waking dreams

See you on Facebook

praxis — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 23:29:23 GMT

Hey dearies, you can find me on FaceBook for those looking for a network that's alive and growing. Cool tools and toys and gifts too (like the pic) http://www.new.facebook.com/profile.php?id=667932607 My best wishes for tribe. I hope they find a way to port all this wonderful information! See you on the other side, G aka Theory

Of Acro and Track Bikes

praxis — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 01:39:45 GMT

Today I got back into Acro hardcore. It was totally balls to the wall, except my head kept getting ahead of my body. I am so hungry for the type of exercise that I just say an invigorating "YES" to every practice, form, and challenge. Unfortunately this meant I tried a very tricky hand balance with another man's weight completely atop me. The result of well over 300 pounds on just my two wrists and open palms was that my left shoulder blew out completely, and we fell to the ground, HARD, as my left body collapsed. This embarrassed and angered me at the same time. It meant I had exceeded my limits. Urgh. I jumped back in the fray fairly quickly but the damage was done. I kept pushing it and that pesky shoulder blew out three more times in the course of practice and playtime with several other partners. Good that we had spots! This is the first "chronic" injury I've ever had to deal with ever. That it limits my practice, is a fact that I am currently struggling with. I'm going to attack the problem head on as usual... more gym time, really building up that deltoid to build up structure around the shoulder joint. And, for the time being, it might be good to focus more on the balance and flexibility routines and steer away from the raw strength, at least the ones that stress the shoulder. Staying on the physical track, somehow I connected through one of my acro-partners into the esoteric world of track-bikes today. Everything about them excited me greatly. Here's the lowdown: Track bikes 101: - built for velodrome - no gears - no brakes - simple maintenance - elegance: pure and simple Oh, bonus: they were first popularized in Jamaica and the Caribbean, then came to New York bike messengers from there, and are now finding their way onto the street akin to skating / surfing / BMX / extreme sports subculture. Right up my alley! :) more for the curious and fearless: http://www.nonduality.com/900gg.htm http://www.oldskooltrack.com/ ---- photo credit: No Brakes ATL

new perspectives

praxis — Sun, 03 Aug 2008 02:35:19 GMT

Researching Om images, I found an equal number of cameras to Hindi symbols. In Dubai, my little Nikon girlycam broke due to too much sand in the innards. So I went to ebay, and picked up a 36 year old 35mm SLR for $60. In molded leather case. With F1.8 lens (this means, I can take non-blurred photos in dark places with no need for flash). And a schweeet strap. This camera is da bomb. It has a really really narrow depth of field, which makes just stunning photos (sharp focus subject, blurred foreground, blurred background). It is 100% mechanical, no batteries, so it is instantaneous... the exact millisecond I push the shutter button, the blades of the aperture snap open and shut, BAM! The optical viewfinder is huge and crisp and shows me precisely what the photo will look like, down to the most minute detail and focus. I blew through 100 shots at the beach this week, of children and portraits (thank you 50mm goodness) and flowers. They go to the lab for developing and scanning on Monday. I'm crossing my fingers! So in this manner, back to the future as it were, I am rediscovering the joy of photography.

The Voices are back

praxis — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 04:30:54 GMT

I have learned to listen. Here is what this means to me. I will use the streets of New York as my example. I am constantly looking at people on the street. I make eye contact with every interesting person I see, in series. I look at them from the time I see them until the time they pass. I get one of two reactions once my gaze is met; a majority look down or away; the rare creature meets my gaze and holds it; when I have the courage to hold it as well (this is intriguing, try it: eye to eye with a beuatiful stranger closing from 20 to 5 feet is wonderful energy work), she eventually cracks a smile, which I happily return. I want to meet new people. Specifically, I want to meet a beautiful and confident woman, and make love to her from the first word out of my mouth. So I am constantly on the look out for beautiful women. And in New York, on the streets, there are many. So my drive leads me to make contact, to smile, to say hello, to initiate conversation, to play. And sometimes I do this, and it is generally pleasurable and fun, and most times I do not, and it is torturous. When I engage, it is with all energy and complete focus and concentration. Generally within a few minutes I am sweating, because of the pure amount of energy I am devoting to the interaction... both speaking, and listening to everything: voice, words, tone, body language, ambient atmosphere. It is about this ambient atmosphere that I write now. It is the subtle voice... the wind upon which all our conversations are carried. It is the local audible environment. It is Jung's Synchronicity, manifest. It is the Will of God. It encourages me and goads me, rewards me and punishes me. Example: I do a courageous thing, like ask a girl for her phone number; at that very moement, a loud cheer goes up from the bar patrons, who are watching a sporting event on television. I do a cowardly thing, like saying "nice meeting you" and skulking away, before the interaction is even closed. Simultaneously a girl in the corner shrieks "Looooser!" to one of her friends at her table. Neither of these "environmental responses" has a direct causal relationship to my actions; but they are both so perfectly timed as to make me a believer... and these are not freak occurences... these types of feedback loops occur literally as the 24/7 karmic soundtrack of my life. I only really started paying attention to this type of energetic sub vibration since my travels to Jamaica, where the people there spoke verbally of one thing, while their body language and eye movements said sooooo much more than words could possibly convey. I took body language boot camp in the Jamaican ghetto, where few white men had ever tread. I learned to pay more attention to the eyes and bodies than I did to the words themselves. I brought this knowledge back to America; amazingly, across all cultural backgrounds and income strata, the same rules applied. Follow the eyes; track the hand gestures, watch the posture and the stance; these are the keys to the true intentions. I do my best to follow these voices and to use them in my conversations, interactions, and travels. When I follow them, they always reward. And yet... and yet... there is a time when one must say "Damn the torpedoes, this is MY intent." And at these points, I drown out the voices, and I listen to my own inner voice, the real *inner* voice, and I do what I want to do. And this becomes the ultimate confidence; the ability to shut out the voices, and hear only the voice of one's personal muse. On reason I am writing this is to get feedback from y'all... do others work in the world like this? I've never talked to anyone about this, except for one counselor who decided I was crazy... with nasty consequences. Of course, when I started talking to animals, and told the world about it, almost everybody told me I was completely crazy. Then I walked into the woods, listened to nature, and moved close to a wild bird and ever so slowly raised my hand and actually rubbed this little wild songbird's belly!!! This convinced me once and for all that I was completely validated in my beliefs. Just because most Americans have not had the opportunity, the choice, and the patience to closely interact with wild animals, does not mean it is not possible. Om Shanti.

