...in the name of ALLAH... i write for You... what did you do today...?... why...?... what purpose did these serve?... imam ghazali poses these questions in his alchemy of happiness...
...sunday... mothers day...
...today i did some of the dailies - asana for a while... why?... because it grounds me in the day... in my body... in feeling meaningful with my time... in a craft that i've grown some depth in... in prep to share with others at some point... to feel good... to float... what Purpose?... to Connect with my breath and body... as Gifts to shepherd and cherish... i recognize that this body is weak... is mortal... that these ancient ways honor the Gift of it... that these ways derive from spiritual teachings and even if i am not always engaged in the spirituality...
...monday... on the brink of tuesday...
lunar... read your mind in a book store that stay opened against all odds placed on the poker table in the underground casino off union square that i walked to watch chino in his element before his marriage 10 years to the date... and after i promised nothing to no one other than lies i told my self like the french cruller donuts from the diner on the corner of 30th, a neighborhood staple until it shut down before corona... not from the forecast of a virus but from the disease of monied bachelorettes moving in to pay landlords and realtors with dollar-sign eyes that i cringed at when i was in the cafe writing myself into stories with rebel characters dismantling babylon when babylon came and sat next to me discussing the profitability of sunnyside and woodside markets... quarter million deals...
...i counted a quarter million breaths in surya namaskar...
...i read a 785,983 words of fiction this past year and am enthralled in characters that imbue pop up convo for no reason other than to babble a progression of histories that explore meaning that i find meaning in and re-examine my life at night when the pillow sinks my brain into an abyss of imagery so colorful and stark that i wake up chanting the happenings till i can get in my journal and write it all down...
...no love from this or that person... and its me... me at once Seeking and seeking... Seeking You... and yet stuck in me and you... drawn to the mirror that you do your makeup in and that i fit clothes to fit you staying stuck on the one side that makes us two dimensional when really what i want is to walk through with you, to the other side... because we have chemistry and our bodies just an excuse to fall off the cliff at the edge of the world together...
...you go first... no you... no... lets do it together... hands interlaced fingers and veins and elbows twine and legs vine and poison ivy covers our naked legs...
...broke fast with the juice of greens infused with an apple... so did Cing... he sent me a pic... told him i'd share my recipe and thought maybe he could make use of a video i send him and then thought many could make use of it... and i never wrote back to... and i am fatherless... spouseless... and without a proper placed location...
...some would say i am a memory that drifts in a memory on a highway along the coast...
...i meant to refine my intentions for this ramadhan and got sidetracked by these songs that were left on the table next to the dates i never ate... at least not to break fast with... and listened before i opened my eyes... and in the closing i saw the mycellial network in the fruits and liquids before me... how their sacrifice was less happenstance and more intelligence and thought of this in relation to those i have odd relations with in my neighborhood and love... and i can't claim my block... no one knows me here... they only here the whispers of my past lives over the decades of walking up and down these streets but it wasn't enough to capture any indie interest...
...neither this nor that nor that nor this... i blend in well with the 4 million of this city's alienated on the edge jaded and lost... i can't say youth or young or old or poets or beats or writers or immigrant or citizen or american...
...and in the nots i am knotted into you and you and you like a stubborn braid that dreds and shoots split ends into the cracks of my skull that move subtly like tectonic plates under the cast of eyes that are not humble... even though the guy who says this seems bitter and cynical and self-loathing...
...what i'm learning is that i can hear people through their voices... that i get glimpses of them...
...ok... alright... i've been listening to nusrat and kexp and interviews with stametes and mckenna... and its nice to be liberated from a racially arrogant movement that is steeped in oppression olympics and whose on first... and it was really always me... me creating these agreements where i replaced hegemony with hegemony... each time reinforcing my marginalization...
...Reaching for You... i look for places... but am told to Connect means to do the Work and let that land You... what is the Work?... yoga... nutrition... breath... writing... Connecting... with each other to Connect with You... this is what i have to offer... and doing this as part of neither my offering nor my business, but to build and live community... inshALLAH...
...this ramadhan in the table spread... before the family of imran and the inheritance of women and the rights of the heifer... i walk to the water and pluck weeds, pausing to sniff and watching my legs roll like a cycle and i never called her up after seeing her bike past... as ghazzali would ask what -why - purpose?... i guess the real why would be pretty... and the Purpose would be to connect with the pretty... even though i experienced less than this... and neither my soul nor my heart were nourished...
...in the name of ALLAH...
...the question is this: how do i share my Work? make a livelihood?... Connect with You... honor the dreams of family?... build family?... actualize Purpose?...
...if this was the month that revelation happened... and if ALLAH required us to partake in this... then this is a month of revelation for us... how?... how do i gain the signs for self-Actualization?...
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