Los Angeles 2012: The Year of Imagination and Creativity, The End Renews Our Imagination To Create New Beginnings

Finally it is the end of the world as we know it.
I hear the voices of my ancestors
praying for peace, singing about love,
and I know that today, and every day, I grow.

I imagine I create.

I hear the sounds of the new year song beginning ...
Our ancestor's sing ...
Finally it is the end,
the walls are coming down.
The walls are down,
it is the end of your life as you knew it ...
So, imagine dreams that create new beginnings.

I start imagining peace.
I begin imagining love.
I imagine the end is the start of deeper understanding.
I imagine hate is not the way.
I imagine revenge is never sweet.

When my mind is full of nightmares
I start imagining day dreams.
If my mind is full of nightmares I end them
by imagining my joyful dreams are filling my days.
I imagine the end of something old in my life,
by imagining the beginning of something new birthing more life.

I imagine I create ...

I hear the voices of my ancestors
praying for peace, singing about love,
and I know that today, and every day, I grow.
I imagine I create the beginning of the end.
Love is all around, love is all around.
Peace is in many hearts.
Peace is in my heart.
Finally it is the end and the start
of the infinite loop cycling
new endings, and new beginnings.

Our ancestors whisper ...
Imagine you create.
There is no ending.
There is no beginning.
There is simply experiences of life.

My ancestor's whisper ...
Finally it is the end the walls are down.
Finally it is the beginning the walls are down.
The Ancestors' whisper,
now, right now ...
Imagine you create what you imagine.
Imagine that imagining creates love of peace.

I imagine ...
Finally it is the beginning all around the world,
Peace is spinning joy, everyone is touched,
Everyone is imagining they create,
Everyone is creating their imaginations.

If my mind is full of nightmares,
I start imagining day dreams.
If my mind is full of hate
I start imagining peace.
If my heart is full of hate
I begin imagining love.
And then finally it is the end of the world as I knew it ...
And love is sounding it's call.

Peace is sounding it's call
for me to be with others who love peace,
to be with open hearts,
to be with heads held high,
to be with still fists unclenched,
to be with hands raised with open palms.
Finally it is the end of nightmares
and the start of imagination creating new day dreams.

I listen for the voices praying for peace, singing about love,
mediating today, and every day, for expanded consciousness.

I imagine I create.

During the reign of love of peace,
Hate has no power to lead people,
Hate has no power to influence individuals,
During the reign of love of peace
the power of love rules peace,
and the power of peace governs love.
Conscious presence acts within hearts and minds.

The strong voices of our ancestors share their experiences.
Hate depletes the Soul's life force from the body.

I cross my heart and will my hope to live.

The eternal songs sung by our ancestors sound ... loudly ...
If your mind is full of judgement then imagination revitalizes peace.
If your heart is full of hate imagination resuscitates peace.
If your body is full of pain transform discomfort by imagining peace.
If your spirit feels depleted imagine Self wholeness through love of peace.
Inner peace plays the music for each step of your outer dance with peace.

Finally it is the end of my hate.
Peace fills my heart.
Love energizes my mind.
Now is the end and beginning,
Peace has spread inside me and around the world,
Everyone is touched.
It is the start of my silent day dreams being imagined,
and my loud nightmares being transmuted.
I create my new beginnings to transform the end of my old ways.

I hear the voices of other individuals
praying for peace, singing about love -
I know that today, and every day, each one of us grows.
I imagine I create.
I begin each night altering my consciousness.
I end each night gaining consciousness.
I end each day altering my consciousness.
I begin each day gaining consciousness.
I imagine I alter to revive alive creativity's gains.

I hear our ancestors whisper ...
Eternal love begins the end,
so that new starts can peacefully begot.
I begin where I end, and I end where I begin.
Your life is alive with each creative breath.
And so all, That is, ends.
So all That is, begins.
Creativity imagines abundant peace without end.

I imagine I grow to imagine that I create peacefully.
I imagine we grow to imagine that we all create peacefully.
Finally it is the end, songs are being sung to celebrate the start.
Hands are being held, to support the beginning, middle, and end of journeys.
The world of peace that always was, is deeply present, seen and felt.
The time for creating enemies from friends ends,
so we can hear the voices of our friends presence.

The world of revenge which was never sweet ends,
so that now begins our tasting the truth
of hate's bitterness and peace's bliss.

I hear the voices of my ancestors
praying for peace, singing about love -
I know that today, and every day, I grow.
I imagine my Self creating a year with new beginnings ended.
The calendar year end cycles the world as I know it,
so I renew my imagination to create new beginnings.

~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~
With heart felt respects to:
The Great Peacemaker,
Gayanashagowa The Great Law of Peace and Hiawatha.
and
The Midewiwin,
Three Fires Nations:
The Potawatomi, Fire People Nation -
Keepers of the Sacred Fire.
The Ottawa, The Trader People Nation.
The Ojibwe, The Faith Keepers Nation -
Keepers of the Sacred Scrolls and the Waterdrum.
and
Mohican Chief Aupumut

Sometime after 1768 Shawnee Chief Tecumseh said;
"So live your life
that the fear of death
can never enter your heart.

