In town I phone a friend
only to learn of a friend in New York’s murder.
While I was held hostage at the Fiji airport,
during the "dangerous coup"
while my friend "safely" in New York
was having his life taken from him,
and his last breath stolen.
Back in the countryside,
at the Fiji-airport-guard's-cousin's-Guest-Hostel,
I find my bag broken open, and possessions robbed.
What is in my heart, I choose.
As it is within, so it is without.
I choose life, to not steal or degrade any other one's life.
I will more life within my Self.
My life.
My life continues on with, and without my material possessions.
I choose to spend a few minutes letting go,
unwinding the stories being told inside my head.
I choose to break open my own heart to discover more.
I am feeling deeply the loss of my friend.
I am not feeling anything concerning my lost and stolen things.
My life.
The illusions in life
can sometime overwhelm my Self-awareness,
yet never exterminate my light,
nor over power my Self-empowerment.
My life.
I decide to discipline my perspective.
I once saved my life,
and the life of my girlfriend,
by apologizing profusely
to an angry boy-man
cutting the air
with a sharp whirling knife.
He desired the intimacy of respect,
at the sharp edged end of a knife.
His devotion to the aggressive worship of love,
and his insincerely acted out desire, not of his Soul -
brought us together, not bound, in mysterious ways.
His life and my life did not meet under the best of circumstances.
His life and his choices were different,
very different than my life and my choices.
His life ended young.
My life has no end of insight.
My life.
I do not always enjoy history that repeats -
stories of stolen pride, false ego, breaking hearts ...
and so my Self-charitable act of the day
is to repeat the Mantra –
"possessions share no value equal to any life."
Even possessions which in their making cost lives,
and possessions which people spend their lives attaining -
do not value the life that was spent or taken for them.
My life is of my own making.
My life is a reflection of my own attainment.
My life.
I have spent some of my life witnessing the expenditure of life for life.
An exchange of life Spirit to manufacture, lose or gain more material life.
As I grieve for my friend it seems like ...
pure nature creates impure products.
Or in my grief it seems ...
impurity shines within us all,
illuminating our purest Self-nature,
transforming presence into more essence of presence.
This is it ... is that it?
My life.
Possessions share no value equal to my life within my heart.
I keep my life force in balance ... and ...
I place a incantation of good intention on my stolen goods ...
I evoke my energetic directive to conjure ...
"More wealth of responsibility,
for whoever now possesses my former goods -
For whoever now possesses my objects,
that they desired,
by their own desire and will-power
they will-lead
an enhanced life of increased merit.
They will become do gooders, living to do good."
My directive compounds their cost of gain.
Everything in life is free, yet not free,
of the cost of responsibility to accountability -
especially stolen life force
of one from another ...
stolen life by force.
My life cannot be taken or stolen.
It is my life.
My life.
I pass the night in mourning
with my passport and money cached in my brassiere.
I wake up charged with a renewed sense of adventure.
Determined to take the bus full circle around the island,
to experience the Fijian’s point of view of their homeland,
I depart.
I decide
to go to the other side of the island
to the capital city of Suva.
To explore the life of others,
and explore my own life.
A non-native lady at the bus stop insists I must sleep on the bus,
because the only stop along the road for the night
is a Native Fijian village.
I decide to get off
at the Fijian village of first people's who care for this land.
After all is said and done ...
after everything is gained and spent ...
I value my life experiences, of life.
My life.
On buses in Central America I mastered the art of blending in,
by practicing the skill of sleeping awake,
yet gaining strength,
on any moving object.
I apply my well earned experience
and knowledge of this well learned trait.
I will my chin to nod against my chest,
as the bus travels in the circumference of this homeland -
Revolving around homes, I dream,
and I see my home within my life.
I see within my Self, my life.
My life.
The woman beside me nudges me discreetly,
awakening my trance
to point at my bag.
The handle of my bag is tightly secured to my wrist and leg.
My view is the hole in the floor ...
gray green leaves dusted grayer from bus contacting with road.
This lady pointing at my bag
is making deliberate eye contact with me,
then she diverts her eyes
to show me another perspective -
a young who is averting his eyes form mine..
The lady's view is of two disadvantaged and disaffected youth,
I am their view,
and my bag is within their view.
I guess that my bag is being discussed,
priced for it's potential value.
So, yet again, the contents of my life
are being abstractly evaluated
for surrealistic obtainment -
shall we risk our lives to potentially steal her life.
The only thing that might be stolen from me is their possibility for more.
No more, more except more of my life.
My life.
I have no plans to work my way through Fiji broken and hungry,
so I hum a warm-hearted song to awaken kindness within -
to those without, and to those without a fully awaken heart.
I accompany my song with a do-not-cross-my-boundary-glare ...
perfected while living in New York and Los Angeles in the 1980s.
I have no urge to demonstrate my survival skills,
so I scan for sympathetic eyes among the bus passengers.
