Toni
“….I was always a little bored by demonstrations of evil. They relied on the same things. I used to say it always has this top hat and a cape and a tuxedo and a cane, and it has all this stuff, glamour and costume, maybe even a little theme music.
But goodness never has anything, because it doesn’t want anything. It can’t use anything. It’s just there…
I think what happened is World War I, when goodness, and certainly after World War II, when being a good person was trivial, almost silly. A character could only be understood to be good if he was stupid. He was never clever or sophisticated or even well educated….
….the good few books that I get and read sometimes have extraordinary, brilliant, beautiful language, but the thrust and the effort in the language is toward trying to explain something that is corrupt or lacking. If not reaching the heights of evil, it lurks around evil, and that’s what’s supposed to interest the reader….
It’s not interesting to me. It’s too easy, if you get my drift. Goodness is really and truly hard. You can’t seduce it. So writing and trying to find language for it has been probably all I have ever done.” ~ Toni Morrison
“I want to remind us all that art is dangerous.
I want to remind you of the history of artists who have been murdered, slaughtered, imprisoned, chopped up, and refused entrance. The history of art, whether it’s in music or written or what have you, has always been bloody, because dictators and people in office and people who want to control and deceive know exactly the people who will disturb their plans.
And those people are artists. They’re the ones who tell the truth. And it’s something that society has got to protect.
But when you enter that field, no matter where you are, whether it’s Sonia’s poetry, or Toshi’s music, or Ta-Nehisi’s rather startlingly clear prose, it’s a dangerous pursuit, and somebody is out to get you.
You have to know it before you start and do it under those circumstances, because it is one of the most important things that human beings do. That’s what we do.”~ Toni Morrison
There is a Word Called “Surrender”
and it makes me think of the Korean monks who chant “donnnnn’t knowwwww”
i too don’t know.
and the sufis in all of their wisdom and self given titles of “idiots”
—to know differently… to know from somewhere beyond what is rational and intellectual.
and it makes me think of my whole creative process….
there is only so much i can do…. only so far i can take an idea … before i have to completely surrender….
give it back to where it came from … pass the baton onto invisible hands that carry it and me across the finish line… … …
it’s okay to know… someone once told me…
and… it’s also okay to not know… to surrender…
to give it all back to where it came from … to let life become the creative process…
to let the invisible hands take over our own …to carry us.
“If you surrender to the wind, you can ride it.” ~Toni Morrison
there is a word called majestic.
and someone pointed out to me once…that when we look at the beauty of a tree…that is all we see… we don’t judge it for its knots, crooked branches, or all of its varying imperfections. We see the tree in all of its bends and turns and rough unexpected ness and accept it as is …as it was intended to be. as beautiful. now imagine she said…if we humans could see and accept ourselves and each other in the same way… no expectations. no imperfections. …just acceptance. as is. as intended. beautiful . majestic.
on women and dragons…
and down by the fireside in the dark of the night she sat with me…
this beautiful beast.
her arrival unexpected… so swift and unexpected.
the tongue is our quickest path of flight…
to protect.
to protect?
but look at all the damage…. the earth is scorched….
the eyes will continue to extinguish. it is their job.
my job is to preserve you.
within one palm she hands me scales …. they shimmer and shine like pearls….
learn to wear it.
to be hard?
to be safe.
and with the other she lifts me back into the tower.
The window seems even smaller than before.
and in the distance there are no mountains…. and no sea.
only the now small silhouette of dragon wings departing against an orange glow.
and ….
she wishes she could melt sunsets and star light into gold.
and spin it into spools of thread…
thread that she could needle and stitch
stitch and repair
hearts
and
souls
to mend
across all time
space
dimensions.
The Landscape of a Valley
I think it’s all here.
between mountains.
between worlds.
the hard stuff. the soft stuff.
the streams. boulders. flowers. marsh.
the hills. The gorges.
the wild life.
and
me.
46 @ 430
In the silence I hear best.
and i say thank u.
and the dj of my mind throws a new record on…
as I said… Thank you….
for letting me be myself…
again.
i don’t own much.
just one thing really.
and we all got to have one.
and we all gots to responsible for our own.
