Jungle-Like District: A Short Story

Preliminary Stuff

©1999-2016 Ka Malana

Originally written in 1999, and now transcribed and published by Ka Malana from its original form, created for an assignment dated due on February 3, 1999, written by then undergraduate college student, Ka Malana. Copy made: August 25, 2016

The story:

On Hawkslanding, deep within the jungle-like district of the largest city in the world, Gregory Orson is tied to the edge of his desk, hanging to the top of a 40 foot building, singing ludicrous prayers. He has, for fourteen years, been infatuated with Mr. Schwartzpitzer’s secretary. Mr. Schwartzspitzer is his boss, owning a large toy industry. Since Mr. Schwartzspitzer is the executive of the company, he requires many servants. Gregory would every day, when he would fetch Mr. Schwartzspitzer’s coffee, place little love notes cleverly atop of Ms. Dowery’s desk. Ms. Dowery read them every day during her Earl Grey tea break. Sometimes she spilled her tea, and sometimes she didn’t, while reading them. Inside of the notes he always included a small letter of the alphabet which would eventually spell words, revealing a secret sentence, that would identify her admirer as Gregory.  Gregory continued this notion, until Mr. Schwartzspitzer, aggravated by Gregory’s apparent distraction and not properly attending to his job, was fired. At the end of a long year, Gregory tied himself to the desk, on the 40th story, to end his life.

However, on the day that Gregory decided to take his life, he heard Ms. Dowery singing.

Gregory was unfamiliar with the tune at first, and then remembered that the first day Ms. Dowery started working for Mr. Schwartzpitzer, she sang that very song; Gregory Orson saw Susan Dowery’s big blue eyes for the first time when she sang this song.

It all began after Gregory’s fifth day of work. He was on his way to the photocopier with a loose stack of papers in his hands and his ears chimed in on the most beautiful sound. He felt for that moment that he was in an enchanted forest, deep within the jungle, gazing upon a Scarlet Ibis that somehow found itself far from its home. Ms. Dowery was wearing a vibrant pink dress-coat. She had long slender legs and held her head posed with serenity. The best part was that Gregory could see her, but she couldn’t see him. He stared at her stricken with wonder. To him, it was obvious that this unique and rare species of beauty did not belong in a toy factory, and she must have mistakenly misplaced herself.

Gregory went into the photocopying room.

One day, finally, Susan caught his stare. She was a bit startled because she hadn’t realized that anyone was watching her. She also noticed Gregory’s glowing eyes. This sort of frightened her so she looked back down at her work. Then, feeling as though she was being rude, she looked up and introduced herself. Gregory responded shyly with a, “hello,” set his stack down, and walked quickly out of the room. From this day forward, he always avoided being in the same room with her alone.

Then, one day, ten months after he had been working for Mr. Schwartspitzer, Gregory noticed an odd document placed on Ms. Dowery’s desk.  It was a document concerning Mr. and Mrs. Schwartzspitzer. To Gregory, it wasn’t the fact that the document itself was odd, but the fact that he saw Ms. Dowery staring at it the way she did. She read the document like it was her own. Surely, Gregory thought that Ms. Dowery wasn’t the type to be invading in one’s personal property!

Gregory also recalled seeing Ms. Dowery and Mr. Schwartzspitzer speaking once in a room by themselves, when Gregory walked in, Mr. Schwartzspitzer and Ms. Dowery seemed to be standing very close to each other in awkward silence. Gregory also began to notice that Mr. Schwartzspitzer grew more and more hasty with him. All of these observations were made by Gregory, but he never really took the time to consider their meaning.

In one day it would be Gregory’s 14th year anniversary at the toy factory. Mr. Schwartzspitzer breezed past Gregory and asked him to come into his office later, but that he had to speak with Ms. Dowery first. Walking quietly over to Mr. Schwartzspiters’s office, and listening through the door, Gregory heard the familiar voices of his boss and Ms. Dowery speaking. Incidentally, the voices were familiar sounding, but he noticed that they had changed tone. Ms. Dowery’s began to be even more sing-song like than usual, and Mr. Schwartzspiter’s  voice had softened. Suddenly it occurred to Gregory that Mr. Schwartzspitzer and Ms. Dowery were married! and Mr. Schwarzspitzer had only hired her, because she needed to get out of the house more! She hadn’t any previous experience nor training. Mr. Schwartzpitzer had Ms. Dowery use her maiden name to keep the employees from knowing.

Gregory became so lost in thought that he barely realized that the conversation between his boss and his boss’s wife had concluded. He was just about to leave and walk to the photocopying room, when Mr. Schwartzspitzer and Ms. Dowery walked out of the office. They saw Gregory immediately. Mr. Schwartzpitzer looked down at Gregory and wrenched up his face, while Ms. Dowery dropped her face into a frown.

