Friday, 30 March 2012
Wednesday, 28 March 2012
Immediately, I fall into a field, transformed into a beast with qualities of a saber-toothed tiger, a large prehistoric dog and massive reptile. I fly, as with vestigial wings, across the golden, low-lying field on foot, beside me are other beasts of similar quality. Above us, a helicopter hovers menacingly. We race towards a cliff side and plummet off its edge.
ghost of the stalking whispers of human division blind my inside vision as I stir with personal betrayal over the family history in spirit, the moment's occurrence on this very land, quiet peacemaking, mobility tightly screws the factions of an embittered mind each hour, dying to the painful alcoholic grimace of glum infamy
our brewed, wide, drunken grave stammers, laughing to the holy fix and we are reduced to a liar, crying on man towards a mule
Monday, 26 March 2012
A frenetic blur of imagery sparks like lightning through an overcast sky in my subconscious as I travel through unknown whereabouts and experience fragments of lived time with indiscernible rhythms and consensual mysteries evacuating from my internal realizations as soon as they are actualized. Upon waking, there is an absolute fading of dream memory at once overcome through cleansing the doorways to my dreaming with pristine internal perception inspired by listening to John McLaughlin’s composition “Lotus Feet.”
Saturday, 24 March 2012
“Visualization is like a language that you can use to talk to your subconscious. Your subconscious is the part of your brain that’s in charge of a lot of things, but one of the things it’s in charge of is your body’s unconscious processes. How much oxygen you need is not a conscious thought…how much your heart beats is unconscious…We’re being run by a brain that we can’t talk to, but what I’ve realized is visualization is like a language that you can use to talk to your unconscious…Visualization is the universal, or symbols, is the universal language for people that don’t speak your language, your body doesn’t speak your language…look at the picture…look through it, let your subconscious absorb it for just thirty seconds, and then close your eyes…and you do it when your mind is calm and powerful and relaxed, your subconscious understands…”
- Jon Gabriel, Author and Weight Loss Expert
“The #1 best way to digest stress hormones is sleep, and deep sleep will metabolize excess cortizol and epinephrine [stress hormones] better than anything else…sleep as long as you need to and whenever you can.”
- Dr. Christiane Northrup, Best-Selling Women’s Health Author
From “Hungry For Change” ONLY 7 DAYS LEFT TO WATCH FOR FREE
"Rest During the Day, So You Can Sleep Well" - Shirazian Proverb
Thursday, 22 March 2012
"ARE YOU THE NEW PERSON DRAWN TOWARD ME?"
By Walt Whitman
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
Sunday, 18 March 2012
“For more than two years now, the Iranian state has tried to crush the dreams of freedom which arose in June in 2009. Dreams, such as those which others in the Middle East have seen come true this year.”
Pahvan Fahimi – spokeswoman for grieving mothers
“He was a child of 19, preparing to go to university. He hadn’t fulfilled any of his dreams. Who killed him? On whose orders? Why? I ask all of you. What was he asking of this country? Only peace and freedom of thought.”
“Bahar is a student and a rapper. Like most young people, in 2009, she dreams of a different Iran.”
Bahar – student and rapper
“Like an enchanted castle crumbling it took just 6 or 7 hours to erase hope. And all those who voted for Moussavi realized it was just a dream.
The Islamic Republic has always been a nightmare for me.
…they’ve done all they can to try to take that hope from us... It will go on and on, until you scream your deepest feelings, you see freedom, and you’re no longer afraid to speak your mind. And that’s the day your hope will become reality.”
From “Letters from Iran” an Al-Jazeera Documentary
Happy New Years!
Persian, Hebrew, Roman, Chinese
Many in One.
