march has been hugging onto february in new york, refusing to part with snow and negative degrees, even as the earth tilts on its axis, a bit further from our star. the orbit continues. the moon comes to complete submission in 28 days since the last...the laws...the signs for those who think, according to the Qur'an...
lettiing go...letting go of what serves the spectacle i stand in front of and watch, even as i listen to tryamabakum and repeat the mantra - om tryambakum yejamahe sugandim pushti... the spectacle is alluring, draws spectators in like a moth, onlookers like myself 20 years back, running to see the fight that sprang off on the other side of the cafeteria...fists, thumps, f him up, f him, yeah, haha...the crowd swells...central park summerstage...
concerts of idols, american and canandian and latin and european and african and asian...idols whose talents are tuned in to the energy of something deeper, sold for a taste of chocolate and wine and one-night stands, and cars and champagne to celebrate the birthday, my birthday...idols...
let go of idol worshipping some time ago, stopped looking at the stage or the magazines, details or source or alternative pubs that offer a subculture of buy buy buy...no thank u...
...keep it pushing, often alone in this walk, often on the hill overlooking the lake, freezing and bracing myself for the stroll through the illusion. i know this moment is a shower, running water, that the water runs over my head, that loses a cluster more hair since the last time i looked...
...since the last time, running water, stopped running feet to pause and bow, to maintain a deepening in my Surrender with no onlookers, done in Quiet, hidden...
...letting go, shedding addictions to safety, to security, in being under covers hoping the bogeyman will avoid this bedroom, this family, that somehow we will miss death and the bullets that spray the other familes with arabic last names...somehow, the blanket i drag over snow and trains and buses persuades me that comfort will keep me from the prison cell my cousin is rotting in, and the toxic bangla air that my foofi's blow out in their early deaths...
letting go of security by getting out of my way and letting the Light shed on those areas of fears, identifying them like the names of war criminals who are responsible for the murder, rape, and atrocities of peoples and lands and species - obama, clinton, bush and the corporate rulers they dance for.
...been dancing with the devil by shutting my ears, by keeping this blanket on, by talking spirit, by keeping silent instead of Quiet...get to the Quiet...let go...letting go...see the Light...see the flotsam and jetsam, the stash of nicotine, porn, hash, and guns...fear...let go...letting go...all praise is due...
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