vipassana y madre aya

Mother Ayahuasca,
deliver me from my ego,
this selfishness, this I
which is the root of suffering.

Mother Ayahuasca,
allow me to see clearly all that is interconnected
within me and without me.
allow me to see clearly all that is changing,
with pure equanimity.

Mother Ayahuasca,
show me the path towards compassion,
to love all beings,
bhavatu sabba mangalam.

The temple is large and circular, candle lit, with a variety of images and illustrations of spiritual saints and deities. We were around 20 participants in total, largely non-Peruvians, including the shaman and his assistant. The shaman had a French accent and conducted the ceremony in English with comforting confidence and skill. Everyone participating in the ceremony goes up to the shaman, turn by turn, to silently ask Madre Ayahuasca for a request and to receive the sacred drink. The above was my personal request during my surrender to the evening's ceremony. It felt almost like a religious prayer, and in many ways, it was. The shaman emphasized the medicinal nature of Ayuhuasca and instructed every one to be mindful of a spiritual intent, request for answer or healing. He also instructed everyone to observe a noble silence and no contact for the duration of the ceremony in complete darkness (9pm to 3:30am).

My girlfriend & I had decided to seek out an Ayuhuasca experience upon hearing about San Pedro, the mountain & desert cactus while in Chile. While we didn't get an opportunity to experience that particular ancient healing plant, we happened to be ending our trip through South America in Peru. Ayuhuasca is a legal and culturally recognized medicine in Peru, and considering that our 10-day Vipassana meditation retreat took place in Bolivia, on our way towards Peru, it felt like a perfect aligning of location and timing. Upon the completion of the meditation retreat, and upon the conclusion of the 10-day noble silence, many of our fellow meditators were buzzing about either past Ayuhuasca experiences or up-coming ones. In particular, for a few days we hung out with a Swiss-German friend who had participated in a 30-day Ayuhuasca retreat near Iquitos in the northern jungles of Peru, and a Polish couple who lived for 3 months in Peru's Sacred Valley (where we were planning to go). They gave us invaluable insight and preparation tips for our upcoming ceremony. We also researched online, and watched a documentary featuring a handful of academic scholars called Ayahuasca: Nature's Gift. All in all, open to a new experience and a bit of nervousness aside, we felt solidly prepared.

Though what we experienced was beyond any sort of preparation we could have planned. If all the recreational psychedelic trips of my past can be considered as teachers towards insight of self and the world, then Ayuhuasca was like a cosmic mother professor. A large factor was the context in which the ceremony was conducted. Unlike casual, recreational psychedelic experiences with friends, this Ayahuasca ceremony was conducted with guidance and limitations. I've already mentioned noble silence, no physical contact and the absence of light. The shaman and his assistant were very experienced, and during the ceremony, performed a variety of songs (Amazonian medicine songs and songs from a variety of religions including Hindu, Buddhist & I believe Latin Christian) with traditional folkloric instruments, guitars and a harp. We were encouraged to remain seated, and if possible, to remain upright (as lying down intensifies the sensations).

This experiential context is akin to research therapies which had been conducted with psychedelics in the 60s & 70s, as well as the clinical studies of more recent years. These research therapies have been particularly focused on the treatment of alcoholism, drug addiction and cancer-coping research. They are conducted in a conditioned environment, with researchers as guides and usually with a sleep mask and music. A question posed in a recent episode of New Yorker's Out Loud podcast was: "What about psychedelic treatment for the betterment of well people?" Based on the observable results (of speech and actions) and the overall undeniable sense of positivity and warmth which radiated from the participants upon the conclusion of the ceremony, it was clear that the Ayuhuasca group experience had a profound impact on each individual.

Words are merely words, and it is in their nature to reduce an idea or experience into something categorize-able, understandable and communicative from an individual to others. With this in mind, the following sentences may contain dualisms and abstractions which really only scratches intellectually on what had occurred experientially.

From my perspective, the experience of Ayahuasca stimulates and encompasses all observable bodily sensations, as well as intellectual and emotional spheres simultaneously. While each individual experiences a different trip-- their own journey so to speak, there is an inexplicable connection, a basic similar ingredient which unites all of us which shines through upon conclusion. Parallels can be drawn to the cycle of Samsara which every human being experiences. While our paths may differ individually, yet we are all bound within the universal law of nature; that we are born, experience change and ultimately die. During the ceremony, there is a clarity of awareness, that all of one's past, all the people and situations you've encountered, had been perfectly sequential and affective to this present moment.

