Sunday, July 12, 2009

Copenhagen/Gothenburg/Stockholm






























I boarded the plane for Copenhagen having never been and not knowing a soul in the region. During my visit I met kindred spirits and made friends that I'm sure I will know for a lifetime. I thank God for the bravery it takes to step outside of one's comfort zone and explore. I thank Gordon Parks and Melvin Van Peebles for inspiration as an artist and for never allowing themselves to be categorized. This trip I dedicate to them. What an experience it was. There was the canal with jazz musician lining the board walk fronting restaurants serving Carlsberg and local foods. Street performers, families, yachts being manicured and painted and loved. The opera house and its grand architecture. The people on bicycles, the water, the daylight at 11:00pm. There was the song I played for my friend on a busy sidewalk in downtown Copenhagen, and the few kroners (local currency) I made and gave to a homeless woman who I am convinced is a reincarnate of Mother Teresa. The train ride to Gothenburg which was not by design but turned out being the highlight of my trip. A Michael Jackson tribute in a public park with people celebrating his life and legacy with music and dancing. Those of you who know me, know how huge this was for me. I am so grateful for my friends in Gothenburg for opening their home to me. The human spirit is an underestimated and powerful thing, it can heal and make whole. I look forward to more journeys and all those I'll meet along my path. I am truly a warrior of the light, and I meet fellow warriors along the way who all have a story to share and sometimes, bread and tea. Until the next adventure.

Self Realization

so the story goes and I've been told by the griots that as a newborn, I stirred my finger in my own after birth and smeared the doctors spectacles and began telling his future while sending up prayers for the forlorn and downtrodden. That my soul was old and before its time and place...my hands up as if against a minority report window suspended by string theories that only graze the surface of what would be my existence in this form, in this lifetime, my lifeline bends like light energy piercing the darkness of catacombs where lay entombed the bodies of my ancestors, but their spirits fresh on my breath as I spoke with their tongues in languages unknown to man.