the rest of your life, make the best out of it, shoot for the stars, if anything, you'll land on the moon," the dreamer shares.

Be well and dream big, especially if you feel like it.

Following a dream, at the threshold of another

December 3rd, 2009...

A full moon overhead, watched me drive through town, shaking my head, NPR feeding my already saturated ears with you know what, News from across the borderline, binding state and nation, Ben Bernanke, the articulate wife of a deployed Captain, this year's Peace Nobel Prize winner asking for more troupes, a restaurant dealing with the economic hardships of our times, expanded menu, mixing things up, breakfast, Pizza...

Meanwhile, I'm dealing with a lingering case of inner-angst, something vague, something pressing, something left undone, always undone, always seeking completion. Busyness helps. Although, one cannot go on running in circles, right? The madman says, "As without, as within..." So I look out of my window, listen to all the noise that is coming my way, and wonder, "Could I be that messed up?" The madman insists, "As within, as without." But then, he's covered in mud, so what could he possibly know... right? So, "Take a shower," I say, "Then come back, and we can talk." He shrugs, doesn't seem to care at bit, walks away. Annoying.

Now, Afghan situation/Iraq the sequel/disappointing Mr. president -I voted for him- set aside, I just dropped 24 oz of liquid coffee on the carpet, at the office, and I probably need to clean the mess up -for a start. After that? Who knows...

Be well, and as the madman said, "It is what it is; we do what we can, we do what we can."

Slowing the clock down

Interesting Tuesdays...

woke up early enough to see the sunrise -beautiful thing, highly inspiring, a narrow strip of undulating land, separating water and sky, a progression of colors from orange to blue-ish, containing a hint of green, stretching on one side towards the heavens, gradually swallowing the stars, reflected on the other over the calm surface of a lake that is barely breathing, its ripples shyly pulsating my way.

Later, there were two hawks to mark the day, symbols of more to come, clarity rushing this way, the healer's touch, and, clouds like feathers, made out of the thinnest sort of filaments, the long strokes of a soft brush, white over the brightest light blue, forming images of who knows what, riddles to be played with, explored and absorbed beneath the veil of consciousness.

Surrounded by blues, liquid and atmospheric illusion, I am truly at home. How about you? What is your color, the one that makes you smile, the one that makes you feel at home?

Be well and, if you've got too much on your plate, running hither and thither, kind of like your humble storyteller here, make sure you take time to remember where, and who, you are.

A feather in the sky, bound to land, yet, enjoying the ride

Busy Mondays...

Should be met with poise, a spirit of appreciation for the Here and Now, accepting the demands and challenges of work as opportunities for growth, seeing the hurdles and obstacles that come our way as blessed fields in which to test and strengthen our patience, learn about ourselves at the edges of our limitations. For what is life but a learning journey. But don't take my word for it, as I've been roaming through strange grounds, (sacred woods, the domain of wizened trees, and guiding spirits, who tend to speak through hawks, crows, seagulls, cardinals, robins, cardinals, squirrels, branches, leaves, and of course, the wind,) and therefore, shouldn't be held liable for these lines I'm compelled to compose and share, don't you think?
Otherwise, the writer is awake, and the entrepreneur is throwing a fit, which is exactly what he does best. But as the medicine-child said, "One thing at a time. One thing at a time..." Not that I listen, but maybe, he's onto something of value. Let me know what you think.
Be well, and if you see the sun, don't hesitate to smile, especially if the moon is there too.
Rushing into things, whenever I am not paying attention

Black Friday...

The sleeper -in-me woke up later than usual, wasn't able to make it to any of the big stores openings to enjoy all those great doorbuster-super-deals -oh, well. I saw a hawk, second in less than 24hrs -always a good thing, stopped at the office, (table by the outlet at the Borders cafe area, I am the guy with the long hair, lots of blue, and a bunch of stuff on the table), to do some writing, the inspiration department is on steroids, and I can barely keep up -wish I had a voice recorder, the old kind, with tape and all, and let us not forget the large buttons, they're very important. Otherwise, well, it's Friday, and it feels like Saturday. It's supposed to be cold out there, but is sure looks enticing from my table. Sunny. I hear the woods' spirits calling my name. But I have to work. But they don't care. Life is happening. Make a choice, and choose from the gut. Don't over-think. There are no rights, no wrongs, that go unbalanced. Be well. The world is a mess, yet it is good, most of the time, and depending on your expectations. Be well, and if you can, play at going with the flow.
Barreling downstream in white water -fun times.

Tuesday morning...

woke up at 4am, already running late, for who knows what, angst already whispering in my ear, tightening its grip around my chest. Words, words, a story wanting to be told, stuck somewhere between the mind and the hand, messages pressing forward, pushing their way out, bulldozing through everything that resembles an obstacle, yet the resistance is strong, and so, I remain a battered battlefield.

Not that I'm complaining, and what should I complain about, a pleasantly safe life, a lack of desperate fools blowing themselves and whoever happens to be close enough to share the messy ride to Eternity, the missing sound of heavy artillery pounding the landscape into a potholed field of desolation, not being an item sold in that horrifyingly lucrative slave trade, not being a drug addict in a country that doesn't know what to do with drug addicts, except turn them to hardened criminals...?

I guess, I don't have much to complain about, unless I try real hard, show dedication to the cause. But honestly, what could I possibly complain about, or for, on my side of the world, this safe haven of mine, where I shall pretend with others that all is well in this temporarily isolated world of ours, I'll say that all is well? Yes, there is a huge mess all around us, but as long as my doorstep is clean, who cares about the rest, right?

But then again, and like the mad-medicine man said, between two puffs of whatever he was smoking, "It is all a play of shadows and light. You can choose to focus on the light, or you can choose to linger on the shadows. No matter what you choose, we're all part of the big picture. So let's try to make it pretty while we're at it, don't you think?"

Otherwise, I wish you a feast of gratitude and turkey -if turkey applies.

Be well.