DMT as a chemical is latent in all humans and a handful of organic plant matter. The activation of Ayahuasca affected my girlfriend in a manner which recalled past lives, many and rapid continuous bursts of deaths and rebirths, and the cyclical immense pleasure trappings of Samsara. All occurring experientially, without a grounding in the self, or her idea of herself as a singular entity. It was pure experience, beyond thought or contemplation.

A grounding in Buddhism and meditative practice was certainly a significant framework to mine, and my girlfriend's experience. Having experienced spark moments of ego-lessness and full present-mindedness during the later stages of my second intensive Vipassana meditation (around 8-9hrs of dedicated meditation per day for 10 days), I felt as if I could see all reality's details in pure vibrancy, without attachment and with the full bliss of compassion and understanding. Everything was simply so, a truth I've come to learn from meditative practice, and under the blanket of Madre Aya, this was clear in total operationality.

A Western philosophical way to describe it could be with the assistance of Martin Heidegger's concept of 'Dasein' where mortality and existence becomes a full experiential realization, beyond theory or philosophy. Perhaps a clearer, Eastern way of describing it comes from the Zen school of Buddhism. 'Shoho Jisso' means 'all things are as they are'. As described by Kosho Uchiyama; "What we call "I" or "ego" arises by chance or accident, so we just let go instead of grasping thoughts and "I". When we let go of all our notions about things, everything becomes really true... When we let go of everything, we do not create artificial attachments and connections. Everything is as it is. Everything exists in one accidental way or another. This is the present reality of life.

With regards to present-ness, or 'Genjo', the 'present becoming present': "Within the present, there is a past, a present, and a future. The past and future are real and alive only in the present. This concept of time in Buddhist thought is very important. It is different from the notion in Western philosophy that time flows from the past into the present, and on into a future in a linear way. According to Buddhist teachings it doesn't quite work that way. the past, present, and future are all contained within the present."

Ayuhuasca either manifested these theoretical notions fully and experientially for me on a personal level, or perhaps this is the fundamental, universal framework of existing, experienced differently from individual participant to individual participant. Perhaps the best symbolism of the all-encompassing spiritual nature of Ayuhuasca can be described in the directly observable environment in which the ceremony was held. When you go up to the shaman for your drink, and you engage in the moment of spiritual intent, you may glimpse the array of items assembled before the shaman. Among these items are an image of Jesus Christ beside the image of Gautama Buddha. Two figures who embody the highest ideal of compassion and selflessness. When it comes to living, and becoming aware of the temporal nature of our existence, it becomes clearer and clearer that living compassionately is the only path towards liberation of suffering.

Further Reading:

Opening the Hand of Thought: Foundations of Zen Buddhist Practice (2004) by Kosho Uchiyama
Being and Time (1927) by Martin Heidegger
The Trip Treatment (2015) by Michael Pollan (http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/02/09/trip-treatment)
New Yorker Out Loud: Psychadelics as Therapy (http://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/loud-therapeutic-tripping)


summer 2014 - reflections of the rising sun

river stroll horizons,
shimmering clarity
of ceaseless rippling
through heart streams.

memories of sunsets,
sweet smells of desire,
how false this breeze
we drifting vessels.

orbs and rotations,
toil and games,
questions of what lies
beyond--

where comes this ego?
loves and attachments
soft lips smiling,
where does it all go?

known it for long,
and know it we still
cycles of suffering,
and the golden path.

cessation of yearning.
or drown again,
and again,
in ceaseless, ceaseless ripples.



A stone's throw away from Marshall's pad there is a river stream, and there we spent a considerable amount of time. We dipped our feet in the water, gazed upon its mesmerizing ripples, and conversed along the river's edge.

It's called the Ota River and forms from little streams stretching down from the nearby mountain horizon. It flows through farm lands, small towns, temples and shrines, eventually spilling out into the Pacific Ocean. Sporadically, other groups of friends, couples and families would come to the river as well, swimming and fishing in it. Grey herons and white egrets can be seen standing and flying serenely over this river. The water is so clear, that on a sunny day you could see, as if through pristine glass, the shimmering details of the deepest rocks and the fish darting about within.

