ramadhan 2015: eid mubarak

all praises for making it through this test, this phase, phases. the five phase theory of traditional chinses medicine. each element bleeds/blends into the other - wood into fire into earth into metal into water - green, red, yellow, white, black

the imam at the bangli masjid, with a voice like maple syrup and smile like the hare krsna teacher from mysore, said that ramadhan is like a bootcamp, an academy of training, like the military. he said that  the purpose of military training is to prepare the soldier for the battlefield. ramadhan exists, the imam expounded, to train you for the battlefield of the maya, the illusion of materialism, consumerism, sensory desires...

...nyc, my shiatsu teacher said to me recently, on a bus ride back upstate, is an assault on the senses.

tamasha, my ammu says, they say in bangla, the illusion of something happening, the crowd forming to spectate around the spectacle, but nothing's happening, or as they would say in south india, nothing doing...

the pakistani imam that led the second prayer i attended said that just as islam is being shaped to appear crazy, that instead of operating from a place of reaction and rage, we should exercise democracy, by participating in the democratice process. get  involved, he said, in participating in the communities you live in. civil engagement to ensure a better, more harmonious union.

the ethiopian sister at the sufi masjid, when i asked her what the wisdom of this ramadhan was for her, said speechlessness and selfessness. i was speechless. all praise is due...speechless.

how was your eid? inshALLAH well. 

unlike a birthday where all the focus/pressure is on celebrating a single i, it was nice to celebrate collectively, like it was all our birthday. it was. for a month, we surrendered together, gave up these senses and placed full faith in the Essence to make it through, a suspension of dsibelief in desire, lust, these cravings...and somehow it happened...even if your approach to ramdhan, to fasting is that it is a nuisance that you can't wait to be over with, that you are just starving until dusk, perhaps, at some point, during a quiet moment, you will have a reflection on what you are capable of accomplishing, that you are more than your base, lower i...

blessed b'earthday to the surrender, the surrenderers, even in regions chokeholded by the pangs of neo-colonial tricknology. blessings to the wolves in lambs skin. they even sold their lambskins on the market when i was a shorty. the desperate masses of hood bought them in droves, to look like the babylon kings. got shot. sheepskin shorties got shot. r.i.p

rest in peace for lives robbed. the millions mowed who appear without a name or a story. prayers for the snipers, "murderer, blood is on your shoulder; kill i today, you cannot kill I tomorrow." praayers for them to be more compassionate.

the lesson from this ramadhan, for me, is that everything passes, even this body, even within this lifetime. saw it wither and pass. been rebuilding. rebuilding takes work. otherwise default on obesity. work. everything is work. work is worship. the takeaway this ramadhan is to actualize, to build, to be fearless in the doing, to do it in the state of Witness... 

ramadhan 2015: day 28

went to a lecture on maintaining the spirit of ramadhan after ramadhan by imam khaled latif. he laid down four takeaways from this month: 1) keep companions who can hold you to a higher standard 2) have a teacher/guide, who can lead you in the way you need to be lead 3) do the things you would do in ramadhan, year round. 4) ....i don't remember.

thought about this ramadhan and my companions. the people around me have been mostly new friends, upstate; folks engaged in the process of becoming healers in various capacities; folks engaged in economic hardship, struggle;folks who are kind and loving and mostly non-judegemental, and non-confrontational, and understanding. it's been beautfiul being around these folks, none of whom are muslim, but who i connect with more than anyone i've ever met at the islamic center at nyu or most religious spaces. 

companionship for me has to do with acceptance. us accepting each other for who we are. companionship has to do with striving for better and holding each other to this better, by being better for ourselves as a way to be better for one another. companionship is about being around and connecting and building and carving time for those you aspire to be like.

what are the qualities the people around you have? are these the characteristics of Higher, of divinity, of the 99 attributes? 

my homegirl ash gives of herself fully. she makes sure folks are okay, buys them coffee and lunch and dinner, makes sure they have a ride if they are drunk, or don't. ash brings me to the supermarket, and to the site of my continued education. she gives, and she's barely making any money. herr husband works hard, daily, faced with life and death situations, and is making enough to put money towards their mortgage, feed their kids. yet, many people i know, make ten times what ash and her husband make, and always complain about how they don't have, think twice about buying fries or anything if any of us around, for fear of having to share, of maybe feeling like they'd have to offer out of being polite. many of the people i know in these muslim professional circles, pinch so hard, it hurts. it hurts so hard, that i can barely believe they are practicing the same spirituality.

islam is a name, i realized. we share words. common linguo, those of us who share this title of muslim - salam, inshallah, alhamdulillah, etc. these are just words. my understanding of the teachings of the prophet, is the practice of spirituality is in the doing.

the practice of worship is in the deeds. in this sense most of the muslims i know are not muslims by name. and most of the kaffir i know, are muslim by name, many of them pray, fast, use a lot of the lingo. they share business cards, and exchange professional status, and legitimate companionship from this lens of material. they pack the ic at nyu. peace to them. love to them. they are not who aspire to be like.

again, what are the attributes of those around you, in your inner circle? i am fortunate to have a dad who has committed his life to social change, a life-long activist, intellectual, writer, who does without seeking status, or money or credential. been broke all his life as a result. this meant we've been hurting to keep the lights on, all our life. but his has been the walk of jesus, moses, muhammad. he doesn't bow five times, but a thousand, in every second of the day, in how he worships the path of islam - peace and justice not just for self, but for our world. my brother has followed in his footsteps, doing without ulterior motive, moving in Quiet, banging for the community, for more gardens in the hood, and for real racial and economic equality, not people complaining about injustice from their private homes and condos and bashing white people, without seeing how they themselves are participating in the oppression...

my companion is my boy kris, who has taught me what it means to be giving, to love unconditionally. kris, who is a single dad, who has been fasting with me this month, cause we dig traits in each other as homies, as mutual aspirants. kris, who is on the brink of homelessness, barely making the payments in his project apartment, but who is constantly compromising the food of his family to feed others with his foodstamps. kris, who works hard, but isn't rewarded monetarily the way those doing social work, teaching, business, non-profit, law, engineering...are. yet, somehow, he is never complaining about how little he has, how he is broke, how his family is struggling, the way my professional muslim friends do. deep. so what is islam, and this path, if not the deeds. 

my mom taught me, continues to teach me, that life is in the doing. you can talk all you want, but you gotta do. she looks for sales at the grocery store, and atleast once a week, 20 people are over and she is feeding them, cooking from the day before. my mom does and says, when we lament about those we know who have money - the more money you have, the cheaper you get.