Trouble no one about their religion;
respect others in their view,
and demand that they respect yours.

Love your life,
perfect your life,
beautify all things in your life.
Seek to make your life long
and its purpose in the service of your people.

Prepare a noble death song
for the day when you go over the great divide.

Always give a word or a sign of salute
when meeting or passing a friend,
even a stranger, when in a lonely place.

Show respect to all people
and grovel to none.
When you arise in the morning
give thanks for the food
and for the joy of living.
If you see no reason for giving thanks,
the fault lies only in yourself.

Abuse no one and no thing,
for abuse turns the wise ones to fools
and robs the spirit of its vision.

When it comes your time to die,
be not like those
whose hearts are filled with the fear of death,
so that when their time comes they weep
and pray for a little more time
to live their lives over again in a different way.
Sing your death song
and die like a hero going home."

Image Credit: Cree, French and English stop sign Canada

Beijing 1990: Transforming Love of Self, Transforms Love of Life

Naked thoughts,
prance about in raincoats.
Real underneath,

feeling the silky lining,
of my waterproof topcoat.

Naked thoughts,
dance in the dark.
underneath creases.

These overshadowed thoughts

hope to catch my attention,
so they can be elevated,

to my surface,
to dance lighter 

as they become.

Passion can sputter,
frustrated,
only to magically,
transform,

into a gift

of self-awareness -
a guide of heart,
an order of discovery,
a revealing of humanity,
as, the truly is.

Home,
the unregulated temperature
of my portable electric-coil burner.

My roommate’s polenta burns,
as she describes the beauty
of her native Venice Italy.
Venice is
Italian colour
made transparent
during Winter fog.

Quite out of breath
my Teacher bursts
into our room,

she ran the length
of the campus courtyard,
that, which, divides 

Teacher and Students,
and is also the one compound 

that unites us.

My Teacher begs me
to come with her
back to her room.

I hear a stagger of words
caught between her gasps.
A jumble tumbling from her mouth.
“She has an unexpected visitor -

a guest from her Hometown Village,
an old childhood friend named An.”

I pick up my shoes ...
no time to put them on properly.
Teacher grab-pulls my sweater,
my knitted arm stretches me
forward out the door.
Teacher explains on route
that An is acting strange ...
appearing on her threshold
torn and dirty.

Together as children they were best friends,
in a northern China coal-mining town.

Teacher passed the college entrance examinations.

An failed the vital exams,
so she was assigned work in the local coal mine.

I am not sure
of the significance of her story,

until Teacher and I arrive on the scene.

In the corner An sits dusty grey and black,

coal mine smeared on her face, hair and clothes,

everything about her appears wrinkled nothing.

No time to assume that her appearance 

was a result from a few days’ rough travel, 

and lack of personal hygiene and sleep.

Teacher’s face is scared straight.
Frightened by An’s despondent behaviour.

I pour warm water into a basin.
I clean off this long distance traveler.

I find out why An suddenly appeared .
Why now, in Beijing, unraveled,

looking at loose ends.

I wash An's hands.
I see she is presently not here.

It is obvious that An’s mind is not fully conscious.
She is somewhere else, somewhere far away.

With warm water and gentleness
I coax An to tell her story.

Passion pours forth her words.
The flow of her several day journey,
bus ride, walk, hitchhiking,
eating when she could,

sleeping where she felt safe.

An declared she came to find Mother.

I made soup for An while she unwound.

An told us that on her village's television,
her long lost mother was interviewed, 

in Beijing after winning a national science award.

An was thrown into a fit of obsession,
compelled to travel,

under influence of compulsion,
fueled into motion,
by a potential Mother-Daughter reunion.

An arrived here, today.
She made her way arriving, 

directly, at her Mother’s science academy.

An's cries and pleas at the security fence,
created a rough and rude rejection at the gate.

The Security Guard insisted,
the award winning scientist was not married,
did not have children,
and no displays of passion by An,
would unlock within him any degree of compassion.
Nothing could tempt him to open the gates of Beijing.

At the barred gate,
An left her heart broken.
She took away belittlement and alienation.

An is still shaking with fury.
Tonight she is in full blame and anger.
All her pain and suffering is directed at,

and is the fault of the Security Guard.

"... wrong assumptions must be punished ...
... he must be toppled from his job position ...
... he ruined her prolonged anticipation ...
... who has the right, no one has the right ...

to come between a Mother and Daughter reuniting!"

I comb An’s hair and wash her face.

I understand by now, that An does not have a famous Mother.

My Teacher has been busy cooking.

We urge, a hot bowl into An's cold hands.
Teacher and I make eye contact, and we hope.
We share our hope that our combined attention, 

will bring presence back in, to, An.
Restore An, rejuvenate her physical,

and emotionally draining journey.

