Crossroads Dispatches

the Red PIll & Indy 4 and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

"If this weren't your only lifetime, this weren't your only timeline, this weren't your only galaxy, would *you* be an alien?" - eve11

I was recently asked my opinion of the paranormal and alien beings aspect of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

What follows is more than mere movie spoilers. If you're squeamish about taking the Red Pill (especially in regards to alien beings or the so-called paranormal), you may want to skip this post altogether. I was called as never before to share my uncensored, straightforward thoughts (as much as I've written publicly, my totally uncensored musings are quite rare). The sheer amount of disinformation that is being leaked, and circulating these days urges me to write, although my preference is to operate under the radar. I rather be utterly silent than speak untruths, lately.

Don't worry if you don't think you're 'ready' to recall truths now or not. You can skip this post. Anytime anyone cares to sincerely to find truth, they do - even if it's like needle in haystack of propaganda. (Needles in haystack are electromagnetic, too.) You can always choose again.

I'm wavering. Losing courage. When, now, I walk into the neighborhood coffee shop. Coffea, for a cafe au lait and WiFi. Do I publish, or do I not? I walk in to see the owner wearing this T-shirt: "In Coffea there is truth." So here goes....

The paranormal aspect of the film is the easiest to address. The Russian military scientist in Indiana Jones 4 references exploration of the paranormal for psychic warfare and ways to "control the mind of Man" yet never was anything of the like employed within the movie. Only bumbling brute force was ever witnessed through every scene.

However, the movie in and of itself is an attempt in mind control by the military-entertainment complex. Which doesn't mean you shouldn't watch it as it's not the first nor last instance, but use your discernment and keep your eyes wide open.

A friend steeped in hypnosis training noted the trailer preceding the beginning of Indy 4 flashed, "We will control you." He announced aloud in the theater: "Of course, you will awaken to a non-suggestible state." A couple of people chuckled. (We were setting the intention of not being hypnotized by the suspension of disbelief that movie-watching fosters.)

For the benefit of your own soul growth, you may chose to participate in the illusion of mind control, yet your Self knows it cannot control or be controlled.  It's all unique choice - no telling what helps you flower into expressing more infinite you. Some of my most traumatic moments in hindsight were the turning points and catalysts (though kicking my butt) in my evolution.

When your knowing allows knowing you are not your body, you will be aware of fourth density (4D). When your knowing allows knowing you are not your mind either, you will be aware of fifth density (5D). Then the real adventure begins, and the most adrenaline action-packed movie will pale juxtaposed beside the limitlessness of embodied oneness.

There are several seeds planted in your mind (4D) by the film. That is, seeds besides the typical entrainment of the linear formula: the ol' good guys versus the bad guys to drum in the frequency of 3D duelity/duality. As well as the typical power over others as the ultimate prize/reward. (Good news: There is nothing that could whatsoever be planted, hooked, or otherwise cling to your ungraspable flowing 5D-plus self, so no worries.)

"Until I was 28 we knew only about our own galaxy. In 1923 Hubble discovered another galaxy. Since [then] we have discovered 2 billion more." - Buckminster Fuller

Before you read further, watch this short 5-minute video for sense of how 5D-plus "alien" beings interact.

with an apple I will astonish Paris

“With an apple I will astonish Paris.” - Paul Cezanne

A friend is picking apples and other delectables in an organic farm in Washington state. For the record, I'm typing this on a computer, I have a BSEE (that's collecting dust), so it's not exactly like I'm a primmie. I sense that gardens and geometry (yet another rabbit hole of a storyline) are the hubs of the gaiac equation. Here's a short excerpt of a recent chat with my friend:

9:40 PM me: aha, read this...This is so very close to what I envision as art colony,eARTh...

"Everyone needs their own space. And everyone needs a space in which they can be a community. Eating and meeting determine the communal space. The garden is in common, and all craft and artistic activities are best executed autonomously and anonymously as a collective whole. We each breathe and live in the same common space. Who is to say where the inspiration comes from? The cook in the kitchen cooks the beets which make the soul of the poet come alive. Was the poem in the beet and the love of the cook before it became a song in the mind? Give thanks to all beings and take credit for nothing. The Creator sustains the flow." - Sixteen Principles for the Reunion of Condor and Eagle

9:42 PM faun: perfect

9:43 PM me: so very perfect, so the garden of eden spirals forth again...thinking i will leave here in a month, thinking maybe NOLA, but just pack and it'll be obvious

thinking of community gardens, gardens in abandoned yards(homes)

9:46 PM faun: similar conversation tonight was over food not bombs; a friend said gardens not lawns

me: yes!  oui!

9:48 PM faun: as you've once said; serendipity

one day the dream of a tree house; a forest; a garden; alternative/solar energy . . .

  peace love & light

me: one day very soon, gaia would like that too

9:49 PM faun: ecovillages everywhere

9:50 PM me: i am off to skip to find spot in america that people desire that, and to create art rather than work 9-5 to pay cable bill

9:51 PM faun: something authentic

9:52 PM   what we were created for; art

Indeed, what we were created for -- to create Art on eARTh.

