commitment to happiness

I think as artists and people and just adults we forget about our commitment to happiness...

so many of us are commited to other great desirables: independance, love,peace,education, mindfulness,awareness, fulfillment, success, society, family,friends, jobs and so on and so on..its almost like its part of our post-internet/cable tv/globalization/foriegn education sensibilty to look down just a little bit upon "living for the moment"...a term associated with chick fliks and feel good magazines..but this term is misinterpreted- we think it perpetuates an impulsive seeking of pleasure...but in fact it can be seen as pop lingo for some deep tenets of ancient spiritual knowledge banks such a zen buddhism which says- NOTHING COMES NEXT ,THIS IS IT! which in effect is an invitation to be so very present that it becomes impossible for the past or future to corrupt or intrude into ur now...make 'nowness' your only state..

so often we mistake pleasure for happiness- the other day i was having a conversation similar to the above with my best friend ..we came up with a metaphor...if a child wants a toy and you buy it for her, she experiences pleasure...but happiness is the general sense she will be surrounded and filled with when she's sittin on the floor in her room, playing with her toy next to her older brother who's having a chat on the phone with their parents in the next room watchin tv or doin something or even having a scrap...but this sense of being situated here surrounded by love,pleasure, peace and even conflict having a purpose or not..havin your own space or even navigating through anothers..just being..just existing- being included or being on the outside..being a part of this now and knowing that nothing can take away from the happening of this moment- this is happiness.

Much slower,much slower- there is a problem...

I was in front of you and now I'm not.

Through the Earth like a mole send your body so it returns to me..

I am only the particles you see in the sky from the sides of your eyes.

The shape of that body still occupies my spaces, still stimulates my muscles almost like inside me in the space between my breasts it dances its mind.

This mind has to get into every picture of sunny reality we allow.

Permission not seeked, life not lived, red not painted- how can we claim to follow the hallowed route to the musical jungle?

Something feels right- alot of it is in the bones. A hard feeling? A liquid sense? A blue place is where they are.