Transmutation

FuturePeak, Boulder Creek, CA July 2018

Dancing alone, wide, green eyes gazing up

starry, wondrous sky, expanding;

Twirling around, counter-clockwise motion, 

arms grounding, extended hands,

compassionate Universe,

transforming Ego,

longing for flight—

Heaven 

Heightening True Love to raise like seeds,

blown from trees, afloat, featherlight,

lifting above suffering

Earth’s dreamscape,

Where separations enmesh;

Fear evaporates like intense

summer storm, quickly dissipating into

atmospheric tranquility

You, guiding your feet to meet me,

dancing your own, unique rhythm, 

vibrational ascension,

holding each timeless moment

freedom for all beings;

Composing creations, interwoven like Tabriz and Kashan,

collaborative, masterful designs—

bliss and peace 

Fly weightless, infinitely deep,

high above temporal clouds, 

obscuring neither pure mind nor soul;

contented abandonment of aloneness,

intermingling independent movement;

spinning clear light, resonating,

strumming heart strings— 

One Song

  

Ashes, Ashes, All Fall Down

I have seen where the wolf has slept by the silver stream. 

I can tell by the mark he left you were in his dream. 

Ah, child of countless trees. 

Ah, child of boundless seas. 

What you are, what you're meant to be. 

Speaks his name, though you were born to me..." 

-John Perry Barlow, Cassidy

    In early 2008, I visited Daniel Kottke at his home in Palo Alto, California. He is a computer engineering friend who happens to play piano and is a huge fan of the Grateful Dead, so we went through a bunch of songs just singing and having a great time. He shared with me that he'd occasionally hang out with poet, writer, former Grateful Dead lyricist, and co-founder of the Electronic Frontier Foundation, John Perry Barlow. Barlow would come over and he'd play Dead songs on his piano while singing and picking Barlow's brain about specific song lyrics or stories behind songs. Of course, to someone like me who loves singing Dead tunes, what Daniel told me was an absolute dream come true. 

     A year later, on Saturday, September 26, 2009, my good friend, Fürgen and I attended the Horizons: Perspectives on Psychedelics Conference, which was being hosted by our friend, Neal, held at the Lombardo-Romanesque style Judson Memorial Church in New York City. The church is situated near NYU and across from Washington Square Park, a park famous for its 77-foot tall marble arch constructed, originally, in wood and plaster to celebrate the centennial of George Washington's inauguration. It's a lively place where people go to play chess, feed squirrels, perform art and music, teach their kids to ride bikes, read by the fountains, and so much more. 

     While standing near the large pillars toward the right front side of the church, I saw a figure walk into the hall, kind of limping, wearing all black, and I could see the heel of a cowboy boot. The figure stood near a podium that had been near the rear center of the room. I squinted and knew right away, it was Barlow. I hurriedly skated over to him, trying not to look like I was running (my mind already engaged in a 40 yard dash), and not having any idea what I was going to say.

     "Holy shit!" I said, as I realized how utterly embarrassed I was going to be after coming to terms with the fact that I lacked all verbal articulation, "It's YOU!" He looked a little surprised and said, "I guess it is!" I introduced myself and laughed as I segued into telling him we shared our friend Daniel in common. I guess he didn't believe me, because Daniel is a pretty famous figure, himself. And as all people with fame have, Daniel also has a lot of social media friends, so Barlow put me to task.

     "Call him," Barlow looked me in the eyes and then down at my handbag to suggest I take out my phone. 

     "Really? You want me to call him? Okay," I took out my phone and dialed Daniel, "Daniel, I have a friend here who would like to say hi," I handed Barlow my phone and he chatted for about a minute, glancing up to smile at me as he did.

     We stepped outside onto the rounded front steps of the church and sat down, alone. We sat, silently, and Barlow looked over his left shoulder and said, "You know, no one has ever greeted me that way before. Nope, not in my whole life have I ever been called, "Holy shit!" I roared with laughter and apologized for my crudeness, but sometimes, you just don't know what to say and all that comes out are the most simplistic of ridiculous utterances.

     With a group of about 5 other people, Fürgen, Barlow, Neal, and I walked a few blocks to a friend's tiny studio apartment that housed a large, king-sized bed in the middle of the room, a couple of chairs, and a kitchen. Most of us sat around the perimeter of the bed with Barlow to my back. 

     While our host was in the kitchen with a friend, the mood was kind of stale, no one was talking because we were all in the presence of a God. It was painfully obvious that they were silently clamoring not to bore Barlow to tears. One man, tall and lanky, wearing a grey, button-down shirt, scarf around his neck, and brown trousers stood, looming over all who were seated, "Why don't we recite some poetry!" he declared.

