Friday, June 16, 2017

On The Hill

A few days "on the hill" without food and in some cases, water, doing nothing but sitting there appears to be a common practice among many indigenous peoples. Reasons why I decide to give it a shot are unimportant, it's what I experienced that was fascinating. 

Dietas done in South America (to the best of my knowledge) provide some food for the seven days (or however long you do) but they are unseasoned items like boiled potatoes, rice, boiled green plantains etc. Not appetizing even when you're stomach is growling. You are instructed to read, if you would like, for no more than an hour a day, write as much as you want -- otherwise, you are to just sit there. 

My camp was the last stop on a dirt road, five miles in, running through a national forest. It had a creek running by it and seemed to be a long way from anyone else - pretty much all I wanted. After the brief setting up of the hammock tent there wasn't much else to do so I created something to do - build a fire using the flint stick I purchased at REI a few days before. I quickly learned that making a fire with just about anything is easier than shooting a spray of sparks onto what you thought was dry tinder only to have it smoke languidly. Eventually I went to the Bic lighter and had a roaring fire going which I proceeded to sit by for most of the rest of that day and tend. 

Through the following two days and three nights, I realized why you are supposed to eat nothing and do nothing in these rituals. Eating generally requires you doing something to prepare or in exchange for the vittles which is probably why they bring the food to your tambo during dietas. A fire provides warmth, comfort and in a way it's another presence that helps you not feel alone because it requires your assistance to remain alive. All the things I found myself doing were subconscious ways of trying to distract me, to keep me from stillness.

On the last full day I decided to not build a fire, read at all or contemplate anything too much - simply just be there. Granted I wasn't in any sort of extreme weather requiring excessive thermal protection, but what struck me was how little it really takes to survive. Not eating for three days wasn't pleasant but it really wasn't that bad. Periodically food would pop into my mind I began to see how much of our time is spent either consuming or preparing to consuming (cooking, shopping, driving -- and of course working to pay for it all). Doing nothing was the hardest part or the experience. Relaxing should be easy but why couldn't I? We are continually looking away from our own reflection, unwilling to look it in the eye because it in essence is asking "why? Why are you continuing to lie to yourself, to be miserable?" Deep down I think everyone knows they are responsible for their own fate yet many feel impotent seeing no way out of "hell" and consequently consume while pointing fingers at something or someone. 

Food is comforting because it generally is associated with safety but have you ever seen a fearful person who feels safe enough? When do you have enough guns, money, sex? It's never enough because enough is a state of mind that cannot be conquered through greater and greater quantities of anything. There only is what is and how we each choose to interpret it. We've bought a lie that there is one right way to be and someone else can tell us what that is. Who is it that is choosing to follow that someone else? Most people want to be told what to do and be kept comfortable instead of facing the reflection in the mirror because the real question behind all the other bullshit is "who are you?" or "what do you want?" It seems like an easy question to answer but how much of what you would list is situational based? If the world ceased to be as it is now then what would be the point of your life, your desires? What would you do? Who would you be? It's a question that can never be completely answered but instead is discovered moment by moment as you experience it by allowing false beliefs to perish and the unknown to blossom.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017


Convince an individual that immortality awaits them,
after the body enclosing that spirit dies.

Eternal Torment,
or Eternal Bliss....
Separated by a chasm terribly vast;
defying any attempt to transverse.
Impregnable Permanency.

What reasonable person chooses eternal torment in an inescapable prison?
Particularly when mansions and gold or 72 virgins are on the table?

Zealots are grown in the same bullshit as everyone else; however, they believe themselves to be separate from the shit (or at least have the opportunity to be if only they do xyz). 

Pascal's wager is a logic based response to the fear generated by belief in existence being ray based - a vector with a start point and no end or return to its source.
Religion teaches one direction, two destinations.

Birth is a lie we believe to forget our immortality. 

Ray based eternity assumes that matter can be created,
just not destroyed.
Can god make a rock to big to lift? 

