Out in the Avenue, it’s early Friday night, a small town which was a jungle a couple hundred years ago. Civilization had spread its love across the globe. You can hear here, the high loud long squeak of the brakes of the autobuses, and the flapping mufflers of the young kids in their first cars, the tar jungle sounds of diesel engine tappets against the reverb radios, beeping horns, and congestion in the air; this new jungle breeze will blow for awhile and disappear along with the astecs, topecs, and the others. This is the way the world moves, in and out of time.

The cappuccino smooths out the squeaks so loud at times it hurts the ears, long and slow. Some people call this paradise, most don’t call it anything, just life, the people grew up here around the factory, the textile industry of a hundred years ago or so. We are staying in the palace of the factory for a few more weeks. The spirits are hiding within the walls. They talk of great labour and long dreams that were woven into the weave that spread across the land, was sold and bought and gave human life to this jungle. Things have changed. People walk by in their indifferences with little memory of the fabric that wove this town alive but just enough to remember where they came from and to respect the unseen spirits that float around their brains in the gray nights of the silent noice from within the streets.

These are the times of the famous epidemic, the great lie from the astronomically rich filtered down through the repetition machinery to the people. The people suffer, they have suffered, they will suffer, suffering is the sad way of the masses, the seduced intoxicated crowd. 

The dark home of the ones confined to the principals of light will walk on forever through these shadows of the past, for they are the saviours, the warriors of freedom sketched into the future as prophesized. The walls will crumple, the filthy rich will evaporate, the jungle will return, the people, they say, will love with truth in every breath.

Friday night cafe and the noice is shallow now, the cool breeze down thru the tunnel of the Rio Blanco is sending a thick chill thru the skin of my mind……….it’s time to move on.

Morning sun across the green and flowered lawn. Here i sit with a soft mind and and a troubled soul. I have been thinking about this for some time now. How come so many have fallen into the trap of the vacs syndrome and have stayed? I have known for decades that so many have an unsubstantiated respect for authority, wealth, capital letters attached to names, minds with facts for everything, metal-hearts full with sentiment, and gurus that know too much.

But the ultimate fall from grace for anyone is their undying belief that they can not fall. Far too many people think their thinking can resolve any issue they are presented with. How did people become so arrogant to feel they can know anything and they can never be manipulated into believing what is false? Possibly it is the altered states that have taught some of us of the vulnerability of the mind and to doubt everything? 

The slow conditioning has programmed the minds of humanity into believing that reason is the language of the gods, the truth of the universe and nature must abide by these laws. Inferior logical conclusions are rampant in the brains of humanity and therefore condemned to need an opinion; they rely on their superiors, experts whom many have sold their souls. A strategy well observed by the elite, so as to shape their will into the world. The masses are to blame, the wealthy powerful are to blame, most of humanity is asleep, we all have a hand in this mess.

To wake up to whatever is, is the only answer, investigate, use your brain, your mind and your heart, balance out the light with reflections of sincerity and the way shall follow.

I don’t know very much but neither does one need to know much to know that ‘knowing’ is transient. Understanding, comes and goes as well. So it is best, in order to truly have a glimpse of understanding one must surrender to the silent mind as often as the opportunity arises. There you may develop a taste for being aware without knowing and that alone, may pull you through those dark moments whereas too much knowledge may have torn your soul apart.

The evening has slipped into view and in a couple of hours we will go out with Alexandra and Juan to his uncles pizza restaurant and eat supper with some of his family. We had met a very lovely lady a few days ago whom has helped us in so many ways to establish ourselves in the community. Marianna had lived in Canada, Alberta and also China for a spell. An entrepreneur of sorts with a good heart and lots of tips to move us forward as we attempt to buy a car, find an apartment, we might even teach english. We are open to anything and welcome the help and friendship. 

By the morning, rain had dampened the landscape and i was feeling slightly off, knowing that i had over indulged. The food was one of those rare occurrences of the best pizza, pasta of a lifetime. The restaurant is in the heart of Orizaba, a very Itallian looking place, busy and with an authentic small home town atmosphere. Juan’s family were warm and made us feel at home, even with our lack of Spanish, this is the tradition of the Mexican people, friendly and accommodating. There were cousins and aunts all laughing and talking and sharing a great time. At one point a thousand or so motor bikes rode by on an adjacent road on a pilgrimage in honour of Our Lady of Guadalupe celebrated today Dec12 all over Mexico.

These traditions don’t happen in Canada. Canada has too many cultures all mixed into a low populated land cept for the large cities like Little Italy in Toronto and others and of course the province of Quebec but that still can’t compare to the vast uniformity of celebrations that occur here across the vast country of Mexico.

Went out and took some puddle pictures of the surrounding area and ended up on main street of the little town here of Rio Blanco at a cafe for a coffee. Sat there alone pondering over my life and thought back to thirty-five years ago when i was just down the road in Fortin De Las Flores, a beautiful little town with Rosa whom became my wife a few months later and soon after we headed for Canada, which is where she still is in Kitchener Ontario.

