Posts by Dusty

“It’s All A Movie… “

I will tell you why I don’t go to movies, but you will think I am insane. Or you will take it personally. Or you will assume there is an audience in the clouds, judging your every thought.

So, shut up and listen.

All of life is a Movie. And all is exquisite. It’s full of Good Actors, Bad Actors, Actors who are Bad at acting Good, and those who are Good at acting Bad. And the stage is amazing. It is never the same for two days, two hours, or two moments. The light is superb, dramatic, unpredictable. Weather comes and goes. Flowers bloom in cracks where no one would imagine; dying trees cling to stormy cliffs above heaving oceans unnamed.

Lives begin and end, love comes and goes; the Spirit, the Sacred, the Essence of Life, inhabits the eyes, the voice, the song… then, like a quiet deer in the woods: gone. Never to return. Never to play at another theater… for 8 consecutive weeks or two consecutive seconds.

This is NOT a movie, yet, this is the most incredible movie.

And you ask me to sit in a theater, and look at past light projected on a screen – light that only mimics life? You ask me to spend ten dollars and two hours of irretrievable time?

And you ask me to look at actors – uncertain of who they are themselves – trying desperately to play a character dreamed up by someone’s overactive imagination?

So, you ask me to meditate on layers of façade, meticulously placed to trick my perceptions, to manipulate my emotions, to dull my own sensitivity and creativity … so that, for a very short time, in my unbelievably boring life, I can lose myself in a non-existent “hero’s life” with exploding cars, talking animals, and cozy, suburban romance in a house I could never afford?

And, all this fantasy and expense, and overwrought lighting effects, to bring to life someone else’s arbitrary myth, where their value system, their emotions, their sexuality, their world view, are superimposed – obliterating my worthless, mundane, empty, boring one — all for ten dollars and two hours of my irrevocable time?

Hmmm.

Tonight, I watched the only sunset that will ever occur on the only Monday, April 26th 2010 that will ever occur, and saw soft seagulls crying and smelled fragile cedars breathing, and walked silent footsteps through a sacred old forest, smiling and greeting the sweet and amazing human beings who passed me by. I may never see them again, but I saw them tonight.

This is my “movie” and this is my life.

It is the sweetest production ever made, and it only shows once.

The acting, the cinematography, the plot, the lighting, the location, the props … are totally amazing.

And … it’s free.

(but very, very expensive …)

You & I

I & You
We see Me Through
We build Skies of Blue
I & Me & You

You & Me
We see what we See
We Be, We Three
I & You & Me

You, Me & I
We Journey Thru the sky
We Try & Die & Fly
You & Me & I

I & You & Me & Us
Journey along on this Magic Bus
Don’t make much of a Nasty Fuss
I & You & Me & Us

You and I
Continue to Cry
Tears of Joy in One Eye
You & I
You & I

Box Office Slot

emerging
corners
conquests

we seek to rest in yesterday’s sun
we linger and lounge after the race is run
we picked the winners, but losing is fun

arrivals
departures
gateways

we lost all of what we know in a summer’s storm
the hands that cook dinner are the ones that keep us warm
in the midst of old secrets dying, one breath is being born

callings
schedules
seasons

lovers collapse in the arms of freedom captured
crows and car-alarms announce morning’s arrival, enraptured
and the traumatic aging of the day is seasoned with laughter

and we sit and we watch
from our box-office slots
in the morning after

This Small Version of Now

Everything happens “now”.
The Attention Span is “small”.
This Small ….

(as if you know what you want …)
You grew up around the block
on some different corner
but you didn’t really grow up
and all your friends
who were not really your friends anyway
all left for college or took a different train
and now it looks like rain
or it doesn’t quite feel the same
and you’re stuck with one curious umbrella
but you’re self-conscious, and get soaked instead.
and through foggy glasses, everything looks like home
but you feel so very alone
(is that friendship up ahead, or just a different colored bed?)
and you know they want your money
but it’s looking kind-of funny
like you’ve been playing “monopoly” too long
and sold Park Place for a song
and you still don’t know the Real Estate
where you belong
because all Life’s Love
is hidden in a simple song
(and that song is inside of you)
but the broken cookies and colored balloons
spoke too soon

and so, your attention span is small.
“This small”.
(as if you know what you want …)
This Want.
This Voice.
This Train that goes nowhere …
Except Home.

Everything happens “now”.

The Subtle

“The Subtle”.

This subject is not commonly addressed.
It is not commonly addressed, because it is not common Knowledge, it is known only by a few.

I talked with a friend the other day, about the depth of conversation. About the comfort-zone we achieve with another person in the context of dialogue.  One criteria we used was, how comfortable is a person “in their own skin”.   This quality speaks of a person’s relationship with Self.   The other parameter was a person’s relationship with Silence, how comfortable they are in entering Silence – again – in the context of dialogue.

So, talking and conversation occupy a whole range of human expression.

At one end of the scale, the “loud-mouth”, the one-way dialogue.  Or, the animated, self-centered “fluffy” conversation about the superficialities of life: often a nervous attempt to stave off the dreaded Tide Of Silence – as though Silence was a natural enemy, a cloaked vampire waiting at the door.

On the other end of the scale, people who somehow are at ease, both with Self and Other; people whose thoughtful pauses are conversations unto themselves.  People who convey entire manuscripts simply with a raised eyebrow, a soft smile, a deep resonance in their tone-of-voice.

These latter statements speak of people who are not only at peace with “Self”, but who also have a relationship with The Subtle – the invisible and humble counterpart of human existence that dwells in us all.  This counterpart has been described in many ways, has been burdened with many labels, name-tags and qualifiers over the ages.

We are not interested in adjectives.

We are interested in living in, celebrating and sharing the felt sense of this Inner Guest, this hidden counterpart.  We are interested in enjoying, manifesting, and realizing this felt sense, as a statement of a Life Lived.

When we share with other human beings, when we connect with others, we bring something of quality to the table. Something of the Taste of Silence.  The Fragrance of The Guest.  The celebration of the Subtle, in its Nameless Name, its Formless Form, and its enduring Beauty.

Of all human endeavors, this is one of the most worthy, the most honorable, the most sweet.