Annihilation assumes that matter can both be created out of nothing and destroyed.
Otherwise it assumes that consciousness is nothing more than magic. Science being magic only to those lacking understanding.

Nothing truly is real or unreal. Moments are the ever persistent illusion of consciousness being aware of something outside the reference frame of self.

"Please hang up and try your call again. If you need assistance dial the operator.
This is a recording..." 

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Nothing Lasts

Nothing lasts.

That moment - the one that keeps evaporating with each new line:

Lost forever, saved only by a memory - though not preserved. 

Records nuanced, personally autographed. 

Reliving fiction.

Fixated on what never was,

But for a speck of imagined time. 

Change recalcitrant, 

flaunting it's power; 


balanced by Nothing.

Nothing lasts. 

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Echoes in the Darkness

Trust in God,
Not in Man.

Perhaps I'm confused... 
I'm a man, should I not trust myself?

Above all:
Never Trust Yourself!

Why, then should I trust you,
over myself?

Expired credentials -
Usurped authority.

Threats veiled thinly,
Benevolence skinned,
donned as a disguise:
Present existence
offered as proof.
Perfunctory deigning,
Soul sleight of hand:
Who's best double-cross.

Form precedes message,
Wakes emanate:
Buffeting against soul.
Until transparent -
The truth contained,
in every lie.

Trust only in what endures:
yet Something -
Echoes in the darkness.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017


I locked my side door this morning when I went to take a shower telling myself "I'm not paranoid, I just wouldn't want my dog to get out if someone opened the door trying to break in..." okay so I don't want my shit to get stolen as well if I'm being honest, but really - I'm not that attached to any material objects, it's mostly about the dog... a break in the observation of thought and then it hit me, I (and most of humanity) do not like sudden change. We want to slowly wade into the pool to acclimate instead of getting thrown in. Even slight changes in "one small area of life" have ripple effect into the rest of life and the universe. What you choose to focus on defines what you see - no brainer; however, most people don't realize that that applies to every action and choice they make whereby a different object of vision inherently brings about shifts in everything. 

This leads back to the main goal of many humans: maintain the status quo. Keeping things the way they are is perceived as imperative to avoiding pain and suffering because we allow external things to define us as something quite set in stone. It's like our ego is a Jenga tower comprised of many things and relationships stacked upon each other, precariously balanced on the sole block at the bottom - your unwitting awareness. Each of the unexpected things that knock down our towers are Life shaking you awake to the reality - what and who you have believed yourself and life to be are all superfluous. 

Losing is necessary for winning and both are matters of perspective. When you go with the flow, there is no losing or winning; only a permanent state of transfer. Being stripped of the illusory blanket of story you have wrapped yourself in, that list of set pieces and supporting actors you felt defined by - brings an awareness of your own awareness. No matter what happens and changes around you, you are still there, at the center. Accept this grounding awareness and you experience the river flowing around you, which also implies through you as you offer no resistance. A constant state of flow where there is no gain or loss simply experience of the ever present Now. 

