| |
|
So, yes...What.The.Fuck?
Those of you who followed the OT way back when may recall my encounter with 'John Matthew', the Sesame Street entity in the trans-dimensional star-port chillout lounge, right?
Well, this was nothing like that. This was A BEING. E.n.t.i.t.y. I mean, realler than real. More real than this that we are doing right now, with this silicon entity called the internet. I was completely lucid, feeling remarkably together and had great clarity. And suddenly, emerging from the data I ordinarily filter in order to process the 7 bits or whatever the pathetic amount we all work with to build this model called reality is, emerging like a fade-in, a dissolve in reverse from the background noise, though it felt like it had always been there, had been there since I was born and before, had been with me forever, but I had never been able to notice before, this gigantic, muscular, African-Amazonian-Indian humanoid massive GOD. He (definitely, unmistakeably HE) was black, but blue black, the colour of a still Caribbean Sea in the full moon, jet black, obsidian, reflective, but with ripples of midnight blue. So muscular, a warrior, a chieftain. He was adorned in Gold tribal fittings like elbow pads and knee pads, plus wood, and had feathers and teeth in a necklace. He had a large, long nose, and very (noticeably) white, sharp teeth. He was human beyond human, I can't really explain it. I was so struck by his anatomical perfection, his muscularity. I kind of shot my glance back to him, and was so thunderstruck (I mean, he was there!, with us in the damn room), and slightly afraid, that I pretended not to notice him...as I did this, he mimicked me, shooting his glance away and making a kind of 'oooh!' noise, like, 'Whoops! Didn't really see that!! Honest! Nope, definitely not a giant black African-Amazonian-Indian warrior chief in the middle of the work, no sirree!!', which, in spite of how it sounds, made me feel at ease and more confident...I glanced back at him, and he looked straight at me, and then did this hilarious 'Creeping Stealth' pantomime routine, like if you imagine Jim Carrey over-acting creeping up on someone, all tippety-toes and hands up at the chest...as he did this, he weaved his head back and forth and side to side, and went 'Ooh! Oooooh! Ah! Ooh!', as if to imply something about to give, some target about to be hit and you're trying to will it on to the bullseye, like after letting go of a bowling ball and you can't tell if it's going where you hoped it would...at which point I relaxed completely and engaged completely with this incredible development. This completely broke the ice, he dropped his comedy routine, and relaxed his shoulders and strode purposively, though not aggressively straight towards me. I was utterly gobsmacked, though I managed to maintain my sorceror's detachment (in fact this is where it really came into its own, an instant initiation into its necessity. So, no one else in the room was even vaguely aware that I was in the midst of this absolutely mind-buggering encounter). And what an encounter it was to prove to be.
One of the first things he did was to place his index finger, this large blue black digit with a frankly horrifying sharp talon on the end, on my lips. "Sssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh", he said, gently and full of care. I felt totally at ease, yang, though with a very necessary yin component of utter fucking terror. Hard to convey properly, but if you need to know what Total Respect is, then this is it. Be very careful. Don't worry, but on the other hand, don't get too comfortable either. Be mindful. Pay close, close attention. Because, if you take your eye off the ball for a second, or put a step too far wrong, I'll fucking devour you and the whole fucking room, and for afters I might just eat the planet as well, depending on how I feel, OK? So, yes - not to be mucked about with (yet). Be extremely bloody deferent.
Yes, so, Shhhhhh. I knew, telepathically from this creature, though it did not speak at this point, that I was not, under any circumstances, to discuss this encounter at the end of the work. It was for me, and me alone. I know, inside, that it is OK to do so now, and has been for some time, but there and then, I was not to mention it at all. If you knew me, you'd know that this is no mean feat for me. I tend to be a bit of a gasbag after reality shattering encounters with Omnipotent Godforms, call me slack. Anyway, how could I ignore this particular directive? I paid attention.
I asked him his name and he smiled (teeth! Oh My God, Teeeeeeth! and the void! Teeth in and of the Void!) and shook his head 'No'...don't ask, not now. Whew--eeee.
