Hero

 

Hero

Our love

Of the superhuman

The warrior kicking ass

Slaying hordes of evil

In a blur of movement

The dexterity of ecstasy

Rippling outward

To touch the twisted face

Of evil

And set it to rest

The heart beats faster

We feel centered

And powerful

Ourselves

We identify

With the impossible

Strength

The impossible

Grace

Because we carry it

Within us

Protecting the flame

With cupped hands

Shielding the small life

From torrential storm

We don’t need to be told

Of this flame

We just know

And when we see

The hero

Kicking ass

We just know

This is the power

Of our spirit

This tiny flame

That can grow

To a raging cyclone of fire

And dominate

Every aspect of our lives

Enslave us

Bend us to its will

But it does not do that

It burns quietly

Waiting for us

To fan it to life

With our

Intention and breath

We are all

That

But we must all

Come to this conclusion

Alone

Free will

Is the gift

The key

To unlock

The chains

To become the

Indomitable master

Nothing can touch

The calm

At the center

Of the storm

What Is Love?

What Is Love?

What is love but a strong breeze

That enters this spirit infused clay vessel

And defines its volume

Describes its arc and curve

By touching inner space

With invisible hands

Defining that which has no definition

What is love but a river

Flowing ceaselessly into the sea

And the sea ceaselessly accepting

That which is given

And neither the river nor the sea

Holding back for a moment

Not the sea for fear of space

Nor the river for fear of running dry

Love is a gradual unfolding

Like the clouds becoming flush with sunrise

Till all the darkness is driven away

And there is only light

So Hard To Be Natural

So Hard To Be Natural

Why is it so hard to be natural?

It should be the easiest thing in the world

At some point in all of our lives

We were naturals

Never questioning

Just doing

But then gradually this was eroded

As we were encoded with dictums

Told how to be

In ways which were against our being

Then to escape the conflict

The tension created

By dogma and blind belief

Escape in all the fleeting pleasures

Even in the ruddy orange of sunsets

If you count on beauty

It will fail you

Take it in the moment

As it comes

And be glad when it’s gone

Because it can’t last forever

But you can

If you don’t escape

You know the chains around you?

The ones that cut your flesh if you move

Or struggle against them?

Get to know them

Stay put

And understand there is no escape

Live in the moment

And you will see

There is every such thing as eternity

And no such thing as the chains

You forged link by link

In the crucible of your mind

A Prayer For A Sunday

A Prayer For A Sunday

There is a cure for our sickness

This cure need not be administered with prayer

It does not require faith in a higher being

It does not require a strong foundation of belief

It can be administered by the scientific method

A method some would say caused this sickness to begin with

Fighting poison with poison

The cure is simply said

But momentous to execute

A revolution would flow in its wake

Do what is good for the Earth

What is good for all other forms of life

Including the rocks and the water that rushes over them

For they have souls too

Do this, say no to destruction and waste

And yes to balance

Yes to helping all life flourish

We should grow up

And be the stewards we were made to be

Then everything will be a prayer

Faith will be unquestioned

Because it will be a seed

Sprouted from each individual’s heart

As they tend the Earth with their love

And sow it with belief

 

To Beat The Birds

To Beat The Birds

I wore a face that was not my face

The muscles tensed and gripped

In ways they were not designed for

Long hours of frowning in front of a computer

Too many times smiling when nothing was funny

Or the worst, curling the lips at the corners

To sign approval of an act I found despicable

These muscles were meant to express

Love

Hunger

Rage

Kindness

Hilarity

Grief
Wonder

The molds my face understands

And for far too long this face has slipped

Between the deep grooves of Being

And skated along the shallows of conformity

No more

For I no longer recognize the rudimentary lines

And weak boundaries I have been asked to force my face into

It takes too much energy to be nothing, to be subservient, to follow the program

For I am too strong to hold myself down

I give my face permission to act as it will, say what it wants

Take the forms it finds comfortable

And laugh to beat the birds

The Self Drops Free

The Self Drops Free

You relieved me of thoughts of the Self

I held the concept out trembling in my hands

Like a sickly bird that could not fly

For I did not want to let it go

It was everything

This quest for the True Self

Which had become deeply rooted in my mind

Bounding who I am within the confines of mere idea

And ideas don’t exist

They haunt the mind

Taunt it in a whirlwind of whispers

In Your presence

Overwhelmed in the light of wholeness

My hands shook with fear

And I persisted in this fear

As all humans must for change to happen

And my ideas of the Self dropped free

Like brown leaves from a great tree

That serve it no more

Remember

 

