Retreat (Meditation on the Psalms: I) and Grand Canyon OM

walls

Colorado River, Grand Canyon, November 2009

I sought the valley of Ritu, where prayers are written on the mountainsides and adorn the bridges in colorful tatters; I sought the coffee fields of Manizales and the religion of a violent city; I sought the deepest canyon where the walls were made of your ten thousand faces.  Read More

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Currency

Prayer Piedra

Praying in Tayrona, Colombia

To sacrifice smarts for wisdom

Simplicity the gift, the dream of the ages

All these lines evolve into something greater than themselves

Greatness intrinsic to the word-seeds

If you could love a perfect prophet then you know love Read More

A Conversion

hunanpollution

Dark day in Hengyang, small city in the middle of China. Five million small. Mao Zedong from a nearby city. The dishwater sky blending right into the slate-gray outline of the industrial city. Dismal to view from the little metal balcony, and even more disgusting to go forth into the leaden din. Last time I was in the country I swore I’d never teach English and least of all to middle-schoolers. But that’s what I was doing in this city where I saw a homeless man masturbate in front of an elementary school. Right outside the gate through which passed hundreds of pigtails and oversized backpacks on tiny bodies. Read More

Source/El Origen

Word to the people of the world
It’s in the water, as a loving Father
Or a bodhisattva comes to us
From the skies, formed of his designs,
By gravity of grace, here to remind
Unblind, and hydrate all that has dried
Into a reality we face:

That if I speak liberate,
I could find my fate, taken and raped,
Locked up in a pool of lead acetate.

To hell wit dat, I don’t drink polluted words
Or spit what I heard, nah, I drink from the earth
Man it’s about the Mani, not the money
The OM, not the O-M-G and see,
Not tryin to be funny but this water’s so free
And flowin that I’m down here knowin it’s been Daddy-O spinnin
This Manikhorlo from the beginning and—Er Ree EE-e—
Scratch that, Big D(J), this Whee-ee-eel has
None nor end but I’s just wond-er-in’ the nature of the
Period, cuz every song has one and
The peak of this mountain, is covered in truth,
That melts~

So I go along with him, to follow his rhythm
Of the air, of the prayer, of this wild hair,

Of this word.

©Amaya Engleking, 2011

 

La palabra para la gente del mundo

Está en el agua

Como amoroso Papa

O una bodhisattva

Viene a nosotros

Desde los cielos

Hecha de sus diseños

Con la gravedad de la gracia

Para recordar, develar, hidratar

Todo lo que se ha secado

Hasta ser la realidad que enfrentamos:

Si yo hablo de “liberar”

Podria encontrar mi vida

Robada, violada, y encerrada

Con las llaves ya en el fondo del abismo.

Al diablo con eso

Yo no tomo palabras polucionadas

Ni escupo lo que yo he oido

No, yo las tomo del manantial

Sabe a Dios, no a dineros

A “OM” no “O-M-G ¡que escalandosos!”

Y no estoy tratando jugar

Sino que el agua es libre y corriente

Y estoy en la tierra yendo humildemente

Porque Mi Viejo ha girado

Esta gran rueda rezada

La manikorla y la mandala

Desde la primera palabra

La rueda sin principio y sin fin

Pero todavía me maravillo

De la naturaleza del punto

Porque cada canto tiene solo uno

Y la punta cima de esta montaña

Está cubierta de la verdad

Que se derrite

Porque todos la tomemos

Asi que yo fluyo

Sigiendo su ritmo

Derramondo alabanzas, lágrimas

Y palabras

 

© 2012, Amaya Engleking