A Little Help From the Devic Realm

Whew! Yo, feeling hot these days? I'm feeling like I'm back in India, where you can barely manage to stay in your body, feed yourself and pour buckets of water on yourself and the floor all day. I haven't been able to concentrate on projects during the days, but do try to keep appointments and commitments, and do some work into the late hours. Here in northern NM we've been getting some good monsoon action on a regular basis, every day or two, and even a slight hint of fall, but we're still in the high 90s every day. Crops are doing extremely well locally, unlike much of the country. Interesting that much of the drought is hitting areas of concentrated GMO mega-farms. I tend to think that we may be seeing effects of elementals working on various planes and places, even though we barely acknowledge their existence any more in conversations and writings, even in the 'alternative' and 'awakened' circles. [Cue Gore Vidal: "The great unmentionable evil at the center of our culture is monotheism."]

I was visited by relatives over the weekend, and given a box of old letters and photographs and items, many 70 years old. Many revelations ensued on examining the contents, images and words never shown nor spoken before I left home and all family to pursue 'my destiny'. I was deeply moved by seeing my parents, young and in love, and their super cool rustic log-and-stone cabin in the high desert where I was conceived. I was weirded out seeing some of the assholes that made my childhood disturbing and incomprehensible. 
But, I really broke down upon seeing two photos of myself and my first dog. Brought home as a puppy when I was 4-5, she was my best friend for 10-11 years. When my dad passed away, I became so distraught, spaced out, overwhelmed by new responsibilities at age 14 that I completely neglected my loyal dog friend. She was eventually taken in by a neighbor, even more shit came down in my life, and she just disappeared from my awareness amidst the traumas and turmoil. I have felt, and carried, guilt over that for 50 years, and seeing her photo just broke the dam. At least I can put her up on my altar now, along with my other lovely familiars, and honor her spirit in the eternal present. 

I have written about some teachers and gurus, and I want to continue with that before I'm done here with this earthly plane. But, another aspect of this that I need to get off my chest is the reality of non-human teachers. This is the kind of shit that drives even animal-rights activists and animal-biology scholars crazy some of the time, though there is a growing minority that has no problem with it.

Vrindavan

One of my trips to India was a two-year study financed by a huge fellowship. I applied and was one of 5 recipients in the country for this prized award. I had a 9 year old feline buddy, very bonded, and there was no one close to care for him. His name was the Hindi word for 'messenger'. So I loaded him up and carried him on the plane, and the crew even let him sit on my lap (this was the 80s). That trip I lived very well, with all the amenities. He lived with me in Varanasi and the Himalayas, and became a well-known curiosity among the locals and a friend of all the musicians, masters and students. (He had been sleeping next to drums and veenas and singers since a kitten anyway.)

Varanasi

Then, back in the US, he traveled in the van for some time as we both adjusted to the culture-shock. At some point it became apparent that it was time for him to go, as certain events had taken a toll on his health. I did my best to keep him comfortable and safe, with medicines to ease his pain, and the day approached. Though very infirm, I carried him into my friend's house, and when we were alone he suddenly stood up and rose to his full height and put his head against my forehead and held it there. He spoke into my mind that he was grateful that I had taken him to India, that we had been together many times in many forms in many lifetimes, that he was a very advanced shamanic teacher, and that I was to take this understanding he was passing to me and manifest it into work with other animals and in passing on awareness of non-human sentience to other humans. 'Blown away' doesn't come close to describing my state afterwards. He passed during the night next to me in the van, and was buried under a tree in the forest in Washington state. 

In the early 90s I was 'kennel manager' for the town/county animal shelter for 3 years. We tried our best to hold animals way way beyond the proscribed time. One mama dog just stole our hearts, but wasn't getting adopted for months. So, what to do? I took her home. I hadn't had a dog since my childhood. She understood I had saved her life, and became fiercely loyal and protective. She was given the name of an Indian goddess. I was later to be living on the road a lot, in between roofs, and she traveled well and enjoyed the musician-companion life. After a few years, just before another extended trip from NM to Cali for gigging and work, she got ill, but seemed to recover. We hit the road, and bummed around Cali in the car, her sleeping nights in the car while I crashed at friends' places, and she kept all my instruments and stuff safe from thieves roaming the streets in San Fran for many weeks. As my couple months were coming to a close, and we would soon head back to the next assignment in NM, I noticed that her energy was starting to really wane. I took her to a vet, but they weren't thorough, and anyway I only had one more recording session to do and we could get back to my vet friend in NM soon. The session finally got done, and as I jumped in the car, I saw that something was seriously wrong. I headed right out onto the freeway, pedal to the metal, going east, praying. I drove through the night and got to Bakersfield at dawn, where I pulled into a vet clinic parking lot. I brought her in as the vet unlocked the door. Some tests were done, and I was told that her liver was destroyed, probably from anti-freeze. Then it hit me. My asshole neighbor's car had been leaking in front of my house back in NM and I kept telling him to fix it, but he kept blowing it off.

What this incredible dog had done for me was serve and protect me while we lived in the car for two months, while her liver was completely shot and she was suffering intensely, knowing that I needed her guardianship, and when she finally understood that her job was finished and I would be going home, she let herself be relieved from that duty and allow nature to take its course. I carried her back to the car and we began our last journey. I sang to her at the top of my voice for a hundred miles, and when we pulled off on a dirt road for a piss-stop, with compassion for my sorrow and torment, she left her body as I turned away for a moment. I always stop there on my way across the desert for a moment of remembrance, and her ravaged body was placed on a mountain-top in the Mojave. From her I was given perhaps my most profound teaching on seva, selfless service.
You could say that shit like this just comes from imagination and anthropomorphism. That is, until you get the fierce grace to witness and experience the reality and power of our animal allies in the proper state of receptivity. 