Sarcastically writing in pre-dawn's darkness

Friday morning...

happened to be listening to NPR, driving to the office, noticing more cars than usual for that time of day, a few hours before the sun begins peering from the east, a glimmer of light, pinkish hues, and shy blues, or maybe not, as there are enough clouds spread overhead to cloak the scene -oh well, and anyway, I am digressing from the main issue here, so hang in tight as I make a sharp u-turn and get this ship on the right track...
Voila! So NPR it was, and to be more precise, the piece that grabbed my attention by the horns, came right after a great deal of talk on the new Cancer screening guideline, and was titled Fungus Provides Clues To North American Extinctions -click on the title for more details on this fascinating subject. But for those of you with little time and patience for link browsing, I'll summarize its content, as follows:
Scientist posits, (basing herself on new approach, having to do with the study of dinosaur dung loving fungus deposits, in North American portion of continent,) that humans might have caused over-sized antediluvian mammals' extinction, instead of a comet hitting the blue planet, or ice age related frostiness...
Anyway, I thought I'd share, or maybe I was just hoping that by telling you about it, I might distill this image, that is now floating inside my cranium, of humans spreading like a dark cloud of locusts, heading south, a bit like carnivorous geese migrating to the Florida Keys, or wherever it is that geese migrate to.
So kudos NPR and dinosaur-dung-aficionado-like-fungus studying scientist! Way to go! Way to give something to be of when I contemplate my roots! Yes! Got to be proud -wouldn't you say?
Be well, and by the way, where is the moon? I haven't seen her for quite some days now.
Missing my moon

State Street...

I've been meaning to write this piece for over a week now, and yes it is somewhat related to the most interesting urban-like area of Madison, Wisconsin. As to the what, well... it all started on a sunny, but cool, first-week-of-November day. I had just entered State Street from the Memorial Library food-court-cum-square, when my eyes met those of one of the regulars who, as is his habit, was squatting on the sidewalk, right in front of the Walgreens entrance, selling copies of the Street Pulse -Madison's Homeless Cooperative Newspaper.
Sticking to our usual routine, I nodded and said hi. Merlin -that's his nom de plume- smiled and asked if I wanted a paper, and I responded no. But, then we began free-styling... I inquired, "So how is everything?" And his response was, "Not too bad, I'm trying to make some money to pay the homeless shelter. It's getting cold and I'd hate to be kicked out -or something very close to that.
How would you respond to that? As far as I'm concerned, there is just one way, and it involves buying that paper. So, I did, and by doing so, (and I will not go into how I felt about it, whether it was the right thing to do, or not, NGOs doing their deed in Africa come to mind) I came to learn that the Street Pulse doesn't actually have a fixed price. No, you pay as much as you want/can.
Now, and as to the reason for my sharing this story of mine, (and setting aside the fact that I enjoyed the paper's content, especially Merlin's Column,) I have been struggling to understand Merlin's choice of life style. On the one hand, we have over-achievers who will not quit until they get a good ulcer, or a cardiac infraction, and I think I can place myself within this group, and on the other we have people who maintain the status quo, no matter what the status quo is. I understand that each one of us is a web of complexities, and that there are so many reasons why what is is so much more complicated than what we perceive, but I just cannot understand how someone as articulate, intelligent, and sociable as Merlin can go on selling newspapers in front of Walgreens, on State Street, year after year, (I've been here for five long ones and so has he,) instead of trying, and maybe he is trying harder than I could ever try, but I don't know that, I don't see that... I see him there, and the bottom-line is over a billion famished souls would, literally, sell their souls to Beelzebub to be where he is, meaning in the US of A, so as to have a shot at whatever version of the American dream they happen to adhere to. This world of ours is complicated, ripe with failure, brimming with potential, dampened with sorrow, brightened with joy -and in the end who am I to judge Merlin, or anyone else.
Be well, and remember that what you are is way more than what you're showing.
Seeking the sun that shines within

Esperanza...

has been very demanding these last couple of weeks, but not in a negative way. Rather, It's been challenging me to get out of my comfort zone, reach out, talk to strangers, spread the word, do a bit of selling, which I have never been good at -an oddity given that I was born in Morocco, the land where commerce runs in the veins of the populace.

Otherwise, I am a busy doer. Even when I stop to contemplate, meditate, feel, and be, I am still a doer -and maybe the fact that Mars rules my birth-date has something to do with it. Driven, I am, always was. Competitive to a fault -I wonder who it is I am trying to impress? Am I looking for approval? Am I caught in a cycle that no longer holds any constructive purpose, repeating the same patterns out of habit, avoiding a little face-to-face with reality, as it is Now and Here? Although, that isn't absolutely true, the image I have just drawn for you is an extremely negative one -another pattern.

So, let us give credit where credit is deserved: change is here, and I am part of it, whether I acknowledge it or not. Already, healing is taking place, as I delve into a world where Spirit and Nature are one. A personal shamanic journey has been in the making for quite some time now, and, while I profess no occult powers, I have to say that Spirit is guiding my steps -the skeptic in me winces, but even he cannot deny this statement. Serendipity is at work, opening unexpected doorways, unexpectedly connecting me with others who too are seeking the way. Slowly, knots are coming undone, as I err by sacred sites where ancient people were buried, by water, over earth, amongst tree, hawks, crows and other animal spirits guiding my steps, in a world of symbols and intuitive ceremonies -demented? Very probable, but would I want it otherwise?

I remember telling Noor how much I disliked the congestion of woods. Now I walk amidst bushes, brambles and trees as if it were my playground, my labyrinth... Funny how blind-sided we can be... Funny how much we can change...

To Noor -always ahead, always clear. You inspire and we try to follow.

Shifting...

the river of time always changing, never the same, I fail to replicate what was experienced yesterday. Each moment a unique manifestation of consciousness, we are cruising over a stream of continuous creativity -forgive the redundancy. There are doing days and thinking days. There are pushy-right-in-your-face days and soaringly elusive, nuance-filled days. There are happy days and sad days, and thus we could go down or up the dichotomies' list, moving over a sinuous intensity curve, along a winding track of uniqueness that knows neither beginning nor end. Meanwhile, the crow caws, 'There is magic in the air, can't you see?' And another goes, 'There is magic in the air, won't you see?' And a third adds, 'I think them blind. I think them lost. Let us caw some more. Maybe they'll hear us. Maybe, they'll realize that there's magic in the air.' And so the crows go on cawing for whomever wishes to awaken. The choice is ours. Or so claims the mad fool dwelling within.
Be well.
Listening to crows, guided by hawks, basically going bonkers and loving it.

Esperanza...

is now available on paperback at Barnes and noble.com and Amazon. com. Another step, another job well done. Tap on the shoulder. A hug. Confetti raining. Champagne corks popping. The DJ is playing '80s feel-good music -cause I am still wearing that decade's state of mind. Now, what are you waiting for? Get the book, read it, share it with others. As for the side-effects... I don't know, it depends on the subject. It varies, you know. But we are still looking into it, and will let you know, once we get the results. Meanwhile, Esperanza is out there, waiting for you. Enjoy.
Be well and do smile -its supposed to be good for... well just about everyone.