“Gregory Orson, would you please step into my office now, ” was Mr. Schwartzspitzer’s immediate request. Gregory stepped into the office and gazed around at all the leather furniture. The room smelled like Ms. Dowery’s perfume. Mr. Schwartzspiter told Gregory that he has been preoccupied and that he just wasn’t completing his tasks, and that he was in fact being “let go” from the corporation. As Gregory exited, he heard Ms. Dowery singing her song. This time he didn’t look at her at all.

That evening Gregory felt that his life was over. He tied himself to the 40th floor of the building, to a desk, so that he could hang out of the window, because the building had no ledge.

 

There is no winning hand

Each day
I look down at my hands
and make sure
I’ve emptied them.

Otherwise, they can’t be
filled, and sometimes
I get thirsty, and need to
make a cup.

For wisdom.

Maybe tonight we can
just not talk, but
just sit beside each
other, silently rooting
for one another.

Silently saying, “Go, go, you can
do it.” Your hands are open,
and you are ready to
receive,
and all the Universe will
silently flood in,

no one will know it, but it’s
already happened.

Hermit Crab New Moon: Aquarisea

HermitCrab

I was born from the land of Ocean

mixed with salt and sea.

Darkness is calming, soothing, and through it,

I sail.

SeaTurtle1

Down into the deep.

Touching nose to sand,

I feel the vibrations of Mother.

SeaTurtle Face

Rest my belly on this rock.

for a moment.

Then,

rising up, I am guided by my blue-eyes.

Blue-eyed SeaTurtle

…and there are Jellys….

whose lights hover over and drift like spaceships.

SeaGreen_JellyFish

Revealing complexity and hairlike extensions

while transparently supple

White-yellow Jellyfish

Black and white clownfish and are tickled by,

and tickle,

the sea anemone.

Nemos

I can be seen among them, peeking out from time to time.

Nemo

Majestic leafy sea dragon fills my dreams with primordial dances of creation.

LeafySeadragon2

Such a marvelous costume

LeafySeadragon

Everywhere the sea continues in blue unison, the darkness abiding, providing safety and rest.

Light blue Jellyfish

…simply rocking, calming

Florescent Pink Jelly Fish

Easy lights on the eyes.

BlueJellyFish

Sacred detail.

Blue and White Jelly Fish

my dear, a Starfish

Version 2

and a Lionfish,

are here, too. ❤

Lionfish

 

Post #290: Sometimes, breakfast

Sometimes breakfast
is enough of a trigger
to release the night,
and take pause
in the taste of my food.

Meanwhile, I count how many birds
are calling to me.
This morning, the Red-tailed
Hawk has paused, too.

Her Hawk’s cry was becoming a
morning routine. Plus, we go way back.

She didn’t beckon me to open
my shades this morning. My curiosity did.

My morning routine,
has promised me
the best day.

Do you know how
especially important
a thought is
in the morning?

*I wait, while the computer works. It appears everything pertinent has been found again; now it just needs to be sorted. Meanwhile, other projects await, too. While I find my breath, my peace, my inner faith. Then the camera store, then, chop wood, carry water. 🙂

**After some time I will likely return and edit this post, by *adding* some images to it. But don’t hold your breath. 🙂

***Isn’t it so cool to be able to enjoy another day?!

Stages of Grace

It never occurred to me
that grace could be
letdown, like hair,
in a few gentle layers,
one year at a time.

Now I look up
and I see myself covered,
no, dusted
in white.

We are never left alone,
and for peacelessness
a gratitude arises
meeting the grace that comes
down from above, but reaching
up when noticing, a moment’s
continuance

I’ve seen a rainbow form
in this meeting.

Heaven knows sunshine and
rain make a good couple.

Summer Saturn

Summer is filled with Saturn

A welcome guest, whom I invited.
When he sits in the house,
He already has his own chair.

It’s a sensible chair.
It has arms that are sturdy, of course.
He bought it at a yard sale
He told me.

Haggled for $5.

Saturn doesn’t take up a lot of space,
and is mostly pretty silent, but I
can feel him breathing with the floor.

We go up and down, together.

Saturn is my friend, and when he’s good,
I even lend him my flip-flops, and send
him out to the pool with Neptune.

Yes, they do have sun protection.

Sometimes they square off and fight,
but mostly they just
make stuff happen, together.

Neptune is always hard to pin down, making
images with the clouds. He doesn’t know if
he is drawing with his mind, or if that bunny
is really there.