It is the same with the elementals, the kachinas, the devas. They still want to return to the state of being our allies, our servants, our teachers. We knew them once, and they await our call and invitation, our invocation. Some have been doing that for some time now, and maybe a trust has been regained. I don't think we were ever the ones who made war on the devas, but their, and the Mother's, pain and trauma has been enormous, so we need to really get clear and be clear on this matter. Our fierce and uncompromising support and love is both the key and our only hope. This is also the process that will deal with the wetiko problem. Not to minimize it, by any means, the wetiko problem is not just a human-predation phenomenon, and maybe it never was. The whole web of life has long been under attack. It just was not readily apparent in the local focus of the tribal and pastoral societies, but it should be obvious now what we're up against. It's a war, a multi-dimensional one, whether we view it in spiritual terms, temporal terms, or don't want to see it at all. One example is the situation of the Sea Shepherd Society now being involved in the African rhino protection - with former special-forces warriors armed with night-vision goggles, drones with infrared video tracking as well as automatic rifles - hunting down endangered-species poachers. That's a big step up from petitions and protest signs, and probably just the tip of the iceberg of what's coming.

As a footnote, you may or may not know that, as the Japan dolphin-killing season is set to begin on Sept. 1st, there is a group of islands 100 kms south of Tokyo whose inhabitants have declared full citizenship to the dolphins in their waters surrounding them - Japanese Island of Toshima. They are spreading the word to the rest of the country. It's time.          

One Awesome Day, 2012

9th August, 2012  Link

Have you ever read a horoscope that said "someone out of your past will show up"? I didn't read that, but I had a double whammy today. Sure, it's a personal thing, but it is so bizarre it seems worth sharing.

I have a long-lost first cousin (40 years+?) who was quite close in my childhood, greatly admired, a few years older. Being an only child, I looked up to him as a big brother, who once even loaned me his Jaguar for a week during high school. I dragged him to see the Jazz Crusaders, the original Staple Singers, flamenco and other groups in the 60s. Then we drifted off into separate worlds, as usually happens. He was of the only side of my 'family' that didn't disown me in those days. Still, we lost touch, both of us traveling internationally and around the US, living life in different universes.

He caught up with me last year via another cousin, and sent an email. Finally, this summer he and his girlfriend are working as rangers and guides at an Anasazi site in the southwest, and he took a few days off to come see me. He had been writing me that he had a box of 'stuff' from my mother who passed in '82, and he had kept it for me for 30 years! So I've just started reading my own letters from India in the 60s, and a whole bunch of other fascinating material, including photos.

Me at age 6

But, what's bizarre is that he came with his lady-friend whom he had mentioned had spent some time in India in the 60s too. My cousin knows practically nothing of my travels and studies, just a few anecdotes over the years. So we meet in the plaza in town, he introduces her, we talk for a bit, and I asked her where she went in India. She says "Ayodhya". I say, "oh really? I went there once for a couple weeks". She says "oh really, why?". I answer that "I went to visit a drum master/swami who was teaching some American students". Her jaw dropped to the floor and she replied "Swami Pagaldas was my teacher/guru for 6 years!!" She said my name, I said her name, and we both looked at each other dumbstruck.

Passport 1968

She was the ONLY female non-Indian who seriously studied my instrument - pakhawaj/mridang - ever. I had stayed in her house in Ayodhya, learned from her teacher for a couple weeks, had tried to search her out for 40 years, and gave up hope of ever finding out what became of her. And she's my long-lost cousin's girlfriend!  We're talkin 7 billion to one odds here...ok, 3.5 billion. We had practiced together, ate together, drank 'bhang' made by Swamiji and sat all night in the Shiva temple on Shivaratri (my first). All her guru-bhais (from Pagaldas) died prematurely in the mid-80s except for one (who I re-found 3 years ago - by running into his sister, whom I'd never met, in the woods on Maui!!!).

Pagaldas (L) & ZM Dagar (R)

Mridangacharya Swami Pagaldas ('servant of the craziness'') was the greatest living repository of the ancient Sanskrit drum poetry tradition. He may have been the greatest who ever lived, as far as we know. The drum poetry consists of thousands of invocations, descriptions, celebrations, etc. of all the deities and mythologies of India in the form of both spoken and played rhythmic compositions. These have been handed down for centuries, nay millenia. I only possess a few, and they are only given to the very advanced students, and are the most difficult to execute correctly. One Hanuman composition actually took me 5 years to master, so you get the idea.

So, some kind of crazy grace and serendipity has brought me together with a guru-bahin (sister) who I had no idea was even alive. Makes me wonder if this is part of the timewave or something that happens to people very late in life or, hell, just beats the shit outta me...?? Another thing is that, reading my own letters, I see that I was saying exactly the same things 40 years ago that I write about now. Same words, same shit, different decade; war on the environment, war on culture. And I'm still talkin' "crazy talk". It could be depressing, but with this over-the-top synchronicity it feels like something else is blowing in the wind, something unknown, undefinable, unimaginable. Maybe something wondrous? 

Simply Living

A short post today, primarily to feature a couple of videos that pretty much sum up the essence of what I have attempted to convey on this blog, on a personal level and a shared universal  vision of human harmonization with the sacredness of life in its many forms of infinite beauty. 
I remember John Lash recently speaking of receiving, from Gaia, a possible future epitaph for humanity - "Perished by the failure to observe beauty". I hope these small offerings leave you touched by the beauty you hear and see. And may we all give ourselves time to observe the many awe-inspiring encounters of sundara appearing daily in the rest of our time here. Om Satyam Shivam Sundaram.

