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Every Day Acts of Peace

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Monday, October 4, 2010

Yucatan 1986: Rain Tastes Like Melted Chocolate

Slowly –
I remember who we truly are, 
and that discovery requires intention and the desire ...
to fuel our minds, bodies and spirits ...
to align within our community of humanity.

My life expands after weeks of conversation ...
swimming with brilliant fish ...
climbing wet jungle staircases ...
and accidental drives 
into war zones in Central America.

The soldiers of various armies, 
funded by various governmental powers, 
secure the borders that keep me from moving further ... 
I am warned to be careful of men with guns,
by an Elder who lives in the Mayan jungles.

Surrounded by her sounds, 
and company of chickens, trees, flowers and plants -
she shelters me 
with her warm sweet-toothed smile ...
while I contribute,
to the this rain forest tribe, 
by baking dessert.

Over time, 
I fill the rain forest 
with the healing smell of fresh cocoa cake rising ...
and I am taught to cure all 
by brewing teas, 
from the bark of this community, 
of tender trees, helpful herbs and friendly flowers.

In my mind’s eye 
the image of the unknown 
now holds enough faith
to create the trust 
needed to stabilize 
and focus my power of purpose.

I am my intention 
to sense my choices
and connection to my journey.
I am my desire to comprehend 
gravity, truth, time, space
uniqueness and oneness.

I ground maize into a paste 
that binds and nourishes all matter.

I knead more dough, 
for flat corn bread and small tortillas.

I smell the heat of the fire 
transforming the coals ready for cooking.

The sound of the soldiers maneuvering 
through the forest ripples my nerves
and disturbs the surface 
of the well-drawn water 
still asleep in its bucket.

Reaching into my canvas bag 
I pull out and unroll a piece of cotton cloth,
within it I have separated and stored, 
a vast army of chilies and spices.
Gathered from the women I have met in my travels, 
these ingredients are my equivalent 
to an alchemist’s store of botanical elixirs.

I dip my finger 
into the wooden bowls laid out 
in front and to the side of me.
My touch drips from the organics.
I taste all aspects of my humanity and my creations ...
the elements that make up the wholeness of my story –
the vast ingredients of my experiences 
that fill color into my blanks,
in order to expand 
the worldview of my smaller picture.

It starts to rain, 
so clean and fresh 
that my cellular ecology 
morphs into passion -
my humility spontaneously creates 
an alchemical chain reaction
of humid-drops that merge 
with the wet-steam of my baking 
until the surrounding rain 
tastes like melted chocolate. 

 ~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~ 
In 1935 Octavio Paz wrote;
 “… from dream to vigil,
from desire to act
you needed only a step and that taken without effort
the insects then were jewels who were alive
the heat lay down to rest at the edge of the pool
rain was the light hair of a willow-tree
there was a tree growing within your hand
and as it grew it sang laughed prophesied
it cast the spells that cover space with wings
there were the simple miracles called birds
 everything belonged to everyone