Day at the Zoo

Hot today. Adventurous day. We didn't chill for long at the park to my disappointment, as she wanted to got a drink somewhere, Starbucks or Jamba Juice. I suggested we go to the store and get some mangos to blend up a drink. When we got there, we got lazy and decided to head to Starbucks. Since I've never really ordered anything there except a Frappacino, I asked, "Do you guys have fruit?" The guy answered with a big list of available fruits they could mix for me. "Gimme something with strawberry and banana in it." They made it. I was surprised. I thought it was going to be a complicated process involving deciphering the menu, calculating nutritional content, and analyzing the price.

Went outside and took a sip. Good Lord, this thing is sweet! My friend thirsted for some water. I asked, "Is it me, or does this taste more like a dessert than a drink? I mean, c'mon, what kind of drink do you need a drink to wash it down with?" Besides shots of liquor of course. I didn't want it to sound like I was having a bad time though, so I added that it tastes good and thanked her for taking me out to the zoo. The latter comment probably confused her more since we hadn't gone to a place with animals behind metal bars today.

What should we do now? Normally, I'd go back home and read a book or website, watch a video on weird science, or just lounge on my bed drawing and listening to some elevator music. But since I was with someone, I decided to not bore her. I took on her suggestion to go to the theatre though we had no idea what movies were currently playing. I asked her which movies were not scary. Scary movies give me bad dreams. Since we didn't recognize most of the movie names, I decided to pick a PG movie, reasoning that anything beyond PG would consist of too much sex and violence and possibly be scary. Now, though I like sex dreams, I'd rather have them triggered by tactile experiences rather than artificial ones. I've had enough of that with Internet pr0n. "Monster House" was playing. An animation. Yay! Animations don't give me bad dreams. Should be goofy funny, too, which is a plus.

Familiar themes. Smart-ass kids, skeptical and cynical, just like the adults in the story, the hero kid being the only open-minded one. The stereotypes drawn were dead on. Little boy in a haunted house sees explosives, what's the automatic response? "Explosives, so cool!" Know-it-all girl-scout exhibits her capitalistic prowess haggling with a bitchy babysitter impressed by her incisive cynicism. At this point, I lose track of which side of the mirror is real, art or reality.

The only unrealistic thing was how brave and compassionate the boy was. Like wolves in sheep clothes, maybe the artists were trying to subliminally train the next generation to be more open-minded and stand up for their very valid questions. I'd love to think that, but as I toyed with the Cup'o'Sugar TM in the conveniently placed cup holder and listened to kids laugh at the more "adult" (i.e. cynical) jokes, I questioned their success.

Oh, but they're trying their best in an unforgiving corporate world to squeeze even a little ray of sunshine through the cracks of the munitions factory! Okay fine, here's a pat on the back and my $6.50 vote for drawing the line two inches further away from Sodom.

We left the theatre and went back to my place. I wanted to just chill out and do something from the aforementioned list (read, watch science video, draw, music), so I sheepishly mentioned it, "What I would normally do at this hour..." She didn't reply. I start talking about the Viktor Frankl book I just finished reading. Note to self: genocide stories are a social buzzkill.

My friend mentions that another one of her cousins got married, bringing emphasis to our ticking clocks. I tell her that I've been late for every cultural rite of passage, or, more accurately, my curriculum is just plain out of order. Where's my college degree, high-paying corporate job, fiance, and honeymoon in Maui? Oh, but I got Zen jokes up the wazzoo and can make up a new meaning for life in 2 minutes! Where's my fancy suit and my fancy car, driving up to my fancy office? Oh, but I'm essentially retired! And instead of a tropical island resort, I stay in farmhouses, attics, and cornfields. When I run out of gas or plane fare, I sleep in a scientist's basement and program a robot for him.

Why am I justifying my existence? Because I dropped my script somewhere, and I'm just making all this up as I go along. I have to make the story believable somehow.

Hyper-Dimensional Exploration

I see it as a way of improving my perceptive abilities. The clearer we see the world, the easier it is to navigate through our problems. A hyper-dimensional model of the universe can explain, predict, and help us control how thoughts, emotions, ideas, and sensations flow around and in us. Consciousness is another dimension (or set of dimensions) distinct from but relating to the 3D + time we are familiar with. We are, in fact, constantly moving in hyperdimensions though we are unconscious of it.

