i went outside
to dance for my Moon
there came a moment
when i realized ...
there's a whole sky up there
Jivana's Memoirs: 80And so I traveled the world with Old Law. And I was treated like the royalty I had once, not so very long ago, wanted to earn to be.
Somehow he still had money stashed away. I didn't ask. I was just there for the end goal, I needed to find those guys. Whether I was on or off my path, I would be lying to say the journey was fun.
He took me everywhere and we sought parties wherever we went. I showed people the handshake that Zoe taught me.
I had no bracelets to give and so I gave myself. I gave hugs, time, conversation, or a moment to dance with. We were in underground tunnels in Prague, castles in Germany, churches in Romania, beaches in Goa and Thailand. The music was different and yet all the same. It made you want to dance. It made you dream. It made you bigger than yourself and connected to all who were around you. No matter what we were on or not, it was clear we were addicted to this scene more than anything else. It provided us with
Jivana's Memoirs: 79Serendipitously, Old Law was at the bar, drinking a beer and watching the sets when I wandered into the bar.
"You look like a changed woman".
I did not blush. I stood there shoulders back and down, away from my neck which was long.
Head slightly tucked, giving me more length through the spine. I stood there taller.
"Your eyes are sparkling" he said.
But I could see myself reflecting in him, and it intrigued me more. I sat down to engage and receive more stories. I had
plenty of my own but I wasn't sure I would be able to tell them for awhile. I was processing.
Old Law told me about the full moon party that had taken place a few nights back and how these events were going on
around the world. " This electronic music" he said "is everywhere. It's a global underground I hear. You know, I know
people in many places Jivana".
My thoughts kept going back to my friends. I knew I needed to get back to them. It's as if he could read my
Jivana's Memoirs: 78I came down the mountain a new woman. I had a tune I created in my head.
It was first my voice
"I am energy, it's all just energy"
and then it would be Le Tigre's
"Every thought, every word, every deed".
That was my entire song, my mantra on repeat, fueling my journey back to Old Law.
I thought about stopping by the tree house, but I decided that time had passed.
As I crested the point and beheld the view of La Salsa Brava, I took in the breath of that left breaking wave, and I could hear Le Tigre say to me,
"Do you understand Jivana?"
"I think so" I responded.
"Do you know what you need to do?"
Jivana's Memoirs: 77She became quite theatrical. At first it was through exaggerated stretches, and then she rose to become a ferocious walking tiger queen. “THIS” as she pointed to the fire. “Is your fire for your FEEEEEAAAAARRRRRS” she roared. “THIS” and she spun around 360 to present the fire to me with her hands “is where you THROW your FEARS IN TO THE F I R E!”
She danced around the fire howling and laughing maniacally. I could perceive the echoes bouncing off the walls of the cave. Then she hopped over the fire, coming to me nose to nose, softly growling “all of them”.
In that moment, I didn’t think anything was more frightful than her but then my perspective shifted and both from my being and yet all around, emanated a being and a wormhole. It would be the first time I would meet her, the multi-dimensional, Ethereal Hope, mother of the jungle, angel gua
Jivana's Memoirs: 76It was about 3 in the morning when she woke me.
“It’s not even the next day”
She had prepared a brew, crackling upon the fire still. Smoke seeping around the pot. She handed me a small cup of thick brown liquid. Surprisingly cool.
“Oh, that’s a different batch for later. I’m getting ahead of my work”.
She looked at my wincing face and said “You know, I think you need two”.
The brew was thick, and earthy. I wished I had a chaser, but I was given none. I nearly threw up on her my fear of her tattooed face held it back. I still had not quite gotten used to that yet. I could tell underneath she was beautiful. She was beautiful still, but I couldn’t help but keep thinking that she had done that on purpose, to cover her beauty, to make herself almost frightful, to make the tests harder.
“As you journey, I want you to also remember the sacrific
Jivana's Memoirs: 75She spoke to me, and mostly we breathed together. She said I needed to focus my mind.
“I cannot have you sleep yet. You will just dream. You have proven to me that you can direct your inner world but you need to hone that skill”. We stretched with yoga asanas and breathed for what seemed like many hours.
Finally as the waves began to cease to stillness she told me I could sleep.
“You will have more work to do tomorrow”.
“What did you learn today?”
The first thing I said was nearly a whisper "It's all connected".
"There is a vastness, a timelessness, and a smallness all of seem to be at once. This world is wondrous, this universe is wondrous ... and I can't shake the sense that at the center of being there is a star." And then I stood up, danced, and spun in circles "I am not sure if I am light or if I am sound".
And she let me go to sleep.
“That light” I said as I drift
Jivana's Memoirs: 74Instead of analyzing I had decided I was just looking. I was just looking at information stored. It was not for to feel incited by one way or another. I needed to breathe, and witness, observe, and learn in a non-judemental format. After-all, I was clearly under the influence and what was real versus not real was perhaps just another lesson.
