A Soldier of Fortune

I want to insist like my friend Mira.
I want to insist that because I seek, there is space to find.
I want to insist that by seeking, I will know when I find space.

And in this space there is an organic, genuine, wholly honest vitality.
This exuberant vigor to realize there is space- to be sought out, to learn in, from, with and then to know, and therefore a possibility to execute effectively something: fierce, poetic, audacious, earnest.....dare I claim: artistic?

I insist there is a space to create art in the way I see art because I am naming that I see.

Is my method sound?
My method has been seeking outward, and in this overabundance of stimuli and information and market in this great city, I forgot myself.
I sit in humble stillness to reflect and realize I am a soldier of fortune.

Walt Whitman said, "I loaf and invite my soul".

Owning my perception, knowing I am enough, seeing I have everything I need, is the first step in seeing how I am capable of giving to anyone else. How I can be capable to give cordially, artfully, compassionately, lovingly. Being vulnerable enough and giving unveils a balance.

Simple. It is from this stillness, I know I can see. And I see wonderful things. I want to insist of myself that I share my fortune.

I recall the poem by Rumi, 'Each Note'

Advice doesn't help lovers!
They're not the kind of mountain stream
you can build a dam across.

An intellectual doesn't know
what the drunk is feeling!

Don't try to figure
what those lost inside love
will do next!

Someone in charge would give up all his power,
if he caught one whiff of the wine-musk
from the room where the lovers
are doing who-knows-what!

One of them tries to dig a whole through a mountain.
One flees from academic honors.
One laughs at famous mustaches!

Life freezes if it doesn't get a taste
of this almond cake. The stars come up spinning
every night, bewildered in love.
They'd grow tired with that revolving,
if they weren't.
They'd say, "How long do we have to do this!"

God picks up the reed-flute world and blows.
Each note is a need coming through us,
a passion, a longing-pain.
Remember the lips
where the wind breath originated,
and let your note be clear.
Don't try to end it.
Be your note.
I'll show you how it is enough.

Go up on a roof at night
in this city of the soul.

Let everyone climb on their roofs
and sing their notes!

Sing loud!