The Egyptian Maya

For the Mayans of my land, the concepts of time and the evolution of man was circular in nature. Evolution however, suggests resemblance to a more linear process. In fact, according to the teachings of the Tzolk'in, the linear and circular aspects are intertwined, revolving but never touching, always expanding, what the Hopi tribe have called the "spiral of emergence". From this point of consciousness, the Mayans were able to master a certain Cosmovision, which gave them great insight into the transformations that occur over great periods of time as well as the ability to, in some form, predict. To propose prophecy.

The Mayan Long Count, is a non-repeating calendar outlining great shifts on the earth scheduled to bring upon transformation at calculated points. It was created to keep track of events occurring too far apart for even one civilization to perceive. To master their understanding of natural time. Time being the realm of synchronicity. The circadian clock of the biosphere. Jaguar Priests. A great Sage: Pakal Votan

Enter, today, February 11, 2011.

Quite a beautiful day. Art is being created. A new awareness drenches us all. Revolution. Egypt.
The will of people bleach the streets with dignity, with respect, against all that is vile, corrupt and outdated. Rustic tyrannical leaders are bowing their heads against the greatness of purity. It was done peacefully. Carrying full understanding of their connectedness, without concern for lines of division. Their hearts open beyond the flesh, beyond this material world. They've become telepathic. Understanding what they must do together to ensure our collective survival and that of their children's children.

The solar tone for today is One, "Hun", the beginning of a new cycle, all things initiate and germinate from this source. This day is the 20th day of the "uinal" which is "Ahau". It represents the Sun, the light. A sign of completion. Embodying the final cycles of evolution. This day is ruled by "Xiuhtecuhtli", the God of Fire and Time. The ruler of the First day of the Trecena, the first Day and first Heaven of the Galactic underworld.

According to the Long Count, February 11th is the beginning of the Universal Underworld. It is defined as the level of evolution that currently influences the mind of human beings the most strongly. It is characterized by the elevation of consciousness and co-creation. Everyday from the start, the waves movement of energy brings about more right-brain energy, slowly propelling the ego-material driven paradigm that is western dominance on the world. Marking these leaps of human consciousness, and shift points in evolution, humans will gather all over the world, and express their freedom in celebration and joy. Sing songs in gratitude of this new power endowed in the hands of men and women by God.


Humanity is regaining its awareness that we all deserve to be free, live well and embody dignity as creatures of God's earth. Egypt's revolution is important on many levels, in particular the contrast of images shown compared to other freedom revolutions.
There is no point of description for the crowd, they are all unique. There is no violence. No hard party lines or ego-driven leaders.
Just thousands of people praying to God for the liberation of poor and oppressed people everywhere. The water canons blasted, their foreheads touched the ground. Others sought to kill, while they showed mercy. The underworld has risen from shallow waters to engulf our outerworld. It was inscripted thousands of years ago that today would hail a new dawn.

The empire humbled by love. Who said it could not occur? When did they say we had turned cold and stiff? Some of us have sensed the increasing heat from the hearts of men and women. Most of us did not believe it ourselves. But our souls have another will as strong as Egyptian resolve. They could not allow us to ignore them.

The term "underworld" might seem frightening for some, but I'd like to see it comforting. A warm embracing place where all that was hidden under the surface is now engulfing us in its own relief. A world of humble underdogs, forgiving warriors, happy fruit vendors, courageous youth, compassionate business men/women, tables for breaking bread, Art for saving others.


I'm not sure what this all means, but I thought I would share with you this moment where things seem to simultaneously end and begin. When world events and consciousness seem to point to ancient history, a pivotal present and an illuminating future in one day.

Who else to praise but the ONE who has been before the beginning and long after the end.

Allahuakbar.

The Urban Doula

Peace Upon You & Yourz

May What You Do Flow From You Like A River

I have recently chosen to embark on a journey guided by one of my elders and best friends, Barclay Mcmillain. He runs a program called LifeSong, a guided exploration of the voice that helps people discover, uncover or recover their singing voice through the unraveling of their story. The Voice Emergent transforms and heals through the power of sound.

Barclay is a former naval officer, teacher and radio broadcaster. He has been running programs like this since 1991, the same year my family and I came to Canada. He has won many awards including holding the distinguished Canadian Toastmasters award. His dissertation was called, "Dancing Voice, Moving Spirit". He blends life stories, voice and song into a healing mixture. He leads us through dangerous grounds, making us feel as safe as home.


I joined the program because in this society where Elders have been lacking around us as immigrants, his knowledge and guidance is irreplaceble. His great love of poetry and transformation, as well as our personal bond has made my heart jump out of my ribcage and palpitate on the ground. I would be a silly man if I did not take his helping hand in any situation. The elders hold vital instructions needed for the re-establishing of Calm Sense.


Last night, the group was asked to write out their 10-minute auto-biography. Needless to say, after the first brave volunteer sat in the center chair with all of us in a semi-circle, we all found out what 10 minutes wasnt.

