live more, less evil

to do less evil,
live a little more

What is the opposite of “evil”? It is not “good”.
Read “evil” backwards. Yes, anything that kills or diminishes “live, liveliness, life” is evil, anti-life by Wilhelm Reich’s term.
Evil resides everywhere including inside you and me. So if we live more or let others live more, we do less evil.
Deep negative feeling is associated with this word. But always read backwards. And remember that we don’t have to be good not to be evil. Just live, a little more!

A pair

“I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then, there’s a pair of us – don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.”

– Emily Dickinson –

I was somebody in public,
I was nobody to me.

I am nobody to public now,
I am somebody in me.

a vacation,
I don’t know where to go.
for nobody, every day is vacation
at the same place.

I lost my mother,
not outside, but inside
instead I took all mothers as my mother,
the collective motherness, I honor it.

blindfold,
I want one.
cover my eyes, I will listen to your voice, with all my senses
like a hungry dog gobbling down his kibbles.

love,
don’t tell me, I don’t believe that, or I don’t trust.
I will take kindness.
sometimes, that’s all I need, really.

who are you?
what am I?
sit down, it’s okay.
lost, unknown, I can feel your breath on my forehead.

stretch time with our hands,
stepping and treading around the land our feet are,
build a castle with a hundred windows,
the sunlight, the moon would reach to our fingertips.

air thins,
breath quiets,
sleep, in each other’s arms, it will do.
It will do.

<May 23rd, 2018>

Almost a fairy tale

“What took you so long?” She asked.
He looked at her with the eyes saying that he had no clue what she was talking about.
She stared back at him without blinking. Then, she lowered her gaze and said.
“I know. You always take time.”
When she looked up him again, he was already the past. She mumbled to herself. See? What happens when you take too much time. 

When I stop thinking about choosing the better, there is no worse choice in life…

one door closes, other doors open

letting go practice this week… as I look back, the whole thing happened to me in this life is uncanny… I don’t know how I get here, this specific place in my life.

As I’ve started to swim on my side of the ocean since this March, I feel some power lifting me up from the bottom.¬†There is a force behind me, like the wave when I surf… a little fear rises up… but don’t give up riding… just let it happen, happen for me in the way it is meant to happen… splash my feet in water… waiting…

A River

River looked at me, asked
What is your sorrow?
I looked at river, asked back
What is yours?

Breeze tousled my hair, said
Never mind, darling, never mind.
Blue birds jumped up to the sky, yelled
Don’t ask tears why it is sad.

River whispered in my ears,
Do not stay here, woman, go far, far away.
Water mumbled a few more words
Sounds washed away indistinctive gurgles.

I looked at river, asked again.
What is your story of never-ending tears?
River swayed its head and gestured to me to come closer,
Hawk shrieked dashing up to the midday sun.

When I leaned my body towards to listen,
Tall willow on the river bank shook its long head, exclaimed
Don’t go close to sorrow, woman, go far, far away.
But I already dipped my heart in the stream.

Wind blew hard, swept my feet up from the ground.
I landed somewhere far, far away.
Everything was quiet and still, nothing flowing, nothing moving,
Only water in my mind flew with sorrow, and I became a river, there.

 

<April 24th, 2018>

 

Don’t go back to sleep

“The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.”

– Rumi –

When the words ring with a heavy weight in your heart and tears rise up, you know what you have to do… the door is open, don’t go back to sleep.

April, April

“April is your month.”

She just saw a crow flying backwards. The wind is strong. The sky is clear, she dropped the mails and the pieces rolled ten yards away instantly. She had to run to retrieve them.

Opening her right palm to catch the spring rays while she is driving. Her left hand on the wheel, her right fingers greedily wide to hold more sunshine in her grasp. She knows. No avail. She can’t catch them. But this feels good. A ball of brightness rolling inside of her hand.

Wind is anxious today. Because nobody notices it unless it frantically moves around to shake things. “I’m here! I’m here!” shouting only through the things it shakes. The miserable being, the sad destiny. If it doesn’t move, it loses its existence in our sight. Somewhat like us in our modern time.

A small stream around her dog walking path gurgles again. It swallowed all melted snow and must be very happy. She feels its exhileration. Flowing and singing. It just needs some audience for its song and dance.

April had been the worst month for her, since her older brother unknown to her died in that month. She expected the dread even before the month started. Pain and sorrow under the shadow of the full life rejuvenation. However, this year is different. Her mind shifted over the years and she decided to claim this April under her own terms. She won’t accept the skeletons that her society, her culture, and her past have built for her. She won’t howl like the wind demanding the recognition of its pain and sorrow, the validation of existence. She will be gentle, or sometimes fierce, in creating the art, the art of living, now and here. She will be the creator and the creation of her only life, the harvester of sunshine of the moments. Her gathered hands over her heart… cherishing… cherishing the presence, the present, the light, and the warmth.