I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way. Whoever brought me here will have to take me Home.

Hi all,

I have been silent for a while. And needed to. When one goes through intense motions of transformation, ecstatic and beautiful as they are, privacy is of the essence. And as I come out again, transformed, renewed and refreshed, I am ready to talk.

New job, flourishing love, resolved heart injuries. Plenty on the plate, and all under one single omen: simplicity.

I will see you all next week end for practice at Chevron and NAC. And Copper and I are preparing, if things work out between my schedule and Pure's space, a string of amazing community events, and primarily a Yoga Trance Dance to celebrate the opportunities that arise out of this amazing crisis we are all navigating through.

Remember that Love is not the solution, but all there really is to anything.

F

All day
I think about it,
then at night
I say it.

"Where did I come from,
and what am I supposed
to be doing?"

I have no idea.

My soul is from elsewhere,
I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness
began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober.

Meanwhile, I'm like a bird
from another continent, siting in this aviary.

The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear, who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.

If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.

I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me Home.

This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

Shams Tabriz, if you would show your face to me again
I could flee, the imposition of this life.

- Rumi, version by Coleman Barks