The other day i was gifted an experience. It was one that I would have never provided myself, or even thought to have. This concept is not new to me, and actually at one point became more of a “hold your breath and squint one eye” annoyance than a new opportunity. But with those days passed, it felt good to once again be given something I didn’t ordain…be a pon in some design of fate. It was similar to a dream. You don’t control them, but they say something for your spiritual destiny. I live for those dreamy days. I wonder how long it would have lasted if the gravitational pull of reality, habit, and a warm bed hadn’t brought me home. Probably would still be happening now. It was just a dream within a dream.
Angelique Kidjo is her name and world music is her game. I found the tickets in the parking lot of the grocery store. And just like that, I was invited into a world beat of feeling, hope, acceptance and global peace through music. And of course a brewery I’d never tasted the IPA of.
It didn’t really feel like thanksgiving. I donned my thickest socks so my feet might know how very thankful i am for them. And i hoped through means and methods that my family and friends, near and far, knew how very thankful i am for them. And i said here’s to our health. Our choice. Our being. But no. This year made me realize what constitutes the holiday and that I was missing every article…hm, not true…I was trypping on tryptophan. It was just missing those which bring some feeling, however bad, annoying, beautiful, happy, habitual or questionable. Its just a temporary amendment, anyway. And now it’s also become obvious that Christmas isn’t Christmas anymore. The mass production of unneeded goods which will just clutter and fill the earth with material that can’t break down gives me an ulcer. I was never even part of the time when getting one Christmas present was more than imaginable, but I miss it. It’s not just me getting older and seeing things I never saw. The media and advertising bombardment is at an all time high and it’s eating through the meaning like acid through flesh.
Oh what a world we live in.
Facing West from California’s shores
Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound,
I, a child, over waves, toward the house of maternity, the land of
migrations, look afar,
Look off the shores of my Western sea, the circle almost circled;
For starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere,
From Asia, from the north, from the God, the sage, and the hero,
From the south, from the flowery peninsulas and the spice islands,
Long having wandered since, round the earth having wandered
Now I face home again, very pleased and joyous,
(But where is what I started for so long ago?
And why is it yet unfound?)