Monday, December 25, 2017

Apartment C

Throw me in the shadows of your love

where I can barely breathe

let it in and

cease to become reassuring


there is something else I could not forget

not death

running and screaming

won't you just see me

through all this nonsense?


This has happened before

like the nausea of an incomplete sentence

I want life to make itself

scarce

focus on it

and you will find out how it ends


Who gave you this gift?

beyond the brain blood flow

a sip of nectar

the fasting daydream from life itself

i want the

positive pieces forward

throw the toys out

and cry about it



Joining the ritual

stimulate the beaten path

a rigid librarian

and eccentric  poet

master the disappointment

from a creativity standpoint

I can wear a different outfit if you want

its the playful thing to do


Isn't that the question

does it happen?

Or do you get to finish the sentence

running on and on and on

until the little god looks your way

and freaks you out.

Thursday, December 7, 2017

Headstands and Plant Medicine: The Ozark dance

 My experience with plant medicine in Costa Rica was essentially a passive engagement with the medicine.  We were lying down on mats, letting the medicine flow through us.  It was a practice of submission.   And I remember that when Michael DiMarco told me he was controlling his experience with the medicine, I could not comprehend how he was accomplishing that feat.  Now, thanks to shaman Alphani Ryzon at the New Haven Church, I have some inkling of a more active engagement with the medicine.

The ceremony at New Haven began the same as in Costa Rica.  It was almost the same or similar Sante Daime medicine.  Indeed, it had almost the same taste as in Costa Rica.  But from there, the experience was markedly different.  Almost immediately after drinking, Alphani, lead the group in a fairly active yoga practice.  Yoga was followed by breath-work, followed by chanting, followed by a sound bath.  All of these practices seemed to encourage the movement of the energy growing within me.  It was not a passive experience.  Indeed, when I began to feel nauseous MeTa (who was assisting Alphani) told me the sensation of nausea was energy pooling in the solar plexus chakra and she took active steps (rapid breathing) to encourage the flow of energy in her body.  Finally, we all participated in a  free-flowing dance which marked the transition between drinking the first cup of Sante Daime medicine and drinking the second cup of a foul tasting medicine from Peru.  All of these energy practices opened the door to the growing sensation that I was acting as a channel for the energy of the plant medicine.

After the second cup of the Peruvian brew was consumed, the rubber really hit the road.  Alphani  encouraged everyone to meditate sitting still for 30 minutes.  This was nothing new.  In a zen sesshin, we also sit immobile in 30 minute blocks experiencing reality.   I was determined not to move and to experience the medicine though my meditation practice.  However, the energy of plant medicine makes the meditation experience much more fluid.  The challenge was to remain somewhat aware of my surroundings, following the breath when the mind was moving in an out of states of awareness and hypnagogic dream-like states.

After the 30 minutes passed Alphani gave what was tantamount to a sermon suggesting that the sacrament of plant medicine allowed us to create a space within ourselves such that the egoic "story" of reality that we have created for ourselves becomes porous and the universal divine love is allowed to enter us.   I'm paraphrasing here, but Alphani described creating a space within us to experience the universe.

Shortly thereafter, I saw evidence of this love in action.  When one of the participants was having difficulty (and for once it wasn't me...lol), I witnessed Alphani embrace the man and engage in in a very caring conversation.  I knew he would be ok.  Indeed, I knew I would be ok.  Should the medicine cause me to be disassociated with my consciousness, I knew Alphani (and MeTa) for that matter would take care of me.   Unlike my experience in Costa Rica, no one here would put me in a headlock, and I knew I would not have to go running though the Ozark forest to escape from anyone. 

Much later when we were gathered around the bonfire outside I witnessed an even more active engagement with the medicine: Alphani was practicing extended headstand and plow poses.  But by then all was good.  I saw the trees around me dancing and waving to me to join them.  And the full moon shown through the clouds like a portal to another dimension.

I sense there will be more to the story.  When I was driving to this Church near Ava, Missouri, I had the same sensation of the confusion and fear I experienced in Costa Rica.  The overwhelming sense that if I go through with this nothing will be the same afterward.  But Mother Aya was gentle with me this time and did not give me more than I could handle.  And maybe nothing will be the same, albeit in small increments.  Maybe a bit more of the universe is coming in despite how steadfastly I hold onto the story that I am separate from the rest of creation.





Monday, November 20, 2017

I Got This

I got this.

