While we watch street performers act out another Beijing opera,
I whisper to my friend Mei ~
In silence, I own the space within my inner world ~
Lightly, I breath to convert what was, into, what I am.
Quietly, I change what was inauthentic in my outer world,
Breathing my Self awake, I expand my presence
from This into That
my authentic inner world knowledge grows ~
more than That,
I alter my state of Being by being true to my Self.
~ Other People's Fingerprints ~
Sometime around the 5th-4th Century BCE
(Li Er, Li Dan) Lao Zi wrote,
“He who does not lose command of himself lives on,
he is effaced by death, but has eternal life.”
"Make your heart like a lake
with a calm, still surface,
and great depths of kindness."
I whisper to my friend Mei ~
“Customs performed as rituals are ever changing
with not one performance being alike.
with not one performance being alike.
Similarity only seems so
to those who want to perceive uniqueness as such.”
Today, I learned via the postal mail
that my friend Michael passed from this planet.
to those who want to perceive uniqueness as such.”
Today, I learned via the postal mail
that my friend Michael passed from this planet.
He died while creating his unique performance.
At twenty-eight years old,
Michael was killed in a motorcycle crash
Michael was killed in a motorcycle crash
that not everyone accepted as an accident.
Even if his death was perceived coincidental,
his life and his choices were intentional.
He gave himself permission to author his dreams,
play out his life, and die unconditionally.
His death was merely an act of punctuation on a well-written sentence.
Michael was a journalist for a newspaper in Nicaragua.
play out his life, and die unconditionally.
His death was merely an act of punctuation on a well-written sentence.
Michael was a journalist for a newspaper in Nicaragua.
He got to know people by working along side them in their fields.
The people who mourned him
were grieving for whatever reasons they had,
were grieving for whatever reasons they had,
reasons personal or political,
some people did not grieve his absence at all.
Some people felt he was deliberately killed
generating worker's dignity and protecting human rights.
Michael had established a stable life in Canada.
some people did not grieve his absence at all.
Some people felt he was deliberately killed
generating worker's dignity and protecting human rights.
Michael had established a stable life in Canada.
In appearances, he seemed to give it up for an adventure.
He ventured into the instability of change -
he exchanged whatever he had for whatever he desired -
his feeling for what his success should, could and would be.
he exchanged whatever he had for whatever he desired -
his feeling for what his success should, could and would be.
Michael's heart inspired his contribution to his own humanity.
He created the life that he felt he desired and deserved.
He altered his state of mind by being Self-present.
I do not know why the ritual of Michael’s life entered into my mind.
He altered his state of mind by being Self-present.
I do not know why the ritual of Michael’s life entered into my mind.
Maybe the Wind on my neck just blew in from Nicaragua
still carrying on it Michael’s last breath ~
the breath that made him so different
from the someone who wished him dead.
Fear blows in on the Wind
from somewhere around the world
from the someone who wished him dead.
Fear blows in on the Wind
from somewhere around the world
bringing me a reminder
to exhale my love to balance what is left.
Wind blows even stronger onto my neck,
from out of the darkness behind me,
to exhale my love to balance what is left.
Wind blows even stronger onto my neck,
from out of the darkness behind me,
so I curl my fingers
into the palm of my hand
into the palm of my hand
in order to press into my depths -
to cut through my layers of life,
to see past
"my what was"
and see into
"my what is".
I want to rise to my conscious surface
"my what can be",
I want to stimulate my below surface archives
of life hidden unconsciously
beneath my skin, behind my heart,
beyond my humanity to the beginnings of eternity.
I ready my Self
for an event to emerge
from my horizontal memory,
a blast from the past brought by Wind
light enough to time travel the distance between the voids
the spaces that dimensionally bridge
the light of my awareness’s spectrum –
to connect and support my feelings
that in any moment might weigh heavy on me.
Death in many cultural beliefs is a gate of exit, a window,
a transition from one state of mind into another state of being.
