haiku 26 Mar 2018

These moving temples
Blood and bone; thought and spirit
Treat them well - with joy

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

Tuesday morning’s dream

I was again in a house, but this one had lots of windows as well as blond beams of wood exposed to a bright blue sky above. Its roof was gone in places although I was confident in the structure’s overall integrity. I’d gotten to the house after climbing a steep hill, meaning that I had been climbing a steep hill and then found myself inside the house. Unlike in previous dreams, the house was not too scary, dark, or replete with series of ever-smaller doors I felt compelled to crawl through until I was squeezed in so tightly I could not move. I experienced the sensation that the house was moving or rolling as if floating on high seas. For some reason, I climbed up onto the roof, discovering it was a hybrid between hill and house. A Buddhist temple and other shrines stood on the roof’s peak, and as I was walking along it I wondered where the hill had gotten to. To my left were other buildings, a quaint town constructed in a medieval European style. To my right was the hill, an impossibly steep mountain shrouded in mist. I was running past the temple toward the shrines at the roof’s far end when I awoke back into full consciousness.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

fortunes and luck

At 4 in the morning was when my clock struck to signal a shift in my fortunes and luck. I'd sprung from the bed before it could sound twice and switched on the light-saving overhead lights then sat in the small room for maybe fifteen producing a paltry intermittent stream. With a five solid minutes I buffered my quest yet when I arrived just one other did rest and woke not in time to head out with the group which duly out toward the chauffeur did troop. With no cars in our way we sped through the dark and walked in while their local driver then parked and met with a manku (or monk, in this tongue) who brought out dry sarongs for everyone. Thus clad and all ready we made for the spouts and entered cold waters with nary a shout and opened our chakras and relaxed our souls and let ring our innermost balancing bowls. After those 5 outlets had washed us off good we changed into dry clothing in which we could sit for a long period down on the stones and pray to many gods in varying tones. We lifted our bare hands up to chackra 6, washed them in smoke rising from red incense sticks, then prayed once again but with flowers between our fingers which had been so recently cleaned. After that was done sat for meditation and two of us felt a powerful sensation of energies flowing in down out and through repeating and flashing with patterns we knew. Once finished we went then to view Shiva's rod, the rock and stone member of a mighty god, then left by a side-door the groomed temple grounds and reflected on all the knowledge we'd found. We sped back past rice-field and workshops for wood and sought out a café in bustling Ubud and made there new friends with a small group of men. They had on their chests round devices which blinked which caused us to wonder pause inspect and think and caused us to jump in the leader-dude's van and speed right back out to the country again. The price-point was high for what we would have got wherefore we did not buy anything on the spot but pledged to meet up with him a few days hence when passions had cooled and our minds were less dense. My nap didn't happen for now I must ride to find me a resto with decent Wi-Fi where I can complete a task started last week before my eyes flutter shut tired and weak.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