The five senses imprison us in ways that are unconscious and invisible. Years ago, I read accounts of congenitally blind people who were given sight overnight thanks to innovative surgery. On being exposed to light for the first time, they were often completely disoriented. They wondered why people dragged black patches around with them wherever they went (we call them shadows). If asked how big a cow was standing a hundred yards away, they’d guess three inches tall; stairs were frightening two-dimensional ladders climbing straight up the wall. Sometimes these bizarre perceptions were so disturbing that the newly sighted preferred to sit in the dark with their eyes closed. Aren’t we doing much the same by clinging to the world of the five senses? (Deepak Chopra on Forbes.com)

There are techniques, ancient and new, that allow one to consciously move in hyperdimensions. For example, in a lucid dream, one is aware that one is dreaming and thus may have some degree of conscious control over the dream environment and body. Lucid dreams are good practice for seeing the how much we are responsible for our perceptions even in waking life. There is a kind or cousin of lucid dreams called out-of-body experiences or etheric projection where you actually perceive the same world that other people see but with things added or subtracted depending on what your mind is attuned to. I can go out-of-body, but I'm not sure how well my perceptions correspond to consensus reality.

Indigenous shamans use altered states to help their tribesmen heal from life threatening diseases. They do this by going into the spirit realm (a dimensional shift) and imploring their helper spirits to reintegrate their client's soul or to remove a spirit parasite.

The Buddha cautioned practictioners from becoming attached to what he termed the deva realms. I can imagine how easy it would be to get intoxicated with power and sink to the lower realms. In many sutras, I remember the admonitions to notice these states and let them pass so that the meditator can move on up to full enlightenment. Well, I'm a curious tourist. :) I'm going to stay at some spots, soak in the air, and take a lot of pictures before moving on. Plus these altered states have overtaken me unintentionally since I was a kid. Only now that I've practiced them can I control them a little.

Upaya Means Skillful Means

The Buddha taught different things to different people because he could see their differences and could customize his teaching for the person and situation. The whole idea of non-self to me is such a customization designed for his mother culture Hinduism, which places an emphasis on finding the self, atman. I liken it to Nietzsche proclaiming "God is dead." I don't think Nietzsche really thought God was alive in the first place, but his message was encapsulated in a metaphor that made sense at the time.

In one story, Buddha saw a bunch of his students doing a bunch of different practices. One was counting his breath, another was contemplating a mantra, another was chanting, another was meditatively sweeping the floor, another was doing kind acts, another was bowing, etc. He saw this and said, "Good!" He saw that there were many vehicles, many Dharma doors, and there was no need to force everyone into one boat. Similarly, I believe everyone doing their thing is fulfilling their dharma. If I wish to help someone become more clear sighted, I must closely observe their path and suggest directions from their perspective instead of mine. Going north from here might put one face to face with an impassable mountain. Going north from there might take one to a meadow.

Art for Me

People are sensitive about their artistic ability. They apologize for being unskilled when they're just being themselves. Art is associated with critique. Though "high-culture" art has its place, it is unfortunate that it should scare would be creative-expressors from spilling their guts on a canvas or an LCD. They miss out on the adventure of creation. They miss out on the catharsis. They miss out on contemplation over the finished piece.

Kiss Hank's Ass

This morning there was a knock at my door. When I answered the door I found a well groomed, nicely dressed couple. The man spoke first:

John:
"Hi! I'm John, and this is Mary."

Mary:
"Hi! We're here to invite you to come kiss Hank's ass with us."

Me:
"Pardon me?! What are you talking about? Who's Hank, and why would I want to kiss His ass?"

John:
"If you kiss Hank's ass, He'll give you a million dollars; and if you don't, He'll kick the shit out of you."

Me:
"What? Is this some sort of bizarre mob shake-down?"

John:
"Hank is a billionaire philanthropist. Hank built this town. Hank owns this town. He can do whatever He wants, and what He wants is to give you a million dollars, but He can't until you kiss His ass."

Me:
"That doesn't make any sense. Why..."

Mary:
"Who are you to question Hank's gift? Don't you want a million dollars? Isn't it worth a little kiss on the ass?"

Me:
"Well maybe, if it's legit, but..."

