Off to Paris via NYC, and the Church of Love

by namaya on February 20, 2012

Back in Vermont for about a week and a half. Thoroughly enjoyed the connection of being back at home, and the familiar joy of home. But after connecting with friends and neighbors, it was good to go back to NY and see family, and meet our new friends Roy and Sue…artists and activists.  The simple joys in life are sometimes the most profound, spending time with close friends and family. There is so much work to do in the world, so many to help and care for, but sometimes it is good to take a break from it, and savor fully the sweet joy in life.

Today, we are in Queens, and we saw the JIM HENSON RETROSPECTIVE at the Museum of Moving Images. What a delightful surprise. I had only known about his work with the Sesame Street, and did not realize how imaginative he was.The exhibit traced his life work and it was a rich journey of creativity.

Tomorrow, i’ll stop in at the New Museum and Guggenheim before the flight to Paris. New shows at both museums.

It is fascinating for me to watch my visual art side continue to flourish and grow, while at the same time I am continuing my work with writing.  Some new poems over the past week on the Familiarity of Home. None ready to be released. Another new poem in the works for a celebration of North Florida Women Health Center “I celebrate our heroes of Women’s health” though the title may be prosaic, at this point, the content is powerful. This week another women’s health center destroyed by arson.

To the Right to Lifers – if you are so concerned about Right to Life – why don’t they picket the Pentagon?  Or protest capital punishment?

These women who continue to provide health care, family planning, and when necessary safe medical abortions are my heroes. I think of the millions of women around the world who suffer because of the fanatical fundamentalism of religion and plain ordinary stupidity. I am not sure where one ends and the other begins.

My new play FOUR PROPHETS is waiting for a producer. I need to spend time with this, because despite the ‘comedic’ elements it is a play that powerfully speaks for a theology that is humanistic, filled with joy and love, and if there are no religions that offer that… then i will do with out a religion. I will call my new church “ir Reveren’s jAz: Church of Love.”

Great joy to all of you!

 

 

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Transformations! In Spades.

by namaya on February 13, 2012

Transformation in Spades. For those who had been reading, following, commenting, etc. and have wondered why the usual garrulous poet has been silent, i have been having too much fun! Yes, too much fun!  My number one organizational goal has been to have more fun in 2012 and it has been raining fun.

San Miguel de Allende in Mexico has been a great joy. Wonderful new friends like Ana Theil the glass artist, Nick and ManRay from Mineral de Possos, Efraim from Institute of Art in San Miguel, Adolpho Falcon the artist and sculptor, and a host of the marvelous characters and friends in San Miguel that makes it one of the most culturally vibrant cities we’ve been to.

Pepe Romero came into town and played Recuerdos of Alhambra, as an on encore that was spell-binding.

Jimmy Ray and the Chapel of Love had their annual party – and it was San Francisco and the Summer of love in 1967 all over again.

Jack Stillwater and his partner Francis three nights a week perform stellar classical music.

Pedro Cartas plays superb electric violin three nights a week.

I also had the opportunity to perform CELEBRATE LIFE: Stories of the Sublime and the Absurd

The new website is up www.warisporn.us with the works by the internationally renowned peace artist  Art Rat #1.

Great joy to all of you.  – Namaya – Art Rat #1

 

 

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San Miguel De Allende – A bit of Paradise

by namaya on January 22, 2012

San Miguel Mexico 20 jan 12
Is this the best kept secret that I am going to blab about?  Tennis at 8AM, roosters crowing, beautiful swept clay tennis courts, weather about 68,  cost of  playing is about $4. an hour, and the skies are clear.  Last night heard the most phenomenal of Flamenco music with the Luna De Flamenco group, then Jack Stillwater shows up in a gallery and is playing some of his amazing  classical guitar pieces. This guy is writing some of the best classical guitar pieces I’ve heard in  a long time. If that is not orgiastic enough we go over and discover one of the best Jazz violinists on the planet Pedro Cartas or at least the best since the passing of Grapelli!  This was one of the best nights of music in my long life. Then this afternoon visiting with my friend Ana Thiel the incredibly talented glass sculptor at her studio – wonderful hospitality.

This is a winter paradise.

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VT POET IN MEXICO

by namaya on January 17, 2012

WINTER IN SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDALE

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Vermont Poet in Mexico – San Miguel De Allende

by namaya on January 17, 2012

Wonderful heading out of New York and Vermont with the arctic winds pushing down into the single digits. The night before we had been ice-skating at Rockefeller Center with nephew Conner, his mom, and Zoe. Fun evening in NYC, and within a few minutes, the arctic coldness abated.  This is the great fun of NYC, even on a formidable cold night.