This little river was an absolute wonder to me, as it has been too for Marsh all the months he's lived here. And even more wondrous, were the same clear and unpolluted streams found all throughout the Japanese towns and cities we traveled to. They ran along streets and sidewalks, and were home to a healthy diversity of animal and plant-life. On the surface, you could say that Japan is very clean. But the significance of this cleanliness conveys a deeper reflection of Japanese society as a whole. A care towards their natural environment, a spiritual tradition towards local temples and shrines, and a social order towards each other.

Four consecutive months in South-East Asia has revealed to me many things. Of these experiences, I'll draw out only a small slice: There is an island in the Perhentians which attracts a lot of tourists. It is not uncommon to hear the words “Paradise on Earth” to describe these islands, and indeed, the natural wonder to be found there is beyond words. However, there is a blatant problem on this island. They seem to have no environmentally responsible recycling system in place. Some of the plastic waste is gathered up in heaping piles, the rest is tossed carelessly into the jungle away from the beach. Anything that is not plastic, they'll burn at night.

In particular, there is a stagnant body of water on this island, and it stews behind the beach-front resorts. This body of water used to be a river. It is now covered in plastic bottles and other trash. The water itself is thick and sickly green with rotten algae, chemicals and other pollutants which exhume a grotesque stench with every gust of wind. It is an infected open-wound upon nature's very surface and I can feel my own revolt rising as I gaze upon it. I also see the same disgust on the faces of others who pass by. Yet the locals either don't have the knowledge, or the resources to deal with such an issue, and the tourists are in “Paradise on Earth.” They've earned the money, carved out the time, and are now in full escape from the worries of everyday life. The British phrase that I hear all too often comes to mind; “I simply can't be bothered.”

For the first week of my stay on the Perhentians, I would walk by this vile body of green water a handful of times a day, and each time I found myself agitated. A voice within myself was telling me that this was wrong, this smell was off, and that this must be stopped. I'll be honest however, and sadly admit that after a week, I too got used to the poisoned body of water as a part of the everyday reality of this place. Like the locals, I became habituated, my mind drifted towards other, more selfish concerns, and like the tourists, I wasn't 'bothered' anymore. In hindsight, there is not much that I could have done in that situation to make a true and lasting impact. The feeling of agitation that I felt was a construct of my mind; my own thoughts and desires in relation to the external world.

To break it down more clearly; the act of imposing one's own desires on the external world will only lead to suffering. This is due to three reasons: 1) All conditioned things are impermanent, therefore, anything that is external to ourselves, is ever-changing. 2) In yearning to change that which is external into something of our own desire, is an attempt to mold it into something we think to be permanent and attainable; this is an impossibility. 3) This impossible process leads us to experience impermanence as a conflicting force against our own precious egos, thus creating personal suffering. In the example of the polluted water on the Perhentians, the first point naturally applies. A few hundred years ago, this river was not polluted by industrial waste. That same area of land may have been just rocks and tall grass, and at some point, under the sea. A few thousand years from now is also speculation; the toxic pool may be cleaned, it may get worse, the oceans may dry up, or everything floods beneath turbulent waves once again. Stardust shifting ceaselessly upon stardust.

The second point is where a voice comes in, an ego with attachments and desires. It was telling me that the existence of this disgusting pollution was wrong. That I should do something about it-- to make the world around me a better place, lest I be weighed down by a heavy, guilty conscience at having either contributed, or stood by complacent while something horrible was happening. It was a voice that was willing me to enforce my opinion on something external of myself. My desire to change something that I saw was 'wrong', into something that I felt was 'right'. What I didn't fully realize at the time, was that when it comes to the ambivalence of nature and reality as it is, these thoughts don't weigh as much as I think they do. To take it upon myself to dive into the green sludge and pull out each and every water bottle would have been an ineffective and impermanent folly. To attempt to set up a long-term recycling system with locals and government is outside of my qualifications and not reasonable within the very short time-span that I wished to spend on that touristy island. Aside from complaining about it, reducing my own waste or calling attention to it with locals, it was entirely a situation which I could not make a tangible and lasting impact. It was an external condition, like so many things in the world-- outside of my control, and to allow it to weigh so heavily on myself, would have been adding an extra layer of complication to my cognitive process. An additional layer of worry and guilt which removes me further from the essential acts of mindfulness key to generating positivity within myself and to all those around me. So what was this voice which was telling me right from wrong? Who speaks it and why does it exist?

