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I am a mystic madman, a wandering wildman, scholar of esoterica, dilettante sadhu, dready-headed hippie (only have a few jata on the back of my head right now, though more be forming of this third set of knotted hair), gentle yogi, fierce foe of falsity. I was a preacher, but I renounced that. I was married, but she renounced me. I was a grad student at one of the top universities in the world on my way to becoming a professor, but I realized they taught lies there too. I am protector of souls, lover of mountains, smoker of herb, fond of hot springs, oceans and lakes and rivers and rain and sunshine, devotee of Devi.

Hindu Gods and Goddesses

Sunday, December 5, 2010

La Plaza in Santa Fe

Sittin' overlooking the plaza, sippin' a double americano and watching the crowd, people proverbialy pacing to and froe, Hanukkah celebration on the main stage, and other productions playing out on the broader: Kids [term used to denote young people or old of a certain disposition, and not specifically minors as such] swingin' herb and hash, and some kickin' the hack in a circle; couples walking arm in arm across the brick sidewalk wearing the Southwest style, beads and blankets and frills and more shinies than is most places the norm; yuppies bordering on hippie (or hippie-cum-yuppies); grandparents; Che and Mesuna with grandkids; mamas and papas toting tired little ones; old mystics with long gray hair and young ones with mohawks and twenty piercings or a set of knotty dreadlocks, all enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon on the plaza.

Earlier when I was waitin' for a couple grams of chocolate hash to show, three fellas were playin' Hanukkah songs by a bench, one squeezing an accordian, another on cello and one on hand drums. At least one was Hispanic and scarcely appeared of Hebrew descent, and another looked to be more an Italian than a Jew, perhaps indicative of the ecumenical magic of northeastern New Mexico, likewise exemplified in the plethora of religious communities hereabout, from whirling, spinning Suffis with a temple in Espanola, a mosque and madrasa in Abique, Amaji and Neem Karoli Baba and who knows how many other ashrams, buddhist stupas and monasteries of many faiths, communes of various dispositions and belief systems, and an interfaith foundation in the mountains above Taos called Lama. And of course there's kivas [ki, "anthill," -va "dwelling," Sanskrit] and teepees erected for ceremony and prayers at least a bit more native to this land [if bearing indices of sharings and connected lineages over time and space], sacred dances the earth here's felt in certain beats and rhythm for many, many moons, and songs resonate with the very mountains 'round.

Santa Fe's one of those towns don't fit a grid patterned spread, but circles and seems to spiral round the plaza, spreading into the foothills and o'er a greater span out onto the plains. Reminds me of the opening spoken word to a Midival Punditz tune: "If you’ve ever existed in grids or swerves you know that London swings, New York is a grid. Chicago swings. Bombay is a grid. Delhi swings..." And indeed the movement of more than people and cars in such towns and cities that ain't just squares and rectangles is a different thing than curvy circling wavy streets designating to whatever degree the flow and traffic patterns. To reduce these differences in types of towns or cities to taxonomized, essentialized and well-defined classification might be done, though's likely to miss the mark or present personal presumptions and perspective more than plain truth. Could be stastics compared to come to some conclusions, though could as easy represent other factors influences, such as curvy roads tend to be around hills and mountains and other geographic features, and grids on flat lands. Personally, I've not even figured out any direct correlations, though sense these nonetheless.

Anyhow, belows some photos of the scene, the set, stage and show . . .

namaste, and see






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