I just have to go back and re-iterate how unbelievably realer than real this entire thing was. I could not help but go wide-eyed at some points, sorceror's detachment notwithstanding. My theories on this are developing. To those who have never had a DMT experience, it must be hard to imagine...it is not the same as 'Seeing' in the perceptual sense, and the ordinary reality of the senses remains in its usual place, but neither is it anything like the superimposed reality of psilocybin or LSD or any of those alkaloids.
My current description is thus : the DMT alkaloid enables the brain to build, in exactly the same place as ordinary chemical reality (most likely the pineal gland, I suspect), all tucked around and within and wrapped like a moebius strip around that ordinary chemical consciousness, an entirely new construct of an alternative reality. This reality is built using just miniscule trace memories of the perceptual apparatus, so it behaves and is built according to perceptual rules which are comprehensible - it has views, sounds, sights and smells, etc, but it is not constructed using information from the senses themselves - they merely provide some materials for the construction. The data used to actually build the construct is archetypes and genetic memories, deep, deep ancestral memories stored within the very DNA of ourselves...primal, more ancient than homo spaiens by far, and containing the entire journey out of the primordial soup up to the present day. So the model built inside the pineal is as vast as the perceptual Universe apprehended by the senses, but it is populted and constructed with the ancient, cellular memory of everything that has ever lived on this planet, possibly even prior to that, who knows? It is fucking ANCIENT. Like, you think the dinosaurs are old? Nah. That ain't nothing compared to the memories stored inside the cells you are made of. And this incredible, simple, endogenous alkaloid is all it takes to unlock those memories, and build an entirely new narrative of what is occurring within and without your current locus of consciousness. DMT is everywhere, in every living thing. Your own brain is absolutely FULL of it, it is coursing through your veins as you read this. But Monoamine Oxidase prevents it from crossing the blood-brain barrier. Take a booster dose, and consume a Monoamine Oxidase inhibitor, and you plug into the history of life in the Universe...and it spins a story which is archetypal, mythic and full of legends and icons of ancient codes and processes which are at least as important to our understanding of this Universe as maths, physics and science. Notions like the sacrifice of the ultimate beauty, the highest expression of God, to save the rest of life, the opposition of Demonic and Angelic and the ultimate false-dichotomy of this in the firmament of the Ultimate Union, all the myths and legends ever received by the human tuning amplifier and receiver, the brain.
So yes, it was a jaw-dropping, eyeball popping, words-fail awakening to a hidden, subtle and tiny-but-infinitely vast other world which exists, really exists, at some mathematically Golden-Mean meets Pi relationship to this Theatre of the Absurd surface illusion I used to believe was what was really going on. My model of reality was completely annihilated. Here was this GOD, this awesome being, with me, little me, and there were many others also, but this one particularly, and it was time for me to open up my mind to other possibilities than the stories we are told on TV and in the dominant media of this age. Even if these new stories meant an about face on positions as entrenched as my fundamentalist agnosticism/atheism up to this point, even if it meant all sorts of implications I wasn't anticipating, the bell rang for Money $hot. Come on in, you're time is up. Welcome to the Universe.
To vacillate over whether or not these things are 'actually' true, or 'literally' true is to completely miss the point. True - what's that then? The fact is, you are going to have to imbue meaning on the OCEAN of data your tuning receiver is flooded with, overwhelmed with every microsecond, and you are going to do this by telling your'self' (hah!) a story. You will spin a narrative and impose it on this data until it 'makes sense'. This story is yours, you have to make it fit with the actuality of the data received, but it is yours...many people seem to miss this point, and seem to think that by endlessly repeating what they read and see on science programmes and in science journals, and read in 'respectable' journals and periodicals, that they are somehow out of this web of narrative. Sorry, it's all stories, all of it. You are choosing which stories to include in your adventure/tragedy/comedy/farce...well, what is your genre? Just one? An epic incorporating many? Are you the author, the hero, the antagonist, the protagonist, all of these?
Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I digress. Back to my Warrior Chief.
He was a shape shifter. Although he had this main form as described to which he would always osciallate back to, he was extremely fluid, melding in and out of many forms, sometimes completely filling my field of vision, then reassembling back into this very tribal King. He was totally in control of Everything. And he really, really liked me. He approved of me, was there to observe and in some way judge me. For much of the work he was stood off to one side or the other of me, and had his hands clasped behind his back, and would stare at me intently out of the sides of his eyes...quite disconcerting at points!! There he was, standing as if on gaurd or waiting, looking pointedly, always out of the side of his eyes. Askance, I believe is the term. And occasionally he would nod in great approval at my conduct, and detachment. He was on my side. He liked my dancing, and liked my singing. General approval.