When I met up with Marshall, he was able to provide a whole new dimension to these questions. He set up an analogy of a video game, namely an MMORPG. The world as we experience it, is the world simulated in this game. Everything that contributes to your sense of 'you'-- your appearance, your personality, your fears and your desires, come together as your character in this RPG. From Plato's cave to the Matrix, this analogy may sound familiar. However, in the context of Buddhism, it really hits home as something which reached beyond just a story; it may very well be reality as we experience it.

Consider the video game analogy as identical to the Samara of life. We are unwillingly born into life, we live through life in suffering, and we die only to be reborn back into suffering. The 'Food Cycle' expressed by Maasaki on Adventure Time conveys this idea very succinctly and entertainingly. Through science and language, we reinforce the notion that all things are interconnected. We coexist with one another, with nature and with some spiritual notion of God, threading together our understanding of our reality's fabric. We're all tiny particles vibrating in an ever-changing, ever-fluid unison. The infinity which stretches into the mysteries of space, is that very infinite which reaches into an atom, deeper and smaller than even the Higgs Boson. What is beyond this infinity? From where does the source of that initial voice echo from?

Consider now all that which exists outside the RPG world. A user sitting outside the computer, clicking around on the screen. The character goes this way and that way. To survive and to keep the game on-going, the characters must satisfy some basic needs, that of food, safety and rest. Items are picked up along the way, characters are met and so the game-world grows. Goals, loves and desires are developed, the senses are pleasured. Greed and power arise, cities and civilizations fall, and rise again, in a ceaseless cycle of toil and suffering which spans the dawn and dusk of humanity's short time in the sun.

The lucy trip itself was a fascinating diffusion of the self into pure sensation and thought. We started with a meditation. Then listened to the randomized mix we put together, leaving our bodies behind and giving up our senses to be lifted by the monumental power of music. We tried different fruit, which were fresh bursts of nature's seductive potency, and watched random videos, including endless laughing and amazement at the above mentioned Adventure Time episode. We floated for an untraceable amount of time by that most beautiful river stream. Marsh was able to tap into the zen deconstructions which occupied most of his existence six months ago.

For me, I was held back by my attachments. It didn't make sense to me that the light which glowed within the leaves, and danced upon the water's surface, was but an illusion; sensoral perceptions masking the underlying truth that all things are simply empty and without meaning. It meant that all the people that I knew, all whom I love, were also just a projection, a fabrication of how I perceive them in my own mind. It felt entirely alienating, and all the inter-connectivity of the world shrunk into a dull grey orb where no sensation could be leaned on for certainty. It became very apparent to me that the only way to escape this orb of toil and meaninglessness, was to detach entirely-- to detach from my loves and my goals and dreams, and to fully dedicate my life towards solitude and the practice of meditation for the goal of enlightenment. My ego had build such importance around itself, building up so much meaning in those external factors of Family, Friends, Art & Nature, that when confronted with the proposition to shed it all, it revolted. To say the least; it has been a lot to think on.

During my conversations with Marshall, and especially during the evening of the lucy trip, it became very apparent to me how much meaning I had placed on my everyday earthly attachments. In other words, I experienced the full unzenness of being attached to game NPCs, quests and the very shiny graphics of the game-world. From the intimate love I feel towards Hedda, to the supporting love I feel towards family and friends. From the pleasure of the sun's warmth upon my skin, to the texture of plant-life brushing between my fingers. The feeling of utter release at the end of a prose and the whisper of words on an indigo night.. how could these be merely false projections of my mind? How could it be true that I was only a character in an illusion, in a game-world within which nothing was truly real nor of consequence. Since the new year of 2013, I had reaffirmed the importance of Family, Friends, Art & Nature in my life, and in this process, completely lost sight of the impermanence which underlies all things. During the come down of my trip, I was confronted entirely by the meaninglessness of all that I had put so much meaning into.

And that was okay. Through the process of meditation, one must learn to let go. Of attachments, of goals, of expectations. These are merely words which reflect all the trouble we cause for ourselves, within our own heads. It was humbling, challenging, and refreshing to be re-grounded in such a way to the truth of impermanence. People come and go in your life. So too does your sensations as they're tickled by the forces of nature. Of art, and our tireless drive to replicate ourselves, to create like the user, like God, to question the voice, to point at it and reach for it through visual, musical, scientific, religious, lyrical and physical abstractions. Once again, these are mere words, strung together in an effort to communicate, to understand, to question. However, only in action can one truly experience.

