Cyclic Constants

Ram Dass looks up at the sky, manifests a deep cycle of breathing and declares, "a good day to talk about death." He smiles and continues his climb up his elevator to his room. This phrase leaves me in a mild blur. My eyes dart all over the sky probing for the trigger for his haunting statement. I look out to the ocean, no tsunamis there. I look for dark shadows in the sky that would provoke a prophecy about impending doom but see only fresh brush strokes of light and fire spread out over the canvas held up by the clouds. My eyes settle on the luminescent art and a grin sprouts over my face. I dive deep into thought and ponder why this breathtaking portrait gave RD such a powerful peace.

The wind selects a color and uses the palm brushes to paint the sky. Each evening the sun bleeds an orange wash which wipes the canvas black, left sprinkled with diamonds. Every morning the ink is spread out for the wind to create again, recycling old ideas and bringing in new. The paint doesn't always dry before the piece is hung for display. Oils and inks dyed orange and pink dip low and sprinkle out over the ground, mixing with the ocean, and sustaining the plants. The face of the waves is painted to mirror the sky as they attempt to stretch and blend into the stratosphere. Moses and Mogli ride on the golden sea, cruising over puddles of magenta and turquoise.

The earth shakes beneath the sand. Most of the island remains calm as the seismic forces swim through the crust playfully without interrupting the harmonies established on land. Only the fingertips of trees feel any difference. This "quake" is not caused by the convergence of tectonic plates, but created by the collaboration of the rhythmic harmonies of djembe drums being wildly thrashed. The drums form a circle in the sand as men and women gather, stripping themselves of their shackles, unbinding themselves from the fabric of society. Howling at the black sky, these beings produce movements and shapes that their bodies have been eagerly awaiting to release. Finally set free, the wild spirits of the crowd grow into a chaotic celebration of the cycles of light and darkness.