open. air. market.

stay close to any sounds that make you glad you're alive.

~hafiz

fact or fiction, is the mind ready?

open~ for any experience to come rushing through. any experience that might inform the rest of your days.



open to sounds of the clamour, of the hundreds of bumping shoulders speaking languages foreign and familiar. sounds of instruments strummed and blown, and the percussion of footsteps on surfaces woven and fired.

open to smells of citrus and spice. sweet bundles of cut grasses and animal sweat. the smell of hot sun on linen, and mint tea.

open to the feel of plush carpet, roughly woven basket, smooth bead and hot stone. to the touch of strangers brushing past, the nuzzle of a stray dog.

open to tasting dust on your tongue. tasting the burst of a pomegranate seed. tasting sweat mixed with lemon cakes.

open to sights that dazzle, confuse, and affirm. to sights that raise curiosity and consciousness.

****

open air~ in this maximalistic place, there must be space to process, and expand. outside, with the boundless blue rising forever above you, you may find breath, and you may find peace. or, you may feel suffocated and full of turmoil. but you'll find something there, in the spaces between. in the air that holds all this cacophony together. in the air that is life.

****

market~ are you here to buy or to sell?

what are you 'buying' at this 'market'? what do you buy for necessity? what for decadence? are you aware of what you're buying? of what you're supporting? do you 'purchase' from friends, or from the booth with reputation? where is your 'money' best spent, or saved?

you know in this 'market' that there is anything you could imagine or dream to buy. this 'market' is so full of choices and textures. will you make a purchase here? or here?

and what are you 'selling' in this 'market'? what do you have in excess that others need? that others want? is that 'good' for sale? and how will you 'sell' your wares? will you stack them neatly on display for all to see at a glance? or will you tumble them into a basket that must be dug through, with frantic fingers and excited eyes... searching for that hidden treasure? will you hold your best work back for that certain customer you can always expect, or will you let the universe decide?

well?

are you open to this market?

the steam rises of my lemon tea, to clear my thoughts, and smooth my brow.

so it is.