"You want a revolution? Don’t pick up a gun. Pick up a hoe." - John Mohawk

p.s. I rigorously rambunctiously suggest you join the Twitter twibe, I'm at eve11. It's one way for artists to collectively share and mutually support our work towards building eARTh colony wherever our home and heart is. Sure, right now there is a glut of techies and PR folk on Twitter, but I'll plug you into the network of green lovers, artists and poets, if you email me privately. It definitely doesn't work to read Twitter. Its genius is not in broadcasting news; but enabling moment to moment haiku-like two-way dialogue. The Maitreya effect of friend to friend to friend in action. It's active participation (SMS aka text messaging is bonus), collaboration and bouncing inspiration back and forth that makes it worthwhile.

ART Paul Cezanne's Still-life with Apples or, Nature morte. Les Pomme; Paul Cezanne's Vessels, Basket & Fruit

have you heard the Taoist tale of "The Taming of the Harp?"

Ah yes, this Sunday starts off in that in-between space that lies between pillows where inspiration snuggles, arching its back in sync with the dawn peering over the horizon. Where images are conjured of New Heliopolis and the first time Raj greets Awen (dear me, I'm getting ahead of myself) juxtaposed over recollections of the ancient two-story library in Lisbon swirling into a story of its own choosing.

"trees are light written in the calligraphy of the sun" greeted this morning's Twitter. Hmmm, now we are simmering (if not exactly cooking). Maybe my luck is turning, she mumbles to myself, although she doesn't believe in luck.

The last few days my Tarot cards have hinted in a break in a month-long streak of the blahs. Some call it writer's block. Some call it a creative slump. Some call it a disconnect from Source (as if). Some call it the cosmic energy and planets aren't aligned in my chart. But you know the blahs, you know what I'm talking about regardless of labels and pins.

"My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away." - The Song of Songs 2:10-14

A continuous series of Magus, Sun, Magus in a row leads to a blurt: "No more wishful thinking." I mutter to no one in particular: "The time has come for willful thinking." (Yes, yes, she is totally jibing with the fact that willful thinking has resulted in this grand planetary mess hall, more aptly Mess Hell. It's a little different when you're well aware that if and whence one drops the high-and-mighty act, there's one will and you're It.)

More twitters that illuminate inspiration flutter through the windowsill:

"The best conversations require no words at all, and lead people to the same end point of understanding." - You Decide aka Matt Charron

And then:

"Art seems a conversation without words, reaching deep into our emotional well producing an indescribable reaction." - You Decide aka Matt Charron

Later, in the electronic inbox:

"Everything is the Divine expressing itself as tree, as dog, as person, as thought, as emotion, as light, as sound.  No boundaries. No one. Only One. Only the Divine creating and expressing itself through life." - Gina Lake (of RadicalHappiness.com), Radiance: Experiencing Divine Presence (the entire book's available as a 66-page PDF)

I'm finding you can live on poetry, myth and magic. Not subsist. Gloriously feast. (Of course, perfumed grapefruits and ripe black mission figs - they're royal purple not black - are necessary ingredients too). A princely sum of $1.05 for a bag of lentils. I throw in some oranges from the neighbor's tree that droops over our fence, and the fresh ginger that we used for brewing a tea last night.

Next, I boil a tea kettle of water. The jade packet hints and winks, "Boating down the Li River at dawn among ancient rock formations, many souls have contemplated their place in the universe with a cup of China Green Tips."

A feather alights in consciousness after a few sips, and it's at this point that I interrupt the ceremony at present, hopping off the stool to get my copy of The Book of Tea (the entire text is available here) to share this story with everyone:

"Have you heard the Taoist tale of "The Taming of the Harp?"

Once in the hoary ages in the Ravine of Lung Men stood a kiri tree, a veritable king of the forest. It reared its head to talk to the stars; its roots struck deep into the earth, mingling their bronzed coils with those of the silver dragon that slept underneath. And it came to pass that a mighty wizard made of this tree a wondrous harp, whose stubborn spirit should be tamed but by the greatest of musicians. For long the instrument was treasured by the Emperor of China, but all in vain were the efforts of those who in turn tried to draw melody from its strings. In response to their utmost strivings there came from the harp but harsh notes of disdain, ill-according with the songs they fain would sing. The harp refused to recognize a master.

At last came Pai Ya, the prince of harpists. With tender hand he caressed the harp as one might seek to soothe an unruly horse, and softly touched the chords. He sang of nature and the seasons, of high mountains and flowing waters, and all the memories of the tree awoke! Once more the sweet breath of spring played amidst its branches. The young cataracts, as they danced down the ravine, laughed to the budding flowers. Anon were heard the dreamy voices of summer with its myriad insects, the gentle pattering of rain, the wail of the cuckoo. Hark! a tiger roars--the valley answers again. It is autumn; in the desert night, sharp like a sword gleams the moon upon the frosted grass. Now winter reigns, and through the snow-filled air swirl flocks of swans and rattling hailstones beat upon the boughs with fierce delight.

Then Pai Ya changed the key and sang of love. The forest swayed like an ardent swain deep lost in thought. On high, like a haughty maiden, swept a cloud bright and fair; but passing, trailed long shadows on the ground, black like despair. Again the mode was changed; Pai Ya sang of war, of clashing steel and trampling steeds. And in the harp arose the tempest of Lung Men, the dragon rode the lightning, the thundering avalanche crashed through the hills. In ecstasy the Celestial Monarch asked Pai Ya wherein lay the secret of his victory. "Sire," he replied, "others have failed because they sang but of themselves. I left the harp to choose its theme, and knew not truly whether the harp had been Pai Ya or Pai Ya were the harp." - Okakura Kakuzo, The Book of Tea

p.s. I have no idea where Awen's story is going. Which is a tad spooky. And heinously unstructured should you be a literature prof. Hardly proper "writing". Rough draft after next rough draft. Images and fragments unfold mostly during meditations, or when I first wake up. "I left the harp to choose its theme..."