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

What's Going On

I haven't written much on here in quite a while for several reasons: the biggest two being, 1. The app I used to post quit functioning and I rarely am at a computer 2. I didn't feel like I had anything to say. Not having anything to say does not equate to nothing going on in my life: quite the contrary. There has been so much swirling around my psyche it has been difficult to nail anything down that is worth spending the time to write about. The more I read, ponder and experience, what I thought was important or "truth" seems less so. I can write passionately about something and then realize sometimes only hours later that I really didn't need to feel so passionate about whatever it was. In the grand scheme of things it all is "vanity" and the best thing you can do is to enjoy whatever it is that you do.  I've been asking myself "why do I do _____ ?" You can fill in the blank with anything and if you stop and are honest with yourself, you come to realize that most of what you do arises from environmentally programmed behavior. Children ask "why?" constantly until they are told enough times to shut up or are given the "it's just how it is" answer. I'm convinced most adults become exasperated by incessant questions because they don't know the why for many things and they don't want to admit that to anyone. So we continue to repeat the same cycle over and over again because changing things seems difficult. For instance we still use QWERTY keyboards when it's proven to not be the most efficient letter setup. Human society is rife with outdated ways of doing things because we are so attached to the way things are and lack the imagination that would propel us to make things better - that or we're just plain lazy.  The "advanced" civilizations of our modern age tend to look at the earth and all non-human life as something separate - a commodity to be used for whatever purpose desired. Watching Rise of the Planet of the Apes this past weekend I was struck by the scene where James Franco's character is telling Caesar "you know what they [the now super intelligent apes] are capable of". They're capable of the same things that humans are which is what causes the fear and attempts to remain on top of the food chain.  What if the earth and everything in it were all organisms in a greater entity? There are millions of bacteria in our bodies that are alive and most likely conscious to some extent. The only reason we think we are different than them is just that - we think we are. Adults persist in asking children "what do you want to be when you grow up?" as if they aren't something already. You don't have to "be anything" because you already are. The idea that we have to grow up, find a niche and then stay that way more or less till we die is existential poison. Everything can change in an instant yet it rarely does because we are afraid of the unknown. I havent posted much because the more I learn, the less I really have to say. We over complicate life in an attempt to justify our beliefs and ways of life when at the root of everything is incomprehensible simplicity.

Monday, March 6, 2017

Bully Pulpit

I'm like a preacher against the political, but mr. president don't take my shit literal, I rap rhymes in parables, spit from my bully pulpit parallels / draw my own lines to color outside, hyphenating eye beams, planks cleverly disguised - bridging duality, Being homogenized. One om with two names, Eaven and Ell, in between them only a perception of the other subconsciously generating distance, haughtily comparing faux-selves. Racing doggedly in oppossing directions around a möbius track, infinite laps, desperately trying to escape the now, this moment where we're at - repeating actions expecting a different recompense - an insane attempt to change the course of events / Chasing a mirage founded in flex, ignorantly concaving to the convex, illusory cheap tricks paying the rent - we've finally started coming abreast /false advertising revealed - repent, titilation falling flaccid upon an uncovered flat chest. RIP respirations away, punctured bullet proof vest, misplaced trust betraying, hope fading from eyes closing for arrest.  Now let me tell you about a guy I've observed for some time, Stan has a story only contextually different from mine - history repeating but we pay it no mind.  A kid taken advantage of, mistreated, abused even catching beatings when trying to follow the rules. Found camaraderie, comfort amongst others just like him, outcasts, misunderstood - they became fast friends. Formed a crew, made plans then collectively stood up, one day resisted the oppression, made the bullies back up.    Caught off guard, some fought back but most fled away, the union of youngsters came out victorious in the fray.  Waving flags made from the Ts ripped off their foes backs, they paraded around the playground, firecrackers punctuating screams of "hit the road jack".  Celebrating over the route didn't last long, when Stan got home that afternoon he could tell something was wrong.  His dad got a new job the family was moving away but he wasn't afraid anymore - something had changed. New school, history repeated but with a slight twist, Stan stood up for another, using his fists, pummeled "some jackass going around grabbing girls tits"  It felt good to be strong, a hero unafraid, receiving adulation, his lens locked into a frame.  Aftermath, rest period, disenchanted lined up, formed a club, wrote a charter, laid down rules, "only bullies get beat up".  "We're the good guys" they chanted flooding their brains with belief, washing with the water of words, sapling neurons quickly grow into trees.   Before ink soaked into parchment or the words even penned, their hearts violated the principles discriminating against sex, culture and skin. But no one ever noticed because the town hadn't diversified, a globe sealed tightly - it's easy to think it's snowing when your on the inside. Stan's now grown up, by his family and friends adored, won't hesitate to defend their honor, jump right into war. "Uncle Stan is the man, kicking ass for the Lord, we always win the fight with minimum casualties to our boys".  But what about the other sons, daughters, and wives on the wrong side - all the "them", many "innocent" losing their lives? "They get what they deserve, don't expect me to cry, if they were like us we'd live in harmony, see eye to eye" . Addicted to justice Stan fights for a cause but he'll never find peace while cleaving the world with his sword.  Earth-lings breath out, evacuate the lungs, exhale your ignorance, exhume what once was. We drink the same water, inhale the same air, the only thing between us - dogmas of error.  Other vs other, south vs south, rise up again, end up fighting the house. Pride propelled repulsion, jettison parts of ourself, ousting corrupt Alphas, the pride falls apart jostling for position to govern itself.  The oppressed become what they hated, thinking they're better than someone else, the mirror reflecting what's inside flipped Z axis of evol out.  Spend time with any creature, you'll find they're not just a thing, but intelligent beings no matter how insignificant they seem.  Experience makes it harder to mistreat something just as conscious as you, a lesson Stan learned in one day that changed his point of view.  A woman with a lifestyle he repudiated, in fact took joy to persecute, dragged him to safety from a fire fight, tenderly dressed his wounds.  "Why are you doing this?" He gasped in disbelief, in an instant questioning everything thing he once believed.  "We are all the same" she said softly wiping away his blood, "I love you" was the last words uttered before covering his body with her own while "friendly fire" blew the building up.


