she who speaks with tigers...

Gospođa Kontrola živi na najvišem katu, 6-om. Iz njenog se stana pruža fantastičan pogled – sve joj je pod okom, što je vrlo praktično. Naime, ona voli znati tko i kada dolazi i odlazi, tko postavlja novu fasadu na kuću, tko je kupio novi auto.. Mislim da se potajno i za sebe ona osjeća kao gospodarica kuće.

Njena prijateljica gđica Konfuzija živi kat niže. Njih dvije su si jako bliske, posjećuju se, stvarno se kuže. Kad god je koja u krizi, ova druga trči upomoć. Konfuzija je jedna od onih osoba koja uvijek daje bezrezervnu podršku i to je sasvim ispunjava.

Ispod gđice Konfuzije stanuju gospon Odvojeni i njegov brat Napeti. Njih su dvojica prilično frustrirani momci. Nekako to ne mogu sakriti, a vjerojatno se više ni ne trude. Valjda zbog posla kojim se bave – trgovinom na crno – sav taj pritisak, rokovi, prodajni postoci, kupci… Često se osjećaju i kao žrtve Okolnosti (to je jedna ohola gospođa koja stanuje vrata do njih i često im zadaje probleme raznih vrsta). Nije im lako.

U prizemlju se ustoličio bračni par Otpor. Otporovima je prilično dosadno i nezainteresirani su za bilo što. Ne vole fizički napor ni svježi zrak – jedino što aktivno rade je da gledaju sapunice i kvizove na TV te se eventualno odgegaju do dućana po hranu i pivu.

Nedavno se u zgradu doselila obitelj: mama Tečna, tata Povezani i blizanci Vjeran i Vjera. Ono što je unijelo uzbunu i val negodovanja među ostale dične i prilične stanare je što cijela ova familija radi u cirkusu. Tečna je plesačica, ponekad uskoči i kao pjevačica u limeni cirkuski band, Povezani je (definitivno) klaun, a klinci Vjeran i Vjera su možda i najzanimljiviji u priči jer pokazuju jako puno talenta kao trapezisti. I rijetko kada koriste sigurnosnu mrežu.

Zbog pridošlica stanari su se opasno zabrinuli za red, rad, disciplinu i reputaciju zgrade, pa su sastanci kućnog savjeta sve češći.

Sve ja to promatram sa strane i trudim se i ostati tamo. Zabavlja me sve to.

A kaj ću? Tko zna kakvih priča ima u drugim zgradama… ?

P.S. Je l doš’o možda koji cirkus u grad?

judge a moth by the beauty of its candle...

A lover was telling his beloved
how much he loved her, how faithful
he had been, how self-sacrificing, getting up
at dawn every morning, fasting, giving up
wealth and strength and fame,
all for her.

There was a fire within him.
He didn't know where it came from,
but it made him weep and melt like a candle.

"You've done well," she said, "but listen to me.
All this is decor of love, the branches
and leaves and blossoms. You must live
at the root to be a true lover."

"Where is that!
Tell me!"
"You've done your outward acts,
but you haven't died. You must die."

When he heard that, he lay back on the ground
laughing, and died. He opened like a rose
that drops to the ground and died laughing.

The laughter was his freedom,
and his gift to the eternal.

As moonlight shines back at the sun,
the heard the call to come home, and went.

When light returns to its source,
it takes nothing
of what it has illuminated.

It may have shone on a garbage dump, or a garden,
or in the center of a human eye. No matter.

It goes, and when it does,
the open plain becomes passionately desolate,
wanting it back.


Rumi

Ground
that I walk on
isn’t there.
I don’t feel it.
It might as well
be air.

Ground is so grounded.
It has nothing to do
with me.
Firm, yet kind and gentle,
it holds all of my ignorancy.

I don’t do it on purpose,
although, I admit, I got used to it.

Not to know the ground
is the only way I know.
But, something tells me,
(feet know it, and time will show)
my way is on this ground, too.
I will like a tree grow.



****************

FEET

Intro:
For fucking’s fun,
find a foreplay
of fantastic fit
for your feet.

Big Time, like a Big Toe
meeting a balerina’s ass:
“Good day to you, M’am,
hope you hold on tight.”


Feet, soles, heel, toes
souls of your body
stepping stones for your dance.

Feet need to be felt.
They want attention,
and they take on heavy loads
to accomplish that.
Being farthest from the head,
they feel most neglected.
And least connected.
Especially with the ground.

People are like tea bags.
You find out how strong they are
when you put them in hot water.
.
.
.
.