In San Miguel De Allende for the next few weeks – with some studio and time to do some art work, time to work on the book proposals, and the performance project coming up in the spring. Weather this morning was about sixty-five peaking at 70 F.

Wish I could say that I miss Vermont now, but in truth I ‘d rather be down at least until March.

I am a nine season Vermonter!

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Photo of Tim, and International Champion Maine CoonSuper Cat Jack Flash

 
Jack is our tawny Maine Coon cat, big and fluffy, soft as silk, who loves to sleep, eat, and snuggle.

“Grass would grow around him, he’s so lazy,” said my Poppa.

“Hmm,” purred Jack in his cat-like dream.  “If only they knew what I know.  They make fun of me, but I have to save my energy for my work at night.”

“Jack,” said Poppa when he came home from work.  “Are you still sleeping?  I work entire day and he’s home doing what he does best… sleeping.  Cats have the life, don’t they?”

Then Poppa swooped down to pick up us up – my sister Maria, my brother Max, and me – Carlos.  We rolled on the floor to snuggle with Jack,

First thing every morning, with a patter and plop of fast little paws, Jack would scurry to the feeding bowl.

“Strange thing,” said Maria.  “He eats like he’s famished, and then he sleeps all day.  You would think he’d been working a double shift!”  She patted his belly. “  We love you, Jack, but you’re getting fat.  Maybe you need some exercise.”

Exercise?  Ha!” mumbled Jack in his cat-like dreams. “My fat tummy is my secret fuel storage for emergencies. If only they knew how hard I work to keep them safe at night.”

“He isn’t fat or lazy,” I said.  I saw him last night, and he isn’t just any old cat.  He’s Super Cat Jack Flash!”

“Carlos, who is Super Cat Jack Flash,” asked Marie.

“Didn’t you see him last night?  He is the most awesome super cat in the world!”

Poppa laughed and said, “Carlos that is a wonderful story!  When did you make it up?”

“It’s a true story about our Jack,” I exclaimed.  “Super Cat Jack Flash is the most fearless cat of all the cats in the world.  When the clock strikes midnight, the Wizard of Mischief  comes out to play.  He is a sorcerer who commands the gremlins of the night.  The gremlins are called Who, Done, and Did, and they whisper to us in our dreams:  “Is your work done?  Did you do it right?  Who done did it better?”

“What are gremlins?” asked Max.

“Gremlins are the scariest creatures of the night, but the scariest of them all is the Wizard of Mischief, who rides down on a ship made from moonbeam..”

“Wizards and gremlins?  The next thing I know, you’ll be talking about pirates!” exclaimed Maria.

“Yes, there are pirates, too, but last night there were only the Wizard and the three gremlins:  Who, Done, and Did,” I explained.  “Let me tell you what happened last night.”

Last night, when the Wizard of Mischief and the gremlins of the night, Who, Done, and Did,  sailed to our house on a buttercup-yellow moonbeam of dreams, Who leaped off the main deck with a sword made from a toothpick.  He wore black, shiny leather boots and a pirate’s hat made from a thimble.  With a cackling laugh, he exclaimed, “Whoever you are, I am Who, the question you never seem to answer.  When you say ‘Who?’ I will appear.”

Done was the next to appear.  He was dressed in a purple satin coat with lace borrowed from a tablecloth, a shiny silver hat made from a bottle cap, and tap shoes that seemed to move on their own, as he danced the do-diddly-do-do-done dance.

“Are you worried about the Who?” asked Who like an owl. “Whooo, whooo, whoo.”

“There’s much work to be done here,” said Done.

Who leaped to the top of the counter with a flip of a spoon, where he teetered and tottered on a tower of dishes.

“Yes, I remember now,” said Max. “I awoke for a moment last night. The moon was as light as yellow buttercups, and three little creatures were dancing and singing Mischief Tonight.

Who!

Done!

Did!

Mischief tonight.

Who will we do?

What will be done?

When we did what we do,

Will it be done enough?

 

“Ha!” said Super Cat Jack Flash who wore a cape made of a kitchen towel, and a hat made of a tin teapot.  With a spry leap he said, “No mischief or games while I’m on the watch! No questions of who, no trouble of done or did while I am on the watch!”

The gremlin Who leaped jumped to whisper in Poppa’s ear as he slept, but Super Jack jumped on a pillow, landing as softly as a falling feather, and chased that old Who away.

“Bah!” said Who to Jack. “You’ll never catch me! I am the buzzing bee of all the questions from here to there.”

“Who, who to you,” Who called out as he ran away to hide while Done and Did came near.