20 years of Practice and Gratitude

praxis — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 05:40:35 GMT

Before it becomes a blur, I want to take some time to thank, and pay tribute to, the people in my life who brought me into the tradition of Yoga. First, when I was just 5 or 6 years old, my grandmother (who was at least 50 at the time) showed me how to place both my feet behind my head... through actual demonstration. That's where it all began. Thank you Oma. you gave me inspiration. Ten years later I ordered a book by mail, the Sivananda Companion to Yoga. Alongside "Massage", I read both these books cover to cover over and over again. I studied the meridians from my massage book, and compared them to the chakras in my yoga book. I began a serious personal yoga practice when I was 27 years old, in my home, having only the book to guide me. This practice brought me into clarity and helped me make a major transition in my life. I was on the verge of attaining a full scorpion, which, according to the book, was the only asana to require a strenuos, pulsed power movement. Then suddenly, I left yoga alone for many years. I married, had two children, and moved to San Francisco. Thank you Sivananda Center. you gave me foundation. In the summer of 2007, just after sunrise, I was wandering about the streets of Mysteria, the mountain home of Transformus: the southeast regional burn. Under a huge and beautifully sculpted white tent, a yoga class was beginning. I myself was about 3/4 way through my very first ever acid trip, and was compelled to join the class... my very first yoga class ever. I just realized this second, it was two firsts together: what happened next was nothing short of a miracle. A girl by the name of MelMacPink led the class. She sat in the precise center of the tent, and an intimate group of yogis and yoginis were perfectly arranged like spokes on a wheel, radially pointing towards her. MelMac talked about energy and chi and chakras as we went through the asana flow, and with the magical influence of the acid, I could powerfully feel the precise movement of the energy, both within my body, and even more amazingly, as improvisational ley lines manifested between all the humans present. MelMac had a brilliant intuition as a teacher, and the class was mind blowing for me. It was as if all those years of book practice finally made sense, in the flesh. And the instruction was so deep and personal and manifest, it was *nothing* like the purely technical exercises I had been working on before. This was *life!* Thank you MelMacPink. My very first yoga teacher. In a complete dada moment, in the very middle of class, two Amish people came by, in full costume, bearing a hand-woven basket full of boiled eggs. To each of the practitioners, an egg was offered. Back to our story now. That same day, I met in the flesh a woman who I had been corresponding with for quite some time, an avid hooper and yogini. Over the next several months we practiced yoga together in the mornings, often with the assistance of videotapes and DVDs. Carolyn had a great intuitive sense of musculo-skeletal alignment, and energy flow. She really emphasized "heart forward", as well as the way to apply proper force down the pads of the index finger all the way down through the palm. Heart Forward has been the best single piece of advice I've ever gotten in yoga. It works for posture, and it works for energy, and it works for life. Thank You C, for heart. One video in particular was magical: Seane Corn live from the San Francisco Yoga Conference. Seane talked a lot during her practice, which was strange to me, since I was used to quiet, slow meditations. Her words were strong and powerful, and touched deep emotional places within me. They lent context and intention to the physcial. I also learned to laugh and let loose during Seane's teachings, since at times, with her deep Bronx accent, she reminded me of an Army drill seargeant, and I simply had to break out laughing. Laughing is great yoga. :) Thank you Seane. for meaning. Coming back home to Atlanta, I was drawn to Jai Shanti yoga school, which is truly the heart of yoga practice in Atlanta. So many roads led to Jai Shanti! I was literally guided there by no less than 5 different paths, all converging. So one morning, I showed up for class bright and early at 8am. It was great! Our teacher was a girl named Sandy, and she was very skilled. Her teaching was so casual, it took me off guard. And then it was fast. And intense. And then just as my legs were about to collapse, it was slow again: child poses and corpse poses were allowed to run their courses, at least 5 minutes each. Thank you Sandy. for fun. My next yoga experience was at the Hoop Convergence in Carrboro NC. By this time I was beginning to see yoga in all life. In otherwords, to move through life as if it was one huge vinyasa flow. What my books had mentioned, but only classes and practice could draw out, was that the *breath*, or pranayama, is the foundation of everything. If you are breathing, ergo, you are alive. I was starting to move through life, intentionally breathing, consciously moving, gracefully flowing. It felt good. This yoga class, my third formal teaching, was led by Sandhi Ferreira, a hooper and teacher of the Jivamukti method from New York. Sandhi was a true expert on alignment, and spoke in detail about micro-adjustments in the muscles and skeleton, which made massive differences in how the poses effected my body. She also helped me realise how much control we have on the granular level, down to working individual muscles in the feet and abdomen which I had never even considered before. Sandhi's intense practice, again intimate with maybe only ten people there, left me in a state of complete bliss. I went to the park afterwards and just laid out and chatted with my new hooper friends. Later during the convergence, Sandhi turned me on to the Flight Manual, a visual reference to acroyoga, also known as partner acrobatics or adagio. I've written separately about this incredible art form; lets just say that it is the funnest practice I have ever encountered, combining trust, balance, strength, and play. Thank you Sandhi for new beginnings! After that I was on yoga fire, and took several more classes with Sandy at Jai Shanti, concluding with a teaching by Bill Huffschmidt, the owner, to the live musical accompaniment of Shimshai. Bill's practice was decievingly simple: during it, I felt even a little unchallenged (it was sorely lacking in my two favorite practices, backbends and inversions)... but the next day, I felt it... and the day after that, and the day after that! These were *deep* muscle sorenesses, near the bones. He truly knew what he was doing! :) Thank you Bill for your care, and all the energy of your wonderful Jai Shanti, and the Thai Massage guidance too! This brings me to the present. My first day in NYC, and with a little pushing, I biked over to Jivamukti School to see what was up. That very minute, Eve was starting an intimate class, me and 5 women. The class began with chanting mantras out of some textbook that everybody but me had, and I thought, "uh oh, what have I gotten myself into?" But Eve was nice, and let us do a call and response, and soon enough we moved from chanting into a fairly vigorous vinyasa flow. The peak of all this was a shoulderstand with coaching to "keep the legs active"... this was new to me; I always used to just kind of stack the bones. And then, as we held our shoulderstand, Eve read passages from the Bhagavad Gita. 3 minutes, 5 minutes, 8 minutes. My legs started to shake. Amazingly, I had never held shoulderstand so long. In the end of class she turned out all the lights and only a single candle glimmered faintly in the back of the room. It was a fairly sublime moment. I closed my eyes and felt like I was flying freely over Hong Kong, as Eve's chants filled the space. Thank you Eve for your firm guidance and powerful voice. Which brings us to the moment. I gleefully bicycled the 12 blocks back home, locked up the bike, sprinted up the stairs, and expressed thanks for the gift of yoga, bike, and life. I have a feeling that Yoga will become more and more of me. So that's the beginning. SuperThanks to all my teachers past and present and future. Stay tuned, fellow travellers :)

Living the Dream

praxis — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 02:28:21 GMT

It all began fairly innocently when my lover at the time asked me if I was indeed following my dreams. [photo credit: Will Rennie -- http://www.flickr.com/photos/willrennie/ ] I'd been working on wordplay algorithms for years at that point, and enjoy playing with sentences in my head, breaking them down, substiuting alternate definitions, phoneme equivalents, recombining syllables, etc... all on the fly. So as I was prone to do, I looked past the surface of the question, and wondered "what if I could actually live as freely and creatively as I do in sleepytime dreamland? What if reality was as malleable as it is there? What if *I* was as malleable?" The company I had been busy with for the past 3 years was all about giving people the power to visualise alternate dimensional overlays upon our "mundane" reality, and to visualize superpowers that they might have, in real time and real space, and in doing so to empower them to imagine, dream, visualize, manifest, and create these magical powers in their every day waking lives. Yeah, that was a mouthful... but its true all the same. "Live you dreams" I have great dreams. Very few nightmares. Good lovemaking, flying, adventure, exploration, drama, passion, you name it. Some of my dreams, some of the most important ones, show me keys to the future, and to my own puzzles and power. The other education I had received was an insight into the works of Carl Jung... I had been priveleged with the gift of learning from several of the true masters in this field, through an organization called Journey into Wholeness. Specifically, Robert Johnson (author of "Heaven and Earth," among others) gave me a deep insight into dream symbolism and interpretation. I can sum it up for you here: Your dreams are messages from your deep unconcious (which I like to think of as my heart and soul) to your conscious mind. They utilize symbols from your memory computer to fabricate stories which have messages embedded in them. Messages that can help you in you waking day. All people, objects, and events in dreams are of a metaphorical nature. Surf the symbol, find the meaning. Robert also schooled me on two key concepts: 1. All sex in dreams is good sex, period. 2. All dreams are purely symbolic, no exceptions... except when they're literal. :) I worked with this model for some time and made what I felt was good progress in interpreting these messages. I developed a personal vocabulary of symbols that seemed to work for me. Then one day, it happened. Big Trouble. "Live you dreams" I did a very simple thing that turned my world upside down and opened up possibilities I had not previously imagined: I applied dream logic interpretations to waking reality, and I started to take my dreams literally. In that moment, the whole world changed. A door was no longer just a door. It was a symbolic threshhold between "here" and "there". A friend was no longer just "that friend"... they represented a construct of forces and messages that I needed to hear, from a certain perspective. In fact, they were mirrors of me, talking to me. Since I made this switch, I've had a lot of time just playing with reality and the interpretation that eventually enters our cerebral cortex. And I've been having a lot of fun consciously and intentionally dreaming, learning new skills in dreamland, and immediately applying them the next "waking" day. This has also given me great courage in the waking world, since I (almost) never die in my dreams, even under great physical duress... this "invincibility" has inspired me to take greater and greater risks in waking reality, and guess what? Minus a few minor bruises and bumps and burns, I'm still here! Ten fingers, ten toes, head still attached to body, breathing deeply. And laughing, and crying, and smiling. :) So, am I living my dream? I must say, Yes.

