Keith Cleversley and His Pea Brain

Archive for the ‘On Being Human’ Category

In simple terms; quantum physics states that we cannot predict the outcome of any single quantum event.  A favorite example is the photon that bounces off a reflector 95% of the time, but decides, completely randomly, 5% of the time, to go right through it, or to not go through it at all.  This means, without needing to twist the facts even slightly, that the underlying fabric of our material world is in a continual state of sheer, utter, unpredictability down to an atomic level, and especially at an atomic level. There are countless billions of atomic events occurring within every moment, all of which are predictable only in a statistically significant way, but never with the knowledge of the outcome of any one of those events. Humans, holding this form as humans, exist only because enough quantum events occur in our favor, tenuously holding these carbon-based frames together.

In other words, we, as humans, are somewhat insulated from this unpredictability (such as an atom randomly deciding to go through a reflector rather than bounce off of it), because we are composed of more than enough atoms to create a statistical probability that is so reliable, it can hold form as a solid object such as a human being indefinitely. But the fact still remains that we are really nothing more than the statistical, but completely unknowable and unpredictable result of the actions of these atoms.

Quantum mechanics can show a pattern over time, but each event that makes up this pattern is completely unpredictable and unknowable. More interesting, though, is that this conclusion about atomic events being unknowable is not a result of a lack of preciseness in any of our measuring equipment or because of gaps in our knowledge pertaining to these events; we can measure any event at an atomic level precisely, but the event itself can never be predicted with 100% accuracy.

Therefore, the concept of time being non-linear couldn’t make any sense in terms of the world we are able to observe now, at least in an absolute sense. Why? – Because the future is unknowable due to the unknowable outcomes of atomic events. The best we can hope for is a statistically possible future, or a series of future events that are nothing more than a set of probabilities.

To further complicate the issue, time changes depending on our position in time and space when we observe it, and as mass grows to infinity at the speed of light, time also comes to a crawl, making it impossible to travel faster than the speed of light in these forms. Even if the theoretical speed of light barrier could be broken, it is agreed that our space traveler wouldn’t suddenly be catapulted into the future; they would instead experience the reversal of time, growing younger as they continued their journey through the universe.

So, an external, all-knowing god bound by physics or quantum mechanics would only be able to see every one of the potential timelines that may come into being the exact moment a particular outcome to a random atomic event occurs, making the predicting an event past the present moment, nothing more than an informed guess.

To me, this unpredictability is humans witnessing the mind of this god at work.

My god does his/her work within the unpredictability of quantum mechanics and quantum events. Since there is no way for us to predict with any precision whatsoever, what the outcome of a single event might be, there is vast room for endless tinkering, endless experimentation if this god, this cosmic intelligence, were not bound by the laws of physics that we, in these carbon-based frames are bound to.

This is a lovely thought, and makes god more alive than ever in my fanatically skeptical mind. I am constantly seeking answers, and despite my desire for a Nisargadatta freedom from desire, this body, this mind, and this spirit desires. I like desire; it brings me untold joy, and lets me experience this existence as fully as I feel I am able to, the short time I am here.

This musing was an addendum to a question that asked me if DARWIN KILLED GOD.

In the summer of 1991, I was in my final week of recording what would become ‘Hit to Death in the Future Head’ by the Flaming Lips. It was a dream come true on so many levels and in so many ways. On a family estate sustained through generations of dairy farmers, an only son named Rees broke from tradition a few years earlier, and converted his family’s livelihood into a recording studio. This middle-of-nowhere studio came complete with a silo transformed into a recording booth, a wrap-around porch wired for sound, and a tree swing promising to help soothe the soul of anyone who perched on its welcoming hand-carved seat.

The early morning air never failed to intoxicate me, so I would often sit in the grass reading before the day’s recording session began. This helped to clear my mind of everything except the music we were making; the music I felt incredibly privileged to be a part of. Although something inside me knew that life couldn’t get any better, I was interminably discontented with myself and the world around me, often wondering what it might take to find the inner peace that eluded me this far in my young life.

As I soaked in the summer breeze, two men approached me. In that moment, I decided that they were refrigerator repair men. It seemed logical enough; nothing else made sense as to why these two men would be approaching me in the way they were.

‘Are you Keith Cleversley?’ they queried.

‘Yeah, why?’ I replied, as I wondered how or why they knew my name.

‘You’re being charged with 4 counts of a Class 1 Felony, each which carried a maximum of 8 years in Federal Prison,’ they said.

They then informed me that if I tried to run, they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot me ‘in my tracks.’ And, as if I needed some extra reassurance that they weren’t kidding about that particular point, man number two turned slightly sideways to reveal a pistol holstered on his hip.

