Hero with Its Thousand Faces

So on my end. There is no love. No heart. Barely feelings. At peace with myself. No longer challenging being blue or white or green. Nothing. My time is expiring. And life is waiting. Today. Regardless of its expiration.

Now charting some change. The rataplan:

-> Connect
* With People
* Pursuing new dreams
+ Building ventures
= Innovating the way people live
= Pushing envelopes
= Creating something new.

-> Balance ego
* High learning opportunity

-> Success will follow

But I need time, to live, to be. Hero with Its Thousand Faces. Live it in full.

-> Things to test:
- I turn 31 on June 16, how is it possible that I have never been in love?
- How is it possible a drawer of mine as never been shared [ever!]?
- I want to create and then I sit on computers
- I want sun and I am summersed by clouds
- I want the ocean
- I need to create a masterpiece

-> Things to test:
- If I die today, I would not be happy
- If I die today, my life would go unmarked
- If I die today, I have nothing to show
- If I die today, it would likely take 2-3 days for someone to find out, perhaps longer
- If I die today, I have lived in mediocrity
- If I die today, my present is not right
- If I die today, I never got to test my genius

-> Ways to change:
- If I have 10 minutes to live, I would call my family, speak to my nieces, wish them everything
- If I have 1 week to live, publish my journals and paintings, party sessions, fly everyone I love in
- If I have 6 months to live, I would move to the ocean, paint the largest scale masterpiece
- If I have 1 year to live, cycle from London to Quito, interview humans "on love" along the way
- If I have 5 years to live, I would build a new venture, the Walker brand that disrupts it all
- If I have 10 years to live....

How to see life?
By constraining present?

Send me news.

A "ya" so high

At the corner of the triangular square, by the Grove's gardens, a silver lining. Minute, petite, forceful traveler of ages, she puts her hand near the wooden bench. Mold, green and humid in her hand. Taken directly to the side of trousers, oh so red. At seven, she woke, in the interiors of Louyang, was grabbed from her bed, and walked for times as long as incense can burn. Frost bite, decay, peaks of snow, and infinite rows of paddies in the way. She was given in secret a child's sword. Or well, she took it. And in that sword, lining. And in that lining, silver. And her reflection. Just as bright as this morning's shining. There, in the park, collected and together. Now 65. Now about to exercise. To expand a routine that can fiercely defeat rows of armies and fighters. A routine so rehearsed that lasts, if only, fourth fiver minutes. A routine were no word is uttered. A routine on grass, green, in the confines of British black steal. A cage so thin, unable to confine her lament, that very last "ya" as strong as the lament when her father died.

Sunderland Terrace

The man tranced as he walked out of the house. White London facades await him.
A street where bricks have petals and windows water. Before touching the street, in the garden of flowers, he caught a sniff of air, looking right and looking left, Sunderland Terrace, filled with Spring. How powerful to see the street spurt. And to see neighbours, walking, civilizedly to work. And then he tranced. There. "I must work," the notion seem inherited, the notion seemed to fit into the routine of the sprout in April, the breakfast table, but little else. He knew stepping on the street, he would walk, back upright, gaze determined, and fast pace. To sit on a bus. And commute. To work. Like a patriot. Like a citizen. Black iron balconies see him off, to his journey away from Sunderland. And he cannot help but turn, and catch the glimpse of the street. We have defeated it all. "I am expiring."

Blossom Bowl

The hands stretched out of the umbrella holding a touch of naughty strawberry. A bowl in a scent. Carried, in a light blue blossom container today. Around it, a wrapper of drops, rain, industrial rain, but clear. The kind the pavement likes. The kind that makes British pavement shine. And scent expanding, on the buzz and mumble of pubs and canteens in today's modern day, eclipsing the fast foodness of it all. Not today. No. London, out for lunch, husband and wife, and pudding. And on, across expansive bridges that made her feel important, cleansed, and warmer. War has ended, we have won? Literally: winter came to an end. Out of an umbrella, hands glaring on the sunglasses of the London lady, in her early thirties, her hands, everywhere, on the cobble corner, of the bridge. London, Spring.

At your Insistence

LHR Waiting Line - 03/01/2013

That both you and me talk. Unexpectedly. At your insistence.

In a bright, airy, beach museum. In that corner. That you corner me.

That you inquire. That I answer. That I tell you I have never been touch properly. Ever.

That a gap is there. Right in between chest and leg space.

And that I dont long at all. That I am just telling you. At your insistence.

Becase you asked.

And really, since when have there been any questions of this nature raised to me before?

Neva. Eva.

So feel at ease, and have me by the window. Have me there. At your insistence.

By inquisition or by touh. Both intrigue me, equally, and as much.

As long as Cat Power is playing. As long as you shut me up.

Really, no other way forward.

Look Like a Rat

Get to tha club. Look like a drowned harassed rat. Get to tha door. And phone me. I know you are coming. We need be blind dropping. That we can celebrate that circle. That little minute where and when it all collapses. Imagine, you the fool. Bring back the candor. The silence. The fog machine. The music. And the beats must go on. As we head on to nature and naked we meander. In tunnels. Tat is what we do anyway. Walking. Next to each other. In our humanity. That is so grand.

Chao - Mayan Dates

A story is starting as the world is ending. How unfair. Chaos around and yet no one there to hear it. By bits and pieces, it will all be recollected and one day understood again. The soil trace itself. That will be one day dry, beautiful, and with no wind in sight. No one will even suggest a different course of action. Everything must stop, spectacularly, everything must end.

The Mayans were right. And life shall continue to the next predicted end. We do not want to cease. Off we go. And I mean it. As I too spectacularly shall cease. Come to an end. Without wind. Spectacularly.

Resolutions

My 2013 is for:
diving
health
sport
relaxing.
Love.
Acting.
Improving appearance.
Dying?
Resting
Learning
Writing
New friends
LONDON
Different things
Sex
Entrepreneurship
Creating

It is February and I have delivered none. But first things first, the above mix wishes with actions. And a lot are not up to you. So, clean, up, think, organise, re-structure.

My Famous Last Words - After Vipassana

Hereford - UK - August 28, 2011

Today you sit under a tree. Like Buddha did. It is the end of the ten day course and you are now a Vipassana old studnt. Seeking nothing but equanimity. Nothing but true clarity and emergence of the hard hitting heavy patterns of mind that generate craving and missery. Silence being kept for a reason. Only 11 words uttered over 10 days. With a clean body you leave to your 29. Let's do this EC. Time to live thoroughly. And remember: equanimity, and awareness are tho things of your bird. Fly.

Estupideces

Instrucciones - Parte I

1. Bienvenido a casa. Relajate. Quitate los zapatos. No me busques. No estoy aqui.

2. Necesito que sigas las instrucciones en orden. No sueltes esta tarjeta. Es tu guia. Tenla en tu mano y llevala a medida que cumplas cada paso.

3. Ahora, comenzamos. Camina hacia la "refrigeradora" - sobre ella, encontraras una tarjeta con el #1 encima. Leela. Es para ti.

4. Cuando hayas terminado, sirvete un poco de champagne que esta en la mesa, sientate dos segundos, y piensa en mi. Lo que soy para ti. Y sea lo que sea. Dejate ir.

5. En el mueble de la sala, en el cajon, hay algo esperandote. Miralo y lee la Parte 2.

6. Te digo "gracias" pero eso no es suficiente. Cuanto te agradezco por todo. No puedo estar un dia mas aqui. Me tengo que ir.

7. En la tarjeta 3, en tu cuarto, junto a la orquidea esta todo. Me he marchado. No creo que te vuelva a ver.

Gracias por todo. De nuevo.