Art a pointer to a friend of a friend, David Titterington's artwork is like the calligraphy of the sun too. First up, Peekabuddha, 3' X 4'; then detail from Death is Absolutely Safe, 4' X 5'; Before the Temple, 45cm x 38cm; Just Look , 4' X 4'. David Titterington's recent work here. David's blog here. ("I just learned that my name means "beloved river crossing."  David Ford.  "Titterington" of course means "laughing town.")

everyone brings something to the table

"2 years later. August 29th, 2007. Hurricane Katrina. Will you simply stop and reflect? Or, start to be a part of the solution? Marinate." - hip-hop artist and podcaster Clarence Dykc sez via twitter

Purposefully decided not to comment on the two-year anniversary of Katrina yesterday, though I read others' blogs. Railing and raging ain't cutting it for me.

Being part of the solution personally would involve rolling into action. Not because I have to do, and not because I should, simply because my heart pulls me.

Creating a triangle of art/live community center of sorts and arts collective in New Orleans that links up creatives there with centers in San Francisco and NYC, and cross-pollinates them all. Speakeasy cafes for salons and shows and supper teas on the ground level...but I digress.

This "solution" became clearer for me only after I stopped and reflected. Contemplated. Then conversed with many, many folks that most often became friends while I was in New Orleans this spring.

It's no secret if you've been reading this blog for a while that I've been thinking more and more about community. The history of social movements. What kind of planet I want to live in. How I create that world.

"We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor." - His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama

I don't need my neighbors to be my very best friends. Yet there is something vaguely troubling that the way neighbors often deal with issues like the disabled car in front of the house, or music and voices in the backyard that obviously bothers them is to call the police rather than simply knock on the front door of the house, and have a short discussion.

I don't need the bank teller to be dearest confidant. Yet, there is something vaguely troubling when they avert your eyes when you're trying to find out about a continual series of fees on your statement hurriedly brushing you off, "You really should call the 800 number. I can't do anything about it." (BTW, reflected far long enough, I am no longer a Wells Fargo customer.)

I wholeheartedly agree with Stowe Boyd's post, "Anne Truitt Zelenka and Steve Rubel on Web Friendship", especially when he writes:

"[T]he new nature of connected friendship is taking on the shape of the Web itself:

1. it is increasingly open (much of our fraternizing is in public),
2. tolerant of diversity (I disagree publicly with my friends, but I accept this as part of friendship, not a blind gang-like sharing of narrow perspectives; and they are from all over, all colors, all shapes and sizes)
3. bottom-up (its not because we work together, or because we are members of some organized group)
4. personal (I don't belong to cliques, but am connected to individuals)
5. flowing (people's relationships are constantly changing, and shifting in complexity).

Many would look at the new state of friendship and suggest that something has been lost when you don't have a small group of friends that all know each other, that invite each other over to bbqs every weekend, and who all attended the same schools, workplaces, and places of worship. But I believe that we are moving away from a narrow, parochial, and inbred sort of friendship." - Stowe Boyd

Yesterday I read a New Orleans' resident Jonathan Bailey's blog post, "7 Lessons Learned 2 Years After Katrina". His lesson number 3 was:

"Disasters Bring People Together, Politicians Drive them Apart: Racial tensions in New Orleans have always been high, but immediately following the storm, an atmosphere of cooperation filled the city. That is, until our mayor gave his famous “Chocolate City” speech. Then everything changed for the worse."

Divide, and conquer. A very, very ancient tactic to breed war and conflict - and maintain the illusion of control and power over others. So, if we want to reclaim our power, sometimes the simplest of things to do start by meeting me at the table. We'll see where things go from there. Stretch me, why don't you?

I believe that everyone brings something to the table. That we as human beings have more common interests than separate. If only we would sit down together, share some bread and tea, and converse.

"The origin of the word "community" comes from the Latin munus, which means the gift, and cum, which means together, among each other."  - Bernard Lietaer, Beyond Greed & Scarcity

I love writer and yoga instructor Jeff Davis' work and workshops (I speak from personal experience). Just recently I noted he was on the same page as I: "He is converting his farmhouse and barn near Woodstock, NY, into a simple place where active visionaries can gather." In the same article, he wrote:

"We conversed. And to "converse," after all, suggests a "turning with." One turns with the to other. Although conversation likely once referred to a monastic mode of life devoted to conversations with God, out of the monastery our daily conversations can let us hear how "all that is" speaks through strangers and lovers." - Jeff Davis, author of the book, The Journey from the Center to the Page: Yoga Philosophies and Practices as Muse for Authentic Writing, "Talking 'Bout My Transpersonal Generation," Common Ground mag, July 2007

I've always been inspired by the Salon movement, housed in salons (rooms) in French homes fomenting the French revolution and a flowering of the arts and letters, as well being entranced with the way cafe societies threw together writers, politicians, philosopher-thinkers, artists, scholars and general ne'er-do-wells into one pot to stew, and ultimately learn from each other. (I've always been inspired by the Italian Renaissance, too.)

