he walk w/ a ragged ‘n rolled up sleep-bag on each shoulder. one act a blanket. one serve a mattress. just fetched them of his 24/7 storage locker. now seek the street-spot that seem least restless
sleep routine to he, routine practice. occasionally pedestrian (curiously) note the load… but then there’s that 24/7 car wash that each time he pass stare as: what this darling on?
'don’t worry,’ think blondyn, 'got this.’
he mean the sleep bags. true, he do. and tho knowing flow of night ever beyond him, trust spirit, heart, mind, only due to prove
while wash-crew idly watch on @ his immediate right, taxis cars wick'ly tear by on his immediate left, where West Side Highway fly urban circulation & beyond it, Intrepid War Ship
Intrepid War Ship — a once WWII Fighter, now Sea Air & Space Museum NYC. no matter what street he opt for ZZZ at, blondyn always make sure to catch his peek
Intrepid, he think, have to be, and be to be and be to be, and tho w/ his moments, he remember Intrepid good times hard times all in flux
first foremostly this we be after — beyond all desire / fantastic / senseless ecstatic , n0 substitute 4 the OM harmonics inspired of envisioning a true-to-truth adaptation of big picture framework experienced w/ realtime measure via serene
crystal clarity
and nop. don’t got. all part the work in progress — props of which but knick-knacks O rhythmic licks stitch’d together w/ elementary wonder
(we want Solution!)
and doesn’t matter however close or far we be collectively / individually / spiritually , so long as we’ve come to terms w/ The Resolve that the air we breathing inhale by ex respirating the life ∞ love pump of us… … .. . on point to onward spin Journey
and right now, having just done the Hudson Sunset Run is stretching on the rails @ Pier 84, beside a hun staring on Watercolor Majesty before us as talking on the phone ‘bout issues w/ the biz — credentials she got — her underpaid lot — and Corporate America that done her dirty wrong, yet subtly topp’d her off w/ the Blessing to capture this Beautious reason for it all…
(what = Enough?)
and b don’t judge — but seek to reiterate the Agassi + Mandela (AM) singularity of the matter —
everyone on the Journey! collectively / invidually / spiritually! , each yearning 4 Paradise yet 'quipped wit’ nothing but Presence
(embrace the Mystery!)
is there any other way to peace? o u babe? course naturally. (only) & when’s a Love to lend a Life to us and show how a huney do?
get back to me w/ certainty — meantime, Moving Day —
t'was mid-afternoon ~ 93 degrees air wethot humidity no breeze
nyc
@ Columbus Circle approximately, on return from a writing session had @ fordham university as fathoming on the decision to be made when heat hunger cosmic whirl of city goes like
ping!
he stops on the spot. blood starts simmering. boiling. temptations, connivingly arising. pressure points, arrested. adrenaline + cortisol stress hormone spectrum unleashed like vicious protein-venom, unwinding the logic w/ raging vengeance. circulation tightening.
temptation temptation you son of b*tch & botch’d on the spot, @ loss for what to do, yeah… it happen like that
and so there stood blondyn, frozen midafternoon via midsummer night heat w/ a trial @ hand & fantastically stuck as passerbys do so, wondering like:
“where he staring into?”
meanwhile deep breaths be had test well underway, out the midst of imagination, the Rubicon appears, Ring of Fire, about us, bound to be crossed, one way or another, changed forever —
fly or die moment.
deeper breaths be had. concrete jungle behind central park before. started walking. an unthinking automaton. unwilling to truly trust just walk walk walking in central park, & had a seat, meditation, aka, forwarding of all thought via One Direction
the practice has become regular, but the evil had hit hard. keep focus’d, anyhow on One Direction harder & harder longer still… minutes — hours — eternities go by, leaving us behind — til simultaneously like —
ping!
opened eyes. meditative focus, instilled lazar-like, even still — a tunnel of vision that sustains, in a strange way akin to permanence… right then a phrase, recited —
“I am the master of my fate— I am the captain of my soul—“
it occurs to him a new light on — the Way by which he’s going to see, hear, think — One Direction, like magically, the one and only way there be.
more images flash —
he thinks on the ‘Condensate,’ sign in his storage room crib strewn on the pipe that run across the room to the light.
he thinks 'to Condense’ and then, some more deeply on this place of living for nearly the past ~ 3 years
he hears —
onward
onward beyond this. he continues to think. sees difficulty. great challenge. but mind heart soul knows 4 real, now for certain the journey must go on…
onward
he remembers a passage from Andre Agassi, Open about the tennis pros’s meeting w/ Nelson Mandela—
“…Mandela talks about the road he’s traveled. He talks about the difficulty of all human journeys— and yet, he says, there is clarity and nobility in just being a journeyor. When he stops speaking, and takes his chair I know that my journey, compared with his, is nothing, and yet that’s not his point. Mandela is saying that every journey is important, and that no journey is impossible…”
no journey is impossible
and what’s more, it’s occurs to blondyn his particular journey, at the core isn’t even about him, but all that has yet to be — yet to come — all that remains to be created b/w us — a value that has yet to be proven… and what to prove?
onward
— the inner voice rings, and as so, something evolving beyond… a new sensibility… shrewd responsibility demanded of him— that’s always been demanded of him— yet never til now so wholesomely acknowledged
“why did it take so long?” — the Q that presents itself to b like Primetime Wonder, but it doesn’t matter — time, now. presence, be & w/ it, a newfound commitment to our journey beginning.
“…I am now more nearly a grown member of the human race…”
says Agassi
& so like that, it happened that yet another turn of the wheel changed blondyn’s state in a way with which he was unfamiliar, but nonetheless
open
and being open, the decision to deliver the journey
onward
beyond right / wrong however it go, do remember, it all happened a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
“I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul”
William Ernest Henley
———
woke up 2:30 AM 45th street, Hudson Terrace aware that I have to come to a decision & fast
the question, simply —
stability? or onward
yet landing the answer has been a conundrum of some measure, w/ so many jigsaw facets of scintillating aspect that it be enough to make 1 marvel w/ exceeding marvel as to whether we be assembling big picture, indeed or just by “mendelian ordering” experiencing a touch too much the shining…
hear me dear —
“stability”
suggests continuing along w/ the state of “livelihood” as is @ present — that is, continuing along like a slumdog streetchild in hell’s kitchen, nyc scraping by by and by w/ all daily affairs incorporated
“onward…”
(?) however, would be to basically “go beyond” — (?) to pursue the life ∞ love via the wind — storm — (?) that at any given moment be Manhattan.
starting anew sound frash. and yet starting @ 0 (…) can really hammer the mind, heart, spirit to the test…
given we’ve reviewed the pros / cons like a Sherlock by XL mag-glass, it’d be rather fairly exact to state that neither “opportunity” presents itself as hunky-dory rosy-poesy but all in all it’s like Yoda once said:
“always in motion, is the future…”
is our effort + intent sincere? what are we after and how come or what for? be it apt to consider the rest of the life-changes that hath appeared in our midst? is to do the “right thing” to do that which be more “logically” safe + sound, or does 1 inspire the heart-beat onward bound for discovery?