Not those German .88s

But that howitzer over there

I'm your Johnnie on the spot with the can do attitude

So when you weren't looking

I pulled the string

Flipped the switch

and tweaked the knob

and off they went

all those shells down the bay

blowing up everything

all those boats

not sure if they were ours or theirs

but that aircraft carrier had to go

it was too big to not fail
I've got your warrior spirit

and when I went down to take a look

all those tanker trucks of jet fuel leaking

I had to throw the match

strike the lighter

rub the sticks

the puddles were everywhere

my feet and shoes were soaked

chocking fumes

I knew I should get away

so I walked

then I ran

then I wondered if the match lit

I thought about turning around and making sure the job was finished

but before I did

I felt myself being lifted up to the sky

gently

the warmest embrace I ever felt
(From the November 2017 Sesshin  Champaign Illinois)

Sunday, November 5, 2017

The Ebb and the The Flow, But Mostly the Ebb

The ebb and the flow, but mostly the ebb
I was upstairs in a house I had forgotten long ago
with a woman
who I learned was my sister
doing what was in retrospect unthinkable
but it was intended to bring her peace
see I am like that, even in dreams
a real man of the cloth
never losing my manners

Then I was drinking coffee
in a strange place
with a flippant woman with a small crevice
between her teeth
who smiled the snarl of disdain
"you are out of control,"
she said smirking
like she knew I would resist
"when is the last time you really took care of yourself"
like a I really had a choice
then she ignored me

So to prove a point
I stepped out of the apartment building
that I had never been in
And there was a woman, or was it a man approaching me
nebulously friendly and threatening
she/he was carrying a bottle
she/he was overly animated
she/he just didn't fit into the picture

And then the action sped up
and this is the scary part
Not sure what she/he did
but I was back in the apartment building
I had unlocked the door
not a good move
then I opened the door
and even worse move

and she/he followed me in
there was nothing I could do about it
And then she/he was grabbing me in the midsection
and I knew I was in trouble
or was I
I still don't remember what happened
I must have survived
don't you think?









Friday, October 20, 2017

'Escargot" -- For Open Mic 10/20/2017 (Wm. Van's and Black Sheep)

The mind is a terrible thing to waste.

So we must preserve it.  

Every last drop.  And our cerebral spinal fluid holds it all in, like a stasis field.  Until we crack.

Case in point:  My friend David K.  

He thought he would drop in on me, unexpectedly.  Spoil the little trance I had going on.  But for some reason his chute didn't open.  

There he was, dead, sprawled out on the pavement.   Parachute still strapped on his back, unopened.  His body twisted in all sorts of contortions.  

Cerebral spinal fluid leaking everywhere.

What a waste.

Not something I want to see.

See, I'd rather not see too much.

So I went back to my little trance, my little ritual.  

The whole cell phone thing.

See I don't own a TV.

And I don't drink alcohol anymore

not since mother aya

But that doesn't mean I ain't numb.

You probably got something too?.

Some little ritual you do when things get hot.

Some little dance you do.

and I'm not calling you autistic

But we are all on our own little spectrum.

For who really wants to see what's life's about.

that silence

So before you go back to your little ritual and I go back to mine

Let me share a secret with you

the whole eparter le bourgeois

And it is this:  snails operate on gamma brain waves

There are already there.

The highest state of consciousness

and unless we are a Buddhist monk, or having some near death experience, or being born, or taking DMT we ain't going to come close with our slow little alpha and beta brain waves to seeing what those goddamn snails are experiencing 24-7.

think about it.  

We run around doing all manner of crazy 

but everything we do ain't going to amount to a hill of beans in the long term

 right Ozymandias?

and they, those crazy little gastropod molluscs are just chugging away at 40 Hertz all blissed out and not giving one rats ass at what all the frenzied hominoids are doing around them.  

or do they care?

maybe that little slime trail they leave everywhere is their way of sharing cerebral spinal fluid with us, and all creation.

For they cracked a long time ago, and have plenty to give.









Tuesday, October 17, 2017

The Third Book of the Harvest, "The Ascension"

And it came to be on the third day the scattered pieces

spread out on the land like so many seeds

and Emo saw that this was good and formed an assembly proclaiming:

"may his seed bring forth upon this Earth all manner of grasses and fruit in abundance."

And thus it was so.

And then she gathered me in again and when I could see, touch, taste, and hear she soothed me with comforting words:

"Do not be afraid little one, you have been through this before, countless times over the eons.  It is too much for you to remember, but know this is your lot. Your life is nothing more than this.

You will sink back into yourself and forget this until we meet again.

But remember, dear one, that all is vanity

Though you will toil under the sun, there will be no gain

A generation goes, and a generation comes

but the Earth remains forever

What has been is what will be

And what has been done is what will be done

And there is nothing new under the sun

Do not be afraid little one, relax into your life

until we meet again.






(sleeping well in my new spiritual retreat, surprisingly adapting to life's "change" up :-))

Saturday, October 7, 2017

"Batdorf and Rodney", Poetry Fight Club, 20 minute Project October 6,2017

The Prompt:  Go into Dumb records, pick out an album, write a poem in twenty minutes.

This is what followed.  Of course, this is not a poem.  I suppose there still is a point in having directions even if you are not going to follow them.

The album I selected was Batdorf and Rodney's album titled "Life is You."

"Life is You"?, Really Batdorf and Rodney?  Whose idea was that?  How would you know?

So I look for clues.  I carefully examine the album cover and discover on close inspection my first clue:  a phone number, 443-8486.


