a tractor, a poem, a bag and some love

The small man

Builds cages for everyone 

He

Knows.

While the sage,

Who has to duck his head

When the moon is low,

Keeps dropping keys all night long

For the

Beautiful

Rowdy

Prisoners.

                                                                              --Hafiz

photo taken by the lovely kiara nagel in visalia, california a couple days ago 

the bag..

this bag has a bunch of stories. some about friends with hearts aflame and some about politics, food and community. and then some that reveal a funny thing.  

when i was in berlin i was overwhelmed by the cool in some ways and underwhelmed in others.  but one of the hipster trends that i saw perplexed me.  these cotton, often white, often thin, simple bags with a cool print or hip saying.  it didn’t make sense, if you need to walk in the rain it would get drench through or if you need to hop a fence the top is open and you too easily can loose everything.  it didn’t understand the choice.   i scoffed even as i mourned lose of the pretty (dysfunctional) bags.. cause they were pretty, oh so pretty.   as i noticed the white cotton bag on my shoulder today, the one i had been so enjoying, i realized again, i am who i rejected.  yes, not such a big deal in terms of a bag, but the pattern holds true when i judge what people choose or something they’ve said or how they said it or, well the list could go on.  often i will catch myself doing that very thing or hearing an echo in what i heard from the other. i am the other. you are me. i must continue to love the other better kinder deeper more.

before i go let me tell you just a little bit more about the bag.  you see it was a gift from robin and under tallarna.  perfect in timing, celebrating and simply right on, thank you. 

 and i love you all!

from the punk rock and soil yoga camp at under tallarna in järna, sweden 2014