An’s passion returns does slowly.
Her restored passion becomes increased vitality.
A kind of hope that does not hope,

a vitality vital to presence and being present.
We continue to stoke An's internal fire,

hoping to rekindle her ambition for life.

We are not attached to her journey to find her mother.

I look into An’s eyes as I comb her hair ...

I see glimpses of the girl she used to be.

An begins to doze,
Teacher describes to me,

An's on-the-job reality.
An breathed a daily dose at work,
a truth never dreamed of possible for her Self.

Confusing physical reality for spiritual truth,
An's emotional certainty 

diffused then darkened -
her passions exhausted,
became all but suffocated, 

extinguished, until her clarity 

regarding her life's aspirations 

become uncertain.

The coal mine's darkness,
which An inhaled daily,
was a narrow passageway,

a dark mineshaft that dimmed,

and restricted An's imagination.

The daily routine hollowed out her haloed spirit.

An sunk deeper into a pit of despair.
An's being, became, one of a Being overshadowed -

a life murky, full of negative thoughts and apparitions.

Inhaled long and deep enough,

a type of darkness descends,
the chest fills with a soot and grime,

that overtime can persuade 

a person to dig their own grave.

An woke slightly.

Teacher, An and I talked for hours,
about whatever An wanted to talk about.
When An finally became tired of our attention,

she went to bed, she laid down to rest.

Teacher phoned their Hometown Village.

We were told another version of An' story.

Reality strikes ... or so the story goes ...
An walked out of the coal mine,
walked out of town,
walked out on her life.

Apparently, this was not the first time.

An’s imagination had carried her off before.

Self-illusion took her on a never-ending, 

often wandering journey,
into the unexplored un-mined,
shadow recesses of her own mind.

An’s family were impressed 

that this time An had made it 

all the way to Beijing.

An's Hometown Village birth Mother promised,
she would take the first bus here, to take An home.

The next morning, I was woken by Teacher 

in despair, insistently knocking at my door.

At Dawn, An had snuck out,
now was out of sight, 

a gone girl, gone wrong.

An left on a walk to somewhere.
Teacher and I quickly searched the campus.
Although we did not want to admit it,
in our hearts both of us knew 

where we might find An.

We found An.

Her body crumpled and pressed against 

the fence of the Beijing TV station.

Her cries produced salt-water tears,

which mixed with the rust on the gate bars.

Vertical stripes were etched, 

and lined the length of An's face.

Strings of streaming acidic tears 

pressed and burned her flesh.

A divide was created 

between emotional and physical worlds -
what the locked gate kept in, 

the released tears let out.

An appeared tattooed, 

by the patterns of imprisonment ...
so many years, too many tears, 

a Soul barred restricted from crying.

Now, 

water poured out of her body,
streamed from her unexplored oceans within,

An's soul soaked our world wet.
Cellular salt eroding the battery,

constant barrage of secured bars and locked gates.

Overnight,

An had darkened into herself.
She kept insisting to us;

she lived in Beijing,
she had never worked in a coal mine,

her famous Mother would come for her,
claim her, embrace her, be proud of her, 

raise her, raise her up, and rescue her.

A flame on a candle can run out of wick and wax,
Not enough light, An’s passion grew and sputtered out.

An became still. Quiet.

Contracted into the light of her darkest spaces.

Her inner chambers, of her templed Being,

hid her wisdom, archived away her preciousness.

She now lived the result of channelling

most of her passion into her fantasies.

A choice-reality, 

from which she could not escape,
but she could act out her presence 

to hopefully, manifest her fantasy into presence.

An's all, 

her energy and intelligence,

seemed to recede to a time,

when her body generated its blackest hole.

An's black hold 

emanated from a deeper place 

than the shadows 

she experienced in the coal mine.

She passed her young days, 

grinding metal against rock,
ax-picking the immovable, 

trying to free herself,

manifest inner movement.

Often, 

I think of people I know.
individuals who appear 

to be spending their lives,
doing things they do not want to do.

I know I am lucky.
I know I am directing myself 

with precision awareness and courage.
I am leading my life by choice and self-assertion -
developing my insight and inner certainty.
I create and generate my mindful energy.

I believe in human potential 

to create more by channeling 

imagination, passion and potential.
Creating presence to create my present.

At any given moment of time,
I re-live my truth, I re-create my values, 

I live forever by respecting myself infinitely.

I witnessed An’s passion ignite and explode

upwards into her own personal fireworks,
a display of An's expression, of her form.
In brilliant outbursts her light appeared,

lasting, moments then contracting 

sinking, silently, downward.

In the her fall from establishment,

society's heights, rules and regulations,
An seemed to lose her colour, her uniqueness.

I learned from An how to value my stature,
enjoy the moments in life when my passion is ignited,
respect the times my creativity reached heights of wonder.

