Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Nicaraguan Sonnet 4: Gigante Beach

A fallen tree trunk belts the entrance,
bleached by the sun, salt and sand.
Long beach dunes, not a single footprint
Gigante begins where the fishermen land.

American surfers roam through the inns.
parking their boards outside the shops
Drunken Marine slurs Tona with sly grin
to the plump brown matron un-bottling hops.

Hungry black dogs saddle up to your knees
Locals eye newcomers with a quiet suspicion
who suddenly appear like forest breeze
a bloodless and dark apparition.

Maybe you turned a ghost in translation 
No dune footprints marked, no human relations.



Dream: Socks in the Trees

In this dream I was driving through a network of highways with others, who I can't remember. We're driving down a ramped road and pass by a tree. They're white socks hanging on the branches. I'm aware that they're my white socks and I panic. I pull the car over and very agitated. This is my missing stuff. They're socks and  underwear and shorts hanging up on this wall of tree branches. There are several more trees in a line underneath the ramp. In particular there are my pink shorts that I brought here to Nicaragua, my checkered shorts and some t-shirts. Also hanging up on this wall of branches are several beautiful oil paintings of jazz musicians. I begin snatching my clothes and paintings I find particularly attractive. I feel more at ease now as I gather all of my clothes back together in a pile. I don't remember how this dream ends by I walked away with some beautiful artwork.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Nicaraguan Sonnet 3: People on Roads

Native hitchhikers thumb orange dirt roads
Piling in back of trucks, vans, and 4 X4s
public transport is a simple code
a smiling gesture, a knock on the door.

Red eyed kids drink Tona on crouched toes.
chucking the glass into lush canopy
rocking and reeling from jarring blows
as dented dirt roads flow to the sea.

Toothless frail wisps and jelly round women
wave rides to Rivas, Tola, and San Juan.
Stuffed with babies, cabbage, and liters of gin
Holding their carriage with breath held and drawn.

Rolling waves of masses run to the city
carrying cargo of hope, hunger, and felicity.









Monday, August 1, 2011

Nicaraguan Sonnet 2: Growling Monkey Questions

Are the monkeys called howling or growling?
Cant remember but theyre getting closer to the kitchen.
They dont eat people or pets out prowling?
Probably best to keep all trash in sealed bins.

Was that a scorpion in my shower this morning?
Theyre more scared of you than you are of them.
That one behind microwave is giving me warning.
Morning coffee never seemed so dangerous and grim.

I heard there were black bats in this forest.
that have rabies, syphilis, and the clap.
Theyĺl nick the wallet of American tourist.
Dont smile at that bird, its all a clever trap.

Such a relaxing time on vacation reprieve.
From bolted up bedrooms we never did leave.

Nicaraguan Sonnet 1: Rain Season

White foam skiffs dock cliffs moss green
rolling fingers arise, recede, and release,
snatching stragglers to the dark blue sheen
down to the bottomless cold surcease.

Red Villas dangle over cresting booms
rocky crags echo the quaking earth
rainbow crabs scuttle into cupola rooms
plummage mists into dawn birth.

Vermillion flames fan up empty sky
Spilling down crushed emerald mountains
suffusing the salt air in a crimson dye
horizon melt into whirling jeweled fountains

A royal seat of water and fire,
 Lost Mayan kingdoms and ivory husked pyres.

Two Dreams

I actually had 3 dreams last night that I can remember. But the first dream consisted of me roaming through a bunch of different rooms in this run-down motel, sort of a Hotel California situation. The details have gotten lost in the transition from sleep to waking. The other two dreams I do remember somewhat better.

In the first dream, I'm in a city that has skyscrapers with clipper ships levitating at the top of them. Some of the ships are aligned in the upright position, but many of the ships are sideways or upside down. Each of the ships has a different color aura around it: red, blue, green, etc. There is also a marina with actual yachting ships pointed up, down, sideways, in many different directions. In general all the ships have the same white sails and white body with different color auras.

My Lama has just gotten out of retreat. I'm looking for a building for Holy Lama to do a teaching in. The building has to have a yacht on top that is facing upside down. I walk through the town and there are some good candidates. The one that feels most likely is, in fact, a very small building in the harbor with a nice little upside down yacht with a red aura. I talk to what I believe is the owner and/or manager of the building. Then I make my way to the teaching.

The teaching has the usual students and some unusual students I've never seen before. There are two older females, twins in fact. Both are dressed in brown colors with chopped brown hair. They look masculine and sitting on both sides of me. There are many many plates of offering, mostly cookies and cakes. I am sitting there listening to the teaching. She has an aura, either clear or rainbow.