Probably 15 years ago I had the pleasure of hearing and meeting the Scottish brother Dick Gaughan at a small venue in Albuquerque. We shared some tobacco during the break and spoke of sacred musics of the world, and it was a simple roots-grounded one-heart appreciation of our shared love of the real music. He's now also in his 60s, and this is a newer song penned by him....lyrics follow. 
   

The days and the hours swiftly turn into seasons
The weeks and the months quickly turn into years
The present is coloured by memories of childhood
Of heartache and happiness laughter and tears

I've flown and I've driven long miles by the million
Through desert and forest and high mountain range
Through pastures of plenty and dark city byways
A life on the move in boat, car and train

Thirty five years of singing and playing
Thirty five years of life on the road
Laughing at tyrants and spitting at despots
I've danced in the footsteps of men like Tom Joad

They've called me an outlaw they've called me a dreamer
They said I would change as I aged and grew old
That the memory would fade of the things I had lived
through
That the flash fire of youth would slowly turn cold

But I raise up my glass and drink deep of its flame
To those who have gone who were links in the chain
And I give my soul's promise I give my heart's pledge
To outlaws and dreamers and life at the edge

So here's to the vision that binds us together
That tears down the walls that would keep us apart
And here's to the future where dreams will be honoured
And the fierce flame of freedom that burns in our
hearts

The fire is still burning the future's still calling
To follow the dream till the end of my days
Wishing's for fools but dreams are for outlaws
Laughter's for lovers and tears for the brave

I raise up my glass and drink deep of its flame
To those who have gone who were links in the chain
And I give my soul's promise I give my heart's pledge
To outlaws and dreamers and life at the edge

And this following video, the reason for this posting, I found referenced on John Lash's website. It hardly requires any comment, but I would simply add that elsewhere Kevin Richardson states unequivocally that it all happens through total attention on intuition, a lesson learned through experience. 

 

Looking forward to throwing down some Orissa tribal rhythms in a solo performance with fire puja next Friday night at the 3-day Tribal Vision Festival  - "ceremony/music/dance/art/sustainability", featuring Paul Stamets and cast of thousands.

It's really very simple

  

The Surreal Work of the Kali Yuga - UPDATE

Kailash Om

UPDATE:....On a previous post regarding the SURREAL Animal Rights/Web Investigations into the Canada Cannibal, and the "stellar" police misprision non-investigation. I refer you to this exclusive exposé link at DANGEROUS MINDS.   
I would have to say that the earthly temporal manifestations of the divine leela have gone pretty far over into the surreal category at this point, and certainly exceeding my own weirdest entheogenic future-visions of my early out-of-time explorations. Back then, there seemed to be an undetermined open-endedness, a wealth of possibilities, directions, resolutions. In these times, isolation is intensified, in every outing in these environs, by the distinct repeated impression that what is surreal to me is simply accepted(?) as normal for pretty much everyone around, both 'asleep' and 'awake'. But, in two months I have had a face-to-face true reality check-in with another human only once since my close friend left on his journey, and that was in conjunction with a student music lesson. (If the teaching goes good, a sacred window can be opened where the rasa of Adbhutam - wonderment/awe - blows in and transmissions happen spontaneously in the form of gestures and glances, and you drop into a place where the topic is all-inclusive…) But that isolation trend has been consistent for some years now, not exactly new. I used to be fairly adept at steering conversations away from bullshit, but, for one, I'm tired, and second, most in my age-group are seemingly shell-shocked or have a white-knuckled death-grip on illusion-maintenance.  Maybe it's because I've been surrounded by lazy humans for too long, who haven't been at the work they should have been? That's part of it, but also can't deny my own laziness. Maybe I 'should' have gotten out more? It's hard to be 'elder-ly', goddamnit! You do what you can to keep the melancholy at bay. 

Apparently, if you have your shit together in certain areas, you don't actually have to 'do' anything…more like stopping 'doing' is the general idea. Then you get made aware of things like grace, synchronicities, appearances of 'open windows', revelations of one's true desires, and such. I've never been apprised of any technique to call that in, but have met some individuals with a unique magnetic field that seems to attract a lot of that. (They all did the work.) Some fairly interesting hits have been recently coming in my direction, though I'm very reticent to grasp hold of the idea of a 'trend'. I do need to cross some big threshold into a different reality here, and that feeling of being damn near out of patience is non-stop. Hell, that's why my bro hit the road and crossed the border, gettin' the fuck outta Dodge.

Synchronicity, for me, isn't always wonder-full and awe-inspiring, and sometimes it's downright sorrowful and tragic -  the Karunyam rasa. Karunyam also invokes compassion too, of course, but it doesn't spare the grief.
But I've had both of those two types of so-called 'emotional empowerments' manifest in synchronous ways recently. Just noticing and observing.
 
