I probably fight because I didn't feel safe. Are we the only animal that isn't born knowing how to protect itself? Here's a thought. I have finally become the father I would want to be for you. Ironic. Today I woke up from a dream. I thought I knew how to fight, I found out I didn't I am remaking myself. You would love this. Ironic.
In this document, I bring together my studies in shamanism, psychology,, religion, prehistory and archeology and process the material through my personal work with grief and ancient healing rituals that use entheogens. I composed all the music but for a few sound effects and quoutes. I like to think of these pieces as dreamscapes, that allow for a broad pallet to explore difficult emotions. Use headphones. Thank you to my Profesor and advisor. Mark S....
Thank you so much for sharing this journey. I share a primal fear and two dreams in this episode. I feel like he's playing the guitar sometimes, thru me. Same thing with training, it's an altered state, a symbolic language of human geometry. Don't give up. I share a book that laid on my night stand for 2 months annd then opened my mind to a new and yet ancient worldview. A see a path. And I weave in a few standards for fun. Enjoy
What I would tell my son if he were alive. I imagine a radical art project. I can't seem to talk about the training. I don't trust the system. How did we get here. He's is at the bottom, what can I do? Did I push you too much? Pythagoaras was murdered by a mob. How do I undo me?
After my son died, I became aware of an inner life that I'd hidden from myself. At points I was certainly experiencing an altered state, I went in and out for weeks and months of catatonic moments and welcomed them to the waking-reality of my son's overdose death. I make these episode to reflect the delirium of an inner state, reflecting my subconcious. Having experienced profound altered states, I wonder if I could drum myself into a trance, from waking to dreaming. I had a breakthru in my trai...
I'm heading into the serious portion of this semester of a masters program. Lot's to read and consider. I'm concentrating on Shamanism, from the archeological, material and anthropological perspective for a while and then shifting to more experimental approaches. My second focus is on fighting competancy and all that implies and entails. In addition to training, I'm reading inspiring books (Touching the Void). Everyday I'm pushed to my limit in search of honesty, efficientcy and good strategy. I...
Thanks for reading. I try to explain my current horizon. looking forward across an unknown. My teachers have found me, more will follow. I love making the music for this, the sonic element helps my use words. I want to understand. How do I do that? thank you
It's been 18 months since my last release. I needed time to come into my new mindset. My experience in the Amazon has been profoundly transformative and the well-being overall has not left me. I still grieve, but in a different way. I can describe it as a living Conversation with my son. Trippy. I'm 2/3rds thru a masters degree using a cross-disciplinary approach to grieving and self-recovery. Amazingly, I've been greenlighted to integrate my somatic work in MMA, Jazz guitar, Shamanic studies an...
Thank you for listening to my difficult journey. I feel it's time for me to move on. I have forgiven my son with all my heart. It's deeper than that, we've reconciled. isn't that strange? It is for me. I had a profound mystical experience. I know I will grieve him all my life, but there's a twist now. Please accept my deepest gratitude for your ears, mind and heart. I don't know what's next. Who does?
I play a song my teacher taught me. I'll train you, we'll give it away. You are a good father, we're beyond that. I forgive you with all my being. You are me. How can this be?
La Selva: Part 2 My second ceremony consisted in running interference. A Russian Hare Krishna bully attempts to hijack the umbrella. It fell to me to handle a situation. What would my son do?, He would not have allowed abusive behavior. One turd intimidated the compound. I gave him another option. Bullies won't stop on their own. I came a long way for this surprising task.
Allow. Astonishment. Fear. The smiling face of a warrior. We fused into one life. I tried to avoid you, then we superimposed. I raised my eyes and received the teachings. Ravished. Dad...don't forget. I'm sorry. I love you.
I'll be in the Rain, Forrest. Letting go of your ashes. Surrending mine. I'm there yet, but I will be. Things like this don't happen to me. or do they? I'll be asking a question that doesn't have an answer. Going Dark.
I mention a potion. The love I feel for him. Admixtures, mush and slipping. My knows, my body doesn't. The word start comes up. One flower pushing up through the concrete. It wasn't an accident, he was leaving. On this day.
The more I learn, The less I know. What's worth dying for? Opium, Mandrake, Cannabis? Junkies die a recreational death without ceremony, artless. I didn't know, I circle. I can't know. Is there a god? There are thousands, we create them, they use us. Fire, wind, water. Preverbal. A Void
The Aftermath. 30 days of hanging out my window. Now hold on a minute! I Chronicle my dope fiending. I make harsh connections, I may have killed my son. No ceremony, just dumbing myself down. He was holding it like a jewel. Vacuum cleaners dying inside. But everybody isn't like you. Wasting decades. Too late now.
I smoked weed for a month. A duet. A Forgiveness Program. Let the guitar tell you. Don't seek Credit. I scrambled my brain for a month. A liquid melting chessboard. Point Zero. Glowing Coals. A text message. My son and I used to use a vape pen together. We need to speak with you today.
A primordal thing. What question could I ask? You can't prepare for it. What were you trying to tell me? There is a fly under the piano keys. Awake me. Nothing is separate there. It's better not to talk about it. You were concerned about something. Out of my body. Untethered.
Maybe you can. This is a program, a memorial. 100 00 00 It doesn't have to mean anything. What a loss, is it wrong? Entertainmant or something else. His first fight. She danced it. I know he would have said somthing like...
Quicksand, I'm usually wrong. Each thru my other eyes. yellow bird. Dead end, Green bird. I'm using my eyes. The Juice. The clinic. I'm usually wrong
It took a few years for me to read this short story. He wrote it before he died.
I bought some food for a guy. Masks. Listen. Birds sing at night. Do you believe in god? Stop. Am I wrong? It's in my nature.
Here's what happened. Whole Foods. A billion dots. I thought I might die. He had it coming. What is the nature of getting high? I surprised myself. I hit the switch. A habit is not a skill. My son visited me, a shower curtain away. I forgot. Behold my hypocrisy. What the f.
Saying goodbye a little everyday. A beautiful life, one to celebrate. She, my son and eye... Does she know you died? Dark days, communicating through song. Pootie. Rituals She's fearless, still alive. Blown out, shot, hunting, she has a pet human. She's one of the last links to my son. My teacher. With her, something is right in the world.
That's not fair! Who are your parents? 4 grains too many. I'm arrogant... even saying so is arrogant Technology turns you into a machine. My Fiction I try to solo in a mental buffet. meaning requires differences. it's complex
Does anything mean anything outside of our meaning making? It was like an acid trip. Basket weaving. As if time was woven. The feathers are just symbols. A spider fights to survive. The plumber cuts a pipe. My feelings don't constitute facts. I'm closed-minded. My fiction.
You would be turning 29 now. He insisted I listen to Alan Watts, so I do. 1000 years of guitar. We are a stream of gas...wut??? We're not who we think we are. I made myself into a drunk, I managed to find a way out in the Library. Mirrors are indifferent. I miss you so much on your birthday, every day. The you that lived.
I hear your man crying. It feels really really weird. Danger in immanent. I lost her for 2 minutes. Hey Monster! We're fractals. I made a promise to their father.
A tone poem of sorts. My Daughter called me as I was composing. She was washing dishes. The microphone was on, so I listened. This life. The trees were alive and beautiful. We're always going to miss him. Something happens...ya know? It's hard to put into words. This life.
Stagnation. I asked a friend for feedback, It was nutritious. The truth is not eloquent. I edit in real-time. I use my son's death to go in circles. Funky and stupid musical language. I blab about reading..is that a thing? I feel an obligation. Inside out. Hastings. 1066
