Music played on. . .

Global news came today. Our ride home from Vegas, we we’re listening on the Sirius radio about the President’s speech. Read it on FB post first, but then she said, that OBL is dead. Considered putting a sign on the passenger window saying OBL is dead. Wanted to honk the horn, but I wasn’t driving. Heard there was spontaneous crowds in front of the White House and Times Square. Crowd is still growing.

Looking outside the car a little after the California/ Nevada border, we saw a drive in movie theater. It was a sight to see. Movie on the big screen was Soul Surfer. Trucks kept on whizzing by so I could not get a good picture. It was a distance, but it was there. Thought for awhile these relics were expired. Then here it was. A few miles West. Movie seems fitting with the news. Surfer girl gets her arm bitten off by a shark. She loses a lot of blood, almost dies. She struggles, asks, “Why?” She gets back on the board, but falls. She gets back on, adapts the board.  She doesn’t win the contest, but realizes her bigger purpose. Eventually she becomes champ, but she won before she ever entered the contest again.

Looking back, the US inability to catch OBL was disheartening. Supposed world leader, can’t find one guy. Ridiculous. Don’t want to celebrates a terrorist’s death, giving for their martyrdom to the fallen. Can’t deny the urge, to celebrate. . .a Justice. Celebrate Retribution. Celebrate a national hurt by falling the angry man’s follies.

Commander-In-Chief, It comes with the job. Good, bad, or indifferent. A sense of continuity and stewardship. We pick up and carry. We inherit the package of others, good will and hardship. We want to realize our own goals, meet our own expectations, then realize we the task others have left. We balance and falter. We regain. We do what we can in the time and means we have. A sense of tasks undone, and we hurry and decide big things as we see the finish line of our term. Then we lay it down when our turn is done. 

Some hear the call and answer. Others choose a different way. Times, technology, and taboos closes our windows, but opens many more doors. Torn in between paradigm making and Shiva destroying, one must choose. Consequences in all things we choose and not choose. We live with them. A million mistakes we’ll make. And a million more if we are lucky.

With beckon breath we hold this relief. Waiting for the other to fall, we are cautiously optimistic. Another stark danger around the corner. An act devastating and planned. This I fear. Heard and felt it on the news and FB universe. Fear of payback. Can’t run away from it. 

We just celebrated it. A game with consequence, a game with global reverberation. We can feel it in the ripples. Its balances overhead. In the airports we visit. In the train stations we depart and return to. In the events we attend. . .a sense retribution hangs in the air. A great challenge ahead of dire consequence, where all are at risk. 

Yet, we will grow. . .fall. . .and hurt a little, but we will rise and meet the challenge. Or we will not. “It matters not how straight the gate, or punishments fill the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my . . .”

Still that moment is not here. We are in the place between dark and light. A place where feel pulled up and grounded. So here will stay. We will wait for the force to move us or until we decide to move. This Force is strong among us. Instead of running and hiding, we will smile and sigh. Take the wonders in and thank the Big Smile for all that has been given. A moment has passed. A Big Chapter has finished. We should take a moment of pause and reflect, but the cycle continues. . .it always continues. 

So let us pull the sword from the stone and meet greater dangers. With new joys in our hearts, let us smile and dance because the music continues. 

All Good Things . . .(Part 2 of 2)

Continue. . .All Good Things (1 of 2)

I was slow to warm up there and was fixing to leave. Something said, "Stay." Paid $10 bucks for parking and to leave after fifteen minutes would seem to be a waste. No teepees were around and I honestly didn’t get a feel of a Pow Wow. So I walked around again and looked at the wares the vendors were selling. Almost bought a bow and arrow. Wanted to shoot the mini crossbow. Its a bucket list thing.

There was one incident at one of the vendors that struck me. A medium height, brown haired man wearing a Boston Red Sox jacket was holding a buffalo horn he was about to buy. Then he said, “Would you trade for it? This is an Indian store. You people trade things, right?”

Didn’t know why I didn’t say anything. It shocked me I guess that someone would be so blatant—so racist—so ignorant. The vendor, Native American, was obviously taken aback. His response, “Yes, . . .er. . .I will trade it for money.”