John:
"Then come kiss Hank's ass with us."

Me:
"Do you kiss Hank's ass often?"

Mary:
"Oh yes, all the time..."

Me:
"And has He given you a million dollars?"

John:
"Well no. You don't actually get the money until you leave town."

Me:
"So why don't you just leave town now?"

Mary:
"You can't leave until Hank tells you to, or you don't get the money, and He kicks the shit out of you."

Me:
"Do you know anyone who kissed Hank's ass, left town, and got the million dollars?"

John:
"My mother kissed Hank's ass for years. She left town last year, and I'm sure she got the money."

Me:
"Haven't you talked to her since then?"

John:
"Of course not, Hank doesn't allow it."

Me:
"So what makes you think He'll actually give you the money if you've never talked to anyone who got the money?"

Mary:
"Well, He gives you a little bit before you leave. Maybe you'll get a raise, maybe you'll win a small lotto, maybe you'll just find a twenty-dollar bill on the street."

Me:
"What's that got to do with Hank?"

John:
"Hank has certain 'connections.'"

Me:
"I'm sorry, but this sounds like some sort of bizarre con game."

John:
"But it's a million dollars, can you really take the chance? And remember, if you don't kiss Hank's ass He'll kick the shit of you."

Me:
"Maybe if I could see Hank, talk to Him, get the details straight from Him..."

Mary:
"No one sees Hank, no one talks to Hank."

Me:
"Then how do you kiss His ass?"

John:
"Sometimes we just blow Him a kiss, and think of His ass. Other times we kiss Karl's ass, and he passes it on."

Me:
"Who's Karl?"

Mary:
"A friend of ours. He's the one who taught us all about kissing Hank's ass. All we had to do was take him out to dinner a few times."

Me:
"And you just took his word for it when he said there was a Hank, that Hank wanted you to kiss His ass, and that Hank would reward you?"

John:
"Oh no! Karl has a letter he got from Hank years ago explaining the whole thing. Here's a copy; see for yourself."

** From the desk of Karl **

1. Kiss Hank's ass and He'll give you a million dollars when you leave town.
2. Use alcohol in moderation.
3. Kick the shit out of people who aren't like you.
4. Eat right.
5. Hank dictated this list Himself.
6. The moon is made of green cheese.
7. Everything Hank says is right.
8. Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.
9. Don't use alcohol.
10. Eat your wieners on buns, no condiments.
11. Kiss Hank's ass or He'll kick the shit out of you.

Me:
"This appears to be written on Karl's letterhead."

Mary:
"Hank didn't have any paper."

Me:
"I have a hunch that if we checked we'd find this is Karl's handwriting."

John:
"Of course, Hank dictated it."

Me:
"I thought you said no one gets to see Hank?"

Mary:
"Not now, but years ago He would talk to some people."

Me:
"I thought you said He was a philanthropist. What sort of philanthropist kicks the shit out of people just because they're different?"

Mary:
"It's what Hank wants, and Hank's always right."

Me:
"How do you figure that?"

Mary:
"Item 7 says 'Everything Hank says is right.' That's good enough for me!"

Me:
"Maybe your friend Karl just made the whole thing up."

John:
"No way! Item 5 says 'Hank dictated this list himself.' Besides, item 2 says 'Use alcohol in moderation,' Item 4 says 'Eat right,' and item 8 says 'Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.' Everyone knows those things are right, so the rest must be true, too."

Me:
"But 9 says 'Don't use alcohol.' which doesn't quite go with item 2, and 6 says 'The moon is made of green cheese,' which is just plain wrong."

John:
"There's no contradiction between 9 and 2, 9 just clarifies 2. As far as 6 goes, you've never been to the moon, so you can't say for sure."

Me:
"Scientists have pretty firmly established that the moon is made of rock..."

Mary:
"But they don't know if the rock came from the Earth, or from out of space, so it could just as easily be green cheese."

Me:
"I'm not really an expert, but I think the theory that the Moon was somehow 'captured' by the Earth has been discounted*. Besides, not knowing where the rock came from doesn't make it cheese."

John:
"Ha! You just admitted that scientists make mistakes, but we know Hank is always right!"

Me:
"We do?"

Mary:
"Of course we do, Item 7 says so."