On the Nature of Thangs / The Curse of Things

praxis — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 05:11:07 GMT

I recently moved. From my apartment. I cursed as I packed my stuff. I cackled loudly as I first threw away, then threw into the back of my truck, my alloy barbells. For a fleeting second of sanity, I saw them for what they were: pure dead weight. *Things* to carry around. So often in the past years I've been brainstorming as to how to be physically fit in a natural, fun way. For a long while I felt rock-climbing was that truth. Climbers are agile, healthy, and fit. But in the end, even with teamwork, it felt like such a solitary sport. Then, a sweetheart showed me a television show called "So you think you can dance?"... we watched Tivo'ed episodes for something like 4 hours straight... and my brain was forever mutated. Simultaneously I was thinking about the possibilities of a new artform called Acro-yoga... soon thereafter my local yoga studio announced classes for that very same artform. Cut to the chase: intense partner dancing and acroyoga is *all* anyone needs to get a great body... its healthy, fun, and seriously physically challenging... perfect combination of strength, flexibility, and balance... yay! All this comes full circle to the concept of "stuff". What is (material) stuff but the "things" we cling to? When I moved from the apartment, I made 5 categories: 1) stuff I boxed up to move with 2) stuff I boxed up to give away to Goodwill 3) stuff I bagged up and threw in the dumpster 4) stuff I couldn't bear to give or throw away -- I burned it in a huge bonfire 5) stuff I couldn't keep or burn or trash or gift -- I tossed it into the bushes; including some serious sculpture I had cast in aluminum, and a bunch of bones. Oh well. That was 3 months ago. Since then, I have travelled a lot, and lived on reasonable means. I've realised that I need very little to thrive on. Even the critical boxes I marked "KEEP - OPEN NOW", I left unopened for the most part, and guess what? I don't miss em. So here, for my own and your benefit, is my conclusion of what's really needed in life: 1) toothbrush 2) cash 3) sunglasses Anything else? Didn't think so. The biggest thing I miss is my books... and I realise, pretty soon, there are only two things I need for that: 1) laptop computer 2) kindle 3) cellphone Allright, that's six things I need. I'm set. As for the rest, as the Marines say "Let God sort 'em out"

Hoop Dreams

praxis — Mon, 26 May 2008 15:37:31 GMT

Just nights before the Hoop Convergence, I had my very first hoop dream... and it was wonderful! In my dream, I was laying atop two large hoops, like a venn diagram, with my arms outstretched, and I was flying, supported by the levitating hoops... right through the clouds!!! I could gently torque and twist my body to steer, pitch, yaw, ascent, descend, etc... suddenly the clouds parted, and the Pan America tower and the Golden Gate bridge came into view far below... I had flown all the way to San Francisco, my favorite positive energy city in the whole wide world! At HC, I met Annie (of AnnieLand.net) and related this dream to her... she proceeded to tell me about astral travel and how eventually I'd be able to fly without the hoops... how awesomely exciting! Since then I've made a regular practice of meditating towards flight as I nod off to sleep, with mixed results. Some nights, nothing, some nights, excellent entry with long long anti-gravity leaps... even some minor lotus style levitations. Progress is slow and steady. :) I haven't, however, had any more hoop dreams, that is until last night. Several days ago I tore open my fire hoop from Shakti at Kaivalya Hoops (http://www.kaivalyahoopdancers.com/); a true engineering marvel, light and sturdy (and bouncy! :) I've been practicing a lot with it since it is both small diameter and relatively heavy (compared to normal hoops of that size), so it builds strength *and* I can rotate it slowly and powerfully. One of the moves that really fascinated me at HC was Spiral's perfect "transporter", basically a continuous lift and drop of the hoop, keeping it rotating along a perfectly extruded vertical cylinder (oh how I long for the forthcoming Hoopcabulary webwiki reference!) I struggled with this move over the past few days and simply couldn't figure out how to transfer it between hands without turning into a human pretzel. Well, last night, in dreamstate, I was given the information I needed! I was dreaming, and I woke up. I was at some burn festival, and there was a girl demonstrating that very move. I noted carefully that she passed it from one hand to the other behind the back on the downstroke. I vowed to practice this move as soon as I got my hands on a hoop. Next thing I knew, I woke up (second layer :)! There I was in my bedroom... I threw on some pants, ran outside, got my hoop, and tried it. After 20 minutes of practice, I got it, and was hollering with pure blissful joy! I look forward to continued dream time instruction in the mysteries of the hoop! Hooray!