     Everyone thought it was a good idea, even Barlow. I was all about it, after all, I had some poems up my sleeve that I could share. I worried that I didn't have many of my works memorized and might mess up the one shot I had at redemption. I was also thinking how this guy really wanted to impress Barlow and how silly and pretentious it was to just assume that everyone had poetry to share from memory. "I'll begin," the man said,"This is a poem by Walt Whitman."

     My mouth dropped open as, one by one, people recited other people's poetry. "What the fuck is this," I thought, "These people are kidding, right?" I kept quiet as four people recited works by famous poets, as Barlow leaned farther and farther back on the bed, being visibly lulled to sleep. 

     So, when the last person finished, I waited for silence and said, "I have a poem I'd like to recite, but it's something I wrote." Barlow sat up. "It's called 'Oh! Albatross' and is a poem I wrote in college when I was an angsty kid. Let's see if I can remember it..." With a bit of dramatic flare and a little bit of nervousness, I spoke:

"Here I am

In a world, crumpled-up
like an old piece of crumb-infested
cellophane
that will soon fall to its
demise
amongst all the forbearing rubbish;
Then I,
that useless bit of cellophane
will be thrown onto the curb
where the thieving ants will come
and scavenge through my few remains;
I will have no choice
but to surrender to their
military ways;
An ultimatum--
Join the Ranks of the Stronghold
or be ripped and torn
into a million
nameless
pieces
to which all that I am is

no more."

     A couple of people clapped and the room erupted in conversation. I was facing a wall as I sat on the bed and I relaxed my posture to kind of slump down, shaking my nerves away. At that moment, Barlow laid back, stretching his neck out to me and said, "I really like your poetry, it's good, you're a good writer."

     "Thank you," I nodded my head up and down, smiling. For a writer to get affirmation from someone who is like royalty that their work is "good", is just about the most satisfying and motivating word, ever. It's so simple, "Good." And for him to say that he liked it, well, I didn't need anyone else to give a compliment, ever again. He took that away that night, that insecurity that writers have, especially when sharing it with others to scrutinize, and he immediately put me at ease.
     I am so grateful to have had such a beautiful interlude. You never know when someone might say something that changes your life for the better, forever.

     Among his poems, J.P. wrote these rules to live by during his Saturn return, which would set his path for the next stage of his life. On August 15, 2013, Barlow participated in a Reddit AMA, where he shared his "Principles of Adult Behavior" that he'd written in 1977, the night before his 30th birthday:

1. Be patient. No matter what.
2. Don’t badmouth: Assign responsibility, not blame. Say nothing of another you wouldn’t say to him in the same language and tone of voice.
3. Never assume the motives of others are, to them, less noble than yours are to you.
4. Expand your sense of the possible.
5. Don’t trouble yourself with matters you truly cannot change.
6. Expect no more of anyone than you can deliver yourself.
7. Tolerate ambiguity.
8. Laugh at yourself frequently.
9. Concern yourself with what is right rather than who is right.
10. Never forget that, no matter how certain, you might be wrong.
11. Give up blood sports.
12. Remember that your life belongs to others as well. Don’t risk it frivolously.
13. Never lie to anyone for any reason. (Lies of omission are sometimes exempt.)
14. Learn the needs of those around you and respect them.
15. Avoid the pursuit of happiness. Seek to define your mission and pursue that.
16. Reduce your use of the first personal pronoun.
17. Praise at least as often as you disparage.
18. Admit your errors freely and soon.
19. Become less suspicious of joy.
20. Understand humility.
21. Remember that love forgives everything.
22. Foster dignity.
23. Live memorably.
24. Love yourself.
25. Endure.

John Perry Barlow

Born October 3, 1947 

Lived fabulously and fully 

February 7, 2018

Rest in Peace

     Fare thee well, now, let your life proceed by its own design,

     There's nothing to tell, now, let the words be yours, I'm done with mine.

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The Only One for Me Is You

The more I read about Syria and think of the past couple decades of middle eastern world affairs, the more it becomes clear that the objective is disruption of the entire Islamic world- religion? Oil? I don't know the "whys", though many people have their own ideas.

I do know that we all suffer in the consistent demoralization of humanity, sitting by, as those who blanket us in security are the monsters in the night who terrorize the hopes for peace. When I say "we", I mean all people of this planet.  Remiss of nationalism or any other "-isms", my choice is not to take sides, nor do I place blame with entities that I or mass culture deem responsible.  I understand that at the core of everything, each person is taught that Survival of the Fittest reigns over the land. I know that we are taught, from the moment the umbilical cord is cut and the oxygen from mother to child is ended, that we must breathe on our own, or perish.