Vicki Robin, co-author of Your Money or Your Life (that was a life-altering book when I read it about eight years ago), also began Conversation Cafes. She shares: "I once asked a Dane how Denmark had resisted the pressures of globalization [i.e. conformity]. He said two words: study circles. Most Danes throughout their adult lives have the habit of conversation about things that matter in small groups.

"Why Conversation Cafés? Because when you put strangers, caffeine and ideas in the same room, brilliant things can happen. For that very reason, the British Parliament banned coffeehouses in the 1700s as hotbeds of sedition. Might we brew up a similar social liveliness now?" - Conversation Cafe website

p.s. More in next post, including how to roll your own Make Tea, Not War Communi-teas in your community. This is just a heads up that I'm hosting a few communi-teas to promote peace: general theme, Greetings and Gleanings. Held in common spaces, community spaces, gardens, parks, backyards, arts collective lofts throughout Bay Area from 9/9 through 9/11. To make it accessible to all walks of life, there is no cost. First one, 9/9 at the community garden on 23rd and Shotwell, San Francisco, 1-3 p.m. Also check twitter.com/panmesa for updates.

Bonus: Whether they walk their talk or not, I know not. But I am digging their self-organizing philosophy: "Forget what you think you know about activism and community service. Forget the Non-Profit Industrial Complex with its centrally controlled organizations. Forget grant applications and fundraising drives, complex tax codes, and government regulations. Forget political correctedness, groupthink, forced neutrality and censorship.

Burners Without Borders (burnerswithoutborders.org), a new movement for social change borne out of the Burning Man Festival, does away with all that bureaucratic detritus. Taking its cue from Doctors Without Borders, Burners Without Borders is led only by an idea: that of a boundless, leaderless movement, based on gifting and community, that seeks no publicity, recognition, money or power. All it seeks to do, like its progenitor, is to build community through addressing social needs, creating art and healing the deep wounds of a disconnected culture in the throes of anomie." - "The Revolution Will Not Be Invoiced," Common Ground mag, August 2007

Art Dining Room Overlooking the Garden, by Pierre Bonnard (" At the insistence of his father, Bonnard studied law, graduating and practising as a barrister briefly. However, he had also attended art classes on the side, and soon decided to become an artist."); Le Moulin de la Galette, by Renoir; Apple Picking, by Camille Pissaro (the women appear to be gleaning) 

the art of living as a living artist

"Then came the first autumn salon and he [Matisse] was asked to exhibit and he sent La Femme au Chapeau and it was hung. It was derided and attacked and it was sold." - Selected Writings of Gertrude Stein (this passage from snippet therein from The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas)

Our culture has a way of worshipping dead artists...while mocking living ones. Matisse was labelled a fauve, a wild beast, initially by his contemporaries.

Matisse smartly quit going to openings after witnessing the stratching and clawing at his La Femme au Chapeau that fall in Paris. He never again set foot at a Salon exhibition again.

He did not quit painting however.

"Totalitarian regimes fear freedom of expression in works of art and attempt to control and censor them because the visions embedded in art have the capacity to transform culture." - Alex Grey, The Mission of Art

There are times I have thought the end is nigh for my blogging. Maybe quit writing altogether except for the Zen direct in-the-moment Twitter.

My laptop keyboard and other sundry parts are on their last legs, for starters, and making it exceedingly difficult to write anything online. At least Twitter works from my mobile phone.

Summer lights and tree whispers beckon even onto tumbling fall.

The old writing has not been feeding my soul. Plus...

The biggest truth to lack of interest in writing: What's the point of writing when I get more and more mocking correspondences from destroyers (to be distinguished from creators - whom are my clanfolk).

"I say to people that I am not writing, but I keep on writing in the diary, subterraneously, secretly, a writing that is not writing, but breathing." - Anais Nin

Well, alas, there is a tale waiting to be told. A myth that traverses the imaginal and physical realms, coalescing hypothetical distinctions between the two. It's waiting for me to rise to materhood. In the end, you don't quite create for yourself, or anyone else. It births of its own, pushing through the womb onto the world.

"We must be the new mythmakers for this age... We are explorers, foraging a new way, so of course we may seem crazy at times, or depressed, much like the shamans of ages past." - Christopher Penczak, Ascension Magick

Art flows through us as a gift. And a gift is to be given. Whether it is received, or not, is not our chief concern; it is given, released, hatched, emerged. The gift has its own momentum, its own movement, its own mobility.

So ultimately I write because as Alex Grey shares in The Mission of Art, "The need for healing actions that foster collective awakening and demonstrate personal responsibility for global conditions has never been greater."

"It was very strange in its colour and in its anatomy...The Cezanne portrait had not seemed natural, it had taken her some time to feel that it was natural but this picture by Matisse seemed perfectedly natural and she could not understand why it infuriated everybody... She then went back to look at it and it upset her to see them all mocking it. It bothered and angered her because she did not understand why because to her it was so alright, just as later she did not understand why since the writing was all so clear and natural they mocked at and were enraged by her work.

And so this was the story of the buying of La Femme au Chapeau by the buyers..." - Selected Writings of Gertrude Stein, edited by Carl Van Vechten

p.s. Gertrude Stein and her brother thus bought the publicly derided Matisse portrait. And the rest is history.

p.p.s. I'd love to write more here about the art of living as a living artist, of which only a teeny fraction of living art concerns how do we pay for the roof over our heads, our meals, our toilet paper. But oui, that too.