So I call the number.  No answer.  But an answering machine:

"Hi you have reached the number of Corey Witt of the News Gazette, I'm not here right now, please leave a message after the tone."

I leave no message.  But this must be another clue.  I look around Dumb records.  Ok, who do I know around here that knows more about media than anyone else in Central Illinois?

Bingo:  Rachel Otwell.  The source for all things news.

My investigation reaches a new level.

I interview Rachel and learn the following:

1.  There is a newspaper in Champaign, Illinois called the News Gazette
2.  This album likely came from the old "Error" records in Champaign which closed.  Rachel confirmed that Dumb records acquired many LP's from this former business during its inception.

The plot thickens.

So I dust for fingerprints.

And do a DNA test

And I can now conclusively tell you that the DNA test proves within an acceptable margin of error

that life is indeed you.

You were right all along Batdorf and Rodney.

I close my case.

Friday, October 6, 2017

The Second Book of Harvest: "The Summoning" (Black Sheep OpenMic.October 6, 2017)

What we experience now is not what we are

deep inside us is the facility to recall everything

like wayward children

wandering aimlessly through the woods

we can't always lay hands on them

but they are there

water flowing through the sluice

"Speak!", Emo yelled, yanking me along

"Before we were many pieces," I stammered

(an age old stuttering problem)

"there was one  
straining up to the light 
leaves unfurled
all paths lead to one
casting no shadow
the gateless gate"

"Faster, harder," she yelled 

I can see the light now
through the canal 
life into death
death into life
Enkidu into Shamhat
Shamhat into Enkidu

Emo then handed me the passion fruit (footnote which was infused with Banisteriopsis Caapi)
and said:

"Take this fruit, this is of my body, which you may eat from.  Do this in remembrance of me."

I ate the fruit greedily.

And I was back at Sabin Elementary School

Bear Valley Colorado

Kindergarten class

It was a film after nap time

Adam and Eve

But not the way it really happened

I should know

And a plaster skull on the table

We were forbidden to touch the skull

Emo touched my shoulder.   You can do this, you have already done this.  A thousand times.  I am there for you when you need me.

The plaster skull broke into a thousand pieces.














Sunday, October 1, 2017

Life is But a Dream

Sometimes I feel like I am going to wake up or have an experience that I am back on the mat at Rhythmia in Costa Rica, still in the throes of plant medicine and this last month or so has all been a dream.  Merrily merrily merrily merrily life is but a dream.

And this realization scared me.   Like I am losing my mind.  Like this is another psychotic break.  And I suppose I could look at it that way.   Or I could look upon this as an invitation to something else.  As if I really have a choice.

I don't really remember what the red pill and the blue pill meant in the Matrix, which also had something to do with dreams and reality,  but I do remember the alleged first level of the plant medicine experience.  It simply shows you what your life is.  This is what I asked of it when I started the journey.   I wanted to look into that peripheral vision that is always with me and see what was always making me a little unsettled, a little not at home with what is going on around me. But of course, who am I kidding?  I may have started off with that intention, but as soon as I had even an inkling of what was in my peripheral vision, I avoided it, tensed against it, and ran from it.  Just like I have always done.   No big surprise there.

And to be honest with you, I'm not entirely sure what is in my peripheral vision that I am running from.   Of course, when a lawyer starts a sentence with "to be honest with you," your best course may be to run for the hills because what follows and the truth may be two very separate things.  But all joking aside, let me take a swing at it.   I think what is the biggest confusion I have in my life is how to react to the fear that I will sink into some dark abyss that I will never get out of unless I resist or do something now.  Like I must start swimming now or I will drown.    Like I'm being sucked down into a downward spiral of depression and craziness and fear I can never get out of unless I start thinking positive thoughts now.   That I am about to lose my mind, and I must find somebody anybody to talk to because if I keep listening to myself and my own mind I will go crazy.  This doesn't happen all the time, thank God.  But this is exactly what I was doing during my forth night of plant medicine at Rhythmia:  I was running either from some sort of mind state which I equated as an unending death or a pack of men with dubious intentions if I did not resist.  And its not like these practices of resistance haven't worked to some degree for me over the years in a variety of situations.  For example, the same impetus got me out of my apartment on a Friday night in a strange city when I didn't know anyone.  But I know half the people now in this stinking town and I still am unsettled.  And this feeling seems a different animal that what I have felt before and strikes an entirely different if not discordant chord.   

Over the years the universe has been giving me all sorts of messages probably starting from my early days of zen that struggling against this fear may not be the best therapeutic approach to it.  Now almost almost every book I read and every podcast I listen to has the same message:  Acceptance is the path to liberation.   Ok, I get it.  I mean sure, if there were really jungle tigers running after me, fighting or running from them might be the best option.  But there are no physical tigers here.    And maybe, just maybe, little by little, I am settling into the fear.   Just a bit.   But make no mistake, the training wheels are still very much attached to my bicycle and I'm still afraid of wrecking it.  So when you call up that shrink in Beverly Hills, and ask about me, you know the one, Dr. Everything be alright, instead of asking him how much of your time is left, she might tell you that I have unilaterally decided that I'm not going to let the elevator bring me down, bruce.