***
… Lookin' at the devil
Grinnin' at his gun
Fingers start shakin'
I begin to run
Bullets start chasin'
I begin to stop
We begin to wrestle
I was on the top
… I want to thank you for letting me be myself again
Thank you for letting me be myself again
… Stiff all in the collar
Fluffy in the face
Chit-chat chatter tryin'
Stuffy in the place
Thank you for the party
But I could never stay
Many things on my mind
Words in the way
… I want to thank you for letting me be myself again
Thank you for letting me be myself again
… Dance to the music
All night long
Every day people
Sing a simple song
Mama's so happy
Mama start to cry
Papa's still singin'
You can make it if you try
… I want to thank you for letting me be myself again (oh yeah)
(Different strokes for different folks, yeah)
Thank you for letting me be myself again
… Flamin' eyes of people fear burnin' into you
Many men are missin' much, hatin' what they do
Youth and truth are makin' love, dig it for a starter
Dyin' young is hard to take, sellin' out is harder
… Thank you for letting me be myself again
I want to thank you for letting me be myself again
Thank you for letting me be myself again
Thank you for letting me be myself again
… I want to thank you for letting me be myself again
I want to thank you for letting me be myself again
I want to thank you for letting me be myself again
I want to thank you for letting me be myself again
~Sly (and many more a folk….)
Conjuring Slot Car Energy
Dear God, Make me like the slot car please…. zishing my path…and never jumping the track.
Ummmm….
Nas…
u r def in ur slot car mode.
I salute.
Kings Disease 1. 2020
Kings Disease 2. 2021
Magic 2021
Kings Disease 3. 2022
Magic 2. 2023
Magic 3. 2023
Light Years: 2025
Stay Focused.
Imaginal Cells
Perhaps, I’m quite late, but recently I learned about a thing called the “imaginal cells”
that’s what the scientist call them…
and though I don’t know who exactly coined the term… I feel a special way for them doing so … for the courage to acknowledge that level of truth… the courage to bring the word imagination into the world of science… and to exalt it back to a throne of divine intelligence. but this is not about them.
this is about the caterpillar and the butterfly.
and so much more.
I had come to know that the caterpillar completely dissolves in order to let go… and allow what is to become… but what I did not know…is that the caterpillar is not at all in a state of acceptance and allowance … rather, it is resisting the whole time.
having survived the attempts of being devoured by all who tried… it now resists its unknown destiny of going from inching and crawling—to fluttering. gliding. soaring.
it resist the very beautiful life that has been prepared for it next. that it has earned. That it was always meant to have.
but… it doesn’t matter. while the caterpillar is being resistant to the Unknown… to the newness it feels. the happening is still happening.
the Unknown still makes way for its own self… in this instance the unknown newness is of course the butterfly—not yet born… and yet already is and was a part of the caterpillar all along. ( kinda like how we each already lived inside our own grandmother’s bodies…. and didn’t even know it…)
So…while the caterpillar feels itself—it’s life— dissolving… these IMAGINAL CELLS… begin to emerge from within … they exist so deeply within the caterpillar…so quietly within it that the caterpillar doesn’t even recognize them… (hmph.) (that part is questionable to me.) (but nevertheless) it treats them as a threat… as a foreign body…. as a problem…… as something that must be gotten rid of… and so it tries. It tries hard. Its immune system fights hard against the newness. Against the blueprint of a new world once so deeply imagined. Kills off the imaginal cells as they form….
(I can’t help but to wonder how it all feels… i imagine … a strange fusion of … terror and ecstasy… peaceful familiarity and calamity… … home and wilderness…all at the same time… and I wonder about ones inability to see one’s own self… our inabilities to receive and accept beauty that is emerging … goodness. and… well.. insects have instincts better than we….so I just can’ believe that there is not some level of knowing… )
nevertheless. it resists.
but thru all the resisting… … the happening still continues… the imaginal cells accumulate. grows stronger. …the caterpillar’s immune system literally collapses from exhaust… from the exhaustion of resisting one’s own self. … critical mass of the imaginal cells occurs… and finally wings as already drawn down in the blueprint of the caterpillars dna… begins to take formation.
and ….well.
ain’t that grace if there ever was such a thing?