For many cultures to write about death is not encouraged,
and to mention the name
of one who has passed
from this world
into the next world is forbidden.
I changed Michael's name, and wrote about him anyway.
I am not worried that, for my Self, it is wrong to remember
someone, who was close, in this world
and now is perhaps farther away, in another world.
My deciding to re-write this story
can be associated with the rain -
now pounding on my roof.
Rain is like a keyboard clattering
typing poems of fleeting existence.
Rain is a fascinating force of change,
bringing joy to whose who are dry needing to be wet,
and frustration to those who are wet wanting to be dry.
The transitions I have undergone
since I last poetically wrote,
cannot be measured
like barrels of rain water,
but can be compared to
the amount of precipitation
that has fallen on the Earth
since the beginning of time.
Rain, since transformed
into evaporated experiences
of something more,
than it's old self alone -
and something other,
than truth born out of transition.
If I have one thing to communicate
before I die,
to cut through my layers of life,
to see past
"my what was"
and see into
"my what is".
I want to rise to my conscious surface
"my what can be",
I want to stimulate my below surface archives
of life hidden unconsciously
beneath my skin, behind my heart,
beyond my humanity to the beginnings of eternity.
I ready my Self
for an event to emerge
from my horizontal memory,
a blast from the past brought by Wind
light enough to time travel the distance between the voids
the spaces that dimensionally bridge
the light of my awareness’s spectrum –
to connect and support my feelings
that in any moment might weigh heavy on me.
Death in many cultural beliefs is a gate of exit, a window,
a transition from one state of mind into another state of being.
For many cultures to write about death is not encouraged,
and to mention the name
of one who has passed
from this world
into the next world is forbidden.
I changed Michael's name, and wrote about him anyway.
I am not worried that, for my Self, it is wrong to remember
someone, who was close, in this world
and now is perhaps farther away, in another world.
My deciding to re-write this story
can be associated with the rain -
now pounding on my roof.
Rain is like a keyboard clattering
typing poems of fleeting existence.
Rain is a fascinating force of change,
bringing joy to whose who are dry needing to be wet,
and frustration to those who are wet wanting to be dry.
The transitions I have undergone
since I last poetically wrote,
cannot be measured
like barrels of rain water,
but can be compared to
the amount of precipitation
that has fallen on the Earth
since the beginning of time.
Rain, since transformed
into evaporated experiences
of something more,
than it's old self alone -
and something other,
than truth born out of transition.
If I have one thing to communicate
before I die,
about the life experience
I have had so far on my journey -
I have had so far on my journey -
I would describe the stillness
that I witness within my Self growing ...
that I witness within my Self growing ...
I would share
the sounds
which best describe
what I have witnessed.
the sounds
which best describe
what I have witnessed.
I would and I am communicating
in words shouted out, loud, clear:
in words shouted out, loud, clear:
"To thy own Self be true".
I alter my state of mind by being Self-present.
I follow the wind of the world,
from outside me, to within me ~
I inhale and I witness my breath within me,
my breath transform my world view.
my breath transform my world view.
I am change ~
I am the transformer of all my experiences,
in to the stillness, stillness of peace.
I am a peace maker, maker of my own peace.
I am the transformer of all my experiences,
in to the stillness, stillness of peace.
I am a peace maker, maker of my own peace.
In silence, I own the space within my inner world ~
Lightly, I breath to convert what was, into, what I am.
Quietly, I change what was inauthentic in my outer world,
Breathing my Self awake, I expand my presence
from This into That
my authentic inner world knowledge grows ~
more than That,
I alter my state of Being by being true to my Self.
~ Other People's Fingerprints ~
Sometime around the 5th-4th Century BCE
(Li Er, Li Dan) Lao Zi wrote,
“He who does not lose command of himself lives on,
he is effaced by death, but has eternal life.”
"Make your heart like a lake
with a calm, still surface,
and great depths of kindness."
Baiyangdian, Hebei, China 1990