I pass my days
Contemplating the dead students of Tiananmen
And the Green Wave
Childless mothers silenced
Full of blood
Language of resistance
Firm as the vicious fluid of life
Soft as the flesh
Emaciated with the steel of tank tracks
Or torn open in a single kill shot
Or E. Mehtari
Whose stern face became lip-bitingly serious
Upon mentioning the “trouza”
In English, rape
How he holds back tears
A fight against self-pity
The death of the ego
Asking, “where is God if not in you”
Yet, when asking you fall headlong
Into your deathless presence
Where you cease to be this body of crime
As the total equation of here
In the moment
With the ground of all being
Why do some attain self-realization?
Only upon being split in half?
Sundered in shreds by our fellow man?
When did this arcane spiritual responsibility bestow devils of such wonderful emergence?
The Ahriman is certainly turning in its cemetery
Sheathed in female coverings and riot police uniforms
In these pain-ridden lands
Whose story immediately translates into our one story?
Throughout human history
In reclaiming that story
Allowing the truth to resurface naturally
As a feather, thrown with a handful of stones
Over an open lake
Thick with the opacity of crude oil
Hardening urges of those who sleep,
Upright I petition the burning skin of my Love
To recede into her inmost self-forgiving
With the same immediacy that one may feel oncoming death
Approaching with futile procession
Toward the white of their eyes
With equal subtlety
Plunging their ethereal hand
In the porous open of their now entered body
A mere passage
For the voice of all truths
Friday, 16 March 2012
"Epcor Centre for the Performing Arts yycARTS CoLAB is a free program that provides an opportunity for the public and artists of different disciplines to collaborate in real-time and be inspired to interact and explore in a welcoming and inclusive environment, embarking on a journey of artistic discovery."
As Vi An Diep artist facilitator of the event, writes:
"the action, the movement, the expression, the animation of thoughts and feelings, the conversation, the interaction, sharing, common need to continue thriving and dreaming!!!"
More Media: Calgary Herald & Avenue Magazine & Lonesome Cosmonaut
Clear your names in the sky!
Listen to others. Hear dreams in the subtle nuance of each letter voiced by our fellow artists, visionaries and seers of creation. Come to know the role of the artist. They hold many keys to our creational origin and our final undoing. In brotherhood and sisterhood, through respectful listening to our fellow artists, we may understand the cyclical flow of sacred continuity and the mysteries of Life.
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
From Democracy Now!
World War Two is ending. I am a Jew, barely surviving the tight noose of the final solution in Europe. In the cold forests of northeastern Europe, I and a female friend or relative (a sister or cousin) are caught in our hiding place. Alone and scrawny with a mind filed away by a flood of unspoken atrocity, a thick-mustached German soldier enters. His damaged and sick outlook feeds off our vulnerable state as he begins taunting and undressing my friend. We fight back, as he wants us alone in his depressed desperation at hearing the end of the Third Reich nears. I am only just barely able to escape out of a basement window as he pulls angrily at my clothes, my friend wrapped tightly in his unforgiving seizure. I tear a small, tea-stained map from the corner of a dusty book. As I slip away into the cold rush of the oncoming night, alone I wander with map deeply embedded in my memory, which at the moment is only able to recall with short-term accuracy, deeply inflicted with trauma. I pass through an underground warehouse department. Small newspaper vendors stand under intensely unnatural fluorescent lighting. Barefoot, I stammer through unnoticed, my clothes torn in rags. In my mind, the map of northeastern Europe pans out into an image of the terrain northeast of Germany. There is a German-named port that I head to without mind to distance.
At the port town, I feel at maximum potential. My muscles are torn in rags, cut deeper than my tattered and frayed clothes. My tongue lolls conspicuously. People begin to empathize as I flush past townspeople and open markets. The sea is stormy, but the salt fills my blood with a renewed heat of yearning. Ever closer to the seaside, I find a ship departing for America. I board as one would glide through the unconscious fading of dream. I am instilled with unknown glory. A blooming of compassion empties my weighted heart with the immense figure of creaking wood and sail. I eagerly march aboard. I am let on without question. The massive ship endeavors out of the port into the wide, light gray fish broth of a cloud-covered fog horizon. A petite elderly Chinese lady appears at the port’s edge just before the ship splits the first wave in the open sea. Inside the ship, warm faces reflect the surrounding gray mass of shape-shifting wet form. Suddenly, I see my sister. Her face and mine glow with golden recognition. A new smile forms upon our lips, as we’ve never tasted.