Each man grabbed an arm, and in a single, orchestrated movement, they pushed my body and face to the ground. A leather belt was then wrapped around my waist, as my arms were pulled behind me, locking my wrists to handcuffs that were attached to the belt. Then, my calves were bound as another belt was wrapped around my ankles. Those handcuffs were then clamped to the handcuffs on my hands, hogtieing me.

Next, the men told me that I had exactly three minutes to yell for someone to gather a few of my personal belongings. Wayne Coyne from the Flaming Lips was the only one awake this early, and came running out of the farmhouse tossing cigarettes at me, telling me that they were worth their weight in gold on the ‘inside’. He also said; ‘Deny everything, no matter what!’

This offered me solace and hope in the middle of a situation that hadn’t yet begun to register as real. Any moment, I was certain I was going to wake to my alarm, or my cat jumping onto me, or anything that would take me away from this moment.

Picking me up by my handcuffs, I was thrown face-down into the back seat of an unmarked sedan, as the two men reiterated their intent to shoot me if I so much as thought about trying to escape. As we sped off, Wayne continued to yell; ‘Deny everything, deny everything, no matter what, deny everything!’

Although I couldn’t see the speedometer, our cross-state trek ensued at speeds far exceeding speed limits. On the way, I was subjected to a series of threats, promises of harsh treatment, descriptions of a brand new life in prison, as well as queries about whether or not I believed in Jesus Christ. A typical 9 hour drive took less than 5 hours, as we sped towards a county jail in Dunkirk, NY, the armpit of the state, and I still couldn’t believe this was real.

Once we arrived, I was stripped, searched, fingerprinted, and placed into a holding cell for non-violent criminals. (It occurred to me that I had not been read my rights, but simultaneously realized that no one would ever care.) This ‘community’ cell had nine beds for nine criminals, and I was prisoner number eleven.

I received a plastic coated mattress about an inch or two thick, a blanket too short to cover me, and a pair of rubber thongs. My only possessions, besides that, were a pen, a legal pad, and a book I had been reading at the time of my arrest; all of which were now precious commodities I was ready to defend at any cost. For some reason, two prisoners had their mattresses on the floor, so I was given a top bunk, second in from the cell door.

I tried to get settled into my surroundings, but reality quietly crept into my bed with me in some recent moment when I wasn’t paying attention. No one was particularly interested to hear about me or why I was there; they instead seemed to be waiting for me to reveal myself through my own words or gestures. I decided the best thing to do for now was to stay as unobtrusive as possible, and simply observe.

Surveying my surroundings, the social structure of the prisoners grew vividly clear. My mind felt razor-sharp as every nuance, every word, and every gesture was catalogued. In a short while, I knew who the top man on the totem pole was, and although it sounds slightly silly to write this now; my only hope, in that moment, was that I wouldn’t be the new man on the bottom of the totem pole.

To my left; the picnic table, toilet, and the shower. The picnic table was usually a flurry of activity; the social center of the cell, so I paid strict attention. ‘Spades’ was the only game that was played, and the biggest, loudest man in the cell also happened to NOT be the Spades Champion. In fact, there were names scratched into the cement wall honoring all the past Spades Champions, and Merlo (the biggest, loudest man in the cell) has always wanted his name etched into the wall, but had yet to achieve such an honor.

Knowing little about this card game, I made my way to the outer edge of the table and watched. And I watched and I watched and I watched. Of the many gifts I have been given in this life, being an extremely fast learner was the one I was most grateful for in those moments. I found that by watching games, I was able to not only learn the mechanics, but I could see distinct patterns in the unique playing styles of the three top players. This, I thought to myself, could come in extremely handy when the time came.

Spades seemed like a simple enough game, yet these men played it with a passion I have seen matched only in our pastor’s sermon when he discovered that the wine for the evening’s Mass had been pilfered by ‘an evil-doer that Jesus himself had surely witnessed.’ Since Spades is a partner-based game, I thought that the key to my safety in this cell might just lie within my ability to play this game better than almost anyone else here, especially if I could manage to get partnered with Merlo.

After many hours of watching, I was asked to join, but was first partnered with Fran; the cell’s punching bag. Whatever my role ended up being in this jail cell, I never wanted it to be what Fran’s role was, and I knew this was my test. Merlo decided to sit this one out, but he didn’t move from the edge of the picnic table.

To everyone’s surprise, Fran and I won our first game. And then; our second, and third. After just the third game, Merlo decided that I was going to be his Spades partner. Within a number of games, carefully structured in the form of a Spades Tournament, Merlo had his dream being able to etch his name on the cell wall, and I no longer had to worry about getting shit from anyone in the cell ever again.