But the teeth...tesselated, curved, sharp teeth, and if I stared at them for even a moment too long, this enormous, deep, felt in the sternum guttural growl would sound, a snarl, and the smile would grow and become a cavernous grimace ready to devour everything I had ever been...eek! Then back, Tribal Chief, staring at me out of those eyes, gold nose ring gleaming, feathers bristling.
He was a trickster, of sorts. Not in the traditional sense, but he had an awesome sense of humour, and had little or no interest in the formalities of the Cura. Towards the end, when Don Luis Mendez addressed us all, and spoke at length regarding the Doutrina na Floresta, the doctrine of the forest, this being transformed into a large, blue-black grasshopper, and proceeded to careen around the ceremonial space, boing, boing, cheep, cheep, a high keeing sound coming from him, and occasionally shout (though it pains me to share this) "Bollocks!!"...I was wagging my finger at him, internally, going 'Sssh! Don't', though it made me grin and have to suppress a gigle like a naughty schoolboy, at which point he gave me a trampoline. I proceeded to join him in his grass-hopper-iness, bounding around the room like a child at play, doing Loop-the-loops and cartwheels and somersaults and basically going 'Wheeeeeeeeeee!'. I don't know about you, but trampolining with an ancient all-powerful God-form is my idea of a night well spent.
Anyway, at a certain point in the evening this being was satisfied with whatever it had been observing. It knew enough. It broke away from its perch observing me, hands behind its waist, eyes to the sides, watching, watching, and approached me full face. It placed both enormously powerful hands on my shoulders and gently shook me once, looking staright into my eyes, and I into its (spirals, spirals, DNA, galaxies, Kundalini, snakes entwined, spirals...) It then produced two large, long, ornate peacock feathers and showed them to me...'These are yours. Take them, my gift to you.' No shit, he then drew back both hands and stuck them, forcefully into my back at the top of the vertebrae, where the shoulder blades are at their highest point. There was an instant of sharp pain, then, a cold sensation ran down my spine, and he had inserted these two enormous, beautiful feathers into my body. They protruded from my back. 'These are yours, and you are mine. Wear them always. Remember them in all your negotiations. You are a warrior. These are your feathers. Go into the world with my gift and fight my cause'...He placed a feather head dress on my head shook my by the shoulders agin, once.
Holy. Holy, holy, holy. Gob...Smacked...Unspeakably enormous event, enormous moment in my life. Branded, claimed, and adorned by a very powerful African ancestral God-form? Check. Appointed the title of Warrior by same? Check. Grinning from Ear to Ear in between staggered moments of completely re-written paradigm? Check.
Toward the end of the trabalho he lead me to a beautiful, enchanted forest pool, a rainforest scene with lush green overarching vegetation, a dense canopy above, exotic birds everywhere. The pool was filled with a turquoise / pink, very pastel bi-coloured gel, the consistency of fabric conditioner...pinka nd blue, with luminous sparkles in it and through it. And in he jumped and told me to join him. So I did. And I was transformed into something a little piscine, though not a fish or anything like it, and swam through this gel for about 5-10 minutes. I was tailed, so could flex like a fish (I was not a fish, though...I did not receive my power animal until the solstice, which we'll get to...) and was doing underwater somersaults and trick-moves in this gorgeous, dense gel...I found a water fall and showered under it for ages...In fact, when I came out of the deep reverie I was in at this point, I was sat and squirming my body from the waist, facing the heavens with the biggest smile on my face and just moving like an undulating rhythm, and I came round and there was this very beuatiful girl watching me and smiling so broadly. We locked eyes and both collapsed laughing, she like 'I saw you!!' and me just completely caught up in the glory of that moment and that connection.
What was it? Healing. A giant pool of gelatinous liquid healing, a pool of life, a fountain of youth, an elixir of health and vitality. Thank you, thank you, thank you for taking me there, mighty Chief Warrior King. Obrigado.