Across the sea, I spend spring in the solace of a city park. The daily ground breathes with comforting life, relieving. Drifting slowly with a confident gait, my first lover enjoys the fresh air, approaching. She smiles at me, looking older, more mature and at ease. This fills my heart with unending joy. Beside me, my brother’s musician friends who we’ve known since we were children play their instruments flat on the ground like a slide veena. Their music is serene and magically rejuvenating.
Before the end of night
Turn to light"
There are many reasons why I left
Now divorced from birthplace
I extinguish all landlocked loyalty
Before the end of night
Turn to light"
Now, I have 16 more reasons
Silently, I have countless more
Where did I flee to?
Another country with a poppy war!
I'm from anywhere
Where this requiem hits home
Before the end of night
Turn to light"
Monday, 12 March 2012
“Reading, something most of us take for granted, can help unlock remarkable powers. Reading builds new connections in the brain, which in turn allow us to use written words as stepping stones to understand other people’s worlds. A good book literally has the power to change you."
Origins of Reading
"Our ability to use our visual areas to immediately know whether that object is prey or predator is actually being recycled for us in order to be automatically recognizing symbols."
Using Nouns as Verbs
"...it's like an evolutionary tool, that's to say it raises levels of attention, it primes the mind for difficulty, and the chances are, that it may be that it leads on to the mind being ready to take different pathways from the obvious one"
"...I think that reading is a creative act in itself, as writing is, because you are creating something while you're reading it, you are bringing in your own experiences...when you can get into the minds of other characters and see what they're experiencing, it makes you better at empathizing...fiction has made me see things from other people's points of view”
Literacy and Empathy
"So, when we think of reading as purely about literacy, there's obviously another dimension to it, which is empathy."
From BBC Documentary “Why Reading Matters” documentary
Saturday, 10 March 2012
"I grew up in a very powerful, spiritual, cultural area in Brooklyn, what they call Bedford-Stuyvesant...Everybody had to take art, you had to take piano, or trumpet or violin or dance, that was in the neighborhood, and economically everybody didn't have money, but culturally it was so wonderful.
[Marcus Garvey's] philosophy of Africa, is our ancestral home. We were taken away, those of us who were taken away, we have to give back, we have to rebuild our motherland, which is Africa, and all of humanity comes out of Africa anyhow, so he was way ahead of his time.
Your history, your ancestry is your foundation."
Thursday, 8 March 2012
Embedded deep in my subconscious, a dream was invoked which actively combined elements of my imagination mixed with reality, as it were wholly over-arched with the peculiar logic of dream.
I traveled to Sudan with the Sudanese friend & mentor I met while in Cairo. Together we left for Khartoum from Egypt. When we arrived, I found myself called to visit an ecological park. The city infrastructure and the park itself is strongly reminiscent of Puebla, Mexico where I recently visited. Also, the park reminds me of a painting I used in The New West of Dreams, however with features of Calgary's eastern outskirts in midsummer, with straw grass, lit beige along the side of railroad tracks unto an open field horizon. This is important, as entering through this imagery leads me into a labyrinth network of my psyche set in a past residence. In this case my Zamalek dormitories are transformed to receive me, with special emphasis on their washrooms, out of which I meet an unusually forward acquaintance who begins to accompany me and assist me throughout the city. This friend is someone who I studied with in Canada and met again in Cairo, asking him to volunteer as a part of a research project. In this dream, he takes another name as we've since fallen out of contact.