It reminded me of a time when I was going to get in a grade school fight. One kid said, “You better not, he might know Karate.” This Boston Red Sox jacket guy was trying to make a funny, but it just got me fuming. This ass reminded me of time when people believed that the Chinese men were good at washing clothes. Domestic labor, i.e., washing clothes was held in the lowest for Chinese men during the building of the railroads. An an old Laundry Soap Television commercial had the tagline “Ancient Chinese secret.” It’s like all athletes and rappers are African American. Forget Pau Gasol, Yao Ming, Manu Ginobli, Matisyahu and Eminem.  

This exchange reminded me to be ever present to the moment. Should have lit this guy up. Moment passed and it made me think of my own ignorance, biases, and prejudices when I first walked in. Decided to stay longer and take it in. Figured that was the Universe telling to shut up and stay. Got an Indian taco and sat. Listened to music and watched more dancing.

Slowly, imperceptibly, I started feeling calmer. Started noticing little things. The singers were three and four in the group. Their songs I never understood. Couldn’t feel it though. Sensed anger. Sensed sadness. Felt Spirit. Yes, it had much Spirit.

When the drummers played, they would sing for ten and fifteen minute stints.  That is tiring. One would lose his voice and the other would pick up. They aided each other to continue. It wasn’t something understood intellectually. The words were foreign. It was touching something basic. Something, Primal. Don’t want to say it was tribal. It would be cliché. There was a Deepness in their songs.

Watching the dancers, their ages ranged. There would be a line of four by two. At first, they were women, young and old. It didn’t seem like they were dancing at all. Just tapping their feet slowly. Up and down.  It was like someone having to go to the bathroom, but with all the stalls occupied.

However, as the drummers increased the speed, the dancers' movements became more dramatic. It was slow measured at first. Then, a couple of ladies with arms straight out and the knees bent as if sitting, would circle left. Then right, and back again.It was like a slow geisha dance.

Overall, the dances reminded me of a junior high dance. At first, the ones on the dance floor can feel every eye on them so there is a much reservation. Then people from outside the arena would join slowly then quick. As the crowds grew, inhibitions would be lost in the crowd. As more people joined, it animated the dancers more. More and more people entered the Arena for all those to visitors to see. A few danced as if they were fighting. The dance would be a battle against one’s fear and personal inhibitions. It was the fighting was against some demons, personal gremlins. Drummers beat would speed and all the inhibitions would fall. The dance remained dignified, passionate.

At times, the Pow Wow leaders would have an “Honorary” Not sure of the meaning and significance, but think reception line at a military ball. Those honored would stand in the Arena. Then people would come up and shake their hand. They had an Honorary for the elders. Another for the singers. Another for a family.

Couple of times, there were calling of gifts. A ceremonial blanket would be placed and people would come up and leave a monetary token. A dollar here and there. Reminds one of collection basket in church.

It was joy that I stayed. After the ceremonial dances were over, there was the Grand Entrance to the Arena. All the people outside the arena, sitting in the canopied tents, came out in their cultural dress and walked/ danced in the Arena. It was something to see. Watching made me really glad I didn’t leave earlier.

Everyone dressed in their colorful outfits was something to see. If you ever been to the New Years parade in Pasadena, you would feel the excitement of the Grand Entry. Well, maybe, not as extravagant as the Parade floats, but it was fun nonetheless.

Not sure I will ever understand the plight of the 500 Nations have faced, but there is certain strength in spirituality that can be felt. Attending these celebrations, these festivals, these Pow Wows, one gains an understanding a respect. One realizes one’s own ignorance and prejudices. This year has been eye opening. Attended Chinese New Year, rode in CicLAvia, Whale watched at the Dana Point, Bet on horses at Santa Anita’s closing day. Drank beer at Oktoberfest. Visited a number of missions. There is so much richness out there.

We pass by all too often thinking what we get from the boob tube is enough. A glance in the newspaper, or click on the internet, can have opening new possibilities. The stuff one read in books and magazines is nice, but this only person interpretation. It is valid, but it can never replace experiencing life one self.

At times, the places we visit does not seem to hold much promise at first. We can get up and leave, but  real treasures can be missed. We need to listen to that voice in all of us and let events unfold. Don’t withdraw too quickly. Something wonderful maybe erupting and you would have missed something life changing.

Life changes happen in every minute, in every second. Slowly, the subtle beats of life quicken and we start realizing we are dancing unabashedly in the Arena. If we can only remember to live life this way, we won’t feel like we missed a thing. In the end, I believe we all would like to feel this way.

All Good Things. . .

All these nations beating as one. Their movements were slow. Reserved, at first. A light tap of the foot here and there. It was as if on the lowest setting on a stair stepper. The beat of the rhythm sped. Grew louder. Upped, the dancers’ movement became more demonstrative, more animated.