Me:
"You're saying Hank's always right because the list says so, the list is right because Hank dictated it, and we know that Hank dictated it because the list says so. That's circular logic, no different than saying 'Hank's right because He says He's right.'"

John:
"Now you're getting it! It's so rewarding to see someone come around to Hank's way of thinking."

Me:
"But...oh, never mind. What's the deal with wieners?"

Mary:
She blushes.

John:
"Wieners, in buns, no condiments. It's Hank's way. Anything else is wrong."

Me:
"What if I don't have a bun?"

John:
"No bun, no wiener. A wiener without a bun is wrong."

Me:
"No relish? No Mustard?"

Mary:
She looks positively stricken.

John:
He's shouting. "There's no need for such language! Condiments of any kind are wrong!"

Me:
"So a big pile of sauerkraut with some wieners chopped up in it would be out of the question?"

Mary:
Sticks her fingers in her ears. "I am not listening to this. La la la, la la, la la la."

John:
"That's disgusting. Only some sort of evil deviant would eat that..."

Me:
"It's good! I eat it all the time."

Mary:
She faints.

John:
He catches Mary. "Well, if I'd known you were one of those I wouldn't have wasted my time. When Hank kicks the shit out of you I'll be there, counting my money and laughing. I'll kiss Hank's ass for you, you bunless cut-wienered kraut-eater."

With this, John dragged Mary to their waiting car, and sped off.

(copied from the intarweb)

Make You Better

People talking shit to others. They are crying inside. Plugging their ears to reason. Hate and ignorance. These are the "names of God" I don't like. But since God made them, he must love them, and my hatred of them is hatred of God. I see rationally how absurd it is to fight Creation. In a simple Pascalian wager, I place my bets on lesser of two sufferings. I align myself to the side that allows the universe to express its ugly and beautiful variety. I say no thanks to the power to dominate for domination hinders free will and is suicidal as I am one and the same as everything else.

Let those who bicker do so. Let those who manipulate meet their consequences and lessons. If they do not connect their suffering with their actions, let them run the hamster wheel. Interference is usually self-serving.

The million dollar question to test my intentions:

* Do I wish to change you / make you better?

Electric Sheep

Funny how many computer programmers I meet at a spiritualist gathering. Out of 3 guys, 2 were programmers at some point in their life. One woman's boyfriend was also a programmer who was teaching her how to program. And I wasn't even in Silicon Valley.

Funny how they tell me they are afraid to talk about spiritual things in their work place. Funny because maybe they'll all meet them one day at a similar gathering, a bunch of programmers gazing at auras and swirling hands over chakras. Heck, when I try to exercise my third eye, guess what I see? {I.see Java(code);} No, serious. I took a powernap yesterday, and within 13 minutes, I see a small circle of light "through" my eyelids in which /* Java code */ was floating about. Too fuzzy to be read, but they were in the same familiar format. Last week I woke up to windows popping up and closing behind my eyelids. I don't know if androids dream of electric sheep, but I'm sure programmers do.

What is it about computer programmers that draws us to the immaterial? I thought we were supposed to be positivistic, logical, "left-brain" types. Duh! We swim in the immaterial. Except we call it software, not spirit. In trying to imitate or augment the human mind with computers, many of us have learned to appreciate the incomprehensible sophistication of the computer in our body, if it really is in the body at all. As our technology advances, the boundaries between our tools and the environment they interact with blur until their location in the physical universe is obscured. I don't even know where this site is. Is it on tiny magnets in a refrigerated room, in the RAM of your computer, in your ISP's cache, floating through the air as perturbations in the electromagnetic ether, or all of the above? Similarly, where is our mind? Is it bouncing around as electric potentials between the axons and dendrites in our brain, quantum fluctuations in the microtubules all over our body, floating through the air as perturbations of the electromagnetic ether, or all of the above?

Those who believe in a purely mechanistic model of the universe should try to build a really smart robot. Maybe in their failure will the designers find their own souls. Michio Kaku says that the smartest robot humans have come up with barely competes with a cockroach in terms of responding intelligently to its environment. (It's on Mars right now.)