Remember

Remember Son. Remember Daughter

The ground upon which you stand

Is not just ground

It is Earth

Connected to Earth

Until it meets the Sea

And then it ends

But only for your feet

The Earth continues

Downward

Through the fathoms

Under the deepest depths

To support the waters

And hold them up

Cradled in the loving palm of Earth

All that water

Remember Son. Remember Daughter

This is the place from which you came

From which all life began

The Earth is unbroken

The continuity of seasons

Can be traced to the time

Before seasons

And this Time too has a Mother and a Father

Just like you Son. Just like you Daughter

You are unbroken

You are whole

And you came from the Sea

 

Offering

 Offering

I made a furrow in the dirt with the tip of my finger and gave you an offering of tobacco. I asked if I could spend some time with you and you said yes without hesitation. I could tell you thought this request strange, as the birds never felt the need to ask.

I settled my back against your trunk, Grandfather, wise with the passing of time, your skin wrinkled and grey like an elephant’s. I took in your oak strength, exchanged breath with you in symbiotic communion, our most ancient vow, our deepest entanglement. I opened my heart because I knew you would accept anything I offered. It is not in your nature to deny. I pleaded for your wisdom and guidance. What should I do? How should I proceed? I stared into your beautiful canopy of sinuous branches, rippling like snakes frozen in time. Your net of verdant spring leaves ensnared my eyes and you spoke into my rapt attention.

You want to know, you want to be sure and have your guarantees but the heart’s path is not one of surety. See how my limbs curve toward the sun, molded by the seasons? I could not know what was to come, drought, storm or sun. I took what came and grew according to my nature. The path of the heart is like a strong wind. You do not fully know your heart yet. You have stepped into the current’s edge where you feel slight breezes and occasional gusts. Go deeper into the wind, follow your intuition, go where the air quickens, ever go towards that, using all your body to feel the source. One day you will enter the mighty flow, the main artery of wind and you will unfurl your heart and use it as a sail and you will not travel according to plan nor to a set of coordinates but according to a higher plan that has already been laid out for you, the magnetic north of your being. Do not seek the knowable way. Do not seek the safety of the clear path. If you can see the result and work towards the result than you are already at the end and there can be no journey. There will only be the passage of time. Be afraid and go with your heart, cling to it as your center for where it leads is where you are meant to be.

The net released, vision faded and I traced your skin with the swirls of my fingertips and gave thanks.

The Creation of Love

The Creation of Love

I think it can be agreed that a creation is the product of a creator. It stands to reason that music was generated by the mind of a composer and a sculpture was made by the hands of a sculptor. Much can be learned about the nature of the human psyche from the seeming obviousness of these statements because upon analysis these statements are in fact, completely false. The inherent flaw these statements contain is the supposition that we created ourselves and the world around us. This is the thinking of a person living under the curse of insanity for we clearly did not create the air and vibrational laws through which music moves nor did we create the tree from which the sculpture is made. I don’t even want to bring who this creator was or is, whether this creator is a who or what a he or a she or an it or a set of laws – this argument does not require knowing what created all we see and know, it simply requires acknowledgment that humans did not design the mountains nor did we dream of the ocean and its waves and make them come to be. We had nothing to do with this. In fact, as far as the rational sphere can tell – the oceans were around far before humans even existed. Now that we have established this, what then does it say about us that we make wild and insane and bold statements like, “Isn’t he a wonderful composer?” It says we are living a lie of the grandest proportions. It says we have the utter hubris to lay claim to everything we see, this is our Kingdom and we rule and do with it as we see fit. Look around you. How is the management of this Kingdom of yours going? Your greatest assets are disappearing. What are the two things you must have? One, if you go without it for minutes, you die and the other if you go without it for days, you die. Air and water. How’s the air and water in your neighborhood? What do you think about going down to the local river and taking a drink? Would you be afraid to do such a thing? Where are the trees that supply your oxygen? We are cutting them down at an alarming rate and poisoning our waters, literally tainting our blood and asphyxiating ourselves. This is what happens when we harbor the insane notion that this is our Kingdom and we are the creators of our destiny. And what is to blame for this deadly and erroneous judgment? The ego. It must protect itself. And the only way it can protect itself is with lies because the ego itself is a lie. It whispers to you that you are a creator, a painter of beautiful images but I ask, did you create color and the materials you paint with? Did you construct the eyes that behold? Everything belongs to the true creator of this universe. Humans are simply a conduit for the miracle we participate in, nothing owned, everything given. You say but the ego is necessary! I did not ask for my ego, I inherited it! And this is true. The ego is necessary for survival…or it used to be. Feelings of dominion, the reservoir of rage, anger, greed, selfishness and fear which is the ego’s small domain, all contributed to help the genes survive, helped our ancestors live. But something happened. Our animal cousins must have no small measure of ego for we are not far from them and we did not arise from nothing. Maybe the difference is not one of intelligence but of perception. Somewhere along the way during our billions of years of journeying through time we boldly leapt from the peace of living in harmony to the dis-ease of living with the lie we are masters. Is this not the greatest evil, the very devil not just in your midst but embedded in the very core of your perception? The one who tells you you’re special, you’re different, you deserve more? And where has this gotten us as a species? Lonely, depressed, fractured, insane and desperate people who long for the peace of harmony but don’t even know how to ask for it.