I spent the majority of the day after our lucy trip in solitude. I went off for a walk without a destination in mind, and ended up being gone for hours. I sat, reflected and meditated, and I was more or less able to lighten the burden of meaning. Out of all the paths we may choose to walk in our inconsequentially transient time in this RPG orb of endless endeavours, I will choose to walk the path of compassion. Choice is our only sword in the suffocating darkness of uncertainty. Just as easily, you can choose to give in to acts of immorality. Of sloth, greed and harm. It is difficult to say if there is a literal God which judges you at the end of your life-cycle, or whether all this is but a challenge, a test of spiritual fortitude. From an existential perspective; at death's gate, all your actions, good or bad, are past and therefore nothing. Clouds rise and rain falls. Accordingly, the elements which make up all that is physically you, will dissolve back into the cyclical forces of nature, fluid and without moral, social constructions.

Buddha teaches mindfulness in thought and action. A compassion for all things and an open heart to see reality for what it truly is; transient, ever-changing. One of my critical lessons over the past few months is to try to let go of my guilt. The guilt I feel when seeing harm done to animals, or the guilt I feel when I receive a complement. All of these external conditions which sparks an internal turmoil. The compassion which Buddha teaches comes from pure selflessness, whereas guilt stems from a feverish focus on the self. I am learning to let go of things that I cannot control (other people, situations, the daily deaths of countless animals) and trying my best to accept the reality of any given situation with all my heart (every moment, every conversation, every complement) My sincere belief is that any and all small actions, if stemming from a place of warmth, to give warmth, will have a rippling effect which can change the external world in a positive, selfless manner.

Trying to strip away all layers to come closer to the truth at the core of all things. And from the removal of the heavy layers of the ego, attempt to give out compassion and attention through everyday mindful interactions. Eliminating layers through exercises such as eating healthily, reducing waste, giving my full attention during conversations, and weighing every word like a chess piece. All ideals, but essential actions to better condition myself for natural instances of detachment. As Marshall took care to remind me, detachment should not be forced. Detachment too, is not necessarily a complete removal of the self in this world. It is also a full embrace of all that is around us and within us. It's a unifying force as much as it is an elimination of the self and ego. Mindfulness of temporality is a full engagement of the present moment, it gives interactions a whole deeper layer of meaning. Awareness of an end brings you closer with those you love. Every moment becomes sacred and fleeting. Every hug a long farewell.

To conclude, I'd like to share another slice of the time I spent with Marshall. We were coming down from lucy and we went over to a Buddhist temple nearby. It was entirely humbling to be immersed in such a beautifully crafted and serene space. So much care and attention had been placed into the details of every little aspect around us. From the patterning of the stone tiles, to the balance of majestic trees, rich plants and curved-roof buildings, all were in harmonious relation to one another. The air was fresh and the visual aesthetic of entire space had an absolute calming effect on the eyes and spirit. It was there that the words which swam in my head since my first day in Japan, finally formed coherently; “I truly admire a society which can realize a space such as this.”

Yet even at this temple, spider webs were apparent everywhere. Japan is quite over-run by spiders. It's interesting to think that in a society which has taken such extensive care towards spotlessness, nature still prevails in a small, ambivalent way. Though nature and the forces of impermanence will always topple the tallest of our monuments-- during our short time here, it is somehow much more refreshing to walk in a river in small-town Japan, than to spend even a second beside that polluted green water in the Perhentians.

From a Buddhist perspective, both environments are perfectly fine the way they are. Words like 'clear water is nice' or 'it smells like shit, therefore it's really fucked up.' are only projections, masking what they truly are; two bodies of water in different, changing conditions. Though it may mean that I toil for a while longer in this RPG orb, I choose believe that the path of compassion is worthy and conductive towards a more natural, inevitable detachment. To care for such a basic element of the world-- water, is such a mindful act. It is the same water which flows through all of the planet as it flows within all of us.

I cannot imagine that same body of poisoned water sitting anywhere in Japan, and that is a testament to the mindfulness of that society. In the case of fresh water, and environmental sustainability, Japan has managed to subdue that extra layer of cognitive conflict by eliminating it entirely. Their spiritual spaces of temples and shrines have a most beautifully calming effect on the soul. Despite the social rigidity, the environment of Japan is certainly the most conductive towards compassion and social harmony that I've come across in my travels thus far.

