No, their legs look like that all of them. Because they climb the pit mountain all day carrying weight. They are soccer players legs all, athlete legs all. They wear shorts without underwear, and you can vividly see their butt muscles, ripped ass of man, climbing, climbing, carrying that what-are-you-doing weight.
These people, this is what they actually do.
People carry weight.
We Carry Weight
We harness wind.
We Do the perfect version.
We domesticate animals.
We Use Resources. Most of us local resources.
We domesticate plants, the world around us. We use the world around us. We domesticate, harness, and employ other humans. We create the master. The Landlord. The overseer. Someone to manage for the man. We terrace the steep land. From terraces to farmhouse on the Rhine, we organize land. We live off the land. We cultivate joy. We build. We make the perfect version. A thatched roof or a skyscraper. We build the perfect that. And why not line up fifteen young children six and under and have them race. Race them five times. There will be a five fastest. The three fastest. And there will be the fastest. We notice them, and they notice. We do these things, we survive these multiple ways. We see, learn from our elders, master the thing that is that, that magical perfect thing. Gravity and sand and life cultivating you and the way you stand. We carry weight. We harvest the sea. We fly around and fly others. We buzz, we hum, we hiss. We struggle, we labor for love, labor for necessity. I see the rain. We hear the music. We sing., We run races. We cultivate the land. We sow and harvest on terraces and plots and the concepts of big ag. Someone is the master. Someone sets the terms. Sometimes these set by you and me; sometimes we fit the master plan. So climb the mountain and sail the sea. We carry weight. We rest. We love.
Tools
Harvest
Teamwork
Imagine riding that donkey
A Day
Labor – And what is a day? For a person? The sustenance of life, of learning, of movement.
The Market
Boundaries - Markers
Herding Camels
Imagine being the shepherd
In the real, the real role of life
children
Religion
prayer
Controlled fire
Shelter
The Journey
Consciousness
Agriculture
The journey through consciousness
Yeah, but he actually got the camera on the helicopter.
The multitude
Millions
Billions
(love that shit)
ritual
dance
contest
We do this, this masked parade we assemble for this and take this shit seriously. We gather for this.
How do you do it all the time?
Do it every time.
We swarm
Hand-powered Ferris wheel
We move earth
Our patterns
Patterns
We become good That.
Obscurity Reality
Clarity Reality
See their Reality
As their absolute Real
Identify with it
Empathize, and envy
See another seeing, vividly
And you will know another soul
And will in turn know yourself better
By learning to see.
Go Western White Man, see all.
See the miracle of all things.
Notice how the mass cross the urban crevasse.
Notice the crows – or some other scary trash bird.
See the ferry.
Do you know anything white man? Do you know anything western man?
See the overloaded train in India. Love your Humanity. Love yourself and understand.
Notice clothes you will never wear.
See a masculine man, a stud really, in Pakistan.
See your fellow’s yawn.
Note the limitations of their ferryboat deck stand. – five in a square foot. [Speak the time, now the time, sleep.] Wonder too about starting in “verse” – by that, for me, I mean the spirit line, separated from others – ideas separated by other ideas with a line jump. But, not sure that’s the right way, as I always imagine that allowing lines to follow one another is better, where the rich line, rather than separated, joins the one before it in a string that becomes more impressionist and persuasive. And yet again, sometimes I think a line is worth separated from the mass of words, important enough to give its own space on the blank page. You understand, my friend.
If you love it, teach them to love it too. Or, more, show them, inspire them to see what you see, because it matters, and it will matter to them, appropriated in their own way, because they are sentient real, and they will understand for themselves, in their own way. Rest & Night Club. Some notice more than you. And that’s okay. Because every Seeing has its own level, its own line, and dives to reaches others do not – they are their own unique plain, their own pattern, their own insane. That’s what you learn; and that is what you share. Endo.
And what the fuck are those birds? And the ferry. My goodness. The world’s you don’t understand, White Man. But you can know the Eternity by living your own.
Know Eternity by living your own.
Ride that eternal train with humanity.
Ride with them, with them, eternally.
Know the ferry’s edge and their stand, what they hold in their hands. Their sweaters and their spit. A purse and sockless sneakers. Why? Why the foot away from ferry’s edge? You know why. And why the old lady with the yellow and white dress, old lady, carrying a bundle on her head and behind her the young people wearing but T-shirts and underwear jogging? Why the young girl with the red lunch box? Because you drive to New York Because she saw you, that’s why she pauses under large red graffiti and a barred window ten feet off the ground and Muslims praying listen Jesus you can’t fuck with that. Embrace their prayer, embrace the prayer wall, miracle with the rest of them with your own vital seeing.
This is what I do for a living.
Because they push the Ferris wheel by hand.
Try it. Live it with the smiling real, that boy with a smile.
Their real is poverty.
Airplane flying one of the gnarliest images ever - now – after 9/11. See the sideways shot and plane heading for land.
People do sit in the cockpit and fly the plane.
Live in one of those apartment towers in China, in Singapore, in Malaysia. Live at the random top. We carry loads. We carry weight. We do that carry with those feet. You think this is easy? Especially if you don’t pay attention, if you choose not to See as richly as a man can. You funny man! See! His feet, we carry eight, we carry hay.
Oh my God do we bend under the weight. We march in bands.
See the man, no matter the man.
See the man.
We carry sand.
Those are definitely dudes making out in the crowd.
They live in pipes. They stand in lines. Some become contortionists. They are poor. They bend in half. The fuck? The shattered apartment building lacks walls and windows. They live there.
In Peru they walk like that you walk like that and the little girl whips the donkeys with an organic stalk holds the reins while her dad/uncle/boss is passed out, drunk, or dead and she looks very concerned driving those donkeys in automobile traffic. She looks around for divine help and receives none, she chews her lips.
Smoke and fire, for sure. And the dead car on desert highway. We rise and fall and rise and fall.
And who doesn’t play music?
And who doesn’t sing like that?
And who does not pray at the wailing wall? That’s right, all beautiful motherfuckers, you don’t either. And we do. At the wall of all walls and the only way to be, you’d better bob and weave too, and bow, and tai chi, do you know your God? And your bod? Ha! Move your body White Man! Move like you know mortality. Your own. And his. And hers. And the poor man without sock actually not pretend, resting within the billion mass against a telephone pole on his haunches, which is exactly what you would do at that point as did he and you know the line. You walk the line. Everybody leans against that pole.
He is a street performer, as are you. What role did he perfect? And what of you?
What is your skill, man?
See how serious follows the smile.
See how afraid is the girl. She is crying, while your uncle is drunk/dead/asleep. She is afraid.
Oh my God, she’s afraid, and you felt her fear. You knew her fear.
I know your fear.
You can’t touch his song. Know your own prayer.
Listen to the voice.
Listen to the voice, and the voice fades out.
Why are there children?
Take care of the children. Give to the man.
Look at him in death majestic. That’s the man from the mine. They’re carrying him out of the pit. They are strong men. He is a strong man. And he can’t carry himself out of the pit. There is a man. Know his mind. Know his anesthetized state near death, as you know your own mortality. And I master this power.
But why?
Because we die. And we live.
I have been dead before. I have died before. I have already died and was resurrected. I know what it’s like. I see the circle. I know the cycle. I’ve gone through the cycle, I’ve lived it a hundred times and I live it now.
Powaqqatsi
A sorcerer, and entity, a way of life, that consumes others in order to sustain itself.
Philip Glass jams the ethereal and lives there in order to.