cheap is a way of being, is cheapening this path, is attaching real hard to something that is not here, is an illusion. give of yourself and in the process, you will set yourself free. none of those dollars you pinch when you were around others who might've been made happy from a drink, a meal you got them, a gesture...come with you. do, without talking about it, without telling the world what a spender you are, without finding ways to prove this by the gucci bags and shirts you rock, and the 6-figure car. you are cheapening the earth in the process, cheapening the air and the water, and flagrantly, yourself. 

do in Quiet, through humility, live simply, so others can simply live, gandhi said. find yourself a teacher, a guide, a shaykh. we all need one. cause reading articles, essays, books, listening to lectures on youtube, coming to a khtubah once a week, isn't cutting it. you and i need accountability, guidance. this has always been in the tradition, cause you and i need to check your/my-self, before we wreck ourself and our world...

ramadhan 2015: day 26

audzubillahe minash shaitauner rajeem...

means what? means that the desires, the senses, the lust for power, status, name, material, consumpition are, as d'angelo put it in his song devil's pie - all a lie, all a lie, slice of the devil's pie...

day 26. monday. rebuilding. ama gone from my system. ama, in ayurveda, refers to the toxins that prevent proper digestion, that inhibit assimilation of nutrients. destroy and rebuilding through kichoree and salads has led me to a new strength, all praise is due...

the lesson today comes from mama. mama is the name of the owner of this hudson cafe on warren st. that's what the boy who worked here told me, after giving me a tour of the place. said it was family owned. has been here for 6 years. 

so your folks own the spot? i asked.

well, not exactly, he said. but here's mama, he said, after we walked back through the netted swing door of the bright, dinerish-cafe, that melds the aroma of cofees, fried eggs, teas and burgers, into a beautiful ambrosia that makes my insides salviate. 

mama's back there, he said, nodding his thick head of dark wavy hair, held back by a red bandana. 

hey mama, i said, holding out my hand to the little asian woman with short hair and a face like a redwood. 

mama looked at me with curious blue eyes, through her rectangle glass frames, and smiled soft enough to make me think of my own mama. after initial greetings, after she introduced me to a stranger who just returned from trivanumalay, the place of ramana's ashram, where i aslo paid homage a couple years back, after i spoke at length with the guy, who was a music composer and did spiritual growth sessions via skype, i returned to mama.

she stood by the table i was chilling at, like she were waiting for me. and i walked right into our destiny as if i was a child learning to walk, and going faster till i collapsed into mama. 

after establishing that we both held strong asian values, that more than an ethnicity, values are at the center of everything, and spirit is what requires us to know each other. the more we delved in conversation, the greater the diamond in our rough became, and then she rained jewels on me.

i learned that mama was 62, had grandchildren in indiana, took the train there to see them and passed ithaca on the way, was thankful for the deep values she was reared in, in the phillipines, lamented about the lack of values among many nowadays, lost her daughter to an illness, and understood what signs and God were at that moment. 

religion, she said doesn't mean anything. it's how you treat people. treating people well is the greatest thing you can do. 

yes, i said, thinking of jesus, of the prophet muhammad, of how he said treat your brother the way you wish to be treated. 

you can fast all year, mama said, softly, with beatufiul intense eyes, but it doesn't mean nothing, if you treat others poorly.

that's the lesson. if the rituals of this path of surrender are not bringing you/me closer to humilty, to surrendering into the Oneness by treating the Highest in all beings, through active kindness, compassion, open-handedness, then abandon this path. then stop the fast. it's not working. do something that will...

ramadhan 2015: day 21: rebirthing

alhamdulillah...the grave...been traveling with the grave beside me. a traveler. 

i ate for the first time in 10 days last night. a short bowl of plain kichoree. the kind of bowl japenese buddhist monks eat from, so as to keep air, and water to a majority in the stomach.

when eating, the stomach should be 1/3rd air, 1/3rd water, and the remaining third is the portion of food you should have, not more. this is according to "medicine of the prophet", a book compiled in the 11th century, as a guide to traditional/islamic medicine, based on the teachings (hadith) of the prophet muhammad (s.a.w). 

the prophet fasted throughout the year, had what would be referred to in today's nutrition-seeking health world as inter-mittent-fasting. 

for ten days i had variations of water - lemon water w/maple syurp and herbal teas. i watched myself wither. i heard the battle inside, the war that waged between the noursihing and destructive bacteria within me. 

our outside is supposed to be a reflection of our inside. if our skin is supple and clear, our epithileal linings, our mucosa and mucous membranes should mirror this. if our teeth are supposed to be a window into our bone health, my bones are in need of great care. i've accumulated many cavities over the years. a steady diet of snickers, jawbreakers, corner-store munchies before class. 

we are all dealt a hand. we play our cards accordingly. or we go with circumstance. we default on passivity, of going through the motions, of waiting for someone else to make things different for us. so, slavery will go away, because other people somewhere out there are doing something about it. but you, you have your job, and your family, and your not for slavery, in fact, you're against it, but it's happening over there...

you wait...i wait...we wait for bombs to fall over us to do something...we wait for the heart attack, the colon cancer, the diabetes diagnosis to change our diet. we wait for our termination notice, of a year of unemployment, of no repsonses from employers to figure out how to be self-suffiicient. we wait for something to happen to a loved one, to spend great amounts of time with them. we wait for the police to shoot at one of our brothers, fathers, spouses, to cry out against police brutality, we wait to be locked up and thrown in the belly of a zoo, to identify with tigers and polar bears and elephants, to think why no one is doing anything about the prison system. we wait for our house to be shot up and bombed by the military to cry out against war and ask why others aren't doing anything about it, we...

...i got tired of waiting. i saw the cage of fear i was standing in. i saw and decided to escape. decided to really live by the word, instead of reading and discussing and quoting it to friends over binge samosa  and tandoori chicken and biscuits and cheese and crab legs and pasta primevera...decided it was time to do...so i heard it again...heard the words of the prophet...die before you die...heard it and saw my self, the guy hidden in the cage, playing nicely with the plugged in, the masses of arm-chair activists-critics, perfectly concoted in the chemcial formula of matrix. plugged in heavily...i fasted...really fasted...really...

...stopped eating altogether...stopped the almonds and brown rice and kale...stopped food...and watched this petite frame cave into famine east bengal 1945, famine liberated bangladesh, 1975, famine ethiopia 1985, famine palestine...famished, i withered, grew dizzy...

