the first of a flurry of vids on their way... part of a worldwide collaboration with hundreds of individuals and dozens of communities in 14 countries... credits forthcoming!
Homestays from Where There Be Dragons on Vimeo.
Monday, April 01, 2013
This is a year for giving:
clear-eyed, we become open-hearted.
Release tight-fisted lonelinesses
in group hugs, we encompass all our sick selves.
We surrender our wound-up and wounded insides into the earth,
the hoarded riches of our selves rushing into her warm embrace;
humbled to our knees,
vomiting and shitting out what we do not need
into ancient tunnels that take all into the sacred river
that accepts all pollution
and gives by giving up its own purity:
divinity come down down down to earth.
Likewise, we level our small selves to exhaustion
stretching ourselves thin to brittle breaking
so others may be full to brimming
and so fill our newfound emptiness grown in our expanded boundaries.
Freed from our own clutches,
we give ourselves a break, and give in to break-throughs
as we give way
to the sweet offerings of milk and smiles
we have so long denied our severe, separated and starved selves.
We give gods to ourselves, to each other,
to the caves and temples,
to the rice paddies and filthy alleys,
gods in cosmos-imbued stones and bowls and bells and paintings
and poems.
This is a year for joyfulness:
reveling in richnesses, we give the world permission to thrive.
We pardon our sad poverties for the suffering they heap upon simply being poor,
and extend a laughing hand to our haughty unhappiness, pulling it down
to roll around in the grass with us,
to smoke a joint in bed
and giddily watch the wow of the world in slow-motion.
We sit in pain and thank its power to unclench our head's fingers
from its hold on our souls,
so that we may spring rejoicing straight through our crowns
and into the ecstatic cosmos.
We dance in wild figures of eights intertwined: knots of infinities,
our feet blissfully making love with time and space
with that bee-bop ta-tha-ta dance,
with new stomp that unmakes existence as we know it
and the old drum that brings us back into the familiar beat
calling us to get back up to boogie back down,
to leap swimmingly into the air and down to the river like a homemade kite,
rejoicing in the breath of the moment
as a hungry child cries rejoicing in a mango out of season,
as a pilgrim cries rejoicing, after years of walking in exile,
in the sight of their spiritual home,
surrounded by their sisters and brothers
in that enraptured bliss born out of the blooming lotus of pain
that is holy joy.
This is a year for integrity:
becoming the change we hope for the world, we heal.
We practice what we preach, and only preach through practice.
We teach peace with every step, being imperfectly in the perfect moment:
ringing what bells still ring,
forgetting perfect offerings to perfect gods,
we know the crack that runs through everything
lets in the light which illuminates all.
We radicalize the interconnectedness of reality,
rooting down like the bodhi,
calmly stretching like her branches;
rhizoming out-up-in like ginger,
infusing our metabolic movement with his nodal energy.
We cognize, recognize, decognize and dive in to dissolve
those manifold manifestations of the multiverse
and find the buddha within as she smiles
in the passing stranger, praying and cursing,
in the filthy child with outstretched hand,
a hand asking to be held, a voice asking for change,
eyes demanding change,
presence requiring to be held in the same world as palaces for dead kings.
We contemplate,
we caress,
we cry out in yearning to integrate,
and slowly, with the care and calm of walking meditation,
of being held by the branches of aerially rooted trees,
of feeling out kora around high transcendence-striving temples,
we become whole.
clear-eyed, we become open-hearted.
Release tight-fisted lonelinesses
in group hugs, we encompass all our sick selves.
We surrender our wound-up and wounded insides into the earth,
the hoarded riches of our selves rushing into her warm embrace;
humbled to our knees,
vomiting and shitting out what we do not need
into ancient tunnels that take all into the sacred river
that accepts all pollution
and gives by giving up its own purity:
divinity come down down down to earth.
Likewise, we level our small selves to exhaustion
stretching ourselves thin to brittle breaking
so others may be full to brimming
and so fill our newfound emptiness grown in our expanded boundaries.
Freed from our own clutches,
we give ourselves a break, and give in to break-throughs
as we give way
to the sweet offerings of milk and smiles
we have so long denied our severe, separated and starved selves.