I was looking at videos to rent and picked out a story of a Mississippi bluesman, and a minute later an old friend, a local master blues-guitarist who I'd not seen in a couple years, was standing next to me. He handed me a film called "Throw Down Your Heart", saying "this is the shit for you, my man". He couldn't have been more right on. Made in 2008, it follows banjo master Bela Fleck on his journey to bring the banjo back to Africa, it's place of origin. Specifically, Uganda, Tanzania, Gambia, and Mali.
I could only find Hulu versions with annoying commercials searching for "watch online for free" sites, so I encourage readers to rent and watch, including the 'extra' out-take extended tracks. It's a hell of an inspiring film, and great to watch Fleck gradually drop into the African vibe as he throws himself into the unknown through his many musical encounters. It's heavy, too, considering the dual ways to interpret the idea of "throwing down your heart"….but that's to be discovered in watching. This film precisely depicts what music is really about in the latter days of the Kali Yuga. That was the awe-rasa synchronicity. Here are 3 clips up on YouTube from the film:
And with the extraordinary Oumou Sangare - (been listening to her cassettes for 25 years):
 

Another synchronistic film-related event (karuna rasa):
I rented newly released "The Hunter", starring Willem Dafoe (met him last year), not knowing much about the plot. Back home, opened an email entitled "A Glimpse of What We've Lost: 10 Extinct Animals in Photos". The first photo displayed was of the Thylacine (Tasmanian 'tiger'). Well, holy shit, that is the very animal on which the film is centered. 

 
The film is pretty well done, filmed in Tasmania, billed as an intense 'thriller', little violence though nor any animal abuse involved. But be forewarned: it is a very tragic and disturbing film with the lead character hired by an evil POS biotech corporation to 'get' the last surviving individual of the species for DNA marketing purposes. Wetiko qualities are readily displayed. In the end, Dafoe's character chooses a shocking, desperate, redeeming(?) action.

I have been despairing that my best (consistent) student had moved away, but yesterday acquired a new student via Skype. O...K...grace. This is a new experiment for me, but seemingly worth trying. Others have been increasingly contacting me over last couple years to do this, so, while this tech is still around I figure I may as well take advantage. It's free, too, so…may as well spread what the wetikos hate.

Still trying to ward off the melancholy on a daily basis.
I take some comfort from being made aware that, due to the work of Jill Robinson and her dedicated local allies, over 1000 Chinese doctors (DOMs) at 8th Shanghai International Forum of Infection Control have pledged to not use/prescribe Moon Bear bile products. (Rhinos next!!) She has been rescuing bears in Asia since 1994 (close to 400 now), and has the website AnimalsAsia as well as many YouTubes, including lovely tours of sanctuaries established throughout Asia. She is a true major world-class front-line heroine who deserves all support and resources possible. Up there with Capt. Paul Watson - who, btw, is now on the run in hiding from the Japanese whaling and shark-finning mafias. Wetikos are getting pissed.
A very heart-rending vid here of the rescued and now sanctuaried bear, Oliver, who survived 30 FUCKING YEARS caged.
 

This shit is impossible to get one's mind around. We're in a fucked up matrix of which there are no words to even get close to defining. The wetikos are frothing at the mouth for more and more of the same. Its what they do, and feed on. That's why I try to repeatedly banish despair as it arises - just to deprive them of a few snacks. Not from me, you extermination-deserving lifeless archontic pieces of fecal matter!
"Have a nice day!"

Talking Grief and Joy, Words of Power and Silence

I honor and respect the power and magic of the written and spoken word ('in the beginning'), but also tend to be geared more to sound vibration for it's true primacy (primal Aum), and that probably connects to my having been drawn to instrumental music, rhythm, and mantra-based vocal traditions. It did not surprise me to find an infinitely deepening pathway to inner discovery in a lifetime of exposure to more and more layers and levels of sublime subtlety and power there. But that is a path experienced by only a privileged few, and a privilege it is, accompanied by great gratitude. 

But we inhabit a world not so tuned to pure sound (Nada) and silence, but more to ideas written and spoken. And I'm in that matrix as much as everyone else. I'm also not 'a writer', in the artist/professional sense. But it is a curious contemplation to me about the 'process'. The only process I know involves certain steps: becoming aware of the 'calling' of the moment (of mental/emotional freedom), listening to the vibrational spectrum of the drone, matching the precise harmonics and overtones of my instrument at every point till I feel the merging in my body (shanti), and then becoming aware of what the instrument 'wishes to say' in relation to the moment and environment. 
I have no idea if there are similar or completely different processes involved in the art of 'wordsmithing', storytelling, and oration. My own processes can be either instantaneous or drawn out, and maybe that is the case in the latter practices. I don't know. But in this life I have experienced occasions where the power of both written and spoken word have reached comparable depths as those of musical expression. These have all involved spiritual/emotional/empathic dimensions, and have come from 'unknown' teachers, friends, poets, writers, orators and mystics living and dead, and those would include Rumi, Hafiz, Kabir, Trudell, Prechtel, MLK, Ramana, and a number of others - all of whom have entered into the 'bhav' and channeled timeless truths. What was said stays with me, becomes part of my 'remembrance', and I return there to heal my tribulations. 

I bring this up because, for one, this is the blog world and I have been minimally involved as well as much enjoying others' expressions, but also because I have more and more recently become bored with the spiritual and temporal superficiality of many of the popular contributions. There are a few exceptions, and those ladies know of whom I refer. I read for spiritual insight, tracking collective emotional 'weather', and for deep research into the forces and motivations of our adversaries as well as updates on the guerrilla successes against the wetiko institutions. I have neither the time nor interest in following either doom-predictions or external-salvation-hopeyness, nor narcissistic cooler-than-thou wanna-be sage and hip western cultural icons. I guess I'm just stuck with my artistic authenticity values extending to all realms. And 'deep' seems to be a matter of personal perspective. I've never gotten over the shock of realizing how little western man is satisfied with, as well as the tendency to claim expertise in subjects which one has not been deeply, genuinely immersed in. I really don't want to go there now, so I'll say no more.

Speaking of hopeyness, I appreciated the below-linked transcript of a sermon given last Sunday in Austin by Robert Jensen, which came from a site I subscribe to. Good on him for speaking the spiritual truth in a Christian church. I consider this to be a small example of right use of the spoken word ('vak'=siddhi of speech).
Hope Is For The Lazy: The Challenge Of Our Dead World

"Nature does not negotiate."

