I've marched/stood arm-in-arm for education, cultural awareness, democracy (at home), elimination of nuclear dumping on Native land (& near poor people in general) and the healing of the Earth Mother. I would march again for these things as well as freedom & safety for all. I'd also march for actualization, to spread the word that our infancy in over...the imbalanced manipura, the seat of self, with it's out-of-whack fears and ego brings its end.

The first spiritual chakra is the Love (heart) chakra, anahata, and our energy has to rise to that level...but we've got to let go of our fears and ego to do it.

Peace and responsibility to the individual!

 ...life is a dream.... (ok, I couldn't help it!). Life is a drama-comedy series starring a lot of kozmic crazees dropped off in drag. We're hiding our true selves but we're here for the same purpose...accelerated evolution. It's the grand lesson plan: the detention for bad behavior (karmic & otherwise) is severe, your packed lunch has a lot of weird stuff in it that you're not sure what to do with yet (and who packed this sh*t anyway?!), but every time you do good on a serious exam, you get a hall pass (and what a hall it is!).

What is life? Life is a spell
What is life? No one can tell

So, in my most true and reverent demeanor, I humbly reside here in a frail shell of flesh, in paltry 3D, limited to sequential...time, as it were, to take part in the incredible transmutation of which we are on the eve!

 

What is life? I try to see
What is life? It's unity
What is life? I try to feel
What is life? It's really real...

Lyrics: Derrick Simpson
of Black Uhuru (1982)

 

I've been missing fresh air in the daylight! I had so much mundane work to do inside. But today was great because it's a beautiful, windy March day and I went to Annapolis to for the governor's Global Warming Solutions Act rally. Finally, the sun on my skin (and for a good cause)!

 

It seems like a simple question; but, after reading some of the posts, I feel more confused about tomorrow than ever. At first, I was only confused as to whether we were talking about tomorrow tomorrow or the world of tomorrow. But that's all irrelevant anyway because time is meaningless since, in the ubiquitous scheme of things, time doesn't really exist (i.e., all time exists at the same time).

So, this time thing? It's like a 2D reflection of 4D: a mere sequential expression of something more complex.

So, here's to...tomorrow (and, today, for that matter): http://www.humancalendar.com/

 

Ooooh, what a totally loaded question! I reside about 2.5 standard deviations to the left of the mean; so, "normal" refers to those other folks hangin' out about the central tendencies of society (yes, that would be the dominant insanity). I can see them from here, just as I can see the people at about 3 standard deviations out. Yeah....that's it.

Also, I must say that, since my teen years, my long-standing view of normalcy has been from a geometric perspective (hadn't learned anything about statistical analysis yet). So, "normal," for many moons of my life, has been visualized as the sphere of reality on which a fringe-dweller can attach his/her platonic solid at a single point (yeah, it could be a tangent line, too; but how many peeps on the fringe are linear?). Through this point, one can move in and out of the sphere as necessary. In the sphere, I tend to give the external impression of being of the sphere (that would be before anybody actually engages me in a revealing conversation). Of course, there's always the danger that one could lose one's connection to the sphere (that could be good or bad). You might be trapped in the sphere forever or locked out forever (or, at least until you reconnect).

 

How do we create? Inner alchemy. I'm an artist, have been forever; so, my feelings about creation come from that perspective. It's a compulsion...irresistible...a force that urges up from the first chakra and animates the body, wanting to energetically & radially explode like the "blood lightning" of the God-like, left-handed hummingbird (Huitzilopochtli). It's the manifestation of the inner aspect of the divine (as above, so below), that connection that aligns us, synchronizes us, with the universal & dominant energy pattern of what "is" (Gaia, Al-lat, Allah, Re, Eshoo, YHWH, etc.). It's the expression of the sacred in a way we can almost understand and definitely feel.

The more in-synch the alignment, the more intensely passionate the creative force. Therefore, at its most perfect, the alignment is like a binding, an orgasmic fusion with everything that is: a peak experience, a silent scream of joy & pain in your head but not in your head. It's in some sort of vast, endless place with no echo that feels like levitating in the energy waves over an ocean (...see? This is why I don't do drugs). Opening to this powerful fusion causes one to retract one's claws, literally & figuratively, in order not to shred everything in proximity. This retraction is a channeling behavior; it forces the searing energy, raging for an outlet, through the meridians and glowing, spinning vortices of activated consciousness. The resulting rush of creative manifestation can exalt one to the realm of the Gods or bring one crashing to his or her knees.

