Time Travel Journey Twins

I time traveled last night
i was where i am now but in a different time (and place)
inhabited by different people to now
and of a people that makes sense but dont makes sense for this island space
but in the current house i am living seems as if there was some kind of neighborhood open house. now you need to understand that this was taking place about four generations ago at the time of each generations birth, so think calculate back we talking what appears to be 1800 /1850 or so but it was not slavery, was not colonialism, it was more looking like middle eastern, ethiopian, israeili, indian, hebrew- people and compounds.which makes sense as I live in a traditional indian enclave and past estate...but what ethiopians, israelis and middle easterners doing in trinidad?

anyway...seems like there was some kind of gathering at my current land lot home. and i see two little indian children run out. in dark red tattered shirts that look like dresses but they were a boy and a girl, just that i never saw any more hair on the girl than the boy and i focused my eyesight on the boy, the little one on the left, but they were always side by side. as i wrote this the first time, i realized i might be talking of twins. So i wanted to see where and how they living to see if i can render any assistance. so i set about on a 'journey' it turns out. so i walk the neighborhood and walked south then west and ended up on a corner where an indian family was picking and sorting fruits right under the tree. a man and two women or three women i am not sure. and I stop and ask directions and describe the children and the told me to go east but i ended up being welcomed into the compound and a man was there amidst plenty flurry and movement and people and women , and he was clearly in charge but without much speaking, no instruction, no barking, everybody was already in their roles, forms and functions, but it was a cool scene. i know i was hosted and welcomed but cant remember or sense on what or how.. so i leave there and moving/ walking east , end up in another neighborhood...this one of high walls and locked gates like israel and ethiopia.

and i end up at a house compound that seemed to be a weigh or travel station intersection where people mingled and had some sort of low key market for it was that intersection i was to get a bus? Or travel further into another direction.. i seem to remember the road looked like a zimbabwean road-- covered in jacaranda or mature trees, but in this compound I was also hosted by the family, yes centered at a man and an extended family members and cores...and i remember walking about and watching the architecture and practices. the high walls had these cloth type tubings in colors that sealed the space between the walls and the roof. it was interesting.. anyway, i was led to this table, seems i was waiting or lollygagging..for the right transport to arrive..but i was led to this african lady selling beads and bracelets and earrings. and she was closing up but i asked her to show me her beads and she pulled all out and i/we selected beads for her to make me a bracelet and it was an odd colors and unique...i remember there was a black and tiger eye bronze type bead that was the head first color, then the last two i picked were peach corral and green. and i was very particular of how they were aligned and circled. and though she was to make it i never made arrangements to get it. and yet still, i was asking her to make my journey with me. i recognized that as a constant in my life. always seeking asking someone to 'come with me' from ever since. since 1987 when i asked nikki to move with me from delaware to alabama.

So i am on a journey, searching for twins of Indian Middle Eastern Ehtiopian paternity and nothing i see or plan makes me stop. I keep moving and going.

the dream was instructive too cause i felt upon waking i was being told something about the identities of people...indians, ethiopians and middle easterners (israelis and hebrews) were once all one people. from one clan

and there is no accident of this dream and Junia Vincent, is there?
twins? or twin soul flames?. ghost spirits? and the merging of male to female and back again. just being.

Good Journey Morning/

IBEJI!
did i conceive?