There is one act of creation that has been given to us that is truly our Kingdom. And how blessed we are that it is the highest act of creation. This act of creation is love. It is our creative birthright, one we are all born with and all with equal capacity and measure. If everything we create is the result of and reliant upon the context into which we are born then truly the feeling of love is ours and ours alone. This feeling generated by the life which is yours can only come from within and is not dependent on nor does it answer to others. This is our only one and true creation, absolutely as unique as the individual. And what beauty! What grace it is to give and receive! Love, simple and pure and utterly profound. When it is unattached to the ego and selfless, as true love is - it serves to put the ego in its rightful place, as a servant to the higher Self. The result of the alchemization we undergo in the peace of love is communion. Understanding that we are no different than our brothers and sisters, that we are each inherently the same, children of the cosmos, which is what Father Sun in the sky reminds us of, a perfect circle, without beginning or end, ceaselessly giving off light and heat, always providing to everyone and everything without reservation or judgment. We are also children of our Mother Earth, all of us participants in the great web of life. The miraculous property of love is that it helps you realize you are not alone, you are not separate from the water or the trees nor indeed any living thing. When you see the world in this light, as it actually is, then you live in harmony because you are no longer perceiving yourself as outside this web, this magnificent system…we have a word for feeling outside this web of life and this word is hell. When one loves and removes themselves voluntarily from hell and it is voluntary and it can be done at any time for hell is an illusion, this separateness, it does not exist, even in the warrens of the most fetid city, we are still not separate, we are still tied to this web. But look what happens to this web when too many of us are living in hell, living out of the ego, sickness spreads to places we don’t even know about. Trees are felled. Mountains literally razed and waters rendered undrinkable and sterile with toxins. We need to claim our birthright and become the creators we are and live in harmony and love and this will mean we treat our cousins and brothers and sisters, the animal and plant life, with profound joy and respect for we would cherish them as our teachers and our providers and we would care for them as we care for ourselves, not look upon them as objects to be used as we will. Then there will be harmony and the deep peace that comes with it. Our waterways and air will be pure our forests will thrive because we will be thriving, in love and gratitude and honor.

Wild Beast

Wild Beast

You’re being stalked by a wild beast

If you stop and listen in the stillness

You can hear it sniffing the air

For your scent

When this beast catches your essence on the wind

Mingled with moss and trees

And the feathers of birds

It knows it will surely devour you

Don’t fight the inevitable

If you keep running

And trying to lose yourself in images

And the flickering desires they kindle within

You’ll only make it worse

The beast will flay you with such exquisite mastery

You won’t even feel it

And one day you’ll wake up and realize

You have no skin

And you’ll wonder how you managed to continue

Perhaps the heart isn’t subject to gravity

And it just keeps going in the direction it was set

The spirit is a master oarsman

Change direction

Get it over with

Follow the musty scent and low growl and

Throw yourself at your doom

Be torn to shreds by its great claws

Listen to the wisdom of its roar as you suffer

The ancient pains of dismemberment

And know it is your mind that cares

When it’s all over and the beast has done its work

Ask yourself

How can it be that I am still here?