What u say Nipsey?… “Evidence of a divine presence?” for sure.
and then I get to wondering… God…well…why did you even bother with the Caterpillar… why not just go straight to the butterfly… why even put either of them through it?… but somehow the process is fused… designed that way… One Soul. 2 bodies. and the butterfly cannot exist without every detail that the caterpillar has experienced…and I guess that means that the caterpillar — no matter what it thinks or does … really can make no mistakes… it can’t mess this up! cause every bit of life experienced is the batter needed for its new life… for it to fully become…to truly BE. to take flight. all it really has to do is survive …. and the rest is already written. coded. hmph.
somehow it all gives me hope. u know. … that there’s a fail-safe on this whole shebang… and that maybe we can worry less. ... even if we don’t get it all “right” ...or try to sabotage it all… divine imagination shall still override this world. hmph. the “gentrification of good ness and rightness…so to say… it’s a good thought.
Here’s to hope.
here’s to courage.
here’s to love and grace.
Origins of the Wind…
Remembering… no matter the type, temp, or intensity..…
these winds… they all comes from the Sun…
The Elephants have Arrived...
You won’t see them. But they are here.
Doing the work that the elephants do.
Amber eyed…. and free.
5 days of Fire Medicine.
“I want to connect the earth to the Universe”
“I am exploring connection to an unseen power.”
“his legacy is written in fire.”
Oh Sky,
i bet you didn’t even know how wonderous so much adornment could feel….
and how much you’ve deserve such a being.
vs. the ones who have filled you with the so very un-beautiful things… the violent and destructive things
It makes sense that you’d settle
for and be content with still ness. and nothingness… over more of the same.
Madam Sky…you have and always will endure.
and through it all…you continue to show up giving birth the sun daily to light up this world… even in your own darkness you are the keeper and giver of light.
and then here comes this guy—this Man! … setting you afire in all the most wonderful of ways.
the love and ecstasy you must feel.
If the expansive sky could ever fall in love with the human being… of course it would be him.
who made it his goal to build a ladder connecting he to you…and you both to the heavens above.
… and when the finale booms…
I ‘m certain you cry in quiet streaks of smoke and still ness.
returning you back to the mundane.
to your sky full of alone ness.
to maintain and hold up all that you do.
Saturday. Sunday. Monday. Tuesday .Wednesday.
5 days of explosive
luminous.
beauty.
Cai Guo-Qiang, when your art is done—
I hope you take care of her please. i hope you stay with her in the silence until the debris —of explosives and heart shards have landed…
that you drive away slowly.
Oh to be the human being that the sky has opened her heart to.
when Chinese alchemists were developing elixir of immortality,
one recipe caused an explosion.
They named their discovery “fire medicine,”
the Chinese word for gunpowder.
From the very beginning, gunpowder has been about accidents,
loss of control and destruction.
But it's also been about the healing power and unseen energies.
I dreamed of becoming an artist when I was little, but like my father,
who was an avid painter himself, I was cautious and timid.
Caution is a fine quality in life, but not so in art.
Once upon a time
in a haystack of despair
Happiness sometimes hard 2 find (Yeah)
Africa divided
Hijack N the air
It's enuff 2 make U wanna lose ur mind
But i say...
It's only mountains
& the sea
Love will conquer
If U just believe
Oh yeah
It's only mountains
& the sea
If I ruled the world…
There was an ice cream shop my mom would take me to when i was little. Called the Pink Dipper, I think. The walls were pink. And all along the walls were shelves with toys. porcelain masks. and clowns. Very fine things. such beautiful things. And along with each self was a sign that read “YOU BREAK IT, YOU BUY IT! ” and I would get the stern talk an eye glare from my mom at the doorway “…..DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING!” To this day I don’ t recall the ice cream or it’s taste. I don’t even recall the items and what they were. I just know that they were bright and beautiful. And that I was restricted from them. from having. from touching. from engaging with the fine things… restricted from beauty.
seem to me that there should be a law added to docket. May no human ever be restricted from having. touching. or relishing in BEAUTY. It may in fact be the very thing we need next to food and water.
I wish i could parachute it down in neatly wrapped satchels for the entire world.
and maybe with a note! that says… “If you break it… THAT’S OKAY! ! …just remake it… into some thing new and beautiful too.” like the Japanese potters repairing brokenness with gold.
and why don’t we hear more about you more Bill?
