Ramzan Notes, Early Evening, Day 13

Today Doris came in the morning for yoga. We rolled out our mats in the gabled room on the third floor, the one I want to paint bright orange but which Marco wants to paint light blue.

Perhaps one wall orange and one wall blue?

Orange is the color of the sixth chakra, the one which governs creativity, expressiveness, sexuality.

It’s one of my favorite colors and I know it well from my years of traveling by air, years of being selected for the “random searches.”

The terror threat advisory has been “raised” to orange, we are told. But really it’s been at orange for eight years. The day after the inauguration it was dropped to yellow I nearly wept.

Though returned to orange it has.

Orange the little fruit I peeled open this morning. Orange the sun on the horizon as it sets.

Orange alert means now is the time for creative expression, for flowering, now is the time, more than any other, to eschew practices of exhaustion and death, and turn towards our interior sources of love and light.

Outside the window I catch sight of Doris walking her dog. Other friends of ours stop by on their bike ride and have some tea.

I like when people gather around. I believe that art and art-making can be part of this community-building and peace-making practice which it is essential we undertake at this historical moment.

After yoga I spent all day making final adjustments to a manuscript of essays on poetry and art called “Orange Alert.”

Orange alert because as my hunger can be directed to a more focused practice of yoga and of writing, I think our capacity for positive action outweighs our destructiveness but we’re never going to find it until we empty ourselves and look.

The leaves of the dogwood are turning orange. Which means the earth is swinging around the sun; each day the fast-breaking time shortens by two minutes because the days are getting shorter and shorter.

Fire that summit of orange can nurture or combust.

A body that eats food burns food all day long and requires more.

A body that fasts has to learn a new way, to sustain its energy and nurture itself; it cannot burn because it becomes dimly aware that the better you burn, the faster you burn and that when you burn you must create more and more fire.

If you don’t find more and more fire then all you will have left is ash.