breathing

"The task of education, understood in a spiritual sense, is to bring the soul-spirit into harmony with the temporal body. Of all the relationships humans have to the physical world, the most important is breathing. " -Rudolph Stiener on Waldorf Education

It is the foundation of any spiritual based philosophy, breathing. It is the constant, vital bodily intake of the nurturing world; the very connection to life. Eating and drinking too, but they require a sense of the self, breathing is 'automatic'.

In studying fear/stress, a basic response is a swallowing of breathing which results in the "grips of fear" or the reactionary tendencies and fatigue of the over stressed. Breathing is physical as well as soulful, it s in many cases, meditative breathing is only therapy needed and a crucial element to long term health. In climbing, a night and day contrast exists between climbing with mindful breathing and typical thoughtless huffing. Thought too benefits greatly from deliberate breathing, in many cases reaching a conclusion that the subject itself is unworthy of much though if any; the present is far more deserving than the supposed details of this or that. Most things seem to be more of a distraction to living than a requisite, after some even breaths.

In writing poetry, or, prose rather, I find a purer form manifests. However, I must ask a question: In a free write, is it a main-line connection to ego, or the opposite? Does one remove the conscience from the path of the ego, allow it to run amuck and spew words of deeply rooted self satisfaction?For a long time I have thought the only way to something pure (free of the ego) was through free write; in the very moment of inspiration, like an animal, hungry for the food before him; no thought, just action.

In looking back, these products have provided the most satisfaction to me for I marvel at the tangible themes, plucked from the either. Pride kills in the mountains, and ego delivers us to the exact spot. I've never been pretentious in what I've climbed, only the manor in which I did; making my way safely, understanding the risks and being able to understand and teach the process. Writing is the opposite, I can;t Begin to say why free writing feels better and seems to yield a stronger emotional work, at least for me.

I don't know really whats to come of art, but it seems the more cerebral it becomes the better chance for corruption and coercion.

Cello Joe

Good music, if you don;t already know: http://www.soundclick.com/bands/default.cfm?bandID=180017

Fourth Amendment

"The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures"

I was not so lucky. Walking through downtown Baltimore with my guitar and djembe, both in cases, I was on my way to a gig when I was stopped by police. I'm a professional musician, meaning I get paid on occasion, to play my songs in bars and other establishments and on the night in question I was going to make $100 and get a free dinner; a good gig for a solo musician.

Much of the music I write is about this world and the way things are: irresponsible consumption, war for more, social apathy. It was no surprise a that I should be arrested for standing up for my fourth amendment right to lawful search.

I had no reason to avoid being search; wasn't drunk, stoned or in possession of anything illegal. I was well dressed and happy to be going to play music. The police yelled from their car for me to "show them my guitar". Politely and with sincerity I told them I had to get to work.

When they stopped me I told them I had done nothing wrong and I was a musician going to play a gig; in the cases were instruments. I respectfully answered all their questions: where is your gig, what time, and so on. This was not good enough. They wanted I.D. and to search my bags. Keep in mind, I was walking downthe sidewalk in broad daylight, just like you. I simply repeated myself. They became angry and said they would arrest me if I didn't cooperate. I simply said I would not resist, but I would not cooperate in the stripping of my rights guaranteed under the constitution. I was a fool.

I was put in jail for 12 hours. I was not fed and I obviously never made it to the gig, so I missed out on getting paid.

The charges were dropped, as if that is any consolation. They had no choice but to drop the charges; I had done nothing wrong.

That is the country you live in. It is not getting better, at least for the innocent.

You can blindly judge me and think I did something that warranted being put on the ground, stood on by three police, cuffed so tightly that my left thumb was numb for a week; something other than telling them I loved them but they were wrong and peacefully standing up for your and my rights. You can think that and never know me, but like those police officers, you would be wrong.

Freedom is more burdensome than any career. When is the last time you stood up for yours?

Love, good food, peace, growth

poem

trickle sunlight
grow garlic in your bathtub
Treat your neighbor to your dreams; share

You shine, dreamer
I feel your love
I feel skin to sun to mine and know:

I feel love pure
Books say sinner
but who writes books
I close my eyes
I feel you
I feel love

Tell me the color of the sun
tell me the wind blows to spin turbines:

Just to electrify your desire?

I'll laugh right in your face teller
and with a grin you might tell me to die
Wisher, gone over the top
giver, put under by greedy hands
greedy hand, holding nothing; fist
greedy fists maintain facades
material bliss quits kisses from true love:

Sorry if I love e-v-e-r-y-b-o-d-y

I'll love you to, killer creature

spell c-o-s-m-o-s
spell g-o-d
write a word in any language
But words; abstractions to steal action
and the real love becomes many distractions

I can live cosmos
and I can live god

I can love everybody

Humbly, I write poetry
call out "talkers"
put words in the wind
The seeds I sew
grow

the oceans of emotion

surfers claim connection, ride the wave purely with soul. sailors take the wind that is given and ask for nothing more, they are the founders of new worlds. Climbers leave behind any sense of safety to find a deeper sense of connection. Even on a bicycle you become the action and the distractions drip away in each drop of sweat. In the midst of all these expressions, emotions come and go. I find, when dormant, emotions tend to stick around, sometimes alittle too long.

Yoga would be the living and breathing manifestation of the the essence of these expressions. It too would provide one with the ability to be as a tree; rooted in the real earth and giving of its self to the wind and soil that is grows from. Without such a presents in one's life, adrift upon an ocean they might feel.

I have cried recently at the though of my mother's passing. And I have lied sleepless at the though of a woman. This is evidence enough, that I need a stronger connection to yoga; to living and breathing action.

I have traveled more than most in the past few years. and this in a way, deadens me to the typical enjoyments or entertainments most find satisfaction in. Boredom, as it were, is the fertile ground for innovation. I feel my soul; the fire of Aries burns hotter than before. I come full circle with a new direction, I spiral to the earth to climb again and begin a life of growing my sustenance; I create music and grow my ideas with new colors.

I planted some garlic to day in a pot. This is my purpose, now small and soon to grow to a bed; a row; and field. I suppose we are all seeds and growing is what we do best.

Peace, Love, Good food, Growth.