Story after story, unbelievable circumstances were described, gut-wrenching pain and heartbreak was brought to the surface, inspiring moments of achievement and success were re-lived. Despite the massive age gap between some of the participants, all of us took a little over 20 to 25 minutes to point out the moments that have made us who we are.

One of the participants was a midwife, another participant mentioned an experience with her Doula that has influenced her massively. I couldn't help to notice that in the act of telling and listening, we were playing the role of safety keepers and comfort dwellers during a painful but courageous act of opening up.

Doula comes from the ancient word doule, meaning "woman slave". Knowing that ancient Greek was a patriarchal masculine society, I see the troubling implications of this origin, but through the lens of transformative recollections, I see the word slave as a triumpth for feminine submission to God and feminine power as a form of healing and birthing all of earth's creatures. If anyone is going to gently guide us through barbed wire state of minds - it is the heart of a woman.

The term Doula has traditionally been association with woman who provide non medical support during labor and birth. The extension and more complete definition would include the same type of support for any tramautic and life changing experience, be that a paralyzing injury, different forms of regenerative therapy or the terminally ill. Their job is to help lead the individual through excrutiating moments in their lives where it is difficult to keep hope with the circumstances.

I can't help to see that this uprising in my life of meeting Doulas reveals that during this time of revolution and evolution, the urban doula plays an important role in the awakening. Imagine one day you wake up and realize that every element in your life that was meant to give you meaning, is actually a lure or a trap made to squeeze dollars and production value from you. That all the things you work for, all the things and skills you've acquired, are now obselete. That all the sources of food that you've ever known are closed down permanently. That all your playful pleasures are now without joy, devoid of value. That what you have laboured tirelessly to construct and form has become another commodity discarded. That all of your possesions mean nothing in regards to feeling wealthy within yourself. The reading meter for your soul.

Global Transformation in this small world is a collective experience filled with as many smiles and deep breaths as there are screams of misery and gasps for life. The Urban Doula can help us move through the realization that in order for us to experience meaningful change that delivers more of a harmonic relationship with our earth, ensuring our survival, we must give up many priviledgess that most of us believe we cannot live without. This will be a traumatic experience.

Imagine taking the microphone away from Jagger. One foot from Lebron.
A hands from Balam. The internet from the blogger.
The fuel from the escalade. The borders from the Patriot.
The angst from a predator. Jersey shore from your sister.

Woman lost it for a while when Oprah went off air. Lucky for them,
Winfrey once had a special on the importance of Doulas.

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Through telling our stories, the distance between us can dissapear.
Without shame or blame.
We fight and recite.
The narratives help us rewrite our present moment.
The listener comforts the speaker with their silence.
With their open hearts, we don't need to say a word to
coach the practitioner through an agonizing revelation.

We are all, in some form, Urban Doulas.

Corn Kings

...
To the extent of open my eyes can get.
Sunrays coconut-crack the nebulous shadow of
The AM transition.
What of goonish nights ending up in
Squirmishes of nocturnal glory.
Sobreity is suspect. Hard to boil.
We play.

The infamous play twilight, bedsheets and wrappers.
Rappers on bedsheets.
Bellies grow full without streching guitar strings.
No sylvio, just tego.

Corn queens, January sunkisses
walnut necks with chestnut lips.
Attentive minds like nurses disguised
Spreading ecstasy
One kernel at a time.

Domes that teeter and borderline
Between angels and demons.
Dreams hot kettle steaming images
On-line streaming.
Hammer fists, tuff shoves and Nuff luv

What of those who left their thirst
For history years before they acquired
An insatiable one?

Soul-jahs looking for traces of Hunab Ku
At the bottom of the captains boot,
Hearts become empty bottles.
everyone raps.
While another Man gets his chest disinflated.
And yet more Goons vindicate their killer's spirit.
young men
Revert to being corn kings.

History is Now for All of Us...

"Even though you do not measure the hours of the day
as long or short, far or near, you can still call it
twelve hours. Because the sign of time's coming and
going are obvious, people do not doubt it. Although
they do not doubt it, they do not understand it.
Or when sentient beings doubt what they do not understand,
their doubt is not firmly fixed. Because of that, their past
doubts do not necessarily coincide with their present doubt.
Yet doubt itself is nothing but time."

Dogen - "Time Being"

Taking deep breaths, gazing at the nature of consciousness
as it unfolds up and down my body.
The clock no longer holds weight over my time.
Visions of molotov cocktails hidden in memories,
chanting, shields, rocks broken into smaller ones.
The cogs are looseing, the hands are falling apart.
Urgency as Air increases in density and prayers.
Water Canons, Hijabs, bloody lips. Freedom Mind.

Free me from these false hands of time.
Give me stillness. Deliver Forever so heavy to my eyelids
as if to begin a new History.