My History of Fire, Part 1

praxis — Sat, 17 May 2008 05:42:38 GMT

[photo: flame swallowing in Tahiti, 1997] My recent experiences with the fire element have led me to look back, and to trace this specific thread through my life. So here, in a single spot, is the story of how I came to know the flame. BACKGROUND When I was a child, my family went camping all the time. I loved it. We went to national parks, we went to local parks, we went to the Rockies, and most favorite of all, we went up north to the Boundary Waters, also called the Quetico. In paralell to my family camping, I joined a very active Boy Scout troop, and we had a monthly camping trip. Every summer we went to scout camp. My favorite memory of all from scout camp was a merit badge called "Wilderness Survival". Here, I finally got to go one on one in the wild. After 5 days of studying, on the fifth day we were handed a piece of aluminum foil, a raw lump of hamburger, and a single match. All we could bring with us was a knife, a sleeping bag, and the clothes on our bodies. We were then sent out into the wilderness, alone, and told to make it through the night. We were to be graded; the more we thrived, in contrast to mere survival, the better we would score. The unstated goals were: find a bunch of edible plants to garnish your burger with; build a waterproof shelter; build a fire; keep warm through the night. THE ONE MATCH FIRE I found some cat-tail roots, cleaned and cut them, and fashioned my foil into a bowl in order to cook them up like onions. Here's where the fire comes in. I built my fire with one match. This is a true art, one gained though patience. The trick to a one match fire is to very patiently and carefully choose your kindling; it needs to be very thin, and very dry. The other trick, especially when the woods are damp, is to make shavings of deadwood with your knife. Even when the bark is wet, the inside of old wood is the best kindling you can get. When it is shaved, it lights like magic. This takes time. That's fine. In a survival game, time is in abundance. So I took about 30 minutes to build my kindling, to carefully select my wood, to sort it by size, and sure enough, I had a roaring flame soon enough. This began my journey with the flame. The year was 1985. TESTING THE FLAME Two years later I was in deep search of lifes meaning. To that end, I came under the spell of a strange guru. One of his popular demonstrations of faith consisted of him holding his hand over an open candle flame for prolonged periods of time, then pulling it up, perfectly pink and healthy. He told us that once we had good control of our energy, that we could do the same. We were to simply ignore the pain and visualize healthiness, and we would be immune to the flame. One night I grew impatient with these demonstrations and set about to test myself. So, I lit a candle, and after a while, summoned my will, and held my hand over it, palm down. Ten seconds passed, then twenty, thirty... I have no idea how long I actually held my hand there, it hurt and I saw through the pain, but at some point I started to smell the burning flesh. I drew my hand away and turned it over. To my utter astonishment, my flesh was charred and burned. In the following hours, the entire palm of my hand swelled up like a balloon. It didn't help that my day job was as a dishwasher in an Italian restaurant. The wound took a long time to heal. I still have a significant scar in the middle of my palm today. THE BIG FIRE Ten years passed. In that time, I left the guru, met a girl, and got engaged. And then, I heard about this weird party in the desert called Burning Man. My fiance agreed to go, so a month later, we packed up our tent and headed for the desert. The year was 1997. We got there late Friday night. Over the next 24 hours I had one magic mushroom and one fifth of tequila. The mushroom saved my life. The tequila near killed me. Nonetheless, this was my intiation into the real fire of life: the burning passion of the heart. EATING THE FIRE We went on our honeymoon one month after Burning Man. We chose Tahiti. I wanted a remote primitive island. She wanted a beach resort. We compromised on Tahiti. We started on Huahine, which truly was a primitive, 99% untouched island paradise. We stayed in a straw hut on a pristine beach which we rented for $400 a night. One mile down the road was a tent friendly campsite which rented for $10 a night. Whatever. It was heady days in 1997. Four days later we moved to Moorea, a slightly more developed island. We signed up for an event to visit a "native village". I was skeptical, thinking we would see Epcot center. That skepticism wore away as soon as we wandered into the tattooists hut. Our guide explained that when Tahitan men get tattoos, they go into the shaman's hut, explain to him the reason they want the tattoo, and then let the artist do his thing. For instance, a man might say: "I just had a baby boy." and the tattooist might place a small circle on his arm. Or he might say "I just broke up with my wife." and the tattooist might spend 8 hours covering his entire leg. The was no stencils or preplanning; this was improvisational, shamanic healing with ink. When we entered the hut, they were in session. And again to my astonishment, there was no rubber gloves or electric needle machines. There was a man, and a little hammer, and some sharp bone combs, and ink on a plate, and there was a man lyin down... and there was blood, blood, blood everywhere. That moment, I knew that sometime in my life I would have to return to Tahiti, to get a tattoo like that. It felt like the right way to get ink. After our dinner, we got to see the fire show. It was an opera performed with fire. At one point, they asked for a volunteer from the audience. I raised my hand immediately and soon found myself in a circle of natives, with the chieftan next to me with a torch. Before I knew what was happening, he told me to lean back my head and open my mouth. I did, and to my sheer terror, he promptly laid that torch down right down onto my mouth, so hot I could feel my whole face burning. I thought, "We're not in Disney anymore; this is the real deal!". Before I knew it the trial was over, someone handed me a cool damp rag for my face, and the crowd burst into applause. That was my first ritual burn of intimacy. It was 1997. THE HUGE BURN I loved Burning Man and what it meant to me, and resolved to go every year, and to help foster that vibe, to build that community. I incorporated the principles of participation into business talks. I moved to San Francisco. I fathered two children. But by 2003, my worlds were colliding. On one hand I had the suburban fantasy: a big house, kids, a huge SUV, money to pay the bills. On the other hand, this lifestyle wasn't jibing with my ideology. I organized anarchist journalist squadrons and helped with anti-war rallies. In 2003, I went to Burning Man without my wife. She was to join me 6 days later. When she arrived, I was in full party swing mode. She promptly got dehydration sickness. It was the night of the burn. We sat in camp, watchin g it from afar. Thank God. I had always witnessed the immolation from more or less front row seats. Now, seeing it from a mile or so back, I realised just how huge that fire was. Our mouths gaped open as we saw the black cloud raise higher and higher, miles into the sky, blocking out the stars in all directions. It was truly apocalyptic. That was the biggest fire I'd ever seen in my life. That was 2003. My wife went to bed, and I went out into the night. But the events of that night are a story for another time. PLAYING WITH FIRE Many of you are familiar with an intimate little burn in the Southeast called Transformus. Despite recent complications and drama involving who will actually be participating this year, for the past 4 years its been a place of pure positivity and magic in my life and the lives of many others. This past year I arrived appropriately early, and most importantly, alone. For the first time in 10 years, I was coming to a burn without a partner or friend to sleep with. And that was just fine by me. On the very first night, I met Chw and some of his friends. As these things tend to do, it got wild fast. By midnight we decided it would be fun to start blowing lighted kerosene from our mouths. If I'm anything, its someone who believes in the power of risk and reward. I watched two people do it, then was asked "wanna try?" Of course! I received a brief safety lesson, and soon enough, had the fuel in my mouth and the torch in my hand. The, BOOM! I spit the fuel into the air, igniting a huge plume of flame. The noise and the heat were exhilirating! This, then, was my formal indoctrination into the fire. It was the first time in my life I had really "played" with fire in a conscious, controlled manner... and it felt GREAT! Luckily there was plenty of water and whiskey circulating, to get that foul fuel out of my mouth after... the year was 2007. After that, things started to move very quickly. THE STAFF The other great thing that happened at Transformus 2007 was meeting a wonderful spirit named Caroleeena. Over the next 6 months she taught me how to hoop and spin with grace and style and playfulness. She gifted me all my first spinning toys: hoops and poi. One night in her backyard I got to light a fire staff and play with it. Again, the noise and heat were exhilirating. The potential danger of getting burned just added to the fun. THE WALK That same year, I travelled to Burning Man for the ?th time. Like Transformus, I went alone. For some reason, this ended up being the most trying and challenging Burning Man I'd ever participated in. Every year prior had been an all out celebration of life. This year, it felt like a life and death struggle. Much to my happiness, the actual burning of the man was reasonably natural this year, much like a huge bonfire, in contrast to the nuclear explosion of 2003. With a beautiful aesthetic, they had mounted the man on a tripod-like structure built from actual massive tree trunks, some up to 3' in diameter. When the man fell, the tripod collapsed as well, creating what looked like a humongous campfire... the only difference being one of scale: instead of 2' long logs, there were 45' long trees. As this burned down throughout the night, the thickest log lay like a bridge across the fire pit. All I could do was just keep dancing and staring, dancing and staring. I couldn't get the idea of a bridge out of my mind. So finally, in a fit of pure action, I hopped up on one end, and began my trek across. Once I got to the middle, I began to question the logic of my decision. It was very, very, very hot in the middle of the firepit. Flames were licking up on either side of me. I considered turning around and realised that this would actually pose a higher risk than just finishing the crossing. I made it 85% across, lost my footing, and fell, into the burning coals. Ouch! My Keens saved my life, perhaps. I felt my feet Burning, but just kept on walking. I made it out alive. And frustrated, since I had failed. So, 15 minutes later, determined to right the wrong, I once again hopped up to make my crossing. This time, I took it slow and careful. Firmly planting my feet. Simply ignoring the temperature. And, sure enough, mere minutes or hours later, who knows, I was across, ALL the way across, and I hopped happily down onto the cool playa. A stranger handed me a bottle of water, I gulped it down, and headed off into the merry night. Three days later, comfortably back home, I took my first shower and surveyed the damages. Pretty severe third degree burns on my left foot (the playa dust had incredibly fused with the raw flesh, effectively cauterizing them). Burnt off my little pinky toe's toenail entirely (it grew back! yay!). And a wonderful first degree burn all up and down my legs, red as a lobster. These are my scars of the Desert Burn of 2007. Scars and reminders of foolishness. THE DANCE Upon my return home, freshly inspired, I started practicing poi intensely -- with the eventual goal of graduating to fire poi, sooner than later. For Christmas, Carolyn gifted me my first set of kevlar poi. I started practicing even harder with these heavier tools. When the time for fire arrived, I would be ready. TO BE CONTINUED...