When the Cura finished, everybody, but everybody was staggered. It had been so, so powerful for everyone in attendence. Me and the psychonaut who had first introduced me to the Porridge looked at each other, hugged deeply and said, together in union, 'OH!'...I told him, there and then, that I had thought, at 31 years of age, that I was starting to get a handle on what was going on here in the Universe. Scrap that. All old descriptions and models need binning and starting from scratch. My education begins here, today. He concurred!!
Funny enough, a newbie who attended that work (his second, at the time, he is now full time!) came up to me and said that he had been unable to look away from me, because he had seen queues of spirits lining up to come and visit me, and many souls had passed through me and around me in his work. He saw me at the end with a feathered head dress...Yizzaaaa....
On that subject, I, even then, was not one to believe in life after death in the spiritual/spiritism sense of the term, but...My cousin passed away the day before my birthday, she was only a little older than me, 37 years, chronically diabetic and she didn't really look after herself poperly thoughout her life. She loved to party. And it killed her.
But she came to me in that work. Very, perfectly clearly. I met her spirit, shivering and still asthmatic, wheexiong and suffering in the depths of her living illness. I cuddled her, really close, and explained to her, and showed her, that she did not need those crutches, that her living condition was gone, she could let go. She did, and smiled so broadly, so warmly, and stayed for the duration of the work. She came to me, near the end, and said 'How come I did not find this while I lived? Why now? It could have helped me, surely?' to which I simply replied, 'You have found it now, and here it is. What difference? You are OK.' and she was happy with that. It was very strange for me, since I have never entertained these notions before...but there she was, it was her, her spirit, her soul...
I went to the funeral and left a tribute reflecting my experience (though not too blatantly so as not to upset her family), and they approached me afterwards and said it was the most beautiful eulogy in the book of condolences and thanked me...so for that, among many many other things, I am truly grateful.
Ah yes, gratitude. Heaps of that. Viva Don Luis Mendez!
It was not until the solstice, however, that I managed to identify this Godform. It occupied me a great deal since that day. I thought it may well be Thoth, though it had none of the 'flavour' of Egypt, the big nose sort of worked with the ibis beak, the colouration and general aspect was spot on, right down to gold adornment and bringing magic etc., guardian of knowledge and secrets etc., but it didn't feel quite right. I spoke with our esteemed Gypsy Lantern about it, who helped some...but we didn't crack it...
I then thought perhaps Itzamna himself, of the Mayan/Aztec pantheon, very similar to Thoth / Hermes etc., same basic deific concerns, and very close visually :
Right down to the nose, adornments and headgear, but still, I had little affiliation with Mayan culture at this point, though our shaman clearly had more than me, and it was his work!! His icaros, and hinos etc. I settled on this for quite a while, figuring, yeh, I can go with Itzamna...But, at the solstice, all was revealed in what was an increasingly awesome series of 'coincidences' and synchronicities.
One of my favourite Daimistas, a beautiful (sheeeesh) Brazilian girl, makes fantastic t-shirts of the luminaries of the Daime, I have several, but at the Solstice she had some new ones...one particualrly had a cosmic collage of Mestre Irineu, Padrinho Sebastiao up in the sky, the rainforest, and there, next to Irineu, a large Blue Black, warrior chieftain she identified when I asked as none other than Juramidam...The spitting image of what I had met, except on the t-shirt he had a beard, whereas who I met was clean shaven.
There are no images of him anywhere, and indeed as a form he is quite abstract, meaning many things beyond personification. But there he was, straight from Brazil. Juramidam.
So obvious, really. I was looking everywhere except right in front of my face. Hidden in plain view, as is so often the case with these things. Juramidam. Eu vivo na santa luz estou no pe da cruz com Juramidam.
And he stuck feathers in my back and claimed me as his own. Meu Mestre, Estou teu empregado.
So, there's a little background, essential to the unfolding narrative. Next up : Dunno, yet! Back later to spill the beans.
Have a healthy and restful evening one and all. |
|
|
![The Porridge altar, with pictures of Iemanja, Padrinho Sebastiao, A Hummingbird (a symbol of [xxxxx]) and Mestre Irineu.](http://thornton.bulldoghome.com/photos/BDRES/thornton_bulldoghome_com/Altar1.jpg){kind=link}
