My Current Obsession

Poi.
Cobra poi, to be precise.
Which are not as impressive or as terrifying as fire poi, but they are incredibly fun.
And are a precursor to surrounding myself with rings of fire.

For the uninitiated, poi were used many years ago, by the indigenous Maori people of New Zealand. They were used for different reasons, depending on the gender of the tribesperson, but were mainly to increase the flexibility and strength in their hands and arms as well as improving coordination.

The female Wahine dancers performed traditional dances with the poi. They used balls attached to flax strings, which were swung rhythmically around the body. They also kept rhythm on the poi by tapping them, producing a distinctive sound. The dance itself was originally used by the Maori women for keeping their hands flexible for weaving.

The males in the tribe used rocks for added weight, to help build up the strength and coordination they required during battle. They were also used as a training aid for other traditional Maori weapons like the patu, which was a short, club like weapon.

Modern poi focuses purely on spinning the poi, and not on the rhythmic sounds it can be used to produce. Modern poi comes in many formats, and has many influences, from the juggling community to the rave subculture.

Fire poi are probably the most visually impressive at night, but are the most dangerous and require the most preperation. They may also be illegal in some areas, not that legality is normally a major concern of mine. A safer, but still visually impressive night time poi are the glow poi. You may remember them from early raves, but they seem to be more of a States thing than a European thing.

Flag poi and tail poi are ideal for during the day, but many tailed poi come with uv reactive tails, which make them equally suitable for night performances, if you have a portable blacklight.

There are loads of different moves that can be done, but im only learning at the moment so my repetoire is minimal, and im not too good at the transitions between one move and the next. But it is such an addicticve experience, and getting that new move is so satisfying, that i think i'll stay spinning for a long time yet. I'm putting off the fire poi for a while, because i think playing with fire will be even more addictive.

The only other activity i can equate it with is yoga. It gives the same feeling of centring yourself, and gives you that vital self time, which so many people unfortunately neglect.

Burning Ever After

I dance
In circles of fire
And never think to doubt

The fire
That consumes me
From both inside and out

The burn
Is inconsequential
The heat is the only key

The flame
Is always appealing
But of no real use to me

My heart
Is now surrounded
By a thick, cold wall of ice

The heat
My heart produces
Will not really be suffice

To melt
The ice to water
To in time remove the chill

To start
Again with beating
And stop from being still

The ring
Of flames surround me
Their power is renowned

I need
The flames around me
To burn me to the ground

From spark
To huge inferno
Spreading like a rash

I dance
Amid my circle
Until all I am is ash

Marked Questions

Why does everything have to begin with a question?
Whatever happened to good, old fashioned facts?
Not that old fashioned facts can be trusted, most of the time.
I mean, the earth isn't flat, neither is it the center of the universe, and the sun isn't a fiery chariot speeding across the sky. But thats beside the point, thats just a tangent, and the questions alone give far too many paths to follow.

Why so many avenues to explore and directions to take?
Its yet another query.
Add it to the list.

I truly believe that the question mark is the most parasitic form of grammar available to human communication. You'll find it wriggling its way under your skin, into your thoughts, throwing up barbs that pierce your sub conscience until all thats left is tattered material, which lets thoughts and ideas leak and merge, becoming lost and uniform. They stick like glue and are never satisfied, feeding off your attempt at answers, and reproducing at an exponential rate, leaving you lost in a swarm of writhing, insistent, unanswerable questions, and to notice them at all is to give them a new lease of life.

They annoy me on the most basic of levels, disgust me with their very nature, but I'm fascinated by them, drawn to them at every turn, like some fairground ride that you know will make you sick, but that you cannot possibly leave behind without traveling its length.

Its not as if these things ever reach a conclusion, they end up meandering around and around, like some crazy carousel, lights flashing, people laughing, screaming, music turning your brain inside out, until bang! the ride stops and you're back where you started, feeling vaguely ill, and without ever really knowing where you've been.

But I know where I've been, and I know how to get there again, and it doesn't seem to matter which path I choose, be it backwards, forwards or sideways, I'll still get there. So, I figure maybe I should just sit down here, and not go anywhere for a while, which is fine, until I look around and realise that there is here now, and this has all been a waste of time.

Mindtrap

Im trapped.
Trapped in a prison of my own construction.
Prisoner and jailer, one and the same, stuck in the confines of a mind i no longer trust.
Incarcerated by my own thoughts, in a world shaped by my own experiences.
Can i escape this place?
As jailer i have the key, and as prisoner i have the desire, but together, i am divided.
To divide is to conquer, but equally true, and in fact, opposite, to be conquered is to be divided.
To be vanquished by oneself is the ultimate victory, and the ultimate defeat.
To be beaten by someone who is your equal and opposite, to test yourself against yourself, to emerge victorious over your reflection, while simultaneously lying at your reflections feet.
How else are you to test yourself to capacity?
How else to know the extent of your limitations?
You alone know the answers.
So i stay trapped.

And if i were to escape?
I would be lost.
A prisoner with no boundaries.
A keeper with naught to keep.
What point then, of continuing?
Each side loses its defining feature, each loses its identity, and becomes unfamiliar to itself in a suddenly unfamiliar world.
What choice has a prisoner set free?
With no boundaries, there is no safety, nothing reliable. So, the option is that of running, knowing without shadow of doubt that all running is pointless, that there is nowhere to go, nowhere left that will protect and save..
And the jailer faces a similar loss of purpose, with nothing to hold on to.
What point has a jailer with no cell to watch?
What is left, but the urge to retain what once was lost, the need to find what once existed, the unstoppable desire to own and posess.
And as the desire for possesion remains unfulfilled, the jailer becomes the thing that is empty, a void of purpose, a pointless existance.
What once was desired becomes forever lost, and as realisation dawns, then so does despair. Despair replaces desires hooks with barbs of its own, catching the soul, peircing it through, and rending it further apart with every breath.
Alone and despairing, i would be lost.

So what then, am i to do, but sit and watch the open door, and dream of somewhere new?

A Fortune Cookie

"All around me darkness gathers,
Fading is the sun that shone;
We must speak of other matters:
You can be me when I'm gone

Flowers gathered in the evening,
Afternoon they blossom on;
Still are withered by the evening:
You can be me when I'm gone"

By Neil Gaiman, in The Kindly Ones