Holy Lama goes into the other room to begin seeing students privately. People are eating the offerings which I find too sweet to even grab a plate. There is a camera sitting on a chair next to me. I pick it up and begin browsing through the digital pictures on the screen of my Holy Lama in retreat or on vacation. One of the twins tells me, quite harshly, that it's not my camera. I put the camera down for a second and then a few moments later pick it up again. Then the other twin roars at me "PUT THE CAMERA DOWN." Stunned and scolded I put the camera down. I start a mini-argument in my head of what clever and cutting things I could have said in response. But there's nothing to be done. I realize I was wrong and feel even more embarrassed. I go to the table of food and feel sickened by all the cakes and cookies.

An urge rises up in me: I need to leave so I need to see the Lama immeditately. I'm aware that I'm usually the last one to see Lama but now I want to be first or nearly first. I then see a bunch of students arguing about who can go first because others have to leave early too. I get upset because it's the same lackadaiscal, late-comers, early-leavers who are in line first and fighting with each other. Then I feel hopeless. I'm not going to get to see her first. I decide to leave and convince myself that I'll see her tomorrow to report on the different building options for the teaching. My Lama comes out and asks 'where are you going?' I give the excuse that I have to do work, look for buildings, and that I can come back tomorrow with a report. Surprisingly, she seems satisfied with this and I quickly exit. I'm walking down the street at night with all these building auras lit up. The clipper yachts are levitating and turning slowly at the crowns of all the buildings. I feel alone and strange. There is no grand ending to this dream. I am just walking down a quiet city street feeling 'out of sorts.'

In the second dream I'm in a church. The pews are angled in criss-cross directions with different sizes so that there is actual floor space in the middle of the pew maze. I am on the middle left section of pews that is parallel to the stage. Further in are 3 guys in red (at least 2 of them were wearing red shirts I'm sure); all of them I perceive as being gay. I am trying to pray but also eavesdrop on their conversation. They're talking about relationships. One of the men is looking directly at me while talking, while the other is facing away. In fact the latter never turns around. The third guy has his back to the stage so we can see each other but don't make eye contact. 

The man with his back turned to me is talking about his marriage. I become sort of uncomfortably aware that he's talking about his marriage to a woman. The other two seem nonplussed. There is a service which makes me feel very strange and then a woman with reddish blonde hair comes out on stage and motions to me. I stand up and go to her. She holds what looks like a Bible and points to particular sections while whispering to me to introduce the next preacher. I'm completely confused why I'm introducing the next speaker and who is speaking, why is she pointing to particular passages in the Bible. The conversation is jumbled. I keep asking for clarification: now WHO is speaking? Okay, who are they? I'm starting to get annoyed with myself for not being able to understand her. She is calm and continues to whisper and point at the passages. I become worried that the guy with his back facing away from me is the next speaker or the son of the next speaker. Then I understand quite suddenly.

My job is to introduce the next preacher who is waiting in the wings. He has reddish blonde hair and a ruddy complexion. He is, in fact, the father of one of my friends (who I won't name here). There is a window next to the pulpit and I can see my friend -who has very dark hair, glasses, and looks nothing like his father- outside smoking a cigarette while it rains. He's facing me sideways and leaning up against a yellow island wall outside the window.

I give perhaps one of the shortest introductions ever. I simply say "the father of so and so.' There are some applause and then I go back to my seat. The pew behind my seat is very close and there's an Asian woman who is annoyed that I'm sitting there. But I was sitting here first, I think to myself.

There is strong awareness that this is a Protestant church and that this unassuming man in a brown suit with ruddy features is Roman Catholic. He comes up to the lectern and starts with an incantation. He starts chanting. I just assume it's Latin, but when I listen it sounds very strongly like Tibetan. He's chanting and chanting. I start chanting with him and I'm following him while being aware that I know what he's going to say next. We are, in fact, doing some Tantric Buddhist mantras because I can pick out a few words which aren't in the open teachings. There is one chant in particular that keeps getting repeated.

At some point either here, or when I stand up, I am removed of all clothes except for my underwear. I'm aware that I am without clothes and feel ambivalent. On one hand, I know that I should sort of have clothes on, but on the other hand I look kind of good without them. I'm in the church hallway chanting bent over a table. My friend are coming and going in the hallway. They're talking about where they're going to eat after the service, gossip, and I become really sad. I start sobbing. It's a dry sob and tears come a bit later. Everyone becomes quiet and aware that we're in a church. They're apologizing to me but I don't want their apologies or silence. I keep saying again and again 'it's just so sad.' Someone brings up Amy Winehouse and I keep sobbing while saying 'It's so sad.' Amy Winehouse, the gossip, the ridiculous conversation about what songs they want played on their wedding. It's all just so sad. I cry and wander up and down the hallway saying 'it's just so sad.' And that was the end of that dream.