So, here I was, put into jail for something I didn’t do, facing the possibility of 24 years in prison, still not quite certain that I wouldn’t wake up any minute. As I looked at the small spaces between the end of the mattresses and the edges of the bunk frames, a couple of inmates had designed miniature shrines from pictures, old rosaries, notes from home, and decks of cards. I guessed that this reflected those who had been here the longest; as each man clutched the only tangible evidence they had left of an outside world.

Through the cell I could see a black and white television, which sputtered every few minutes, never getting a minute’s rest. A commercial for a new kind of burger flitted across the screen, insisting that I “come in and try one today.’ Suddenly, a vegetarian, I dreamed of possessing the freedom to walk out my front door, to look up to the sky, walk down my street, and then, if I chose, walk into the nearest Burger King, and order that burger.

If I chose to do so, I could buy fries instead and eat them on the curb, or in the park, or back in my own home; it was really nothing more than a matter of what most struck my fancy. And in this simple moment, my scale for ‘How Bad Things Could Get’ changed dramatically, and forever. I am still grateful to this day for that moment.

Anyway, the shock from the day’s events still hadn’t worn off as I sat in a daze on my bed. This commercial, this ridiculous commercial had made me acutely aware of the incredible value of what I used to consider the “insignificant”. What I wouldn’t have done for the privilege of ironing every piece of clothing I owned, to take out last months garbage, defrost the freezer, or scrub my floors with a toothbrush. A new awakening immersed the world around me, as the joy of watching a sunset held entirely new depths of meaning.

For the first time in my life, I was comfortable in my existence and in my thoughts. I believed I knew what it meant to be alive, in a world where so few took the time to unravel themselves from their lives, even for a moment, to see beyond self-constructed blinders. My mind opened, and a rush of emotion took hold of me. What I had perceived as Earth shattering problems, dissolved before me and disappeared. My life, eternally wrought with dissatisfaction and frustration, found new life, and a new hope that this internal torture may have finally come to an end.

I kept my mind occupied with thoughts of how joyous life would be once all this was resolved. I guessed that it wasn’t too different than what inmates thought about in order to help maintain their sanity, especially when one was rotting in this cell, year after year, feeling their youth turn to maturity, and then to old age.

Life is so freakin’ short as it is, and facing 24 years in prison made me realize how short it could actually be. Maybe as a means of self-defense and self-preservation, thoughts of death only seem to loom off in the distance for most of us; it’s something that happens to other people, or really has little effect in our own lives. But here, death had purchased advance tickets, eagerly awaiting the future, while I steeped in fear of not knowing what lay ahead.

In some strange way, though, the daily routine began to feel safe and comfortable; maybe even predictable. There was a great deal of time to think each day (too much time), but in that, was a freedom. I could write and contemplate as much as I wanted. Meals were provided several times a day. One could buy extras from the ‘commissary’, such as instant soups, personal items, fruit, candy, and magazines, to help make one’s day a little more pleasant.

Inside, I felt as though there was a sense of community; we were all united by one of the single-most uniting factors; our lack of freedom. I saw things I would never see again, and some small part of me will always miss that world, although I swore to myself I would never go to jail ever again.

In the end, I was grateful to everyone; to the person who set me up, to the cops who did so little investigative work and were so excited to have such a ‘high profile’ case in their small backwater town, that they got themselves a ‘secret indictment’ from the government, allowing them to bypass the ‘indictment’ stage (a stage even O.J. Simpson was granted every single time he was accused of something). I was grateful to the characters in my cell, who treated me with the same respect I gave them, and who were also deeply grateful that I brought cigarettes to pass out in hopes of making friends, to the judge, who quietly waited for everyone to leave the courtroom, before he called me to the front, apologized, waived all fees, and sent me on my way, after 11 days of incarceration, armed with a lifetime of perspective.

Supposedly, survival instincts are hardwired into the deepest recesses of our brains; into the actual brain stem itself, which extends into the hypothalamus. They can often override all other functions, even when a person has fallen unconscious; the survival instinct can still save a person from imminent death.

My question is WHY does life have such a propensity towards life? WHY do non-self aware creatures go so far as to often fight to the death for the right to propagate? Write off our instinct for survival as a way for us humans to gain immortality, but what about a plant or a gazelle or a cat? If one wants to argue that it’s because “the conditions for life were there”, it still doesn’t answer the question as to WHY life has such a passion to survive, just because the conditions were there for it. I want to find some logical explanation as to WHY virtually every living species has, as its strongest desire, to live.