Art John Picacio's cover art for Lou Anders' FAST FORWARD 1: FUTURE FICTION FROM THE CUTTING EDGE; Alex Fleisig's rendition of Harry Potter over at Drawer Geeks. 

you are not a troubled guest on this earth...you were invited from another and greater night

"Hafiz stands
At a juncture in this poem.
There are a thousand new wheels I could craft
On a wagon
And place you in -
Lead you to a glimpse of the culture
And seasons in another dimension." - "Wise Men Keep Talking About", Hafiz

"To be human
is to become visible
while carrying
what is hidden
as a gift to others.

To remember
the other world
in this world
is to live in your
true inheritance.

You are not
a troubled guest
on this earth,
you are not
an accident
amidst other accidents
you were invited
from another and greater
night
than the one
from which
you have just emerged." - "What to Remember When Waking", David Whyte

Bonus: More inspiring poems at Panhala.net.

p.s. Back from my mission in The Mission district of San Francisco.

And from my Twitter stream: "Why I'm Blogging Less: 3. Harder to articulate, blogging not stratching the creative itch. Fantasy graphic novel may be in the cards."

Can you say mythopoesis?

All pictorial art is the transformation
of dead material into something spiritual. -Anonymous

Same goes for writing.

Art Charles Vess illustration from Neil Gaiman's Stardust graphic novel.

follow your bliss...happy Independence day

"[I]f you do follow your bliss you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in your field of bliss, and they open doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be." - Joseph Campbell, interview with Bill Moyer (via Nick Smith's Life 2.0 blog)

Was experiencing a not so stellar day. Have you ever felt like you are  plopped smack into the middle of some mysterious plotline, albeit cliffhanging as it is you're not so sure you want to turn the pages just yet, or ever again. Not another dragon slaying day, pleez. Because you're It, you're the hero/heroine of your story, and the heroine doesn't quite like the world she's thrown into, or the sentences and the punctuation and the incessant advancement of the drama. You'd rather crawl back into bed, thank you. Or howl about the inanity of the storyline and what the other characters are doing. Especially knowing this is the kind of advice Storyteller, aka your Soul, works with:

6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them - in order that the reader may see what they are made of. - Kurt Vonnegut, Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction

A friend offered to send me an energy packet remotely tonight (hmmm, whatever that is; he's the intuitive energy worker.)

Thx in meantime eatin strawberries chocolate tea now

These u live on?

Why not? My two great joys in life are chocolate and young men, said potter artist Beatrice Wood...she lived to 105...following my bliss

I should qualify and mention that that's deep dark chocolate and moonlight white tea.

Ah, I feel better already.

The chocolate and strawberries helped - alas no young men handily around -  because stopped for a second being ensnared by the storyworld and its masquerades, and where the other characters' dramas are spinning, and came back to me and my own soul compass (Joy).

"Now, I came to this idea of bliss because in Sanskrit, which is the great spiritual language of the world, there are three terms that represent the brink, the jumping-off place to the ocean of transcendence: sat-chit-ananda. The word "Chit" means consciousness. "Ananda" means bliss or rapture. I thought, "I don't know whether my consciousness is proper consciousness or not; I don't know whether what I know of my being is my proper being or not; but I do know where my rapture is. So let me hang on to rapture, and that will bring me both my consciousness and my being." I think it worked." - Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth

Update: Sharing this epiphany with friend above.[He generously talked me through my venting this a.m.] sorry keep get ensnare by world drama, okay when focus myself follow my own thread o inspiration even if silly 2 everyone else

He: Thts all u gota do.
Me: 2 simple. guess can't believe so simple

Yes, it's too good to be true. Yes, it's that simple.

p.s. Independence Street, Desire Street and Piety Street are all a couple blocks from each other in New Orleans. What co-incidence! I view following your rapture, or bliss, or as I sometimes like to say follow my sassiness - as being the exact thing as following your desire and Will - which ultimately is the crux of the law of attraction. And that following is like following an electric current, or a magnetic force, a movement pulsing and flowing within the heart of your being that keeps right on waltzing and overflowing out in gushes of fountains and expresses as flinging rose petals and fecund blessings galore in a myriad of profuse ways. (Take a peek at the 3 Cups, or Abundance card, in Tarot; imagine the cups are eternally replenished with immortal waters of life everlasting.)    

Art: The Roses of Heliogabalus, by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema

speak to my soul

Today, I walked a fair distance  to go to the cafe that speaks to my soul.

There's another quite functional cafe around the corner from me. Were I  wanting coffee, it'd do.

"We're spiritually starved in America and not underfed, but undernourished." - Carol Hornig

At this cafe poetry flows. The main elements: warm blond woods everywhere, hardwood floors, sunlight streaming through glass, no wifi, owners that know your name. Fired play and rainbowed glass art. Wall of teapots: flowered teapots, porcelain teapots, shiny silver teapots, glazed teapots. Cerulean blue plates, giraffe bookmarks, sleek Italian almond hazelnut ginger lemon syrups, intricate little jewel boxes fluttering memories of Murano colors and Venetian sunglasses, undulating anemone ashtrays. Enormous pottery redolent of a woman with an alabaster jar, or maybe something you'd heave to the well for your daily quench. One jar like colossal conch shell, another jar amazonian emerald endive leaves, another striped watermelon ribbons of clay wending vine-like toward the minaret neck.