Many native cultures believe that the heart is the bridge between Father Sky and Mother Earth. For these traditions the four-chambered heart, the source for sustaining emotional and spiritual health, is described as being full, open, clear, and strong. These traditions feel that it is important to check the condition of the 4-chambered heart daily, asking: “Am I full-hearted, open-hearted, clear-hearted and strong-hearted?”
Where we are not FULL-HEARTED, we approach people and situations half-heartedly. The experience of feeling like we should do something when we don’t want to is the breeding ground for half-heartedness. Feeling half-hearted is an anouncement of wrong placement, and it is time to remove ourselves from these situations.
Where we are not OPEN-HEARTED, we become closed-hearted. Being defensive, encountering our own resistance, and protecting ourselves from the possiblity of hurt are signals of closed-heartedness. The answer is to soften and reopen the heart.
Where we are not CLEAR-HEARTED, we are confused and carrying a doubting heart. This is where we need to wait. States of ambivalence and indifference are precursors to confusion and doubt. When we experience any of these states, we are reminded to wait for clarity rather than to take action.
Where we are not STRONG-HEARTED is where we lack the courage to be authentic or to say what is true for us. Strong-heartedness is where we have the courage to be all of who we are in our life. The word “courage” is derived from the French word fro heart, coeur , and etymologically it means “the ability to stand by one’s heart or to stand by one’s core”. Whenever we exhibit courage, we demonstrate the healing power of paying attention to what has heart and meaning for us. As evidenced by the following Aztec poem, the combination of heart and its relationship to authenticity has been a perennial theme used throughout the ages.

The mature person:
heart firm as a stone,
heart as strong as
the trunk of a tree.
Noble face, wise face;
owner of his face
owner of his heart.
The mature person:
noble face, firm heart.

In so many ways
I want you to touch me
Touch me with your eyes and heart
Touch me with your fingers and bones
With your skin melt my burning agony
In the darkness
When the old tower clock stops and
disolves all time

You with your raven hair
dancing around me, dancing within me
Humming a tune of your ancient days
of the people who came before you
The tune sneaking into my soul
like a sleepy snake

You, my lover once dreamed
so deeply, deep, deeper, touch me
Let us enter the sweet silent darkness together
Let us enter through touch
We, touched and seen by each other
Seen in all our naked humility
Seen in the bone and the flesh
And in the splendour
of the people who come after us
The children of darkness, from darkness

Let us enter through each other
Passionately
Into the peaceful
dark void

Dala sam ti srce
od vode i gline,
srce od blata,
istanjeno i ispečeno,
otvrdnuto kao kamen filozofa,
tvrdo kao nesvijest,
neumoljivo kao svaka moja ljuta misao
koja mi se obila o glavu.

Kruta sam, dragi,
sebična i tužna.
Ali sve to više nije važno
pored tebe.

Srce se zvalo "Srečno" i
pahulja mu se utisnula u koru.
Možda se s ovim snijegom
otopi i ispere
do proljeća...
Kad prsti drveća zatrepere zeleno, srečno.
Srečno, moje srce.

Flamenko plesačica, prikrivajući se u sjeni, priprema se za užas svog plesa. Netko ju je povrijedio riječima, napominjući činjenicu da u njoj nema vatre, ili duende. Ona zna da mora plesati preko svojih ograničenja i da je to može uništiti zauvijek. Mora propasti, ili umrijeti. Želim se malo zadržati na ovoj plesačici jer, iako vrlo svjetovan primjer, ona vrlo dobro prikazuje snagu ljudske transcendencije.

Želim da zamislite tu krhku ženu. Želim da je vidite u njenoj dubokoj sjeni i strahu. Kad se začuje glazba, ona počinje svoj ples ritualnom sporošću. Zatim, toptanjem nogu istresa vlagu iz duše. Zatim, stupajući, dovodi vatru u bedra. Poprima čudan začarani sjaj. U mračnom, tragičnom bijesu, vičući, baca svoju glad, sumnje, strahove i svjetovnu molitvu za svjetlom u prostor oko sebe. Sva je vatra i sudbina, vrti svoju zagonetku oko nas i uvlači nas u stravičnu pogibelj svog plesa.
Rastavlja sebe samu pred našim skeptičnim pogledom.
Dezintegrira se, vičući, topčući nogama i rastapajući granice svog tijela. Uskoro postaje divlja, nepoznata sila, sjajeći u svojoj smrti, plešući iz svoje rane, umirući u svom plesu.
A kad stane - neobično velika u svom novom vatrenom stasu - izgleda kao netko tko je preživio najopasnije od svih putovanja. Mogu je vidjeti kako sada stoji, sjajeći u slavlju vlastite smrti. U tišini koja slijedi, nitko se ne miče. Činjenica je da nas je sve uništila.