 


One man, an older white haired man, had a metal rattle. His arm movements were short, slow, measured. However, as the beat grew stronger his body became more involved. It was violent, there was anger in his movements. 

 

Heard a musician say, “After a concert, he would be exhausted.” After watching this older man, this tribal elder, dance I can see why. There was passion in his dance. Must have been in his 70’s, but his energy would match any twenty year old at a rave. You can pick him out of the crowd. He wasn’t wearing the ceremonial garb as the others. His was the more traditional “White Man” dress. He wore black slacks, leather belt, and a sweater. However, from his movements his Indian heritage was strong. White haired, with a face that would rival any Marine drill sergeant. One could not not watch him dance.

Walking in to the Pow Wow, I wasn’t really impressed. They had the obligatory vendors selling their wares like many—too many—festivals. Fox skins, buffalo horns, and hollowed tortoise shells. There were bead bracelets, bone necklaces, and wooden bows and arrows. Music CDs of Native American were on display. DVDs and books also filled up the racks.

Didn’t think much at first of the whole festival. Wasn’t really large.  It was much like one poor Renaissance Fair I attended. No teepees. Nothing of the traditional Native Indian American decoration I had expected. My mind was expecting something from the Autry Museum. Tents that people used were canopies one buys at Costco, Sam’s Club, and Big Five.

Many attendees wore jeans and heavy metal t-shirts. Young teenage kids dressed in Chollo garb. If I didn’t know otherwise, I would have thought many were from Hispanic descent. Even saw one vendor dressed up in South American Indian attire. I was ignorant and had stereotypes in mind. 

Walked a couple of times around the circle. Sat at different open places trying to get a different feel of the place.  Some wore outfits with Eagle feathers and Native American dress. A few ladies wore proudly Turquoise rings and necklaces.

Tents were arranged in a circle. They called it .  . .the  Arena. Didn’t understand at first, but the circle has great significance. It is held in esteem. It is a sacred place. In time, I learned why it was called the Arena.

Continued. . .All Good Things (2 of 2)

Made with Love. . .

Three Little Words
“Made with Love” that was what she said. A simple thing that made my Chicken Habanera Panini taste better. After staring at the menu of Camille for several minutes, I’ve tried everything before and found it a little bland and uninspiring. 

These simple three words—with a smile, of course--made my lunch memorable. Locked in on the task,  lost in the mechanism of the day, I found myself jolted. When the server brought me my food and when she said that, it got me tongue tied. How a dash of love can make the world better place. How we forget that this simple mantra can make the difference. “Made with love” A tag. This stamp. Words to live by. “Made with Love.”

What do you everyday that isn’t made with love? Lots, huh? Yesterday, I found myself at the foot at Angel’s Flight. Out the entrance of Grand Central Market, I saw what looked like a trolley. Nothing special, but it was calling me. 

Heaven On Earth
Angel’s Flight was closed down for a few years because of an accidental death, I saw somewhere that it was recently reopened. Not an incredibly long ride. Thirty seconds or so. Just a short jaunt up Bunker Hill in Downtown LA. It seemed appropriate. It was uplifting. A ride that would cost a mere quarter, it made me realize that we have a Heaven on Earth if we only put that stamp, “Made with Love” I am sure it would be even better.

Like Most Cities
You see Downtown LA, is like many metropolitan areas. It has their share of Homeless people. Saw a man, a broken man sitting on a bench across the street staring at the front of Grand Central Market. Thinking of food and shelter, I assume. He was unwashed, unshaven, un-a lot of stuff. An older man who at one time was a healthy young man. 

Fallen Heroes
Read somewhere a third of homeless people were veterans. Sad, how we let our young sons and daughters fall in disrepair? Not knowing the situation and not usually being a bleeding heart, we better all be bleeding-hearts because a too many of us could be paycheck or two away and we could find ourselves in the same predicament.

Buddha Basics
Went to Saturday morning mass at Saint Marys today.  Thought to myself, this message can’t be new. You see, I find myself exploring many religions, thinking of Faith and the Big Smile. It is our lives we make and live.

It says in the basic tenets of Buddhism, that the life we live goes through 8 stages. First two are of our past life. The last two are of our next one. The middle four is of our own doing. Makes sense to me. 

It is said we chose our parents based on the life we built before depending on the Karma we accumulated. Last two stages prepares us for the next one. Depending on how we did in the middle, we shall see what Karmic points we banked on. What choices have we made to make our stay on Gaea better?

