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Ice girl in Banlung Ice girl in Banlung
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Entries in sensation (17)

Tuesday
Oct202020

Dancing Stars

Haiku waves flow music
Winter seas

Sensation dreams
Birds sing
Passage islands horizon clouds moon
Ink sketch free air

Quality life nature laughter
Impermanence sand castles

Language of water sand patterns
Poem play
Primitive art



Waves say hello to dawn light
Easy coast sand castles

Draw dream day

Smiling Zen
At The Green House Effect a Wish Fairy wears a jade green tooth on a golden chain.
Her brown hair curls at nape.
She looks like a pixie however she is a fairy.

After hearing a visiting wizard say, “This is the first time I've seen someone make a latte with foam," she said, “Make a wish it’s your first time.”

So he did and they talked as the orange sun played with cumulus above the blue horizon of sea green. Everything sparkled, sky, sea, clouds and Wish Fairy.
Barefoot ground soft eyes slow pace
Flow

Dancing stars

Grow Your Soul

Friday
Dec012017

One Sunday Song - Ice Girl

Chapter 11.

cambodia is a funny place. ha, ha, ha.

what do you see, asked Leo.

i see a man carrying one red brick. he’s looking for a place to put it down. he is confused. he had no idea his day would involve carrying a brick AND making a decision. he needs a woman to tell him what do. this is rare because men, in his culture, are the boss and tell women what to do. they tell them to lie down and get ready for the big thing. he is confused about accepting loss forever. his wife wears the pants. she is the now.

i see an exuberant extraordinary solid particle cow patty land-mine in the middle of a red road. it’s a steaming green mountain.

it smells like an art project.

it will be discovered by a speeding SUV leaving a trace of aroma past sweeping weeping women. it will spread itself over olfactory landscapes.

it will create new tomorrows.

welcome to a new reality game show called

Watch Women Work

or evolution of the species and social organization (+-).

log on, log in, log the forest. yeah, yeah. i am mr. monosyllable, your crème-filled hostess cupcake for this week’s exciting program. yeah, yeah.

contestant #1. a housewife in a rural village. her task is sweeping dust into piles of dust outside her bamboo shack. she has all day to complete this arduous task. repeat. dust to dust. dawn to dusk. poetic ramifications in the theatre of the absurd.

contestant #2. a housewife. she has a house. she is a wife. she has 10 children. having children is her DUTY. sex for her is nothing but a DUTY. she is a duty free outlet. her price tag has expired. everything must go. many children gives her mother and extended family someone to love and play with and yell at. yelling at kids here is abNORMAL and healthy. it nurtures their self-esteem and neurotic stunted emotional prolonged adolescence with punctuation marks.

her husband sleeps. he loves sleeping, eating and making tool babies. he doesn’t have to carry them around for nine months and experience hormonal feelings. he sleeps forever dreaming of a hammock in a bamboo forest. their children are naked. they play with trash and sing a song, sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. they burn down the forest. fire is their funny game besides yelling and whining, feed me, feed me.

contestant #3. a housewife. she mills around without attention, focus, plan or direction. she teaches by example. she hopes lazy boys and girls grow up with initiative. she knows many won’t and don’t. she pounds an anvil all day. she is a worker, a tool of production in life’s assembly factory. a simple person, she spits out many well educated clever children. this is her duty.

contestant #4. a housewife. she works. her lazy adult son watches her. he is bored watching her. he stares at the long winding dirt road feasting his small beady soul window on dirt. his eyes are pure clean red dirt. she sweeps him into the river. swim, little fish. bye-bye baby, bye-bye. he floats away.

contestant #5. a housewife. she has a diamond in her mind. she is calm and focused. she exhales beauty, truth and love. she sings all day long.

pick one to emulate with incentive and initiative and win BIG prizes.

what’s the prize? a broom, a brick, an SUV smashing a green cow patty and a garish monster home shaped like a wedding cake surrounded by a moat, walls, silver barb wire and iridescent colored candles.

anything else?

a year’s subscription to your favorite illustrated color glossy advertising magazine: “Dreams, Lies, Wishes, Hopes, and Great Expectations While Driving a Blue Dismal Diesel Dump Truck Loaded with Ice Needing an Overhaul.”

cool prizes. let’s play.