Done said, “All this mischief of work still to be done!” Then he gave a push on the tower of dishes that tottered and started to fall.

Super Cat Jack Flash flew over the counter and, with one paw, he pushed back the falling dishes, landing lightly with a swoosh of his cape.

“What happened next?” asked Maria with her eyes wide.

“Tell me more!” said Max.

“There was no time to rest! Before you could say ‘did,’ the gremlin Did raced to Momma’s bed and began to sing, his Did-did song as he swung from the lampshade on Momma’s nightstand.

Did, did, did you do it?

Did, did, did you do it?

Did you forget?

Did you almost?

 

After a long day of work, as you sleep, these questions start to arise in your dreams, and you wonder if you did all the dids you were supposed to do.  Momma tossed and turned as she remembered all the things she forgot to do that day. Did was dancing and swinging gleefully from the lampshade.

Super Cat Jack Flash raced around the corner, leaped onto a curtain sash, and swung there like Tarzan. He did a double back flip and, with a tumbling twist, he  gave old Did the boot. Yes, the tip of his paw met the bottom of Did, and, before he could he say one more did, he was gone.

Momma sighed as all her restless dreams of did and did not do disappeared, and she fell into a peaceful sleep.

Though grownups can’t see Who, Done, or Did, they can hear those words at night:

Who am I supposed to meet tomorrow?

Was it done right?

Did I do it?

Who done did what I was supposed to do?”

 

Last night I called out to Super Cat Jack Flash, but he didn’t hear me. He was too busy giving Did the boot, scaring the who out of Mr. Who, and preventing Done from tormenting Mom and Dad with all the questions about who, what, or where.  Super Jack has been protecting us from all the mischief at night that we never even knew about.

Though I never knew before that Jack could speak, last night he spoke to me:  “Carlos,” he said, “I am the true of what you truly might be.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Too many times we’re afraid to be who we really are,” said Jack.

“Like when I feel afraid of the dark?”  I asked.

“Exactly!” said Super Cat Jack Flash. “You don’t need to be afraid of the dark because you really are brave.”

As we were talking, a smoke alarm started to beep.

“I wish I could chat some more, but with Who, Done, and Did running about, I can’t stop!” Super Cat Jack Flash ran down the stairs, leaped high into the air, and slapped the smoke alarm with his paw. It started to fall, but he caught it with his other paw and put it firmly back in place.

The hallway clock struck 5:00 a.m., and when the last moonbeam fell through the kitchen window, the Wizard of Mischief reappeared. He was a figure made of shadows and fears.  He called out, “Up, Who!  Up, Done!  Up, Did!  We’re off until tomorrow when the mischief begins again.”

As the slender pink whisper of morning appeared, the Wizard and his three gremlins of the night leaped onto their ship made of moonbeams and dreams, and, before you could say, “Who, Done, Did,” the ship rose through the ghostly veil of light that comes between night and dawn.

Max and Marie looked at me and said almost together, “It almost seems true!”

“Of course it is,” I said. “Remember last night when you turned and almost woke up? That was Who, Done, or Did disturbing your sleep, remember?”

There on the couch, in a deep snoring sleep, was Jack.  The house was quiet now as we snuggled next to Jack, and we knew that everyone was safe because of our hero– Super Cat Jack Flash.

Namaya
namaya copywrite  2012

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Farewell Vermont? Gypsy soul in NYC

by namaya on January 8, 2012

How can one fall in love with New York City?  I’m back living in NYC with forays back into Vermont.  I’m a south Bronx born fellow, raised in Spain, and then in New Jersey in the shadows of Paterson.  I am an Irish and a US citizen, but consider myself a citizen of the world having traveled to nearly 100 countries I am at home in many places around the globe.  I’m still not a gypsy in a suitcase but I’m moving more towards that direction. I love my home on Blue Heron Pond; a millionaire couldn’t ask for more, it has all the warmth, comfort, ease, and serenity one would ever dream of.  Though in the past fifteen years of living in Vermont, I had often traveled, but now my direction and home orientation is in NYC.  When I’m back at Blue Heron Pond there is an incredible peacefulness and calm, but I’m soon restless for NY.

Yesterday, I had a screenwriting class in Chelsea.  I took the subway down to Union Square on a bright warm afternoon in early January, the multicultural world of NYC right there on Union Square, and everyone was abuzz about the new Andy Warhol statue on the north side of the park.  I love this vibrancy, the market vendors, musicians, children playing, street people shaking their change cups, traffic and honking horns, too many people on cell phones and texting oblivious to everyone around them, families with babies in strollers, the smell of baked pastries, and life!