...spun into a trance of quranic melody...spun out of the sweat lodge, and bed, and massage sessions till i left this body, till the screams that emerged from this belly were a distant strangers, till i recognized air...

...air, i realized is sustenance. we can go without food for a while. we can go without even liquids for a time. but without air...60 seconds...

air is food. thankful for air. for the importance of this nose and pharynx, larynx, trachea, bronchi, secondary/tertiary bronchioles, terminal bronchioles, alveoli, alveolar sacs...exchange of pulmonary breath - a necessary cooperation, negotiation - carbon for oxygen...

...in my rebirthing, i ask myself, a friend asked me, how will you do things differently? 

ramadhan 2015: day xviii: day viii of liquids

audzu billahe minash shaitauner rajeem. bismillah hirahman niraheem.

in the name of...in the being of...in the presence of...alhamdulillah...

day eight on liquids, on forms of water - lemon water w/maple syrup, herbal teas, coconut water. 

usually, in the past, when i have done liquid fasts, i usually begin with a vegetable juice fast and then transtion into the water portion for a day or two. but my juicer sits dead, and my soul requires a new body to house it, one that is cleansed of the sanitation that has been piling, the attachments that have growing, the filth that has vegetated like urban sprawl in dhaka, in kannur, in bangalore.

day 6 was mrityu mukshiya mamrita...death of shaitan's pleas for forgetting this fast, for conclusion, for lets make a truce. day 6 was exorcism of the intestines, large and small, of the stomach and esophagus. a flush. 4-5 hours of back and forth to the bathroom. ommmmm...

day 7 was release of the past, a departure from this body, of letting go on a dermal and subcutaneous level. sweated.

day 7 was  swedhana, sweat, a sweat lodge that my boy holds keys to, passed down from the tradition of bear, after 15 years of apprenticing, of being chosen between the two brothers of the father bear. 

day 7 was yesterday. watched the erection of stones being enflamed by the encasing slabs of wood. day 7, i sat and watched fire for 4 hours before we entered the lodge, before prayers. 16 of us in the lodge. 16, the number seven: 1+ 6. 

came out of the lodge, after the fourth round, with circles, past lives orbiting my head, and leading me close to collapse. stood and took in the cold for a while, before we migrated indoors, had a ceremonial pipe passing, and then feast. sat and looked through the feast, the people i just sweated with, with plates heaped with arugulla and avocado salad, berries, blueberry pie, bowls of stew...sat with my lemon water and breathed new breaths.

kindred who led the sweat, told me earlier, when we sat and looked at the fire, that they fasted as a rite of passage in his tribe as well. it was 4 nights and 5 days. no food. no water. then, at the end, a sweat. right, i thought. in the way of prophecy, as described by the rishis. panachakarma. ramadhan, if done properly. 

day 8 has been rest, has been in the womb, has been staying clear of crowds, and conversation. day 8 has been readings on brain health, on linoic acid, and glutathione, and active properites in blue berries. day 8 has been reading on the cure to cancer as described by dr. huda clarke. 

ramadhan: day xiii: destroyed

day iii of liquids only - lemon water, w/maple syrup, herbal teas. 

this morning i woke up on the moon, losing gravity, growing closer to my bones, which have emaciated into hair follicles, on my already petite frame...

weak, i spun, focusing on maintaining balance in the ultra-restorative sequence of asanas...barely able to sit straight during meditation. 

fading, i tried to recall what the purpose of this liquid portion was, why i was doing it. 

fasting leaves the body starved, forced to default on itself, to consume what is extra and release. the body begins to consume itself...destruction.

the idea of the fast is to destroy to rebuild. to let go of everything you thought you were, everything that you thought you needed, to let go of all attachments.

the last things i'm thinking about in this debilitated stage is sex, is hollering, is checking someone out. the last things i'm thinking about is doing a million things, is hanging out and chopping it up, is talking ish no reason, cause it's fun.

the last things i'm thinking about is getting pissed, is wanting to engage in an argument, even when it comes my way, is getting too emotional about anything.

the last thing i'm thinking about is raising my voice, is speeding, moving too much

the liquid fast, the complete abstinence from any food is humbling beyond words. 

sometimes, during rawfoodism, during veganism, i would think of all the foods i'm missing out and crave. today, i feel the plentifulness of the vegan diet, of just how many options there are - cashews, walnuts, almonds, peanuts, coconut, greens, veggies, fruits, rice and dhal, and stir fry, and much much more...

walking and talking light. moving like fall leaves from an oak. pain appears here and there. the body is detoxing, releasing, letting go of itself.

this  morning, i awoke from a dream, from a sign: i was coming home, what i've known as home most of this lifetime, my parents neighborhood. walked down the stairs from the train station. midnight. only people out were these dudes, early-mid 20's. they were standing around, waiting. for what. there were green and yellow cabs going by, the night bright from the 24 hour bodega and supermarket, and everything never sleeping. 

come over here, one of them said. he was honey and cinnamon, my complexion, with a barrel chest, and a few inches on me. we were inches from one another. he nodded - what do you have? he asked, without words, in the way language transpires in dreams. 

i looked at him, looked at them, the dozen of young and purpose-less. noticed at that moment that i was wearing my shawl, that i probably looked weird to them, not like them, not down. placed my hands together in namaste, pressed the namaste against my forehead.

all praise is due, i said, my namaste still on my head, our eyes delved into each other. 

yeah, he nodded. he's cool, he said to the others. peace man.

woke up. what's the sign? 

was telling a friend about it. thought out loud. getting weaker in physical self, in being able to default on physical means of engagement. am left with only spirit, only soul. all of us have this, however deep it is buried. Soul recognize Soul. Real recognize Real. 

ramadhan 2015: day v: kichoree

bismillah.

one meal a day. at sun down. kichoree.

hours before the sun sinks, i prepare kichoree. kichoree is an ancient recipe that is used in ayurveda as part of the panchakarma treatment. my mom used to make kichoree when we were sick.

my mom makes it with ancient hands and ancient ways, unassuming - sari, shawl, nose ring, smile, squatting when preparing a meal, cuss-less, bangla like the ganges - without making it a statement, without reclaiming something lost. 

ammu never lost it, even when stares of others, of white, and black, and brown, and yellow people in 80's nyc stared her down like she was a ufo. 

ammu is a ufo. she is the same ufo that kehemets tuned in to via pyramids aligned with osiris.

kichoree is rice and lentils and spices and some veggies, all cooked together, until porridge.

