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A Mystical Leaf of Sufi Afro Zen
ďGet your hot cocoa,Ē said the fat white chubby man, whose stomach protruded like a pregnant woman expecting.
ĒGet you hot cocoa,Ē he continued in his nasalized voice, ďit will warm your hands and your tonsils.Ē
Suddenly a man in a green hood grabbed him by his shirt and said ďyou can shove that hot cocoa up your ass mother fucker!Ē
He shoved chubby hard against the table where the hot cocoa pot stood.
The chubby white man hit his back hard on the table, and fell hard on the concrete.
Hot cocoa spilled on his face scalding his body.
I saw all or most of her farewell pictures she had taken with all of her colleagues on her My Space website. Goodbye to a company for almost 10 years of service.
I was not there and could not be, being thousands of miles away, separated by an entire ocean.
I looked deeper at the photos and realized how little I really knew about her and how little she probably knew about me.
After being together for more than four years,
I finally agree with what she used to always tell me.
Our marriage does not seem like a marriage.
An open concept, across the street from the University Hospital, across Colorado Boulevard lies open windows with lights that seem to emanate warmth and good feelings.
They leave their blinds open as though they donít care who looks in their windows, or they doubt people will look in because they respect their privacy.
I look into their windows because I am curious and because I have an artistic and surreal mind.
What did I expect to see through those windows and open blinds?
A woman who had just stepped out of the shower casting her towel away?
Thatís highly unlikelyÖ
I read about how some people who write say, "how they donít know what to say or write," and wind up writing gibberish that is completely dry and in need of some real stimulation.
Iím not going to lie, because I find myself in this position as well.
Ask yourself this question; why not write about your immediate surroundings?
In my case I could write about how Iím finding long cat hairs in the carpet where Iíve moved recently, or I could write about how thin the walls are here; so thin you could probably punch a hole in it.
08:16 Now at Starbucks coffeeshop.
She sits at a table talking to a white man flabbergasted. She has long black hair like an Asian woman, showing me her long slender legs under the table.
I donít want to look at her, by giving her the pleasure of attention she desires.
The guy she is with has demonic and satanic features in his face. He would play the part in a movie as the bad guy. He is willing to fork out any money he has for this woman and even sale all his property.
She has him by his balls.
I wanted to finish the last pages of 1000 Splendid Suns in a special place. That special place wound up being on the number 12 bus going southbound.
This was another canít put down book and was added to my list of favorite books read. This book put me in a trance like state, leaving an impression on my mind and soul after reading the last and final pages.
Later on I buy long grain rice and plain yoghurt for the dhal I plan to make.
Moved mostly all of my clothes and borrowed kitchen stuff for my new apartment.
I could hear the adhan being sounded at the exact moment I reached the front doors of the An-Nur Mosque for Friday prayers. This time the mosque was already crowded; last time everything was done quite late.
The entire sermon was done in Arabic and I find that my comprehension has to be done more with my being and spirit and what little Arabic I know.
After prayers are done I run into one of my colleagues from Morocco.
We wind up talking about the Quran and its different translations. I have translations in English, Spanish, French, Indonesian and Malay.
As I walk in the snow I see other footprints and realize that when we walk itís not in an exact straight line. Our feet turn slightly outward. I see cat prints and some weird bird prints in the snow also.
I think about trackers before there was FBI, CIA, or CSI and how trackers were able to find people and animals by studying tracks and other subtle signs on the natural landmarks such as shrubs, organic waste released from the body and so on.
No forensic science was needed and with the right intuition a murderer could be found.
More snow is coming down tonight and once again Iím running late to work. Normally I donít ask for rides and prefer taking the bus because I prefer to be independent and not ask anyone for anything.
In this case I thought I would be late, so I called Mr. X who seemed to give me the notion that he was not to happy about it. So I called a minute later and lied when I said the bus arrived.
Once I hung the phone up a bus I didnít expect arrived across the street. I ran and caught it.
I decide to stop at some library in the new area I live which is right next to the Police Station and the Fire Station. Itís a very small library on the third floor. Once Iím inside, I see a bunch of teenage kids and younger who seem to do more talking and less reading. The librarian said this was a public library.
I see Russian newspapers scattered on one table with Russian writing. I began to wonder how much influence the Russian mafia had on this library as the librarian was also Russian. I could tell by her accent.
Had some dream that I was in China again. I believe I was in Hong Kong from previous travels there. Some man was shot in the chest on some highway somewhere. I was trying to rush him to a hospital and was carrying him in my arms while running.
