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