We give gods to ourselves, to each other,
to the caves and temples,
to the rice paddies and filthy alleys,
gods in cosmos-imbued stones and bowls and bells and paintings
and poems.
This is a year for joyfulness:
reveling in richnesses, we give the world permission to thrive.
We pardon our sad poverties for the suffering they heap upon simply being poor,
and extend a laughing hand to our haughty unhappiness, pulling it down
to roll around in the grass with us,
to smoke a joint in bed
and giddily watch the wow of the world in slow-motion.
We sit in pain and thank its power to unclench our head's fingers
from its hold on our souls,
so that we may spring rejoicing straight through our crowns
and into the ecstatic cosmos.
We dance in wild figures of eights intertwined: knots of infinities,
our feet blissfully making love with time and space
with that bee-bop ta-tha-ta dance,
with new stomp that unmakes existence as we know it
and the old drum that brings us back into the familiar beat
calling us to get back up to boogie back down,
to leap swimmingly into the air and down to the river like a homemade kite,
rejoicing in the breath of the moment
as a hungry child cries rejoicing in a mango out of season,
as a pilgrim cries rejoicing, after years of walking in exile,
in the sight of their spiritual home,
surrounded by their sisters and brothers
in that enraptured bliss born out of the blooming lotus of pain
that is holy joy.
This is a year for integrity:
becoming the change we hope for the world, we heal.
We practice what we preach, and only preach through practice.
We teach peace with every step, being imperfectly in the perfect moment:
ringing what bells still ring,
forgetting perfect offerings to perfect gods,
we know the crack that runs through everything
lets in the light which illuminates all.
We radicalize the interconnectedness of reality,
rooting down like the bodhi,
calmly stretching like her branches;
rhizoming out-up-in like ginger,
infusing our metabolic movement with his nodal energy.
We cognize, recognize, decognize and dive in to dissolve
those manifold manifestations of the multiverse
and find the buddha within as she smiles
in the passing stranger, praying and cursing,
in the filthy child with outstretched hand,
a hand asking to be held, a voice asking for change,
eyes demanding change,
presence requiring to be held in the same world as palaces for dead kings.
We contemplate,
we caress,
we cry out in yearning to integrate,
and slowly, with the care and calm of walking meditation,
of being held by the branches of aerially rooted trees,
of feeling out kora around high transcendence-striving temples,
we become whole.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Dragons Global Video Project
First fruits of my travels in Asia, and collaborations with good people worldwide... more to come!
This video was created entirely with images, words, and music recorded by Dragons students and instructors in collaboration with local communities (representing 15 countries) who shared their homes, temples, villages, families, music and presence with us. Over 100 contributors from around the world conspired to weave together the poetry and magic of this experimental collaboration, "Where There Be Dragons' Global Video Project."
Credits here
Where There Be Dragons Global Video Project from Where There Be Dragons on Vimeo.
This video was created entirely with images, words, and music recorded by Dragons students and instructors in collaboration with local communities (representing 15 countries) who shared their homes, temples, villages, families, music and presence with us. Over 100 contributors from around the world conspired to weave together the poetry and magic of this experimental collaboration, "Where There Be Dragons' Global Video Project."
Credits here
Wednesday, January 09, 2013
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Counting breath instead of minutes
Counting breath
instead of minutes,
air flows infinite
as you sit in it
adjusting mind to
spirit.
Epics-to-be sling
hooks of hope
at mind's great
tapestry;
the feeble weave of
consciousness
unravels, sends its
threads into cosmos.
Currents electric like
Northern Lights
carry crackle of
deep-night sparkle,
the bright cackal of
glee in silent dark peace:
it isn't me, I'm all,
empty.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Mi último videito, de una nueva novela argentina (muy recomendada). Jugando con voces, sonidos y fotos.
Memorias del Viento - una novela de Jorge Torres Zavaleta from Mateo Hinojosa on Vimeo.
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
Another Rebirth
There was, as there
always is,
the Fiery Moment:
You burst into flames
at the sight of the
Angel of Death
when she walked in
what was your front door,
pointed at you, then
out at the wide wild world.
