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We are all bridges

What’s in a title? Do I wanna be a bridge? The third from the left, portal at’s homepage, why is it named Wordbridge? Looking for a name for this zone-for-communication — a confluence of ‘voices’, the hub of perceptions, the idea-exchange in the hidden grotto, with or without words, I felt the need for some guidance more in touch with mothership earth (in 2020 I learned how to just lie down on the ground in the park and surrender myself to nature–not try to meditate or achieve anything whatsoever). Dwelling in the Yin. Nut. But I live in the world of publishing where words are paramount while life’s experience have always been a bridging and fording of divides. Words being strings of consonants and vowels that can create galaxies of forms, feelings, perceptions, energy and consciousness, out of nothing, why not a Word-bridge? Yang. Ruler. To invoke that being ancient as the human species, I appeal to the ‘Guardian’ messenger of Thoth, Hermes and buddha Manjushri, quietly standing at the gate, you owner of the elegant male Veve, the debonaire lord of the crossroad, great communicator and revealer of secrets, you, one with a limp and a crutch, the one that came to the Americas from Africa in wooden ships to become naturalized through the devotions of a resilient people, I beseech you, reveal to us the hidden and sacred path past the crocodiles that snap at our heels. Deep down South, see the old man with his dog looking at the sunset? Brings it all home for me at least, remembering Allen Toussaint singing: Southern nights, have you ever seen the southern nights? There is continuity. We, are all immigrants here save the first peoples. Who among us has paid sufficient dues to dwell in this land gilt free? Not anyone but many among us, the majority in fact, a sleeping giant, now stirring. “Indian country’ is now out of the reservation, a parallel world for colonized people to see and reflect on. (go to As the great sEar Jimi Hendrix sang, “I wanna hear see everything….I wanna know about the new mother earth….” For anyone reading this who may be of native American ancestry, as publisher of this zone, I am inviting writers, wordsmiths and artists to send your queries to (created by yours truly, an E. Indian immigrant New Yorker via Africa). Let us together create and sustain new worlds of harmony yet unseen on these shores that are free of the historic blight attached to the birth of this nation. What does it mean to ‘naturalize’ in this great but ravaged land? The problem is not race ( there is no pure race) but a perishable irrational prejudice, ignorance and fear, not compatible with the future we seek, on a fast track to extinction. Jump ship while you can, or, walk across the bridge. — Tej