So much trouble in the world, as Marley prophetically spoke.
Mother-nature, my soul sister must be giving birth t something serious because her contractions are non-stop.
Another massive earthquake, this time in Indonesia. So let's count the quakes so far, Haiti, Chile, Turey,now Indonesia.
And with all the rain and flooding that is going on here in the NYC area, I do believe that her water has broke. Now, I know she is giving birth to change that only the elements can deliver. What come out of her womb? Well, we will find out within the next 2-years as the planet's physicality and the people's social realities and awareness shifts.
Also, I heard about the mock Russian invasion played on Georgian TV last night. Sounds like nations are experimenting with the minds of the people again. Let us not forget the panic broadcast inspired by the writings of author Orson Wells.
Throughout all of this, music is a healing salve on our souls. So I am dropping in the words of a musical genius, Omar Sosa, the hardest working man in the jazz world, and arguably the industry.
Years ago on a whim, I spent the remainder of my water bill to check out the Afro-Cuban pianist at the Jazz Bakery in Los Angeles. I was a vibrant dancehall-booty poppin' 20-something afro-socialite in the thick of neo-cultural revolution in the city.
However, I was tired of the rhetoric and the red-black-green negroes. I wanted something other than the hip-hop, r&b radio commercial stuff. One day while listening to KPFK, a Pacifica station in SoCal, I heard a brilliant jazz song to an African deity, Osun with poetry. Sosa who has a raspy voice was interviewed afterwards. I went crazy like, ahhhhh. "I have to see this old man," I thought.
I am soooo happy I listened to my spirit. I later found out that Sosa is far from old or crusty, or jazz-bourgeios. His hair is shaven except for some Egyptian tufts that are dreaded on his crown. He is this down-to-earth, Santeria-devotee, who loves hip-hop, Mid-Eastern/North African culture, and embraces his African roots.
And his show was fucking bananas. His quartet was so intense my whole inner shit was abuzz. Sosa was dripping in a pool of sweat as he damn near flew off the stage while jumping up-and-down playing his keys.
I am not the groupie type, but I ran to the backstage to shake his hand. Luckily the Jazz Bakery is not this stuffy atmosphere. I was ushered into a room that he shared with all his members and he was so humble.
Later that week, I bumped into him at a Bembe. Small world, I guess geniuses do travel in tight circles. :-)
I will never forget tha experience. I need to listen more to my spirit. Matter of fact, we all do. Blog on, EcoSi
2 ish talking intellectuals holla at a sista:
The one time she told an adult in her life, a teacher at school, lead to a social worker visiting her home and a conversation with her and her parents where she was drilled ...and how she sat in silence denying anything ever happened. She didn't need to tell me the next thing, I already knew what it was...... when that social worker left she would have received the worse beating of her life.Her pain was so evident in the lines of her now middle-aged face. They told the story of her life of abuse, while they also gave way to the longing of a once little girl to know the joy and comfort of nurturing love.
I was in New York City Saturday and the weather was completely off the chain. My wife got it in her head that we'd walk to an eatery that she saw the previous evening on The Food Network. I was thoroughly soaked through to the skin by the time we found the place and then made it back through the subway and then to the garage where we parked. It was so cold I was surprised it wasn't sleet instead of rain and if it had been, it would have been better all the way around.
All that for a marginal meal.
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