"Avoiding reality because it is harsh is not a winning strategy."

"There may, in fact, not be a winning strategy available to us at this point in history. But we have an obligation to assess the strategies available, and work at the ones that make the most sense. That is how we make a credible claim to being human. We don't become fully human through winning. We embrace our humanity by acting out of our deepest moral principles to care for each other and care for the larger living world, even if failure is likely, even if failure is inevitable."

He quotes Wendell Berry - “You can't know who you are if you don't know where you are.”

"To be truly hopeful is to risk irrelevance when engaged in polite conversation in mainstream America. Irrelevance, in these situations, is a virtue. Our chance of saving ourselves depends on enough people willing to be irrelevant soon enough."

He also quotes James Baldwin - "[we] must remember, however powerful the many who would rather forget, that life is the only touchstone and that life is dangerous, and that without the joyful acceptance of this danger, there can never be any safety for anyone, ever, anywhere." 

"The two, grief and joy, are not mutually exclusive but, in fact, rely on each other, and define the human condition."

Well, irrelevance is a pretty familiar feeling for me these days, even though I'm able to avoid 'polite conversation' most of the time. Maintaining a retreat status with sound, silence, and a nourishing natural environment works well and keeps my focus off stress, preferring the words and expressions of the masters. Reading and viewing some archival films of a genuine master, intimately connected to the natural world, I came upon unknown details of an astonishing story. It relates to the sage Ramana Maharshi of Arunachala, South India. The story itself is the relationship he had for many years with the cow "Lakshmi". (There's even a book called "The Life of Lakshmi the Cow".) Lakshmi (name of goddess of abundance) was given to him in 1926 and became a visibly ardent devotee engaging in daily conversations with the master, demonstrating full sentience, informing him of her needs and joys, insisting he be the first to welcome each new calf (often on his birthday), attending daily meals with devotees, insisting he be the first to enter her new shed/quarters and bless the foundation ceremony, always facing his room/window, and many other marvelous episodes which continued for decades. Ramana also had deep connection with deer, peacock, crow, dog, etc, many of  whom have their samadhi/tombs on his ashram grounds and are kept up to this day. Lakshmi's passing in 1948 was attended to by Ramana in the manner afforded to a mahatma, as he personally guided her over into ultimate liberation (videhamukti), accompanied by tears of grief and joy. There is much more in the details, which can be read at the Ramana blog.

"It is not true that birth as a man is necessarily the highest, and that one must attain realisation only from being a man. Even an animal can attain Self-realisation."

So, there you have it, read it and weep. Life is stranger than any of us know, and places like India are not just 'other cultures' but other all-inclusive realities, worlds within our world which include unknown truths (as well as supreme lies and frauds). We have been tragically discouraged from outer, as well as inner, exploration in our wetiko-controlled delusional system, and it's nearly infected the whole planet. 

To wind up this 'word' post, I leave you with this short talk of exceptional words of power - 
Philip Wollen: Animals Should Be Off the Menu 
[Full debate: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNED7GJLY7I&feature=relmfu]

Wetikos to the Fore, Again

Well, we've covered the Wetiko problem here and in quite a few other locations. We know it's an old and well known 'disease' in both indigenous and modern industrial 'civilizations', and its study and exposure has been greatly beneficial to many normal people's ability to penetrate the multiple layers of our situation in these times. I've been checking the mounting number of Wetiko-zombie-cannibal stories appearing in msm and alt sites. It's been making me remember how, decades ago even, we wondered if, and when, these types of things might get 'triggered' by the controlling mind-fuckers as they 'switched on' the 'sleepers'. 'A Peasant' recently said, "definitely it has a lot of angles with the MK ultra sleepers, the social engineering, predictive programming, vaccine solution, etc.", and that about sums it up. More than that, we mostly don't know.
But there is a back story aspect to one of the cases that has not gotten any US coverage. It concerns the Montreal/Toronto suitcase dude, the gay porn star spook-like freak.  It has been covered by Canadian press in Edmonton, Calgary, Montreal, Ottawa, Vancouver, etc. and was linked to on the Animal Liberation Front website.
Apparently, the psycho posted animal-killing videos on YouTube in 2010 and started a world-wide effort to track him down amongst the AR activist communities - 2 years ago! "They notified humane societies and police departments in Toronto and Montreal, posted rewards, spent countless hours poring over videos and photos for clues, established a thick dossier on Magnotta, and identified fake Internet personas that seemed to be leaving false trails to confuse the people pursuing him....By January of 2011, after frantic online searching, animal lovers tentatively had identified Magnotta as the suspect. They meticulously compared photos that Magnotta posted of himself, identifying jewelry and furnishings that appeared in both, until they were certain they had found the right guy.....in December 2011, he posted two more [animal-killing] videos....They posted images of him around the Internet, and on bulletin boards in the real world....On the Facebook group where they shared photos, member after member fretted that he would move on to human victims....'In essence we need police help but the police won't act upon anything, that we are aware of, until we can determine where the videos were created and/or where the videos were uploaded from. YouTube won't release IP information until notified by the police.' In a statement, the Ontario Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals reported that after being informed of the allegations in February, 2011, they reached out to Toronto Police, the FBI, the RCMP, the Quebec Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and the Montreal police."
Today, after over two years, there is now an international manhunt and Interpol warrants out for this Wetiko (PTB psycho-drone?) who likes to use 3-name-combo aliases. The rest of this is just another fairly familiar story, isn't it? It also should be noted that the dude posted a bunch of the typical racist stuff on Stormfront, the neo-nazi website. ('They' really have the programming protocol down cold, don't they?)
John Lash relates a story from an Inuit elder about their way of dealing with the "Fat-Stealer/Wetikos" - they invariably meet with an unfortunate hunting accident and don't return from the outing. He says everyone knows what the problem is and what needs to be done, and societies cannot tolerate their presence. In this way the harmony and security of the tribe was preserved.
And, but, here in upside-down world we have Communication Management Units for empathetic animal people. Communication management - kind of takes your breath away, doesn't it? Can't have people communicating what is obvious to everyone, now can we? Anyway, as pointed out numerous times, AR people are "the most dangerous terrorists", even though no animals or humans have been harmed or killed - EVER.
It should be obvious now that 'civilization', not withstanding all the 'benefits', has been fostered and designed by and for the Wetikos over many millenia, and they are nervously toasting their 'victory' at this moment.