If there was no desire to live, then there would be no life, so doesn’t this almost have to indicate that life itself is an intelligence, an organism on a macrocosmic level, which is separate from the biochemical structures of living creatures? If these were nothing more than a series of chemical reactions driving every plant and creature, then why would they occur in the first place, why would they continue to occur, and why would so many different species have evolved and enveloped practically every corner of the entire planet?

From a fanatical skeptic: My only logical conclusion is that there is some sort of intelligence behind life itself.

I have no desire whatsoever to propagate; if we were to have a child, it would be for the experience of raising a child and not to further the species. Also, even though being in this carbon-based frame gives me all of the tangible Earthly delights that go with it, such as the ability to touch and taste and smell, I often ache to be what I was before I entered this body. If I were faced with death, I am not quite certain that I would fight it; ever since I have felt that I have touched the hand of the Divine, I miss that place that I have been to a thousand times; the place I know whenever I am not in this rickety, but deliciously enjoyable frame.

I don’t mean any of this in a depressing, clinical way, just as someone who can’t find a logical reason why even plants seem to “want” to survive, many of which have developed methods of communicating danger to other plants in their area when the need arises.

If anyone can point me to anywhere that offers possible explanations or theories about WHY life has such an intense desire for life, I am eternally curious.

Moments transform in dazzling arrays, as music liquefies and pours its deliciousness into me and through me. Cascading sheets of giggles wash over me like sheets of rain pummeling a captive landscape that is unable to writhe away and is powerless to the onslaught. Such rapture dances sumptuous, delicate lines between mad frustration, as wave upon wave transforms any thought into another cascading sheet that glitters and teeters on each passing moment, waiting for only a second, before crashing into pure joy; unbridled and passionate. Surrender is my only option, but as I contemplate the thought, the word ‘surrender’ etches itself infinitely in neon and washes over me in dazzling array.

Unrelenting in its barrage, I can do nothing but simply be in this moment.

Yet in these moments, I want to hammer my head into the concrete, I want to scream so loudly that my throat tears into a million burning pieces, I want to shred apart every last remnant of a body, and destroy every last cell that binds me to this sensation. And it’s not a desire for the pain or the gore of any of it, but only to ease the joyous, agonizing intensity that threatens to destroy any fleck of sanity that might remain. There is no break, not even for a moment, as she works her way through me, utterly and completely, changing every breath, every thought, every flicker into something tangible and unrelenting.

And it is in these moments that I also feel so completely, utterly, and vividly alive. If I weren’t certain a moment before, the passion for the complete destruction of my own body combined with the simultaneous passion for the ceasing of the onslaught bursting through every seam of my being, screams unceasingly through me, glowing and tittering once more into a sheet perfectly shaped to fit the apparatus of my own design.

Still unrelenting in its barrage, I can still do nothing but simply be in this moment.

Contemplation gets me nowhere, only a reaffirmation of that which I already know to be true. She beckons me again, promising gentler waves, but the moment I agree, I am plummeted into equally intense sheets of energy that crash over me that grow faces that giggle and purr and sputter and tick. Do I lie down quietly or do I run through the streets screaming for someone, anyone to wake up from the dream? Such desire gets me nowhere and the world is left unchanged. All I can do is leave my beacon, clear in its intent, unchanging in its design, lit brightly, as I simply surrender, burn myself alive, and wonder.

If only I could remember that when I look at the trees, wild in blossom, I am looking at my own origin dancing in pure delight. If only I could remember that in the moments I stop seeking, are the only moments I am truly alive. For now, I take solace in the knowledge that none of this exists as anything more than a thought of something I once was, while I turn my face to the sky and wait for salvation.

Yet, none of this compares to My Darkest Moments or me as Prisoner #11.

We all have our dark moments, and as Artuad says; “Someone who doesn’t know depression, who has never felt the soul encroached upon the body, invaded by its weakness, must go beneath the surface, one must look at the underside; one must lose the ability to move, or hope or believe, in order to observe at all.”

For me, I feel so alone in these thoughts so often. I have many gifts and a wildly overactive brain that gets me about 4-5 hours of sleep a night. With that, I often grow weary of “dumbing myself down” to allow me to relate to particular people who, no matter how hard I try, never feed me the way I need to be fed. I have been given many gifts, these gifts of the mind, yet of what use are they to me when they can bring me such pain? This self-constructed prison often tortures my every conscious moment; in the mornings, I have to arise the second I wake to my consciousness, to prevent the ensuing torture that my brain thrusts upon me mercilessly. The thoughts themselves are less relevant than the emotions they stir; they are bent on filling me only with anxiety over imaginary foes, such as failed dreams, time passing so quickly, fears of the future, and anything else it can manage to throw at me.