"It's meant to evoke the way an artist would live." - Ian Schrager, hmmm, does art speak to soul more than design?..."Rather than just slapping art up on the walls of the [Gramercy Park] lobby and guest rooms (although they'll do that too), its spirit will permeate the place."

From this cafe I twitter: "I imagine schools where weaving daydreams & sculpting magicscapes *IS* paying attention". In my journal, I twizzle with twitter poetry reserved for the walk home: "in my cosmic clan, we thrive on iridescent icosahedron not iPhones, fey not Facebook, music not Myspace (twitter is an exception ;-)"

I comprise storylines for performance art, plays, playgrounds. I ought to be able to write anywhere, be anywhere, thrive equally anywhere. The reality is some places sing and speak to my soul, while others are muted, holding back their song.

"If we are sensitive, we can feel when environments are awakened. Human beings can be more or less awakened. So can trees or a mountain, canyon, hilltop, or a particular street corner in our neighborhood. When we are sensitive, we can feel these things. When we expose ourselves to that awakeness, to that environment where spirit and matter are harmonized, it helps us awaken. Ultimately, that's what satsang is. That's also what meditation really is." - Adyashanti, Emptiness Dancing (practically have this Harmonization chapter memorized)

It's so simple really I'm confounded why I ever second-guess my heart and gut: that cafe feels warm, feels good to me. Simple.

p.s. A walk on a gorgeous day is better than icing on the cake. Twittered these via text messaging enroute: round table convenes outside.princely jasmine, regal agapanthus, sheathed magnolia knights in armor share tree w/ grail cups of perfumed bliss and: Summer of love: walkin 2 café where every1 knows yr name & spot bold california poppy orange 72 Volkswagon bus 4 sale.tempted

learning edge, or you can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf

"A university can provide you with a library, but what makes the book you are not looking for fall off the shelf into your hands to give you the material you need is not understood by any university." - William Irwin Thompson, Darkness and Scattered Light (kinda like this book jumped off the shelf, kaboom!, at Kaboom book shoppe in New Orleans)

My blogging bud, Colleen at Communicatrix tagged me with the What's Your Learning Edge meme (p.s. she'll be delving into hypnotism): "I invite you to pick something that you’ve always been curious about, and dive into it with all the passion of a two-year-old on a playground." Goodie!

"Feel free to mention any books you’re reading, classes you’re taking, people you’re learning from or collaborating with, etc. Tell us about the gems you’re picking up, the fun you’re having, etc., especially if they’re shifting the way you look at what you do." - Adam Kayce, Monk at Work, "What's Your Learning Edge?" (p.s. he'll be delving into the Law of Attraction)

"To know the pine, go to the pine. To know the bamboo, go to the bamboo," scribed the wandering hermit haiku poet Basho eons ago. (BTW, all who wander are not lost.)

I'd like to edge myself to draw forth my own innate sage and abide by that sage especially when it veers from convention. To swing when and where my hip feels the beat especially when I'm not on a dance floor. To rekindle the communication that transcends language, that expands the soul and speaks fluidly to Yours, especially when my brain clings to encylopedias. And trust the soul knows how to do this in the doing of it.

And when you come to the crossroads
And you're deciding in the dark
You've gotta listen to the whisper of your heart - Trisha Yearwood, Listen to The Whisper in Your Heart

In short, to learn how to commune directly, immediately, with higher self's Will to guide my soul's highest evolution.

1. plumb my own innate wisdom

So no searching out books, classes, workshops, websites, experts, etc. on how to be a soul pilgrim, and confirm that I'm on the right track. (If I'm supposed to be exposed to an outer teaching, it'll effortlessly drop in my lap.)

I'll be going to straight to the pine, touching the bark, smelling the needles, hearing the roots heave sighs, seeping pine bark tea with the spring water from the Well, for myself. Then sipping this tea with wise children and mischievious merlins for companions. I shall leave the comprehensive, illustrated field guide to North American pines at the library.

"When the living descendant of the lineage of Rumi - his name was Jelaluddin Chelabi - visited Atlanta, he sat me down and said "What religion are you?" I just threw up my hands. He says, "Good. Love is the religion, and the universe is the book."" - Coleman Barks, "Fall in Love the Rumi Way", Beliefnet.com

When I am a stranger in a strange land, without any maps, I want to be able to call spontaneously on higher guidance, be aligned with true north, follow the signs strewn through the universe, and sense my own way Home.

Ian Schrager, born in the Bronx and raised in Brooklyn, has always run his business – by instinct ["not market research or logistics"]. “I always work viscerally. I throw myself into new projects like a man who’s besotted with a woman. It’s completely emotional. When I want something, it’s a gut-reaction…” - "But Who Is Ian Schrager?" French Vogue

2. sway from the hip

"If someone has a reputation for "telling it like it is," he is often said to shoot "from the hip." For a cowboy, such an action would indicate impulsiveness, and perhaps a lack of self-control. For a martial artist, it could indicate total readiness at all times, acting instinctively without need for aim or preparation.

