X – W A L K

•

•

This is where they say it landed, one can still feel the heat emanating from the concrete and asphalt below, yeah, this is the spot all right. The mind wanders and seems to get hazy, what if it’s radioactive here? … hmm…radio is not what it used to be anyway, and the older I get, the less active I am, so why worry?

The spot almost feels religious, getting here is called the X-Walk, but this little pink marker surround by a halo of red seems to be all the info the authorities left behind. This spot is not officially recognized and for all practical reasons, does not really exist, but, like a secret pilgrimage place that beckons, they come to see for themselves, is this true, have they arrived, is this for real?

Some are calling this the pink deity of the streets, it speaks of events yet to come, yet all I can hear is what has already transpired. A new age, a new street, a short cut, a cut lip, a new way for lips to walk, a new way of seeing through other senses, perhaps via organic limbic fiber optics reaching speeds that boggle the mind but never actually uses it or even needs it. It is a sign with a hidden message, some secret or code to be unearthed, yet all I hear is the cries of all those left behind. Progress, yeah, heard that before, rated X, like anything deemed inappropriate viewing for those not mature enough to walk the streets to come.

It’s my walk, the single street that I’ve been on for some time now, it’s where I’m going and most likely the place I’ve always been. No stop signs, nothing yellow containing the message yield on it, just open space, the type between chapters, paragraphs, lines and letters … and somebody marked the spot, the space between, a contradiction in terms really, but could it be any other way?

r e v o l u t i o n • e v o l u t i o n

•

•

When I was a young man trying to understand my place in the world, it was greatly informed by the culture around me in the streets of Detroit. I could either accept the Polish/Catholic/American working class heritage I was born into, or I could rebel against it by accepting the counter-culture vision that was alive in that day.

I chose to rebel.

That rebellion led to a local rock scene that was heavily politicized by Poet/Writer John Sinclair and the band he managed, the MC5. I believed that the youth of that day was going to revolutionize the world we lived in, by kicking out gross Capitalism, out dated religious values, corrupt politics, imperialism and wars overseas and the laws/social mores that no longer served the new enlightenment of the day. It was an amazing short lived mental/physical revolution that took to the streets in protesting against the Vietnam War, winding its way through the clothes we wore, music listened to, culture identified with and the means to change our every day awareness, well at least the socially legal acceptable means to do such things. It was youthful idealism that grabbed youth culture by the throat but sadly was eventually co-opted by the powers that be through advertising, mass media, political dirty tricks and drugs, not to mention growing a few years older and having to accept responsibility for ones own life.

Though I eventually saw the limitations of that particular cultural/political revolution, I wonder how much of that spirit stayed on by then personally turning itself inward instead of outward, going for spiritual revolution that took me to years of meditating and yoga, eventually becoming a Hare Krsna devotee? I somehow always believed that a large group of people could join forces and find a higher more noble vision to change a world of war, hate, prejudice, ignorance, sexism, racism and flat out distrust and injustice.

My last attempt at changing my consciousness and that of the worlds was through the teaching of A.C. Bhaktivedanta Prabhupada, as taught by ISKCON and Satsvarupa Goswami. My, my, how much of dead end that ideal change turned out to be, be it in the consciousness of myself or the world changing for the better, though both have changed much in that time.

I have no regrets looking back, for I feel I had to lead the life I lived to get to the point I am at now, though I do wonder what would have happened if I chose differently, like would I have had more financial security at this point in my life, would I have stayed closer to home and family, would have I eventually had a larger family, would I be more secure, smarter and on top of my profession instead of wallowing somewhere in the middle ground of it all, still experimenting, still trying to find my personal/professional niche?

•

•

s p i n • m e • r o u n d

•

•

While walking down the concrete stairs of the local Metro station, completely lost in thoughts about mortality and failed spiritual quests of the past, I began to feel something unusual around my right ankle. I stopped and bent over to see that one of my socks had fallen below the ankle while rushing from the train in a hurry to get home. As I knelt on the gritty cement walkway to pull the offending sock up, I vigorously pulled too hard and suddenly found myself projected upward into the air in a surprising physical ceiling-ward thrust. My body started to spin around and around like a gear in motion, only to me it seemed like a slow motion merry-go-round, only I was not feeling all that merry about being the odd one spin-floating in perpetual motion.

Strange events were happening recently, but compared to starting small fires by staring too long at flammable objects, this newest gravitational head turner was not that welcome in such a public place.

I wondered if it was the worry of finances and the constant looking back at why I once belonged to a fundamentalist cult that was creating these physical feats of weirdness by the body and mind? Was it that once very vibrant life of taking images and matching it to the corporate creed on speed that is now dormant and more clinging to memory than actual presence? Perhaps some of the people that I once angered by telling them to be moderate in their preaching of either religion or science, were now gathering in a small secluded spot in Vengefulvania and practicing some cyber voodoo on this body of hoodoo?

Spin me round, spin me round this town upside down, where lights are always on behind the flickering windows before sets of eyes that refuse to blink, yet, it seems that someone is actually there, somewhere waiting, somehow almost ready to respond or actually create something new … knock, knock, knock … hello … anyone home … hey … feel something funny around the ankles, … oh, ohh!