Offstage Socrates said, my quest-ion is:

How do you live a good life?

Quest-ions gathered to discuss this.

destiny’s child disguised as a black and vermillion butterfly nurtured red and orange hibiscus above a wide flowing river.

see you next week on watch women work.

*

  Away from Ice Girl’s eyes new wet season life shimmered green rice paddies.

Beauty, creativity, dance, and music described sensations.

Sensations rested between an object and a concept.

  Stimuli engaged disquiet between notes.

  How do you manifest this waking dream, said Ice Girl.

  It’s all process with mindfulness said Leo.

Ice Girl in Banlung

Friday
Nov272015

The Lover

Ling one night. Her smile, vivacious. Take her to another level of pleasure.

Trust your intuition.

Fish new waters. Explore, experiment outside bamboo shack zones after dark. Dark is the night. Cold is the ground.

Sweet and slow. Give her long luxurious pleasure. Return to her rose sensations feeling her need. Curl up in night's silence.

Sleeping alone is boring, said Sunflower, a blind masseuse.

Smell her fragrance. Soft connections w/o fear, haste, tomorrow. One night is all. Positive energies. Far away a bell.

Loves meditation at dawn welcomes restless dreamers. They turn, curl, embrace, soft and slow skeletons in shadows. Shadows on her breast, valley, legs, fingers kissed. No illusions of futures in the long now.

Love's meditation.

Rain. Angular clitoris stimulation's bliss, slow gentle, sunrise. Release rain inside soft fresh air along her skin.

Her skin is a meandering river of valleys, mountains rising hips, slow easy caresses memory's fascination.

Sitting posture dances ink.

Sleeping dreamers take a serene slow pedal along deserted foggy streets in mist.

Mountains across the Mekong sing Zen.

A Chinese painting is a floating world.

Thursday
Nov122015

open hand holds everything

A waterfall discovers a curbed grate. Grateful gravity.

A thin blue line is mindfulness.

A dragonfly hovers those words. A fragile and precious object.

Riding Mystery in LP one day before Xmas. 

Ghost-self passed: elephants, ticket agents, airlines, guest houses, women sweeping, cooking, aroma, pizza, golden wats reflecting dawn, TRIBES of sad bleary-eyed European tourists stumbling along their personal path of insight, peace, serenity, calm heart-mind.

Ghost-self sang, "oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, everything's going my way," humans stared as words penetrated ears - sounds swirled through layers of sensation seeking meaning. ZAP!

A young orange robed monk swept the world's dust.

Cleaning the world of sensation and perception.

Dancing down days with Laughter.

Laughter's soft eyes gestured, An open hand holds everything.

Wednesday
Oct072015

Courage

I am fearless and fortunate. Courage.

There are not many things you need to remember about your visit to Earth.

Compared to death all life is short.

Remote viewing. Practice upstairs telephone. Remote intervention.

Ter- hidden. Ton- treasure. Terton (Sanskrit)

It was a Halloween day at the small private school in Vientiane. He wore a sign around his neck. "I am a deaf mute. No speak. No hear. If you want to talk to me please write. Thank you." He carried a pencil and paper.

What was the response?

It varied from ignorance to laughter.

Were there any interesting comments?

One boy wrote, you talked yesterday.

Yes, I wrote, today is a new day.

Another?

How can you be a teacher if you don't talk?

I use pictures. I read lips.

Tell us about your sensations.

Many visuals - kids in costumes, playing games, having fun. The adults thought I was crazy. They didn't write anything.

Not curious?

No, lost, as in absent. Not present. They were mute manifestations of the silent inexpressible FEAR. I was deep in my own world of silence. I appreciate that. Yes. It was subtle, clear and immediate. I learned many valuable lessons. Visual sounds.

Slowing down, meditation, awareness, solitude.

Yes, most ignored me. I imagine either they were too shy, shocked or mute. Too lazy to take the pencil and scribble. Scribble their frustration or FEAR.

I appreciate the value of silence now. More so than when I was afflicted. Being pure and radiant. It is a blessing with gratitude and forgiveness.

A combination of no voice, no hearing is perfect in myriad ways.