New Friends

today remains a memorable day

today, December 24, 2007. today i went to the mall. (those who know me know a mall is the last place to find me). today i went to the mall to spend time by myself. family coming out my ears, eyes, nostrils- family still there after i blink, after i wake up, after i eat, after-between-before-around- just everywhere! and i went to the mall without wallet and any id, i went with notebook and pen. to be me- to write. (my cousin needed more presents so i shared a ride with her and told her i'd meet up with her when she was through)

wandering through this mall in Binghamton, NY- observing folks and looking for a place to sit and write. with no money i felt guilty going into a coffee shop knowing i wouldn't be able to buy a seat and time to sit, to write. i found a bench, crossed my legs and began to write. fine. observing couples, families, factions, fashions... fine. (thinking, too- i can't believe i'm at a mall!!!!)

i wrote this "big shoes steppin, punks and goths. more lip gloss colors than there are shades of people. perfume so sweet- our bodies make our own, sweat, smell- not good enough i suppose. bottled water, colored and flavored-- still the world is thirsty. breads, chocolates, coffees-- still the world is hungry. stores, bags, bows and toys- still the world is lonely. cars, planes, cell phones-- still the world is distant." the next word i wrote was "strangers"

then i looked up, two people had just sat down on the bench where i sat. isn't this america? where every man is for himself and this bench is meant for one even though it holds three-four? i smiled, so glad these two young people had sat down. we smiled. a young couple from Jordan.
talking about life, college, English, Farsi, media, war, friends and traditions. our conversation- beautiful, memorable. my appreciation for them, their smile, these moments together forever in my heart. i will share their answer to my question about refugees in Jordan. YES. from Iraq, Iran and Palestine- they know the millions of refugees who have come to Jordan.

you might have sung Silent Night tonight. i'll never forget a few years ago when that song made me piping mad. no way could i sing "all is calm all is bright" with a conscience. blood and body parts, ravaging, retreating refugees into somewhere far from hate, bombs, fear. my new friends, this young couple from Jordan is in America. together listening and sharing- in America where hate in silence or in words become other bombs. in this conversation understanding and smiling prevailed. the three of us were safe. if we were together now i would feel okay singing, "here is calm, here is bright"

thank you friends for these moments. for reading. please remember people around the world this holiday (season), this new year, this-the rest of your life.

I'm currently reading The Miracle of Mindfulness. (Hanh). mindful of breath. but here, I mean mindful of hate, terror, war- suffering currently happening. unwrap mindfulness this year and find joy, peace, awareness and life.

peace love joy and smiles

Life Writings/4 (ctrl-v'd)

Growing. and growing up means moving from where you stand, accepting new faces concurrently with saying farewell to familiar smiles. perhaps growing up resembles the feeling of buying a new pair of shoes-- first find a suitable pair, try them on in the store, walk around enough without suspicion, tilt your head right and left weighing the possibility, look at them, examine closer as you pull your leg and shoe closer to eager eyes suveying how good the grips on the bottom really are. okay, you decide, lets try it. here we go, through the check out line, shoes on feet. barcode on box scanned. old shoes nestled with silica gel packet and white tissue paper. you smell like new. on the way, life is the sliding glass door in front of you--- open. new shoes on for new adventures, perhaps uncertain how and when feet, life, will adjust as well as the old shoes did in the box now sitting on the passenger seat. well, hello life, here i am!

life is a blank canvas, propped on the easal of life so far. and growing up. from waiting for the school bus as a bright, beaming, little kidnergardner to now.life now is packing duffels, planning lunch dates, hugging longer, holding sweeter to commonality, community even. rolling mattresses, folding clothes and pressing them into zippered, enclosed, traversable mediums so, like you, it is free and ready to go. shoes laced, mental or actual check list run through, stuffed in a coat or pants pocket. camera packed. leisure crossword, journal or book- your vade macum. tissues portable in plastic, memories potable. imbibe them as long or little for they become latent acumen for future days. frills and frissons of future -- sigh, the plane finds the air to be friendly so it stays over an ocean, several land masses until its tired and ready for land again.

