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