As a writer and performance artist, I cherish the quiet and peace to write, but I need the colors of the city, the forests of the Green Mountains, the vibrancy of Paris, the grittiness of London, the dreaming splendor of midnight in Venice, the hundreds of places around the globe that I’ve been, but the place that is most inspiring to me of all – is my imagination.  Of all the places I’ve been on the globe, all have feed my soul and spirit, but the place that has been most extraordinary is the journey in my imagination.

Vermont, my home and sanctuary at Blue Heron Pond is always the most extraordinary place, but NYC with its vibrancy of people, cultures, music, theater, and the street life are calling me back.

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Vermont Poet in NYC: Back in the Saddle

by namaya on January 7, 2012

Two weeks back at Blue Heron Pond, mostly it was frustrating,  and a lot of interrupted time.  I enjoyed the niece and nephew, and it is one of the great joys to have so many terrific nieces and nephews, but I truly needed two weeks of disconnect the phone and sit quietly. Attentive. Strange at this point to figure out my balance.Am I running away from the reservation of old white hippies and their Brigadoon bliss of life in Hillbillyboro? Ironically, I had a marvelous evening with two neighbors, and back visiting Michael and Phyllis.  Some new friends Henry and Lauren.  Some other friends in from Haiti. Some very good people time.

Strange, I did feel the draw back to the Hudson River valley and Nyack. I feel strong by the Hudson River. I feel a great sense of peace. Also, that it is close to the forests.

There is great joy at Blue Heron Pond, but little connection to the HBB, it feels foreign and distant, I am not feeling that connection these days. But I am connected to Blue Heron Pond. I am in a time of transition.

It is interesting watching my energy and attention as I find after two weeks on the ranch I am ready for the big city again.  The cold and greyness of Vermont.  At least in NYC you can go to a museum or a theater.

Today, I met with Fellowship of Reconciliation, and booked GOLDBERG ON PALESTINE: WITNESS TO GENOCIDE.  There is a part of me that still wants to have some humor or joy in it, not the heaviness but the lightness and the joy. Perhaps, the story of the Major at the boarder in Jordan?  Perhaps it is the story of Sheik Yer Booty, the elderly bell hop at the Capitol hotel in east Jerusalem. Perhaps, it is the story of Mejnoon Al Kabir? Or Yoni and Bibbi?

Met Rabbi Lynn Gotleib today whom I had been corresponding with. We met and spoke about our work on Palestine. Good to see her and connect with a fellow traveler. Good to connect with a righteous and strong person, who is rooted in her peace work.

Tomorrow, Screen writing class all day. In the evening, some theater.

 

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The Vermont legislation H137, to tax not-for-profit entities that generate more than $50,000 in ticket sales per annum, is an idea that has merit.  However, only a few arts organizations in Vermont have that kind of income, and it will have little impact on the majority.  Nevertheless, it raises the question of not-for-profits and their lack of direct contribution to the revenue of the town of Brattleboro. One solution that has been successfully implemented around the US, benefitting cash-strapped communities, is Payment in Lieu of Taxes (PILOT) assessed against entities that are listed as being not-for profit, despite that they generate revenue.  Equally important, Brattleboro must address the chronically ineffective town management, and reevaluate its relationship with its not-for-profits.

Though many not-for-profits may be worthwhile in that they provide music, housing, culture, arts, and houses of worship, these institutions do not pay an equitable share for town services.  In some cases, this privilege is taken to the extreme.  For instance, The Retreat utilizes the police as their free defacto in-house security.  This lack of in-kind payment for services, in particular when it comes to income-generating not-for-profit businesses, has become a grave problem with the declining grand list.  In a conversation with staff members at Brattleboro’s Tax Office, they suggested that upwards of 50% of Downtown properties are listed as being not‑for‑profit.  For example, Windham Land Trust (WLT) has over five-hundred housing units in Brattleboro and does not pay a contribution comparable to the one a for‑profit business would pay.  WLT and their housing program are in part subsidized by the homeowners of Brattleboro.  Brattleboro has the highest concentration of low-income and subsidized housing in the region, and yet it doesn’t have the tax base to support it.  Everyone deserves decent housing; the question is, who will pay for it? For example, why should an elderly couple who are life-long residents of Brattleboro, currently surviving on a fixed income, support those not-for-profits; especially not-for-profits that generate significant revenue?  The PILOT Program may help to address these inequities.