kichoree is good for you. like prayer, and fasting. asked my mom why she fasts, a tinge of arrogance in the intention of my question, like she was blindly hugging something without knowing, cause of tradition and being unread, and opium of the masses. ammu says because it is law, because it was written.

kichoree and path of surrender (islam) = timeless laws.

you may cringe at the sound of scripture, and if you live anywhere in the western world - to qur'an. you may have an eyebrow up to the laws, rules, like me. like i used to. until i looked at the sky and spent time by the ocean, and meditated in the forest, and did a headstand on the zenith of the hudson valley. 

look up. day or night. if it's dark, look for the moon. do this for 28 days. do it for another 28. do it for another day. waniing, waxing, quarter, half, full. 

there are laws, the sun and moon and earth and rivers are tuned in. it's math. pythagorean theory, pi, aristotlean law...

kichoree is used for a period of time for its homogeneity, for its bolus, digested consistency. kichoree is used in panchakarma to prepare the body for detox. 

i'm preparing for liquids only...

ramadhan 2015: day iv: which wolf will you feed?

in the name of the Essence, in the name of You. prayers for you. prayers for your family, for your struggle. prayers for the struggle. all praise is due for the struggle, keeps us humble, on the move, aspiring...

remember your dreams are your only schemes, so keep on reaching...(curtis mayfield)

the lesson for day iv, was energy, was what we choose to give energy to. that, is what i choose to give energy to. 

found myself surfing the net, surfing haphazardly, randomly, in hyperspeed - went from checking out short films, to reading up on this ancient yogic text that ashtanga is based on, to listening to qur'an to youtubing arthritis...whoa...like whoa...slow down homie...

read this native american (without a reference to a specific nation/tribe) anecdotal lesson in this book i'm reading on the brain. it's an anecdote i've come across before. 

a boy queries his grandpa about this dream he had. in the dream the boy sees two wolves. one wolf is full of violence and lust and greed. the other wolf is full of compassion, and humility, and kindness. 

which wolf will dominate? the boy asks.

whichever wolf you choose to feed, the grandpa responds. 

deep. truth. you become what you put life energy into. 

if i'm laying around surfing the net, reading up on herbalism and wikipedia's on various celebrities, and reading how to this and how to that, then i give energy to not doing, to just thinking and watching and reading about it. i give energy to being a voyeur. 

if i spend time with the herbs, making teas, tinctures, soups, poultices, liniments, oils, using them in massage and observing the impacts on myself and others, i am being/giving energy to medicine man, hakeem. i am doing about it.

my folks and i been looking at houses in real estate mags and online for the past 20. houses we were looking at 20 years ago, quadrupled in price. we even went out and checked a few out. we gave energy to pipe-dreaming, to being careful, so cautious that we don't move, that we avoid falling, taking risks, and being okay with outcomes, to learning from the doing. 

when i am spending my time in front of a mirror for an hour a day, like i used to another lifetime ago, checking out my gear and how fly i look in it, then i give energy to being a poser, to being halloween, a costume for the great theatre of babylon. 

what i give energy to that i feel good about is asana practice, is writing, is prayer, is walks, is education, hanging with family and friends.

 

all these areas could be delved much deeper. i've had a tendency of flattening out at mediocrity, like as soon as i learned to walk, after the crawl stage, i was cool. stopped working on my walk. now  i'm laterally deviated like a ballerina, and for any ballerina's out there, ballet training makes yoga a deep challenge.

if your spending time snacking all the time, then you are feeding the wolf that then grows addicted to snacking. if you are cussing all the time, then you are feeding the wolf that cusses and disrespects. 

which wolf do you want to feed? 

i want to feed the wolf that is fearless in Purposeful doing, that is the evergrowing hakeem, always pushing limits in this path, by growing deeper in this path, by being fearless and putting myself out there, and taking risks, and being vulnerable, and allowing myself to fall, and keep on reaching...

ramadhan 2015: day iii: recipe for practice

la illaha illala. ramadhan. in Surrender to the Essence by way of submitting my senses, and accepting there is no one but One. 

my boy kris, asked me if i could guide him through this fast. 

i was chilling in fast, high in convo with the trees outside the window of our class, when kris rolled up on me. 

i'm going start fasting with you come monday, he said. one meal a day. how long is it for? 

30 days i said. 

i'll do it with you the whole time. should i start tomorrow?

 

start monday, i said. you need to preapre. i'll come up with some suggestions for doing so. 

kris and i've been banging for the past few. he's calm, patient, humble, and giving. this may be my gravitation towards him, he reminds me of home - my folks and their ways. he digs my lifestyle - diet, yoga, prayer, worship through mindfulness in Air Land Liquid Atmosphere Heat = ALLAH = 5 = 1 = 0.

figured I'd post the suggestions. figured it might be helpful for others as well, to practice the deeper dimension of this month. 

suggestions for practice of fasting based on the path of Surrender to the Source of Peace (Islam):

1. prepare your body, by training your mind to move from Spirit vs senses. how?

a. mindful meditation, 5 minutes a day. during this time: 

    -find a place to sit, alone. 

    -close your eyes.  

     -breath deep; long inhalations, long exhalations. 

     -once your breath has deepened, watch your thoughts. how?

                -to do this, step outside yourself by looking at yourself from the third person, i.e., kris is         

                  thinking about a twix bar, and having bufallo chicken wings with barbecue sauce

                  dripping from it. kris is now thinking about all the bills he has to pay, and how there is a

                  deadline for a paper, and about... just watch your thoughts. notice. that's all. 

b1. pray. 

     -pray by going from standing to bowing your head down on the ground. 

     -spend time in the bowing. keep your head down for a while.

     -sit up, and bow again. 

     -stand up again. 

     -do this twice. 

     -after the second time, turn your head east and then west, saying peace over each shoulder. 

     -once you are surrounded in peace, and have humbled yourself, then place your hand in 

      beggars position. 

     -now pray. pray for those you love, those who have hurt you, for yourself. pray by asking. 

     -to begin with, pray 2 times a day: once before the sun comes up & just as the sun is coming

      down. 

b2. pray before eating.

      -pause before your meal. 

      -close your eyes. 

      -center by recalling the last time you ate and the time before that. in doing so, remind yourself

       that this is just a moment, and like all moments, will pass. 

      -now, think about the origin of the food, what was involved in bringing this food into existence,

        i.e, rice with lentils and carrots - these ingredients came from the earth, the soil, which was 

        fed by the sun, and nourished by the water and air. These ingredients were raised by farmers 

        who helped give them birth and bring them into the world. They were cooked by my mother 

        with love. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 

c. diet. 