Here I am, here, strange the way the world turns always impermanent, always a fresh twist to the view to make it new.

Back in Mexico City

Came here to find a car. Long story. Not important. At Juans parents. They are gone away. Huge condo on the outskirts. Sasha and K are back at the Palace.

I am grateful i don’t have to travel around by bus and knapsack. Hopefully i will find a car tomorrow and get out of the city back to Rio Blanco. We will be there alone for a couple of weeks in the huge palace with Kachi our dog and one of their dogs Pito Porte. The two of them get along like siblings, off and on.

I have to admit that there is an underlining unsettling atmosphere in my mind. I can’t quite pinpoint it but it feels like what i might call an existentialist aungst. Some weird hidden fear of the unknown, out of the nature of the normalcy of my mind. I don’t pay it much attention. Things like this come and go, just another shedding of the infinite layers of skin the human mind has build up just to tear down. The collective thought-mind has developed eons of imaginary dimensions of endless terrains as real as reality. I met my mother last night in one of those dreams and we hugged each other so beautifully, so happy to feel each others presence. I awoke feeling warm in the soul. I don’t put much weight on this as anything else. I feel like an infinite wave brushing up against an eternal shore forever. I come and go, believe, discard, walk-on as far as the eye can see and than some.

In my best moments, i am free from the known. I walk with no truth dangling off my shoulders, no conclusions in the heels of my shoes, no fingers to point anywhere and a silent calm breath pure and perfect in every step. My worst moments finds a strangled up mind twisted around concepts weaving in and out of consciousness at warp speed with intense fear forming in every move.

Time passes always, nothing stands still for long in an open mind. Possibly that knowing keeps the dark-side tainted in some light. Sometimes the mind forgets and it takes a while for it to get back on the trail. Faith is all that exists in a mind that is free from the known. 

Faith is a knowing that is beyond or rudimentary, an understanding that is primordial, pre-thought, pre-percepts, akin to instinct with a conscious knowing, a faith that guides the inner-mind, the way of the spirit. Faith can not be described with a tool that can not comprehend it. It is before and after words. Faith is all that exists in a pure perfect mind. That is as close as i can get. This is so far from the truth, no more than a quarter of an inch of eternity.

Time, space, mind, thought, form. Is there a parallel source? Faith possibly!

A few days down the road….

Went to Mexico City with Juan and Alexandra to see a car to buy. With their connections and a lot of time and effort on their part i road away in a 2013 Renault, one owner, low k’s and a gem of a car for a very reasonable price. After an all day scenario i escaped the city from the north-west end of town, Friday mid-afternoon with a manual shift, low gas and my iPhone battery collapsing. I never made it out of town till close to seven pm, almost ran out of gas and couldn’t find a gas station and a OXXO or 7/11 to get a cigarette lighter USB to charge my phone for google maps. I hadn’t been in this kind of traffic for 35 years since i lived here in my wild youth with nothing but a few wrinkled up maps…….wow what a rush.

There was a segment of the highway on the outskirts of town that was four lanes and i was in the second from the left with many motor cycles whipping by on either side of me, weaving along the line that divides the lanes, crazy, but fantastic drivers. You had to be careful not to swerve to one side or the other as to cause a fatal accident. I just focused on sticking to the middle of my lane and let the nature of the Mexican drivers do their thing. I made it to the Factory Palace in Rio Blanco by 10ish. I passed, i am a Mexican driver again.

There were a few moments whereas you could see a sea of lights in the hills and valleys to make one aware of just how many people there are strewn across the globe in every nook and granny of this sacred earth. And with the devastating relationship that humans have caused the earth and as an example, our poor elephants, from observing a doc i had watched the night before, makes you almost sympathize with those super-elites conclusions to get the population down to 500 million with a 90% loss, dead, eliminated. I don’t know the answer really, but certainly it is not to play god and direct the world in some programable method. What insanity!

I tend to watch and swerve in and out of reality as a coyote does in and out of town and that’s good enough for me, for now.

It’s late and i awoke wondering about things. Will we stay or will we go, here or back north. We have time for now for the virus to settle down in the imagination and the real reality that seems so difficult to pin down, too nail to the journals of solid facts; i’ii just let it play out its will.

I remember loves that once sheltered my heart from the storms that swing in from the west and those blizzards that had clouded my head at times. If i could i would go back there in a flash. Let go of everything that seems so dear and travel once again free down that weary road of adventure. Possibly some might think that that is exactly what i have done and am doing. Not so, i say, not the way i see it. If you could feel my love, you would know, i’m a million light years from home.

I wish i could tell all the ones that were so dear to this mind of mine that i had loved them more than they will ever know, that i cared for them enough to spend days without food or water on mountains and valleys praying for their health, for their sanity, without them ever knowing of my trials and trails. I wish in vain for my enemies to know what love there is in a free mind, a mind that cares for all minds, all things, all of the unturned stones, the grandfathers and the mothers of all life. I wish for just one moment that i could feel this love, forever.

It’s late, it’s time to put down the pen, let the ink sleep awhile, possibly there will be a new day in the morning.

Images and writing by patrick wey

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