A Sunday like no other...

That is how this past Sunday felt. Special in so many ways; soul seeking Spirit. Balance at the edge of the unknown. Communion taking place. A rain of symbols, the wind whispering, 'Take a chance, do what's right, follow your heart.' Some see delusion as a malady, I say it is a blessing. One step leading to the next, my medicine-man winks and says, 'Be careful what you wish for...' Of course, being a trickster, he already knows that his advice will serve no purpose, for we are born with our wishes, and as his mischievous wink reveals, Fate goes on drawing pathways, playing with crossroads and forking intersections.
Be well, and if you can, slow down and listen.
Hanging-ten, the wave still rolling, revealing a world of possibilities

Yoga class...

I took one this past Saturday morning, although prior to heading there the intuition was strongly pulling me elsewhere, and toward the water, as if to bear witness to the moon still radiant in blue daylight, as if to appreciate the sun already warming up this southern of Wisconsin, where the tent called 'home' has been erected for a little more than five solar years.
Yet, to the yoga class I drove, and to this yoga studio I entered. A different world than the one I am used to. The teacher, a sort of adulated super star. The gathering, more social and networking-oriented than anything else. A pleasant crowd. An interesting teacher. The focus was on breathing, with emphasis on the proper rhythmic movement of the diaphragm, awareness of spinal alignment vis-a-vis the requirements of shifts in posture. Overall, it wasn't bad. I'd say it was good. None of that, commercialized yoga business that has been flourishing just about everywhere.
As for my own journey with yoga, the class made me think, made me consider... What is it I want? Where is it I am heading? Questions brought to the forefront of consciousness, bubbling upward and bursting with a pop. My shoulders tense, my breathing becomes defensive, because it worries me that I do not know the answers. Who am I? I ask. The writer, The yoga teacher, the traveler, the surfer, a Wisconsonite, a bit of everything, round curves rather that well defined corners to grab a hold of, say this is who I am, this is what I do, this is where I belong...
Meanwhile, life pulls and inspires the dreamer out of his comfort sphere towards the unknown, always towards the unknown, and so I dream, and so I err.
Be well, and if you happen to be erring, stop, take a moment, and come to know yourself.
Lost between shores, the tides deciding.

Hawks hovering about...

Reality eclipsed, meaningful symbols slipping over the surface of day-to-day consciousness, the mundane brushed aside, truth so close, barely glimpsed, a chimera, a dream, pulsates, teases... Intuition aroused, awakened, we walked from Cafe Zoma to the effigy mounds, sacred spaces, earth teaching, earth inspiring. The wind was blowing, stirring the spaces between spaces. Life. Change coming. Transformation. Words, thoughts, impressions mingled with the appearances of hawks, messengers from the other side, Spirit calling, heralding the coming of tipping points... Otherwise, it was another day, another lesson, another step, as to where we're going, what we're doing, don't ask, the fool in me, might be summoned, and who wants that, even if the fool knows the way.
Be well, as autumn sets in.
One with confusion, still, and always, a step from glimpsing Truth...

Pink attack...

Obama was elected a year ago -time's good at fleeting, faster when heading back, hitting the 1 year mark in a second, 10 years in two, 50 in three... someone should study this.

Yesterday, I had a story in the oven, but work got in the way, and the story was never baked, instead I gave birth to some essay, which, like Dr. Frankenstein's baby, might cause the masses to wince and cringe. But, oh well, the masses and how they feel shouldn't be a deterrent here, as long as they stay away from their sticks, hatchets and pitchforks.

So here we are, you are welcome to click on the link, but you'd have been warned.

Be well and do your dance, it might just be what the medicine man, or woman, I'm not rigid on this subject, would recommend.

P.S: As for the link and before I forget, well here it is: Pink uppercut

N1Z1...

Heading to work this morning, I felt the call of inspiration. A story was in the making. It came as I was half-listening to the news, while doing what is my own version of driving -let it be known that I admit being a terrible driver. But that is besides the point, with the point being that I, following the muse's call, having arrived to the office, the sun still out of sight, sat at the assigned desk, and began tap-tapping on the keyboard, so that a few hours later, this offensive essay was born. Her name is N1Z1. She is my baby, freshly baked, and it has been while, since the oven released anything new -how ecstatic, don't you think? Anyway, I invite you to read it, unless you happen to be of the type that takes things too seriously, then I'd rather, you pretend I haven't said anything. So, here we are, and that is that. So be well, and do the thing that makes you really you... 'cause otherwise, it's called pretending -but that is just my opinion, right?
P.S: so, here it is: N1Z1

Change is in the air...

Autumn and its winds of trans- formation never fail to have a strong effect on my life. Born in February, I appreciate the electrifying nature of October passing the relay baton to November. This is my favorite time of the year, and cloudy days are definitely not included in this friendly party.

Good things happen. Then again, good things happen all the time; but some of us just fail to notice. Sometimes it's because we forget to look around, put the personal in perspective, change viewpoints, harden a bit, solidify around our goals, our plans, harden some more, become stubborn, bulldozers of will set on a narrow track. Do you know what I mean?

Reehtales.com is going through a make-over, colors, pictures, and, I hope, content. But then again, we'll have to wait to see what it will look like in its temporarily finished state.

Life is change, and Autumn is the season of change, for those born with a Saturnian streak. Autumn is the season of druids and apprentice alchemists -my innner shaman, kid you not, just rolled his eyes at this nonsense. I ask, "What kind of shaman are you?"

Anyway, and to summarize, www.reehtales.com is going through some changes, and Esperanza will soon be available at Barnes&Noble.com, Amazon.com and at who knows where else...

Be well, and if you can, stay grounded, and remember we're only here for a blip of a moment, right?

Between Paris and Rio...

A large Airbus disappears, crew and passengers included, leaving too many lost in the tragedy. Meanwhile life goes on, for the rest of us, who are given yet another day, maybe less, to be part of this ongoing existential party, into which we awaken, not knowing where we came from, how we've gotten here, (at least I don't,) not sure how long we're meant to stay, when, or how, we'll be kicked out.

Over two hundred lives dispatched, like this, forgive me if I linger on the subject, but given my tendency to frequent airports, a historical track mired with years of deep involvement in the aviation industry, and two many hours spent dissecting these complex flying contraptions, I just can't help feel the crash as it might have taken place, in more ways than is necessary to imagine.