But wait, there is more, the after-world.   You can always see the sun, day or night.  And in the after-world,  I have had two people recently tell me that crows are their spirit animals or "familiars."  They are both drummers--go figure.   I'm not sure whether this is a good omen or a bad omen for them.  Maybe I'm getting a crow confused with a raven, which has more nefarious connotations.  In any event,  I think I told them both that I don't have a familiar, but I wanted one. But the more I think about it, I am wrong.  There is a story about me running in the background.  A small little snarly animal perched on my shoulder.  And its not something I necessarily want.   Probably most people have a similar story going on to some degree.  It is the story of what  D.W. Winnicott's called the "false self."  The false self is created when the authentic self of a child goes into hiding for whatever reason during some portion of the child's development.   The false self grows up prematurely and becomes a rigid adaptive self, complying with outer requirements as best it can,  all the while protecting the authentic self from something.   What I'm getting at with this psychobabble is that I feel my gnawing feeling of being disconnected from reality, or lack of grounding in relationships is related to growing tension between my authentic self and this false self.   I have an intuition that my current life is an illusion because in some sense it might be as it is transformed by the false self.   And unlike my friends who have some sort of spirit animal or guardian angel, I feel more and more that I have nothing to fall back on without effort on my part.  That is the unsettling feeling.

They preach this kind of stuff almost every day at Rhythmia.  The whole purpose of plant medicine is for the false inauthentic self to be reunited with authentic self.   And I suppose that's why I want to go back there, to take another run at it.  That's what I do.  I keep trying.  But as trying may be another form of resisting, may I be more nuanced.  May I see what I am doing, and when that uncomfortable feeling occurs again, when that little snarly animal on my shoulder infects me with the venom that I feel I must get rid of, may I remember not to try or resist, but let it run its course.  After all, the venom is not really death, but a more authentic self trying to break though in the only way it can. 

But in the meantime, there are new adventures awaiting me, even though they are not of my choosing.    The winds of fate have blown my ship away from its port that I seem to have gone in an out of for the past seven years.  There is an entire sea open to me now.  There is a reason behind this.  Maybe someday it will all be in more focus.


Thursday, September 28, 2017

The First Book of the Harvest: "The Birth" (Black Sheep Open Mic,October 6, 2017)

In the beginning was the Oid which came before the Void.

Where we could not see touch taste or feel

then everything we came to be

a burned out ember

which long ago drifted from the sun.

I am so not joking.

So Cinderella, whether your prince sends the carriage for you

or you are left doing the dishes

you are destined to waft the cosmic currents

a speck of ash, a seed

landing on that giant marshmallow

waiting to be consumed.

**********************************************

But many years hence, it came to be that on that Giant marshmallow a savior was born  

Her mother was black and immense with peaks, valleys, and alluvial plains:

the transcendental ubiquity.


Her father was a skinny Asian:

the best that machine intelligence could offer.

She had penetrating blue eyes luminous yet indecipherable, like reflections of a looking glass seen in a quiet pond.

They named her Emmanuel Rights Jefferson.

Just like the city of Jefferson, in what used to be the state of Missouri.

Her family called her Emo.

Emo prospered in mind and spirit, but soon discovered she was different from other children.


For she could weave the spell of life:

ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.
ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.
ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.



Monday, September 18, 2017

Viva la Mysterie

I dream a lot these days.  I'm not sure if its the little bit of Caapi, the lack of wine, or just a more focused intention to remember the night-time experience.  Last night,  I was in a town in the mountains.  I was just visiting there.  I traveled up a small hill from main street and there was a large Denun drum there sitting on the top of a hall.  The Denun must have been available for public usage.  But I wasn't there for the drum, at least not initially.  I started to play the drum.  I was looking for something.  And there is was, a monument in the shape of a obelisk.  The obelisk was on a larger hill that was in a direct line from main street to the smaller hill that I was on with the drum.   More remarkable, in the far distance was some sort of castle that was also in a perfect line from main street to the Denun, to the obelisk and to the mountain.

If only life lined up that way.  But it doesn't. Its full of mysteries and incongruousness.

I have a new voice in the distance (I think from Kansas if I remember correctly) providing a new counterpoint to my old ways of thinking.  First, with regard to the whole Rhythmia thing, and the experience of the hell realm of men, the running to find Marina that I described here:

http://sittinginmotion.blogspot.com/2017/09/the-dark-side-of-sun.html

the voice tells me that:

I think we already know what we will find in the abyss. We cling to the familiar and fear that which sets us free.


And of course I know I have been experiencing this confusion for the past year now.  Maybe the last five years.  Clinging, fear, freedom, clinging, fear, freedom, and what to do.  Am I supposed to be the intrepid warrior now and face my fears and set off for this freedom?  But I don't think that is what my counterpoint was telling me.  I already knew what I would find at Rhythmia, even before I went there.  And when I start bitching and moaning about confronting my loneliness and my fear of being alone, my new voice tells me "glibly:"

Perhaps you are having this experience to show you are not alone at all. There is nothing to fear. I do feel in my bones, however, that we are NOT alone, even when others aren't with us. There is an energy that connects us.