Recalling these two dreams makes me remember the vague fossils of several other dreams I failed to write down the past week. Many of them involved rooms and going through chambers.

Before falling asleep last night I was reviewing rik chi and dun chi's in Buddhist logic. The car'ness vs. 'a car.'


Friday, July 29, 2011

Wrestling with the Devil

My first wrestling match was in my junior year of high school. I was participating in this to stay in shape for football in the off-season. Through a series of unfortunate incidents I went from being the 4th string heavyweight wrestler to starting in a few days. Suddenly the cushy, aerobic training was now real and in front of crowds.

There's an entire world of rituals, ethics, and shorthand to a wrestling tournament. I was thrown in the middle of this all and tried to just blend in. My opponent looked like some horrible villain from The Hulk. Black, dark, shadowy, he was a stereotype of African American male animal power. He was 6'5 230 lbs of savage ripped muscle spread out across shoulder blades that were Stonehenge-like and ribs as massive as an airplane hangars. I stood at a very flabby, pear-shaped 5'11 with thick glasses and a nasal drip.


My coach didn't even bother looking at me or offering me advice before the match. I went out to the center of mat to shake hands. He grabbed my hand and growled "I'm gonna kick your ass." I curtly nodded and whispered under my breath 'probably.' Then a whistle sounded and a flurry of motions. His arms were moving like windmill blades. I stuck my hand in to the vortex and felt an intense chopping pain so I quickly withdrew.


There was no fear in this moment because the challenge was so impossible, so ridiculous that I was whimsically resigned to my fate: death by pulverization. Feeling light and almost giddy with expected defeat I locked up with him at the shoulders and experienced an intense crushing sound. It was the sound of my shoulders and chest cavity being compressed into soup can. My mind made a quick mental note -this ain't good- and I leaped back to safety.


Assured of his superior strength, speed, confidence, and pure rage my opponent took a step back and charged me like a bull. In one of the most brilliantly simple and instinctive reactions in my life I did one thing: I ducked.


Time slowed to a crawl. It happened just like in the movies. The sound of the crowd faded, the spotlight drew tight around me and my enemy. In ducking I managed to put a hand up over my head and touch his shoulder, guiding him quickly on the arc of his flight. As he floated by my face I could see the rage in his face slowly turning to confusion. Confusion turned to surprise as he landed on the mat.


There was an audible gasp from the crowd. And my coach looked like he just saw me grow a second head. I shrugged my shoulders. Cheering quickly returned and I looked around asking 'what do I do now?' The villain got up enraged. He charged with again with more speed and force. Once again, I ducked and tossed him over my shoulders. This time I got on top of him to score points from the referee.


That was the general flow of the match. He would charge with increased frustration. I would duck, sidestep, pivot, and try to avoid getting decapitated. Eventually the match was called. I looked around confused as the referee motioned toward the scoring table. I had scored so many points that the automatic forfeit rule kicked in to prevent further humiliation.

The referee grabbed my hand to declare me the winner and my instinct was to duck and toss him too. I resisted him for a moment, but he got a solid grip and raised my hand in victory. No one had ever raised my hand in victory. I felt very silly and suppressed my urge to burst out laughing. 



My opponent sulked away from the mat. He wasn't the massive action movie villain. He was just some big kid like me. Later that year I faced him in the division championship final. My coach tried to juice me up by telling me that my opponent was bragging about how he was going to destroy me. When we met in the center of the mat to shake hands he growled "I'm gonna kick you ass." I nodded again but didn't whisper anything this time. In the first minute he got me in very painful headlock and began trying to wrench my head from my shoulders. I knew I just had to keep my balance and not panic. I got free and proceeded to win the match on agility, sidesteps, and using my opponents strength against him. To this day whenever I face something impossible I think of wrestling with the devil. All I have to do is step to the side.


Recently I completed a silent month-long retreat in Nicaragua. It was one of the most painful, blissful, insane, satisfying moments in my life. There were times were I thought I couldn't make it and I had to keep surrendering. Keep asking for help.


I step to the side of my own demons and afflictions. They are wild, strong, savage beasts. There is no way I can out-muscle them. They will pulverize, crush, and chop me up. But in that moment I surrender and that light giddy feeling returns. I am being helped. I just have to get out of the way.

Looking for Bubba Jesus: Left-wing Patriotism

Left-patriotism. I feel like this is circling around our conversations. What does it look like, how do we redefine it? Right now the Dems ha...