For a Star Child who is totally connected and operational, being "hip" is about living within a kind of FLOW. It is an alignment that happens between nature, circumstance, and one's deep inner self. When we live "from the hip," we are functioning at all times from this balance of spontaneity and Oneness with All That Is." - Daniel Jacobs, "The Star Children"

3. speak in the tongue of the soul

I twittered today, "i imagine schools where the tongues of color sound light geometry glyph & symbol are teacher, deepening conversation w/ sphinxes, scarab, ravens, river Niles, trees, trolls &"

"Little by little, the planet is developing a UNIVERSAL TONAL VOCABULARY -- consisting of physical symbols, sounds, colors, words, and phrases that immediately invoke virtually the same inner experiences, wherever they appear." - Daniel Jacobs, "The Living Language of Light"

4. just do it even if it's never been done before, learn by doing, the total immersion approach

"The residents of the Haight [pre-1967], remembers Richards, were mostly students and artists, drop-outs from various political movements. "San Francisco was a magnet for those kind of people," says Richards. "It attracted people who had been involved in social protests and were tired of preaching about it." They came to San Francisco, he said, "to be what they were talking about." - Dave Richards, Janis Joplin roadie and her Porsche artist

I'd love to tag Nick Smith, Siona van Dijk, Marilyn, Leah, and Eve to join What's Your Learning Edge? foray. No child needs an invite to explore and expand. It's an open call, eternally calling in sweet song.

p.s. The quote in the headline is from Jon Kabat-Zinn. Imagine I shall be practicing my fluency of the soul language of light, color, glyph, and myth more here.  Perhaps a wee less D.J. remixing, and more of my own original live music? Yearning for immersive sensory multidimensional experience that's only possible in the world of matter, beyond bits and bytes.  Love to collaborate with a few magical kids in San Francisco to weave together something hands-on in July if you're in the neighborhood (I'll be in the Mission, near 24th and Folsom).

p.p.s. Heeding the truth of my own soul guiding itSelf towards its highest evolution automatically is congruent with the law of One, law of love, law of creating (a.k.a. law of attraction), and glides one to fulfillment, grace, ease, love and abundance.

Art: Children painting mural photo via Rochester Art Center's "art in the classroom" program site; a Lineage II game character, a hip and ready elven; unknown painting of a bard via Druidry Information Pack, by David Smith.
 

lighting up through living gaia & twitter poetry

Groggy. I feel haunted by story of Jonah. Reluctant prophet. Me, reluctant scribe 4 the stars...caring what ppl think bout me...stupid fear - first text this a.m.

Haha just play...lite up. - friend's text message reply

Star star teach me how to shine shine
Teach me so I know what's going on in your mind
'Cause I don't understand these people
Who say the hill's too steep
Well they talk and talk forever
But they just never climb - The Frames' "Star Star"

"Lite up", my friend's words echo. I thrived last summer on organic farmer's markets: heirloom tomatoes, juicy white peaches, potted basil, oranges, chocolate, almonds, fresh buffalo mozzarella, and earl grey with bergamot.

One day I simply found myself answering "no thanks" when my housemate offered me a spinach omelette. Eggs didn't call me any longer. Strawberries, blueberries and yogurt did. Rosemary garlic toast with moonlight spice white tea on other mornings.

One day my friend Ruby handed me some tomatoes and zucchinis from her backyard. One day they spoke to me, and their edible love brought tears to my ears.

I once watched the animating force drain away from a live squid taken from a fisherman's cage in that otherworldly azure bay spread before Phi Phi Don and Koh Jum islands, and watched that squid die before my feet while the motorboat zoomed that Christmas Day 2004 (day before the fateful tsunami). Within weeks, I was eating my favorite Thai basil with squid dish again. One day last summer, I simply stopped eating meat.

One day the world lightened up, and I with it.

"I don't think being tight and strict is healthy, in general," he says, adding that if you are going to eat a Big Mac, at least be conscious and enjoy yourself while you are doing it.

"As you transition from cooked to raw food, you'll be drawn to more and more living foods. You'll eat that way because you want to, not because you think you want to. The change will just happen. You don't have to try because it's not about willpower." - Rod Rotondi, owner of LA's Leaf Cuisine, "We Like It Raw", May 2007, Common Ground Magazine

I stopped being an environmental activist sometime in 2001. My last convert was my sister. Partly exhausted. But so too, somewhere my yearning to commune with people from all walks of life won out over persuading people what they ought to be and ought to do. I simply wanted to understand them as they were.

I'm a guilt-free green; an eco-epicurean. I bite my tongue and try not say too much about activism. Especially any activism against activists ;-)

I figure my example speaks loud and clear enough for itself. Other friends chided, "Why don't you get your car fixed?" (This was back when I did have the money to repair it.) "Wouldn't that make your life more convenient?"

I don't understand convenient. I do understand how my life has blossomed without a car.

I notice that the Live Earth concert's promotion is going gangbusters. I receive the Live Earth Twitter messages; pithy tips like:  Ironing clothes. Nearly 12 million pounds of hazardous solvents are released into the air yearly by our dry cleaners. Liveearth.org. 10:19 AM June 11, 2007

There's an organic drycleaners at the stripmall closest to my house. I have to pass by the sacred grove of sequoias, the flock of ebony ravens, and countless other beings on my way there. What on earth would I need drycleaned though? And I couldn't find my iron if my life depended on it. I'm not sure I own one, anymore. No one convinced me. No one could have convinced me. Ironing just dropped away from my life like an old worn shoe.