Inside
What have we done to make this world a better place? For what is a Man that Does not make the world a better place. “You are not what you were born, but what you have it in yourself to be.”—Another quote from Kingdom of Heaven. YOU ARE NOT WHAT YOU WERE BORN, BUT WHAT YOU HAVE IT IN YOURSELF TO BE. Again, YOU ARE NOT WHAT YOU WERE BORN, BUT WHAT YOU HAVE IT YOURSELF TO BE. Guess, I write this thrice because something deep inside tells me so. I say write this down, commit it to memory, burn the paper that you wrote it down, and then burn the words to memory. Let it not to be forgotten.

What Frightens Us. . .
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. “(Another quotes from a movie, I let you guess)

Downtown Dancer
As I rode up and down Angel’s Flight I saw a lady dancing. (She is on the corner of the picture) Didn’t notice her at first. She was hidden by the overhang of blooming red flowers. She was at the base of the Bunker Hill. Off in her world. Homeless, I assume by the unwashed, stained clothes she wore. Form fitting, she went through a dance warm up. She danced a refrained flirtatious dance. Not pole-dancing, but it would not surprise me if she had been a exotic dancer. There’s no doubt that she had some ballet and jazz training. A friend of mine was a dancer and the way she moved reminded me of her.

Felt a little sad, for the homeless, “down-on-her-luck” dancer. Yet, not so much. She was doing her thing in this little spot of the world. Perhaps, she suffered the evils of a drug lifestyle? Perhaps, a troubled upbringing? Perhaps, I don’t know.

On this sun bright day, here at the steps of Heaven’s Flight, under the green Camino Real Bell, there she danced. Don’t know if she knew I was watching. Don’t think she much cared. She was smiling, I think. Never saw her face, but the way her hands raised to the sky, the way her torso popped in a circle, the way she graced this watcher made me think of the blooming flowers in the wild, away from civilization. Hidden away from man.

Miracles Everywhere, Pay Attention
The green Camino Real Bells were markers for the California Mission travelers. It gave followers a guide to various Spanish Missions up and down the California coastline. It showed people the way.

Thought "How Ironic? A down-and-out dancer at the base of Angel's Flight under the Bell that gave weary travelers hope. Reminded me of the story the Prostitute that washed Jesus Christ's feet with her hair. Having little means, this weary traveler dancers here. All these things at that moment seemed to be telling me something. Felt lucky to catch this moment in time. Been having these moments with the Big Smile. Guess, I'm lucky to catch them.

Doesn't Need Validation
Is it beautiful if no one is watching? It is beautiful because it is beautiful. Things existed before you and I were here. It does not need us to validate its existence. However, if there is an audience, the experience is shared. When we share, allowing others to know each other, it gives us the wherewithal to be better. It allows us to escape these sins of jealousy, lust, and ignorance. It allows us to be great because we are great.

Let Others Follow
By letting ourselves shine, we give permission to others to also shine. Letting our children, the one’s before us to be great. Letting the ones to be great we are reminded that we can be more than what the chains that binds us. Perhaps, it is these chains we put on ourselves—emotionally, physically, mentally. Perhaps it is the chain others try to put on us. If we allow them to be loosed, if we remember that feeling of freedom, if we are reminded of liberty and independence, then perhaps we will be reminded of our interdependence and duty to each other.

Back to the ABC's
Like one of the tenets espoused of so many religions, we are responsible for what we do. So British Petroleum (BP), so politicians, so the man in the man (or woman) in the mirror, we are responsible. We may not have caused it, but it is our job to fix it. What we make of this world is our responsibility? It’s our stuff. If we can’t conquer the ABC’s of Homelessness, Racism, Religious Intolerance, Starvation, Drug Abuse and the ilk, then how are we going to deal with the hard stuff?

Our Ability Is So Much More
Its Heavy stuff, but that is okay. We are powerful beyond measure. We have the capacity of many great things and our learning curve is fast. Kindergarten to PhD in seconds. Not a problem. If we can make it through two World Wars, if we can send a man to the Moon, if we can split the atom, if we can copy the Human genome, if we can make a Magical Kingdom in the OC (Disneyland, if you didn't know) then we can do just about anything. Our knowledge of everything is said to double every five years.

Still, if we can only we remember the basic. Stuff we do is better if its “Made with Love.” Guess, we got to work on that.