Church of Kindness

I like what the Dali Llama had said, my church is kindness.

Imagine what the church of kindness would look like? No walls, no boundaries, no membership, and the only requirement for entrance would be to allow yourself to be a bit kinder to yourselves. Allow the splendor of the day & this simple pleasure of being alive to radiate through out our being.

Be kind to yourself. Do something fun today! Do something playful! Do something silly. Or do nothing at all, but stare off into the blue sky, and celebrate the day.

Imagine a world where people were engaged in kindness to themselves?

I am working on being a bit kinder to myself as well.

Thank you

Namaya
PS: new work@ www.vermontpoet.com

Blue Heron Pond Ever Glorious

Today the world away from Blue Heron Pond will be consumed by a lot of craziness that not even god's love can cure. God's love, from this panthiest’s perspective is nature. Nature and the beauty of her love can mend and cure so much madness in the world if we allow it. Imagine beginning the day, like here at the pond, taking a moment to listen to the birds, watch the flowers opening to the new sun, looking at the morning light and watching the miracle begin.
Today the possibilities are limitless: The reverence for life, the peace of waters, the kindness of the sun's warmth, the smile and laughter of an infant, a kind word from a stranger, mending a misunderstanding, or simply taking a moment to enjoy the special beauty of the day. Enjoy the day. Celebrate!

HEP CAT JAZ POET MYSTIC'S JOURNEY

The mystic’s journey is my journey as a poet, but I don’t think there is a job description for it. Though much folderol has been made of it as being enlightened or excessively wise (can one be excessively wise?), that may be a sage or a saint, I am neither excessively wise nor saintly; on the contrary, my sins are legendary, my impatience well known, and my sublime foolishness is a trait I cherish well. The mystic’s journey is merely “to see, to hear, to be aware” and my power as a writer is to harness that awareness. The Western African word for awareness is “hepi” to be aware and where we get the word “hep cat,” one who is cool and aware. I like that definition of a hep cat Mystic. Nevertheless, awareness doesn’t always translate to being enlightened. My awareness is through poems, the window of my reality, and I am enchanted by the world I am seeing.
The jAz poet thang’ is to see this world in terms of its extraordinary colors and compositions
I live in a sublime state of enchantment. The mystic is one who aspires to see the enchantment or if you will, the divine in each moment. As Blake said in Auguries of Innocence
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an Hour.

The Hep Cat's scene is to be aware. Watch. Attentive.

Dig the infinity of your imagination!

Creatve Imperative, Blogging. Dig the infinity of you

Namaya quiet? Hardly.

It is remarkable that I have over 645 pages of journal notes since the beginning of the year, but no entries on the main blog page since 2 April 2009. The blog world is still a mystery to me, where people gush out their thoughts and feelings, largely unedited, first draft, and voila their thoughts are broadcast to the world. I am a far more agonizingly slow writer. Though that may come as a shock to people who see me perform and watch me virtually create an entire show on stage.

My writing is always too imperfect, I like when I’ve had a full six months to a year to view it from a myriad of angles. My best editing for poetry is to tape a new poem to the kitchen cabinet and while waiting for coffee or cooking. I look at the poem from a distance. A poem is best viewed in the same way you look at a painting – give it distance, step back, look at it from various perspectives, and compare it to other poems during that period. Is the poem fresh? Are there favorite words I always come back to? Is my structure too familiar? Does the smell of garlic influence the poem? Is the impatience of brewing coffee reflected in the poem? Do I too much “delight” in delight? Ecstatic in my sea of ecstasy? Am I surprising myself? What is the jewel in the heart of the lotus?
Writing is a quick sketch and inspiration, the sudden insight, and the slow realization. While I can dash off poems and stories, there is the inhibition that most writing, in fact, all writing, is better when it is left in a drawer for a few weeks to sit and stew. It is the mold effect. When you first write, all pieces look wonderful and creative, but if you let it sit in the drawer for a day or two the mold and the imperfections easily show. By the second or third week, it looks horrendous, a science experiment gone awry, and if you're lucky, very luck, maybe a few pieces will be golden on popping out of the creative oven.
Though I am quite, perhaps too, candid at saying pretty much what comes to mind, writing mad dash missives, the truer comment and the more accurate writing is the slower more deliberate approach. I've struggled mightily with writing for decades. Some sort of brain chemical lack of insight or the unwillingness or inability to write clear cogent sentences. subject verb agreement, right tense, etc. haunts me. Though I’ve written millions of words, far too few have been as flawless as I would like. Some writer's can turn out beautifully crafted, grammatically cogent and bold sentences that appear as flawless jewels, but almost all good writers agonize over their work. I should say, the writer's I admire, are not weighed down by the artifice of cleverness, clever for the sake of being clever (which if you read the jAz mu blog I can be accused of that), but live for the pure joy of writing clear vivid sentence and well crafted stories. I love well crafted writing whether it is Calvino, Octavio Paz, Neruda, Ishigura, TC Boyle, Voltaire, Dante, Rushdie (though I admit sometimes I think he does get excessively drunk on words-- what is that libation -- Erotomania?), Faulkner, Anais Nin, Charles Frazier... and the list goes on of all the writer's who inspire me to my core. However, I am immensely inspired by other artists and craftsmen/women -- the sculptor Michael Singer who has been able to translate his artistic vision into a viable business; my jazz buddy Chris Bakridge who is so insistently loving in his exhortation "Find your tribe!; and the world of artists who were insistent on pursuing their vision Dali, Matisse, and the thousands of obscure artists who followed that divine imperative - create!
In this short missive to you today, create, dig the infinity of your imagination. Write without fear. Create without boundaries. Sing without fear of missing a note. Dig the sublime bliss of being you.

Abrazos,
Namaya