It literally gives me pain to think of others' suffering- it doesn't matter how or in what fashion the pain occurs, just that it exists.  It's a real pain that I feel in my heart when I think of everything from the macro, planetary aspect, to the micro, of a dying child. It's a lot to shoulder that I, individually, am responsible for everything that exists whether positive or negative. What a heavy burden.

Fortunately, the burden is shared. Collectively, we are the same one at heart.  So, sing, dance, chant, pray, meditate, fund-raise, build, create, be that one consciousness that decides Peace. There is enough for all of us if we just change the way we think.

The long-standing beliefs of aloneness and separateness are at the core of humanity's progress and its demise. One mustn't toss out progress in place of collective oneness.  A recent study published in Nature Communications, coupled with common sense, determines that teamwork and cooperation are what propel society into survival.

This very moment of the Now is a chance to transform the energy of perpetual fear and suffering into one of perpetual motion of compassion and peace.

You are enough.

This is enough.

Enough.

I Am, or Am I?

On Sunday mornings, the Tibetan Buddhist Center of Philadelphia invites people to join in meditative practices, as well as holds group (sangha) discussions regarding various aspects of Buddhist thought and philosophy. Last week, after the traditional first-hour, the sangha, led by a senior teacher (when Ven. Losang Samten is away) in the Introduction to Buddhism series, learned of and discussed Vipaśyanā. This form of meditation practice is considered "insight" meditation where one thinks critically of the nature of reality, asking, "Who am I?" and "What is Reality?" While the question must not plague and weigh down the mind, it surfaces in daily life, bobbing up, like little fish in water.

In the last several minutes of the discussion, Jeffrey Carr's summary statement was inspiring when he said, "You only exist in relation to your experiences." What a profound statement- not so much profound in the words as it becomes when one analyzes the breadth of such a notion.

You only exist in relation to your experiences.

Not only will the meaning confound the truth seeker, it opens the clichéd Pandora's Box of self-inquiry. Certainly, people have delved, introspectively, into this realm as it pertains to self identity and the self in relation to the surrounding universe, for millennia. In building upon Jeff's comment, one may see that the individual's own experiences only exist, then, in relation to another person's experiences. If there is only one person, with no other existing beings, does the person exist? No. How can he?

This is reminisce of the ceremonial native North American sweat lodge experience where cool air ceases to be. One enters the lodge, fully knowing the idea of "fresh air"-- air that moves and flows around us and through us. Gradually, within the lodge, steam grows. There is no crisp flow that shocks one back into the safety and comfort of control of self and Ego, there is just steam. Thicker and thicker, it grows over many hours, and soon all one knows is steam and heat. It becomes what "is". There is no dichotomy, nothing to compare "this" to "that". Cool does not exist. Did it ever? One crawls from the claustrophobic womb of the lodge, the breath is taken and again, one remembers the meaning of "cool, crisp air".

From a sociological perspective, one observation is to extend this to greater society, recognizing that a universal interdependence exists. I cannot exist without I (you, me, they, we, he, she, they, us). Therefore, from a psychological perspective, one may also observe that because of this truth, it becomes a matter of life and death of the self that one have the ability to express his or her own life experiences.

It's no wonder that people act-out, demanding recognition of the self-- it brings material, physical validation to the very existence of the self.

This is me. This is you.

From the perspective of human maturation and growth, one finds it nearly impossibile to move beyond freeing that self that requires attention and validation and into a place of peace unless one finds satisfaction in believing he or she exists. If not reconciled, the self will continue to seek satisfaction and contentment in the world-at-large.

How one, then, identifies this lack of satisfaction determines that person's interaction with the rest of the "selves" that simultaneously exist alongside the individual. We are afraid. We are hungry. We are angry. We are love. We are compassion. We are peace.

So, what are you?

In 1999, I wrote a poem in response to my friend, Kelly, to whom I was attempting to convey that because of this interdependence we all all have with each other, one can then free one's self in saying that the "self" can then be defined to encompass all that exists. It has been published on the Zen Buddhist Order of Hsu Yun's website for ten years, after Abbot Chuan Zhi Shakya gave me precepts into the Order and named me, Fa Ming, which translates to “Brilliant Light”:

The Mask

The mask is placed upon the face,

yet envelopes all of me.

For with no disguise, how would your eyes

handle what they see?

I am yesterday, tomorrow, today,

I am all that will ever exist...

the tears you fear, the noise you hear,

a long awaited kiss.

For you I bend; to you, I extend

my million tentacle hands--

they grab you, feel you, show how to heal you

so you may understand...

Why.

I wear the mask, so you Can ask

Truth to seep into your mind--

"I am" is all you need to call

and Eternity you will find.