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Every Day Acts of Peace

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Monday, October 25, 2010

London 2006: I Am, The Thread That Is Common. I Am, The Thread That Is Uncommon.

There is a time travelling elephant 
showering a giant puppet girl,
as I walk to work today.

I photograph them, 
for no other reason than 
I like the water streaming through her hair.

She landed in a Space capsule 
on Lower Regent Street, sometime this week,
I noticed the Space capsule yesterday, 
but assumed that there were no occupants.

It starts to rain, 
the flowers bend, 
their purple petals fall 
mixing with the green grass.

A yellow tulip splits open, 
I can see inside, 
all its reproductive organs 
are exposed.

My feet are wet, 
I feel the dampness 
between my toes, 
my socks are heavy.

A black swan swims 
up to me, 
it opens its mouth 
wanting to be fed.

The only thing in my pocket 
is my hand, 
but I do not consider 
my fingers food.

The swan does without 
it swims away 
in search of breakfast 
from some other stranger.

I look over my shoulder, 
the giant time travelling elephant 
whispers something 
into puppet girl’s ear.

She is incapable of smiling, 
her mouth is 
a single painted black curve 
on a wooden face -
her mouth is 
wooden on a painted face.

The sun comes out, 
and a man walks by in his underwear,
he is carrying most of his clothes 
in a paper bag.
No one seems to notice, 
or at least they politely pretend not to, 
out of stiff upper lip courtesy.

I ask a man what time it is.
I wonder if I am late for where I am going to next.
I arrive, to the place I am destined to be.
It feels right then wrong, then right again,
and I wonder if I am early 
for where I am going to next.

I look at my new taken photographs 
of the elephant, puppet girl, 
flowers and birds.
They are alive inside 
the archive of my machinery.
I change the color of the sky, 
crop the borders of the scenery,
enlarge the girl’s head, 
and shrink the elephant’s memory.

I close my eyes 
and think Romanian thoughts, 
dream Moroccan dreams,
and breath deep the air 
of a few too many flights away 
from a few too many sights.

I open my eyes and look down, 
from the height of judgment it is a steep fall.

When I hit the ground will I land on my feet,
or will I need to roll to protect myself
by tucking myself into a spherical 
steam punked streamlined ball?

If the energy directed at me 
cannot pass through me,
then at least it can pass over me.

I am a walking meditation 
for the energy to clear from me.

I go outside again in search of food.
I buy a carrot juice,
a sweet dangling illusion 

that might quench my thirst.
I dangle the dream of my life 
in front of my face.
I detangle the web of my past 

by weaving forward into the present.

I walk by the newspaper headlines 
screaming warnings of another bomb attack to come.
I remember how the train station blast smelled,
filled my neighbourhood with smoke and debris.
You could hear the cries for blocks,
moving ghosts sweeping grief 
quickly from one neighbourhood, 
to the next, to another, to no end in sight -
to no end of insight.

Where is Sherlock Homes when you need him?

Nothing is what it seems after all these years.
You might think that it would all make sense.
Life does not make sense,
there is nothing common about sense,
or sensory perception of experienced events -
but there is a common thread in each story being told.


I am the thread that is common, 

for my life is my story.
I listen carefully for the story 

threads that are uncommon.

I witness my Self create 

my participation in my events,
as creator of my universal truth,
I do not need protection from life -

I need more consciousness 
of my intentions and desires.

So I bring my awareness to my insights.


My insights I bring within, 

to disrupt my discomfort.

The unease within me 

is the common energy 
of each experience.
The ease within me 
is my uncommon presence 
creating more events.

Creating more Self-insight 

within me, 
is manifesting the dream 
of my truth alive.

Dreaming alive my Soul's presence 
into my heart 
is me envisioning 
my core's life creations.

I am existing, 
alive, simple, 
simply alive 
in existence.
I am, the thread that is uncommon.
I am, the thread that is common.

~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~
Sometime after 1908 Abraham Harold Maslow wrote;
“You will either step forward into growth
or you will step back into safety.”