    -take out meat. 

    -take out one meal. 

    -increase water, herbal teas, lemon water. 

d. keep a journal. 

    -5 minutes a day: write about all the things you found yourself desiring that day, 

      i.e. today i kept thinking about the all you can eat crab and shrimp and pasta special at red 

      lobster, i found myself wanting to goto the supermarket and get a bunch of trail mixes and 

      granola and chocolate and ice cream n ground beef, n chicken wings. i found that i wanted to 

      smack kay for being so negative and trying to play me by saying that i was selfish for taking a 

      call, after we'd spent an hour talking about nothing. today i found myself talking when i didn't 

      need to and engaging in superficial conversation.  i felt real sad, when i thought about my 

      mom. today i wanted to buy the new nikes everyone is rocking, especially when i saw how 

      millie was check out ali when he walked in with his new kicks. 

E. hygiene. 

    -take time to groom, keeping clean. 

F. walk light. 

    -take only what you need and not more. 

    -this will help you be mindful of the elements, I.e., how long does it take you to get clean in the 

     shower? 2 minutes? then turn off the water after this. water is sacred and scarce. how much do 

     you need to drive? 1 hour going, 1 hour coming. cool. avoid deviations that may mean burning 

     more gas, causing air to be more polluted. air is sacred. etc. etc.

this is a good start. holler if you have any qts... 

ramadhan 2015: day ii

aduzubillahe minash shaitauner rajeem

day 1 was liquids and 1 meal, after sundown. the meal was kichoree - ancient recipe from moms and nani, verifed years later in my studies in ayurvedic panchakarma - detoxification. 

kichoree is a porrdige of rice and lentils with the option to add some veggies, like carrots, potatoes. 

what was revealed yesterday/early this morning, shortly after midnight, was the existence of the devil.

again, i believe in science. so, the idea of angels and a devil haven't fully registered. 

heard that there is a devil. shaiitan. heard that he whispers, that he lures. didn't get this. had an image of a dude with a fork and horns. the same dude from the bible and torah, the one who makes appearances in warner bros cartoons and in movies...

one of my homies recently asked me if i ever hear other voices. asked me if it might've been other voices that lead him to make a poor life decision in his relation with his fiance. i've assoicated other voice with the crazed, those in asylums, screaming out bars at someone telling them something.

the voice came late, and usually would've passed as my own - except yogum - asana, veganism, liquids, except ramadhan from the ancient math.

i was getting hot, parts of me pulsing. thought about this shorty, about hollering. grew in heat. mouth watering. that's when i heard.

have to pause about the pause to give some context to what i'm about to say. somehow, i was able to switch from being in the body to Witness, with facility. so the context is that, this cat i met in an  ashram in tamil nadu, was able to shift his intestines around at will. he showed me. when i asked him, he said how he'd been practicing a certain breathing technique for years, and then one day it just happened on its own. that's what happened.

the  voice i heard wasn't neccessary in words or language, like the linguistics of dreams. lucid. it was the sense of desire, it spoke, it whispered like a hot 97 song, till my body danced in the trance of a cobra. 

witness spoke in Quiet. i see you. disappear. gone. went to sleep. rested in peace.

this morning, got a text from a woman i know. she tends to be confrontational with everyone. reminds me of guys i know who use this as a tactic in their game. so she wrote something in the negative. i didn't hear the voice this time, but my senses, my sense of self, emotion, mind - ego, began to respond, began to react, to ask why are you always so negative? or, is that your game? or, i'm sorry i'm not into you. then it occured to me. i was giving energy to the very thing ramadhan trains us to be mindful of, to Witness - nafs, senses, ego. 

watch your ego, and watch the voices that come in the form of yourself, and often in the form of those you are around. the devil's voice whispers through many sources. just listen. just watch. and let go. if its from others, more often than not, their self-hate, misery, undealt with hurt/past, grows consumed by the emotional sense of ego, till their voice becomes indistinguishable from the devil frequency. 

avoid the dance with the devil. as harsh as the words may sound from someone deriding your sense of self, let go. you are more than your base self, more than this sense of self, this ego. let go, smile from inside, and pray. 

ramadhan 2015: day 1

all praise is due. lessons. lessons revealing themselves like all praise is due. a lesson occured this morning...

...days before ramadhan i knew i would fast, i didn't know how. i've been listening to mantras and recitations, and praying and not much else. like it would just happen. things just happen in my life, due to a lack of planning and they leave me often in the hands of circumstance.

...yesterday i spent time in the sacred movements of yoga at the shala i've been devoting a day a week  to teaching in. for free. it feeels right. after, i figured i'd go find a muslim space to bring in ramadhan with. to get soe clarity, purpose on why this month.

i forget sometimes, i forget why this month. i never really got it when i was young. it was the period of daytime starving and evening feasting. the feasting part was fun, great, viscerally gratifying. fulfilled the lust of all the daytime suppressions/repressions.

so i left. things need to make sense for me. i'm not into blind faith. i''m sure there is truth to santa claus in the north pole with all his little happy elves, who merrily work in a factory working non-stop for 11 months a year to bring kids gifts down their chimney. it's a storyline. that's cool. 

placebo effect is important. it helps. if believing a man came to earth from a distant solar system to save man for their wrongdoings, and he is from a planet called heaven, and everyone who is good can join him there....cool. cooll. if it keeps you grounded and helps you stay focused and positive, cool.

i've always a been a bit more skeptical. i guess that stems from this manifestation of being into a brown thrid world body descended from an over-populated flies and diseased country in a immigrant and white and black and brown america at war with each other. my critical eyes may stem from seeing the victims of war and systemic violence from police, military, etc, be somehow portrayed as the criminals and terrorizers. 

i learned the math of manipulation early. somehow the people's whose lands were stolen, who were kicked out and made into refugees...somehow the poorest people were of lands that held spices and ancient sciences that were highly sought after...somehow the people with whose complexions had natural protections against harsh solar conditions...somehow those abducted from home, placed into chains, wrapped into concentration camps called proejcts...somehow...were the crazy, lazy, savage, ugly, terrorists...

i did the math. didn't add up. have you done the math? so relgious storylines didn't always add up either. so, i left religion. i came to islam from 12 years of doing math. i understand why it has to be crucified. 

even still, what i do has to make sense. i'm still putting together equations, doing math, and when i get the answers checked against the answer sheet of the universe, i go forward with it. 

so, the lesson that occurred to me this morning, after a night of reflection on how do i go from eating when i want, how i want, having cups of coffee...to not eating from sun up to sun down, during 18 hour daylight. thenn it made me think about sex, and not engaging in sexual activity and this lead me to the senses.