And once again, the simple reminder that perhaps I have been trying too hard.  I'm always trying, rarely accepting.  Just accept the mystery, if you can.  Just go back in the porch, next to that little buddha statute there, and listen to the sounds of life around you.  Just be there.  You don't have to know the answers to the questions.  Even this is saying too much, even this is doing something, just experience it silly.  Live the mystery!  It's ok if you don't have the answers.  Maybe the questions will change for you eventually.  Think about your friend Rainer Marie.  And laugh a little.  And manifest some joy.  Come on dreamer, you can do it......lol

“Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. It is possible to live and not know.”  Rilke   

And if there comes a time when you want to dive back into the river again, little dreamer, you might want to consider something like this, or not.....lol
“In the morning [after William S. Burrough’s first traumatic experience on yagé] he attempted to compare notes with Schultes, who by this time in his career had taken yagé on more than twenty occasions. “I never get sick,” Schultes told him. Burroughs mentioned that at one point he felt himself change into a black woman, then a black man, then a man and a woman at the same time, with everything writhing as in a Van Gogh painting. He had achieved pure bisexuality, becoming a man or a woman at will, awash with wild convulsions of lust. “I only get colors, no visions,” Schultes replied.”  — Wade Davis, One River (1996)


Friday, September 15, 2017

Manifesting and Intentions: For William Van's Open Mic 9/15/2017

Overture:  "Ikaro de la Ayahuasca,"  by Don Evangelino Murayay

Intentions

For your own good Frodo, set down the ring and back away.

you don't really want to see

that dark pit that the entire universe falls into

where God is the absence of Hell

on that single point

on that single fulcrum

on that wheel perfectly balanced

and you can't screw it up

until you do

kicking and screaming

over and over

and you missed it Frodo

you turned away when I most needed you

after I left you

over and over

now I am here at the foot of the Big Horns

with my dog in my mothers house

gathering up Indian paintbrush

waiting for return

Manifesting

All of us, I suppose, when we are talking most intimately to someone else are actually addressing the image we believe them to be.

so many kissed frogs

Especially when we are carrying out an internal dialogue

so put a few coins in the tin cup

or take as many as you want

and I will love you for sentimental reasons


Underture "Icaro De Proteccion," Don Diego


Sunday, September 10, 2017

My German Brother

The program at Rhythmia runs in weekly cycles.  New guests arrive on every Saturday or Sunday, to prepare for the plant medicine and other programs that run from Monday to Thursday.  Then the guests depart the following Saturday or Sunday to make way for the new crop of guests.

Because of the hurricane, the participants in my group were delayed in leaving, and unlike most weeks, we had the opportunity to meet some of the guests who would participate in the week long program after our departure.

The new guests were naturally curious and nervous about Rhythmia and what to expect.  However, we were reluctant to share much of our experience with them.  My own reluctance was based on the fact that these new guests would receive the same training that we learned the previous week to prepare for our encounter with plant medicine.  This training was carefully tailored to the experience. Now that my week was coming to an end, I had a sense of how all the training, the breath work, the yoga, the cleansing, the workshops, and the coaching all fit together with the plant medicine.  I did not want to interfere with the process that I could tell had been carefully crafted, and, if you believe Gerry Powell, had been inspired by the plant medicine itself.

On the night before I was to return home from Rhythmia, I woke up from a very vivid dream and quickly realized that would not return to sleep.  I am not sure of the half life of plant medicine, but my dreams were still very much under its sway.  I did not want to bother my roommates so I quickly and quietly moved outside and began to walk.

Rhythmia staffs a reception area 24 hours a day.  I decided to walk there because of the comfortable couches, the soft music, the water dispenser, and the relaxing fountains I knew would be there.  However, when I arrived, the stillness of the late night was interrupted by the nervous conversation of one of the new guests, M from Germany, and the late night receptionist.  The receptionist looked at me when I arrived and his eyes told me he was asking for help with the new guest.  Though the day staff at Rhythmia all speak fluent English, it is possible the receptionist on the "graveyard" shift could not understand the rapid and nervous speech of the new guest.  In any event, one thing that is emphasized at Rhythmia is that you will come to know the guests in your group very well and your empathy will be sky high in the program.  That was certainly my experience, and on that late night I had no hesitation speaking to the troubled guest.

I quickly learned that M from Germany was having difficulty sleeping, that his mind was racing, and he was very nervous about the program he was about to undertake.  I suggested that we go on a walk around the facility.  M agreed and we walked around the outer sidewalk that circles the entire resort.