At a deeper shamanic perception level, we know the mystic reality is that this beautiful world, at the atomic level, consists of a vast emptiness. All the diamonds, emeralds, pearls, sapphires, gold and silver are as ephemeral as all the bodies of sentient beings and indeed the entire earth herself. And every particle of creation is equally a jewel unto itself. We reside in Manidvipa. Graham Hancock spoke recently about the problem of our perception modes being limited to (1) 'alert, problem-solving consciousness', and (2) the kind of zone-out inebriated consciousness; those options are how most of humanity rolls.  He laments the long-term war on natural entheogenic plant use as well as other altered-state-inducing practices such as drumming and dancing which have proved beneficial for thousands of years in keeping human societies balanced in relation to the rest of the natural world. He posits that the "demonization and persecution of altered states is denying our next vital evolutionary step", and "the expansion of our consciousness is the essence of what it is to be human". And points to the deeper root of the problem imposed on us that "we are not allowed to be sovereign over our own consciousness".  A clear definition of absolute insanity.

On a related note, there is an extremely fascinating couple of (very long) essays on the subject of 'Carno-Locavorism' (and the politics of killing animals) - the new diet craze espoused by various groups which includes the 'Paleo' diet and other 'meat-protein'-based practices, also 'eating local', plant/animal sentience arguments, and a host of related subjects closely examined in a critique of Lierre Keith's book Vegetarian Myth. Very informative and a heated debate with Derrick Jensen weighing in on many important aspects of our current population-and-food dilemma. Maybe it's just me, but I see the Wetiko problem, true sovereignty, and relations to animals and the natural world all being related and vital subjects to contemplate, in a creative manner of course.
Blood and Soil
More on "Persons" and the Politics of Killing Animals


Time for video -
2012 Dhrupad Mela, February (Shivaratri) in Varanasi. This has been an annual feature since the 70s, started by my original guru, Pt. Amarnath Mishra, on his property on the Ganges River.
Performers are: Pt. Prem Kumar Mallick and son - vocals; Pt. Manik Munde - pakhawaj (drum). [Personal note: I toured Germany with Prem Kumar in '99, most fun ever! Manik-bhai is my only other surviving guru-bhai from Amarnathji - awesome!]

Immersed in Sentience

Nataraj - exoticindia.com

What makes a person able to recognize and be horrified, confused, and deeply disturbed by the insanity of the Matrix at a very young age? Or, conversely, accept or barely notice that nothing feels or appears right? It's something I've never been able to figure out. Admittedly, growing up in the 50's amerikkka we were immersed in an atmosphere of mostly 'normalcy' and 'progress'. Shiny sleek cars, cinemascope, vacations, school-spirit & cute cheerleaders, and the Norman Rockwell vision effectively pushed racism, militarism, classism, domestic abuse of humans and other sentients, conceit and hubris, and such things into the background, sort of. Some of us noticed some glimpses through the cracks.
But by early teens, things really looked unmistakably unnatural and 'off', even without being personally subjected to the horrors of some of our peers. Maybe I just 'caught the vibe' from my father, who definitely was not enthusiastic about 'civilization' and the superficial lives of his contemporaries. His favorite pastime was spending a day by a stream with a fishing line in the water, quietly listening and feeling the surroundings, lovingly expressing his joy at being a dad to his only child. When he was 65, and I was 13, he confessed that he was actually no longer comfortable about the suffering of the fish, and that the pastime was losing its appeal. Pity he only lived another year, but that day remains clear in my mind. 

Three years later 'they' blew JFK's brains out (for purposes of demonstration), and by then I had zero doubt that we were living in a kind of hell realm unequalled since the inquisition/witch-hunt days (was I there, then?). I knew also that we were headed into a sci-fi nightmare of massive horrific slaughter of 'gooks' (better death through chemistry), repression and backlash in 'the south' and northern ghettos, destruction of the environment along with inevitable fucking up our DNA, and fastly increasing downpressing of the youth - since my generation, and those slightly older, were coming into a consciousness change. Yes, even before drugs(!) some saw the writing on the wall. There was also a feeling of a very possible mass awakening and exciting anticipated victory over the old order. But, not to be. Some of us renounced the old paradigm and never looked back, bailing college, self-educating and experiencing the greater world, eventually ending up as 'old hippies'. Hmm. Others didn't, and spent the next 4-5 decades carrying on, trying to manage an increasingly difficult balance of 'normal life' and adjusting to perplexing constant change. I've just never been sure why I was a part of the former group, or why so many of my generation became the latter only to have to confront their own kids' non-acceptance and/or rebelliousness in other (d)evolved forms.