Your denial died as
you drowned in her eyes
and saw your long-time
love in need
of more than you now provide.
Then, the Time of
Reeling:
stumbling, stunned,
eyes drowning
in the haze, mind
ablaze,
the Angel now came
cruel.
You clutched at your
chest (of fool's gold)
as her claws sank deep,
tearing away hard-won
hopes and fears - more fuel for the reblooming fire
And then, when all was
burnt into past, the Time of Ash:
in you and about you,
all fell apart
and you let the pieces
lie,
let wind and passersby
scatter the bits of you
in the land you once
called home, held as your own,
and bit by
irretrievable bit, you let it all go,
grieving the lost soul.
You would have walked
away to see fairer horizons...
but neither your legs
nor your eyes had survived.
Finally, the Time to
be Fallow:
pure presence of
emptiness
patience
stillness
surrender.
First you harden, then
slowly, selectively soften,
yielding to layers of
ash,
inhaling new nutrients.
Your deep earth
gathers unto itself fertility
for another rebirth.
Saturday, March 03, 2012
maybe you thought that
you'd decide
that there would be plans
to understand
but forget free will
or saving your hide
the world is taking
you for a ride
don't despair though, soul's
on your side
you've got the wiles, wares
and spirit
to do it, to see your
way though it
to let the path find
your feet and then move it
you've go the let go
to let the need flow
to let the dead breathe
some grow into seeds you know
to give earth to future
whispering come now and grow
you may not know how
but listen
just listen
Friday, February 24, 2012
dismembered
This steady hand belies dancing feet
skipping over rug pulled from under me
this serene smile hides a tortured heart
feeling the fabric of life being torn apart
and
yet... the whirling dispersal of the tatters
frame (and so reveal) what really matters:
not-so-far-off land to steward, love and trust,
earth whose form gives steps to this wild dance,
in spite of us
and
so... let me relax as the Earth quakes and cracks
let me flow as I lose track of rhythm and rhyme
and am dismembered from this place and time
to be remembered not as face but as deed
there where the whirl of the world deems fit to fill a need
skipping over rug pulled from under me
this serene smile hides a tortured heart
feeling the fabric of life being torn apart
and
yet... the whirling dispersal of the tatters
frame (and so reveal) what really matters:
not-so-far-off land to steward, love and trust,
earth whose form gives steps to this wild dance,
in spite of us
and
so... let me relax as the Earth quakes and cracks
let me flow as I lose track of rhythm and rhyme
and am dismembered from this place and time
to be remembered not as face but as deed
there where the whirl of the world deems fit to fill a need
Saturday, February 04, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
1 / 1 / 2012
oh Uruguay
I don’t know if we’re
at the beginning of the end
but still I want to
learn…
let me start by bowing
to your humility, to
your satisfied gaze
across oceans which you have not ruined
over continents you
aren’t trying to conquer
you calmly offer me
yerba mate so I may sip your same elixir
sharing without fear
that I might contaminate you with my diseases...
yes, I'm ill, sick
with fright that my people will kill the world,
stressed into a knot
that I am powerless to stop the apocalypse
that all it takes for
evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing...
yet convinced that I,
we, need to do-not-doing:
imagine the world
revolution if all our politicians, bankers, activists, teachers, welders, trash
collectors and soldiers were able to sit and meditate on the air that enters
and exits their permeable, impermanent bodies
if we could all just
gift ourselves a month to be at peace on the Uruguayan coast.
Thursday, December 08, 2011
the trailer for my forthcoming documentary (English version)
oh, and by the way, we're much in need of funds to finish this film... not much, just a couple thousand dollars to finish the animation, sound editing, and color correction. if you are, or you know, a generous supporter of the arts, please let it be known so we can get this film out into the world!
oh, and by the way, we're much in need of funds to finish this film... not much, just a couple thousand dollars to finish the animation, sound editing, and color correction. if you are, or you know, a generous supporter of the arts, please let it be known so we can get this film out into the world!
el trailer para mi documental que estrena en 2013
(versión original)
(versión original)
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