The Oglala Standing Bear Truths

[" Praise, flattery, exaggerated manners and fine, high-sounding words were no part of Lakota politeness. Excessive manners were put down as insincere, and the constant talker was considered rude and thoughtless. Conversation was never begun at once, or in a hurried manner.
Children were taught that true politeness was to be defined in actions rather than in words. They were never allowed to pass between the fire and the older person or a visitor, to speak while others were speaking, or to make fun of a crippled or disfigured person. If a child thoughtlessly tried to do so, a parent, in a quiet voice, immediately set him right.
Silence was meaningful with the Lakota, and his granting a space of silence before talking was done in the practice of true politeness and regardful of the rule that ‘thought comes before speech.’…and in the midst of sorrow, sickness, death or misfortune of any kind, and in the presence of the notable and great, silence was the mark of respect… strict observance of this tenet of good behavior was the reason, no doubt, for his being given the false characterization by the white man of being a stoic. He has been judged to be dumb, stupid, indifferent, and unfeeling.
We did not think of the great open plains, the beautiful rolling hills, the winding streams with tangled growth, as ‘wild’. Only to the white man was nature a ‘wilderness’ and only to him was it ‘infested’ with ‘wild’ animals and ‘savage’ people. To us it was tame. Earth was bountiful and we were surrounded with the blessings of the Great Mystery.
Kinship with all creatures of the earth, sky and water was a real and active principle. In the animal and bird world there existed a brotherly feeling that kept the Lakota safe among them. And so close did some of the Lakotas come to their feathered and furred friends that in true brotherhood they spoke a common tongue.
This concept of life and its relations was humanizing and gave to the Lakota an abiding love. It filled his being with the joy and mystery of living; it gave him reverence for all life; it made a place for all things in the scheme of existence with equal importance to all.
It was good for the skin to touch the earth, and the old people liked to remove their moccasins and walk with bare feet on the sacred earth… the old Indian still sits upon the earth instead of propping himself up and away from its life giving forces. For him, to sit or lie upon the ground is to be able to think more deeply and to feel more keenly. He can see more clearly into the mysteries of life and come closer in kinship to other lives about him.
Everything was possessed of personality, only differing from us in form. Knowledge was inherent in all things. The world was a library and its books were the stones, leaves, grass, brooks, and the birds and animals that shared, alike with us, the storms and blessings of earth. We learned to do what only the student of nature learns, and that was to feel beauty. We never railed at the storms, the furious winds, and the biting frosts and snows. To do so intensified human futility, so whatever came we adjusted ourselves, by more effort and energy if necessary, but without complaint.
…the old Lakota was wise. He knew that a man’s heart, away from nature, becomes hard; he knew that lack of respect for growing, living things soon led to lack of respect for humans, too. So he kept his children close to nature’s softening influence.
Civilization has been thrust upon me… and it has not added one whit to my love for truth, honesty, and generosity.
"]

~ Luther Standing Bear/
Oglala Lakota Sioux Chief

Guest Blog - RubadiriVictor on MarciaHenville - Trinidad

 BOLDLY GOING WHERE NO MAN HAS GONE BEFORE...

 


NO! The shock of Marcia’s death under obviously violent and strange circumstances is compounded for me by the numbness that arrives right after.  Like a sneaking feeling that ‘this too is expected’…

It was always her working class British perceptiveness about and intolerance for class snobbery and pretension that riled Marcia to action. She could not take that Trini VVIP status crap- finding it especially absurd that we Trinis should be practicing these stupidities with so much abandon in an ex-colony amongst mostly red, black, and brown people… She was a committed journalist first- but then something happened to Marcia, and she switched on- deciding to be completely and wholly herself. To pursue secret passions to the fullest. In all their personal, eccentric, and flamboyant glory.  So Marcia became journalist-as-activist… And a hardcore full-blown British 1970s Punk- Mohawk, studs, coloured hair, rakish thumbed-nose attitude and all. And she started getting the business done! She started descending into the heart of our darkness (into one quadrant of many aortas) and kept bringing back missives of injustice and the realities of these grimy streets… She was boldly going where no man had gone before. At least no mainstream journalist... She made us watch, confront the truth of marginalized lives, and in so doing gave validation to the lives and struggles of the urban poor and disenfranchised. And she sought redress for them. She was not perfect- but who is? She was working on it…

And now this…

What gets me about Trinidad now at ground zero is that the ‘madness in the air’ that is resulting in these seemingly endless surreal murders, ‘accidents’, and compounding tragedies is a symptom of a community that has gone off the deep end and is now living an unexamined, uncontrolled life of Extremes. Extreme Consumption. Extreme Greed and Corruption. Extreme Rage. Extreme Hate and Ignorance. Extreme Violence to Beauty, Mind, Heart, and Spirit- and finally Body…

This atmosphere of freefall and ‘free-for-all’ did not begin with this administration- although they have exacerbated it enormously. It is a darkness that has been advancing for some time. We are falling now because we never stopped the car to find out what that noise was under the chassis. And we knew the brakes were bad. And the gears used to stick. We are falling because of the unanswered questions about ourselves: the unexamined lives of our incest and rapes; our petty and large corruptions; our class, colour, and race issues; our small-island self-hate; our massive narco-economy and its sheltered kingpins; our uncharitable elites; and our social, infrastructural, and economic problems resulting from ignorant, petty, and incompetent politicians and Public Servants we have sheltered and are too lazy to deal with…

