...mythic... 6.28.21...

 

...in the name of ALLAH... 

...there was a full moon on friday... or was it thursday...?... it was huge... globular... epic... mythic... in mythica...

...we were before a fire... songs... drums... dances... headstand... 

...i rooted my skull into the ground until it seeded and became conversational with mycelium... 

...i painted that mural by stream... in the ditches of cornells gorges... the one i flowed through asana in front of... but the brush was in her hands... the artist with the sharp eyes... clear... like water... 

...i fell into conversations... sunday... saturday... friday night... before the fire... a strum of chords... folk lyrics... she told me her life... her days in trauma held in the flow of her breath... the hurt like a bass guitar... an umph... a deep desire for a shoulder... i listened to her memories... her great american novel... her childhood an americana like veterans marching after a war down a town center... in applause... the crowd not knowing they could never sleep again... 

...i saw her again the following day... as she walked... said hi... she paused... we fell into story... from the night before... it was ten years before the novel... in paris... the awakening... the sound of french and coffee dripping... the pour of alcohol last month... at the liquor-shop... a new telepathic development to reveal what kind of spirits men love to guzzle... you're a jack person right?... yeah... how'd you know...?... you... your a bourbon sipper... yes... very much so... she read their alcoholic preferences like tarot... a psychic in the drown... 

...i left... i had to go... i'll be back soon... but i do want to keep hearing your story... 

...i meant it.. it wasn't a line... there was something compelling there... something in me that needed working out... that kept me enthralled in the stories of pretty in trauma... of wanting to be there... for more than a weekend... before it was over... like the moon... reaching across the horizon... as we stumbled into sleeping bags... separate... apart... our bodies returning apart from one another... into dirt... some of us remember the dead...

...today i am reminded of death... of those who've past... of those i remember because of their Love... of their Service... regardless of pay... of making it possible... and i did... i put that intention out... to manifest your dream... your Purpose... that's what the medicine man does... as he fades in the background... by placing You in the fore... 

...sahasara... 6.16.21...

 

...in the name of ALLAH... the One... Oneness... 1ness... that which Is... Always has Been... Always will Be... 

...it is difficult to grasp the Great Spirit... the Brahma to our atman... that which gave us jiva mukti... into these forms of beings... it is within reach to recognize consciousness... these voices within us... this passing through soace and time... the inability to attach to anything... no matter how much we try...

...through the crown chakra that conversation happens... between atman and Brahma... between our bodies and the Body... the drop and the Ocean... 

...what comes up for you in that conversation?... for me it is a letter... a series of letters... packed with questions and delay happenings... things i go through... and i realize in the writing that You already Know... and it is me that forgets... and wonder if it's important to remember... and why only remember the horrific or ecstatic... how i keep these closest in what i seek to gain and what i seek to avoid... and in presencing this i am reminded of the advice of the prophets... their teachings... of siddhartha gautama's encouragement to witness to go within... to be in a state of Quiet and neither leap at pleasure nor refrain from pain... but merely to witness...

...sahasara takes out the senses, the sensibility that attach us to a false reality... that keep us base... and that makes what you experience Real... 

...throat chakra... 6.15.21....

 ...visuddha... 

...spoke before kindergarten... before american kids... shell tops and lees... my voice got strangled by the to mchans and pleather michael jackson... reminded through the laughter of the 7 and 8 year olds who had the leather m.j's... repulsed not at them but at my parents for being out of it... immigrant... poor... and just not getting why having $75 sneakers and a $300 jacket that would be a point of ridicule in a month was worth it... 

...deep... i forced my parents into babylon... into spending the money they wanted to save for a house a yard to garden in... a home... and decades later their dream is flickering... and i grew older and a thousand fashion trends later realized i was wasting... wasted.. got wasted... you win... i'm just like you now and we can both hate on the system together... if it makes you feel better to have comapany in your victimhood... 

...i left... decided not to be a fahionista or a victim... i left and never turned back and am at times Quiet and at times i will question your party line on hierarchies of oppression on what's popular in racism or anti-racism in cancellations and food... 

...i pass... passed the breath test in the forest when the trees asked me to ujjayi... 

...all praise is due... 

...intention... 6.12.21...

 

...my Lord... my my my Lord...

...there are moments when i forget... when work is a rote undertaking and not an act of Worship... when i forget that more than an altar i light a candle in... it is the moment to moment interactions throughout the day with people, with cooking, with showering, with making medicine, with walking, with speaking, with looking, with listening, with smelling... that is the alter... is the vipassana... is the eucharist... is the salat...

...salat means Connection... and it is in the Surrender that we Connect... the giving over of ourselves...

...i forget... and in inquiring about the Lover... in asking about fear and edges... in asking about intention and showing up embracing what comes with it... alhamdulillah...  

...al Rahman, Rahim, Ikram, Qudus, Gaffar, Qanhar, Fatah... 

...lost it... 6.11.21...

 

...in the name of ALLAH... 

...there are nafs and there are senses... and the two seem to work in tandem... they coagulate and clot the throat and groin and heart... and burst into thought... possibilities... what to do's... it can be confusing...

...be clear about your intention... intention is everything... and then fight - show up... take action... let whatever comes at you in your steps be feedback as you fumble forward... taking lessons to grow... deepen... praise...

...yesterday i lost my wallet... i know how... i was testing my memory and it failed me... i forgot... i got distracted.... i was already moving ahead... without regard for this Gift of here and now... this keyboard and typing and the qawwal that encourages the movement of my fingers... all praise is due... 

...one thing at a time... be aware... and then whatever happens... read the signs... be grateful that you received signs... all praise is due... what am i doing right now - pumping gas with my wallet on top of my hood... i recovered my wallet and unplugged the pump... 

...use it before you lose it... whatever was in your wallet cold've been gone... just like all your assets... ALLAH warns against hoarding... encourages spending... generosity... Love... is to give what you have when you have it... which leads to the next sign...

...the Hour is certain.. whether it is your wallet or life or loved ones life... it is all marked... so take heed and do so with action... inshALLAH... 

...buried in journals... 6.10.21....

 

...there were some street lights that seeped into the translucent powder blue drapes landing on my journal...

... i was almost done with another composition notebook having stayed sitting on the milk crate i found during one of my scavenges when i first landed the apartment and randa was thrilled that we wouldn't have to be surreptitious in city shadows... 

... we had a place to retreat and our withdrawal into each other left me with extreme withdrawal symptoms when she left me and i did the only thing that made sense... i wrote... 

...i went through journals in between breaks to the liquor shop to pick up rum and jack daniels or shiraz... barely saying a word to my roommate when i got back... 

...returning to my room and my heart stopping at the flashing light on my phone... maybe she called... and left a message... 

...show up... 6.9.21...

 ...in the name of ALLAH... when i want to Connect i often listen to a dineh song - peyote healing... it reminds me to breathe... to lower my gaze... to be in a state of islam... 

...what i've been learning post-ramadhan is how essential it is to have an intention that is in Alignment... that rules out ego and places ALLAH as the audience of One... in the name in the breath of...

...so much of what my dad told me... that i read in the Qur'an and heard from islamic scholars is the importance of intention... why am i doing the yoga shoot that i am doing?... if ALLAH is not the answer... if the answer doesn't have to do with drawing people Closer... to Connecting... then i am wasting the Gift = time in this limited capsule... in this way we are like the bacteria and insects with hard shells... like the cicadias that leave their shells...

...once your intention is Clear... as the Signs will direct you... then Show Up!... fight in the Cause of the One... even though you would rather not... the only way to fight your laziness and fears is to show up to take action... and let the adversity Guide you... inshALLAH...