There is a we here

There is a we here
that is not....
a 'we' that is

its embrace recognizes and welcomes
itself;

the insiders form a circle, and mouthpieces
proclaim platitudes of generic appreciation.

The circle is not for me--
neither do I crave it.
This is my sin.

There is a we here that is not....
a 'we' that is
Or maybe, there is a we here
that is
(an) US.

Thus I become
(a) them.

Triage makes you tired.....

Triage makes you tired if it's all you ever do
Pissed off, shaky, wired with no time for feeling blue
Caught up in the clamour, chasing down the clue
Triage makes you tired if it's all you ever do

Triage is seductive when it takes you by the hand
Surrounds you with its glamour, never boring, never bland
Relentlessly rewarding, something precious, something grand
Triage is seductive when it takes you by the hand

Triage is a minefield where no flowers ever grew
Discard a thousand cries for help and focus on a few
And claim that it's priorities that always make it through
Triage is a minefield where no flowers ever grew

Triage is a danger masquerading as demand
Silence is a stranger in this noisy, cluttered land
And reflection is your enemy until you take a stand
Triage is a danger masquerading as demand

Triage is a habit that can hold you by the throat
When you make a move to grab it, it will taunt you, it will gloat
And the context of its character is fortress with a moat
And the emptiest of vessels are the only things that float
And it takes a lot of push to move a heavy, hungry boat
Triage is a habit that can hold you by the throat

Triage makes you tired if it's all you ever do
You forget to be inspired by its colours or its hue
And you see the complex moving parts, but miss the larger view
And its face becomes a death mask from the poison in the brew
And you recognize the toxin in the words you thought you knew
And you realize this skill of yours is more than guts and glue
That it's not triage that's deadly, it's the hammer and the screw 
In that netherworld of double talk, bureaucracy and poo
Triage makes you tired if it's all you ever do

O (p) press I on

You are sitting at a desk-maybe your desk

Or a table-maybe your table.

Place your hands flat on top

Push hard on the surface

Count to ten

Do it again

Push hard with one hand and do another relatively easy or mundane task with the other hand

Count to ten

Do it again

Are you alone?

Place one hand and then the other on the surface, alternating

As if you are walking on your hands

As if your hands are walking

Make no noise

Do it ten times

Do it again

Are you alone?

Do the hand walking with more force, more noise, BUT DON’T RUSH

 Don’t compromise force for speed

Keep the pressure on…..

Are you alone?

Find a wall. Do it there. Two hands. Then one at a time.

Find another person

Do this side by side

Two hands

Then one at a time.

Now…. About this other person…..

Sit or stand face to face

Place hands against each other’s hands, palm to palm

Push into each other

Two hands, same time

Count to ten

Walking hands, alternating, against each other’s palms

Make no noise

Do it ten times

Practice pushing and yielding against each other

Only the hands

Make no noise

Do it ten times

Find another set of partners

Now you are four

Find a space in the centre of a room

Or go outside, find any open space

Imagine a giant box with a lid on a hinge….

It hangs open

It is your task to push it closed

Approach it as a group

Plan your timing

Gather round….

Open your hands

Push together

Push as if you were actually doing this work

Get under it, push, push

Push it up, now over

Now push it shut

One last push to be sure

Find a place / time to reflect on this

On pushing, pressing

Alone, with another, with a group

Was it exhausting? Exhilarating?

Is it something that becomes habit the more you do it?

Invisible in its familiarity?

It is something that makes its presence felt

Thrumming beneath the surface

Or off to the side?

Does the rhythm get into your blood?

Can you walk away because it left no impression?

(how)(what) Do you forget?

(how)(what) Do you remember?

That’s the question.

No Mud, No Lotus

one month
and one week
and more
and two more days
did I say days??
I meant DAZE
Dazed, is more like it.
AMAZEd at how busyshit tasks crowd
my landscape
fill my time
jangle and clang

How necessary they seem until I hold them in my
GAZE
that's right. Full bore full burn gaze.
Breathe
Breathe
I phase in and out
I wonder about
the ways the crazy haze
shimmers
beckons

For now, I will lean into this moment
endless stillness possible
SPACE
Put in the big rocks first.