AcroYoga Trifecta

praxis — Tue, 13 May 2008 13:14:54 GMT

OMG... This past three days has been an incredible whirlwind of physical energy, awareness, exploration and adventure... In a way it was the ATL "echo" of the hoop convergence bliss. On Saturday morning I motivated, got up early, and headed into town for morning Vinyasa Flow Yoga. This is the most natural style (for me) of yoga, since it employs constant flowing and somewhat improvisational movement through the formal asanas, paired with deep pranayama breathing to the rhythmn of the body / chest / spinal movements. Sandy at Jai Shanti is an incredible teacher and one of my favorite aspects of her classes is that following quite vigorous aerobic phases, she really lets you drop into deep child and corpse poses for extended periods... where the mind can just soar! On the way out I noticed a poster for an AcroYoga class, something I've been fascinated with since I first saw it on the playa in 2003. And it was.... tomorrow! Wow! So, 28 hours later, there I was back again at Jai Shanti, with a wonderful group of playful people, perfectly balanced, and we sat in a circle and introduced ourselves by name, by body, and through story of our mother. What a wonderful opening! Then we watched our teachers work through some really fast AY moves, including a full aerial and some things I hadn't seen before. It was so much better than YouTube! I carefully studied each movement of the base and flier and the exact points of contact, trying to osmosis program my brain body to remember... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtK9TtTFcYU Suddenly it was playtime! And immediately, we went into flying, twists, and tractions... I had some great partners and it was completely awesome! So physical, so playful, and so much about communication and pure joy. I got to base a lot of course, but the real highlight was learning how to fly. It was completely liberating and somewhat deliciously unstable at the same time, and it genuinely felt like flying when I closed my eyes and just focused on the balance. At one point I did the full back arch skyward, leading with the heart, and I just broke out into spontaneous laughter... so did my base, and so thank god the spotter was attentive! Ha ha hee! :) After each AY set, the flyer gives the base some leg love and Thai massage, which ended up being so important and bonding. I never quite understood that part before and now I see it is the reciprocation of the gift, and sharing of energy. By the end of the 2 hours, my legs were SHOT, even though most of it was "bone stacking". Everyone was clearly energized. James was there too and that was a welcome familiar face to share the energy with. After class I got to meet Bill, the owner of the studio, and he invited me to his Thai massage class the following evening. Go figure. :) 28 hours later, I was back at Jai Shanti for Thai Massage 101, to complete my intensive training (fully by providence!). For 3 hours we partnered up and performed Thai massage on eachother. All our blankets were aimed toward the center and the pleasure energy in the room was so powerful it just flowed like magic. Thai massage is like yoga for two, with only one person exerting the physical force: in otherwords, the reciever makes their body completely limp, and the giver uses the recievers body like a prop in yoga, applying their full weight in a rhytmic rocking fashion to all parts of their body. One of the simplest and most intense parts was doing toe raises while standing on the recievers feet. In otherwords, the reciever lays face down on the mat with their feet gently spread and their toes pointed inward. The giver literally stands atop their feet, heels to their toes, and applies their full body weight to the soles of the feet. Nice! So that did it. Legend tells that AcroYoga is the fusion of three forms: Yoga, Acrobatics, and Thai Massage. Now that the training has begun, let the fun flow! At present my body is happily breathing in recovery and rest mode. I'm sure the muscles are being reprogrammed as I write. Can you see the smile on my face? :D

Hoop Convergence -- Blissful Perfection!

praxis — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 00:35:42 GMT

Just got back from the first ever Hoop Convergence in Carrboro North Cackalackee... I feel happier today than I have ever in my life! Spending 5 days with some of the most joyous, beautiful, healthy people on the planet was healing in SOOOO many ways. Classes and hooping and yoga and sharing and dancing and acroyoga and burning from 8:00am every morning (well, *almost* every morning :) to the wee hours of the deep night... at times overwhelming, at times exhausting, and always full of wonder!... and so many TOYS! :) I discovered many new things about myself and made new friends with so many wonderful people from all over the USA... all within the circle of the hoop. Now back home, my dreams are filled with hoops and happiness and promise of the present and a blissful future. Never has a changepoint felt so real in my life. I even had a dream vision where a dear friend came to me and said "now you have suffered, now you can be joyous. The pain of your mother is gone. Be well!" And I woke up right then, and I FELT it! THANK YOU to every one of you wonderful ALIVE spirits that graced me with attention and conversation and education and light this past week. Life will never be the same again. Blessings, +h3ory

update

praxis — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 19:49:56 GMT

This weekend, I'm packing up my shit. For some reason, every other box I pack, I start to cry. Maybe its the (1980s and 1990s) music I'm playing, that makes me nostalgic. Maybe its just seeing the books (1000s) I won't see again until I get my castle. Maybe its just processing. Whatever it is, living here has been hell. While I lived here, I processed the death of my mother, the abandonment of my family (PlayMotion), and the divorce of my first wife. And basically, a disillusionment with life as I idealistically thought it should be: monogamy, true love, happily ever after, etc. I leave here with no real destination. I've started to investigate NYC real estate (exciting! terrifying! ecstasy! fear! wonder!), and I've considered three core paths: 1. move in with dad. mom died 2 years ago, dad has a big house (Wash DC) and is lonely and needs help, I could move in there, have free rent, make train trips to NYC to explore neighborhoods and leases, play cool at the beach house whenever the gas money appeared. :) 2. move in with cool kids ATL. 3. buy an RV (thanks Danielle for even opening my mind to this!) I've been looking on eBay, and am constantly reminded of AzureBlue's journey, where he (father) cashed in all his savings, and bought a one way ticket to Oregon to pick up a classy SilverLine bus that he bought on eBay spontaneously for $10k. That's enticing. Thinking about it. Daring. Adventurous. risky. hm,,mm,,,m,,,mmmmmmm,,..,.. Those are my choices as I see them, for interim. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have a completely independent *choice*. This is an intimidating proposition. I have rallied and rebelled against every form of authority for 30+ years, and now, I have truly ultimate freedom to choose whatever future want... and guess what? Right now, I have the effects of a neurotoxin on my brain... I feel unable to move. No worries, though. The Uni-Verse is guiding me. FULLY CAPABLE OF ANYTHING I have only the Intimidating Question Of CHOICE VIA CON DIOS

Humbled To Psychic Reality

praxis — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 23:57:33 GMT

FUCK! I just received the deepest wound ever in my life. In an act of complet karmic justice, this wound was self inflicted. I thought I had felt pain before. I've been knocked unconcious (twice) through impacts to the eye. With lood. I've been kicked, cut, punched and maced. But never, NEVER, have I experienced so much pain that I needed to keel over and puke like a woman in labor. NEVER> Until, TOINGHT. It happened with a super testosterone fueled badass Poi set. Set to Eminem. My favorite God of White Anger. I was so happuy with my angry spinning,that I rewound the song and set up the video camera. I will speak no more. The video speaks for itself. Much karmic implications. Much mediation willfollow. For now, its raw. I am still buckled over and moaining, 30 minutes later. Fuck Damn, that HURT. In the amazing style of Japanese anime, after all my bile was thrown up, up came a small solid black object. The pain, as it were. the demon. I hope its gone. For good. Peace. FUCK! Ende

