HOMEWORK
APRIL 21-27

Though sometimes it’s impossible to do the right thing, doing the half-right thing may be a viable option. Give an example from your own life:

Here lies my first time... taking on the positive outlook of a Rob Brezsny assignment. I find it quite fitting that it orbits around the mighty right. Being right has nothing to do with the torment or bliss shaped by the actions taken on the virtuous path. Righteousness, on the other hand, is a distinction that is acquired through a rainbow of morally high standards in action. Deeds that can break your sense of self in various fragile pressure points and leave your ego in pieces, in a mess of human remains that will loom over you at every crossroad. Doing the right thing is a never-ending effort to be true to and for others, even if that endeavour stabs you in the heart or mind. This said, doing the right thing can take a minute or a year and can involve the dissolution of self into the essence of a generation, a time and place.

Zeitgeist

When it comes to right and wrong, good and evil, the V2.4 combinations are endless. What can look fine to me might look wicked to someone else, making it difficult to find the juste milieu for anyone who has their heart in the right place.

A few months ago a puzzling email radiated my computer screen. It was from a dear friend who was experiencing a rough ride in her end of the world. What troubled me is that she never explained what the source of her pain was. My first reaction of course was to reply to the missive with questions and words of support, but she specifically asked me not to. She added to that request her concern for my safety, which fuelled her calculation.

What was left for me to do? Taking a plane was not part of the equation, unfortunately. I didn’t have the phone number of my pen pal so all I was left with was the choice to reply or not to the message. I felt I needed to reply, if not to inquire about the problem at least to let her know that I was now aware of her situation and that she was in my thoughts. But after much consideration I came to realise that sending those words to her meant comfort for me and for her, the possibility of a nightmare, or worse. Who could say?

Well the beauty here is, my dreamboat mentor, through this assignment flickers my intent to reach out to her without placing any risk on our communication. This is me, doing the half-right thing.


xox

Labels: confession, echo, Homework, secret

After all the heartache, I promised myself I would never eat another apple. There are other fruits in the garden.

One night, miss Holder tempted me out of the garden and into the jungle. The natives were wild, colourful and shared drinks and dances in a manner of ritual. She showed me the dance floor, it was everywhere around us. From side to side my head turned. My hands as birds and then like fish. To the front my left leg, soon gone to the back. Steps close to the fire, steps far from the shore. From side to side my heart flew and stopped on you, standing still like the trunk of a tree.

Your hair and clothes messed up with the night, your beard barely hiding your smiling lips, you kept breathing. Ignoring what had just fallen from the sky, you kept breathing like you were waiting for me to stop you with a bolt of lightning. My dance got slower, my eyes steady on the mark. I studied your language, I moved into mine.

Andre kept stepping forward. From side to side my head turned, only to return to you. Peter showed me all the tricks he was carrying in his bag. A quick look and you had disappeared. Wanted. Returned a few sparks before I could pronounce you missing. Tell me, who are you? Say anything you want over the noise that is not your voice. What’s your name? James. Sweet James, you are beautiful. From side to side the compliment fell, like my blood pressure. I disappeared.

With the sound of the river flowing to my ears, green grass between my fingers and blue eyes above my nose I found myself smiling. Who are you? Sweet James Grieve had come to save me. From under your coat, you pulled out a white flower. Before I could pronounce my love, you put it under water. From the river, you lifted the gift that would water my mouth back to life. A shiny red apple.

Labels: alarming truthness, beard, discovery, love, musical, notice the sign, secret

Here is my version of the sport:

Pronunciation: 'sE-kr&t
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French secré, secret, from Latin secretus, from past participle of secernere to separate, distinguish, from se- apart + cernere to sift






So, I think the next step is to tag someone else...

Someone?

Labels: 5, five, secret, Shanel, tagged