We turned our back, but the Beast never stopped advancing…

Because of decades of these things going unchecked we are now at a place of Pandemonium- where up is down, left is right, and all kinds of extreme absurdity can happen. And does! A wheelchair assassin appears and escapes the police right after 2 police assault a wheelchair man in plain view of the public and cameras; a man from North attempts to steal a PTSC bus in South; a $50 million fraud is committed normel normel; a UWI drop-out reaps a forest of weed in his apartment; a Minister is implicated in an assassination plot and a love quadrangle with a DJ and a sports hero right after being embroiled in a corruption scandal worth hundreds of millions; Ministers are accused by several separate people of assassination attempts- one of which is the sickening assassination of a beloved Senior Counsel; murders of increasing boldness and lunacy spiral out of control- children and grandmothers, decapitations, murders and shoot-outs on prime-time TV…  No headline now is too absurd, no new revelation can surprise…

In the midst of this ripping apart of logic and the bonds of a thing called ‘normalcy’- trying to hold, keep, weave, and stitch the fabric back together are a handful of activists and civil society organisations… This bedraggled few are attempting to repair damage, sew and deploy a parachute, and maintain a focus on the real problems responsible for our madness. All at the same time. Amidst the smoke screens and red-herrings of PNM vs UNC a committed few are pursuing the real engineering problems of the national car: lack of a real Public Procurement Policy to regulate the use of Public Funds; lack of a Children’s Authority to oversee issues regarding the rearing of children; lack of a Gender Policy to engage issues of gender equity and the reality of female abuse; lack of policies, institutions, and enablers for the Dreamers , Artists, and the creative spirit of our people; lack of redress for historically dis-advantaged communities; and lack of progressive interventions in East Port of Spain and in collapsing urban communities island-wide…

In this failure of government, in the absence of an enlightened elite, in the boundary-less land of Extremes that emerges when there are no sane checks and balances, Trojans like Marcia emerge. With all their complexities…

Marcia was someone who plunged straight into the maelstrom of that Extremity- being inhabited by some of it herself! And she was good because she made us acknowledge it and because she was finding ways to restore some balance at the nether edges. She began a crusade to bring back tales from the fringes. A fringe that is really our Centre. But how are we to know direction and location in a Land without boundaries?...

Now she’s gone.

The savagery of her end is a mirror up to the savagery of our present. And that savagery is now an increasing norm. Years ago I said:
"As above, so below. As within, so without. The love we as Trinidadians do not give ourselves is the same lovelessness that is returned to us by the soul-less boys now running rampant. The savagery with which we have dealt with our best is the savagery now being returned to us by our worst.”
Our failure to honour the phenomenal Gifts we have been given is now being paid back to us by the crowning of our worst. Take dat!!! In the last 20 years especially we have presided over the neglect and wasting down of: our heroic Ancestors; our genius Elders; our precious cultural Traditions and Legacies; our beautiful buildings and sacred sites; our financial and cultural riches beyond belief… To the point of collapse. All blessings squandered. All Gifts dis-respected.

When you are given so much and spit on it so ungratefully you reap the vengeance of Moko on yourself. And that is what we are living through now…

Marcia’s loss marks yet another scattering blow to Civil Society- that Rosary bead of NGOs and under-resourced citizen-led institutions that actually fulfill the role of government and an enlightened elite… She joins the ranks of the fallen: Dennis Pantin. Norris Deonarine. Pat Bishop. Teddy Belgrave. Professor Julian Kenny. Michael Als. Peter Harris the archaeologist- and dozens of grassroots activists that have paid with their lives in our mean streets... Any one of these people is worth more than 50 politicians… Somehow we must grieve and remember them, rally again, and commit the best revenge possible: we must continue in the name of these blessed Departed and win back the country from the darkness, pen the ‘Feral Elites’, put down the rampaging Principalities and Powers, and exorcise the shadowy  Spiritual wickedness in high and low places…

REST IN PEACE MARCIA. THE MESSAGE IS CLEAR. WE HERE HAVE WORK TO DO…

i did not know where else to put this

http://likes.com/relationships/10-best-sex-positions-for-getting-pregnant?upsell=1&v=129lWYdMjcKNwz8hAJSen7Y41ycVkw0gk

and i have not written anything here since the new year? scandalous