Like sharks, airplanes make me nervous. And as much as I enjoy the convenience of air travel, I, honestly, don't think we are meant to move that fast, or that high. Being airborne frightens me, always has, yet I insist on making reservations, and swiping my favorite Mastercard to collect travel points -go figure.

In old seafaring times, shipwrecks were a common occurrence, and surely a risk for anyone bent on traveling with the currents, but at least the risk was taken in the name of either discovery, exploration, commerce, or shear desperation. Our ancestors, well at least the restless, dreamy and motivated, ones, in order to better their lot, faced the odds and ventured into the unknown -good for them.

Now my question is, since this globe of ours has been thoroughly mapped, over-populated, over-commercialized, over-polluted, and if we exclude the odd visit to some distant relatives, the 'fun' family reunion, or the feel-good volunteering tourist venture, and the quick honeymoon, why do we bother? Is it wiring? Could travel be embedded in our double-helixes? Or is the need romantically imprinted in our psyche? All I know is that like Ibn Battuta, a glorified bumming uncle of mine, I just can't stop.

Relating to the departed, more than to the newly arrived, I wish you, whether you're coming, going, or staying, a wonderful journey. Be well, and may we find what we're looking for.

When the going gets rough...

Existence has always been associated with compli- cations, for compli- cations somehow, and as absurdly sounding as this cliche continues to feel, no matter how much the pundits of hard-toiling lifestyles insist on pressing their faith-based views upon the rest of us, enrich our passage on this life-sustaining planet, giving our experiences a certain je ne sais quoi that could be equated with the most pleasing and intoxicating colors, flavors and aromas to have ever been produced, marketed and distributed on a global scale.

And talking about markets of global scales, I recently found out, while browsing the latest edition of the Econimist, that certain developing countries, mostly fervent recipients of food-aid programs, addicted to sweet NGOs interventions, have began leasing large portions of their arable lands to richer foreign governments. Imagine privatization blown into the nth degree, and that's how large these deals are.

How did this come to happen? Well, and to the best of my understanding, it seems that countries such as China, South Korea, UAE, Saudi Arabia and Qatar, deterred by the rising price of imported agricultural products and, in some cases the scarcity of water in their own turfs, being major crop importers and all, are choosing to outsource their farming needs.

Now, please forgive me as I raise a suspicious eyebrow, while a few questions begin swirling in my already helplessly crowded cranium in search of clarification. Then allow me to ask the following: How does this type of land acquisition transpire on the ground? How does these large scale land-grabs, water included, affect the local rural populace of such countries as Brazil, Mali, Angola, Tanzania, Cambodia, Sudan, Gabon, Madagascar, and Pakistan? Why am I foreseeing poor farmers being pushed off land they’ve built their lives on for generations? Why am I reminded of certain episodes reminiscent of the colonial era?

Certainly, the fact that the investing governments, in these particular instances, are getting some pretty sweet deals in return, (i.e., tax exemptions, right to import the entire crop back home, the end product being either rice, wheat, barley, or palm oil -you know... for biofuel use- as apposed to a diversely bio-sustainable arrays of food stuffs;) or that a million Chinese laborers, bless their hearts, will be, or are already, transposed on African soil this very year to do work that, I guess, inadequately trained Africans can't possibly comprehend, let alone perform; and let us not forget the use of heavy-duty agricultural technology, mutant seeds, and impossibly sophisticated pesticides, the whole thing amounting to a rather worrisome image, doesn’t help me see the silver lining in this sort of arrangement.

Am I over-reacting? Maybe, I am. Who knows... Surely, I'm just too confused to get a good pragmatic grip on this one.

Be well, and remember not to sweat the small stuff -right?

In Paris...

We frequented the terraces of cafe/bar/restaurant-type establishments, shoulders brushing against many stranger-type patrons, whenever a bodily adjustment was made, so closely were we casually crammed. Conversations intertwined, comments exchanged, questions made, jokes acted out, while pages and pages of personal matters, punctuated by the occasional laughter, floated over our heads carried by thick clouds of cigarette smoke.

Sipping proudly made and served coffee, I noticed how I was loving every ounce of it. Being stripped of my adoptive country's established standards for personal space didn't feel as irksome as I would have predicted had I taken time to consider the issue. Perhaps, this has something to do with my having spent two thirds of my life in an ex-French colony.

On the other hand, I ached for the good ways of my US of A each time I had to pay for restroom privileges, got lost on complicated romantic national roads, couldn't find free Wi-Fi cafes and meatless menus.

As for perfection, I do not think it exists, except in theory, and even then, one has to be compromising.

Be well, and enjoy what is at hand -it is as beautiful as you make it. Now, if you're an unremittingly stubborn romantic with a bend toward seeking perfection, I wish you all the good things you dream of.

Unremittingly stubborn romantic and proud of it.

Overheard tidbits of conversations...

Collected, as the lunch hour slips by, in a bookstore chain cafe. Surrounded by sound, I filter and select, seeking the unusual word, phrase, expression... To my left, a Dell laptop is rapidly purchased, through a six-minute meeting, all vagaries set aside, seller and buyer keeping it to a bare minimum -they had never seen each other. A few minutes after their departure, a couple of talkative characters, highly learned in the ways of TV shows, discuss the world in a most loquacious exchange of critical ideas and thoughtfully formulated opinions. Behind me, two senior citizens, comfortably anchored in two soft leather bound seats, argue, with rich dialectic repartees, what with society, the fall of mankind, the generational cultural demise... All is mixed in, and I'm not sure what the outcome of any of it happens to have been, as I turn off the monitor, and pack my belongings, stand, and ready my noisy-self to exit the building.

In search of inspiration, or sometimes in the spirit of procrastination, every detail counts.

From this window into a writer's most personal corner, I trust you have glimpsed, deduced, determined, concluded, etc. etc... that the creative path is not for the faint of heart.

Otherwise, busy fingertips, a deluge of keystrokes, deeply pensive looks, odd pantomimed monologues -enacted in public of course, a critically raised eyebrow thrown here and there -to the best of my ability, is what I am all about.

Be well, and do support the arts.

Something about phising sites...

invading my privacy, feels rather disturbing, and if someone else had told me about their own experiences with such fraudulent practices, I admit, that I wouldn't have been able to relate to their problem.

