Contemplating the Eye of My Soul

I’ve been in love with this song for the last couple months or so. After yesterday’s reference to the cyst on my pineal gland, a tiny gland located in the middle of the brain that Descartes designated as “the seat of the soul,” it seemed this song would be a good fit. I’ve known the cyst was there for most of my life. Considering the vast amount of folklore and the traditions within many world religions regarding the third eye, mysticism, intuition, and communication with the divine, I’ve often wondered what impact this tiny cyst has on the eye of my soul. I’ll be meditating today with lapis lazuli–one of the many stones associated with the third eye–and then later…more dancing on the bed. La Sera‘s second full length album, Sees the Light, is set to be released on March 27. Enjoy.

Paradox No. 4

See how she empties
the vase, eats
the browned edges
of the festered
bindweed flowers.
This is her sacred disease,
this cyst on the eye of her soul,
this silence, an edible
stillness pushing her
toward a state of suffocation.
She is seized. Taken.
Overcome. All is still.
She takes these shards
and this water into her hands.
See the wound that falls
between the curve
of her hips. The browned edges
come up to bite her.
She sits locked. Petals fall.
Take these shards and this water,
these perfumed remains.
Break skin. Purify.

Dancing on My Bed

Some truly fantastic music for you to adore. Although this single was released in July 2010, Alex Winston’s amazing full length album is just finally out today. “Choice Notes” is on the full length debut “King Con” along with a mix of old and new songs by Winston. Like messages of life from the outside world. So happy it’s here, and that someone is creating incredible music about the multitude of quirky subcultures in America. Even better, just about all the tracks make me want to jump on my bed and dance with total abandon. Sometimes that sort of dancing is the best meditation ever.

Said the Tea Planter to His Daughter

I dreamed mosquito,
monkey tail, and rock.
In my mouth, a cloud.
When you sleep,
I am a boy journeying with you.
The stars do not shine,
only plug patches
of darkness.
I dreamed a wall of mountains,
a low plain, a plateau.
Along the lower slopes, the rainfall
cleanses the goatskin,
drenches the buffalo.
I dreamed oils,
mud houses,
a triangular pocket.
Live this way and try
to feel.
Fire turns to ash
under moon
and banyan tree.
Your fine hairs whisper
of love as your head
rests in my lap.