Addendum: Any act of good, no matter how small, contributes goodness into the world. So long as you don't make it an act of Passion. Act and experience without cravings or aversions. True compassion arises naturally and is simple so in the present moment.

skating in circles

the most romantic
is all that never happened,
and there you skated
before the red light glow
of a city on valentines,
we are alone.

you glided smooth
and backwards in circles,
your ponytail twirling
like a paintbrush
in the wind.

i've created you freshly
blossoming in my head,
with my eyes and with my eyes
i knew i knew you,
before we glanced each other,
in a moment softly sniffling.

we never spoke, and never spoke
and nothing transpired
between our frozen dance,
between the deep circles
we carved around each other.

you untied your skates
and i gazed at mine,
our shy silence lingered
as the bus pulled away,
from an empty, silent rink.

voices lost in snow

garden of words and thought of daniella
between hills of snow and soft warm smoke
"we drifted away, because there wasn't that spark."
last few days, and i haven't had a chance to breathe
so busy with nothing, these lists and stars.

one week from today, where will i be?
it's been over a year, since i was torn apart,
lust and desire, when will it stop?
nothing is constant, nothing remains the same
this too will pass, these two lost lovers.

and tolstoy says it all:
"hearing the strange tone in Eroska's voice,
Olenin turned to look at him.
The old man's eyes were filled with tears,
and one rolled down his cheek.
He was crying."

shinkai's colours,
in daniella's eyes.
kozelek's sighs,
these aimless wanderings.
marshall's calm,
to their sad fumbling.
there's zoran in Eroska,
and Olenin in i,
all frames shifting,
all things changing.

at Finch, on Palmerston, in Lake Ontario

Off the subway and onto another, they sit next to each other, polite giggles, how wide her smile. Eyes narrowing as she flicks her head away, and back again. Strays of ink hair fell onto his shoulder and her freckles shimmered as she nods, "that's exactly so."

He didn't understand, he sometimes did, but this time he didn't. He puzzled at her slim eyes and quick nods. What was she confirming, what had she said? He remembers only her smell; steamed rice and shampoo. After a few stops, they noticed a shambling man, gazing from across the train. With a fog in his eyes, the man looked at them shamelessly, longingly.

Just before the final station, the man rose and shifted towards them, until he stood firmly before the train door. He mumbled a murmur and looked down at their feet. The two teenagers looked at each other. He saw her dark olive eyes, light and playful, and they laughed at their own silent hesitation. As they walked past the shambling man, he could hear a faint, coarse whisper. And he paused a moment, and tried to listen. He thought he had heard something familiar, and immediately was pulled away by her arms determined.

The seasons melt into snow and it's winter now. They somehow found each other again, in his car and headed towards a restaurant. He followed her directions and parked near Palmerston Avenue. They then sat from across each other, and with earnest searching, they scaled the history of each other's walls. He had left the city, while she remained. "I love Palmerston." She had once said when they were younger. At the restaurant, she ticked off the past in an increasingly complex manner. Stories of marriage swirled into recollections of affairs. The names were foreign to him, like the dish he ordered and barely ate. He looked only at her lips as she confidently drank red wine. Deep rouge waves cascaded within a thin frail glass.

In the car, she had asked, "Now that she is around that age, would you care who she brings home?" He stopped at the mute red light and said that he'd be fine with it, that he trusts her to make her own decisions. "People make mistakes, it's inevitable isn't it? You learn and you move on, it's okay." The snow fell softly onto the wind shield-- landing and melting in rhythmic symmetry. She was looking at him, at his mouth in the shadows as he spoke, and turned away towards the window when he finished. The car accelerated onwards and the lonely glow of street lights blurred across her eyes. She had always resented his careless ambivalence, and her silence told him he was wrong.

They undress each other in a hotel room.
Slowly.
He doesn't understand why she had searched so desperately for a view of the lake.
At this time of year, there are ice floes on Lake Ontario like gently bobbing islands, suspended in the slow process of melting and freezing again.
The hours until her flight dissolves coldly into the corners of the hotel room.
As he kisses her neck in the pale morning light, he feels a tear roll down her cheek.
"I don't know what I'm doing."
He stops and looks into the quivering pools forming over her eyes.
"I don't love him, you know."
He lifts himself off her and off the bed, as she continues to look at the ceiling.
"He doesn't hurt me like you do."
A suffocating silence.
He leans aside the window and sees a strong wind pass over the ice floes.
The wind lifts a thin layer of snow into a shimmering, empty rotation.
He parts his lips and they are dry.
His voice is coarse and distant.
She closes her eyes, tears escaping and she nods,
"that's exactly so."

