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Entries in dance (84)

Saturday
Jul022016

dance becomes you

Her long legs reached the ground.

As she bent over the green pool table lining up her stick on the cue angling Cambodia, her short black skirt ran higher. She killed time waiting for her Algerian honey.

Bank the 8 ball, side pocket.

Spontaneous - jazz - breath

Other told kid friends he was marrying Turkey for 52 days.

You are a witness.

The absurd metaphorical theatre.

Dance is process. BECOMING.

Reality is the funniest jest thing happening.

Impossible to take any of this seriously.

You don't _____ through thought but through experience.

New crystal.

Close edit.  Living (existing) in a culture of fear.

Living in Non-Memory land.

New paths, new directions.

All the "masked" humans investigate potentials and possibilities.

My work here is complete.

Have ink will travel. Zen. 

Saturday
Jun112016

Fear, Amazing Uncertainty & Healthy Doubt - TLC 84

 “What happens when totalitarian governments devolve so-called security programs?” Zeynep asked her mother - the mother of all answers.

“Don’t worry my sweet,” said neurotic mama-san living her worst nightmare with bliss, “media, politicians and bankers will invent new improved fake fears.

“They will create problems, spin them for ADD sheep and try to sell us solutions. Ha, ha, ha.

“The joke is on them. They play us for fools and idiots. Fools speak the truth. Anyone questioning authority is imprisoned for life, gassed, hauls Gobi shit, stoned to death, exiled or beheaded with jeweled swords. No worries my sweet. The manufacturing sector will rebound when shelves are empty. We’ll always have sugar and we can always go shopping. We shop to reduce our anxiety. We buy things to make us feel better. It's a temporary drug fix like religion or Xanax. Take two and call me in the morning.”

“How long will it take until people wake up and pay attention?” said Zeynep.

“Hard to say. Some will some won’t.”

“Self-awareness and authenticity is a funny thing. Letting go scares the shit out of people.”

“They suffer from FUD,” mother said twisting her hair until it caught fire.

“What is FUD?”

“Fear, amazing uncertainty and healthy doubt. They are internal psychological gyroscopes. A human’s first quest-ion is, is it safe? FUD is back with a hungry vengeance. They are hunger angels. Vociferous.”

“How long has FUD been going on?”

“You ask many quest-ions child,” fanning her daughter’s flame. “A long time. A Century is Nothing.”

“That’s the title of Omar's non-linear book, more like a jazz poem. Few read it. Fewer understood it. So it goes. It’s essential to cultivate humor and curiosity.” said Z. “What about adventure and surprise?”

“Adventure and surprise is a beautiful dangerous thing. You see the BIG picture. Talk is cheap. Character is motivation and action. Senses and language cannot be trusted. Let’s get to the verb from the get go.”

“I want to know the truth mother. Living safely is dangerous.”

“The truth,” she said, “is that life is an absurd comic process. If you laugh you last. Our illusionary insecurities and real authenticities evolve. Life is a celebration, a dance and process of becoming. It is a beautiful harsh short messy dream come true. It’s magic. We adapt, adjust and evolve. There’s no rhyme or reason. Life is meaningless. Existence precedes essence. We are flukes of the universe. We have a one-way ticket. It’s about feeling peace in your heart-mind with gratitude. Wonder, abundance, health and contentment. Help others realize their higher self.”

“I see the seed and smell the lily. Let’s go and play now. Take the day off and be creative.”

“Yes, let’s invent a game theory my darling daughter. It’s called mindfulness. Mindfulness gives you time. Time gives you choices. Choices, skillfully made, lead to freedom. You don’t have to be swept away by your feelings. You can respond with wisdom and kindness rather than habit and reactivity.”

“I shared your wisdom earlier in this wandering tale.”

“So you did. Telepathy. Reading about mindfulness it is one thing. Living it is something else.”

Holding hands they entered the world without being of it.

 

Ma Hlaing Family Boarding School, Burma

Sunday
Jun052016

everyday is a celebration

A man, wise or a fool must prepare for their end.

Cemetery space, chop wood for a cremation ceremony, white linen cloth, final letters, fixtures and fittings, a guest list. Every day is a celebration .

River. Bell. Bow. Mirror.

Laughter in the tea house. Survivors are happy. One has a secret.

Weaving women.

Everything I do is an experiment.

I am an iceberg.

Want you don't see is fascinating, below the surface.

Composite characters.

People talk about people talking about people.

It's fucking hysterical.

Sunday
May082016

Beauty of travel

The beauty of travel is the anonymouse sensation in a crowd.

On a Sunday all the Khmer men gather for coffee, tea and stories.

Do you take milk with your stories, asked one. No, straight.

Some study another's face and words.

Others study cell phones or the unposed their music video on a tv.

TV is great, said one, it allows you to give up your consciousness.

Still others study a conversation disguised as a peddler pulling his trash cart

Down a street squeezing air out of a worn plastic bottle to summon the attention of a person waiting to hear the air knowing they can pawn some junk, perhaps an old family heirloom or weaver's word loom in Lao village along a river stream of consciousness.

Or a real loom with or without threads of a dangling modifier; cotton or silk having created clothing for relatives now since gone.

The silence of conversations attracts flies.

No one bothers the stranger writing or drawing in a notebook. 

Sunday
Apr242016

DO the Mango Tango - TLC 77

I go. We go. You go. Mango. Super fruit. Buy one. Get one free. Peel it down. Peel her skin. I am a bed rabbit. Plow my field. Honey needs money. Savor my succulent mass of alpha bet your sweet ass anti-oxidants.

A. C. E. Ace a mango.

Mango’s humility skin released interior monologue. Flowing sensations danced mango simplicity with serenity. 

Mango said, “There are two kinds of people in the world.”

“What are they?” said a Cambodian named Orphan.

“They are subdivided into sub-species. There are people who want to blame you and people who want to distract you. There are people who want control or approval. There are people who face the music and there are people who run for cover.

"There are people who pay attention and people who don’t know or care what the fuck is going on. They are too poor to pay attention. There are people who make things happen and people who dream about making things happen. Yeah, and one more thing - there are people who are willing victims of their auspicious fateful situation playing the blame game.”

“That’s a mouthful of mango logic if you ask me,” said Orphan. “You mean, according to the philosopher, Damon Younger Than Tomorrow, ‘distraction is an inability to identify, attend to what is valuable, even when we are hard working or content.’”

“Yes, that’s what I said I mean because I mean what I say and say what I mean jellybean,” laughed Mango doing the tango with Taoist monks at The Temple of Complete Reality in Sichuan.

“Disorientation begets creative thinking,” said Confusion.