...2.21.21...
...the drums pound... the guitars brush... the moment is ripe for movement... you move... one room to another... one city to another,.. one friend to another... one drink to another...
...it's smoky where you are... even though you are alkaline... even though you quote ayurveda and the egyptian book of the dead.. even though you do yoga and drink green juices... it is smoky... an inner smoke... the bar within... the one you are silently getting trashed in... thoughts... jealousy... fame... lust... self-congratulatory... branding everyone with your name... colonizing from an anti-eurocentric approach... between the thighs of prospects form nyc to charleston... from havana to dhaka...
...how are you addressing the happy hour that's going on inside...?... the bar you visit nightly... sometimes in the daytime... the one most people don't see but you...?...
...how do i know if i'm at the inner bar getting trashed, you ask...?... if your doors are closed... if separation from others is your way... if you are pinching pennies and food and things you have complaining of what you don't have... if you are holding onto grudges... to pride... to your individual grievances and in turn sense of righteousness... if you refuse to bow to the One in All... to your mother father... elders... to the trees and food that sustain you... to air and water and water life and fire life... bow down...
...the inner bar will be replaced with a juice ceremony... one in which you are in a circle in community... sharing sacred drink... drink up...
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