I am no longer running because

I no longer have anything to protect

I am an empty vessel filled with bottomless love

Then you see the beast wears a mark

And this mark is your name

You come to understand this beast is your savior and ally

Because it only hungers for that which need not be

 

In Your Hands

In Your Hands

I placed myself in your hands
And didn’t even know it
Looking back
I realize
Your great hands rose up from the ground
And scooped me up
In your cornucopian fingers
Like a gardener does a small plant
Roots and earth and all

I walked a path
Through one of your untouched old places
The vibrations of trees pulsing in my chest
And rising up through my throat
The energy transformed by my being into song
I was so utterly taken
By the great woody beings
Who had stood through countless seasons
Over thousands of years
Adding ring upon ring of wisdom
To the great knobbed fingers

I, a mote to their sense of time
A passing shade flitting within their shadows
Found a quiet place and sat
And sang to you for love
And the woods bore witness
To the rushing of air
As I was swept up in your arms

Echoes

Echoes

We are all echoes, reverberations of a single Being. Everything we perceive is a reflection of a single unity. Imagine a swiftly flowing river of limitless depth, the surface entirely placid as there are no obstructions and no friction to disturb the surface. Now imagine a branch as it penetrates the surface of the water. The current now becomes apparent as the ripples radiate outward, the manifested energy’s properties dictated by the shape and position of the branch. This is you. You are not the branch. The branch is your ego, your error in perception. You are the water. Not a drop or a measure but all of it.

The Best Health Insurance

The Best Health Insurance

The best health insurance known to humanity is to be in balance with yourself and your environment.

The Wisdom of Age

The wisdom of age towers above me
Cloaked in ringed wood
That has seen many seasons
The strength of survival
Becomes Knowledge
Becomes Spirit
Becomes Understanding
Thank you for your lessons
And for letting my awareness
Climb to the top of your boughs
To look out onto a land as yet unseen

Edge The Brightblue Sky

Edge The Brightblue Sky

Standing at the edge the brightblue sky wanting to make its home within the confines of my skull a place to winter to echo all the stored birdsong bent across cranial walls I must leap am about to the intention proceeds the meaning once in air I will know what all that was about the shedding of old energy like stripping away the layers of a silent cocoon nothing around me freedom of unbound direction and I leave the sky behind because my home is not its home and it gives chase and my laughter is encapsulated within the great blue ocean a counterpoint to birds.

 

The Discarded University

The Discarded University

It is a human birthright to live in a state of connection and grace. We are born with an innate ability to communicate and receive messages from our Creator. Some call it the Great Spirit, God, Nature, Buddha-thought, Gaea, Pachamamma…this energy, this all knowing and all loving energy is called by many names but all cultures agree as to where this energy resides and this place is in nature, untouched by human hands. This is rather obvious. Prophets and sages and seekers do not go into the canyons of Manhattan to commune with their Maker, they go out to the wilds, the old places where canopies have overspread the plants beneath and provided the wisdom of shade for thousands of years. This is where a direct line of communication can be established, where messages can be received, if the instrument is ready and sensitive enough. Pachamamma communicates through Her children, through the other life forms we share this Earth with. She sends messages through the plants and whispers to us through the sighing of trees, through the wind in leaves. Those of us who live in cities have been almost entirely cut off from communicating with our Creator. She has no messengers to send. The imprint of the human mind is everywhere. Hard asphalt covers dirt, buildings made in the image of the human mind with all of its shortcomings and constraints, boxy, inelegant, wasteful, crowd upon the eye and fill it to brimming with half-truths and blatant lies. The city as designed for buying and selling, growing rampant with the fertilizer of ego and greed and dire misunderstanding. Pachamamma has been driven out by the hubris of the ego, the false state of the mind that mistakes creation for its own. There isn’t a one of us that doesn’t know there is something drastically wrong. Not one of us is free from the nagging feeling the world we live in is terribly and catastrophically out of balance. We don’t need to do most of what we are doing. We need alignment and healing, we need the loving song of our Mother to bring us back, to reawaken us to what we are. Sacred, holy creatures put here in the ocean of time to learn, to experience and take our place in the great construct that is the expression of the Creator, the web of life. We are here to learn a single lesson and this is all. And how are we to learn if we’ve discarded the university? We’ve surrounded ourselves with a leaded box and are cannibalizing one another with the nightmares we’ve come to believe are true. For many, nightmares have become their birthright. This is false. We need to go back to the old, powerful places, open our senses, let go our false desires and fears, generated by this one-sided construct of the mind and go back to the multifaceted and energetic construct which was made for us. Our home. Our true place. It fills me with a sadness too deep and too hurtful for words to think we can not receive the messages intended for us. There is much to be learned from the singing of birds and the harvesting of fruit. Our true text is the book of nature. Our cousins are the plants and in many ways our progenitors for without them there would be no oxygen to breathe. And what insanity that we cut the trees down for profit. Truly they are our lungs, we are utterly dependent upon them for breath…and we cut them down. What dangerous self-destruction. What is truly frightening is that the Creator, Pachamamma will not be put aside, will not lick Her wounds in the last untouched places, no, She will resort to other means of communication to get through to us. Disaster, flood, famine, pestilence, suffering and war…these are all the products of not being in alignment, of cutting ourselves off from our teacher and savior, cutting ourselves off from the energy that loves us absolutely and made us perfect.

