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January 3, 2010


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8:05 AM
January 3, 2010
The History of Peace on Earth


Every plant, 1000 details.
Woke up today, as if on a drug high.
Yesterday was to be a cleanup day.
I feel into the spell of PATO BANTON,
a new BEET KEEPER who joined
THE ENCHANTED GARDEN CLUB on
New Year's Eve. He was the headliner
in an enchanted evening that crossed
midnight. January 1 brought us all into a new decade
that could lead not only to 1212, but to
1000 years of Peace. I met Pato on the
eve of the Full Blue Moon lunar Eclipse.

I found him warm,
open, and a good listener, a man who
saw instantly something in what I was doing,
and who made time that evening to come
and Root His Dreams.

Yesterday, I began to listen to his music.
I was stunned by how it elevated me,
not only my spirit, but how it made my body
move. My Itune library, went from Pato
to the music on the CD called





I fell under the spell
of a Ugandan Tribe, 1000's of miles
away, in a place I will likely never visit.
I was enchanted by the sounds of their music,
by the longing for Tribe, my the yearning
for a nest to be filled with love,
for the sadness, that I have never in this life
had children of my own.

I am reminded that every notebook on my shelf,
every Seed Dream I extend into the Earth,
asks 1000 details. Each is a child.
Each Seed Dream born from Seed as a child.

I am being chastised this morning for spending
near an entire day yesterday exploring a fantasy
that possibly in some distant village, there was
a soul who too was praying for me.

Maybe there is a whole village praying for me.
I feel drawn to help this Tribe in any way I can.

Eva, my niece gave me, a copy of their music
months ago. The CD is called ABAYUDAYA:
MUSIC FROM THE JEWISH PEOPLE OF UGANDA.
It was only yesterday,that I for the first time,
really got into the joy of their Jewishness,
the specialness of how they had turned common prayers,
treadworn by everyday repeating into new vibrant melodies
and the passion of drums.

In my yearning for my lack of a safe home--here
where I live, in my yearning for a safe place
and in the world of Jewish thought
and practices that have felt distant and wounding,
I jumped into a village where Judaism was fighting
to survive against impending odds, modern day
oppression and genocide.

Through a remarkable series of events--many inspired
by a simple coffee plant growing in a pot in our front yard,
my creative mind went on a journey. I found myself
dancing in my chair, moving in new ways.

My head went back to a medal sculpture at the
WORLDBEAT CULTURAL CENTER New Year's Eve.
In this sculpture, hree Chasids
are lifting up another in a chair. The man in the chair
lifted high is holding up an outline of the United States.
God only knows what the artist meant. For me,
The Jewish people were blessing and holding high
the original vision of America, a land where all cultures
were safe to love and live together--
Ah, the Original American Dream--
The Dream of MARTIN LUTHER KING--
The Dream of so many others who went beyond
racial lines in spite of their own hurt and struggle
and often sacrifice of body itself.

Inside that Artwork--inside the Chasids holding up
freedom high, I placed an Altar of Dreams.
I made a Sacred space. During the Fall,
another idea had been planted,
a new spiritual movement, called HASEEDS,
a play on the words Chasids. Haseeds was intended
to be a movement of
many races united as one in the common thread
that we are all one Root, though many branches,
as a common beet bears many leaves.

On my God, I feel a sadness now.
Have I deserted my other Seed Dreams
in taking the time to play out Yesterday's fantasy
driven by yearnings from deep? Or am I to
forgive myself, and take time to honor
a day and feelings very precious.

I am reminded today that if I want
the Seed Dreams to root that I have already planted
in soil, I must tend them.

I am reminded that for every Seed Dream, there is one one
Seed. For every child, two seeds coming together, followed
by years and years of necessary tending.

I am reminded of the Lessons of Trees,
that have as many roots underground as they
do branches that we see.
I dedicate this Art this morning to you,
my friend.



















PLANT YOUR DREAM
BLOGS WRITTEN
JANUARY 2, 09

HOW DO WE GET FROM HERE TO THERE?
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ARE YOU READY FOR THIS NEW YEAR RITUAL?
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JOURNEY TOWARD THE TIPPING POINT
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