However, this past Sunday, and as I was lulling in a peacefulness attributed to living in the Midwest, I came face to face with one of these sneaky predatory tools, disguised as a message from one of my many virtual friends on Facebook. The message asked me to check a certain website, and I, not expecting the worst, went ahead and checked. Suddenly, my laptop froze, and I had to reboot it.

A while later, another message was sent to let all those who might be at risk know about the phishing scheme. Obviously it was too late for me. Or maybe not, maybe my virus protection software did what it was supposed to. I don't know, and I simply cannot discard the wild suspicion that some sort of bug has embedded itself in my laptop. Yes, maybe I let in some Freakish binary spy that is recording every key stroke I make, collecting usernames and passwords, and sending daily reports to some resourceful nerdy villain -now, somehow this idea is stressing me out, go figure.

Anyway, what I am trying to say here, is: If you get some kind of message from me, asking you to check some website address, well, don't. So, there you have it. My job is done.

Be well, keep your guard up, and trust that gut feeling when it tugs at your senses.

Memorial week-end...

passed, the departed were remem- bered, as banners, flags, and radio-wave interviews filled the backgrounds of our Monday. Then there were the mosquitoes, North Korea's missile testings, outrage in the White House, talk of repercussions, UN imposed sanctions. Slowly, but surely, the enemy is defined, as very different from us, immorality incarnated, the embodiment of evil.

Meanwhile, much suffering is felt in too many parts of this small world of ours, as less than 1% of the global population controls, in the most carelessly selfish of ways, more than 90% of the global wealth, blinded by numbers, profit margins, the sanctity of markets, insulated from the cries of children, mothers, the old, the unemployed, the trampled, the forgotten, the used, the maimed, and the departed.

Then, there is music, laughter, friendship, love, the sun when clouds dissipate, the cool breeze on a hot afternoon, Oceans, mountains, hills, valleys, birds, cats, butterflies, ice cream cones, random acts of kindness, children playing, innocence and so, so much beauty...

Be well, as life spins from perfection to imperfection to perfection...

Meadering on Mendota's lakeshore path...

I came across an unexpected character, a snapper, my first. Within a few minutes, a crowd formed around this dinosaur-like creature, as it painstakingly clumped its way, rather ungracefully for my taste, across the path and a grassy ascending hill, heading for a large bed of reeds on the other side of the road. Hands reached into pockets to pull cell phones and snap a couple digital pictures of the thing. Meanwhile, a few of us, acting as good caring Samaritans, moved to stand on the road to save the little oddity from being turned into a dead and flattened oddity.

A little while later, I saw a shirtless young man, wearing a single black glove and playing with a baton, making the same series of twirls, over and over, with dogged determination. For some reason, I found myself wishing he'd stop. So there you have it. Don't say I never shared anything with you.

Be well, and if you're looking for strange occurrences, take a walk around the nearest University grounds, I'll bet you a great deal that you will not be disappointed.

I had a plan...

A well crafted plan, then Shifty Time got involved, and the plan was once again eroded into the finest and most malleable of substances. I say again because I've carried many plans, only to see them, turned into dust, as Life does its thing, prods and tests the validity, the resolve, of my aim. Then, perhaps finding my stance, my vision, too rigid, turns to the alchemist within, and suggests with a knowing nod that he feeds the fire churning beneath the cauldron of Manifestations, while stirring me, body, mind, soul and spirit, into a whirling soup of probabilities. Thus, the dance begins once again -as for the steps... well we make them up as we go.

Be well, and be inspired.

6:45am...

A single engine aircraft begins circling our condo. Immediately, I am propelled to old memories of WWII bombardments -not that I was there, but if you've watched as many war movies in your childhood as I have, you'd probably see it as I do.

Madison is under siege, I maintain -how else could you explain the maimed roads, the police blockades near WholeFoods, a couple days ago, and now this little but awfully loud airplane hovering to no end over our heads. Indeed, Madison is under siege.

Yet, despite the noise and the madness, there is still beauty to be found, glimpsed, touched and appreciated, i.e., tall grass undulating, brushed by the wind, moving so much like the surface of my beloved ocean, swaying trees and bushes, less clothing on people, a blue sky stretching over more shades of green than I can notice.

The bug bites are itching still, but recovery is rather close, such is the price of globe-trotting -on a budget- in the sake of globe-trotting.

Wise bird hummed in my ear sometime yesterday, singing a song about how censored I seem. "Who are you?" it asked, pointing at the flaws in my depictions of the world. Wise bird, I am both this and that, I wanted to say. Yes, caustic, sweetly sarcastic, with a bite of bitter realism to repartee any fancy-dreamy-I-am-so-happy-about-life display that happens to come my way, I am. But, I am also in a state of awe,responding as best as I can to the fullness of life's give-and-take, as change, morph,and hopefully grow in the right direction. Did I lose you? Did I confuse you? Well then, my job is done. I shall keep you on your toes, Wise bird. And I expect the same from you.

Other than that, well, a beautiful day, this is, indeed. There's been much time offered to downloading pictures from the trip. And, I am compelled to say, "Enough already. Out we go, where the sun is being rather close."

Be well, enjoy your peculiarities.

Flamenco music...

accompanies me as I attempt to compose the following, should I add, in the spirit of heroic imagery, weighed down by a sprouting case of seasonal allergies, I crawl, elbows and knees battered by this ego-centered effort, over the rough texture of a blank page.

As for the intended content, well the world is too itchy at the moment for me to concentrate, so bear with me, as I pause and try to find the right jumbled string of thoughts. Yes, here it is:

It appears that Madison has been invaded by a restless army of construction crews. Not only are they restless, but they are also everywhere. I tell you there is just no escaping their blockades. Clouds come and go, but this infestation of urban improvement is of a consistently-present nature. So I ask you: Who amongst us enjoys living in a construction site?

Otherwise, past the allergens and the blockades, the world is a wonderful place, colorful trees and whatnot...

Be well,

Tour-ism...

is quite the endeavor, at least when I have something to do with it. So many places, peoples and moeurs. A thousand digital pictures, a trail of used batteries, a heap of crumpled receipts and brochures, and a good dose of well traveled germs, laundry to be done, bags to be quarantined and then disinfected, and so much, so much rest to be had.

Finally there is a whole world, met and appreciated, all senses involved, now slipping away, Time an ever-growing divide, between the loveliness of places, the cultural peculiarities that elate the mind, the gardens that speak to the heart, and the good coffee that pleases the senses... all a postcard viewed and misplaced, as we a awaken to the realities of our day-to-day obligations, for we are once again, back home -wherever that is.

So Madison it is. For now, at least.

