Friday, January 21, 2011

Messages from the Cosmos, Sent January 21, 2011

Belated Merry Christmas and Happy Gregorian New Year, dear Cheesers!
I think I missed Diwali, Ramadan, and Samhain in my last cheeses, we had a Red Moon last month, we just had a Full Moon, and Chinese New Year is coming up, so let's throw all those in too.

Cheesers, as usual this stuff is long, so for those of you who usually only get halfway through, I ask that you skip to the end (marked with asterisks and capital letters) and read only the most important part, poems that two Cheesers sent in response to the Song of Silence, Hunger, and Heroes, in the last Sound Cheese. To those of you who always get through it all and write back with words of love, my gratitude always. To all, know that before I send cheese I go through the list and send heart love to each one, but will think nothing bad of anyone who wants off this crazy ship.

I'm back in Argentina after a couple months in Asia, helping my father move from Singapore to Pune. I was in Singapore helping my parents put things in boxes, in Pune helping them take things out of boxes, and briefly in Kerala to peck my grandparents on the cheek and fly off again. While the transition from Singapore to Pune had all the chaos and nail-biting and box-waiting and too-much-stuff-lamenting that any international move will involve, my dad's new situation in Pune seems most thoroughly excellent, not just for him, but for all living beings.

Near where we stayed while getting the house ready, one particular slum shack always caught my eye; I always felt like something interesting was happening there. The first time I went by I saw a woman pumping up and down on a bamboo pole, powering something I couldn't see, and a man kneeling on the ground, perpendicular to her, reading out loud from a piece of paper, perhaps a letter. As I walked on I saw that the thick flapping sheet that protected one side of their patchwork of tin and tarpaulin said, "Really Windy Apartments". At first I wondered if it was someone's idea of a joke. Later after seeing billboards and hearing about local green energy trends I figured it was an old advertisement for a new luxury apartment complex that uses wind generated electricity. The man and woman I saw might even have been on the construction team, carrying bricks for Really Windy Apartments, a symbol of the new progressive consciousness of the wealthy classes. (Only the woman would have carried bricks. The man would have been involved in more skilled labor). Maybe that's where they went shopping for their new wall. I returned to my original conclusion. The universe does indeed have a strange sense of humor. Just cross your fingers and hope you're on the better end of the slap stick.

Flying from Kerala to Pune through Madras (for those of you with enough Indian geography to shake your heads and roll your eyes at that) I sat in an airport contemplating the strange gigantic mind-boggling maya we've built for ourselves. As I got off the bus that drove us the 100m from the terminal to the plane, I saw on the side of a van, " ality Wins". I interpreted it as "Reality Wins", which I liked, but couldn't figure out what it might be a slogan for in this context. After a few blinks I replaced the missing "Re" with "Qu", which made more sense, within the constraints of aforementioned maya, but I still couldn't help feeling like the cosmos was trying to assure me things would all work out.

Several months ago in Bolson I saw a girl on the back of a motorbike with a backpack that said "I love nice people who make cool things." I loved it, though I wondered where it came from and why it was in english. I was still looking her way when we overtook them and she turned around and shared a conspiratorial grin with me, and I felt happy.

It clicked that that's exactly what Denali and I would say about our friends here. We know a ridiculous number of really nice people who make crazy cool things. That I later saw the same backpack on someone else in the city of Buenos Aires, which means it's just another nugget of the creative spirit gobbled up and coopted by the Maya of Mass Production, doesnt take away from the fact that I love nice people who make cool things, and that's why I'm here. I've found the life of magick and witches and wizards that I read about and daydreamed of as a little girl. I may even become one myself some day.

Meanwhile, the reason I'm here, in Blue Cheese cyber world, is because I've got nice people who make cool things all around the world. Like this.


Pam Olson wrote back to Sound Cheese:
"I especially liked the part about wearing sunshine on our hips, and leaving the gold and diamonds for the earth. Perhaps for children to find and collect and exclaim over and discard. Have you read Utopia? In that book, they knew the evils of greed unleashed by gold. They made their chamberpots out of it so that when foreigners came rapaciously looking for it, they just laughed and said, "What's your obsession with shit pots?"

It reminds me of a poem I composed recently but never fully wrote down:

The whole reason
we love emeralds
is because they reminds us
of sunlight
through trees.

The whole reason
we love diamonds
is because they reminds us
of a rainbow
in a waterfall.

The whole reason
we love sapphires
is because they remind us
of the bottomlessliving sea.

The whole reason
we love garnets
is because they remind us
of the sunset
through a glass of wine."

Harrison Gardner wrote:
"This is what I wrote after reading it.
Not necessarily meant for you but thought you might enjoy reading it.

My Dear one,J
ust as a husband and Wife,
Should know themselves,
Before offering themselves to each other
You should find strength in your roots
before the wave of the world rolls in.
In silence you will find your maker
In hunger you will find yourself
In finding them you will meet the world
What drug could induce a people
to value money more than their own life?
The irony is overwhelming.
What fog fills their sight?
In silence you will find your maker
In hunger you will find yourself
In finding them you will meet the world
We made the machine
that we try to escape
the "we" no longer sing in unison
The "we" are dividing by the Ganga herself
by love of wealth and love of life
One day I hope
to sit in the dark
with he who values
life over light
And we will drink to our success."


Pam, Harry, I've written them both into my little poetry book handmade by Linda, Denali's mom. Excited to share with you over a glass of wine some day (or mango juice).

End of cheese,
Endless love to each of you,
Ammu Malavika Mali Emu

-- *******************************************************************************Bringing down civilization is millions of different actions performedby millions of different people in millions of different places inmillions of different circumstances. It is everything from bearingwitness to beauty to bearing witness to suffering to bearing witnessto joy.Derrick Jensen. Endgame, Volume 1, The Problem of Civilization.(Chapter “Bringing Down Civilization Part 1, p. 252”)


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