Ah! Perhaps the reason some artists go mad (for lack of a better term) is because of the rapturous destruction. I mean, if it calls for it, how can you not offer your mind as sacrifice to the crucible of creation, the Great Alchemy? And, even though part of your neural net can get blown out, a fully-activated artist would not hesitate and could not resist offering the self for the transmutation & manifestation of formlessness into form.

That all seemed very harsh, but it's not. It feels GOOD! I feel driven to create and consider it the engine of my consciousness, my quinta essentia. It is what I am and not to create requires mindful suppression & vigilant effort. I was suppressing somewhat (hangin' out in the mainstream sphere); but, here's Gaidz to give me an outlet ~ Reminding me that suppression is too much work...why do that when you can be free and crazy?

Just let it out, y'all!

"Joy exploded through me and I tore apart,

atom from atom, in the love of it...

...a matchstick fallen into the sun..."

 

[Richard Bach - The Bridge Across Forever]

world travel and wisdom-seeking. yep.

Being a warrior for...thinking! It's easy to just accept information because an authority figure or book says it's true or for the greater good. With a little research, cognitive processing (and a dose of intuition, which is considered an empirical way acquire knowledge), the individual can find/see/intuit the truth of many things. This is important to me (and frequently my charge) since I teach, off and on, in the university setting. I take it seriously that I'm in a position to transmute how young (and some older) adults perceive the world and analyze information. So, I choose to get them to think beyond the veil (Why is Leonard Peltier still in jail? Is US currency just paper? Do you know where Coca-Cola gets the water it bottles? Why are you driving so fast to the traffic light when gas is over $3/gallon...you're not going anywhere! What will be the next evolution of the human? How can you learn the analysis of variance when your brain is full of excito-toxins? etc.). I consider my twists in their thought processes my contribution to the coming new world.

And, it makes me smile to see the spread of results: students discussing some of these questions with non-students; wood & hemp malas, made in statistics class & consecrated with essential oils, being carried by students even after they graduate;  students trying to empty their minds, za-zen style; applying their analytic skills to the evaluation of rainwater pollutants; etc. Oh, and even being able to speak about the Apocrypha and Septuagint.

Love it! Hope my bit helps!

Where is the apple cart? Ok, that's the second most important question, courtesy of Brother Theodore. This most important question is from Masks of the Illuminati:


And, once you make it to the level of the 3rd or 4th Kemetic soul, ye shall know.

    ...careful what you ask for...

Rebirth is the natural cycle of the holy wheel of the year. If we align ourselves with nature, spring becomes a great opportunity to discard what doesn't work or is no longer needed and embrace things/ideas/people that do work in our currently playing reality. So, I try to do spring cleaning and rebirthing with Gaia.

As for changes that have followed a larger cycle, I spent almost 2 years out of physical contact with my family (too much unnecessary drama!) in order to heal my emotional self (although not catastrophic in effect, it was more damage than I typically like to carry). I even made a postcard and sent out to them saying that I was operating in steath mode and they would be contacted if and when I re-emerged (actually, a guy from the Black Engineering Society coined a phase that I really like and some friends and I still use: IncogNegro - i.e., a clandestine African American ;) ...that's what the front of the postcard said.

So, during this time, I implimented healing things into my life, yoga, raks sharki, spiritual knowledge acquisition, tea time, etc. I redesigned some of my behaviors to reflect what my enlightenment vision was. Most importantly, I stopped engaging in pathological rumination with folks who just wanted to complain about their probs (over & over), but never try to change the unwanted situations (even though it was totally in their power to do so). I also recognized that they were emotionally hurtful to others because they were unhappy and I couldn't help them if they chose to stay in the negative energy. I was not evolved enough to pull them out against their will, but I was definitely leaving the negative energy field...had to.

Now, here I am on the other side of that and I realized last year that the only way to complete the healing was to reconnect with them. That's when I knew that I had finished my process. That requirement seemed weird, but it was necessary to restablish the new nature of interaction. Some family members have since told me that they didn't understand what I did, but now they do because they find themselves in similar negative energy situations that require action...and they are doing what must be done. They get it now.

Going incognegro was really important and took alot of willpower and it created the healing vessel for my transformation.

I imagine it's the same stuff that's in here...we just don't know how to wield it all yet.