At one point his body was no longer a body but had become a mere bouquet of tulips which I was still running with in search of a near by hospital.
I remember the Chinese people looking at me and me asking for directions.
I received puzzled looks coupled with uncertainty.
If I would have known that making long distance calls to South East Asia from the United Snakes would cost me more than one dollar per minute, I would of never made one single phone call.
Because of these phone calls made to the places I had come to love, I found myself scrimping and scrapping with what little finances I had.
I guess these are the joys of life, having so little and striving to make the best of it.
Being faced with difficult decisions to make, pay the phone bill or the light bill.
Canned beans or raw?
Fell asleep several times throughout the night to add water to some navy beans that had been cooking since yesterday.
I have this dream where Iím in Mexico and Iím looking for the mezquita. The entire dream Iím speaking in espaŮol and Iím telling the people that Iím schooling at the Universidad de Guadalajara.
I remember all the money I had in my pocket was a $100 bill. A lot of people were asking me for money and I could not figure out why people thought I was rich. Later I saw some Latinas wearing what I thought were hijabs.
I use to laugh at those stop piracy videos; DVDís, music CDís and the such. I felt that the stop piracy videos were corny and a waste of time until I saw a bootleg copy of The Bourne Ultimatum. It was terrible.
I could barely hear the voices in the movie and the screen seemed to shake up and down. What was worst was that I could see the shadows of people moving as they got up from their seats or moved between aisles with their popcorn and drinks.
I will have to watch the Bourne Ultimatum in original format.
Employee and company parties have to be the worst parties that can ever be thrown, especially when alcohol is involved.
In Sun Tzuís Art of War treatise based on strategy, he states if you want to know a manís true heart, get him drunk.
I donít know why alcohol brings out what a person is harboring inside.
Sometimes it is hate, sometimes it is an infatuated love. I saw it all while at work.
Those who were not at work were in the ballroom getting drunk acting like fools and the way that drunkards act.
Glad I did not attend.
It was on CNN in the employee cafeteria, titled Islamís Holy Warriors. The documentary was mainly about Shiite Muslims who became suicide bombers also known as martyrs.
The mothers seemed to have an understanding that no ordinary mother could ever have.
They felt that the death of their sons was for a worthy cause.
I wondered how many people would die for what they believed in, to the point of exploding themselves with bombs.
How many people would do this for their president?
Perhaps itís easier to die for something you believe in when you realize its bigger than you.
There was decent food in the cafeteria tonight, though it has been months.
There was steamed salmon, edible rice, steamed cauliflower and broccoli cooked by a woman cook with special care.
Later on I fell asleep in stairwell 19 and had a dream that I was in Mecca. When I wake up I was in my living room.
I was awakened by some fly that was frantically trying to find its way out the apartment.
I was trying to figure out how it got in here to begin with.
No open windows or doors or any cracks in the wall.
A compliment left unsaid,
a desired action never performed,
good words never spoken,
not even written,
gone into oblivion.
You are not even living;
So set in your primal fears,
and your dark recitations in the void of
fear of being labeled as the fool,
while blindly hoping to be labeled;
as the warrior,
man of arms,
and presented with little certificates,
and awards wrapped in plastic,
like you are,
preventing that eternal ever lasting seed
to see a glimpse of life,
or to feel the Sun rays.
The moon shines tonight,
maybe not tomorrow.
I was walking down some street and thought if everyone believed in the same thing or had the same belief regarding a higher power, we would not have any problems. This would be heaven on Earth; every human being getting along with another human being.
Meanwhile after signing off from the internet, I log on to the galactic computer, also known as the Sun which is sending messages and broadcasts from other solar systems and galaxies.
Some reject the messages, while others accept it.
Rejection of the truth is like a plant rejecting water.
Eventually it will wither and die.
I watched Anand tonight, a movie spoken in Telegu which is another one of the dialects spoken in India.
It was a love story which had me asking questions regarding love as well.
I wondered how many weddings were called off on the day that the wedding date was announced.
Everyone is at the wedding,
the food is prepared,
and the musicians have fine tuned their instruments,
when suddenly without notice,
the bride or the groom
decides not to get married.
I thought about how much money, time, and energy was wasted, and how one decision can change almost everything.
In this dream I was on a bus and an Asian woman sat next to me. She put her left hand on my right leg and I put my right hand on her left leg.
The next thing I recall is that we were kissing, but the taste was bitter, then we were having sex on some carpet.
