A wind is stirring from the East – the place of new beginnings, infinite possibility and choice.
Nothing anchors me in this time but my body.
I buy blackberries from Chile and onions from Peru. I can get everything from anywhere.What does it mean that I eat food grown from a totally different land and air than where I live? Am I a Peruvian, a Chilean, a North American or a Russian? I eat food I do not grow, harvest, prepare, or create.
The stock market falls…I knew it would.
The global market blankets investors like me who have no connection with growing food, with a false sense of physical security. I believe money will always feed me. I blind myself to the facts: Money is not food. Money is not life.
It is time to go inside….
The sun’s warmth feels good.
Breathing slowly and deeply feels good.
Outside, the picture I see -- of trees and green and sun --appears so calm and pretty.
My every action is rendered like fat -- to quantify its value, to identify what and how much can I consume? For what purpose? Of course! To entice me to consume more.
Pegged to data files, nailed into marketing slots that morph into images taking the shape of every hiddenfear and desire living in my reptilian brain.
I stand on the green grass in the center of a circle of palm trees in a public park where I do not have to pay a fee to choose to be. I breathe in deeply, feel my feet on the ground.
A price tag bar coded into everything. What is still free silently absorbs the oozing toxins and poisons created in production of mass quantitiesof stuff.
Billboards seduce me with sexual innuendo to mindlessly open my gullet wide to incorporateeverything. Must keep the stock market climbing.
Impossible not to grow Fat.
I ache for what is still free to cleanse itself of the taint of Human greed.
Ride a bike and you do not have to pay for parking or to work out at the gym.
Watch a flower bloom in the morning sun. Plunge the Body into the powerful pulse of ocean waves. Breathe Clean Air. Sit and walk upon Sweet Earth. Climb a mountain with the effort of my own buttocks.
Exchange a smile with a Stranger for no reason except to acknowledge our humanity.
Listen to the beating of my heart.
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