After some flashes I started to feel like I was one with the tree so much so that I had become it’s roots, and what normally would have frightened me became a task of strange joy as I rotted away on behalf of the insects and in communion with my tree. But like a mother, realizing her child was somewhat astray, I heard Lakota call to me and try to get me on some sort of track. She could feel me or see me and she was there to guide and steer.
“Jivana, open your hand”
I opened my hand and immediately feel the hot of the sun penetrating my skin and the crystal. With my eyes still closed, it’s
Jivana's Memoirs: 73“Think of this like a small computer. It was owned by your mother but she gave it to you to explore and to use. When you have received the information, you will need to wipe it clean so that you can make it into your computer, your tool. Otherwise you will not be able to give it it’s full power”.
She had positioned me upon a natural forming rock bed in the cliff where a tree shaded me from above. When I first closed my eyes, I saw mostly patterns. It was somewhat reminiscent, yet more vivid, than the tunnel I had seen before. A swirling pattern of golden light and violet light and then to black and white.
I wasn’t sure what to do but then I heard that voice. Not Lakota’s, and not mine yet someone mine. It said “Ask”.
So I asked to for permission to access the computer. I asked permission from the crystal. I asked permission from my mother, and I asked permission of the one who raised me.
Jivana's Memoirs: 72I walked out of the dark cave and toward the light of the outside and walked into a world of throbbing, pulsing, wonder. If there was something I was sure of, it was that the jungle was alive. The sky was a light beamed web dome, but as I looked upon the landscape, I saw dome-like light beams emanating off of all within my view. The sounds and the light were connected and I saw the world from different eyes. This was a knowing outside of my body, an invisible knowing I was connected to … ...or maybe just connected of and with.
I became entranced by the sky and the swirling of some clouds until suddenly I was teleported into them. And as I looked down upon the ocean, the jungle, and the cave, I remembered that night at the rave, above the crowd, connected to the night sky and the light beams that connected … everything. I was suspended like a sufi out of time until the soft calling of Lakota coaxed me down.
“Jivana, it is time you access your m
the playwrightGod is a playwright.
He sits in the back row
of velvet seats and claps
160 bpm after every act.
He closes his eyes when
the audience laughs together,
His play is very good,
and He knows this.
After the show,
they always ask,
“How did you make
the characters so
honest? So real?”
He shrugs in his tweed
jacket with elbow pads,
frowns slightly, says,
“The characters got away from me.
I did not make them this way.”
Forming HelixForming Helix
sit at the root
of totem poles,
into token shards
and let heat signatures
like alcohol ciphers.
gazes glazed vitreous view
that triggers starry
eyeshot into shaky acuity
before sclera’s bloodshot
autoscopy astral projection
as it spirals
IlluninatedLight from within and light from without,
Mingling in a dancing prism,
Reflecting gold, red, blue,
Reuniting orange, purple, green,
Again to become a single beam,
A Place to call RefugeThere is a world that follows the laws of nature.
Survival of the fittest; it’s killed or be killed.
Predators all around, and not enough places to go.
But there is a place to go.
In the midst of nature, an asylum is built behind enemy lines.
“Come in; there’s room for someone like you.”
A home like no other; the heart is compelled.
People coming together; a place to get away from the chaos.
Laughter, smiles, tears, and compassion; a refuge is born.
A home like no other; a refuge in the middle of a war known as life.
Built on an unbreakable foundation; there is nothing like it.
Nations and worlds collapse to form into one; a place to thrive than survive.
It’s forever beautiful here, and the heart of it beats.
A love like no other and a compassion like no other.
Nature can survive, but the refugees will thrive.
A place to call refuge; a home for all and hosted by the Master of Masters.
In a Moment of Clarity
Under the two way mirror below each layer of the faded paint of a coffin, lied the liar laying alone and undead. Laughing in amnesia's grasp at his own reflection upon seeing himself through crazed eyes.
I know the story that is told for the doomed soul, and how short it is will remind you of condemnations meaning. A guinea pig by his own curiosity laid flat in useless soils, his was a cliche tale of woe and an ending without twists.
A turn for the worst will come with the lights switched on and the glass broken, and his first steps will be into a world without law or regulation, yet a prison all the same where the guards are inmates and the Warden was once near flawless.
A hooded figure had come sporting typical black for the cliche fool as told in countless fables, and delivered unto Hell an unrepentant sinner for whom God had wept just like the innumerable before him. The fool will weep from now on.
Biographies for these characters are fables tattooed on the golden calf upon which t
and it's gonehe filmed the street in one long take
only a smudge of pigeons in the slanted
yellow of poverty only gouache squeezed
out of the subway entrance there was love
and brotherhood in equal amounts
it was reserved and a little distant he
thought always holding its wings up
so as not to smear the feathers why
is it so afraid of losing precious oil to bay water?
she who shimmered in barked half-whispers
under the weight of words in gun smoke
harpooning outwards how does she know
there isn’t a void around helplessly
paddling hoping to touch the edges of the pool?
so he sat on the sidewalk that purred and
recoiled under denim if he can touch
with his hip bones its simmering cracks
then it has to be real doesn’t it? a stranger
shared a cigarette with him he hit pause