Haring Hoops! A Coffee Table Tribute by GBR

praxis — Tue, 08 Jan 2008 02:37:01 GMT

Just finished reading "Keith Haring: The Authorized Biography", by Gruen. It is a well told story, expertly spliced together as transcripts from hundreds of interviews, both with Kieth himself, and with his friends, family, and collaborators. The man was DRIVEN! I think the book is best summed up by a quote from his sister: "I learned a lot from my big brother: That a wall was meant to be drawn on, a Saturday night was meant for partying, and that life is meant for celebrating!" -- Kay Haring Luckily I had a schweeet companion volume which I had picked up at the SFMOMA bookstore 5 years ago and honestly not even really looked at seriously until now: Kieth Haring: Whitney Museum of American Art, a catalog, curated by Elisabeth Sussman. It has gorgeous huge full color reprints of many of his works, most of which are in private collections or even lost! The most incredible thing (to me) about Haring was his way of opening an exhibit. Throughout the world, no matter where it was (Tokyo, Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin), he would arrive about 5 days prior to the opening, and ALL WORK DISPLAYED he would paint right there and then, on site, in a completely manic energy drive to the finish line. I'm looking for a video of him in action... can anybody recommend a good one?

as above, so below

praxis — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 00:30:36 GMT

my apartment is a real mess. the living room is full of boxes... the unclassified detritus from 30 years of collection. I have been struggling for 14 days to try and purge this stuff. every time i throw out a box, i breath deeper, and feel so good because i can move more freely through the psychic and physical space of my home. and yet... these last boxes linger. they sit there, and stare back at me. objects. plastic, paper, notes scribbled, toys long ago forgotten, these things i decided to keep: - tools - books (well, the good ones) - music - musical instruments (the ones that aren't broken) - videotapes i shot - photographs - my laptop - sound systems - art materials aside from that, things are on their way out. thats that. i think buddhists take vows of renunciation where they leave behind all their material possessions. this sounds like smartness.

the nobility of albums

praxis — Thu, 13 Dec 2007 18:03:23 GMT

For the past 5 years I've listened exclusively to a massive hard drive where I ripped all my CDs to in the early days. Problem is, no iPod would hold that much (1000+ CDs), and sometimes my hard drive wasn't attached to my laptop, and I never figured out how to move my iTunes library from computer to computer, and the DRM on new music I bought didn't translate, etc etc etc So now I've just finished moving all my stuff into my apartment, and along came 4 big boxes full of... those 1000 CDs stored away so long ago. I slowly started to unpack and sort them on shelves, and one by one I started to play them. Oh, what joy! First of all I actually get to see all the albums at once, without having to turn or flip or scroll or "coverflow". Then I get to pick one and see the pretty art, not just the cover but the imprint too (Brothers in Arms is a nice one...) Not having a "next random" button actually lets me hear the album in context, as it was intended. And knowing that a physical disc is in there spinning round and round (shout out to Ratt!) helps me keep the stability to listen all the way through. That said, here are my tributes to the first CDs I've dug up and enjoyed so far: * Pete Townshend -- Empty Glass -- one of the best solo efforts EVER * Kate Bush -- The Whole Story -- girl can sing * Hildegard Von Bingen -- Canticles of Ecstasy <-- this medievil woman was incredible, wikipedia her! * Sarah Mclaughlin -- Fumbling towards Ecstasy and lest we forget: * Asia -- Heat of the Moment! :) Next: find a 33rpm record player so I can play my "Best of Metal Blade, Volume I" compilation which prolly never made it to CD, natch!

I was schooled...

praxis — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 05:54:33 GMT

YES, I was schooled. In the great play called Life, I had two scientists cast as the role of Mother and Father. "Creationism" and "Flat Earth" were two very bad jokes in my family. Now with my investigations of Aboriginal Creation Stories, Design, and "What happened 'BEFORE' the Big Bang", I start to like Intelligent Design more and more and more... with studies of Quantum Mechanics, Non-Euclidean Geometry, and Eintein's Theory of General Relativity, I begin to appreciate more and more, the IRrelevance of a Flat Earth vs. a Round Earth. Space? Time? Whatever. We are Here. We are Now. We Are. We. Be. --- Present Day. Skipped School Completely Skipped College. Grad School. Entered the SOHK, and 7th Mystery School, at and aEarly aEge. So here I am, spinning Poi. And for the first time in 25 years, I actually THINK, FEEL about * electron orbits * protein folding * planetary orbits * galactic movements And for the first time, instead of simply *theorizing*, and *visualising*, and *writing computer code* to emulate these primary forces: * gravity * electromagnetism * attraction, * and repulsion I am LIVING them, I can FEEL them, they are LIVING forces and CONSCIOUS beings, Attached to the TIPS OF MY FINGERS... As I spin more and more, I can so FEEL the quarks, electrons, cells, planets, solar systems, galaxies, MOVING within INSIDE and without OUTSIDE of my soul, my body, my existence in this universe. That's all. C'ya.

Maiden Voyage

praxis — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 05:41:01 GMT

Tonight Max called me home to witness the maiden voyage of the SS Anita... a paper ship augmented cleverly with aluminum siding, toothpick mast, and tissue paper sail, propelled by magical breath power. I took the opportunity to reclaim my massive 150 pound 36" NTSC tube television, as much an artifact of the 20th century as may exist. This MFin beast of bigscreen kicked my ever loving ass from living room to street, from street to truckbed, from truck to lawn to sidewalk to home, and finally, from floor to TV stand. Right before the TV stand, I paused to observe the backplate, which, once installed, would never be viewed again. In full anticipation of the "Made in China" emblem, I prepared to ask forgiveness for bringing more slave labor into my house. To my utter amazement, what did I find? "Made in Bloomington, Indiana"... I almost fell over backwards on my drunken ass absorbing that. This beast is the one significant material object I got out of my divorce... and it was made in, it was maiden, it sailed forth from, it was BUILT, in the same quaint lil college town, that Hoosier place, that beloved village, Bloomington, THAT I WAS BORN IN. So my TV and the Dalai Lama share a connection. Wow.