When the months turn cold, this prison grows exponentially. In the sunshine, I am free to roam around on foot, on my bike, or with my top down, on the beach, in the forest, or wherever I can connect with the lush beauty that Mother Nature shares with me. But in the cold, I shiver and shake inside these walls, doing my best to while away the months until the sun grows warm once again.

I have built a world here that is entrenched with things I don’t want to let go of; material possessions that help me to create my art and enjoy my world, such as my paint, canvases, my musical instruments, my scuba gear for diving, and my flight gear for flying. My business is here, and it creates the illusion of comfort and freedom, yet I am tied to it like I’ve been tied to nothing else. And this year, this cold has left me more trepid than usual. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I escaped it two years ago; I ran off to this island to find that which I was missing, yet found only a tropical paradise, the place of my dreams, yet absent of even a shred of solace.

We all think we have so much time, that growing old is such a distant occurrence somewhere in a distant future, maybe something that we will find a way to outsmart, or to trick, or to meditate away, but no one has ever escaped. These frames slow down, they wrinkle, they wither away and die, and there’s nothing any of us can do about it.

If one speaks of these or writes about them, most of your audience is lost. You are to dark, or obsessed with death, or too intense to deal with, so you are relegated to the dark corners of our thoughts, to brood silently, and alone. Every day we’re all equally marching towards death at an alarming rate, yet no on ever speaks about it. No one ever talks about this one universal experience we all share; the one that binds us all together in this delicious dance, in these fragile frames, for these brief moments.

People’s fear is what keeps them from experiencing it, but for me, it’s what drives me to live.

I have experienced emotions with my Beloved that makes language meaningless and impotent in its ability to describe even a fraction of what I feel. Before I met the love of my life, we had both forged such tangible progress in our mutual spiritual evolutions, spinning in our respective universes, unattached, enjoying the moments that flitted in and out of our vision simply because neither of us knew any other choice. Our worlds were of our own creation, and within them, we found joy.

That, I believe, is a prerequisite for knowing ‘true love’ when it finds its way to you.

But I think most are too fearful, too dishonest with the world around them and especially with themselves to know the space in which true love can flourish in ways we could never imagine until we find ourselves experiencing them. People are usually too busy applying their own biases, desires, and filters to what they believe a deeply loving and committed relationship should look like and feel like, to allow something as beautiful as a deeply loving, committed, and lifelong relationship to materialize.

In my and my Beloved’s world, the very act of freeing each other to be all we can be could possibly be enough.  But when we love each other for exactly who the other is while embracing and encouraging each other to shine as brightly as we can as well; is integral understanding what it means to know true love. It’s such an undeniable, passionate connection that compels me to be more than I thought I could be on my own, and it inspires me to be everything my partner wishes for.

I’ve never wanted to allow so much space for my partner to be exactly who they are, I’ve never found my partner’s quirks and unique habits so endearing, and seeing this reaction in myself is one of the truest indicators of how much this love means to me. I find myself with a deep desire to see her happy, truly happy in her life and her world, and I want to do nothing that would impede her in any way whatsoever, even if it meant her not having me in her life.

I know, beyond any shadow of any doubt, that I would never betray my partner, and I know the same is true for her. That alone, is an incredibly precious gift that allows each of us to tuck our fears away, safely hidden in each other’s arms, freeing both of us to seek joy in our lives and in each other. This also frees us to be completely open and honest with each other, regardless of circumstance, while allowing us to argue without fear; one of the greatest gifts we can give each other.

And it also is because of these moments where the world seems so perfect and complete, that I want to scream so loudly that my throat tears into a million burning pieces, or shred apart every last remnant of this body, destroying every last cell that binds me to this sensation. With it comes a joyous, agonizing intensity that threatens to dissolve any fleck of lucidity that might remain. In that is the excruciatingly intense desire to somehow let everyone know that these moments exist; that they are real beyond their wildest imaginings, that they are not only palpable, but that, as Rumi said; ‘just one breath from this lover truly could scatter this insignificant universe like grains of sand.’

And all this is truly what I dream of knowing for myself with another.

In the few moments I can steal away, I find such bliss. Lushness abounds all around me, and senses ooze like sumptuous fruits in a vibrant garden of eternal deliciousness. The sun explodes into a million juicy treats waiting to be plucked, tasted, and returned to their dance in sweet array. Swept away, as delicate embrace sheds its skin, I’m teased by the vastness of what I see.  She’s everywhere, wrapping herself imperceptibly into every pore, invading with a tangible warmth and tenderness that seethes with anticipation.