Little Plant

Little Plant

I am a little plant who is seeking the light

Turning my spring-slicked green leaves

Toward the ever-radiant energy

Feed me

Let me take you in

And turn you to the sweetest sugar

Earth-Spirit Matrix 1

Earth-Spirit Matrix 1

This earth is the matrix of material. The earth is a material realm, bound in three dimensions, answering to the confines of matter. This is why we are all here. Spirit answering to matter. This is our challenge. As beings from the dynamic, multidimensional, colorful, spirit realm, to integrate ourselves with matter. Dull, cloddy, colorless, boringly stable, matter. Matter is why we are all here. It is not to forget matter. It is to become matter. The holy breath. Infuse breath into matter. This is why breath is such a potent symbol for us. Breath is the closest we’ve got here for analogy. This is our cross. This is our humility. This is our potential hell or our potentially greatest achievement. If there are levels of spirits/variations…which I assume there are, everyone here must be of the most stalwart and brave to even undertake this journey through matter/time.

The reason why we came here is to be humbled. To affix ourselves to the cross of matter. There is no other choice/nothing other to do. Anything else is to stray. But this is why straying is so easy. Matter is fascinating/must be quite an experience/trip to be bound in three dimensions and in time. The experience of sensation must be incredibly strong for a spirit being. Very pointed and unique. This is why drugs can be a danger for some. If the spirit is already strong, drugs will push them too far to the spirit and cut them off from what they are here to experience.

It is the highest challenge but also the highest joy. If the spirit being can accomplish the crucifixion on the cross of matter, the tree of life, then the spirit can truly know itself. Spirit can’t know itself in wholeness. It must first become fractured/buried and then uncovered to truly feel itself/know itself to be unique. This is what we all strive for and why we came here.

This is why babies feel so strong because the spirit being has been infused in matter but has not yet become fully enmeshed in matter. This is why they glow. This is why old people can glow too…the material is more integrated with the spirit…this is why anyone glows…it is because the spirit is integrated with the flesh. It energizes it. This is why flesh/bodies/the living are such complex systems…it is simply matter’s response to spirit. It is because spirit is so subtle and complex, it compels matter to respond in this way.

This is the fascination with the material, the danger of greed. At heart, base level, every single thing on this planet is a spirit integrating with matter/wanting this union – in an effort to know itself. This deep desire/need to integrate with matter can become confused with the desire to acquire…more…in an effort to fulfill this…alcohol, drugs, sex, goods, food…all of these vices/addictions are tied into this. Everything is a desire to satisfy this deep hunger…but the only way to do it is to give up control, sink into matter, stop fighting it, stop wanting it so damn bad, this toy, this ride, this stimulus…which must be as a thunderbolt to the subtlety of the spirit realm.

On Suffering

On Suffering

Our problem and our psychosis is that we don’t suffer. For thousands and thousands of years humans have never had to worry about suffering. It was always present, free and available in sufficient quantities for everyone. It tempered the soul. It was the land we walked and the air we breathed. It was the launch pad of consciousness. The germinator of religion. The suffering we felt at the necessity of robbing an equal creature/an equal soul of life to sustain our own. This terrible selfishness. This Thou Shalt Not Kill. This commandment broken again and again, hands wet with blood, arms tired with brutal pummeling. Don’t be hoodwinked by your culture. During this time, this slow explosion of mind and matter, that would eventually sweep the planet – we did not see ourselves as any different from the life around us. Killing our brothers and sisters and eating their flesh – first was born ritual to grapple with the suffering this caused, this terrible guilt. The original sin. Who were we to decide life and death – to mete punishment first with our hands and then with the tools we made with our minds?