I now watch my Self even more carefully.
I turn my awareness inward into myself, 

to see how I possess, process, 

prolong my own passion's journey.

An taught me to love my Self every moment -
and to witness if I am separating 

my self-respect from my self-worth.

An taught me that when we divorce love from self,
a breaking point is created from lack of self-nourishment.

I believe none of us are broken -
not one, single one of us, 

is deficient or in need of fixing.

When passion’s hold 

crazes personality into zeal,

and when ardor seeks 

a creative outlet 

to detonate it's disperse -
the experience is release, 

renewal, transformation, 

revitalization and reconsideration.

Transformation 

can feel like nothing 

we have ever felt before.
Human senses naturally sense alteration,

and will refocus to support change.
The human body is designed 

to always want the best for us -
when we lead inward, 

we lead in, 

and our body follows on, 

on to our path 

of our natural journey.
We become infinitely more

of what we set our sights on, 

and we become more of 

what we want to become.

Ages ago, 

An would have been publicly avoided,

burned at the stake as a witch,
or sent to an asylum 

for being psycho-logically inane.

An found within her void, 

her internal eternal,
Self that always exists - 

that Self,
which still breathes in the dark,
and is always lit by truth.

Self that eats light and shines 

especially bright in the dark.

The form of An's actions,
made no sense to anyone,
but the making and unmaking
her own personal truths set An free.

The last I heard of An, 

she knew her self again.
She created a way to unmake 

and remake peace with her self.
She understood her light side, 

by acting out her dark side,

she knows she is her light, 

her dark and her every colour in-between.

She renovated, renewed 

and restructured her reality -

by restoring her self to herself,
through updating 

and expanding her self-image,

An created ways and means 

for her presence to become more persistent.

Her persistence of vision manifested her version of reality.

Her search for herself began,
the moment she felt her life,
being compromised.

She knew wanted more personal power,
so, she chose to create opportunity.
She choose to live her life, 

by giving her self more choices.

She was burned 

by how brightly 

her mind wanted illumination,

but her hope kept her 

from taking action ...

until one day she knew action 

was louder than fears,

and tears she led her 

to rediscover herself,

to self-discover a truer self-identity.
 

An’s actions to act out her fantasy,

created waves of vitality,
for her submerged brilliance,
to drive her consciousness to her surface.
She surfaced her darkest unexplored parts of her Self.

All that she had yet to see in her self,
all that she had yet to encounter of herself,
all that is and ever was in her life,

all that is and forever was her brilliance -
she had yet to expose to her self.

In her balancing of all her colours,

to recharge her inner light alive,
and illuminate her living life cycles,
An re-existed, regenerated her heart,

to resurrect her life in full living spectrum.

We all ride the cycles of life's darkness,
and circle the hilights of our individual ecosystem.

An discovered her unseen fears and confusion 

are actually her Being, becoming overwhelmed.

Busied beyond her senses, 

the nonsensical became what she live,

and by living these untruths life became unsensible.

Life is sensational,
and benefits from being sensed to the fullest.

Self in the midst of becoming more,
uses sense to fully expand into more.
Transformation is change of self.
Expanding truth of life embraces truth of love.
Transforming love of life transforms love of self.
Transforming love of self transforms love of life.


~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~~
Twenty-five hundred years ago,
The Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu
contained wise words for future generations:

"Everybody on Earth knowing
that beauty is beautiful
makes ugliness.

Everybody knowing
that goodness is good
makes wickedness.

For being and nonbeing
arise together;
hard and easy
complete each other;
long and short
shape each other;
high and low
depend on each other;
note and voice
make the music together;
before and after
follow each other.

That's why the wise soul
does without doing,
teaches without talking.

The things of this world
exist, they are;
you can't refuse them.

To bear and not to own;
to act and not lay claim;
to do the work and let it go:
for just letting it go
is what makes it stay.

Above, from the 1997 "Lao Tzu: Tao Te Ching"
English version by Ursula K. Le Guin
Below, her chapter notes:
"One of the things I read in this chapter
is that values and beliefs
are not only culturally constructed
but also part of the interplay of yin and yang,
the great reversals that maintain the living balance of the world.
To believe that our beliefs are permanent truths
which encompass reality is sad arrogance.
To let go of that belief is to find safety.

Sometime after 1821, Henri Federic Amiel said;
“Hope is only the love of life.”

Andre Gide said;
“Our judgments about things vary
according to
the time left us to live
that we think is left us to live...”

Sometime after 1912, Sir John Marks Templeton said;
“If governments encourage people
to become more spiritual
there will be a reduction in healthcare.”

"Spring Dust Storms Obscure The Obvious"

Beijing, China 1990

by Karin Lisa Atkinson

Los Angeles 2010: Soften My Position

I soften my position so I can understand more.

Cycles of charm, seasons of bliss.

I watch people relate without getting close,

dance around each other,

brush each other with the sharp edge of their words –

a type of dampness that builds up and eventually settles in the bones.

