Thursday, 28 April 2011


I sat on some grass at the edge of a pond.
It was midnight.
Nostradamus was beside me smoking cigars with Fidel Castro.
In the wisps of tobacco were whispers of vague and unfulfilled prophecies
pronounced by blood, steal, and crumbling icons.
(They both looked pretty bad-ass in their black-leather jackets.)

Across the pond Foucault was busy dissecting things with a pen, the ghost of Kant, and a pair of spectacles.
But Buddha, who was seemingly unfazed by any external stimuli, including Krishna's purple dye, didn't seem to notice;
he was too busy staring intently at the fragrant lotus flowers blossoming at the edge of the pond.
Across from me there was someone wringing out a homespun cloth,
I squinted to see a bald and principled  man, Ghandiji, making salt, undisturbed by rippling water.
Splashing within the pond was Mother Teresa who was creating waves and blowing bubbles, her nun's habit was soaked but she looked childlike, happy, free, and surprisingly progressive.
Christopher Hitchens, saw her differently and was writing a book about it.

To no one's surprise a full moon appeared from behind some clouds -everything was illumined.
I borrowed Foucault's spectacles and was able to see that the grassy knolls,
stretching forever in every direction, were filled with people -
large crowds of pilgrims journeying to this humble pond: walking, running, and dancing across the fields.
I realized I was one of them, and my curiosity drove me to the waters edge.

In the center of the pond, undisturbed by Teresa's gaiety, were twelve stars
but conduits not sources of light.
A creature swam under these stars and reverent rumors of Leviathan rolled across the knolls.
It spiraled up and up and up from the depths of the pond.
It grew in size, Teresa laughed, Gandhi smiled, Fidel's jaw dropped, and the pilgrims clapped at the spectacle.
Teresa's waves were soon dwarfed by the tsunamis of Leviathan.
I approached the wisest and largest of creatures, now fully surfaced.
Her smile started an earthquake of laughter amongst those gathered, which was more the result of an effervescing joy than a knee-jerk reaction to a punch-line.
Her eyes were kind, bidding any to come to her, to embrace her, to love and be loved.
She was god-like but not a god yet the finest of creatures.

Perhaps because I was drunk from the rhythm of the place or maybe because the beauty of her eyes pillaged my judgment, I ran to her, and with remarkable stupidity jumped on her back, swinging my arms around her neck.
And with this, in an instance of playful levity she dove back into the pond.
I was submerged, my arms still tight around her neck, my world was suddenly changing.
It was out of my control and I didn't know where I was going.

With happy stoicism Buddha waved goodbye.

Book Consumption: What Were the Last Three Books that You Read?

What Were the Last Three Books that You Read?

Wednesday, 27 April 2011

Everything is Music

I woke up this morning and plugged my ears into their headphones:
It was bliss man,
just listening to music before class:
"Hello, I'm Johnny Cash";
I noticed I was different, I wanted to I did -I like running-
I jumped up on a cement wall and ran like heaven
and all these words just started hitting me,
stuff that I'm sure, no one had ever thought of
and would probably make me a millionaire or something
-it was amazing-
malfortunately, I forgot what the words were, but they were amazing!
(you'll have to trust me),
one thing I do remember thinking was that music,
music is everything and everything is music
and sure there is dissonance; disharmony, but it's all a song:
trees, atoms, stars, sex, Led Zeppelin, neural synapses, breath, sidewalk chalk, day dreams
and this unending sentence I am now writing
and creativity -even grammarians-
are all part of a larger narrative, a meta-narrative:
conduits of a single river; notes in the song of existence:
thinking this way made me dance,
which I think is pretty natural when the whole world is singing:

Saturday, 2 April 2011

The Element by Ken Robinson

In this episode I talk about Sir Ken Robinson's book "The Element". Foremost he is an advocate for creativity and finding one's passion. I don't typically read inspirational books and was more interested in this one because of it's critique of the school system but overall still enjoyed it. Ken Robinson has a lot of interesting things to say check him out:

I hope you found this to be useful, post your thoughts below, what do you think do schools stifle creativity?
Ps. Sorry about the sound, I'm looking to improve my recording quality soon.

Friday, 1 April 2011

What Were the Last Three Books that You Read?

Hi guys,
In a constant search for new books to enthrall myself with and an insatiable curiosity with what others are reading, I'm wondering what the last three books that you read were?

Here are mine:
1. The Element by Ken Robinson
2. Whitewash by Joseph Keon
3. Northwestern Wild Berries by J.E. Undrehill