adjust your sweater, zip up yoru jacket, stretch up your arms and breathe out! breathe in... hmm. are you feeling zen? leaving is slow, difficult, exciting, uncertain, strange yet happening none the less. does leaving mean arriving? (pause). peace love smiles. bon voyage. hasta luego. arrivederci. ten cuidado. ve gates (misspelled GER). bon swa zanmis. you are beautiful, ebullient, exuberant and the people to whom you are present with feel your light of love, your light for life. your smile, too. perseverance for peace, justice, the good, the worthy. remember the energy and the interconnectedness of life. (the loom of life!) a smile and laughter should always be shared- shoul dthey not? and tears, too. yes?

here's to open hearts, open minds, open hands. here's to life, love, growth, change, memories, beauty, truth, purpose, experience, goofiness, incipience, evolving, culture shock, new cuisine, discovering... here is to YOU!

peace and loveBG

Poetry/1: unnamed

Baby baby cry hot tears
remember, abandon hard long nights
chasing love, pain and ghoulish fears
cool dawn dew on green grass blades
giggle running - squishy brown mud
cool cool soft splatters
on light-hearted legs prancing dancing
to sweet canorous coodle doodles of life
death and dying, bills and adult frills
sail like ships far away to even farther away lands
and hands, young hands
young bright eyes-- eyes wide blinking
thinking, noticing boys- dejecting dolls, toys
grow up like sunflowers- leaves, trees
yellow can you see yellow
seeds can you taste salty seeds
sunflower power, smiling sun earth girl
grows, earth child alongside her Mother Earth
choking, resolving, adjusting, deciding
pathways and park days over highways and parkways
simple sustenance, reds, oranges, yellows, greens
vibrancy, she rises, colorful, courageous
ebullient, exuberant
searching life for extant energy
energy that summons the tide forth
energy that stares the tide away
inviting a dry day sandy shore
desert sand, jungle land, arctic ice, southern spice
take a turn through time
searching for the hiccup in time when dignity dropped
common humanity hit the fan
shredding into a million pieces, streaming ribbons
propelled by inside, suffocating, suppressing, oppressing air
suddenly I see the ships of death and dying
of fear, war and lying
reaming, ramming towards yellow seed sunflowers
Mother Earths baby trees trampled by mustached masked men
with greed and vain-glory gobbling about
green grass turns burnt brown and squishy mud
dries, cracks like hearts frozen and broken
melting maybe, sometimes--de vez en cuando mamasita, querida
baby baby go on and cry
for the world wreckage and hateful patronage
perhaps pushing people apart so--
hope, like dawn, renewing, re-uniting soul and self
hope so sweet, daring hope in healing tears
over parched, cracked ground-- softening soil
roots, it's okay, you can take hold here
ships still sail
all those tears transform fresh water
to salty waters-- un-imbibe-able
salty seas for solidarity ships
welcoming winds of change, peace, cool
steering and leading rudders to lands
of yellow seed sunflowers, soft soil
Mother Earth and Grandmother Moon
Sister Love and Brother Peace
life, imperfect yet exuberant
one step in the mud- splatters, still
voice speak, tear feel, life live
verbs action, be become come into being
evolve, respire, inspire, desire and fire
fire of life, love, loss, ships and sails
tears and trails, trials and tears
go on baby cry, cry the long nights
hot tears, of fears, illuminating lyres
coodle clear chorus cheers
dab dismal doodle dears
all--- all of those years.

Life Writing/3

Be Alive
Respect Life
Share
Breathe deeply
Love
Walk peace
Develop community
Observe
Seek to understand
Appreciate
Listen well
Introspect
Inspire creation
Discover meaning
Practice mindfulness
Smile

Life Writing/2

We say hello too fast and goodbye too soon. Before you know it, another headline scrolls across CNN ... but there is no time to read more than the few words that say, "Iran to Bomb Israel if Attacked." And then, I think-- expletives and angry faces, wrenched hearts and clenched fists only makes swallowing harder.
If life were a tree, I would see it dying before me. Hit by a lightning bolt of hate ... a mysterious force that entered the world, but how? and why, oh God? the world is on its knees praying for the roots of this tree to grow back again. But it has not rained in months, in years-- the land is parched for love, peace, dignity, respect and liberation. Trees like these cannot grow cannot expound goodness and life under such conditions.
Where are the peacemakers? the organizers? where is the love, the smile, the pause to listen to a friend, the care to ask a janitor how his day is going, to read the article "Iran to Bomb Israel if Attacked"...
Where am I ... lost in a turbulent sea of global turmoil. Trying to stay afloat, not get swept over by the tidal wave of reading assigned work, or by insecurities, ignorance, and an overwhelming feeling that I do not know enough, or that I forget what I have learned.
Iran, the question ... Iran. my answer is, I don't know. I hope to God that politics and economics would stop annihilating the world and the precious people who, so helplessly (I think and feel) fall under and into the wrath of such fierce forces. I hope to God that peace would become more than an ideal and that the question of entering Iran would never even exist to be a logical thought or present day reality.