However, if the designers overestimate the AI they created, they run the risk of "robopomorphizing" humans. After all, humans are pretty stupid and robotic in many ways. We are the electric sheep Philip K. Dick's androids dream of, robotically following orders to consume and fornicate. Our boundless stupidity and suicidal violence makes it easy for some to envision electronic overlords putting us out of our misery. On the other hand, I think that some of us have figured out how to use that internal spark for something other than burning resources and firing the thrusting pistons, if you know what I mean. I believe our creative potential is left mostly untapped, awaiting evolutionary adventurers to "mutate" our so-called junk DNA into action.

Be Afraid

A common complaint levied against Western Buddhism is its leniency regarding the self and its agnosticism regarding evil spirits. I found a gem digging in the uncle's crates today--a dharma tape telling a supposedly 500 year old story. It reflects what I've been reading in the Cassiopaean material with Laura Knight Jadczyk. (I'm currently on chapter 28 of The Wave.) LKJ is vehemently opposed to blindly loving New Ageism, sharply criticizing their wishful thinking and ignorance of beings trying to take advantage of them. This tape, entitled Destiny Can Be Changed, briefly mentions the technically advanced but immature beings who eavesdrop on us and whom LKJ discusses at length as the Service-to-Self (STS) beings.

I'm not finished listening to the tape yet, but so far, the story mirrors the section I'm reading from LKJ so much. The Venerable Wu Ling tells of a man who has his fortune told, and as the years pass, he finds the predictions so dead on that he relinquishes his grip on life and peacefully lets destiny take its course. He then meets a master who tells him he could change his destiny if he did some practices, such as being kind, being mindful, doing good deeds, reciting a mantra, and clearing his mind of discursive thought.

LKJ discovers in Gurdjieff and Ouspensky a very similar picture of the human predicament. We are robots with very predictable lives. Only if we practice diligently seeing how we are influenced externally can we ever find our kernel of free will. Another similarity between LKJ and Wu Ling is that Wu Ling also encourages practictioners to feel shame for making mistakes and to fear more sentient beings, suggestions you don't hear very often in the self-centered New Age circles LKJ criticizes.

Audio excerpt from Destiny Can Be Changed: Eavesdropping_Beings.mp3

Conform/Rebel

Damn it. I thought I was over this. I just got up from a bad dream:

I was playing baseball at school. I was playing a base. I miss catching the ball every time. So embarrassed. When I throw the ball, it doesn't go where I want it to. Too weak. More embarrassment. I'm feeling really shitty. My heart pounds hard as the spotlight is on me to perform. I awake with the pounding heart.

There's nothing more painful than social impotence. Conformity is safe. To follow the herd means to be protected from being stampeded. But when I can't catch up, it is embarrassing. I do get run over. The pressure builds to conform and perform better. I fail again due to the pressure, and the pressure only builds.

Another part of me rebels to preserve the kernel of individuality. But the rebellion itself is taking up so much energy that I don't have any to expend on real self-expression.

To one not suffering from this double-bind, the solution seems so obvious and easy. Just let go of the conform/rebel complex and be myself. Yet the more I push it away, the harder it rebounds, or the more insidiously it pervades another part of my life. It's one of those soul fragments that scream for attention and only the proper kind, but what is the proper response? The mere knowledge of their existence does little to mitigate them.

So I try dialogue.

I asked that part of me why it was there. It means to protect me from the stampede. It means to find for me the apparent peace and good fortune of the "normal." They do look relatively confident. It wants me to be like that. It wants their nonchalance. It wants their free expressiveness. It wants their friends and their toys.

The other part hates the normal. It sees the normal as a bully, trying to squish all real self-expression, allowing only for that which fits within their parameters. It projects its own repression on others, seeing them as cowardly automatons following a script. It responds with anger and vindictiveness toward authoritative attempts to confine it. It uses the little remaining brainpower I have to rationalize political and religious views that maintain its position as victim of the mainstream. It wants to change the world because it doesn't fit into this one.

You're both crazy. Thank you for your time, but I don't need your "help" any more. If you would please leave, I could get on with my life and great achievements, after which I'll buy you guys a drink for your attempted assistance. Okay, bye now. "No!" they respond.

Breathe in slowly. Breathe out. Letting go of thoughts run amok, giving despair a blank look when she visits. The thoughts come back; let go again. Rinse, tumble, repeat. What else is there to do?