Such sweet embrace, such rare moments, such clarity, such perfection, how could it be anything but the truth of all that is and could be?  In this, my desire always remains the same; to find those who resonate with all that life reveals, to find expression through mutual revelation of all I hope to be true, to help awaken others as I was awakened to a dream that is larger than any of us have ever imagined or have simply forgotten. Wrapped in such humanness, we have the power to reach beyond, to share that which is real, to love and to be loved with complete surrender.

Isn’t this all anyone ever wants when all falls to nothing?

Always aware that we have such a brief moment to breathe in this world and all it has to offer, I’m even more aware of how many forget to revel in simply being alive, as I watch so many get caught up in the dramas of their daily lives.  I always need to remember to take a minute to truly enjoy a sunrise, to feel a cool breeze blow across my skin, to soak in the scent and taste of a favorite food, or to see the real beauty in a piece of art or an idea that I wished I had created, and so on.

I say this often, but I know what it is to have my dreams come true. This is what drives my desire to find a way to let others know this same joy.  But, I never seem to come up with a suitable answer.

In my mind, if I can touch others in the same way that I have been touched, through the music I create, the photos I take, the words I write, or by simply being exactly who I am, by shining as brightly as I can as often as possible; then, in my small way, I feel have added to the ‘ripple effect’, making a positive impact on the world, perhaps leaving it ever so slightly better when I leave it than when I entered it bloody and screaming.

And this blog is part of that beacon equally as it’s a way to make my internal realities external. Truly, I am unaffected by what people say about this or me.  Why?  I know true joy, I’m always as honest with myself as I know how to be, which frees me to explore and enjoy the world around me in as many ways as I can imagine to do it. I am not afraid of failure (I know it well), and instead choose to live my life so that when I’m on my deathbed, I don’t ever find myself saying;

“What if i would have just tried…?”

So, what’s my point? – I don’t really have one.  This blog is simply is my beacon, honest in its design, obvious in its intent, hoping for nothing more than to know that others know of such rare treats. This is why I am, why I still am, and what will always be my purpose and intent.

Feel free to send any comments, questions, or whatever to keith at cleversley dot com.

CRITICAL BREAKTHROUGH EXPERIENCE:

I became the center of a consciousness that no longer had anything to do with a body.  A vibrant, blissful energy engulfed me, melting the me I knew away, freeing my consciousness to unfold and expand into a place that felt like home; a place I had been to a thousand times before.  This “place” had nothing whatsoever to do with the material world I had known, yet it was intimately familiar.  There, corporeal reality is meaningless; there were only of layers of consciousness that unfolded more deeply the more I relaxed and simply let go.

It’s a vivid sensation of non-locality and of constant expansion.  I’m all places at once and see with eyes that have nothing to do with my physical eyes.  It’s a place of pure energy, flowing, cascading, constantly moving and all-enveloping. Even if fear creeps in, I discovered that embracing it transforms the fear into even more tangible and expansive layers of consciousness. Energies all around me comfort me, telling me that they’re always there, that this is a beautiful, safe, and loving place; a place I have always known, have always been a part of, and I placed even I, this barely self-aware monkey, has helped create.

The interconnectedness of all conscious beings; plant, animal, fungi, energy, or other becomes vividly and ineffably clear.  In this non-body state, in the place I call the Void, nothing and no one could ever convince me that I have done anything less than touch the hand of the Divine.  Within that, the underlying message never changes: To live my life as fully and honestly as I can while shining as brightly as I can, never forgetting that we all truly are connected.

This profoundly religious experience is one that I can repeat whenever I take the time and effort to enter that state of deep meditation with my plant ally; Salvia divinorum. Finding this sacred altered state of consciousness took immense respect, practice, discipline, as well as an immense amount of patience for me.  But now, as soon as I reach that deeply meditative state, the moment I introduce Salvia to it, I’m instantly released into that same non-body state of pure energy, love, and joy that no one could ever convince me is anything other than direct contact with the Sacred, with my own Creator, with the origin of the Universe itself, and my reconnection to all that I have forgotten or has been indoctrinated out of me.

To describe the sensations in a physical sense: I sometimes feel as though I consist of thin, crystal-like layers that constantly radiate outward from me like pages flipping in a book, as everything gently pulsates and moves through a liquid space I can effortlessly breathe within.  Accompanying that is the the ability to concentrate on one or all of these expanding points simultaneously as the entire space I’m in constantly expands outwards, freeing me to be absolutely anywhere within it and at any point in linear time.