Ohmsmom has me thinking about definitions of Truth. She obtained one from Webster: something that is so clearly conforming with reality or fact, that it hardly needs to be stated. And the definitions I've seen are all pretty similar. Poetic scientist, Avicenna, said that truth is a 1-to-1 correspondence with what's inside the mind to what's outside the mind. I don't know how "clearly conforming" that might be; but, again, there's this idea of "reality." So, before I can conclude that truth and beauty are interchangeable, I need to know what truth is, therefore, I need to know what reality is...and I don't. I exist in only 3 dimensions and am limited within to that with which I can correspond without. I can't fully realize the truth of things until my mind is more expanded. Maybe that's what the idea of sequential time is for, so that one may have a wide enough window to make this leap of evolution/enlightenment.

And would it be beautiful? Oneness (i.e., 1-to-1 correspondence) with reality, that which "is," conveys the idea of oneness with everything (i.e., a peak experience, a connection to the divine)...sub-molecular, energetic binding with creation...that will be beautiful...

...and, perhaps, at the end of the last incarnation, that mingling of truth & beauty is achieved (a-HA!) as it might have been for Francois Lemoyne who, just a day after he painted this work, left his body where he found it and gave himself back to the Gods ~


 

                     Time Saving Truth from Falsehood (1737)

Well, you'd think it would've been petal-to-the-metal trying to stay on the snow/rain border of a blizzard as I bolted out of South Dakota or when I was one of 20+ people that had to get in a bank vault during a tornado (it was hot in there!); but, the fiercest storm I experienced was in Minnesota where you'd better know the weather or you could die. I had adapted to the -20 degrees F (without the wind chill) and the fact that you couldn't warm your hands with your breath because, as soon as it left your body, it was cold and that, on many days, you couldn't stay outside more than 3 minutes.

But, one day I was looking off the balcony of my high-rise apartment and saw this huge, black thing coming over the horizon. I turned on the weather channel and the weatherperson said there was a "wall cloud" coming (...wall cloud???). Seriously, I felt like I was in a horror movie: ...Unbeknownst to the locals on this calm day, there was a cthulhulian-like creature approaching the city... (...tsathoggua...?). I'd never seen anything like that before, it was amorphous and dragging across the ground...

                                              Katrina wall cloud (wut2c.com)
                          Yog Sothoth, save me! The three-lobed, burning eye!

...and, when it hit, you could barely see! Everything was blowing sideways and I watched a tornado form right between my apartment building and the one across from me that had 2 guys also watching the action unfold. Being the typical scientific idiot, I wanted to see what was going on while TV announcers were telling everyone to go to the basement (wow, I'm one of those people that would die in a horror movie, huh?). So, I decided that, if the guys in the building across from me high-tailed it, so would I (I was physically prepped like I was ready to steal 3^rd base so I could bolt for the hall door). They were probably thinking the same thing (... "we're not gonna punk out before that chick does..."). Luckily, the tornado dispersed because the guys and I would have been in some serious trouble.

Have I had my heart broken? I don't think I look at it that way. I smile when I think of my dog who died when I started college (I would have taken care of him lovingly forever). I watched my mother's moment of death; I saw the life leave her shell (my father was outside to flag down the ambulance, so I was the only one who witnessed it). She was resusitated and died many moons later and actually died on my birthday. That shocks people, but I smile because what an amazing gift, to wait to leave this incarnation on the day that I came into it...it was like a very intimate, personal goodbye.  I feel like she passed her powerful energy onto me as she discarded her shell. How cool is that?

I've had the blessing of speaking to the elders in my family before they have died as well and learned awesome things. I do wish that I could have been more mindfull earlier and learned more. Because of that, even at the collegiate level, I give an assignment of questions to my students to have them answered by the oldest person in the students' families that they can find. The students come back enlightened and grateful (one student told me that she interviewed her grandmother and great-grandmother and they both died in a car accident a week later; so, she was thankful for the experience).

I guess what I'm saying is that I've never perceived reality from the perspective of a broken heart, everything is a lesson plan for evolution and that's why I'm here. And, if I think I learned the lesson, I'll humbly pass it on to be digested as it will.

...unhurt, unstruck, unbeaten...

Where do I want to be, in every aspect, in 2012 CE?

"War tastes like blood; courage tastes like cinnamon." 

Sarah Browning quoted these words of Kurdish child poets from Iraq, now refugees in Virginia, who were in Washington, DC last weekend for the Split this Rock Poetry Festival. March 19^th marked the 5^th year of the Bush administration's Iraq invasion and protests were held nationwide. The festival culminated a week of local anti-war events.

