HakunaMatata
Bluelighter
Sometimes the smell of sunshine eludes me. I play with my shadow and the sun as my light, holding a globe against the bare white walls. The cigarette burning gently against my fingertips in the only reminder of change. My teacher today announced that he neither likes the word Teacher nor God. Shi Fu crack him up with an evil laugh. He reminded me that flinging starfish into the ocean was a cruel and violent act, yes, even if to save them from the burning sun.
For the first time in my life I am entertaining the possibility of someday becoming a vegan. And yet it's not compassion that founds the stepping ladder of motivation. Perhaps I'll look as ****** as the pretty dancers who swear on organic vegetables.
It still smells like sunshine. It's a smell so healing and familiar that playing tug-of-war with doubts and worries easily transform into a transforming game.
I'm going to look up books on Traditional Chinese Medicine and investigate Rebrithing and Core Belief Engineering. Perhaps instant karma won't be a teasing phrase in a s song for much longer.
I long for peace and love. I long for more Bob Marleys and more Redemption Songs. I long for little kittens and little puppies- childhood joys in a world direly needing laughter and happiness. Happiness is a place within each and every beating heart. Happiness is a process. Peace is a process. Always evolving, always needing fuel and fodder. Just the act of redirecting towards something more simple, brings more peace. It is so easy to be happy sometimes. With each new breath, letting out the poisonous toxins, with each new exhalation of simply letting go -- there is so much goodness to be gained and retained.
The sweet fleeting moments of clarity giving birth to reciprocal smiles. The beauty of the wind dancing with my mood. The heavens coming down to honor the earth. John Kelley mixing, "My mother, my earth" with sweet sweet beats matching that of my pulse. There is no looking back. It's all about now. It's all about you. It's all about me. It's all about us surviving and creating as a community.
I hope everyone in my life is happy too.
_____________
Thoughts swim around like burning spears around the carousel of my memories. Glimpses of teenage scenes, filled with experiences when ways of the world were still untaught and unlearnt. All the first -- timers seemed like episodes of cheap paperbacks written by suburban housewives hoping to find a sweet escape from dreadful monotony without actually committing those acts of sin. And yet those first timers seems so passionate, so dramatic, so intense, so real and so worthy of poetry.
So many times I've overheard the words of the older people, muffled by the need to protect my innocence. Sometimes it was chuckle, often it was laughter and once in a while I caught a teardrop of an elder who remembered what it was like when they were like me.
Fallen leaves of golden friendships formed around Sunday morning coffee and the events section of eclectic community papers. I wonder if they still gather around the Formica island of the harshly renovated ancient Victorian villa kitchen.
All six of us had some coincidental things in common. We were all lost children, the black sheep of various successful professional parents. We had all been to boarding schools at some point and some designer-label university at some other point. And most of us were now working shit-jobs for shit pay in fields far away from the those carved for us by the ones before us. Idealism was such a heinous alter-reality we did not want to partake in.
Life was hard. The weeks were long. Shoveling snow each morning to make a path into the cold veins of Toronto's public transport system was yet another thorn piercing in the question deeper..."Who was right..freedom and free-thought or tried-tested-and-true tradition?" Ironically enough whenever a roommates family was visiting, I couldn't help but sigh at how similar they were to their parents and siblings. In our quest for individualism, most of us had overlooked at how much we were evolving into the elders who muffled their laughter and tears behind closed doors.
And yet overnight, nothing mattered. We were the ones with the music and the love and the ability to wear "degenerates" with pride. There was harmony in our united levels of disenchantment.
This week I'll be sending in my application at a renowned law school. Everything is coming full circle, including my most dreaded ideals. I'll have my yuppy friends who wear their silk ties in the mornings and roll on European drugs at night. I'll have my Champaign dinners and black-tie parties and if I simply keep writing, a part of me will stay connected to some perverted part of me...I hope. My dreams are now becoming that of those I hated......and yet for some yummy and delicious reason I cannot explain, I've never been happier than now, for many many nows in a row.
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Contingency Account for WritnPage during software glitches.
For the first time in my life I am entertaining the possibility of someday becoming a vegan. And yet it's not compassion that founds the stepping ladder of motivation. Perhaps I'll look as ****** as the pretty dancers who swear on organic vegetables.
It still smells like sunshine. It's a smell so healing and familiar that playing tug-of-war with doubts and worries easily transform into a transforming game.
I'm going to look up books on Traditional Chinese Medicine and investigate Rebrithing and Core Belief Engineering. Perhaps instant karma won't be a teasing phrase in a s song for much longer.
I long for peace and love. I long for more Bob Marleys and more Redemption Songs. I long for little kittens and little puppies- childhood joys in a world direly needing laughter and happiness. Happiness is a place within each and every beating heart. Happiness is a process. Peace is a process. Always evolving, always needing fuel and fodder. Just the act of redirecting towards something more simple, brings more peace. It is so easy to be happy sometimes. With each new breath, letting out the poisonous toxins, with each new exhalation of simply letting go -- there is so much goodness to be gained and retained.
The sweet fleeting moments of clarity giving birth to reciprocal smiles. The beauty of the wind dancing with my mood. The heavens coming down to honor the earth. John Kelley mixing, "My mother, my earth" with sweet sweet beats matching that of my pulse. There is no looking back. It's all about now. It's all about you. It's all about me. It's all about us surviving and creating as a community.
I hope everyone in my life is happy too.
_____________
Thoughts swim around like burning spears around the carousel of my memories. Glimpses of teenage scenes, filled with experiences when ways of the world were still untaught and unlearnt. All the first -- timers seemed like episodes of cheap paperbacks written by suburban housewives hoping to find a sweet escape from dreadful monotony without actually committing those acts of sin. And yet those first timers seems so passionate, so dramatic, so intense, so real and so worthy of poetry.
So many times I've overheard the words of the older people, muffled by the need to protect my innocence. Sometimes it was chuckle, often it was laughter and once in a while I caught a teardrop of an elder who remembered what it was like when they were like me.
Fallen leaves of golden friendships formed around Sunday morning coffee and the events section of eclectic community papers. I wonder if they still gather around the Formica island of the harshly renovated ancient Victorian villa kitchen.
All six of us had some coincidental things in common. We were all lost children, the black sheep of various successful professional parents. We had all been to boarding schools at some point and some designer-label university at some other point. And most of us were now working shit-jobs for shit pay in fields far away from the those carved for us by the ones before us. Idealism was such a heinous alter-reality we did not want to partake in.
Life was hard. The weeks were long. Shoveling snow each morning to make a path into the cold veins of Toronto's public transport system was yet another thorn piercing in the question deeper..."Who was right..freedom and free-thought or tried-tested-and-true tradition?" Ironically enough whenever a roommates family was visiting, I couldn't help but sigh at how similar they were to their parents and siblings. In our quest for individualism, most of us had overlooked at how much we were evolving into the elders who muffled their laughter and tears behind closed doors.
And yet overnight, nothing mattered. We were the ones with the music and the love and the ability to wear "degenerates" with pride. There was harmony in our united levels of disenchantment.
This week I'll be sending in my application at a renowned law school. Everything is coming full circle, including my most dreaded ideals. I'll have my yuppy friends who wear their silk ties in the mornings and roll on European drugs at night. I'll have my Champaign dinners and black-tie parties and if I simply keep writing, a part of me will stay connected to some perverted part of me...I hope. My dreams are now becoming that of those I hated......and yet for some yummy and delicious reason I cannot explain, I've never been happier than now, for many many nows in a row.
------------------
Contingency Account for WritnPage during software glitches.
