Brock { Abroad }

Tsi-la is a healer from Israel. She is a spiritual mentor to me. We did the dishes together last night, or rather, the early hours of the morning. My roommate drapes over the couch, guitar clasped. Music lazily lolls like a lullaby. I actually imagine Tsi-la to be dreaming at the time.
The sink is filled with soap and hot water. Her two small and warm hands reach out into mine.

I sniff a bowl of sage placed next to two sunken candles. She smiles at me and looks into something much deeper than my eyes. When she laughs, she does it wholly. Viral vibrations bounce with buoyancy throughout the space. Her curly hair drapes over her long-lidded eyes. She holds my hands in hers and we speak into each other. Time passes elegantly. The rhythm is ritual. Tension is released everywhere, flowing into the space.
Energy is thick and our bodies are light and our smiles are wide. We hug.

I reach for the last pot. Finding myself empty-handed, a lullaby drifting over me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about simple living lately. It was this year, in fact, that I spent the majority of my time living with only the shirt on my back. Maybe I had a backpack now and then… It was also this year I spent the most time alone with myself; from solitude on a mountain to the solitude found in transient hotel rooms of new cities.. It’s been constant movement by plane, train, automobile, by foot and by ‘fiets!’ (What the Dutch refer to as a bicycle.)
After unpacking the last of my belongings… I look at the low coffee table my legs are propped up on to see an altar I have made. I put it together using the trinkets from my travels after reading about the Ancient Mayan tradition of young men who, after having taken a pilgrimage to the sea, return with shells, fruit, and stones to decorate their own altars. In latino culture, an altar is meant to protect a home, a way to remember people and places who have touched you in some way. They are a way to ritualize and center yourself in your space. It’s something I’ve been trying to attempt since I moved to this city of vice over two months ago.

Keep reading to learn more about what I keep on my altar. What’s on yours? Read the rest of this entry »

I came across this software while surfing ‘Springwise’ where I was once again avoiding my task of writing. Declaring: “your mind, a monkey,” Ommwriter creates a zen sensory experience allowing you to customize your moment of meditation in the sacred and sensual act of putting pen to paper. Whether you think you can really concentrate better and this brings the writer back to it’s true zen experience, you be the judge.

So, long ago, in a post entitled “Children Can Imagine Away Pain,” I wrote about a group of breakdancers I met under a parking garage on a rainy afternoon in Rotterdam. Well, I know a good find when I hear one; or smell, or taste, or see, or… well, you get the idea. The breakdancer named Henno introduced me to a friend who had started up an arts collective in Rotterdam under the name Bier en Brood
It was the solid gold of arts collectives. They were working towards community development through various workshops with youth, squatting a hangar near the port, and making radical art. There was only one problem, they were losing their space and had nowhere to go. I went to check out the collective myself and interview Koen, the mutual friend I’d been introduced to. It was there I heard about some radical ideas, mind-blowing art, and heart-wrenching stories. Although I was waiting to do this post once I got the video up, I am having some technical difficulties. So, the show must go on. Above is a shot of one of their many multi-faceted works. Check out the website to see more. I will also post the more detailed story that is being considered for publication in NL10, the Rotterdam City Pages, of sorts.