With only a small amount of disengagement from ones own cultural assumptions we are able to see the so called pirates as the repressed people of their land standing up to the same old treatment handed to them from the disembodied  humans of desert death cult (ddc) basis.

It has not changed; just I have changed. By being able to actually remember what has happened via stories and being gifted with only a small amount of real critical thought. Not the critical thought taught by the modern brain washing institutions, like universities, but by life, nature and pure experience. View points expressed without ever being humbled by ones own ‘non-importance’ to anything gives one a window into perspectives of the world that enables some form of just-ness.

Murder, deception, manipulation, environmental destruction, greed and general un-compassionate actions of ddc people to others not of ‘their ilk’ reflects back many of these things again and again. Ohh, how we whinge and cry fowl when we start to believe our laws are real; laws that have been made by people, just like books are written by people. We most likely get our neurosis about the infallibility of our laws by believing that a book written by people came from somewhere not human. The most ultimate extra-terrestrial delusion expressed by ddc religion following members. Interesting!

The ability to believe such a thing shows just how removed from the natural order of the world we are, as former and current death-cult members have become. But we didn’t just become like this. It has been going on for a while. An interpretation of the very book that underpins the death-cult is that it is warning about believing the teachings of other humans! It is so ironic that some have really missed the point when it comes to being shown that we are fallible.

I’ve stopped this listening to the parrots of media on all sides. The fringe writers of doom and conspiracy too the hideous suited pretenders peddling child misunderstandings at the speed of light. I don’t even trust the voices in my own mind to tell me anything remotely true. My own inability to grasp even where I stand day to day moves me to viewpoints not palatable to the mass.

Worship up comrades, brethren, brothers and children, we will all die someday. As wind blows the mountains beside me into the sea, I’ll be here till my ending which makes no difference to anything at all.

Maybe.

I am currently experiencing something that I haven’t felt before, that is, for the last three months I have felt like I am in a heightened state of anxiety. Almost constant arousal of the solar plexus area with heart in throat feelings.  The combination of the start of a new intimate relationship with someone and the processing of the past four years internal psychedelic journeying in the hills  of Nimbin, working at a straight job and finding my place in the centre of Australia, drying out in the desert. Wow, I really have a great abilty to be selfish, all these things I have mentioned and I didn’t state that my father has cancer and is undergowing treatment the western way at present. I feel that I may be denying some emotional undercurrents at the moment! Needy is an understatement; combine that with paranoia of being left alone, which is something I have not experience except when pondering the topic of the following post; makes this feeling of anxiety a little disturbing.

Anyway, here is this little piece from the past… I’d like to hear your thoughts!!

Originally Published: Wednesday, 17 December 2003

…is that I find myself in the position that the only certain thing
is that I am going to experience the phenomenon of dying. From my
observation everybody seems to experience this some time in their life.

When I really ponder this certainty and I mean really embrace this
certainty with all my focus and attention it bloody scares me. I have
come to a space in my life that I wish to sit in this fear of death to
try to work out what I am actually scared of. I did this last night for
about a hour. One thing I can say at the moment is that I am scared of
the fact that it is totally unknown. There is no way of me being
certain of what is after death. To even think in terms of certainty and
death is a total coincidence of opposites that it shakes me to the
core. How can death be a certainty when after death there is total
unknowing? It seems to be rather weird, just like every single other
thing in the universe, from all the physical things to the the ideas to
the concepts and emotions and feeling and sounds and descriptions and
everything. It, this world, universe, cosmos is so bloody strange it
boggles my mind whenever I get the chance to just ponder what the hell
is in front of me or even why there is a front. I have no idea how
humans can be bored.

It’s just all too much hedonistic crap for me at the moment. What are the clouds saying at the moment. It may be time to work on that getting pissed thing!!!

I was reading the headlines on RealitySandwhich the other day and thought to myself, “fuck I am sick of this self worship shamanistic crap!” All this studying feelings and thoughts and how we fit into this and fit out of that and what is the right and possible ways of gathering a centred co-creative expansiveness beyond the confines of expressionistic neo-newage symantic shit-fuckism? Cum on the face of Jesus and but-plug the hindu gods, I say! It’s all worth naught up ya heap if we aint got nothing to keep.