What has a man profited, 
if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

I soften my position so I can understand more.

Seasons of cyclical charm, holiday cheer followed by new year cordials.

I listen to people relate by sharing their nerves,

anxiously attack with verbosity each other’s sense of personal space –

a type of neurosis, which heightens to snap brain stems loose from cords of spine.

How has a human profited, 
if inner wealth remains untreasured, unearthed and unrestored?

I soften my position so I can understand more.

Cycles of bliss, cheery seasons of charm.

I smell the peopled habitual norms,

demonstrations of affection towards travelling companions of life’s journey –

a type of belief in individuality that quickens into love and hastens in the mind.

When has humanity profited, 
if in realizing dreams, becomes too busy to be kind?

I soften my position so I can understand more.

Seasonal cheer, charming cycles of hibernating snuggly within caves of time.

I taste the race of people trampling the earth to find their selves,

compliments of kindred spirits traversing the globe in spiraling numbers –

a type of travel that frenzies to intentionally lose baggage, in order to lighten the load.

Why has humanity profited, 
if the winning of liberty declares a war on peace of mind?

I soften my position so I can understand more.

Redefining cheer, charm, bliss and seasonal cycles of growth.

I touch the people within my heart,

civilizations of like-minded souls individualized into single-minded focus –

no type casting, no profiling of emotional bodies into shapeless pointless views.

Where has humanity profited, 
if in all hearts everywhere lie dormant dreams of more.

~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~

Sometime after 1821 Henri Frédéric Amiel wrote;

“The man who has no inner life is a slave to his surroundings,

as the barometer is the obedient servant of the air at rest,

and the weathercock the humble servant of the air in motion.”

"Water Lilies at Peace" 
Paleaku Gardens Peace Sanctuary

by Karin Lisa Atkinson

Los Angeles 2010: Certain of Our Collective Sublime

Life
is a moment to celebrate.

Day is a dance in illumination. 

Night a festival of the unknown.

People party at all levels, 

yet all are equal –

with none above you, 

nor below you, 

Creation is as simple as that.

I hear the song 
of eternal ages, 

while I listen 
decades come and go.

I see all touched equally 

by time’s sense of balance,

as I watch, 

centuries blur 

into a single breath of now.

One inhale is equal 

to all that has ever been re-created.

One exhale is equal 

to all that has ever been re-defined.

One cycle of ever-spiraling formations, 

Singularity that equals the whole.

I smell the riches of the ages,

wealth buried 

right in front and under my nose.

I taste the passion 

of love’s compassionate embrace, 

abundant ever-lasting meals

of giving and receiving,

Life is as simple as that.

Life, precious as it is, 

is the reason we are all here.

A single experience 

of our own personal whole, 

nothing more, nothing less –

the uniting your own personal 

purposefulness, 

value and vision,

then expressing it 

in the temple of your form.

I sing my praises and yours too.

I compose a song 

that decomposes all lies –

to reveal truth of the infinite, 

not yet experienced, 

yet ready to be explored.

I have found my Voice, 

unveiled it to ring strong and true.

I touch the cords of my, 

and your own, 

personal universality,

to harmonize with the many, 

and the few.

I am what I am 

because of who we all are.

I am what I am, 

a Being, being human, 

simply being true 

to my nature –

touching my heart strings, 

plucking the infinity 

of our collective divine.

I ever grow to reach 

and touch my awareness 

into this moment today.

I seek nothing 

and I welcome embrace 

of innate wisdom,

so I can hold certain of my, 

and our collective sublime.

~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~

Sometime after 1869 Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi wrote;

“Truth resides in every human heart,

and one has to search for it there

and to be guided by truth as one sees it.

But no one has a right to coerce others

to act according to his own view of truth."

    Image Credit: Karin Lisa Atkinson

Los Angeles 11:11:11 : The Significance of Numbers, Forming The Creative World Spirit, Mind and Body.

Walking to my neighborhood farmer's market
on 11:11:11
I met a women who complimented me
on the Peruvian sweater I was wearing.
I complimented the Peruvian sweater artisans who made it.

This sidewalk friend was excited
to be on her way to a hotel near the airport -
which was hosting a group of visiting Mayan Elders.
An organized gathering to honour their Mayan wisdom.
The Mayan Elders were invited to Los Angeles
for a 11:11:11 planetary group hug
and celestial celebration.

I told my sidewalk friend
that she could go downtown,
to the local Indigenous cultural centre,
anytime she wanted to meet, greet,
and talk with individuals of Mayan origins.

She replied,
"But this event is special. These Mayans are special leaders."

I thought to myself,
"Yes, each one of us is a leader of our own life.
Each one of us is here to lead a life ...
Each and every event, everyday, everyone is special."