Tangible energy envelops my thoughts and bathes them in something that I forget is ALWAYS there. This place of knowing is only a place of remembering. Everything that seemed relevant in my material reality, if even the most awake and self-aware “I” thought was relevant, becomes completely irrelevant. No judgment passes; it simply couldn’t. In this moment, my human frame exists solely for its ability to connect with my Divine and to share the experience of a carbon-based frame that can only experience time as linear.

This is a joyous dance; I’m ecstatic to have found my home once again while still in this fragile human frame. Every connection discovered as a human is another chance for the Divine to witness itself, with thoughts so tangible, I feel they can equally create and destroy everything that they have imagined to be. And, just when I think I know, I forget. Just when I think the words have come, they disappear. This is the place I hope everyone knows, the place I wish everyone knew, this is the place I wish words could fully explain.  I want everyone to know this place as intimately as I have known it because to me, it’s a place of true love, of infinite wisdom, of endless patience, as well as a never-changing and infinitely changing Everything.

I’m convinced that we all have this power inside us; it’s just been indoctrinated, beaten, or “educated” out of us.  Most of us have been led to believe that we’re far less than all we are.  I know God.  I feel I know God more intimately than many who claim to know God.  But, I also believe that we all have the same gift buried deep within our genetic coding, and that entheogens, teacher plants, and psychedelics help us to unlock that potential when approached and treated with the sacred respect they require.

So deeply aware that I’ve been given a rare opportunity to feel life at its deepest, to feel the soul encroached upon the body, to sometimes be awash with emotion so intense that it threatens to wash me away, while bursting with such radiance that, in those moments, that my only option are tears that threaten to shake me as if the Earth itself was crying through me, I wake up every day feeling like the luckiest person alive.  The tears are neither sadness nor joy, but simply because I know that such beauty and passion can exist, because I know that witnessing such depths where we are nothing less than completely alive, is truly possible.

I have already soaked in so much life and know what it is to have my dreams come true, while tasting that which many are unaware, living several lifetimes in just this one. Vividly aware that we have such a brief moment in these wondrous frames, I see that so many forget to step out of the moment, to revel in the lushness of life as it unfolds before us, even myself. 

I often wish I could remember those moments exactly as they are, tucking each one of them into my pocket for passionless or stressful days, whether it’s from a warm breeze, a tender moment, or the things that remind me that these places do really exist.  To see that life is not an unfolding career or the generation of more and more and more money is an unparalleled treasure; to realize that those moments when we are completely naked before that which we desire most is a gift beyond compare.  I revel absolutely and completely in each one of these moments as often as I am able, wrapping myself in their soft glow, knowing, without question, what being alive truly means. And it is these very moments that are the root of any stress I have in my life.

When the music industry started to fold two years ago, I realized that records with hundred thousand dollar budgets were going to disappear, and I also realized that I would have to find a different way to support the life which I had become so accustomed to living.  There was never a day when I didn’t wake up feeling like one of the most blessed people on the planet; I have never known what it’s like to work for anyone else, and have more time to envelop myself with whatever experiences I can imagine in each moment than most humans get in an entire lifetime.  And that is what I was most fearful of losing.

To know these moments so intimately, but then to suddenly not know if another one will ever come because of personal circumstance, was an inexplicably terrifying place to be.  In that place of knowing, I also became very accustomed to suddenly having more money than I knew what do with, as well as interviews, trips in corporate jets, hundreds of thousands of records being sold with my name on them, with many in the alternative rock community wanting to know me or have me work with them…my ego-self started to shine so brightly, that my true self became buried under shimmering lights, and the joy of others knowing my name.

But for me, the monetary rewards didn’t buy me an addiction to money itself, it brought me time and it bought me freedom to do the things I wished to so most in my life.  It bought me time to pursue my spiritual and creative passions freely and with reckless abandon.  It bought me the kind of organic foods that I feel are the least I can do for a body that is able to keep up with my endless and boundless desire and energy to ingest as much as I possibly can while I am here.  It bought me far away places I always longed to see, and so much more.

Then, an epiphany found its way to me and both the energies that revealed themselves to me, as well as the energy that revealed itself to me, changed my life forever.  With it brought an opportunity that had been predicted by others I deeply respect, but didn’t believe because I could never have imagined it coming:  “Rock producer turned ethnobotanist, learning to fly so he can meet with indigenous cultures deep in the rainforests, bringing entheogens and sacred plants back with him, to spread to as many as he was able, trying to share the very things that made him realize that connection with one’s own personal Divine is not only possible, but available to any who look into themselves deeply enough.”

I then saw it turn into a new business that began to grow into something that would bring me more things in different ways than the music industry ever could.  That was only 23 months ago; in April of 2005, it’ll only have been two years ago. 