Be well, and if you can, seek the path that awakens

Who am I anyway?

Maybe I’ve changed. No, I know I did. It happened a while ago, and without trying to be specific, I’d say, after a couple of years living in the US of A. Riding that adrenaline pumping roller-coaster process of integration, swooshing through enjoyment and nausea, over and over again, in spiraling twists, and heart-stopping drops, completely confused as of why I had stood in line and gotten on board this health wrecking journey in the first place, half-wishing I could get off, unaware that I was morphing from within, so that by the time, I stepped out of the Milwaukee court house, a brand-spanking-new naturalized citizen of this great country of dream-pursuers, I had become less flexible, less willing to participate in the inefficiency of others. Today, I expect things to meet my highest expectations, especially if I am to pay for them. Not only that, but I expect respect, courtesy, and why not, a dash of brownnosing, then let’s not forget a great deal of warranties extended from the vendor’s part. Yes, I want impeccable service and that legally withheld, and mostly comforting, agreement which implies the possibility of a full refund.

How did this happen so quickly? Didn’t I spend my most influential years in Africa? Am I not a product of it's impressively inefficient bureaucratic ways? Didn’t I roam its shoreline without a worry in mind, enjoying the madness? Didn’t I bribe a thousand officials? And didn’t I feel at home in utter unruliness? Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yet, here I am raising an eyebrow whenever someone tries to jump the waiting line, whenever a cashier shows me the slightest hint of attitude. Who would have thought? Truly, I’ve come so far, and without even trying. Today, like every self-respected citizen of my beloved US of A, I demand the best, and lo and behold, if I don’t get it –take note, salesmen, you’ve been warned. The previous sentence doesn't apply to airlines -yet.

Do I have any regrets? Not really. I am at one with the critic I’ve become, even when this new me is a breathing, walking, nagging and complaining social migraine, especially when traveling outside of my safe consumerist haven, and into the world of Barbaria, meaning anywhere outside this glorious territory of ours, and Dubai –which I can’t afford, but still have to mention, in the name of diversity.

To be continued...

Stumbling,

I fall, and haven hit the ground, my initial reaction is to self-consciously wince, and take a quick glance at my surrounding, so as to see if anyone has taken notice of my less than perfect maneuver.

Why is that? I wonder. Why do I care what other might think of me? And most of all, what does this say about my confidence?

Suppose, I catch someone staring at me, in this somewhat demeaning position, or even worst, it is actually a group of people, finely dressed, displaying elegance, a tinge of affluence, what is it that happens in my subconscious mind, at that moment? What thoughts course through me, so fast I fail to discern their superficiality?

Are we what others make of us? Are we what others decide we are? Surely, if this is the case, ours is a terrible burden to carry along, as we go through life, worried and fearful, perpetually engaged in being careful not to make a mistake, not to offend, not to make too much noise, not to step out of line, not to take risks, and on, and on...

So, I say, let us be ourselves, with as much honesty, zeal and fearlessness, as we can muster, and let whomever wants to point that judging finger enjoy the show. Life is now. It is as beautiful, and as glorious as what we do of it.

Be well, and do from the heart.

Waiting...

waiting. Do you know the game, where the clock keeps on ticking, and work is on hold, until higher powers decide to intervene? I did my part a while ago, to be exact it was Friday morning, and I was fairly confident to get this thing going by nine this morning... But, no, no, no. I get to wait, and time is fleeting, and buses come once every hour, which means, I miss the next one, and the to-do-list is still calling my attention.

Heavens, I breathe and breathe out, eyes shifting from the monitor where the 'messianic' reply will appear to release me, and the window with a view on a busy Campus street -a street I should have been walking on, right now.


Breathe in. Breathe out.

Life shouldn't be wasted this way -and I don't care what the wise teacher says.

Be well, and if you can, be patient.

Impatiently waiting

The Inca Q'ero

Follow your own footsteps
Learn from the rivers
The trees and the rocks.
Honor the Christ,
The Buddha,
Your brothers and sisters.
Honor your Earth Mother
and the Great Spirit.


Honor yourself and
all of creation.
Look with the eyes
of your soul and
engage the essential.

between jumping...

And a heavy dose of data entry, I take a moment to think of all those I've been blessed to meet along the way to the other side of being here. From those who conceived to those who smiled, from those who offered to those who allowed, from the closest to the most distant, from those who brought joy to those who came to teach with force, I am and have been blessed for the exchange, for having shared the same spaces, as without all of you, I wouldn't be here, now, the fellow I am.

The world is getting smaller and smaller, and somehow, whether we like or not, we are in it together, from Kabul to Kathmandu, from Casablanca to Madison. Strangers, brothers, sisters, teachers, friends, coworkers, neighbors, Humans, Earthlings, call us whatever you wish, we are all dancing together, to the rhythm of time, to the song of life.

Otherwise, I have been in front of this computer for too long, and this is no way to spend a Saturday evening -is it? So, go have fun, get out, stay in, get comfortable, get happy, and if you have time, do a dance, and think of me. The lunatic teacher is screaming outside, making a huge scene, "Get out, you fool!" -better heed to his call.

Be well, be well.

A moment in a lifetime

A thousand actions...

and as many reactions. I invite you to slow down, take a few deep breaths, go for a rejuvenating walk, expose your face to the sun, feel the breeze, allow the air's freshness to awaken your senses...

Be well and, if inclined, indulge in moderation.

Zooming by

Much happening...

The mind races around on circuitous tracks, blending cycles, making me dream at high velocities. Meanwhile, there is an infinity of scenarios and possibilities taking place outside of myself, out there, a bit in you, a bit around you, and the rest is usually divided amongst the rest of creation, as life flows through each and everyone, and even the toughest rocks get their share.

Yet, we get caught in our own little labyrinthine microcosmic words, you know the ones that are born in our heads, to be sustained by our hearts, full of affairs so large they dwarf everything else, and with lots of practice, we become experts turning the smallest grains of sand into immovable mountains.

Why do we do this? And how can we stop? But, most importantly, are we willing to change? Die hard habits are a bit tricky to deal with, much like substance abuse, and I am talking about the heavier stuff here, i.e. requiring group support, time-off, eye opening major life events. And even then, the recovery is still a shaky affair, and the precipice a few inches from your toes.

Yet, the teacher comes and goes, a bit clumsy in his drunkenness, singing, "Life is play, Life is a sand dune, always moving, always shifting, always, always. Why do you go on fighting, and struggling, and being so serious about building your temples on sand, I just don't know. Go play, and stop suffering. Life is play. Life is a wave that comes over and over to flatten your castles in a playful way."