First, Maryland hosted Winter Soldier "II" from March 13-16: 3 days of eyewitness testimonies from US soldiers who occupied Iraq & Afghanistan (the first Winter Soldier testimonies were in Detroit in 1971: Vietnam vets, same crap, different decade).

 "Ladies and gentlemen, I hate guns. I spent ten years in the military, and I carried two of them on my side in Iraq, but I think they should be melted down and turned into jewelry. To this day, that is the worst thing that I have ever done in my life. I am a peaceful person, but yet in Iraq I drew down on an eighty-year-old geriatric woman who could not see me, because I was in front of a desert-colored vehicle-or, excuse me, desert-colored building wearing desert-colored camouflage."  
    

Jason Hurd (10 years of service: US Army & Tennessee's 278^th Regimental Combat Team in Iraq)Part of his testimony at the Winter Soldier hearings in Maryland 

The soldiers told the facts and their feelings about everything: hung-over contractors who were paid 4 times better, the stop-loss policies of excessive tours of duty, drop weapons & shovels (to drop by a killed Iraqi who turned out to be unarmed), the disintegration of the "rules of engagement,' over-medicated PTSD soldiers, health care and more than you ever wanted to know but need to. Amy Goodman of Democracy Now interviewed Vietnam vets, Camilo Mejia (considered the first soldier to refuse to be re-deployed in Iraq) and other "GI Resistance" organizers.

On March 19^th, not only were Maryland eco-warriors & steel workers lobbying in Annapolis, not only was actor Russell Crowe hangin' out at historic Ben's Chili Bowl in DC (drat!), but local non-violent protesters lined the major government buildings in the nation's capital. Before I arrived at the IRS building, 31 folks had already been arrested. Participants objected to money collected by the IRS being used to help finance Bush's war instead of social programs at home. Over a hundred creative folks were there and 20 sponsoring organizations. Ultimately, participants marched toward the White House and lots of cops were afoot that might have been mostly Homeland Security. This is the first time I've seen their vehicles; I didn't know they actually had a cop force of their own...creepy.

GWU 3/23/08

And then, from March 20-23, the poetry festival took place. Split this Rock was borne from the desire of many to lift their voices against this war (spearheaded by DC Poets against the War) and for a healthier, more democratic existence. Sonia Sanchez opened the festival which was held at several venues, including the famous Busboys & Poets (owned by Iraqi-American, Anas Shallal) named for Langston Hughes (who was both). The title of the festival also comes from a line of Langston's poem, Big Buddy.

I recently realized how powerful blogging can be. Attending the festival fully reconnected me with how powerful words can be in general.

How:

• Walt Whitman wrote his objections of the presidency & congress of his time,
• award-winning poet, Sharon Olds, formally declined Laura Bush's National Book Festival invitation because of the Bush war policy in the most cutting and eloquent way,
• Pam Uschuk's husband went from a big-publishing house author & New Yorker contributor to being black-balled  because he refused to remove a poem he had written about the Afghanistan occupation from an upcoming book,
• Rumi-translator, Coleman Barks, was invited to a presidential event and took the opportunity to point out to President Bush the mistake of "staying the course" in a poetic work inspired by a chance meeting with a soldier's father.

Their words were razor sharp...who can express the spirit of a nation better than the poet?!

Last Wednesday, I was at the IRS to bear witness more so than march. Sunday, being an artist, I marched with the poets, from George Washington University to the White House, watching the police watch us, following all the rules: walk on the sidewalk, no tripods or other stand-alone structures, bags must be no more than 3 feet from you at all times...a very different Amerika.

We arrived at Lafayette Park (directly in front of the White House) where other poets met us to create a cento, a combination of many poem lines into one creative work. The police brought in one of their dogs to check the stage (the only allowed stand-alone structure) for concussive poetry before we began.

Earlier in the day, author Naomi Ayala read one of her poems in which she sang to War so that War would leave. Don't forget the power of the word; perhaps, we all need to sing.

Evolution is change. So, I try to contribute by being myself, encouraging the unique contributions of others and connecting with those in the dominant sphere as well as on the fringe. That way, we can weave a blanket of many differentiated threads and patterns, but one under which we all can snuggle up and have blissful dreams and sparks of insight leading to the next mass evolutionary event.





http://wilderdom.com/