I recall a special day
on 6:11:11 ...
I watched a lovingly-crafted documentary
created by Pedro Daniel Lopez
and Dolores Santiz Gomez of Tzotzil Mayan lineage.
I loved watching "The Little Seed In The Asphalt" 
"La Pequena Semilla en el Asfalto"

The filmmakers shared with us
that this was the first film ever written, directed
and produced by people of Mayan ancestral nobility.

I complimented the artists who created the film.

I complimented the individuals involved.
I thanked those Mayans,
who were arrested and jailed,
for speaking their peace,
safeguarding the land,
and permitted their presence
to illuminate this moving picture.

A Mayan painter
interviewed in the film
related his story ...
... One day when he was painting pictures
of temples in the Yucatan,
a visiting university scholar
approached him not asking,
but declaring -
"Mayans no longer exist!
No one knows where they went!
It is amazing that all Mayans disappeared!
All together, en masse, at once, going who knows where!"

The painter was deeply wounded
by the tragic opinion
that "Mayans do not exist."
Where is the mystery? ...
It is historically hysterically well documented
that by order of the Kings of Europe,
they were burned at the stake.

Mayans filled the jails
of the colonizers and conquistadors ...

Even today they are imprisoned,
by natural resource extractors,
for protesting the grabbing of their lands,
by water, tree, oil and gas frackers.

The foreign contact which Mayans have known,
are international exploiters and saviours,
who continue to pass judgement on Mayans.
Mayans are painted as saints, savages, or sinners -
by those pretending to be world class leaders
role playing and self-portraying themselves as cause heroes.

In the film interview,
the painter explained he was tired.
He was tired of being told he is irrelevant -
that he and his culture do not exist.
He felt erased,
disrespected, disregarded
and historically deleted.
However, he did not feel defeated.

How can a culture
that is thousands of years old
be reconsidered to be considered
obsolete, obscure or invisible?

As an artist,
he found it hard
to contribute to a world society,
which insisted on
not taking his culture seriously ...
not understanding
Mayan culture is a vital life force,
one breathe of life -
one breathe in the composition
of the whole world society.

In the film, he asks,
"Why do people not talk directly to Mayans,
instead of reading books about Mayans
written by non-Mayans?"

He thinks it is foolish
and irresponsible in this day and age,
for people to read about culture,
instead of first hand experiencing it ...

When we share one world,
and live in one world,
with ever increasing easy access
to personal direct experience ...
it is simpler to experience first hand,
all that life has to offer ...
and embrace all the wisdom
and beauty,
our world's cultures have to offer.

In the film,
I witnessed the voices of individuals who exist ...
They all as one, and one for all, declared;
"I exist. I am here. I count!
I count my Self as human!
I consider my Self as one,
in the one world of one humanity!
I affirm my Self identity.
I respect my Self!"

Los Angeles is populated
with many first nations individuals,
who possess Native American
and Mayan cultural heritage.
My friends
from Mayan villages all over this World,
travel to Los Angeles to experience more ...
more than their village's current life force ...
more of what the urban experience might offer ...
a variety of diverse life styles that city living affords.

My Mayan friends
believe that travel creates opportunity
for personal expansion.
Conscious choice
to augment one's own unique individuality,
to cultivate one's own precious personal life journey,
conscious choice is a way of choosing
to reinvent the walk,
walk in shoes forged by time,
and re-experience life events
which our ancestors' previous incarnated.

My friends enjoy
expanding their insight
of their personal wisdom -
by creating contrast,
through exposure,
to other global cultures.
Their own Mayan outer world view
has permission to expand,
contract and balance -
to honour each individual
unique inner world domain.

Within, each one of us,
are individual world perspectives.

I am grateful to have friends of Mayan ancestry.
In Europe, when I met Mayans,
some were experiencing being culturally ignored.
They were sometimes treated as if they did not count,
and sometimes told by some people that
"Mayans no longer exist, never existed.
Mayans were a fantasy culture ...
an obstacle that had to be overcome
to conquer the New World."

Many current teaching tools,
education cirriculum and history books,
were thought up, written and published by
Old World political and religious leaders -
and their fantasy was created and propagandized,
sold and enforced
by their hired colonizing army of soldiers.

School textbooks that teach non-equality
do not serve our planet's peace of mind.

In Europe, Mayans I met
were treated as unwelcome foreigners -
illegal immigrants seeking work
without menial permission.

Humans seeking rights
to earn the right to food and shelter,
and humans seeking human rights
from their own governing bodies,
are obviously humans
expecting human existence to be equal
and full with liberating free will - choice.

I like to keep life simple
and human interaction easy.
If a person feels respect for our planet,
and our world,
then they show respect
for our cultures of our world.

If a person feels respect for humans,
then they show respect for the humanity.

If a person feels respect for Mayans,
then they show respect for the Mayan culture.

Respecting each individual you meet -
by being kind to them,
by looking in their eyes,
showing interest, seeing, hearing,
asking them to share their stories -
is a form of relating to each other
and relating with each other's cultural history.
Warring confrontational attitudes
are activated and acted out
by individuals who have no interest
in communication to create
mutual understanding.