Be well, and if you see the teacher, run the other way, avoid him like the dark plague, don't give him a chance, don't let him lull into believing in his playful ways, or he'll pester you for the rest of your life. Then again, there is always worst.

An unruly disciple

P.S: There is been some minute changes made to reehtales.com. Also, a flier was added to www.pranasurfing.blogspot.com.

Updates and...

Transformation, sweeping through the plains of my day-to-day affairs. There's been a few changes made to reehtales.com, with the addition of a page for Prana Surfing. Otherwise, a short-story is in the oven and should be ready for consumption some time this week.

Life flows within, through, and around us, its energy infusing everything that exists, without exception, offering a myriad of opportunities and possibilities, to each his own, depending on what we ask for, what we focus on, what we choose to believe in, and what we allow ourselves to receive.

I'm sharing this because yesterday the teacher stopped by, and while waiting for the door to open, said, "Be careful what you believe. Lighten up. Choose to receive. And don't be so wearily serious -it really doesn't look good on you." Then after a moment of silence, he shouted, "Hey! What's taking you so long? It's really cold out here."

Be well and if you see it fit, allow life to flow freely both through and around you.

Meditating Within and Without

Prana Surfing...

is ready to be explored. But what is it exactly? Well, it is a concept I have been developing, in my own convoluted way, for the past two years. A fluid yoga dance with an infusion of Taoism, a blend of martial arts, breathing conditioning techniques, and a great deal of creative spontaneity. In a nutshell, Prana Surfing is what I have naturally been doing when practicing, and to a certain extent, teaching.

This said, I am rather excited to announce that I am in the process of procuring space in the downtown area, to begin teaching Prana surfing. The location is great, with lots of natural light, a wooden floor and some ideally positioned fixed props.

The classes will be very dynamic, fun, and aimed at honoring and nurturing both Yin and Yang aspects of one's totality. The focus will be on building three-dimensionally functional strength, improving upon balance, endurance, flexibility, and, last but definitely not least, fostering a greater, and why not, a more profound, sense of well-being.

For more information -some of it rather redundant, I admit, visit www.pranasurfing.blogspot.com.

Hope to see you there -and just to let you know, the classes will be affordable.

Be well, and if you can, strive to carry your dreams all the way to the finish line.

Yoga,

A new opportunity arose, and the prospects are actually exciting. I've decided to start teaching a few yoga classes at Kanopy Dance Studio, on State Street. At the moment, I am trying to come up with a schedule. It will be a couple of classes, very affordable, either in the morning, at 7:00 am, or at noon, Monday, Wednesday, and there is a possibility that a week-end class might be added. The classes are expected to start on the third week of March. Until then, I'd love some feed-back on the schedule, the location, and if you don't mind pass the word around.

Be well and enjoy the rest of your week.

Busy making flyers

Wonderful sunny...

moments are not to be missed. If you can, stop what you're doing and get out there, greet the sun, and, welcome the simplistically magnificent beauty that is inherent in all of creation. Life is truly miraculous, in its every detail, from the breeze that awakens your senses, to the scents and sounds that compete for the attention of your pleasure buds. Awaken, awaken. Seek to rejoin with the sunshine and the soft breath of today's wind, in a dance of renewal, in a silence of appreciation.

Be well and, if there is a need in you for joy, I think it nearer than we might suspect.

On the path of Harmony, I slip, fall, bruise myself, but never lose hope.

Somedays are...

harder than others, don't know why, just the way it happens, from the onset, before even setting the wrong foot on the ground, I'd say the feeling grips somewhere above the body's center of gravity, and it is tempting to say very close to the third Chakra -if you believe in Chakras, and so I could easily try analyzing this sensation of great unease, of being so totally out of center, with an inkling that so much of what is done, pursued, embraced, doesn't really fit the individuality that is floating within, as the body cringes at the taste that accompanies the sudden realization that whatever path one has been on is in fact, and obviously, so, so, incompatible with one's natural aspirations.

Then the body becomes a binding cage, from which one can see the light, but is unable to reach, and be one with it. Silly though that such as feeling should arise when the foolish master, for years on by, spent many hours patiently whispering to my skeptical ear, "The light you seek is already within, so brilliant and so close to the source of everything that is, was and will be."

The message is there, a seed taking its time to germinate. Perhaps, it needs watering and tending, believing and allowing... I don't know, but I sure am investigating.

Be well and stay on the path you feel is closest to your heart -only you can tell which on that might be, and if you stray don't be too hard on yourself, please don't, it's pointless, could be construed as a waste of time and energy. Do a little dance, laugh at your mistake, retrace your step, and rejoin the path of your journey.

Lost again and again.

P.S: On icy lake Mendota, I meandered long enough that my footprints drew a Yin and Yang symbol, a sinuous wave, a circular labyrinth, an infinity sign. That was yesterday. This morning, I stopped back and found all of it still there, and so I followed my own steps, seeking to meet myself, within, wishing for inner-unity, completion, forgiveness and awakening, in the name of Love and Harmony, the four elements, Air, Light, Earth and Fire, my guiding energies, melding within a center that is in Harmony with the Whole.

Be

yourself, no matter the price tag, and as the saying goes, "Only truth can set you free." Denial is a human condition that takes lifetimes to overcome. Buddhist selflessness is a slippery ideal. What are we but dreamers with choice-making affectations? Life is a grand show of illusions bent on eluding us into believing that it is moving towards the next moment. Perception is faulty and the mind is lacking in openness of vision. Who shall we trust then, when there is no solid point of reference to stand on? Some say that meditation is the way to meeting with that Higher self that sees everything at all times. "Ask and you shall receive," said that wise master in a time of inebriation. Apparently, Spirit is there, awaiting an honest, genuine, and heartfelt gesture from the lowest I. Take the step. Fear not falling. Then I, and I, shall finally meet, see eye to eye, and there might even be some learning imparted in the process. Wishful thinking? Maybe... All I can say is that someone is trying.

Be well and if you have time, get to know yourself.

Looking for the gap

Lost inside my monitor...

for hours, moving at the velocity of a tired snail, too aware that the sun is out there, that beyond these digital highways there is life to be met and enjoyed. But that is the price of being a professional this and that. Responsibilities abound.