Recommend/1

Recommending:

Iran Awakening- Shirin Ebadi
Ebadi is an Iranian woman, a human rights advocate-- living for justice and peace, working for change. Her memoir dispels any complacent, apathetic desires-- read this and learn how one person's passion and perseverance brings necessary change. Read this and learn about a country the U.S. is frighteningly flirting with.

Baghdad Burning- Riverbend
Riverbend, a young Iraqi woman blogs life as she knows it to be in Iraq. Painting a painful, beautiful, heart-mind provoking picture of harrowing reality of what war in Iraq means. Please read this book and open yourself to awareness of this reality, this perspective.

The White Man's Burden- William Easterly
Easterly, an economist and professor at NYU discusses the difference between Planners and Searchers and the malignant effects of foreign aid, loans, bureaucracies on impoverished countries. He writes how the West's efforts to improve hunger, poverty, death and devastation have exacerbated countries-- especially how America's involvement with and in countries has in fact dismantled well being and homeostasis and shaken social, political and economic life for the worse. Read this book and learn the ineffectiveness of top down planners and recklessness of corruption. Be a bottom up searcher-- experience injustice, talk to people, learn what needs to be changed and together, organize and work for justice and stability.

George Orwell's Politics of the English Language

In our time, political speech and writing are largely the defense of the indefensible. Things like the continuance of British rule in India, the Russian purges and deportations, the dropping of the atom bombs on Japan, can indeed be defended, but only by arguments which are too brutal for most people to face, and which do not square with the professed aims of the political parties. Thus political language has to consist largely of euphemism., question-begging and sheer cloudy vagueness. Defenseless villages are bombarded from the air, the inhabitants driven out into the countryside, the cattle machine-gunned, the huts set on fire with incendiary bullets: this is called pacification. Millions of peasants are robbed of their farms and sent trudging along the roads with no more than they can carry: this is called transfer of population or rectification of frontiers. People are imprisoned for years without trial, or shot in the back of the neck or sent to die of scurvy in Arctic lumber camps: this is called elimination of unreliable elements. Such phraseology is needed if one wants to name things without calling up mental pictures of them. Consider for instance some comfortable English professor defending Russian totalitarianism. He cannot say outright, "I believe in killing off your opponents when you can get good results by doing so." Probably, therefore, he will say something like this:

"While freely conceding that the Soviet regime exhibits certain features which the humanitarian may be inclined to deplore, we must, I think, agree that a certain curtailment of the right to political opposition is an unavoidable concomitant of transitional periods, and that the rigors which the Russian people have been called upon to undergo have been amply justified in the sphere of concrete achievement."

The inflated style itself is a kind of euphemism. A mass of Latin words falls upon the facts like soft snow, blurring the outline and covering up all the details. The great enemy of clear language is insincerity. When there is a gap between one's real and one's declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish spurting out ink. In our age there is no such thing as "keeping out of politics." All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred, and schizophrenia. When the general atmosphere is bad, language must suffer. I should expect to find -- this is a guess which I have not sufficient knowledge to verify -- that the German, Russian and Italian languages have all deteriorated in the last ten or fifteen years, as a result of dictatorship.

-- what do you think of this essay? I find it poignant today-- consider media's influence on thought, sway, popularity of wars, people. What gets broadcasted and why? We need to start asking questions and searching for truth of meaning. We need to be honest and detailed, intentional and committed to that which makes us come alive. Live with compassion, humility and conviction that many policies, governments, structures and systems are not just, peaceful, empowering, or good in this world. When living this way consuming (clothes to caffeine) becomes a different experience because you are aware of how your actions are part of a larger picture.


Recommend: Music--

John Barry, Out of Africa soundtrack
Bob Marley and the Wailers, Gold Discs
Miles Davis
Gustavo Santaolla


peace and love