From just an idea, I created something that is far more than I ever imagined, bringing me “security” unlike I had ever known.  I now had “business models”, “suppliers”, “employees”, and something I had never known; a “customer base”.  And as it blossomed last year, I realized that no longer did I have to worry about whether I was going to be “famous” tomorrow, no longer did I have to worry about being the “Hot young producer of the 90′s”, and I didn’t have to worry about whether some bean counter in a suit would want me to produce the next band that his job was depending on.  It was a freedom unlike anything I had ever known, and I have not stopped reveling in it and being grateful for it.

As a result, I immediately decided to do something I always dreamed of doing; learning how to fly.  I didn’t care that it usually takes 1-2 years to become a private pilot; in the spring of 2004, I started my training and got my pilot’s license in September of 2004, in just six months.  I took 4-5 days out of my life every week to do this and the shop fell behind, but I didn’t care.  I knew I could devote months to the shop after I accomplished my goal of becoming a pilot.
 
And that brings me to this present moment, where this world of internet marketing and retail is still very new to me.  Owning a business, dealing with competition, having employees, finding suppliers, becoming an importer, trying to do all the things I need to do to not be a target for the DEA, the FDA, the Federal Government and their illustrious Customs officers, getting business insurance, programming shopping carts, websites, creating product lines and the packaging for them, buying a kava kava farm, finding a business partner”¦these are all things I have never known until very recently, and even though I try to view it as a fun challenge, there is stress that comes with it that no one can know unless they were in it themselves.

At times, I feel that there is no escape from the stress, that it comes with the territory, and that the only defense is realizing that it’s only a difference in a state of mind when facing it and dealing with it.  And I can know these things, but knowledge does not equal an instantaneous change in action.  It takes time.

So, as things have calmed down into a quiet roar, I can feel the lushness of life enveloping me once again.  My passion for the sheer joy of being alive has never left, but has been hanging gently inside my soul, crouching in the corner, dreaming, waiting, dripping courage just outside my reach, wearing only my wishes and desires for the time I could see them again.  The surface behind my passion has always been seamless, as if it didn’t come through me, but grew out of me, or seeped through the floor, caught between the thickness, sticking like honey, crisscrossing lines of the vast expanses melting into the mix.

And today, I am once again delirious from sleeplessness, as my thoughts swirl amidst a multitude of visions and images, all perched daintily throughout my consciousness, as they peek eagerly at each other.  They swoop down and gather in sweet abundance in front of me, like tendrils on an octopus spinning through the air as they grab hold of the sun and melt inside it, only to find life hiding out in my forgotten world.  It brims with molten flecks of gold that spatter all around me in a shower of light, glistening with promise of things I always knew, and know that I will know again, but I wait patiently, because all it takes is time. 

As it often has in the past, life abounds, and dances with reckless abandon, and becomes more vivid with each new day.  But it is a slow journey from the whirring machinery that I have constructed around me, and to know that I still seek escape while learning to feed the machinery from a distance, to me, is an accomplishment in itself.

No. it hasn’t been easy, and I have probably aged several years in just a single year, but I have enough life in me for many lifetimes, and have now created a pathway that enables not only myself, but those around me to enjoy things that they may never have had the chance to enjoy if I hadn’t worked with such sheer determination and tireless effort as I have over the past two years.

I live a life many don’t know because they have not completely made their own way in their lives as I have; many instead rely on others’ pathways rather than creating their own.  Creating and maintaining one’s own pathway at the level I have done takes an enormous amount of work and time that is impossible to describe.

I didn’t write this to explain or justify myself, but more to remind myself how different my life has become in such a small amount of time.  Where almost everyone else I know from the music industry has given up on their dream, I have forged a new one in what is really a few short months, and I’ve been able to drench myself in life in the ways I love most once again.  I am also creating a future that is as “secure” as it can be, while taking the time to taste the delectable treats the sprawl before me in such abundance as they present themselves to me, realizing that each one of these moments could surely be my last. 

Now, my greatest fear is not being able to drench myself in all I want to drench myself with before time runs out.  If I died in this moment, I would die completely happy and content, feeling as though I didn’t waste any of my moments, and lived them to the best of my ability as they raced past me in such dizzying and dazzling array.  I think to myself that surely there must be a way to soak in more; I don’t want to waste the vast gifts I have been given, and want to find a way to help others find their dreams as well, to help them realize that life is for living, for reveling, for gorging ourselves in the sensuous treats that make me feel so utterly alive.

But I can only shine as brightly as I can in this moment, and I feel that I shine quite brightly indeed.