In its February 2010 edition, the Journal Gazette reported the following:

Cambridge, Mass., started a PILOT program in 1973, collecting $1 million that year alone from local non-profits, including the richly endowed Harvard University.  The university and town signed a 50-year agreement in 2005 that will require Harvard to eventually pay the city nearly $10 million a year.  ‘This is not a gift from Harvard,’ said Cambridge vice Mayor Marjorie C. Decker at the time of the agreement.  ‘Harvard students and employees benefit from the services the city provides.’  Officials in Belmont, Mass., last year sent letters to 37 nonprofit organizations, asking for 4 cents for each square foot of land, which amounts to about 20 percent of what a non-exempt property owner would pay in taxes.  The Lions Club of Belmont agreed to pay $500 instead of the suggested $174.

 

Businesses like Brattleboro Hospital, Marlboro College, Windham Land Trust, The Co-op (which will soon be a not-for-profit after demolishing a shopping plaza with four business and an auto shop), Brattleboro Housing, The Retreat, World Learning, the Montessori School, the Jazz Festival, The Yellow Barn, and the dozens of other local not-for-profits, either own property, or  have a client base from somewhere other than Brattleboro.  Why shouldn’t they contribute a PILOT fee?  Why should a taxpayer underwrite municipal services to a private school like Montessori, where the majority of students are from outside the town and, in some cases, outside the state?  At some private colleges, like Marlboro College and World Learning, the tuition is over $40,000 per annum.  Why can’t the town receive a PILOT from that revenue?  When the Holstein Association originally built their office (Marlboro Graduate Center), they received financial support from the town and the state, but when it was sold, the town didn’t receive a portion of that revenue.  This kind of generosity on the part of the town, while noble (or foolish, depending on your perspective), undermines the tax base and the long term viability of the community.

Every organization can make an argument as to why they cannot be assessed a PILOT, and those arguments need to be considered carefully.  For example, the Morningside, which depends largely on donations and does not produce income, shouldn’t be assessed at the same rate as, for instance, the Brattleboro Hospital (BMH), which has a robust income but pays no taxes.  Yet, BMH, like many other businesses, legally shelters their income under the aegis of not-for-profit, or similar, tax designations.  The Retreat, the hospital, Montessori, the Co-op, Brattleboro Housing, etc., should, as good corporate citizens, pay a PILOT.  This applies in particular to businesses like WLT.  WLT currently does pay a kind of PILOT fee and this could be the basis for assessing other similar not-for-profits.  However, neither the town nor WLT has a clear and impartial understanding of what WLT should really be paying.  WLT’s study on their contribution to the tax roll was conducted with their own in-house consultant, but that report was flawed, and the town of Brattleboro never undertook its own independent study to determine the accuracy of that report.

Why shouldn’t the town collect a voluntary PILOT?   In addition to implementing a PILOT program, Brattleboro desperately needs to resolve its chronic mismanagement that is vividly demonstrated in the loss of hundreds of thousands of dollars with the River Garden project.  This glass house built in New England is a metaphorical representation of the town’s finances.  Whether it is the golden handshakes bestowed upon past town managers, the [MM1] obscene financial settlements awarded to the former police chief,  or the lawsuits because of chronic police mismanagement – in short, if Brattleboro were a private business it would have been bankrupt a long time ago.  The PILOT program can address some of the revenue issues, but it must be accompanied by a rare commodity – professional and responsible town management, and a select board that truly acts in the best long term interest of the community.

Implementation of a PILOT program, along with dramatic improvement of town management, can provide the means to address the shrinking tax base and support the economy that creates jobs and attracts businesses.  A PILOT is an idea that is long overdue in our community.

 

 

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Stasis & Too Long – Poems and coming home

by namaya on December 30, 2011

 STASIS          

cusp of the new year

 

cold night

and the fireplace

burns through all

the wood

 

in the morning

only faint embers

 

pond is wisps

of ice and the

rock has a crown

of white snow

 

impending snow

 

later today

 

birds tucked into

the thick shelter

of pines

 

snow flakes

as large as

thumb prints

 

fall

 

one

 

by

 

one

Too long since I had allowed myself this time

 

A poem is a lovely sanctuary.

 

Too much hurrying and occupation

as a writer to produce movies, plays,

television, or fodder for the popular

taste…

 

too much commotion to perform,

Facebook, connect with fans, and other

glitzy, and sometimes fun stuff.

 

Poems the sanctuary.

 

I miss this conversation with

my soul, this conversation that

may only have merit and worth

for me.

 

Painting, yes, a different kind

of intimate conversation.

Music, sometimes when I’m

alone with my classical guitar,

or singing a blues to the attentive

audience of the trees in my

backyard, that is a time for

privacy and sanctuary.

 

But this curious ideogram,

a poem, a vessel that can

hold these dreams and

aspirations of quietude.

 

The poem this room, stark

white with a small window,

that looks to heaven.

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