Sermon on the Mount 2.0

praxis — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 21:46:22 GMT

Welcome to the 21st century of Compassion. The Dalai Lama is in Atlanta. Life is Suffering. Begin to Learn. I knew this because Carolyn had told me with much excitement the night prior, and that excitement was contagious. Even with such positive drive, I could not be stopped me from sleeping in late, late, late... next I got a text message from Alyson at 12:34 which gave me the schedule and another bump of encouragement... music starts at 1pm, His Holiness comes on at 4pm. I promptly went back to sleep (to be fair, I hadn't gone to bed until 4 am-ish). I woke from a dream where I had determined that if I awoke after 2pm, I would drive... before 2, and I would take the subway. It was 2:37pm. I skipped a shower, threw on some clothes, and sped onto the highway. Divine magnetism pulled me off the exit ramp to the northernmost subway station. This surprised me, as every other time I had intended to take the subway, I'd finally said "fuck it" and jammed on the gas. But this time, I felt I had to do what was good for the planet. As I took the $7 parking ticket, I thought about how it cost more to take the subway than to drive. Oh well, done is done. Here we go. Made it into downtown with 15 minutes to spare, which gave me good enough time to walk, not run, to the park. I am a big believer in walking meditatively. It is exercise, it moves your body, it gives you time to think, it lets you experience the visual world at a natural pace. I walked to the park and had brief conversations with several interesting people who were walking that direction for the same reason as me. At the gate, I was nearly thwarted due to very high security at the event, with a single controlled access point to the entire park. I had my big telephoto with me and a brute at the gate turned me around and said first "no interchangeable lenses, sorry buddy". I told him it was a fixed lens digital camera, whereupon he upgraded his threat to "no recording devices inside the park"... I thought about arguing the point of every friggin cellphone which had a built in camera, and decided instead to take the path of least resistance, and look for another entrance... to my dismay, there was none. I successfully snuck past the brute on the third time around, but then there were full body pat downs at the end of the queue, and I felt my chances of all this slipping away fast. Then the universe intervened, gave me an opportunity: a big black security dude in a parallel lane started heckling our lane for following the herd and standing dumbly in line when his lane was wide open and free. He called out to no-one in particular: "what can you ever expect from life if you follow the herd and don't take chances?" I took the cue without hesitation and literally pole vaulted over the police barrier, immediately advancing to the front. This got a chuckle (that crazy dude with the mohawk!) and a smile from the announcer. I walked by smiling, but then he said "you've still gotta be searched, brother." I spread out, he gestured to my jacket bundle, where my big camera was neatly concealed... i thought i was doomed YET AGAIN, but when i opened it to show him the lens he quickly closed it and said "stay cool and get in there man. No chicka chicka boom, right?" It took me a second to get that he was speaking of explosives, and as soon as I got it I said "right!" and moved past with a "thank you!", YAY! breath easy, make maximum distance between me and the entrance, I would indeed hear the Dalai Lama speak this day. --- As I entered, I was greeted by a crowd several thousand strong, sitting at peace on the gently sloping lawn. Towards the back, twenty or so beautiful people held their own generous spaces nicely and sat, spines erect, hands in mudras, eyes closed, in deep meditative lotus forms. This perfectly set the tone and the entry as I descended closer to the stage. A superlarge, superbright LED screen (we called them JumboTrons back in the day) shows a sand mandala with the ominous words "the visit" underneath... this has all the trappings of a serious rock concert and I wonder aloud whether the great throng will be screaming and frolicking and putting their lighters in the air for an encore once HH (His Holiness) himself takes the stage. --- After all that nervousness, I had indeed arrived with perfect timing; everything had been delayed by about 30 minutes, so I got to hear the tail end of the last band play as I danced and negotiated my way up close to the stage for a good patch of grass to sit in. all events surrounding his speech were perfect. It was an overcast day and they had built a large stage at the lower end of the park which is a long sloping lawn of over 16 acres with paved walkways dividing sections. Thousands of people sat, many barefoot and in lotus position and on blankets... it felt to me completely like it must have been to see Jesus give the sermon on the mount, it just had that energy and electricity in the air. (except that that dude didn't have audio amplification, natch) They purified the stage (my description, not theirs) with an incredible costumed ritual dance and then strong deep chanting and some kind of drumming with digerdoo type horn whose bass literally shook the video footage right off the big screen... awesome! I could feel the energy course though my body as this went on. I learned in the introductions that His Holiness is recognized as the present incarnation of Avalokitesvara, (Quan Yin), with whom I have a deep personal connection... That's pretty cool! (s)he is the manifestation of the spirit of compassion, the only feminine of the Bodhisattvas (cue Steely Dan, please) --- his Holiness (HH from here on) opened with a joke about the weather, and it immediately humanized him and caused me to laugh. This is so cool! Talking about heady spiritual heavy earth shattering stuff, and my first reaction is laughter. yay! He went on to speak a bit about his acceptance of a professorship for Emory University, his first formal affiliation with any university in the world. in this role he will teach emory students every year in a study abroad program in dharamsala (north india)... I so want to participate in that! Is 38 too late to go "back to school?" Never! :) He also said very clearly that he would be a lame professor due to his inherent laziness (chuckle, Avalokitesvara is lazy, LOL!), which would certainly contribute to a lack of homework assignments. Yay again! Sounds like the perfect prof to me! :) He continued his opening remarks relating about how special Atlanta was to him personally, and how his three favorite model humans in the world were Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Martin Luther King. The heritage of MLK strongly influenced his decision to partner with Emory and warmed his heart to the city of Atlanta. When I first arrived here 6 years ago I stumbled upon the MLK National Historic Site quite rapidly; its a true gem in the city's crown. I took my kids their 3 months later, age 2 and 3 at the time, and it was a profoundly moving experience for all 3 of us. The first part of the opening which really hit home for me was his simple statement that "The universities of the world are doing a wonderful job of training the mind and intellect... they perhaps leave something to be desired in their education of the heart." I was so excited I started clapping, the first interruption of HH speech so far. I was confident in my accolade, and in affirmation, within seconds, thousands were clapping along with me. I felt good. Rock On, His Holiness. Opening remarks concluded, the man launched into the meat (no pun intended) of his speech, about living a life of compassion and humanity. The energy was excellent and he repeated over and over the word "practice" which I of course got a huge kick out of given my recent exploration of the term. Previously the only relationship I had with the word was related to either piano practice (which I loathed) or "practice makes perfect" (which I also didn't care for, since I love nothing more than to go into a new situation completely unprepared, improv my ass off, and come out smiling). The NEW version of practice, though, has come to mean things we participate in each day, with reverence, joy, and presence. Practices are little micro-rituals which bring me peace of mind and deep inner happiness. Yoga, playing musical instruments, cooking, these are all good practices which I relish... but just like the old days, it takes a degree of discipline to begin them. Start Today! (thanks, matt :) The central theme of his teaching was simple and concise: the path to happiness comes through fostering actions of a warm heart, namely, compassion action towards your fellow humans in this journey, the other parts of your self on this planet. I thought about this a lot. Warm heart. Compassion. Key to Happiness. I was constantly amazed by my ability to go off on mental tangents and completely zone out on what HH was saying completely. I made a mental note to myself to learn to focus, to concentrate, to listen without distraction. I realized that I was indeed a bit confused and that a little mental discipline could go a long way in my intentionally chaotic life. Chaos has certainly served me well... I consciously embraced the concept in 2003 with my creation of my feminine alter ego, a wild girl / film director who goes by the name of Entropy. Now that all traces of my past present life have been laid to waste, it does seem time to build upon a new foundation of heart, and that may in fact have some stability. As Nick (www.playpoi.com) would say, "Its time to build a solid foundation of emotional stability" Amen. Throughout his teaching, I really felt the truly international nature of this mans character. He spoke of India and he spoke of China and it was clear that first, they were deep concepts fueled from deeply personal interaction with those cultures, and second, that this man, displaced from his native homeland and leading a global community of spirit, had a generously impartial view of the globe... this so different from our naturally Ameri-centric view. The Dalai Lama could be perhaps the most powerful leader of a virtual community on the planet. He has no homeland, yet he has millions of passionate followers. Think about that. Calling all angels Sometime in no time, I heard him mention for the first time the word "Buddha"... and just as he said that a butterfly flew right over my head and high into the evening sky, the first flying creature I had witnessed that day. I decided at that very moment that I am Buddhist. Conversion felt real. Feelings are reality. The formal teaching concluded and they transitioned to a question and answer session. The first question said all that needed to be said. it was from a 13 year old kid in Canton, Georgia, and read: "I'm born and raised in the Methodist tradition. My friends and family say that I will be killing my God if I come to see you teach. Is this true?" Suddenly I grokked why so many of my southern burner friends (and my parents as well) had a pitchfork up their ass about the Christian Church. Having read the Bible myself, all I had found was peace and good wisdom. In fact I generally considered myself a good Christian (by the principals of the book, that is)... all that said, I've never attended church in my life. Now I was seeing the dark side of southern christian fundamentalism, and man, that question was a kick in the balls! HH answered it with respect and dignity, summing up: "Keep your own faith, have respect for all faiths". That sent a tingle down my spine, which is gods way of telling me: Yes. The talks concluded with some brief comments on the Chinese government, where again I felt HH's truly global, objective perspective. --- Then it was over as suddenly as it had begun, and I stayed still to watch the crowd disperse. It was a wonderful quiet and considered ritual, people moving together in small social circles to talk and recount what they had seen, sensed, heard and felt. I liked the vibe. It was then that a man child named Scotty came up to me and handed me a flier for the Atl-psy event this coming weekend (see http://tribes.tribe.net/atlantapsytrance). I had been on the periphery of this community for some time, it was a perfect place to make the connection. We chatted for a brief while and then went our separate ways. I also got to observe a small crew of kids playing acroyoga, one of my favorite physical practices. :) (www.acroyoga.org) After a bit of observation, watching both great poses and catastrophic, full-of-laughter falls and tumbles, I passed through a veil of bubbles (which I took as a good omen, thanks Bubble Camp!) to make my introduction. i found out they had all come from Charleston, South Carolina and practiced together there. They asked if I had acroyoga partners here in ATL and I said not yet, mine were in Raleigh... With that I took my leave, bought a program, reconnected briefly with Scotty, and hopped on the train back north. On the way home I sat close by to an old black woman who was just a wee bit crazy (like me). She was continually talking to a reflection in the window, or no-one, with a mix of subliminal mumblings, loud outbursts, and erratic physical movements. Ever since my work with Paul at the age of 17 i had realized that crazy people had special insight into other dimensions and higher truths, so naturally I started a conversation with her. As the train pulled into the last stop (my stop), our conversation concluded with her stating: "Man, I finally get to meet a real Buddhist! Awesome!" The robotic parking attendant took my $7 ticket and charged me nothing. The gates opened up. I was free. I drove home under the setting sun with much to contemplate, process and absorb. I feel privileged to have witnessed this teaching, and thank the spirits for directing me to it. I hope that my reportage finds interest in your hearts and minds as well. Walk In Peace and Light Friends, R.N.Theory Fall 2007 --- Postscript: It turns out that Atlanta was the third stop in HH's tour of America, which comprised just four cities total. The visit began in New York, then moved to Washington DC, then here to Atlanta... His holiness' final stop is the small college town of Bloomington, Indiana. Coincidentally, I began life on this beautiful planet in Bloomington, the first son of two college professors. Our family moved from their to to Washington DC at age 5. In 1987, tender age 17, I moved out on my own from DC to Georgia... I returned to Atlanta in 2001 with a little family of my own. Perhaps New York is next? Twilight of the human race... Magic begins Now.

