Some know Augusto as a teacher of Zen from … oh hell, how do I write an into to this? I just tip my glass of red wine to the blue horizon..
Doug Matsuoka
From: Augusto
To: DougWords of Vanity
Sailors!! Greetings from Aina Latino... Sharin' dis with u....
One Heart! Augusto
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Letter to a friend from
Dear Friend:
> Dear Augusto It seems like there has been some interference...Things seems to
> get edited out of my messages. I have been involved with the local anarchist
> community here and we have been harassed by the police all the time. I
> decided that it was not worth it and I have severed ties with sensitive groups
> as well as people who do not assist my position because of their profile. I'd
> like us to be friends though. I am deeply concerned about you as I have seen
> what happens to people here who are involved in political activities. During
> the 60's my friend was involved with Parents Without Partners and you should
> have seen what the media did to her...also when her friend tried to get a job
> through ASIO...they knew everything about her...we think we live in a free
> country...you've got to be kidding... although I'm not getting involved with
> anything subversive anymore Why do you still do it Augusto?
>
Because of 30000 brothers and sisters that were killed and tortured, because of the kids that were appropriated and their identity erased, because i was able to escape at the brink, because my love and partner is alive because she was late to a meeting and they did not take her, because i have two daughters that need a horizon, and because i can look into their eyes and answer any question they have about those years without feeling ashamed, but dign, because there is poverty, because 70 kids die every day because of the power's greed and ignorance, because there is a march in the whole country today and next sunday to remember and repudiate the day the military did came into power with blood and greed, and tried to murder the horizon and kill the Red Queen, because there is sunlight coming through my window, because my partner's kid needs medicines, as many other kids do, and they (we) cannot pay for them, and the power is letting them (we) die just because they are poor, or sons and daughters of workers, or brown, or black, or kids, or young, or old, or white, or.....to sum up, because they are different, as my down syndrome daughter is, and there is no place for the different, the undigestible, the other, in the gray and sterile world that the Power wants, making the Blue Planet flat (in their minds..) not wanting to shake fear and ignorance and to allow a rainbow to dance, making a new world in which many worlds can abide in freedom, justice and democracy, because of me, because of you, because of all the ones that i do not know but are brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers and grandmothers and
grandfathers, because of the ancient ones, because of the ones not yet born, because of the mistery, because of the dance, because of this heartbeat, because my heart and yours is at the left, because the blood is wonderfully red, because of the One Love, because of the One Heart, because of my love, because of you, but really, because clouds fly and sun warms and tobacco burns and rabbits have no horns and cats do not bark, this is, because of no-choice. Because of the Enough, because of the Never More, Never Again.
Because of the smile and because of the laughter and the hug. No-choice.
That is the shape of my heart. The mistery and the horizon and the dance are pregnant there. And because a few days ago, my younger daughter phone me late at night, concerned about rumors of military plans to come back into power, concerned about my destiny, her destiny, our one destiny, and the destiny of all he us that share the heart and the dance and the horizon. And because of the poem i wrote after hearing her.
never as any other
the end of the day gin
threshold of the poem and the dream
the memory of what comes
i would say ex-plores but no
in-plores the leafy flight
sowing genealogies.
A late phone call,
a voice of arrow
like root shot toward the mistery,
touching the breadth of death
inquires the horizon.
Will the beast came with the same face?
The past as nightmare of the tomorrow?
as a crow perched on the frame
of a door looking out to madness?
What can i do but laugh,
hug you in the distance and the cheer
this moment is already very old
and its pregnancy more ancient than the beast
the question is of gold
like the certainty and that wine
and that intense sea
with no reason nor why is danced
this is, lives, survives, heart
that longs as horizon
red of life and path and step
> Why not be benevolent and strong yet protective of those weaker than you
> without putting yourself at risk...?
>
As a weak one, i try to do this. .. You do not put yourself at risk, in this case... It is the Greed, Ignorance and Fear of the Power as always that puts you at risk but this risk is no bigger than the mysterious certain possibility of not being here next moment or what is more awesome, the possibility of being here and honoring this here with the dance...
Augusto
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