I telepathically ask for camaraderie,
the attention of the other women on the bus,
I include their pigs, roosters, chickens.
The whole assembled busload senses a disturbance in the force.
All the women, animals and birds become restless for my defence,
they awaken their felt-sensations of the appreciated value of life.
They awaken their Self-worth, and come in aid of me caring for my life.
My life.
Old enough to be humiliated
by the possibility of being beaten by women and chickens -
the boys get nervous.
The gang of boys huddle to discuss
the odds of potential versus possibility,
and possibility versus probability.
We all pause while they reach their verdict.
The women join me in song,
pretty soon we are all singing,
especially the pigs, roosters and chickens.
Protected by gentleness of my gender's heart,
and my heart-felt friendliness,
I use good-nature as my weapon of choice.
I save my life to be lived by me.
It is after all is said and done, my life.
My life.
A woman’s truth often begins and ends with true diplomacy.
True diplomacy often ends disputes by giving food,
and nurturing immature egos.
I offer the boys chewing gum,
and they accept the terms of truce.
They chew and savour their lives.
I save the savour of my life.
My life.
A woman's wisdom is understanding diplomacy,
and that diplomacy ends disputes
by accepting loves heals all wounds.
Healing the big ones and the little ones,
be it people or people's actions,
within or without ...
perhaps there are no wounds -
only life.
Many lives, each one of our lives, one life.
My life.
Woman understand wisdom is accepting the diplomacy of love.
My life is a reflection of my understanding of Self-love.
Living life is a reflection of loving the force of life.
My life is a force I live,
in reflection of
my Self-love of my own life.
Life is a force that reflects
Self-love of life -
my life, your life, our life, pure life.
Wisdom is accepting the diplomacy of love of life.
My life.
Life ... mine, theirs, yours, ours -
all is life being lived unmeasured and unbridled.
A life unexperienced is a life not lived.
A life not lived is a Soul not fully born.
A Soul not fully born
knocks it's head
against the doors within,
wanting out,
wanting to explore the experience of it's life.
To each their own life.
This is,
My Life.
~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~
Sometimes after 1938 Charles Simic wrote;
“It looks so dark the end of the world may be near.
I believe it’s going to rain.
The birds in the park are silent.
Nothing is what it seems to be,
Nor are we.”
only to learn of a friend in New York’s murder.
While I was held hostage at the Fiji airport,
during the "dangerous coup"
while my friend "safely" in New York
was having his life taken from him,
and his last breath stolen.
Back in the countryside,
at the Fiji-airport-guard's-cousin's-Guest-Hostel,
I find my bag broken open, and possessions robbed.
What is in my heart, I choose.
As it is within, so it is without.
I choose life, to not steal or degrade any other one's life.
I will more life within my Self.
My life.
My life continues on with, and without my material possessions.
I choose to spend a few minutes letting go,
unwinding the stories being told inside my head.
I choose to break open my own heart to discover more.
I am feeling deeply the loss of my friend.
I am not feeling anything concerning my lost and stolen things.
My life.
The illusions in life
can sometime overwhelm my Self-awareness,
yet never exterminate my light,
nor over power my Self-empowerment.
My life.
I decide to discipline my perspective.
I once saved my life,
and the life of my girlfriend,
by apologizing profusely
to an angry boy-man
cutting the air
with a sharp whirling knife.
He desired the intimacy of respect,
at the sharp edged end of a knife.
His devotion to the aggressive worship of love,
and his insincerely acted out desire, not of his Soul -
brought us together, not bound, in mysterious ways.
His life and my life did not meet under the best of circumstances.
His life and his choices were different,
very different than my life and my choices.
His life ended young.
My life has no end of insight.
My life.
I do not always enjoy history that repeats -
stories of stolen pride, false ego, breaking hearts ...
and so my Self-charitable act of the day
is to repeat the Mantra –
"possessions share no value equal to any life."
Even possessions which in their making cost lives,
and possessions which people spend their lives attaining -
do not value the life that was spent or taken for them.
My life is of my own making.
My life is a reflection of my own attainment.
My life.
I have spent some of my life witnessing the expenditure of life for life.
An exchange of life Spirit to manufacture, lose or gain more material life.
As I grieve for my friend it seems like ...
pure nature creates impure products.
Or in my grief it seems ...
impurity shines within us all,
illuminating our purest Self-nature,
transforming presence into more essence of presence.
This is it ... is that it?
My life.
Possessions share no value equal to my life within my heart.
I keep my life force in balance ... and ...
I place a incantation of good intention on my stolen goods ...
I evoke my energetic directive to conjure ...
"More wealth of responsibility,
for whoever now possesses my former goods -
For whoever now possesses my objects,
that they desired,
by their own desire and will-power
they will-lead
an enhanced life of increased merit.
They will become do gooders, living to do good."
My directive compounds their cost of gain.
Everything in life is free, yet not free,
of the cost of responsibility to accountability -
especially stolen life force
of one from another ...
stolen life by force.