Star star teach me how to shine shine
Teach me so I know what's going on in your mind
'Cause I don't understand these people
Who say the hill's too steep
Well they talk and talk forever
But they just never climb - The Frames' "Star Star"

If you've ever had a real heart-to-heart conversation with Gaia, you'll see she is precisely attuned on her evolutionary spiral journey. She's on track with her destiny. (She'll nudge you towards a remembrance that the word, destiny, is a code, a secret handshake between old friends. A trigger bringing back our attention to the Deity ESTablished IN You.) Then she challenges: Are you living your destiny, your Highest Self?

Summer, for me, is a time of live meals. Of lightness. I think that's why I'm smitten with Twitter. Simple. Spontaneous. Flirtatious. No craft, no technique, no scripting, no editing, no hemming and hawing, no trying to achieve the perfect post. Now, and now, before you blink - just blurt your heart out.

"Twitter: All the addiction of blogging, with 10% of the effort." - Hugh MacLeod (Hugh's twitter)

I'll certainly be blogging and twittering this Summer of Love 2007. Plus stuff of a more ephemeral artful nature is afoot at my Summer of Love pad in S.F. (Please swing by when I move in end of month.) Though the stockier stew of word-drenched essays may take a backseat for a while as I whip up frequent quirkier morsels of ambrosia.

p.s. Here's what my recent Twitter trail of word crumbs looks like (reverse chronological). I took the liberty of adding a few hyperlinks not in original for additional context. You can partake and subscribe calorie-free to my Twitter messages here.

eve11 attach picture? naked princess hold sceptre of solar cross, in other hand, tiger by tail, a pyre burns, she leaps into volcano of her dreams half a minute ago from web

eve11 day tarot Princess Wands:She tames the beast of fear.She is complete self-expression, in total disregard of all that is socially acceptable. 11 minutes ago from web

eve11   6/19/67 in history: Paul McCartney admits on TV that he took LSD ! http://tinyurl.com/2ywgg7 about 11 hours ago from web

eve11 sol: grab blankie, sleep outside, let shooting stars zip through velvet soul (xtra cred: squat nice rooftop, bonus if view of bay bridge) about 11 hours ago from web

eve11 sol: go2 dollar store, snag smiley face stickers (2nd best: rainbows, or rainbow hearts & stars), l8r traipse through fancy mall, & spread! about 15 hours ago from web

eve11 conjuring an orange grove spring to draw fresh water for my tea, well, that's what the moonlight spice white tea package nudges about 15 hours ago from web

eve11 Once" remind me of a momentary shooting star in the guise of busker that captured my heart, but so many genius artists do that, don't they? about 15 hours ago from web

eve11   went to dollar store to buy smiley stickers for (shhhh) submervise mission at Santana Row, and then went to see film "Once" about 15 hours ago from web

eve11 friend texts to ask if they called me E.V. pronounce eee-vee when I was little. no, my sisters called me (and stil do) eh-veh, breezy soft e about 15 hours ago from web

eve11   walkin to non-starbucks to hang out, good place to plot world overthrow by daisies and dryads and dolphins about 23 hours ago from web

eve11 sol: get out of vw bus & walk more, strum toes w/ the pulse of Mother Earth whether be muddy rain, tickling grass (uh, as in park greens) about 23 hours ago from web

eve11   @MarilynM: "enjoys work less than me", try moi! Abolish work, play: manifesto at http://tinyurl.com/ltu7 about 23 hours ago from web in reply to MarilynM

eve11   @evem: o that's glorious, twin! let the sunshine in! check out http://tinyurl.com/2aughv about 23 hours ago from web in reply to evem

eve11 sol:while hypnotize by lava lamp, wrap psy head round: yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skilfully curled) all worlds -ee cummings  about 23 hours ago from web

eve11 ala liveearth070707 twitters,gonna preface little ditties, little spontaneous Summer of Love tips with "sol", turn on,tune in, drop out 4 mo about 23 hours ago from web

eve11 off to sleep at godly hour of crack of dawn, i knew it was late when East Coast friends start textin (up Net surfing, read Ascension Magick) about 24 hours ago from web

eve11 phone line (+dsl) went kaput friday, took as omen to chill, be hermit for the weekend (silly friends say something about mercury retrograde)  03:38 AM June 18, 2007 from web

eve11   enough waking dreams, horizontal dreams await 09:51 PM June 14, 2007 from web

eve11 whew hot! end up chatting re knights in shining armor & prince charmings with housemate instead o spark fire in the park, tho cooler, go now 05:58 PM June 14, 2007 from web

eve11   heading out to rainbow park with journal and markers to plot the massive top secret anarchist World Tickling 04:37 PM June 14, 2007 from web

eve11 juneteenth vertigo thinking about all about to blossom this summer of love...expect artful shenanigans at my new pad near 24th&Folsom, SF 02:51 PM June 14, 2007 from web

eve11   sipping heated dewdrops w earl grey with bergamot & thinking of you 02:37 PM June 14, 2007 from web

Art: Misty River, by John Dolphin from Terrable Terragens (stunning photography of Terra Nova, the New Earth); Mandelbrot Galaxy by Vicky Brago-Mitchell (fractal art); Unveiling the Sorceress, by Timothy Lantz (fantasy art); Star Star, song by The Frames