But, Saturn, he draws those same pictures
in the sand with his finger, and then
he smiles.

Ode to my Dusty Guitar

I’ve tuned you a few times
in the past couple of weeks.

Started getting back the memory
of the day and ‘age’ when we met.

You were newborn and now
you are, well, still dusty.

Even with old
strings you still do ring
for me.

What do i do dear friend
to bring you into a state of glistening?

How can I awaken our rapport
without the callouses
or the finger stretches?

Realistically, and without too much
forced effort, that only
frustrates us both.

I’m sorry that we fought.

During which time I made friends
with the ancient spirits who

started drumming anxiously within me.

Playing God Word Collage

Play turns into Practice
And from practice, valuable skill
And from valuable skill, pleasure.

Some would say the pleasure
Comes first. Who are they?
Sufi friends I’m pointing at you.
Glory be to God and to You as God. Spin, Spin…

We don’t know who is doing it all
We just see it happening, and
Wonder: “What the happening?”

Or, WTF.

Mooji says, “Who is aware of this ‘I’ that is
Watching form and phenomena?”

We drool, we scream. We draw blank stares.
We struggle with words different from our
Native language.

We choke on tears, throw fits
And laugh over those same stories that
Make the tears, transformed.

Quick. How can that happen so fast?
So big to so little, so little to so big.
Nothing into something and then into
Nothing before a baby’s first swallow,
On any given day.

Who is this
One who notices the noticing?

Where is ‘time’ in sound? “Sita Ram… Sita Ram..”

There are metaphors about skies.
And blank screens. There’s some creativity
But mostly all end up singing in praise
Or waiting in line to do it, to dropping down
At the feet of God. Again and again, forever.

Pointing and shouting to Shiva. I see you! Hah-ha!
Go and hide and we’ll seek again. ::wink::
God is the name I made for me to keep me busy
Playing: Who’s next?

***********
Note for readers: I wrote this poem following my 7-day silent retreat with Mooji
via broadcast from Monte Sahaja, Portugal

Reflections #4: Figure Drawings

Depicting the human body has both amazed and inspired me since my teens when I had the opportunity to freely draw at a local college with a nude model. I didn’t have any lessons in this type of drawing at the time, but the practice helped me to make a representation of the image I saw before me. Then, when in college undergrad, I took a drawing class that had a 3-day drawing nude model exercise, the other activities were still-life, etc.

In essence, it’s been years since I’ve attempted anything like this. I doubt that I can “pick up where I left off.” By the same token, I am surprised that I was able to do this at all, and with very little training. What really mattered to me was the state of mind that drawing put me in. It was so comfortably silent. I have to wonder if my openness at the time led to these drawings. Believe me, I know the opposite: frustration. However, frustration is limited. It cannot last. What does last, is the mark on the page. Even then, it will disappear in time.

IMG_0393IMG_0420

This is the last article in my Reflections series for the Mercury retrograde transit in Taurus. Starting tomorrow, I will be engaging in a weeklong silent retreat, and will be offline completely for at least a week. Following that I have some blog posts planned about my recent travels. Still, you know how inspiration is, it has its own timeline. We’ll see what happens after the retreat. Many of my days did not go as planned, but I’ve learned in life not to plan, while still, to plan.

May you all have sweet, blessed days filled with all the amazing developments of your own growth and the bliss of life. May all your creations bring you the joy of that curious openness, an openness accepting of mystery, and while relishing in the unfoldment and enlightenment that each day brings.  ❤   aloha, ka

 

 

Clouds.

pink clouds

 

What is in a pause
but a whisper for
pausing’s sake
another moment to breathe?

Art is artless by itself, no?

It needing language, culture
for its couch.

Let us sit awhile,
Can we do that?

I’d ask you
not to move while the needles
are in.

Somehow you understand this,
implicitly, and so you are still.

We both breathe deeply now.

Connecting with the Universe and
allowing.

How much medicine do you need
when your heart is beating in
your chest, and the magical
offering of love is wallpapered so
freely in the puffy clouds above.

The only medicine I truly know,
is continuity.

Sai Maa Lotus-Flower

How can I read this poem
without it stirring my insides?

How can I look at you without
weeping?

You handed flowers to the
man in front of us,
but witnessing this moment

and what i Felt

Who is to Say, when Darshan
really occurred?

We stood before you, then,
with your peacock feather in hand.

Touched my forehead and chest and I thanked you
as I would any beloved friend.

How can ‘I be’ and not
be moved?

Who are we to stop some tears
or suggest this is the illusion
of sugar-drenched thoughts,

~~~

When I saw you give us flowers…
and I read your voice written
directly into my mind.