what this thinking brought me to is that ramadhan is an exercise in detaching from the senses. ramadhan is a deep meditation that requires you to observe the senses and how they lie, and how they want, and how just as you, by default, train your senses to want (i.e. coffee, donuts, smoothies, salads with walnuts and goatcheese, etc), you can condition and retrain your body by operating from a place of Soul. 

what occurred to me is that the practice of ramadhan applies to all areas of senses. for instance, the lust of the tongue to speak, to make a point, the desire of the ears to be constantly surrounded by sound and music, etc. 

so, how do we go from being addicted to senses and operating from senses to this abrupt engagement in such a profound meditation? 

well, you can practice the way i did, and my brothers and many others we knew - starve for 12-15, and then oink out, chow down, mmmm mmmm...

you can practice resentfully, which i did also. this is some b.s, i'd think. i'm from a population of underclass, and if ramadhan is for the haves to empathize with the have nots, then i didn't get why i had to. but when i realized how there were vast populations that were really hungry and how privileged i was and all, i didn't get how or why the poor, the real poor, had to do ramadhan. 

what i came up with is this. ramadhan is possible, only if there is preparation. the preperation, as i learned from doing other fasts outside ramadhan, like juice and water fasts, requires a transtioning into, requires a gradual process. steamed foods 1 week, raw foods another week, smoothies and juices, another week, just juices another week, water for a few days or a week or more. then transition out.

so to abstain, to grow into this profound meditiation of seemingly having nothing (in the sensory sense) requires a great deal of transitioning into. in fact, it arguably may require the rest of the year to prepare - 1 part to transition into, and the other part, to come out of.

even with a vegan diet/lifestyle, even with regular practices of ashtanga - yama, niyama, asana, dhyna - even with all this, i am nowhere near prepared to participate in the way i need to. 

so my advice to self is transition. take out foods gradually. for me, it could be lessning the number of meals i have a day, then taking out cooked foods, then solid foods, then pulverized foods, then juices, then, even water - from sun up to sun down. 

ramadhan: day after

been avoiding the news, the same news i glued to for information, as a child, on happenings in the world, whose fiction i spat with fan loyalty like wwf fans cheered on by the urgent vocals of the sports-casters.

babylon.

began to watch it to watch them, the rulers of our universe, the ones who dress themselves as sheep and stitch wolves clothing on those they anhillate, whose countries they rape, whose lands they steal with cold steel pressed on the backs of men with beards, women with covering. wolves who occupy the highest positions of power both in the financial capitals of the western world and in the print, visual, audio media that governs your tastes, excitement, incitement into saying- bomb those terrorists. into us in the privileged realm to dissect the victim, get into their pathologies, into how they could be tossing molotovs and homemade rockets at the poor nuclear apartheid holocaustic state, whose name was stolen from the bible and old-testament.

even the left who beef with each other on a word in a manifesto, who come to blows for less, nod their head in judgement on the desperate self- defenses of a people who live in a permanent refugee status, in what desmond tutu termed as worst than any apartheid he'd seen in south africa.

at best we might say free the occupied territory, but may not recall that this country with the star of david, was only fabricated 70 years ago by way of some of the most heinous acts of colonialism, which replicates to a T, its brother nation, in the manifest destiny that began here on the shores of north america 4 centuries ago. from a religiously persecuted people to jamestown, smallpox, genocide, slavery...and a steady media campaign to remind u of the savagery of the headhunting godless natives.

your average right wing historian will acknowledge that america is stolen land. not, the hopi or navajo or shoshone...reservation, as occupied. but somehow we can't make that connection about what was palestine. lets just talk about the gaza-rez that's being gassed with cyanide, hailed with bombs. hell, india, with all its issues with pakistan, refused to recognize israel as a legitimate country till the 90's, when it opened its shores to neo-liberalism and gave up on the movement it began against british colonialism 50 years prior.

is history repeating itself? not to liberal historians and academics who are stuck in romanticizing the defeated natives and how great they were. the defeated shifts, goes beyond color. we have more of an equal opportunity for cracking the whip so long as we bind to the ideology of the them, the new savage, which alleviates you from that title. whew!

the truth is most of us know/see that the wolf has no clothes, the babylon king never does ( i see you obama). but we're too scared to say anything. rightfully so. leonard jeffries a professor at city college back in the day, blasted white people, harangued the chinese merchants in africa, thrashed the arab slave trades, but the second he said something about zionism, he lost his job. deep.

you could talk about white people, about the crackerism of american history, but don't mention the zionist-persuasion of anything...you will lose your political position, academic position, your life. gotti had nothing on the mafia that controls america.

watch your neck kid!

ramadhan 2014: number 5: leaders

the rabbi, at the interfaith dinner, blasted hamas, said they were at fault for the death of the palestinian children, said they were the reason for the crisis in gaza, said once they stopped terrorizing the poor israelis, then peace would be possible. imam shamsi ali nodded along, agreed, even added how palestinians were at fault. his addendums were those that zionist liberals echo - both sides, the arab countries, patholgical arabs.

deep, i thought. wondered, what was the intention of this rabbi n imam in this high-profile interfaith dinner. wondered if the rabbi didn't know about how the secular plo and pflp (way before hamas was a thought), were massacred en masse by the idf. wondered if he didn't know that israel was constructed in very much the same way america was - manifest destiny - kill the savage - take the land. hence reservations, hence refugee camps. wondered if he thought people didn't know about zionism running the show, almost everything we see, hear...a million things. but he must've, he was old enough, in his 60's atleast. deep. real deep. if he knew n he was saying what he was saying.

wondered about the indonesian imam, wondered when he became an authority on speaking of/for a people and a struggle. wondered if he thought it was important to atleast read on the topic, on the history, or if his reading the Qur'an was enough for him to pass judgement on a region he wasn't from. wondered about leadership.

who passes themselves off as leaders? who put them there? what are the intentions of these leaders? what struggle are people who wage peace undergoing?

gandhi was a yogi, in bhakti, in jnana, in yama/niyama. part of the path of yogi is to be impartial, to judge not, and work from a place of nonattachment, compassion and justice.

justice has always been central to the prophets, from moses and jesus to the prophet muhammad and the messengers malcolm x and gandhiji. these yogis lived nonattachment, took a stance, lived truly fearless lives in pursuit of social balance, in alignment with the Oneness.

who are your leaders? what makes them leaders. my leaders r in such a deep Quiet they are beyond the babylon frequency of z100, hot 97, summer jam, cnn, mtv, bet, nbc... they are beyond this dimension, uncaptureable, immune to 70mm lenses and fbi cia.

all praise is due to the leaders, the silent ones, whose intentions are clear as lake tahoe, as the nyc skyline without buildings and smog. 

ramadhan 2014: number 4: lover

days are numbers. islamic numerology is laid out by the Grand Reader. decks of cards stacked as mountains. the stars carry answers for those who think. according to the Qur'an, thought, critical, creative, left and right hemispheres, must be engaged to see what is possible.

what is possible is seemingly impossible, head on ground, feet in the sky, legs behind neck. foot jabbed into thigh, hands in salutations to the Essence. all praise is due. all praise is always due. hence the path of yogum.

yoga stills the body into a deeper awareness of capacity, of alignment with ALLAH, with connectivity with sun moon planets galaxies. connection. connect with You. yoga is silent meditations, detachment from this body. om.

Ooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

vedic language bleeds into Qur'an. truth is truth, is past the great illusion - shaitan - nafs - ego.

i Am a Lover. fall in love daily, with the ascenders, those who fly, take flight. melt in their eyes as they live beyond status and professions. take hold of their hand, even as they shudder about a breeze they recalled from a walk along riverside park. fall into their story and walk. jesus walks with us. the guru muhammad Guides.

i Am a Lover, without a border, this skin can hardly hold me, growing past head and shoulder stand. i Am feared by those who look for lines written by successful authors of how-to's, who regurgitate the nihilsim of meek mills and frenchie and rick ross and bop their heads to rikers frequencies. i escaped sing-sing and have run away with the beggars bowl to grow, to grow. i can only grow from You. what do you have to say?

i Love with tears, until we are both crying, until the ocean we lay by envelopes us in a kiss of drown before we resurge and recall breath. ahhhhhh. alll praise is due. alive. another moment to get deeper in this fast, beyond eyes, beyond bones and organ systems.

these words are un-packageable. no product here. no hits. no clever rhyme schemes that mangle eminem. no formulas of exposition, conflict, rising action.... climax with You. hold You in my arms. and then i move on. find You everywhere. Lover. Love. 

ramadhan 2014: day 3: lines

errands ran me from one line to another. been trying to circle around the lines, but people kept telling me to get back, to stay in line.

the guru muhammad prescribed salat, ramadhan, dikr, quietness. but there were no lines, at least not like the sky scraping city bank building in l.i.c, queens, not lines like the sidewalks and welfare and medicaid and kendrik lamar concerts.

lines like geometrics encircle the path of submission (islam), of hands up head down. lines as circular as the moon and the lunar calendar that men with beards spot like the three kings before determining the month of fasting has arrived.

the surrender (islam) is from understanding that the choppers with the spots shining down after the heist, the sirens and blue and red lights, and blue men with .9mm's are maya, are there for the banks and the individuals with property deeply invested in the ism of being separate from their fellow man, beings.

their lines are maya, i could hear the guru isa whisper. their lines are yours and mines. we are the lines. we are individuals in containers of spaces called apartments and houses and possible waves at neighbors, possible nots. we are the lines - mine not yours, here's my number to prove it, called it, did your phone ring? no. mine did. my money, my women, my levis and nikes, and time. all mine.

stopped by the thrift shop in between babylon doctors who clocked me at 98.5 seconds, smiled plastic and ghost like the ones my great dada would capture in bottles in our ancestral village, which has over time become for me elijah muhammad's africa, sun ra's mars, the beatle's yesterday.

got some slacks to cut into long shorts for the heat, for the line where temperature meets modesty, an idea that is as clear as yin is to yang, where tall is 5'2 and short below 4'6. the yang changes when moving to masai land, to germany, where short is below 5'10.

modesty is a line like a circle with the night on one side and the day on the other. 

ramadhan 2014: day 2: daydream

slept at 6am. woke at 7 and fell into a daydream.

in the train, we whirled oms all the way to grandcentral, where i stood in warrior 3 for seconds n watched queen watch the sun rise in the vast underground. an attempt to make sense of am and pm and people in between.

attempted to make sense of what happened to istanbul iftar on queens blvd with bro n friends n queen. where did they all go? wondered if the rest of ramadhan would be the usual sense of non-community, of the ny i've always known - teeming with people going somewhere for something and ghost. the ghosts hang around for days after a convo and then become a quote... 

confused by the absence of everyone, i longed for a muslim partner to transverse secret ramadhan wonderlands, and finding no such community at the cvs in sunnyside, i rushed home for meaning. 

maha mahirishi yogi by way of youtube, gave me the antidote for success...transcendental meditation. i'm not sure exactly what he said anymore, but it made a lot of sense, and i was probably too busy wondering if he was really levitating on the river behind him when the cameras were off or was he swinging the yoga groupie circuit. i wouldn't be mad at him either way.

i was just dreaming and wondering if he was really there when i was standing on the concrete park with the dip bars next to the river he was being filmed at, by gigantic robots who carried him to osiris. yeah...osiris, 10,000 moons ago, which was all piled up and laid flat like a futon for me to sleep on for hours until it was time to leave.

sabhia was getting back and i needed to do something with my life, so i did what i knew best - hopped on the train and surfed for meaning...found it in the break fast with the fam...

ramadhan 2014: day 1: post-bottom

fasting from anything that walks, crawls, slithers, flies, swims. even honey...

vegan ramadhan - reminder of why i'm doing this...

this ramadhan is dedicated to all kindred species and their ancestors, and the water that spills, that leaves me parched and casting libations for all the extinguished smiling giraffes and mexican grizzlies and american giant beavers and extinguished beings...tears, prayers and meditations.

 saturday, i said no to the chicken. gave the bhaklava at the turkish iftar to the hijabi mother, who like my amma, gladly accepted, saying she'd give it to her son. we all gave her our bhaklava, my brother, his homies n queen.

queen came on the whim, rearranged time to leave the mountains n find me. i was with a client, finding pressure points on his back, readjusting his kapha by pressing on his lung meridian and hanging around long enough to listen to a past. ayurveda spoke sanskrit gibberish. tones i regurgitated while my client lay facing the earth 7 stories above...

queen heard, recited at grand central while she waited for me to call back: om tryambakum ye jamahe sugandim pushti vardanam...