Caffeine Conscious

I don't like caffeine because it disrupts my chill mood. I drink soda about two or three times a year. Stupidly, I decided to try it out again even though I've never had a good experience with it. Yep, there come the jitters. Anxiety. Wait! What if I adjust my personality to use this extra energy? So I blast some music, Radiohead's Amnesia. No, too chill. Atmosphere's Happy Clown Bad Dub 8. Hmm, surprisingly still too chill! Lyrics Born - Same Shit Different Day. Yes! This is perfect. Set the volume to 11 (it's one higher).

And it's conscious rap: Lyrics Born - The Last Trumpet (remix)

pwned

You know a song is good when it's banned by the Nixon Administration: Eugene McDaniels - Headless Heroes. We're pawns in the master game or prawns in the master's wok, food for the powerful.

Self-Stupefaction

Click here for audio version.

We stupefy ourselves so that we may experience learning. The angels say, "Learning is fun." However, while in class, we rebel or don't pay attention. Even this is part of the experience we signed up for! We wanted to see what separation from the truth (of our infinite power) looks like so we forget our source. We wanted to feel what being prey for spirit predators feels like so we expose our souls to greed and fear.

From this stage, we can go on learning and reunite our fragmented selves or we can reject the true laws of nature and continue to live blind and broken. No easy "proof" will be given to us of the truth because that would stifle our own personal discovery of the truth. It would go against the contract we agreed on upon entering this realm. We came here to experience innocence and learning in a free will environment, not to be fed into a factory and programmed with knowledge.

We are on an adventure of self-discovery. Every new problem is a challenge that stretches our imagination and thus our power. Even stagnation is not a sin. It is the choice to revel in or suffer in our self-created playground or self-imposed prison, respectively.

Reference: The Wave by The Cassiopaeans through Laura Knight-Jadczyk

Why Robot?

When I was young, I wanted to be a robot and almost succeeded. I didn't become a robot to just hide my emotions, I became a robot to hide the other human frailty--making mistakes. In an uninformed mimicry of Mr. Data from Star Trek, I threw the baby out with the bathwater as I rejected emotions and tried to hide my irrationality. Emotions are not inherently bad, and neither are mistakes. The mistakes and their corollary negative emotions are but signals to the mind that encourage a course adjustment. Denying their existence is like unplugging the warning lights on a vehicle, stupid and dangerous.

In a more appropriate balance of emotion and intellect, these facets of my mind become tools to an end directed by conscience and good will. They are not to be disregarded or destroyed simply because they are unpleasant.

I wrote a related article a while back on pain as a messenger: Don't Kill the Messenger.

Ideomotor Signaling

An interesting way to talk to the subconscious mind is through ideomotor signaling. Ask the subject a question, and watch the body language. You can ask the subject to move her hands or fingers in different ways for "yes," "no," "maybe," or "no answer." You can use a Chevreul pendulum, which is simply holding a 12 inch string with a small weight over a cross in which the axes represent "yes" and "no" and diagonals are "maybe" and "no answer." According to clinical research, about 70% of subjects easily produce the subconscious movements needed for ideomotor questioning to work. They are usually surprised by the answers produced, not feeling like they consciously own the answers. This approach to psychotherapy unveils the subconscious much more quickly than free association. Ouija boards also work the same way. Furthermore, issues can be resolved without the subject even having to know the content of the repression. The therapist can simply ask if the subconscious can solve the particular hidden issue being discussed.

Understanding the powerful, reality-tunnel shaping nature of unseen mental forces, I am enthusiastic about exploring this way of communicating with those forces. Unfortunately, I can't get consistent results with the Chevreul pendulum yet. In trying to calibrate a "yes," the pendulum keeps shifting axes or go in circles. I seem to have strong resistance to self-hypnosis. The only time I'm really autosuggestible is in hypnogogia.

For more on hypnosis and ideomotor signaling, check out Experiencing Hypnosis (PDF) by Milton H. Erickson, M.D. and Ernest L. Rossi, Ph.D.

Channeling the Guru

I'm starting a new experiment in channeling an entity from another dimension that might be my Full-Potential Self. I call him the guru. He tells me to do things, and I record it onto mp3. This page will be the regularly updated archive of channelings. (Warning, there's some cussing.)

1. Make 40 mistakes daily (2006-05-29)