As for escaping, forget about it, I'm not that naive anymore, unless the cause is really worth it, then I'll gladly throw common sense off board. My ship is yearning for the sight of distant shores, undiscovered beaches, the sound of hollowed drums, birds taking flight like a locust cloud, and spicier than anticipated foods...

The sun is out there and I am getting ready to leave, so be well and enjoy whatever playfulness you can get your teeth on.

less caffeine...

makes the world go slower, believe it or not. There is a certain peacefulness of the mind to be noticed and experienced. Otherwise, there is also, naps and too much sleeping, a sense of no-urgency-needed, and then one begins to wonder, and questions pop inside the mental furnace, and the thinking processes fire up, here and there, willy-nilly, and so there might also be a resurgence of a newly lost sense of urgency, and maybe a desire to stay up late at night to figure things out, meditate, which somehow, is very close to contemplate.

Cycles within cycles, lived from different perspectives, even when all of it is happening within the confines of one single individual, a morphing self that like a river is never the same as time does its undoing -and aren't we all this river?

Be well and seek all that you are here to find.

Lemons and lemonade...

But before I start, I'd like to confess that I am a bit shaken by today's tragedy -I never liked airplanes. So if you're feeling any sort pain for those who were involved and you can't do anything about what happened, make sure you turn off the news and take some time to nurture yourself.

This said, let us head back to the issue at hand... You've probably heard the saying about lemons and lemonade, you know, making the second out the handed first. I presume that we all have. It's in the books, in the tapes, in the cds, and just about anywhere else.

Well, my lemon was a migraine, for which, by the way, some bright doctor thought I should take a strong narcotic, but I'm digressing. At any rate, it was just one of those head colds/sinus infections kind of thing, except for the monster migraine savagely pounding inside my right temple...

Too weeks later, and only a few hours ago, I started thinking about lemons and lemonade, and it was right then that I realized I had somewhat done just that with my lemon -the migraine.

Now, and just to cut to the chase, I'll just tell you what kind of lemonade I was able to make. Drum roll and dramatic pause. I cut off my caffeine consumption. Yes. I turned off the spicket, gradually, and in a matter of days, stopped drinking coffee -meaning lots of sugar, dairy and caffeine, and since I already had a migraine, I didn't really notice the caffeine withdrawal headache.

Is this a good example? I'm not sure. It sure makes me happy... But, I'll let you decide.

Be well, and seek Light even in the heart of darkness -esoterically speaking, of course.

Stuck in the office...

A beautiful sky teasing me through the window, and a download that is taking too long to be over. How I wished I hadn't started the application, but the deed is done, and no matter how much wishing I put into the cause, the outcome is bound to remain the same.

Now, surprise, surprise, instead of resisting, I'm coming to terms with what needs to take place. This is a great lesson in patience, and there is nothing better than working in little strides. "Pace yourself," said that pain in the neck of a wise teacher. So, pacing myself in learning is exactly what I plan on doing.

As you can see, I have some time to kill.

Be well and treasure your time.

Yesterday's unexpected gift...

makes the world feel a lot more compact, with everything we might want at very close reach. It came in the form of a CD, of mostly enjoyable content. Consequentially, as of today, the ocean has materialized, right inside my car, at least in sound, so as it happens, I have become, incredibly enough, a slower driver than usual.

Naturally, I cannot go without extending truck-loads of gratitude towards the good friend who did the giving -it is after all the very least I can do. Truthfully, I am as always awed by the way events seem to crisscross and intersect in this gloriously conducted manifesting universe where we are but a tiny part of the whole.

Some say the whole is a hologram of sorts, and therefore, each part no matter how small and insignificant, contains within it a complete reproduction of everything else. Clearly, there is no valid scientific foundation to support this statement. Yet, I still like the idea as it settles inside my brain and tickles my intellect. After all, as a species we have been in the habit of, as the historical record can attest, believing in the strangest of things -wouldn't you agree?

Anyway, on a closer, or at least less esoteric, front, the political world is making the headlines, with Obama's bail-out/stimulus legislation package, among other globally stretched and intertwined issues. Otherwise, it's clouds and a bit of clear sky overhead, a bit sunny, 30s, in Madison, Wisconsin. And that is about it...

I have to get out of WholeFoods cafe, where I've been crashing for the last hour. There a bit of inspiration to tackle that mess of a story I have been wrestling with for the last couple of months. But before I get there, it is to the ocean's rhythm that I will be moving for the rest of the day.

Be well and enjoy whatever it is you wish to enjoy.

Rain and Drizzle...

Give me the Blues, and so I revert to music, and find a tune I can catch to be carried out of grayness into brighter and lighter spaces.



Enjoy the beat, and if you feel like it, stomp those restless feet.

Be well.

On a warm February day...

beneath the sun, I sat at a green table outside WholeFoods, ready to ponder my present condition, in relations to that special song, which from within some slippery center, has been and remains a guiding source of inspiration...

I watched hundreds of faces walk in and out of the store, each a unique rendition of a specific someone, and I wondered what makes this one more appealing to others than that one, what features strikes us as pleasing to the eye... A matter of taste, some might offer. But even that isn't a clear cut answer.

I heard it said that it's a matter of style, confidence and presence, as opposed to nervousness, uncertainty, low self-esteem, the scent of fear, of inadequacy. Maybe, it's a bit of this, a dash of that, and here you have it: a highly attractive persona.

Since I am not really searching for an answer, I'll just leave it to that, hoping that you too got to spend some time beneath the sun on this warm February day.

Be well, and if you forgot, remember to be comfortable around yourself.

P.S: Where have the good-friends gone? Why have their smiles dried along my side of the river? One day here, and the next gone. No farewells needed. Cut the line and simply move on, not realizing that for some of us, the connection lingers on. But, whom am I to blame, anyone else but the main protagonist of this story that is I? After all, we might just be as helplessly lost as Autumn's fallen leaves when caught in a mean September whirlwind.

Antibioticis...

work best when prescribed. Three visits to the HMO clinic later, thank you. Doctors would rather have me on some narcotic, so instead of a quick recovery, the malady made itself cozy inside of me. But persistence has been know to come with its perks, and so, here I am already on day 2 of treatment... and these are the news on the physical front.

Otherwise, as a pseudo-writer, I haven't been doing much writing, and so maybe, I should just go ahead and drop this self-anointed appellation...

From Madison, I can tell you that I am lost -it is free-fall time, and has been so for quite some time. Did I hear someone mention therapy? How about a chute instead?

Anyway, this is as much as I can share today, so be well and enjoy the sun if you can feel it where you are.