i kept repeating the 8-syllable words till maha marishi yogi spoke to me, said the words in sanskrit were unimportant, knowing them will only have you contemplating information. it's the music, the vibration that's important, he said, to a harvard audience, in the ghost of malcolm's debate there a few years earlier, when ammu was reciting Qur'an. she still does, not knowing more than the meaning of a few words. she sways when she recites and i turn off pandora's box of babylon tunes to listen, to fall into a spell, like the breeze that carried queen n i that night into a cafe.

queen got coffee with chocolate, i mmmd and just stuck to the black drip in americana. queen shared chapters from her life, i listened, and added on, collaborating on re-making history as it never happened.

saturday was community, brother, bro's homies, queen, the outdoor ottoman break fast, a sense of union with others in this path of submission, of placing my hands in the air and bowing down...all praise is due.

ramadhan 2014: fasting: dawn to day 1

pre-ramadhan was me n step, or rather step n i, chilling in step's stomping ground, jimmy's in the upper west. something told me not to go...but i had to...step was leaving town n i needed to meet my end...

by the time i reached the half full half empty mark of the glass of sierra nevada, step downed 4 of something, crushing the cans with his large gavel fists as he mapped out his future in central america, south america, back here, or up to d.c. in a couple..with money, loads of it, he told me in a single sentence that ran like a bankrobber with two bags of cash with trailing benjamins cruising the lower east.

"i wanna be rich," step said, standing beside the outdoor sitting area we dreamt at, taking his third cigarette break.

"i feel u," i said, before i joined him, drained hot sauce, birds n beer with 3 puffs, before my back slouched in the foldout chair and ny's somethings-gonna-happen gripped me by the throat. i let it slice me. deep enough to shed.

bottomed out. shed myself with step. gave him my skin and down-ness and habits that were never mine to bury south of border, when he asked about tomorrow, what i was doing.

"ramadhan" i said. "ramadhan is arriving like the moon you pointed out 2 weeks back." the moon step pointed out, smack mid walk back to his place, smack me into his tall back, was encircled by obama-drones.

the moon, the obama-drones pointed at like wild west gunmen on the loose, shone oblivious like it always did, in deep meditation.

iraq is a wrap, afghanistan, a wrap, native america, a wrap, palestine, a wrap, australia, a wrap...time to stick up the moon, find a man on mars to demonize, some women out there to say are oppressed by the hazy brown colors that demon mars-man is subjecting them to. we have no choice but to intervene, go out there, settle, become president, rave about a bangladeshi president in mars...how far we've come...

i went far enough that night to land in starbuks with a cup of black coffee and something to write on. i tapdanced on the keyboard until my guts came out and so did my intentions for the month of purge, of cleansing, as prescribed by the guru muhammad...

grow deeper in this path of yogum, yuj, unity, in yama and niyama, no harm, no consumption of flesh or animal products, byproducts...grow deeper in asana, in slow movement, longer than the oddyssey and illiad, longer than the space between the himalaya and i.

wana grow deeper, in dhyna, in my walk and talks and all praise is due...not everything needs to be said...all praise for this opp...

day 28, 29: hindsight

the last two days of water, liquids - rasa.

i'm writing in hindsight. the fast of december has become a past. u can read about it, except i didn't really write much about the process, about the preparations and lack thereof. none of the back logs may serve the technical needs of someone interested in doing a fast. 3 decades into fasting, over 1 decade of spiritual/physical cleanses outside the realms of religious prescriptions, yet, i have little advice to offer. i can point you to people who know.

my brother's name translates to "one who knows". our last name is a variation on the Supreme, the One, ALLAH. my brother has worn his name before he ever entered his skin. he knows about fasting. ask him if you ever get a chance. he knows because his feet float in the sky, his head holds solar systems and pyramids in adjoining galaxies that egypt and tikal communicated with millenia ago. he knows because he is Quiet, no quotes in the how-to section of bnn. no books out. the trees are just too sacred. a branch cut might break his heart.

i go to my brother for advice on fasting, even though he hasn't fasted the way i have. i would go to him to learn how to snowboard on a cardboard box on the hills of washington heights. i would go to him about walking on fire-escapes to the sky. i wouldn't go to him about clocks. his language skills fall short there.

the last two days of the fast was a cesaria evora song that made sense. it made sense that it had to end, that i had to not just eat but work diligently for conclusion, to ensure detoxification happened in alignment with a plan, with a vision.

in hindsight i would make a map of the month, i would have my brother and the few others of the 144,000 of the world who reside here, in jungle city, and bang on a jesus path, over for supper. i would ask them for guidance. i did it alone. i reinforced the do you. i did me.

the only thing i would tell you, that i would advise, if you were interested in knowing, if you are considering any advice on doing a fast, is to be Quiet. spend some time in Quiet, a half, an hour, a day. do this for 30 days before you begin the fast. and when you begin, maintain your Silence. Real will recognize you. Real will see you from miles away, on the jersey side of things, on the pluto side of space. Real will pave your Path. 

day 26: signs

sometimes, days skip a beat like men in love with the queens chick in the underwater ashram where everyone gathers in satsang and pulls songs from ganesh's vast volumes of lyrics he wrote on the n train, in between past and future lives.

day 26 was two days after christmas, on the 27th, 26 days after the new moon, just as the 9th month, ramadhan, never stays fixed, due to the prostration of muslims (ones who submit - islam- to the Oneness) to the signs described in the qur'an, for man to live by - the moon, the planets and the stars.

the signs have led this fast to be on the edge of the cliff of winter, the most festive of all months, when food becomes plentiful and holiday parties abound. i did not choose this lunar month to fast, to detox, but my indolence grew in me a hunch back and arms dragging asphalt till i was crawling, on fours.

and the signs say: stop, walk, men at work, fulsom prison this way, welcome to queens.

as a shorty, my sight was poor, more short changed than my pops for rent, then my moms for dreams. i missed all the signs, and watched kids plot futures, schools and professions while i looked at the motion of their cheeks, the blink of their eyes, how many times in a minute, the cute gesticulations of their arms that almost fit the rhythm of their flapping mouths. years passed and i wrote it all down. then i started meeting random people, people who would pass on a message, sometimes in a whisper, and keep on, as if they were rebels of a rebel army, relaying the word of the movement and being spotted could get them life. i didn't know what to do with these situations until they piled like the unread books in my room.

i'm seeing signs now, like the roach that just crawled up the wall in front of me, means i gotta clean this room thoroughly before families of them come out in broad daylight with a picnic cloth and suck their teeth at me. i'm also reading signs in others, about their bodies, their health, imbalance and how it fits into the theory that is the fabric of life - Air Land Liquid Atmosphere Heat.