From the moment I popped out, I hatched a plan to go against the flow / at first got dragged along against my will - a slave to my circumstances I supposed.  Juxtaposed, I proposed to learned on my own, dropped out of school - broke all the rules, made the classroom my home.  I don't do show and tell, but I'm didactic with my flows, educating fools every day in these corridors I choose to roam.  Over half my life spent in a fucking shark tank, dark and dank, all the while eschewing jail bait - can't get hooked by these hooker when you understand it's your flesh that's the steaks.  Reeling you in with promises, stars in your eyes, you're caught on a string of imperceptible, invisible lies / claim they'll raise you to the stratosphere, let you touch the sky,  The silver pumpkin seeded clouds alluring, though ultimately a trap. Fight all you want but your stuck running that final lap.  "Want a piece of the pie, go where you're told" - fuck that shit man, I'll chart my own road.  One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish - they've cathfished your ass with these groupers you've been grouped with. Groupon, c'mon, they're perched on a plan, phish all your habits, till you're like guppies eating out of their hand.  Hauled into an atmosphere you can't handle but won't concede, reeling from air too thin to breathe, they watch as you suffocate trying to scream, if you're lucky they'll bash in your brains so you can't feel yourself bleed.  Close the lid on your life, chapter 12, bankrupt and iced. They're selling you off by the gram, now everyone wants a slice. It's a game to these hunters but we running for our lives, crackers use our babies but don't call it genocide,  Delicacy, words indelicately used to white wash, the tragedy of these little red ones happily knocked off, Chased by champagne - consuming the future to numb their gluttonous pain.  Making waves, against the tide, a fugitive for life / the status quo's fucked, stay in one place long enough, a net will gather you up. Interfering with patterns creating something new, following that inner sense, Iike the compass needle is you.  Bouldering, scaling walls, no damn obstacle will defeat me, I'll reach that summit, I'm mountaineering from the ocean - back to my babbling stream.  Gonna blow the full load right in that bed, no catch, just release, energy spent / gently falling asleep, letting go, the mission finally complete / Dropping under the lowest common denominator - LCD, liquid crystal dihydrogen monoxide - I'm talking sea level B— Below middle C, sinking deep, absorbed back into the infinite stream - lucid dreams, universal equilibrium achieved, escaping a form, the end...and scene For my homie: Salmon Grundy, born on a Monday, caught on a Tuesday, filleted on a Wednesday, bought on a Thursday, grilled on a Friday, interred on a Saturday, shit out by some catholic asshole on a Sunday. This is the end of Salmon Grundy