Zašto se bavim ovom plesačicom? Zato jer za mene ona predstavlja hrabrost da izađemo iz sebe. Dok je plesala, postala je san najslobodnijih i najkreativnijih ljudi, onih koji smo oduvijek željeli biti, bez obzira čime se bavimo. Bila je more kojemu nikad nismo bježali, duh samoprevladavanja bez riječi, onaj kojeg nikad do kraja ne prihvaćamo. Uništila nas je jer smo u srcu znali da rijetko prihvaćamo veće izazove u vlastitom životu, radu, humanosti. Uništila nas je jer rijetko volimo svoje zadatke i živote dovoljno da umremo i na taj način da se ponovo rodimo u božanskom daru svoje skrivene genijalnosti. Rijetko pokušavamo doseći taj prekrasan sjaj što leži u misteriji naše krvi.
Može se reći da je na svoj način i u tom trenutku i ona bila plesačica Boga.
Taj duh skoka u nepoznato, to sretno predavanje vlastitih moći, ta mudrost izlaska iz sebe kako bi stigli upravo ovdje - i to je izvan dosega riječi.
Svaka umjetnost je molitva za duhovnu snagu. Kad bismo mogli biti čisti plesači u duhu, nikad se ne bismo bojali voljeti, i voljeli bismo sa snagom i mudrošću. Ne bismo se bojali govoriti, i bili bismo mirni u tišini. Naučili bismo živjeti izvan riječi, među najvišim stvarima. Ne bi nam trebale riječi. Naš osmijeh, naša tišina bili bi dovoljni. Naše kreacije i ljepota djelovanja bili bi dovoljni. Naše davanje bilo bi naš vječni dar.
Ben Okri

What have we embarked on?
This thing.
This standing in our selves.
This fullness.
This vulnerability.
This can of worms opened.
This comunity.
This longing.
This pain.
Falling through
falling through.
Falling.

My sister, I am falling with and for you.
We're in this together.

Pale sunlight,
pale the wall.

Love moves away.
The light changes.

I need more grace
than I thought.

She calls to the wildman
dancing naked by the shores
of the ocean that she is,
He who speaks with tigers,
whose muscles move with liquid grace.
He who no longer fears
his darkness, or
the stillness of the earth, or
the sometimes suffocating pull
of her relentless rhythms,
gravities and tides,
He who has made his peace
with Kali and the void,
He who no longer needs
to run or hide
from the sweet wource of power
calling him from deep inside.

Jody Levy

1242. U samo 10 dana.
Izvanredno. 124,2 po danu.
A 29? Minus 2 i pol u jednom životu.
Što je barem 39.
Koliko je to po godini?
A koliko još želiš?
Još priča, maštarija, projekcija,
slika, susreta, bijegova...?
Koliko još osjećaja moći?
Pažnje?
Taj broj ne postoji.
Nepoznat je i apstraktnoj matematici.
Nema broja koji te dovodi na 0.
Na tvoj početak. Ujedno i kraj.
Ono nešto za čim neznano čezneš.
Matematika je iluzija.
A i meni računanje slabo ide.
Dajem instrukcije iz pokreta, poniznosti i smijeha.
Uz svijeće. I čaj od lotusa.

U klaonici ljubavi ubijaju
samo najbolje, nikako one slabe ili izobličene.
Ne bježi od tog umiranja.
Onaj koji nije ubijen iz ljubavi, taj je mrtvo meso.

Rumi

...this is the time of poetry
teeny-weeny late hours of the night
when the worlds are shifting
from the light to the shadow of man
and plunging deeply into the ocean of emptiness
woman 's world of empty tenderness

no lucid dreaming tonight, my love
tonight we are wide awake
tonight we are removing the veil between the worlds
of man and woman
between the pillows and sheets
between the left hand and the right
and we are not looking behind
we are not giving time the chance
this night is the moment of becoming
one with oneself, one of you and I
and we're not giving away our precious present
for some dreams of yesternight

animals are wide awake
and there's none to keep them caged
let them move their muscles slowly, gracefully
their breath is flowing out of our mouths
tiger's teeth are glistening under your lip
my whiskers are tickling your snuff
the spines are cracking like firewood

If man wanted only light, he would not close his eyes and lie with a woman and enter the gate of darkness.
Those who want only simple understanding would not court darkness and woman.

As there is great blindness in light, there is great seeing in darkness. Out of darkness all seeing begins. The moist darkness of woman is the source of light, the primordial place from which came beginning and to which end returns.

Those who want only light will not understand beginnings and endings, comings and goings, the great tides in all things.


When man comes to woman, he comes to a special darkness.

PRIMAL DARK
Woman is the possessor of secret dark and emptiness. She is the luring huntress of light and man's fullness who fills her emptiness and reveals the secret.

In her primal dark is the deep origin and secret wisdom for which man searches. She is the receiver of him and the bearer of his wisdom.

In woman, man finds what is beyond thinking's struggle.

***
Woman is the generous and welcoming valley of soft mountains where man willingly comes from the hardness of the world to be overcome.

She is warm promise and roundness of full earth and moon to which even the wisdom of heaven is left speechless.

She is the presence of primal beginning from which man arises. Birth and life struggle him away but desire and death enchant him back.

A man's death in woman is his birth again.

She is confirmation of the small and great rhythms of blood and generations to which he keeps returning for comfort and release.

i udišem ti vrat, ruke, dah.
Ne žurim,
opuštam se u tu dugu predigru daha,
tog najpromiskuitetnijeg od svih mi ljubavnika
onog koji je prije sekundu bio u tebi
sad je u meni.
I ima li tome kraja?
Ne, dok ima daha.