I met individuals of Mayan heritage in Asia -
where they studied free of charge in China,
with full tuition, housing, food,
and respect for their r.evolutionary place in history.

In England, I met individuals of Mayan origins -
in the United Kingdom they experienced
hard times getting any kind of work -
except cleaning up other people's messes.
They were offered "take it or leave it" job prospects.
They were permitted to serve, clean offices, sweep streets,
and earn substandard minium wages.
My Mayan friends were told they were not welcome.
Not welcome as foreign workers,
imported help or tourists -
if they over stayed the state's approved time allocation.
If you want to revere the Mayan culture,
then on a daily basis honour each individual you meet,
with kindness, consideration and respect.

One of my Mayan friends told me the story,
that one day, as a social experiment,
he chose to stand in front of a bookshop window.
The store front window was displaying books
written by non-Mayans speculating about Mayan culture.
He offered himself to the people leaving the bookshop.
He offered a free discussion, a discourse on Mayan culture.

He said;
"I could see the fear in people's eyes,
as if this unexpected encounter with a Mayan warrior,
brought up some unknown secreted guilt and remorse.
These individuals moved away from me
as fast as they could.
They wanted to create
enough space and time between us,
to erase the past,
get back to the safety
and security of their own homes.
They preferred the childlike fantasies
they were taught in their childhood about our world"

My Mayan friend thought,
"living" room was a funny description,
for a place where people shut themselves up -
attempt to close out the rest of the world.
They preferred to be "armchair experts" on Mayan culture -
living inside their carefully constructed imaginations -
living life according to the books
and human attachment to book learning.
Living yes, but lives lived in closeted rooms
void of life forces.

All actions and deeds that Mayans do,
are a blessing to creation and creating -
intentional acts to manifest
infinite potential and possibility.

It must be difficult for Mayans
to understand and encounter,
people who are afraid of human contact.
To many Mayans it would be like
choosing to live life without breathing.

Some Mayan friends wonder
what worldly conditions exist
in which individuals might choose
not to inhale ...
might desire
to live drained of life -
working tirelessly,
to empty their lives
through daily draining actions.
Yet craving replenishment,
the vitality of full lives lived,
but believing that achievement requires
a majestic dream for more
by achieving monetary immortally.

Over the last few weeks
my Mayan friends and I have met often.
Each day I meet more
individuals of Mayan heritage
in the city of angeles (Los Angeles).
We often choose to talk about more -
creating more and projecting more
good-hearted ideas and visions,
which hold positive intention and desire
for more imagination
which see life expanding
into more peaceful existence.

We each talk about living essence.
That, of no time, no linear existence.
The Mayan belief in the non-linear
simultaneous event-full experience.
We each feel the infinite
circle of intentional choice,
never ending acts of manifest
well-placed consciousness -
and awareness of that in each one of us,
that uniqueness which creates
unique experiences and existence.

We each sense,
there is no need to make sense,
of what exists.
We feel
the many intersection of life
points in Spacial coloration ...
Many points of gathering
acoustic events ... the sounding in space
of our individual and collective
illuminated manuscripts.
The worldwide web of archives ...
of peace filled deeds well done ...
libraries of awareness
of dimensional simultaneous events,
harmonic points of experience,
existing essentially as colour in space.

We each basically agree
that living is a powerful experience,
a transformation of awe into sense,
a transfixing of sensing more presence into existence.

I can only speak for myself,
although in writing
I am aware I sometimes generalize.
I don't like generalizing,
I think it helps create wars.
At the best of times I achieve my goals
of Self-clarity, Self-insight, and Self-awareness -
at the worst of times insight is my only achievement.

During the contractions of uncomfortable sensations,
I sense the world's choices,
and I do my best to remember  -
that after contraction comes expansion,
after exhale comes inhale,
during war peace coexists
and is simultaneously being created.

I believe everyday is significant.
I believe when large numbers of people
direct their attention towards the same intention,
that intention is achieved
no matter if their aim is true.

There is something powerful about large numbers,
and I know there is great power within each one individual.

I believe every night is significant.
I believe when an individual directs their life to create peace,
they create peace, experience peace,
and sense peace within themselves -
correspondingly they sense peace
within other individual forms of life.
If they love peace they experience peace -
no matter what is going on around them
and other people's choices.

There is power in the individual,
and I know each individual
is designed structurally unique -
to provide Self-empowerment
to journey their own life
through the gates of personal choice
and very personal unique experience.
Transcending the portals
made while creating
their own life's events.

I believe that our present-day lunar-calendars
are more accurate than our present solar-calendars.
I believe that most calendars mark time,
and time no longer exists as a true force of Nature.
Due to the shape of our planet constantly changing -
our space in Space is constantly altering,
our relationship and understanding of time shifts ...
We teach ourself to see and know
that Earth constantly alters it's shape,
and it's influence on the illusions all around us.