At the end of the walk, we stopped at the resort pool area.  I felt that what M needed was to have his body and mind relax.  I certainly needed the same relief, so we shared that mutual connection.  But what I was proposing as I laid down on the cement next to the swimming pool was the suggestion to M that he totally surrender to the sensations in his body and to just listen to the noises of the night time insects and birds.  I told him that this skill of surrender may also come in useful to him in his experience with plant medicine.  He complied, and to my surprise, a few minutes later he was breathing deeply and then snoring.

I saw M two more times at Rhythmia before I left and he began his adventure in earnest.   The next morning, I saw him laughing and jumping around as he was instructing one of the women in his group how to ride a bike so that they could go to the beach.   His energy was contagious and they both were laughing.  We joked about the irony of a Canadian having to travel to Costa Rica so that she could be instructed by a German on how to ride a bike.   The world is definitely the smallest of places at Rhythmia.

I also saw M at the Agape videocast.   Once again, he was bounding with excitement as the gospel singers injected him with what he described as "soul" and "hope" about what he was about to experience.  I could see why Gerry included Rev. Michael Bernard Beckwith in his programs.  Indeed, one of the biggest takeaways I had from my experience at Rhythmia was the simple message (and title of Rev. Beckwith's program at Rhythmia ):  "The Answer is You."  No matter how far down you go, how you peel the onion in a million different ways, the answer really is you.  You have the power to manifest your own life not dictated by fear or identification with being a victim of circumstances.   I probably would have scoffed at this message as too overtly evangelical before now, but going through the entire process at Rhythmia I found that this message of supercharged Afro-Buddhism (my words not his) to be intensely inspiring.

I have been curious to hear how the Rhythmia experience went for M.  I feel in some ways that M is like a younger version of myself.  I wish I had experienced Rhythmia when I was M's age.  But in any event, the Rhythmia experience is still impacting me as I assimilate new possibilities into previous beliefs, habits and patterns of life.    I could tell from M's responses that the Rhythmia experience impacted him deeply as it had me, and he kept repeating how much he appreciated my advice on surrendering to the experience and being.  It was a message I'm still very much learning myself.  I'll keep you posted on both of us:-).


Wednesday, September 6, 2017

The Dark Side of the Sun

The Ceremonial Room at Rhythmia:



The Mattress and pillows are for sleeping.  The blankets keep you warm as the windows are open late at night.   The toilet paper is for blowing your nose after the application of Rape (shamanic snuff from jungle tobacco) from the Shaman's pipe which is traditionally used to begin the ceremony.   The Rape grounds you.  I was given a different  and stronger rape on the third night.  The toilet paper can also be used to wipe the tears from your face.  Not show in these photos were the plastic buckets positioned at the foot of the mattresses for purging.  In my experience, I purged during the first and second nights, but not on the third and forth nights.  Noble silence is encouraged during the ceremonies.   I followed noble silence during the third night only.   Because of this, I disturbed the participants laying next to me on the other nights.

Setting intentions with regard to plant medicine was emphasized in preparing for the ceremonies.   I probably did not emphasize enough this aspect of my encounter with plant medicine.   On the third evening, my intention was to heal.  That was my experience on the third night.  On the fourth night, my intention was to see what I needed to see.   I may not use that intention in the future if I continue my exploration of plant medicine.




The above photo shows the outside lip of the ceremonial hall at Rhythmia.   Participants are encouraged to stay within the ceremonial hall during the entire ceremony.   During the forth and final night, I found myself here at approximately 2:00 am.  Perhaps I should restate.  There was no "I" at that time.   The "I" was deconstructed.   In this state I had no recollection of how I arrived there or the process of walking there from my resting mattress.

In any event, at this time, Gerry Powell, the owner of Rhythmia, was seated on the chair.  I started speaking to him.  The words I was using may not have been intelligible to him, but I remember they were more in the nature of directives to me.  I said, perhaps out loud, that "I am not allowed to F__k him" but that he (or perhaps I) may like it.  (He joked the next day with me that he never gets the "pretty" ones. lol).   Similarly, one of the female shamans walked by and I said the same thing, again with the prohibition that I was not supposed to do it.   I had no idea of where I was, who I was, or much of anything other that I was supposed to put together clues to make sense of what was around me.   I was reacting from some deep instinct and everything I saw also had some sort of symbolic value.  For example, the dog walked by, and I took this as a symbol or clue I was supposed to figure out.   I remember not knowing what parents or a sister was, or who they were in my life.  But there was some clue I was supposed to remember.  And some name I was over and over trying to remember.

Eventually, the head shaman came out, and I remember telling him that this was another clue.  He was from Colombia and I was supposed to trust him.  I didn't know anything about him, or that he was a shaman, or that I was in a ceremony.  It was just that naked directive that  "you are from Colombia and I am supposed to trust you."

Then something triggered a vague recollection of my prior life.  And also there was some directive of heaven or a type of transcendence.  I don't remember specifically how the process went, but I had the understanding that my entire life up to that point was somehow false. I remembered various people of my life and my relationships with them, or what I thought were my relationships with them, but nothing was what it seemed.  It was all an illusion.

