Beyond the Clouds

How the wind blows these days.

I can remember when the wind was shy. Timidly and gently, careful not to knock anything over he would whisper silently his secrets into our ears and caress our bodies so delicately. Was it fear of damage, of his own strength, or was it lack of confidence, or doubt that others could handle him, love and accept him as he was that made him so aware of the way he moved? He seemed to hold back even when the clouds built up around him, suffocating him, and on days when the searing hot sun burnt the land and the trees he sat in the shade and desperately hoped that he would not be seen.

He would slink away stealthily, sigh a breath of relief and collapse.

I've seen him crazy and all stirred up sometimes. And on the odd occasion, he'll sit still and watch the young and old interact. But the most moving times is when he is full of love and emotion and he knows this too. Far beyond having any control over his feelings he delights in this love, and spends his time wondering and musing in the night. And as he ponders on the wonders of this mysterious feeling he whistles to the creatures of the night and hums sweet melodies to the lonesome solitary she-spirit. He is drawn toward her shiny light and waits patiently until she is standing, so still and so silent, so that he is certain of her full attention without any distraction. And in return, she bows into his arms.

And how she bows.

Today we touched, we felt our way around the room. With the eyes closed I could feel my skin tingling. With minds at rest, we let our fingers, our toes, our skin connect with all that is other. Finally in contact with something so solid, so strong, so reliable. I smile, breathe, relax and dig my fingers into the cool dark earth to grab hold of the spiritual bones offered by Amida.

After sitting for some minutes in front of the wall, I look out the window. Right next to the Kino is a Flamenco bar. I know there are other shops on the other side of the Kino but so far I've managed to avoid facing the bright flourescent soft pink flashing sign and flutey music by directing my eyes to look right.

It's Wednesday again. I am never hungry until 6.35pm. The rumbling begins and the pangs of hunger pinch away inside. The dancers are stretching on stage, and their moves are so elegant and refined. I try to stetch my neck by releasing my hunched shoulders, looking straight ahead, I need food to fuel this fired up feeling burning everything I know or thought I knew. Something unseen and unsaid has got out of control demanding to be fed milk and honey from the royal hive.

The smell of spicy salsa wafting into the room makes me drool. My teeth, my tongue, my tonsils, my throat eagerly await the enchillada so tempting and tasty with a dash of tobasco sauce. The two second meal and all my pain, all my longing, all my hunger, all my thirst is gone out the window leaving me staring out the window.

the face looks slow
the hands seem dead
the clock on the wall has nowhere to go
when time is taken then mine is wasted
and the spirit thrives in eternity

in time it grows
in space it mends
the clock on the wall has seen all the shows
when life stands still and time is tasted
the spirit lives in prosperity

through grace you love
through freedom you head
to take the clock down from the wall
when the feelings flow and tears are shed
the spirit takes no time at all

Order - what a funny word that becomes when you say it over and over and over again. I am part of an order. What order? Whose order?

The Order is composed of 16 bright shiny people and it is Amida Buddha's order. Amida's order is, however, not an order while at the same time is very much an order, and I myself find it hard to create order in this said order.

There was a time when peace was felt by the inhabitants of this tropical Island. There was a time when the earth was worked by loving hands and food was accessible and available to everyone who lived there. There was a time when the Carib Indians had to contend with volcanoes and hurricanes but the French settlers took care of that by wiping them out in the 17th century.

Now, there are angry protesters and riot police. Now, there is not enough money to pay for the basic necessities of life for those who live there. Now, there are barricades, stones thrown, cars burnt, and one man dead.

Now there are people whose patience and money has run out.

There are times when we are led to believe that protesting (and in the union leader's case) risking one's life is worth it if it leads to freedom and new hope for the next generation. But this is the French Carribean run by France. This is an Island that uses the Euro as it's currency. This is not a country run by a military regime and so are lives to be risked?

When once tourists used to go to Guadeloupe now 4 police units have been deployed - paradise has become a war zone.

Take a country with a sad and powerful story, sprinkle in subtle shots to engage the heart and mind, add a few graphics and background music and the product is this creative motion info-video "Iran: A Nation of Bloggers explores how the digital world allows many Iranians access to ideas and freedom of expression they haven’t had for close to thirty years."

It's always fun to read the inside of a wrapper

Burma in the news



Interesting to see this video clip appear on Youtube more than a year after the protests led by the Buddhist monastic community.

If you want to support the people of Burma or would like more information then please go to Burma Campaign UK