the poetry of technology and the cusp of apocalypse

praxis — Sat, 13 Oct 2007 04:57:28 GMT

many of the techniques used in dynamo originate with the operating systems or in distributed systems research of recent years past DHTs (you know, distributed hash tables), consistent hashing, versioning, vector clocks, quorum, and anti-entropy based recovery and just to throw in some spice: http://youtube.com/watch?v=gT2E2F0DmyE

gifting meme challenge

praxis — Mon, 01 Oct 2007 20:42:55 GMT

this is a wonderful contagion i got from twilight: For the first three people who respond- and re-post - this challenge, I will send you something. It might be something I've made, or something cool from my hidden stash, it might be a mix CD - or a rubber duck, a book I think you will enjoy, or something else that is awesome. Whatever it is, I promise that I will get it to you in 30 days or less. The only thing you need to do in order to participate is to be one of the first three to reply to this, AND post this very same thing* - 'cause its fun to give people stuff. :)

PBR 2.0

praxis — Sun, 16 Sep 2007 10:09:32 GMT

There are at least TWO cool things about this 12 fluid ounces of heaven on earth... can you name them?

New Life Begins Here

praxis — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 20:51:36 GMT

God I am so excited... for the first time in a year, I am listening to music and thinking vaguely about the future and getting those blessed tinglies down my spine, which to me mean "ON THE RIGHT PATH, BABY!" Ever since Transformus my life has been opening up like a newly fertilized flower, the possibilities of beauty and hope and adventure surrrounding me at every turn. The Desert Burn was harsh and searing, and nonetheless necessary to remind me that my best work is here in the fertile land of trees and streams. I've quit my job, and in the process of brainstorming my next "career" steps, and it is such an exciting time full of possibilities and raw conceptual energy, my favorite times! (this is the fourth time in my life like this, but the first one i've actually been consciously aware of the pattern, which makes for one FUCK of an empowerment in the raw magic) So, in short, YAY!

Game Design Theory: Care to Playa?

praxis — Fri, 10 Aug 2007 03:51:19 GMT

I have recently started pouring over Game Design literature. To me, it reads like poetry. with chapter headings like "Introducing Rule Breaking" and Emergent Systems" , I'm enthralled. Try this one on for size: "The MAGIC CIRCLE of a game is the space within which a game takes place. Whereas more informal forms of play do not have a distinct boundary, the formalized nature of games makes the magic circle explicit. Within the magic circle, the games rules create a set of MEANINGS for the PLAYERS of a game. These meanings guide the play of the game." continues: "As a SYSTEM, a game can be considered to be OPEN or CLOSED. Considered as a set of rigid RULES, a game is closed. Considered as PLAY, a game is both open and closed. Considered as CULTURE, a game is wide open." So, to bring this all full circle (no pun intended, hah) here's my model for the PLAYa: The gate marks the edge of the Magic Circle. The question is: What GAME are we all playing? A great primer is "A Theory of Fun" by Raph Koster. Raph is one of the leading theorists AND practitioners in the burgeoning field of MMORPGs (massively multiplayer online role playing games)... any of you who engage in World of Warcraft or Second Life owe a lot to his writings. Follow that up with a good dose of "Rules of Play" by Salen & Zimmerman. Mix in solid doses of Harry Potter for flavor. Serve hot.

the dream learning

praxis — Mon, 06 Aug 2007 05:06:48 GMT

last night i got some most excellent guidance in the dream. she wore white, like athena or artemis, with long streaming bands of red trailing behind her in the wind as she spoke softly and deeply her hands moved with such rapidity power, and grace ripping through a series of gesticulations I knew intuitively that these forms were, in a sense, meant to bypass my conscious mind, and that I was receiving the teaching direct from eyes to heart. The movements were the foundation, an alphabet of magical symbols, cast as fast as her graceful hands could change position.... like a master concert pianist, they moved with confidence and the knowing of ages of practice. No sooner had it begun, than it was time to test. I could, literally, steer the entire airship with the proper gesture, channeling the energy, harnessing the wild winds with the powerful movement of my hand in the penetrating gesture. She moved her ship nimbly, with creativity and cunning. Just as I was revelling in the new powers, she swerved into a hyperdimensional shortcut I hadn't even considered previously. But what the hell. We may end up in the abyss, I thought, but we may just get to heaven. Taking my chances, I guided my newly christened ship right behind, matching her move for move. Now this and that was flying fun! Back in the waking world, with a little googlin, I learned that these spells are called "mudras", and there is a solid foundation of their vocabulary and powers going back thousands of years. Good thing. The portal is open... let the magic begin! youtube: daft hands