I'm not even sure the 'choices' were truly choices. Teachers and experiences appeared before us and turning away only seemed absurd non-options. Never knowing a permanent home was irrelevant, we were exiles and gypsies, and the whole world was our home. 'World citizens'...heh. Great masters opened their doors to us. The finest traditional artists on the planet coached us through our initiatory processes. We had our work cut out for us, a long-term learning process with no end in sight. A real 'mission impossible' in our view.
Should I name-drop a mind-blowing list of the most eminent gandharvas of our age, whom we studied with and gigged with, or should I just refer the reader to the "Mridang Artist's" page? Pretty pointless, since the names mean nothing to all but a few hundred people in the 'western' world, but that's how it played out, probably by some pre-birth arrangement. And I'm ok with it. Those listed folks, for 40 years, have been my real 'family'. [Now days, when I drop back into the sangeet world, what I constantly hear is, "You are more Indian than we are!" Cracks me up every time. I don't know exactly why, but I have some suspicions.] The 60's were a different experience for some of us who felt the deep auspiciousness of the moment but didn't identify with the general alternative "star-focussed", western-centric vibe. Some percentage grasped the necessity and importance of getting a deeper understanding of older and colonized cultures, and the focus was drawn in that direction. Being at a major underground publication enabled us to associate with many prominent personalities and creative folks, allowed us access to backstages of revolutionary events like the Be-Ins/Gathering of the Tribes, Monterey Pop, Fillmore, Winterland, and such, as well as exclusive interviews with iconic 'stars' of the time. As a member of Micky Hart's ensemble, we opened for big acts and hobnobbed with the blow-snorting, primo-smoking set, etc. But when I got a call to tour with a great world-treasure traditional musician, I immediately packed my bags and said goodbye. I could see things were soon going to shit, and the real 'revolution' was going to get sidetracked. Too much ego, self-obsession, fame-ambition, and historical ignorance in the hangers-on/wannabe scene. And ultimately booooring. It killed many of my friends from that time. The revolutionary movement was going to proceed from within. I also preferred entheogenic sacred medicine journeys solo, in the deserts and forests, not with 20,000 inebriated freaks.

New Mexico Magazine

[Excuse me a moment. Have to encourage the hummingbird who flew in to head back out the door. Ahh. Thanks for visiting!]
..But traveling abroad and in Asia, friendly, hospitable folks were everywhere. We just assumed that our fellow citizens would somehow 'get it' and everybody would eventually get up to speed in their own time and come together, no problem, and a global transformation would no doubt eventually happen organically. But, by the mid-80s, came the stark realization that we weren't fully paying attention, and that the depth of depravity of long-forgotten (experienced?) burning-times had been, well, forgotten/repressed.

I personally undertook a massive, lengthly study of all the intricacies of many of the worst periods of known human history, searching for the roots and origins of the spiritual error, and at the same time, via a spiritual 'transmission' from Sri Hanumanji regarding monkey-export trade happening in India, what became a thorough, detailed examination of the atrocities taking place in the worlds of our fellow sentient beings, and became somewhat involved in various forms of activism. This drove my 'friends' crazy and away. Tracking ever-increasing revelations in these areas over the following decades became a continuous study, and the picture unfolding of the true reality of the depth of degeneracy grew into a dark vision beyond comprehension and description. Living in urban amerikkkan environments, where my art took me into 'new age' and 'spiritual' communities, became a constant nightmare of being treated as a shit-disturber and a disturbed unevolved 'dreaming the dark' negative unwelcome outsider. I shouldn't dwell on such 'dark' things, and attend more crystal prosperity workshops. I retreated into relative isolation, and kept my professional and musical life going by keeping my mouth shut on other subjects, letting others assume I was a newage 'team player'. Inside, I felt intense disgust toward these worlds of half-baked 'spirituality' and guru scams, pervasive spiritual materialism. Mediocrity, posing, and profound ignorance of the real horror of our situation was to be maintained at all cost.

And, here we are. Long time passing, and still billions continue to sleep-walk, entranced in the illusion of 'normalcy', while murderous psychopaths commit unspeakable crimes against everything beautiful and innocent. Ancient Hindu scriptures warned us of this time, but the realities surpass those visions, and even 'old testament' scenarios, at least in scale if not in depravity. No wait, I take that back. We are experiencing equally deep depravity and horrific insanity as our ancestors/selves did in the burning times, but mostly on a vibrational level only because it's happening to other peoples and to the natural world as a whole, including all other species. We here in the 'privileged west' just don't witness it first hand much. But it's common knowledge to all those tuned into the inter-webs that the human race, and Gaia herself, is on the brink of oblivion. It shouldn't surprise us here in the center of the insane world empire, as the 'puritan founders' viewed Wilderness itself as 'satanic'. Only the terms have been updated, as we can clearly see from this (shocking?) new excellent report on the USDA's "Wildlife Services". Obviously, and unfortunately for humans, the Savonarola-types and all their 'specialist' cohorts have also somehow gained incarnation in this time. Maybe that's the point. Malleus Maleficarum has been re-released in a new updated edition. McGowan's Programmed to Kill is the new Cliff Notes version (and should be a required school textbook). There's also a new addendum/epilogue HERE if you wanna get up to speed on the sordid, gory details. Most readers here though, I don't think, need more evidence. The veils are thin enough already. Orwell's dark vision was true and prophetic.
"The object of persecution is persecution.  The object of torture is torture.  The object of power is power."
"How does one man assert his power over another, Winston?  Winston thought.  By making him suffer, he said."
"Progress in our world will be progress towards more pain, a world which will grow not less but more merciless as it refines itself."
"In our world there will be no emotions except fear, rage, triumph, and self-abasement.  Everything else we shall destroy, everything."
There you have the Archontic-Weitko-bloodline program in a nutshell.
Actually it is just one part of the program. The up-close and personal part. The other part is the Geo-Terrorism 'disaster' area. Things like Christchurch, Haiti, BP-Gulf, Katrina, Fukushima, and who knows how many others. Some say Fuku is equal to 10,000 Chernobyls, and that the gene-pools of all animal, plant, and micro-oganism species will be degraded within 2 or 3 generations.
That is what is seen when looking in a certain temporal and historical direction. Here, our options are shifting dimensional realms and planetary relocation.