The suffering of the struggle to survive, the suffering of losing loved ones to the brutality of defense, accident, disease, predation…the suffering of how short the time was. Humanity has done its utmost to divorce itself from suffering and has largely succeeded in the more “developed” places. So minds become stunted. Hearts atrophied without the air of suffering to breathe. And when we do have the opportunity to suffer – to steep our souls in the cauldron of fire which made us – the fiery vessel of God – it is too bright, too warm and cruel for our distended souls, our shriveled hearts – so we turn away – we deal in repression/psychosis/depression – we stuff ourselves with Words, pad our minds with empty concepts – God/Faith/Nihilism/Fate/Greed/Gluttony/Alcohol/Drugs/Hatred/Jealousy/Anxiety/Depression/Insomnia…all that we supposedly abhor – we become – because we do not know how to suffer. Of course – who would choose to suffer? If given the choice – who would mantle themselves with this thorough garment of pain? So we sequester ourselves in our safe rooms of empty days and the collection of material and the easy subjugation of our brothers and sisters – we eat now without suffering – we eat empty promises and empty calories – and belch into the sky our stink at having been cooped up in our safe rooms without the benefit of the cleansing and purifying bath of suffering. We desperately need to suffer and each and every one of us knows this, each of us carries a seed planted deep within our consciousness…but not enough bloom…the seeds lie dormant, encased, ungerminated – spreading their invisible radiation to suffuse all aspects of life with the poison of non-being, non-belief…but – this will be taken care of – collectively. Without knowing it – we will manufacture our suffering – engineered in the dark places, unknown to us but it’s course as sure as an arrow, to burst forth in a glorious and hideous flood of suffering the likes of which will make WWII pale in comparison….to bring us back to our roots, to let us breathe good air and know ourselves.  So the question is – will enough people tend lovingly to this seed, give it the water of their tears and the nutrients of their active engagement with the world as it truly is – a construct of spirit and matter – the natural expression of which is suffering – to awaken the seed and have it grow and bear its fruit…and this fruit is called Human with a capital ‘H’, whole and enlightened consciousness, unfractured, selfless and paradoxically without suffering because the long journey we are all asked to make, simply by being born, has been trodden. The only way out is through.

Dream Real Dream

Dream real dream real dream real real dream dream reality dream reality dream reality reality of dream

This place truly is a mixture of sleep and wake, dream and reality.

What is reality? The place outside dream.

What is dream? The place outside reality.

For as long as humans have been, this has been the case – we have been a mixture of dream and reality – and quite honestly – even our greatest intellects have been ill-equipped to explain what either dream or reality is. This can only be intuited. The poets and the wise intuit – they are the closest to understanding. The difference can be known but never explained. Dream and reality make up a living animal of interconnected parts. Dissection merely creates intellectual curiosities.

The inner becomes the outer and the outer inner. Black is only truly black next to white. White is only truly white next to black. A conjunction of opposites brings the truth.

I don’t think we are the only ones either. This applies to all matter across all time. Think of the universe as a scattering of energy. What we call “matter” is imprinted onto this energy. I am an imprint of a mysterious energy…not mysterious because it is in itself mysterious but because I can not comprehend it. Yet. It can be observed that the Universe is growing toward consciousness. It is naturally tending towards consciousness, higher and higher levels of consciousness – like a plant turning toward the light of the sun and unfurling its broad leaves to capture the energy, ever evolving to be more receptive to the light. How blessed is the human? The apex of universal consciousness as far as we know and as far as gross matter is concerned (who knows what intelligence drives the sun?). In a universe of vanishingly small amounts of matter, how blessed is it to be a blade of grass? The dreams of grass are likely very simple yet because of this very powerful.

The human dream can be incredibly complex and because of this incredibly subtle. This construct – where we are – and we are undeniably somewhere – is a mixture of dream and reality. I recall an event which happened three hours ago and it feels no different than recalling a dream. I dream I am falling and my stomach drops out and I scream. The inner is outer and outer inner. Humans have always made their dreams live. From three-headed beasts that guard the Underworld to planes that propel us through the sky. And I ask – who were the first fliers? Shamans – their thought forms dark streaking across the tundra sky. Our dreams are reality. It is a fact that if enough people share the same dream it will be birthed into reality.