The substance of the dream lies in me going into the city of Khartoum. As I've never been there in a waking state, I create the city out of sketches of video I have from a research project I collaborated with there in June 2010. I often return to the ecological park, however my friend from Sudan resides in the city. He is the principal character in this narrative. Over tea, he emphasizes to me the fundamental error of my research, which if on the subject of refugees should not be "why are there refugees?" but instead "how do we get these people out?" One should not undermine or exploit an act of exile, as exile is often the most decisively conscious choice of all.
Now, the trick to remembering the content and substance, i.e. narrative structure and significance of the dream, as practiced in this example is that after forgetting the dream, after its sleep cycle had ended, I dreamed lucidly, where I told the story of what I went through in Sudan to close friends and family in intimate settings, and it brought me right back into the substance of the previous dream. Upon waking, the only discrepancy between dream memory and waking memory is the fact that I never traveled to Sudan, though the content of the dream itself was wholly based in waking memory.
When one is able to manipulate their psyche with regard to memory and consciousness, one finds that upon waking, the substance of reality becomes more and more resonant with principles of dreaming.
and what do our ramshackle hearts smell?
close to a savage waste
as overwhelming and without choice
as drowning in the rice stew magic
of a motherless animal
eaten raw, over a lover’s fattened tummy
now screwed into all intoxication
and psychic bewilderment,
until the stare blows rhythms of ancient minds
- excerpt from "Cave Home"
Tuesday, 6 March 2012
Hindu, Jew, African, American, Buddhist, Native American
Can you guess who said what?
"We are not different, that is African, that is...No, we are all brothers"
"You can have millions of styles all aiming at the same direction"
"We are flowers, in one garden."
"He gave us everybody"
"It's never said there is only one path, it's almost, any path which is based on compassion"
"As long as I know I love myself I'm okay."
Does it matter?
"You have to develop your own one-on-one relationship with the Mystery, with the Divine."
Sunday, 4 March 2012
|Three Bodhisattvas Witness World Compassion Harmonizing by Vi An Diep|
Praising Tara by her divine actions of dispelling conflicts and bad dreams
Homage to you who are honoured by the kings of the hosts of gods,
And the gods and the kinnaras.
Through all your joyful and shining pervasive armour
All conflicts and bad dreams are dispelled.
Last stanza from “Offering the Mandala”
Thus, O Sublime object of refuge,
Please quickly protect all living beings
From fears such as sickness, spirits, obstacles,
Untimely death, bad dreams, and ill omens.
Colophon: This sadhana has been compiled from traditional sources by Venerable Geshe Kelsang Gyatso Rinpoche in response to requests made by students of Tara Centre, and translated under his compassionate guidance. September 1989.
Saturday, 3 March 2012
|Muse on Pegasus by Odilon Redon|
Source: Nation of Change
Thursday, 1 March 2012
|The Immaculate Conception of the Venerable Ones by Bartolome Esteban Murillo|
My wife lays to rest in the apartment building where she had first arrived from Vietnam to Canada. In her early childhood, she was a babysitter for many immigrant children in this Chinatown block, when the city was much different, more spacious, green and communal. In her dream, small children levitate above her, they take her hand but she does not levitate with them, she flies. Transcending the bounds of her childhood brick home, she soars out over the pine forests beyond the city limits.
To dream of levitating means that you are holding on to far-fetched and outlandish ideas. You need to be more realistic. You are feeling helpless and disconnected with those around you. To dream of someone levitating means your desire to be helpful and supportive to others.
If you notice green trees and vegetation below you in flying, you will suffer temporary embarrassment, but will have a flood of prosperity upon you.
“To dream of flying means being able to control your dreams and project yourself astrally.” Posted in response to the dictionary interpretation by chmee
throughout pulses of grain and sweat
in the final drink
Before deciding, cross the impassioned switch
into non-being with our lifted sky
in the eyes and ears of a late transmigration
into a head of wires and a spotted flame that rises,
breaking in a silence of loss
in the oxygen gush of utter perfection
excerpt from "Hawk over a Farmer's Field"