People, I hope spring is kicking in, wherever you are! Filling your hearts and souls full of sweet joy, peace, warm love and energy.
I don't know what my shy pen will choose to write about in this newsletter. But, I am certain something will come of these scribbles on paper. I must only keep my pen moving. My last newsletter #2, 2005 I spoke about racism, and about there only being one race, one people—you know earth people. As individuals, we are all different and unique, but as people, we are the same. All different color shapes and sizes is one of the beauties of us as people.
I knew some topic would come up for this newsletter. I want to speak about awareness—of observing oneself and nature. Just sitting being non judgmental along a riverbank or a stream, lake or pond. Being in the mountains, forest, meadow, park or the desert. Just watching, watching yourself; thoughts, vibes and feelings, as if from distance. Knowing that it is okay to be you.
Being in prison physically, if must watch myself often, and from a far. Because sometimes tears lay just beneath the surface. Sometimes I am working with so much emotion, so much feeling. I used to wear dark glasses every moment I was outside the cell and that helped keep my emotions and feelings hidden and hard.
After I discovered or undiscovered I could write and had realness ways of expressing my one foot in light, one foot in darkness. I took the shades off. I could write or act and express so much of that emotion and feeling I used to keep inside.
I used to keep all those feelings and emotion inside and to myself like great lakes of lava inside my soul and heart. Lakes getting deeper and deeper. , Waiting to explode into some reality.
This writing gives all that feeling and emotion—all that multi-colored lava some realness and expression. Realness writing comes from emotion and feelings. The lava lakes are replenished continuously; weather or not you release the lakes in realness creative ways. So the lava lakes like rivers flow lovingly into the ocean or create new land.
My little brother Krister from Sweden, who helps with the website and peace-G, tells me he has a tree. A tree he calls proud tree, he goes to sit under and with, for inspiration and communing. As a kid in the desert I had one of my favorite spot along the dry river, a big evergreen bush called the bee bush in spring and summer it was full of bees. I had another spot in the dry riverbed where I just went to be. I would put my ear to the sands to hear the underground river. The river was always dry except when some floodwaters came from the far, far away mountains seemingly from some distant land. People from Crooks Street who lived on the river bottom said there was underground water in the dry river.
It is cool to have a proud tree like Krister spoke of or the spot along the dry river as I had. A spot that in the same moment is inside us and outside us. A spot in nature that connects with that realness place inside you.
Perhaps a lot of us have cut ourselves off from that place. It's not an Eden or paradise. But then again who is to say we cannot have our own little oasis's? Or whatever we chose to call it. To get there we don't need any drug or drink. Just being aware and in touch with our own true realness.
PRISON DAY
I circled the yard, the prison track over 12 times today. So I got in over three miles. Walking fast, working on my heart. Four laps around the prison track is said to equal one mile. Some prisoner paced it out years ago.
Back in the cage and the warder in the gun tower just announced, prisoners are on lockdown until further notice. The warder then reads a bunch of nonsense orders about all that we will be depraved of while on lockdown, as if we weren't on lockdown we would get some real food or something.
Poetry in art room was suppose to happen tomorrow with guest poets coming inside, but warders don't care nothing about poetry or any out let that allows freedom to unfold. One said it is not gangster--littlie does he know.
The little slit of a window in the cell has been painted over. So that one cannot see outside to taste any of nature. I can hear the sweet spring rains tapping on the window. Today, one of the first days of spring, according to the calendar. Many days have passed and a second poetry day of the week has passed.
Knowing that spring is happening just outside the little window is hard at times. But I still see and feel spring and know it's going on.
All kinds of flowers blooming beyond the river of electric wire. Trees and sky's out there fat with bird song. A few baby sparrows already flying.
The beaches are warming up and the women are wearing their pearl white sandals. The bees, butterflies and moths are making out with flowers. Mother Earth happy to be a bit closer into the arms of the sun and smiles.
BIRD STUFF
Although there is that ban, a memo here against feeding the birds. Crumbs are magically falling out of the pockets and sleeves of few true bird communers. Food is appearing in places for the pigeons and black birds to eat.
All the places under concrete and metal roofs have been fenced or blocked up.
There are no hanging roofs were the birds can hang there little tail over to let go of any mess. The sky is only full of sky here—no trees or bushes, nothing taller than grass. No way for mushy missiles to fall on your head.
I am pleased the little band of bird communers is still feeding their flocks. When has a little bird do do hurt anyone?
I mean today the president Bush and his crew in Washington have decided it's okay to send destroyers of Mother Earth up into the Alaska wilderness to rape and rip the land apart of oil. Just to please his fellow oil king pins. Yet, enough people are not protesting that! And here the warders cry about bird feeding.
STAY REAL SECTION
I want to say hello to buddy Tabor in Alaska, who wrote a sung a great song about prison after his visit here of song and poetry. Hello to Zara and family in Angola.
I´, sending greetings to Bodil and Aida of Norway, I don't have your addresses! Also, Joanna Kragt from the late 80´s do send me regular letters! Oren and Joost from Australia, I'm glad you enjoyed our short film ” Three poems by Spoon Jackson” . It would be great to get an Australian stamp.
I want to say hello to my brother and Lena in Sweden! And to let people know that Stefan and I have created a CD called ” Freedom for the prisoners”, due out this year. For more information contact Stefan at e-mail address: safsten@svenskakyrkan.se
Also big thank you to Kelly B. who wrote this cool song for me. I would like to hear from you regular mail, so that I can thank you by mail. Robert from Sweden who wrote me this deep poem. I would like to thank you by mail too. Yes, I hear your poem and share with you the language of the spirit!
Lotta Enckell I need to hear from you!!
CLOSING THOUGHTS
Remember to be aware and observe yourself and what's around you. Keep the light and love of your heart and soul free.
Peace G be with you. Stay Real Spoon