We all know there are other directions, both without and within, often simultaneous. Luckily we have had these options and time for inner and outer journeys, had we chosen to avail ourselves. One day, in the mid-70s, I contemplated an early exit from this plane. Figuring on 'forcing' a divine response, I positioned myself on the edge of a figurative abyss while 'altered' and aided by deep immersion in Shri Yantra meditation.
The shocking response was an extended invoking and darshan of the Goddess Kali. But this was not a mere frozen tableau appearance. It was a complete sense-surround dynamic exposition of all of the scriptural heritage of ages of seers' visions of the deity. She literally carried me with Her through eons of Her evolution and works at hyperspeed. It was something that took years to digest and assimilate. Much later I heard the scriptural descriptions, and they matched perfectly, and brought me weeping to the floor (still does). My understanding of this event and type of phenomenon is that of something accessible to humans (and maybe other sentients) in a particular form in a particular environment if there is openness to it. She is simultaneously rooted in the land and in the consciousnesses of the inhabitants, living and passed. Kali is, of course, a widely revered and worshipped goddess in many parts of India, also including various other forms and appearances, and extending back in time beyond all historical recording. And, importantly, far from being a disembodied 'voice in my head', 'my' own consciousness 'existed' as the sole divine primal masculine consort (Shiva), experiencing an 'existence' alternately given and taken away by Her (our?) dance of creation and destruction. All else 'outside' of Shiv-Shakti was/is maya. Maya, though, is not 'illusion'. All that exists is an integral part of this divine coupling. Sentience is both the conscious awareness of, and manifestation of, Shiv-Shakti. There is nowhere in the organic living world without sentience. We are everywhere surrounded by, and imbedded within a matrix of sentience. I believe Kali is one form of Gaia's sentience which can manifest for our edification. Maybe sometimes as Kwan Yin or White Buffalo Woman or Washer At The Ford, or one of many animal familiars?

So, how do we relate/interact with what surrounds us - sentience? If this is a 'school' planet, no one graduates without mastering this basic lesson. There's no 'auditing' of the course, or ass-kissing the teacher for a passing grade. Once one's completed the 'homework', there's still the 'field-work' project to be successfully undertaken, which requires a creative demonstration of one's mastery. That is the great challenge, no easy task, but what I have come to understand is required after a life of many attempts at shortcuts. Can we demonstrate the sovereignty that is our true Shiv-Shakti essence in the face of the pressure of the supreme lie of 'separateness'? We seem to be in the season of our final exams, and I may be using metaphors that make no sense, but it is as close as I can get to what I have been given to understand. There's a huge amount of sentience aligned with us in this endeavor, including our mother planet Herself. I think we will all collectively determine what goes down, and when, in this continuous creation in fluid temporality. I am both scared shitless and exquisitely chillaxed about it all. I am not a 'decider', prophet, or 'in charge', but agree every moment to move forward toward that which arises before me, with integrity and dignity, since that seems to be the example set by the rest of the natural, sentient world. The above is merely one individual's perspective, neither 'enlightened' nor comprehensive. Nothing more, nothing less.

Fox friend - The Wildlife Center

Daily lessons never stop coming. I have taken on a couple dogs after some years without, and since I'm a 'fire dog' it's mostly a great pleasure, as well as 'schooling'. Recently happened upon a video called "Dogs Decoded" (free online), showing some recent advances in scientific research. Seems while archeological evidence points to 30,000 years of domestication, the mitochondrial DNA says 100,000 or more. DNA research also shows ALL dogs have evolved solely from wolves. Russian research with foxes has demonstrated that selection for non-agressiveness and human interaction actually changes the shape and appearance of the animals on its own over a number of generations. Dogs have uniquely evolved with the ability to respond to the human 'pointing' gesture, as well as paying extremely close attention to human eye movements for the same purpose. (Though I think my cat has picked up this skill too, heh.) There is a hormone called Oxytocin, excreted by the hypothalamus and called the 'love hormone' or 'trust hormone', produced in the brain during childbirth and breast-feeding. Turns out that when petting a dog, both the human AND the dog produce this hormone. What does that tell you? This co-evolution is a beautiful mystery. Kukkuripa would understand.
Makes you wonder how, after thousands of years of mutual service, humans can be so fucked up and blind as to abuse such sentient friends. It's like the multi-generational symbiosis between the dolphins and the fishermen of Laguna, Brazil (check it out). Don't even get me started on pigs ("smarter than dogs") and a whole bunch of other 'food animals' (question: is someone who 'grows' 10 million chickens a "farmer"??!). How Asians could even consider eating dogs is so beyond the pale I can't even begin...And the horrid treatment and attitude in Muslim countries too is unbelievable. There ARE a whole shitload of 'useless eaters' and I can't even get up a shred of compassion for them. I mean, last week 1000 people in UK surrounded a research beagle breeding facility and started passing dogs over the fence to friends who stuffed them in their jackets and sped off.
On a closing note, there are bills pending in 25 states (US) that seek to publicly ID animal abusers just like sex offenders, and establish online registries. It's about time.

OK....video time! I love kora, maybe next life....