The revelation that my life was an illusion was a reoccurring theme in my experience with plant medicine.  On the first night, for example, as soon as the medicine began to take effect, I looked up at the shamans and they were transformed into an ancient and alien order that asked me if I really wanted to do this because I had no idea what I was getting myself into.  It showed me a glimpse that what I had expected this experience to be was naive.  This went much deeper and beyond any of my feeble concepts. The ancient alien order was immense and beyond my comprehension.  It was the driving force behind all reality--everything that had happened or would happen.  This glimpse was terrifying.  It was like God showing Job the Leviathan with the admonition that Job should just pray and not try to control or make sense of the immensity of it all which was fundamentally beyond his understanding.

When I told the shaman from Colombia about my experience on the first night, and my experience that the plant medicine was inviting me to a new experience,  he poo pooed this--perhaps trying to comfort me that plan medicine will not fundamentally alter my experience of life.   I am not so sure.  The persistence of my experience of life being an illusion "life is but a dream" points in another direction.

 In any event, when I received this glimpse on the first night, I turned away from it in fear.   I should point out that in the preparatory classes for the plant medicine experience, it was suggested that when we are experiencing plant medicine and if we are presented with a choice, we should consider following the more scary alternative because it may be more fruitful.  On the first night, I forgot this instruction.  On the fourth night, as described, I forgot everything.  Perhaps in the future, I may consider an intention of working with plant medicine asking for the strength to face my fears, as fear was a prominent feature of my experience.

Returning to the fourth night, as I was talking to Gerry and the Shaman outside of the ceremonial hall, I experienced that my prior life of illusion could be replaced by a transcendent life of perfect union.   I had the sense that there was an invitation to participate in this transcendence.  But there also was a sense of confusion and repetitive thoughts at the same time.  I was trying to overcome these to get to the transcendence.  I remember thinking that transcendence was somehow above me and I needed to push through something to get into the sunlight.  I remember the image of a plant pushing through soil to sprout in the sunlight which was in perfect union with the divine.  I remember trying to dance and jump up to break out of the false world that I had been living in.   At this time, I had some recollection of Marina.   As if we could join together, be one, and push into this transcendent domain which would result in the dissolution of myself and everything I had known.  The end to the false reality.  The complete union with God.  It was disconcerting, scary, but at the same time, an exciting promise of a future life of complete fulfillment.

Then the sense of confusion increased.  I remember thinking over and over that I had to remember some clue.  Also, that there was some secret about Marina that I wasn't supposed to tell the people around me.  I had old memories of childhood, old football plays, old childhood friends that were part of the clues I was trying to figure out.  I also had some memory that Marina was from Russia.  I couldn't remember if this was good or bad.  I remember that I wasn't supposed to like Russia, because they were Socialist and I was associated with Capitalism which I thought was good, but it might have been part of the false world and that Socialism represented a more transcendent state.  I also remembered Fatha' Time Jones, and that he was black.  I remember the directive that this was bad and was the "other," but at the same time, I thought that maybe that was again part of the false programming of my past life that must be transcended.

At this time, there were at least four people talking to me, the head shaman, and his two assistants, and Gerry.  I don't remember how long this period lasted, but it must have been some time, because in retrospect I remember that the golf cart pulled up at then Dr. Jeff appeared.  He is the head psychologist at Rhythmia.  In other words, the time elapsed must have been sufficient for them to call him, presumably wake him up, and allow him time to arrive at the ceremony.

Later, I remember looking at the shaman from Colombia, and seeing that his face turned to death.  Also that there were burial grounds all around the compound.  And I became frightened by the death.  There was a directive that these people were death and much worse, that they would trap me into this imperfect world of endless repetition and suffering.  I would be born again, over and over again into a false world and never achieve transcendence.   At some point, this fear must have intensified, because Dr. Jeff and I were wrestling, he had me on the ground in some sort of headlock.  In reality, he is a very large and muscular man, with MMA training.  Later he told me I had a "superhuman" strength to get away from him.

In any event, I was convinced at this time that all of the people gathered around me, the two assistant shamans, the shaman from Colombia, Jerry and Dr. Jeff were all men and that I had to get away from them to be with the women who were still in the main ceremonial room.  At this point, I was back inside the room in this area  (shown below) wrestling with Dr. Jeff:


I became convinced that not only were these men trying to keep me in the realm of endless suffering, but that they were trying to hold me down so that Gerry could f---ck me.  I also had the memory that I had sinned against Marina and that is what caused this hell realm to develop.   Some of the shaman were offering me water and I was convinced that the water was alcohol which was related to the hell realm of endless repetition.  In other words, if I drank alcohol, I would relax into the realm of endless repetition and suffering.  Alcohol was also part of my sinning against Marina.  That and the fact that I had been with someone else that I shouldn't have.   The men around me were also telling me to relax, which I took as a sign that I should not relax, because that was relaxing into death, and I must struggle.   