- December 2013

on poetry

I am slowly realizing
that my thoughts are
everyday, like waves
of clouds

my writing, and the urge to
write, is a construct, like
trying to catch those clouds
as they were

and poetry, my need to
write poetry, is my only
salvation, to just let the
clouds
be.

what i know

i know that any thought
i think
is already gone

i know every film i make
is a shadow of what i see

i know that everything
i write
has already been forgotten

i see the rain droplets
before me
and
it is the only peace i know

indigo madness

a cityscape
of buildings rising
skeletons of an ancient race
softly rising, softly falling
slow whimpers, incoherance,
the dawn approaches
indigo madness
artificial leaves
in artificial light
so real to the touch,
this hologram
where are we going
where is it leading us
where is the sun
and the moon that i knew
why all the plastic
in all that i taste
i look through the building
through its exo-husk
i see the city
it tries to become
i feel the madness
it tries to contain
and i know of babel
and how it must fall

fer e

mark kozelek's lyricism transcends
like debussy.
the restraint he exercises,
those builds and crests and falls
and builds again,
until releasement.
like finishing a thought
all the way through.

looking into the mountains though,
and looking at the river flow
with old friends,
but memories
and one day, you know this day,
it has been written into the
stars
that emotions escape you.

fer f

we swim in trees
and breathe out leaves,
our sighs to clouds
and smiles believe,
in this great unity;

of all that is present
and all that will be,
memories of;

her eyes at dawn,
you wink at me,
between coffee steam.
the mistakes we've made,
it's all laughter now.

equanimity.

and our dogs will grow
yet still be the same,
and our loved ones too,
we never change.

our leaves will fall,
our flowers bloom,
your waves will crash
your sun light rise,
into the wind.

may all the warmth in the world
gather towards your happiness and well being

fer p

at the tip, and higher still
staring at the new red leaves,
blooming bloody droplets on
web trees,
branching constellations
ruby and bright, reaching upwards
into a stale indifferent sea.

sinking we, surrounded by
a prideful sky,
and the wind that tides,
teasing the strands-- our fine threads,
like the light,
which splits all trees.
it is gray outside again,
as the day,
dies into night.



fer e

a warmth so small,
gently rising,
and out again.

each strand containing,
a breathing rhythm,
between cold fingers.

your eyes will open,
and the cosmos spill,
in exploding agile instincts.

but for now,
you lie atop of me,
tail painting on my face.

and all else is still.

fer m

two divided travellers meet,
by chance, aside a meadow's creek,
their souls a floating far behind them.

through lightning storms and cloudy peaks,
and distant days of fading weeks,
at last, they finally found her.

dazzling smile in shimmering heat,
her river glimmering through heart-beats,
softly she surrounded.

their ancient weary souls united,
and oaken earthly eyes a lighted,
all those years released them.

valley rows of orange trees,
carved with holes of secret leaves,
and all their adolescent yearnings.

no longer did he need to seek,
that dark ocean beyond his reach,
for her oneness was all around him.

and silently their souls a melted,
and all the dew drops felt it,
their final breaths escaping.

fer g&s




i've stood this bus stop many times,
and many more in winter grey,
always on my way to yours.

in my ears repeating,
resonating slow pulse rhythms,
a parade for all my fallen friends.

i see the parting of cloudy mists,
and a million more before,
i feel your warmth and presence nearing,
the right direction home.

"i don't know why,
i honestly don't,
but i really need to see you now."

i pull to you and pull to you,
and you cast us into midnight,
beneath the blankets and beneath the waves,
so that tomorrow's sun will rise.



fer s




the waves were crashing
in melodic succession,
while everyone stood silent
for nature's orchestra.

as the branches swayed
and the clouds swelled,
all our whispered secrets
dissolved into the sea.

the horizon drew orange, pink and red,
melting the air
and spilling on our cheeks,
like autumn leaves.

one by one, they jumped and fell
until only he remained,
still gazing inward
at a distant harmony.

so close was he,
fleeting shivers bound in limbs,
until her song lifted him too,
into the deep.



fer k&j


your presence beside me,
reminds me of a home,
i had long forgotten.

a distant memory of childhood
lays sensel in your eyes,
of when we wandered talking,
shy into the night.

the comfort of our stranded islands,
gentle shifting maise tectonics,
carries me through the dark.

We the drifting backwards,
returning slowly always,
to when i first glimpsed you.

