With A Graceful Toothless Smile

On the bluffs of Santa Monica, a few hours before the picture above, a homeless woman in a wheelchair, with a graceful toothless smile, gave me a box of coconut water and said, drink this, Zico; Ive got plenty and you need it more than I do. I see that water bottle in your hand, you’re depleted. You’ve gotta take care of yourself hun, get hydrated.

And your eyes are sad.

I am internal at this moment, walking in the beauty, but internal, pushing through a place in my mind, denying my sad eyes as if I not allowed a moment of dystopia in paradise.

Come sit down with me.

Then she smiled me into her world.

A serpent wisdom I cant resist

And it comes, words of wisdom, tangled emotions, and cliches that are stripped free from the cliche.

And I listen, I watch, I feel and I wait with wonder to hear what it is Im revealing to myself through this woman.

Thirty five years shes been coming to this dancing tree to connect with the earth and breathe the ocean deep.

The ocean will pull it all out of you, all that gunk. When you get all gunked up, come to her. It may hurt but shell heal yah.

She showed me her money making magic, green tattooed on her left palm, the silent incantation. And words balanced on oracle like laughter, floating off for others to catch.

Homeless now and again, waiting for a hip transplant, homeless now but taken care of, her smile attracts.

Theres nothing to fear in this life. Took me a long time to get that, but Id like to think I have. It all balances out.

And then it came, as it often does, when I meet women who have that touch of unbound electric truth.

First the beauty, the wisdom, the compassion and then the story of childhood traumas, of innocence undone, of stinging betrayals.

And then the resolve, I love life, all of it.

The serpent swallows its tail.

She spoke and I listened, stories only for my mind.

And as I walk away the question comes, “why do I speak to myself as such?”

The teachings are everywhere.

Wake up Walking Cloud, wake up.