In the end I think she was a demon because her skin started to turn a green color.
I believe this dream occurred because of the movie I saw Anand, which features Hindu gods of all different sorts.
What did this mean?
I really resented that I had to go out so early in the morning to a mandatory CPR class. Even with my gloves on in the cold air, the cold managed to bite my fingers.
Many procedures have changed since the last time I had a CPR class.
Now you donít tilt your head back when you have a nose bleed, you simply pinch your nose really hard until the blood stops.
Chest compressions for CPR have increased as well.
There is so many compressions involved that you are bound to crack and break several ribs.
Whatís the next change?
It took an entire Sunday paper and a Russian newspaper I wanted to keep, in order to build a fire in the fireplace tonight. It was done with such difficulty that I wondered why forest fires seemed to be started so easily.
I enjoyed burning the business section of the newspaper and all those advertisements and classified sections.
The more I burned the newspapers, the more I felt like nothing really mattered anymore, rather it was politics, war, or the ups and downs of the stock market.
What really mattered was keeping this fire burning and keeping my body warm.
I was reading this book on Zen, where it states we will never find the perfect job or the perfect lifestyle, and even if we did find it; we would still try attaining what we thought was the next best perfect thing.
The problem with finding the perfect life is that we will find flaws in it, and seek something in our minds that we think is better than that.
It never occurred that things are perfect as they are in the present moment.
Whatever the situation may be, now is the perfect time.
The best thing is living now.
Snow doesn't come down hard like hail or rain, but enough snow was coming down to cause inches to pile on top of each other in less than one hour. I was fortunate to get a ride home from work.
I was informed that a Muslim woman would be getting a death sentence for smuggling something she didnít even know she was smuggling.
She was working for some so called business man who went under the guise of selling and importing and exporting artifacts.
What the woman didnít know is what was inside of the artifacts; nothing but pure cocaine.
I was typing on the computer when suddenly I saw a huge shadow move across the wall. When I looked behind me I saw nothing. I assumed it was a crow since I could hear them cawing outside.
I continued writing on the computer and saw another shadow. This time I thought maybe it was a mouse moving very fast out the corner of my eye.
This time I decided to face the window and sat for several minutes and finally solved the anomaly.
It was large patches of snow falling from the roof, which was melting from the Sun.
Finished the last pot of bean soup today. Is that exciting or what?
Later on after work I walk the sidewalks full of snow which is about two inches deep. What I need is a dog sled pulled by a pack of Huskies like in Alaska.
It's always a good feeling to get home indoors where it is considerably warmer.
Earlier while at work, I was so tired that I fell asleep inside of lost and found,
lost in my dreams I donít quite remember.
Read a few articles online about relationships and little pointers here and there to improve.
I called myself attempting to fast for 5 days drinking only water and almost fainted in the stairwell. I nearly dehydrated myself for not drinking enough water.
I read some more Zen precepts, where it states that our biggest illusion is the illusion of self, and the biggest addiction is gratifying the desires of this illusion that we call the self.
The precept is true.
I find myself guilty at the same time, believing that I am what I say I am when in truth what I truly am is beyond words, and descriptions.
We try desperately to fit categories.
I waited seven months for isteriku and binti to come here, which seemed like more than a year, and now that theyíre arrival is expected today at the Denver International Airport. Those seven months suddenly felt like a few minutes.
This is the bizarreness of the so called concept of time.
Everything was a mad rush for me and I was taught once again by the terrible disease called procrastination. It will kick you in the ass in the end.
Hesitation never got anyone to far in life or successfulness.
I arrive to the airport early, and now Iím waiting.
Iím glad to be with Isteriku and binti once again, giving my devoted attention to them, answering every question, fulfilling every small request.
It almost all seems too good to be true, but it allows me to get good rest and to make love once again out of the essence of time, this present and precious moment.
Have worked eight days straight with two more days to go. My perception and ideals of time have been completely distorted now, and Iím filled with doubts as to whether or not I will adjust.
Just get a cat, itíll settle your problems.
It was a spectacular evening. Mother and daughter met for the first time after more than four years. Isteriku met my ex and no dirty looks were cast at each other. The air was free from signs of hostility.
Later while driving, I saw a hawk soaring in the sky which was given the prestige of being just a bird.
ďNoÖitís not just a bird,Ē I stated, (but a sign) a sign that Iím not quite sure of.
Itís the last day of 2007 and Iím not making a big deal out of it.
A day is a day.
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