SHORT STORY: GORDIACEA (draft i - incomplete)

"When the worm could grow no more, it released chemicals that took over the cricket's brain. The chemicals turned the water-fearing cricket into a suicidal diver seeking puddles or streams. As soon as the cricket hit water, the horsehair worm tensed its strong muscles, ripping through the cricket's body wall, and twisted free, leaving the plundered vessel to sink and die." - David George Haskell

In the outskirts of Phrygian capital city, Gordium -- 333 BCE.

The undulating horizon gave way to a city in the distance. The horse in steady forward momentum, brought the walls arising from the dust. Bare olive bushes scattered about him, as his horse stamped closer to the city-limits amidst a dry expanse. A gust of sand whirled his traveller's robes in a daise as he disembarked near a weathered clay hut. The old man watched through permanent wrinkles, as the traveller drank from a lung, tilting it entirely vertical for the few remaining drops.

The traveller introduced himself as Alexandros, and brought news of fire and conquest from the Eastern miles behind him. The old man nodded wearily, his hardened ears tiring from many years of diced politics. It was news that rose and fell like sand dunes in the wind, each passing caravan spoke of monuments built and pyramids crumbled. The traveller sighed, and requested water. The old man gazed toward the village centre, where the dirt path lead towards an ancient well.

Only a few townsfolk rustled among the shacks which lined the dusty worn road. The city stretched the backdrop of the town, like a mountain range of plain buildings and tall spires; ever in the distance and opaque beneath the humid yellow air. Small beads of sweat rolled over his cheekbones and down his bearded jawline, as the traveller waited patiently for the old man to rise. With a hushed rasp, the old man spoke as slowly as he walked.

The city in the distance was the capital Gordium, and was named after it's King, Gordias. Violently he ruled the city, until two weeks prior; when King Gordias succumbed to madness with suicide.

It is told that the horse he feasted on was the finest raised in all of Macedonia. Bred as a war horse, his flesh was strong and lean, sustained by the blood of many battles and harvested upon the death of his rider; the famous Paladin, Attis. The horse was slaughtered, broiled and spiced for King Gordias's sixth wedding banquet. The new bride was young Cybele, sister to the slain Paladin Attis; both sharing the same golden maize hair and eyes a sorrowful blue.

"With this rich wine, and proud meat, I toast to a thousand years of glory! May the Gods themselves be envious of my great metropolis, Gordium!" Roared the King at his marriage feast. The juices of the horse steak erupted in pulp red grease, as King Gordias's knife cut with greedy determination. His young bride sat to his left, with her head hung low, still in mourning of her handsome brother as the banquet hall cheered and bathed in clarimdous waterfalls of excess wine.

The madness came gradually, as if a seed in timid budding. For weeks, the king grinned gluttonously as he ate fat brahmen and exotic camel in celebration for his newest wife. He fucked her frantically with sweaty groans. Her agonized cries rippled throughout the merchant streets, as desperate blotches of ruby innocence dripped with each rising of the moon.

The traveller stopped and wiped his brows with his dusty robes. He looked up and squinted at the brazen sun. It was ceaselessly unforgiving in the shedding of its hazy swelter. The old man placed his leathery hands on the long bridge above the horse's muzzle. He felt the tired horse breath deeply, and calmly. The old man and the horse had travelled a great distance and their pulses beat in close rhythm.

The old man looked towards the well, and the city looming in the background. Both were closer now. The old man explained that Gordias was once a lithe and graceful young Prince. His dark locks as rich as his eager and youthful eyes. Prince Gordias's father was a just and firm king, who surrounded himself with a council of the wisest Philosophers. Prince Gordias feared his father during adolescence and rejected the idea of ruling in his place. He preferred to consume himself in the biology and astronomy taught by his guardian Philosopher, Diogenes of Sinope. He lost himself in the mystical folklore told by his mother, and proved worthy in athleticism, with a penchant for swift and intelligent tactics during wrestling. He laughed like a boy and learned like a scholar, he competed and grew tall as the wind lured in the rain and the sun rose humidly with every brisk cloud of locust.

The first fires erupted in the border villas of the far east. Messengers arrived bloody and exhausted with horror tales of skinning, rape and destruction. The council of Philosophers were at first sceptical and cautious with their attempts to grasp the situation. Tempered dialogue fell victim to heated debate as sunken, starving villagers from the eastern territories began to arrive in fleeing droves.