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:-).





Monday, September 4, 2017

Trauma

 I have seen in the eyes of a child the worry of the man he will be.

So I hid my papers

erased all clues

and little by little

waited for the ground to hit.

"Is that so important?"

"Where is the joy in that?"

She repeated.

"It does not alter the fact that you fell in love with me."

"It does not change a thing"

"Your slow motion limbo"

"Your delayed asphyxiation"

"Where is your strength?"

I never give up.  Never stop trying.

I repeated.

Its all I have

I looked at her imploringly.

"Maybe you should"

She suggested, considering, but did not meet my gaze

even for old times sake.