I remember looking into the next room and seeing the women lining up for what was in retrospect the second drink of plant medicine.   I understood the line to be sperm lining up to impregnate the ova.  I wanted to be that one sperm that made it to obtain life.  But I knew that to achieve that, I must struggle.  By this point not only was Dr. Jeff trying to restrain me, but a number of the other men as well.  I remember yelling out for Marina, telling her that I loved her and that I was sorry and that it would never happen again.  I called out for her to help me.   But at the same time, I knew I should not tell the men something about her because it would betray her and was a secret.  

At some point, after believing that I had to be the sperm that fertilized the ova, I remember thinking that I had to push hard to get out of this hell realm of males.  I imagined myself in a womb trying to force myself out into the realm of light.  I wanted to be born.  I did not want die.  As I struggled against the men, I thought I was pushing out of a birth canal into the light.  I remember grabbing on the pillar in the wall (shown above) so that I could push out into a life with the women, away from the men.

At some point, I became free and walked into the room with the women who were participating in the ceremony.  I remember thinking that my yelling probably scared them.   I learned later that two of the women participating in the ceremony recreated and healed their own previous trauma they had birthing children.  They thanked me--which of course was ironic--as the next day I was understandably embarrassed at how I acted.  

At the other end of the ceremony hall was Sean, my roommate at Rhythmia.   I did not know that at that time, I just knew he was a male to be avoided because he was in league with the other males. Still he seemed less threatening.  The shamans seemed to recognize this, and they encouraged him to follow me outside as I seemed intent on walking out the other end of the hall.  

I don't remember what happened next.  Sean told me that I took off running.   The next thing I remember is that I was at the gate to the Rhythmia compound.  (See photo below).   It is approximately a quarter mile (maybe more) from the ceremony hall.  On the other side of the gate is a road surrounded on all sides by jungle.  I went past the gate.  Eventually Sean and the shamans and Dr. Jeff caught up with me.  I was told there were also security guards there at that time.  I was barefoot at the time and had cuts and scrapes on my feet.  


Outside the gate, Sean was trying to get me to come back.  He gave me a stone that he kept with him that represented his heart chakra.  We then began a lengthy negotiation over whether I should keep the stone.  Sean told me afterward that the negotiation lasted over an hour.  I was concerned that the "heart chakra" would weigh me down like an anchor and keep me with the men.  I also felt that since the heart stone belonged to Sean, he should keep it.  I also was concerned about Sean's health.  I think he started to vomit outside, perhaps from the plant medicine, perhaps from chasing me.  I chastised the other men outside the gate because they were more interested in paying attention to me--rather than Sean--which I interpreted as another sign that they were evil.  Outside the gate, I was still trying to reach Marina, but obviously, it eventually dawned on me that this was not going to happen. 

Eventually, I was led back into the resort and talked to Dr. Jeff in the reception area.  Gerry told me afterward that I had experienced a "psychotic break" which had not happened to him in his many experiences with plant medicine.  As if it was something to be proud of.   And he was jealous.   Not so sure.  It was a gift, to be sure.   The experience revealed my fear and how it shaped my life and made me who and what I am. Though I may have been "reborn"--it was not an affirmation of life but a fear of death that propelled me though the birthing process.  I chose life and fought for life because the alternative was too frightening.   There were countless other times during my four ceremonies that I just wanted to crawl up to the shamans and lay down next to them for comfort.  I did this despite the fact that the room was filled with other people.  And I think of this every day, how I am not at ease in the world alone unless I am interacting with someone, preferably a maternal or authority figure.  And this drive to seek solace from the fear orients much of what I do.  

 Perhaps the plant medicine did show me what I needed to see.  The role that fear plays in my life. How much of my experience in life is mediated by fear and how the alternative to fear is love.  When Max visited me last week he commented on how different I act when I am around my daughters that I am in other encounters.  How much softer and sensitive I am.  Perhaps that is the absence of fear which drives other relationships and encounters.  I have not taken the "scary" path in many of my relationships, but the the path to avoid fear.  Still fear has accomplished much for me in this life, and I would not have the job I do now if I was not driven by various fears to do what I do.  

If I encounter plant medicine in the future, I may ask for strength and wisdom to take the more scary path.  I ask for that now in my life.  For my experience with plant medicine was nothing more than a more amplified raw experience of my own life.   In retrospect, I did not follow the scary path during the ceremonies.  But I do not blame myself.  At that time,  I had no recollection of who or what I was or what I had been told.  I was operating at a base instinctual level.  The plant medicine just showed me what that base level was.  Now I have the opportunity to pursue love as an option with my new birth. To find a comfort and a home in myself. 

Jerry supposedly told us in one of the plant integration lessons that we would not have any more questions.  I was recently reminded of this by one of my fellow travelers from Puerto Rico--or was it Long Island?.  Questions may arise from fear.  Fear of loss.  Regret.  Doubt.  May I go toward the fear and listen to its voice.  Do not fear the answer.   There is no question.  There is just an answer if you move toward it.  Even if it means brushing up against your own madness on the dark side of the sun:-).