Day of imprisoned writers

People and places we have never heard of, still are people and places that are part of our world and part of our human family. We still are responsible to act non-violently on their behalf and speak out. Today, think of all the writers in prison, all the writers who have been murdered, just for speaking out. This year alone already 33 writers that Writers in Prison Committee of Pen knows of have been ruthlessly silenced. Free speech is a human right. And so is the integrity of the person.

I'll be off line till the end of next week. I am on the road and probably will learn a lot.

And by the way: Free all writers, free also Leonard Peltier.

Ahimsa: try not to harm what is alive.

Hair

I saw a girl today whose hair was wider than her hips...

Food for the soul

In one of the prettiest or at least most impressive streets of my town, an artist family holds a yearly literary salon. It is an honor to be invited because they manage to know and invite people who have read their work at Poetry International and other such places with a high degree of recognition. Seen the reading and explaining of how the work or collaboration between poets and graphic artists came about is done in their living room, everyone is very approachable and unpretentious so that real exchange is possible. Poetry was read in about six languages and then also some translations. Good food, good vibes, food for thought and the soul if we have one.

Storm

A skein of geese flies over. The leader pulls them west, north-west, straight into the storm, the gale winds over sea. What motivates them: are they training for the geese Olympic 'flying against the wind'? Are they thrill seekers? Or do they have a vision of a faraway pole with gentle winters? Other skeins decide to follow them and it becomes quite a trek. Maybe they are all just lost, at a loss as to where to go, what to do. So they fly. And so do I.

Free Tibet

Next to a bar two monks worked from Tuesday till Thursday night to create a mandala. Next to the noise and the high charged energy of a political world, was a heaven of meditation and tranquility. At the end, ceremoniously the sand painting is destroyed, effaced and the sand is distributed in tiny bags. It is beautiful and serene to watch the creation, to accept the ephemerity of things and to receive some of the sand on the top of one's head. Some of us were blessed with the reminder of tranquility, ahimsa and mindfulness. Buddhism as a path of life requires practice and rituals, reminding us of Dharma, the wheel of life and non-violence. These monks reminded us of the need of Tibet to be free so that this culture and teaching is not lost to the world. Free Tibet. Ahimsa.

Cannamella

Spookie is of two people trying kindly to give me a musical education. So I get to listen to lesser known, but good performers. Ensemble Cannamella is a group of recorders, dulcimer, lute, theorbe, clavichord and a traveling bell instrument. See the tiny instrument? That is the one. They also play the violin and my favorite of all times the viola da gamba. The music they chose was all by 17 century Flemish composers, or having stayed in the region for a while. The old folksong were sung by an excellent soprano. It was a light hearted evening about love and drinking wine in the pub and walking in gardens listening to the tweeting of birds and the calling of the cuckoo. All this in a recently renovated old church. Balm on a busy mind.

White

I have become a painter, strictly monochromatic, using different textures and shades of white. I have become a closet painter and might soon venture into some blacks and radiators... So my time between work and trying to get a flat done has been sparse and blogging to my chagrin has been neglected. The move to the eagle's nest with the stunning view is for the end of November or beginning of December depending on the availability of an outside lifts to hoist up to the 12th floor the stuff that doesn't fit in a small old elevator. When I asked one of the workers to help with getting the doors ready to paint since 'I couldn't get off some of the stuff', he replied, "Yes, now see, you are a woman, there is some difference yet..."