Smoke Songs

The evening rolls in hissing like an old steam engine. Its belly full of blackness, its mouth spewing impenetrable fog. Like a warm cloak I heard someone say. Yes, truly. Like a warm cloak which erases features and distinctions makes everything look the same. The ancient cloud from within which eveything is possible and nothing stays the same. Nothing is better and nothing worse. No distinctions and no separations. If we are all just one, isn't it possible we're just empty deep inside ? Empty like instruments ? The deepest human resonances are sound. The oldest human visions are smoke. So light a fire, inside or outside. Sing a song . We're one. I'll hear you.

Doors of Perception

What is life is not a series of random unconnected events, but a series of connected doors ? If the first door you open shows you two roads going on forever. But then you walk for a while, find other people walking beside you, along you, just not on your road. You talk, laugh, love, despair, cry and sometimes stop. Then you come to another door. You open it.Alone. You see two more roads, complete with everything you want. Need. Hope For. Familiar, but every so slightly different. You seem to be walking at a slightly higher elevation. The air's cleaner, the sunshine warmer.

But what if all the while, its your choices, creating an infinite set of doors? Just built for you ? And destroyed after you've left. And opening each door creates a brand new story, just for you? With angels and devils made from a cast bearing your name. A story that is told in the moment and is forgotten the moment it is told ?

And what if, all the while, you just been walking back home ? What if all roads, always lead home ? You do whatever your limited reason suggests, but you'll still end up at the same place finally : Home.

An infinite series of paths from here to home. Each path created the instant you choose a path. A person. A sacrifice. A life. What if free will is nothing more than the lowest form of decision ? The ones and zeros of life, decision is the fuel driving your life, and intuition is your guide ?

Would you stop to breathe the morning air if you knew there was no moment but this one ? Would you sacrifice love without letting know, if you knew that unspoken sacrifice is what brings you more love ?

Would you choose the long way home if your doors of perception were cleansed to show things as they truly are ?

Chapter 3: Perfect Calm in the Eye of the Storm

What if the centre of every experience is perfect ? Perfect silence. Perfect connect. Perfect synchonicity. Perfect calm. Life brings you to moments of unexpected lightness. The runner who paces someone he never met before, just to make sure her ranking doesn't slip. The friend who cannot stand straight for exhaustion after running 21 km, on the road , but walks far enough to express pride in you. We spend the first halves of our lives twisting ourselves into a small ball of fury. And the rest of our lives rolling through experiences and people. But sometimes, when the choices have been taken away, you see something remarkable. Strangers who care, from deep inside. Friends who see you as you are. Conversations you thought was between perfect friends but is between perfect strangers.Nights where the silence is a warm cloak .Beyond the darkness there is light. Below the waves there is depth. In the eye of the storm, there is perfect calm.

Chapter 2: Darkness in broad daylight

Somedays you wake up and realize, these days are like no other. The ocean is hissing in your face and the last of the anchors keeping you on top of the waves has just been cut by forces beyond reason. You do not have a map, nor do you see the stars which help you navigate. There is a pole star, that much you know. You've seen its shimmer and felt its clarity. But you are closer to the waves than to the stars. Days come and leave. People come. Then leave. You walk into the burning sun, but its so dark you need lightning just to see. Some days you wake up and realize you're in perfect darkness. The dream never ended. You woke into darkness in broad daylight.

Chapter 1: And The Geek Shall Inherit The Earth

You walk past the glass meeting room and can’t help take an extended gaze at the scene inside. One boyish man in his ill fitting jeans handling a marker and absently doodling on the whiteboard until he’s bright red and everyone else is quite bored. He’s making frantic filler noises to explain his point of view. “Well what I mean is..” “What I’m saying is..” The look on the face of the other people around the room is a universe by itself. One guy that colour of midnight has set his ringtone to a number reminiscent of dance bars. And it goes off on cue. Now we know how he spends his weekends. He goes off to talk to the credit card company who promises him everything for nothing. We can hear him arguing that he won’t submit.. It’s not logical. Energy is neither created not destroyed, but simply transferred. Money works in the same way. He will only sign up if he is being transferred to.

Another nominee for the award for socially handicapped is attempting to show his dexterity with the pen barrel and his finger motor control in an attempt to look cool. But he overdoes it and the pen rockets off and lands on the extra large conference table with a clatter. The girl sitting closest is not impressed. Mostly because she’s swaying precariously, out of lack of motor control of her eyelids. Just then one of the guys who’s been rocking his executive chair until he can he it squeak, hears it creak, is bowled over head first and lands up on the floor with all the elegance of a beached whale. The chair is no longer squeaking. It parted that gift to him in its dying moments. The meeting ends. Everyone is relieved the vice on their head has been loosened..

If knowledge is power, information is the shiny plug point. The Geek is plugged in to Information. But he’s plugged out of the Mains. Life..

Yeah, and the geek shall inherit the earth. The Lord cometh, and he’s carrying a Vaio.