There is a part of me that wishes to be able to write such stories. To just say… once upon a time… there was an old man who lived in a shoe. I wish, I wish, and all the time nothing seems to get written on the page. There is no coordinated pictures carefully placed in the block of text to bring meaning to the text, and there is no assortment of links for people to follow their surfing habits and see what I am into. Where has my sharing nature gone? I ask this of myself quite a bit. It seems as if there is a great abundance of wonderful pieces of text just floating in and out of the great copy and sharing methodology called internet. I sometime wonder why we can call internet, internet, without the the?

Sentences like that last make me happy. I am smiling now and pleased that it seems that the language that I am writing makes no sense because we can say words many many many times together. Like blithly bumbling hop-scotch bilby rompy, I am seeing the fingle partridge hapsatchel and scumbumble. There is a picture to be placed to the right, justified text and more meaning and meaning to be emptied onto the electrons of the share machine. It is a lovely day and the thought of text wrapping functions along the placement of song spaces really has brought something out of me. To which, I share with you.

Most of the context that I have come across has been wrapped into introduction, content and conclusion lines of expression. Does this make me think that everything needs a conclusion when all the things we write have been made to fit the three fold model of communication? How do we think when we don’t place our communication into the boundaries of these models? My mind does and it doesn’t.

There are some places that make me wish to express the words of the day. It needs a little encouragement to reach sometimes and this time it was enough. Concluding the paragraph is the goal, filling the content with the stimulation of intelligent logic thought, the aspiration, and reaching the heights of conclusion; the mythic flight of the soul. Where would we be if there were more concepts to our lives? Do I feel that there are concepts to my life? Question after question fills the text space with just captions and bold print to explain the intermediate forethoughts. We, as we as we can be, face this, that and the other. Not withstanding all the by and by, I have come to be held and appreciated by my own deviousness and projections. Flailing and guided along some little path to realise that I know bugger all about nearly everything. Maybe I know about myself the most of all, as for anything else, it is just the suchness that is. Temptation to re read the previous sentences to gather the thought line is strong while in a state of unfamiliarity. The communication lines of seeing where I have been to map out the places I wish to go, come from within me and I cannot tell if it has been programmed into me of it is from within itself. This is the splinter in the mind that cannot be seen, or maybe it isn’t. Maybe i am as nieve as a babe in the chillicots woods, where the brazen pan wiggles and fliggles his wanderlust for all to see. Is that where you are?

The text is long and deep in this one my son! Ohh how it rolls and floats off the fingers as we, qwerty and uiop pause, … ,. How do I pause in text? How is to be? Fear heartedness stops my fingers from placing themselves on the keys and the wish to be just as good as the others cripples that spark. The mirrors of virgo-ness bring the lessons quick and fast on the dirt highway. Rolling along the dust bowls and little gravel ruts that have suddenly produced a new page… go then, to the new paragraph of content. It is waiting for you just a click away. I don’t find the cleverly linked and highlighted text to the associated writings of others here. It is just text all the way to the bottom. How is it to be famous hey? My stomach churns at the thought. Ohhh, I just corrected the miss-spelling for the first time. All the others have been left as they were at the time of writing. And it may not be writing that we are doing now… another lot of three full stops and someone is home. It’s just about time to conclude this as we e’Il.

Ohh, yawn, it really has been fun to share.

I’ve been rehearsing for the past month for the play “You only, Only You” with Kiryn Wilkinson under the direction of Adrian Mattiske. This is only the second play that I have been involved in and was really challenging in different ways to my first. Minimal movement, energy point work and pauses…It has been an interesting month and I am extremely grateful to Adrian for convincing me that I could do it and for Kirryn for being such a wonderful cohort on this little journey on stage…

I’ll be posting the video of the night here on this weblog just as the editing has been finalised. I know it is in retrospect but here is the program anyway so the others in the play can be known as well.