My life cannot be taken or stolen.
It is my life.
My life.
I pass the night in mourning
with my passport and money cached in my brassiere.
I wake up charged with a renewed sense of adventure.
Determined to take the bus full circle around the island,
to experience the Fijian’s point of view of their homeland,
I depart.
I decide
to go to the other side of the island
to the capital city of Suva.
To explore the life of others,
and explore my own life.
A non-native lady at the bus stop insists I must sleep on the bus,
because the only stop along the road for the night
is a Native Fijian village.
I decide to get off
at the Fijian village of first people's who care for this land.
After all is said and done ...
after everything is gained and spent ...
I value my life experiences, of life.
My life.
On buses in Central America I mastered the art of blending in,
by practicing the skill of sleeping awake,
yet gaining strength,
on any moving object.
I apply my well earned experience
and knowledge of this well learned trait.
I will my chin to nod against my chest,
as the bus travels in the circumference of this homeland -
Revolving around homes, I dream,
and I see my home within my life.
I see within my Self, my life.
My life.
The woman beside me nudges me discreetly,
awakening my trance
to point at my bag.
The handle of my bag is tightly secured to my wrist and leg.
My view is the hole in the floor ...
gray green leaves dusted grayer from bus contacting with road.
This lady pointing at my bag
is making deliberate eye contact with me,
then she diverts her eyes
to show me another perspective -
a young who is averting his eyes form mine..
The lady's view is of two disadvantaged and disaffected youth,
I am their view,
and my bag is within their view.
I guess that my bag is being discussed,
priced for it's potential value.
So, yet again, the contents of my life
are being abstractly evaluated
for surrealistic obtainment -
shall we risk our lives to potentially steal her life.
The only thing that might be stolen from me is their possibility for more.
No more, more except more of my life.
My life.
I have no plans to work my way through Fiji broken and hungry,
so I hum a warm-hearted song to awaken kindness within -
to those without, and to those without a fully awaken heart.
I accompany my song with a do-not-cross-my-boundary-glare ...
perfected while living in New York and Los Angeles in the 1980s.
I have no urge to demonstrate my survival skills,
so I scan for sympathetic eyes among the bus passengers.
I telepathically ask for camaraderie,
the attention of the other women on the bus,
I include their pigs, roosters, chickens.
The whole assembled busload senses a disturbance in the force.
All the women, animals and birds become restless for my defence,
they awaken their felt-sensations of the appreciated value of life.
They awaken their Self-worth, and come in aid of me caring for my life.
My life.
Old enough to be humiliated
by the possibility of being beaten by women and chickens -
the boys get nervous.
The gang of boys huddle to discuss
the odds of potential versus possibility,
and possibility versus probability.
We all pause while they reach their verdict.
The women join me in song,
pretty soon we are all singing,
especially the pigs, roosters and chickens.
Protected by gentleness of my gender's heart,
and my heart-felt friendliness,
I use good-nature as my weapon of choice.
I save my life to be lived by me.
It is after all is said and done, my life.
My life.
A woman’s truth often begins and ends with true diplomacy.
True diplomacy often ends disputes by giving food,
and nurturing immature egos.
I offer the boys chewing gum,
and they accept the terms of truce.
They chew and savour their lives.
I save the savour of my life.
My life.
A woman's wisdom is understanding diplomacy,
and that diplomacy ends disputes
by accepting loves heals all wounds.
Healing the big ones and the little ones,
be it people or people's actions,
within or without ...
perhaps there are no wounds -
only life.
Many lives, each one of our lives, one life.
My life.
Woman understand wisdom is accepting the diplomacy of love.
My life is a reflection of my understanding of Self-love.
Living life is a reflection of loving the force of life.
My life is a force I live,
in reflection of
my Self-love of my own life.
Life is a force that reflects
Self-love of life -
my life, your life, our life, pure life.
Wisdom is accepting the diplomacy of love of life.
My life.
Life ... mine, theirs, yours, ours -
all is life being lived unmeasured and unbridled.
A life unexperienced is a life not lived.
A life not lived is a Soul not fully born.
A Soul not fully born
knocks it's head
against the doors within,
wanting out,
wanting to explore the experience of it's life.
To each their own life.
This is,
My Life.
Life is a force that reflects Self-love of Soul -
your Soul, my Soul, our Soul, pure Soul.
My Soul generates my life-force.
My life-force reflects my Soul in my life.
My life-force reflects my Soul in my life.
Life is a force that reflects the Soul in life, of life -
your life, my life, our life, pure life.
Life being lived.
Wisdom is accepting the diplomacy of love of life.
Life lived.
My life.
My life.
~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~
Sometimes after 1938 Charles Simic wrote;
“It looks so dark the end of the world may be near.
I believe it’s going to rain.
The birds in the park are silent.
Nothing is what it seems to be,
Nor are we.”
Image Credit: Karin Lisa Atkinson