I believe there is a relationship between
the shape of our Earth's form -
Earth and Lunar illumination by the Sun -
and the time it takes our Earth's form
to clock it's rotational spiral of travel.

I believe the Mayan calendar,
and other ancient calendars,
were left by our ancestors
for us to study,
in order for us to remember
who we truly are
and what we are capable of.

It is interesting that our ancestors knew
they could imagine
therefore influence
and so share in our lifetime
and our generational future.
From the past ancestry participates
in the crafting of our sphere of life.
Ancient calendars take into consideration life
in all it's shape shifting forms.

Large numbers of individuals
are uniting in belief
that they can create
large shifts of perception.
To me 11:11:11 was one day
that I recalled
the life force of one,
that is now,
multiplied in existence,
as many.

I number myself as one,
in a line of many other ones ...
The Ones who have come before me,
The Ones who created history,
and The Ones continue to co-exist
now in the current of world stories
being created and recreated infinitely.

I choose to believe each individual is special.
I choose to believe each individual culture is special.
I choose to believe each individual is gifted
with Self-determination and Self-respect.
I respect my Mayan friends as they live in this World.
I do not expect them to live in ways other
than they feel is right and of their birth right as Mayans.

A World
where individuals sometimes tell others,
that they do not exist,
that they are disappeared,
is a limited world of misperceptions
and misguided limitations.
To vanish a culture
is to believe you have some mysterious power of right -
rights over other individual's rights.
The right to not understand,
the right to not attempt to communicate,
the right to reject, revenge
and rakishly devour
the cultural worlds of other individuals.

Mayans were not vanquished off the face of this World,
by the invading colonial powers
and their governing politics
which required funding.
Mayans are being slighted and ignored
and so therefore colonialism is alive
and well secreted
within the hearts of schooled children.
We who are taught stories
about history imaging the worse,
and those who teach history
that imagines only sharing revenge stories -
which portray the indigenous people
as obstacles to be overcome.

Until we learn to respect and honour
the First Peoples of our planet,
the First Cultures of our Earth,
then we will never know peace -
we will never feel, value or respect peace
within each individual heart and each mind.

Mindfulness can be studied but if practiced
a mind full of peace can illuminate any dark heart.

Human dignity is recognition of one's Self,
and awareness of one's Self and at least one Other.

Basic human rights create recognition of each Self,
and human basic Self-design creates
Self-identity and Self-recognition -
one's Self within the whole.

Basic human need is to be seen and heard,
and to be treated with kindness and consideration.
Each one human feels their own individual human Self-worth.

Individual intention and desire
expands an individual's vital life force -
their ability to procreate proactive inner world visions -
and have these Self-visualizations dreamed alive,
into this World of shared coexistence.
Developing your precognitive abilities
is Self-cultivating
your imagination's expansion
into more healthy imaged images of the future.

For me the significance of 11:11:11
is to re-mind my Self that I exist,
that we all exist -
that our mosaic of individual numbers
culturally weaves together
our shared group experience.

I remind myself
that new friends are arriving soon,
new friends are already in the making.
I remind mySelf
that Mayan history is very much alive,
that the legacy of their descendancy
is alive within each one of us.
Our ancestors are very much alive and well,
composing the cellular
and DNA informational essence of existence.

I recall times in human history,
when we were all taught one truth -
we knew we were all from one and the same source.
A fountain of human kindness
connectively educated every one,
about how to create one from two,
and care for the health of every one by one ...
Equations derived from each
and every one of us as equal,
and each one of us
equally important to the one,
as the sum of the whole, as it's whole.

My friends of Mayan origins
count themselves alive,
and are significant in their numbers.
Their numbers count,
and as individuals each one individual counts.
Each individual can choose to declare
I exist! I count! I matter!
I count, you count, all count!
I matter, you matter, all matters!

Each one of us,
each one individual's number
adds up to form
our world collective
and our world's history.
Count your self in.

Perhaps 11:11:11 means 1+1+1+1+1+1 ...
the significance of numbers forming
the creative world spirit, mind and body.
Count your self as one.

~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~
Sometime after 1902 Rainer Maria Rilke wrote;
"Whovever you are: step out in to the evening
out of your living room, where everything is so known;
your house stands as the last thing before great space:
Whoever you are.
With your eyes, which in their fatigue can just barely
free themselves from the worn-out thresholds,
very slowly, lift a single black tree
and place it against the sky, slender and alone.
With this you have made the world. And it is large
and like a word that is still ripening in silence.
And, just as your will grasps their meaning,
they in turn will let go, delicately, of your eyes ... "

'Ancient Flowers, Ancient Power' by Karin Lisa Atkinson

"Me, Myself, and I" by Karin Lisa Atkinson

"Arciana" by Jose Reanda Quieju

Mayan Tz'utujil, Guatemala

"Mi Hermanito" by Jose Reanda Quieju

Mayan Tz'utujil, Guatemala