Fringe Dwellers and Bridge Workers…

He told me his father was a Neurologist and his Father-in-law was of Royalty in Scotland or some place in Nova Scotia. It really didn’t matter as to where, he was telling me the truth.

His mother and father had so much money that they ended up getting bored with one another and his step mom ended up with his father and his stepfather ended up with his mother. They just swapped.

He reminded me of the kid from Salt Lake City Punk. What a movie!

Intelligent and intelligible with a smearing of anarchy. Ah, but most people think Anarchy to be something It is surely not. More on that another time.

As he was talking about being houseless, not Homeless, as I will remind everyone, I wasn’t at all surprised at that way he viewed society and its normative conditions, textures and inane arbitrary rules. It wasn’t a long interaction, but enough for an empath to sense his complete lack of respect for a system that doesn’t respect humans, I guess I’ll call it the numeric inhumane codex of false kings and faux rulers of consciousness.

As he continued on he spoke of people that would take him in and offer him a place to stay – but, there is always that opportunity cost or CODB (cost of doing business) that would crop up. First it would be a place to come by and shower or shave and a meal, then it would progress into a place to sleep, and then next into maybe a key to the house…but at what service cost?

Then they would almost unanimously sequester his company and companionship, which for a small part he was willing to generously provide. Until it became a question of where was he going, when would he be back, wait…stay and talk. Often times there was a TV in the background and all of the mede’s terror and hidden hand of fear mongering at work.

He would undoubtable choose the streets in stead of a benign conversation peppered with the fright that tumbled through the mind of his seem-to-be champion!

What did the streets have to offer that the much touted ‘security’ of a house didn’t?

It was funny, as he was speaking to another houseless spirit and I, he talked about the bullshit and terror mongering machine that fed the minds of the masses…and as he did, he said loudly and abruptly, “there’s a TERRORIST!” Then he looked to his right, on the other side of the outdoor sitting area adjacent to the café with live music, where a girl and her boyfriend were shook with the face of fear.

He looked at them and smiled, and said, “see?” You were just scared weren’t you? To which the girl smiled sheepishly back and said, “yes, I was.” He had a short recourse with the two and then continued to tell us about the people that would bring him in and how he would much rather be on the streets.

It was all a matter of stressors. Micro and Macro, mental and physical, emotional and psychosomatic. The names and boxes of psychotherapist lingo doesn’t matter. It really just comes down to stress, and the question, “is it worth it?”

The other man who I know because I’ve sat and drank beers with him and listened to him play his drum, chimes in about being asleep one evening, when someone wakes him to which he responds bluntly, “get the FUCK away from me, I’m trying to sleep!” We are all laughing.

The man was trying to give him $5. Now both of them are laughing, saying there are more important things than money, namely sleep. The drummer then says, “yeah, but I coulda used that 5 bucks.”

This turns into a story of his Drum being stolen a few days prior.

The Salt Lake City Punk had to run and do something, we bid him fare well.

The drummer continued on telling me about his mother giving him some cash awhile back to purchase the drum. It was a nice piece, I’ve seen it and heard it before. It was $230 leather skinned, and his hands retied the leather to his specifications.
“Steal my shoes, steal my back pack, just don’t steal my drum!”…as he rolled a cigarette.

He says this a few times but is smiling a bit. I say hey, it just gives you a little time to relax and not worry about drumming. He agrees and says he will manifest a new one soon.

As I pour him some Takka Vodka with fresh lemon and a raw Honey Syrup I made in the morning, he continues on that he can’t tell his mother that his drum was stolen. You should be aware that this young spirit is in the body of a 50-something. Worn from the streets, sure, but not wretched or decaying, just aged.

He is worried that if he were to tell his mom, it would ruin her entire week, because she is a very emotional person. He used to have a place and 7 or 8 drums before Hurricane katrina.

I really despise the idea of naming ‘events’ or ‘natural phenomenon’ even if they are weather modification programs in place by military or magicians, as in storms and such. To personify ‘wind’ is a really bizarre and tragic philosophy. It’s like keeping a dead body. It is a pin in your consciousness to identify a bleak event.

I seem to be a verb…As Bucky Fueller said, and I have tatted on my right forearm.

To think that you can put a name on an event of wind and make it a stagnant placeholder or an immovable objective noun is a giant boulder in the human experience for the meta-physician.

There is this pervasive energy that occurs when one speaks of those fearful set of 3 numbers in U.S. history which happened in NY. Or a name for possible events that may not even have occurred or were staged. I am always curious as to our true history and origins, as maybe the victor’s tales have been much exaggerated or never even occurred at all.

Is it all smoke and mirrors? The mystic in the mist and the black and white mirrors?

As this man tells me more about his drum being stolen and the possibility of his mother’s worry, I am moved to the idea of The Noble Lie.

It really is a passing idea about feelings, emotions, misdirection, magic, control and the dominator complex, but I digress.

He is concerned and empathetic to her plight, so he would rather not worry and burden her with his debacle. What her concern is, is another matter completely especially when you intensify it with the Black Mirror of the Dark Arts – to the casual reader it is referred to as the television. Tell Lie Vision.

Magic is absolutely, unequivocally, without question, absolutely real.

The Newtonian, materialist world view has again and again been completely shattered and rearranged. Both by the ‘science’ community and by the conscious traveler…even lay people have seen and experienced things and events that just couldn’t be so, but… they observed it.

The television and the actual physical experience. The dream world, the astral realms and a place that some have walked.

That place is a reality that is just as this one is. There is no discernable difference whatsoever. Down to the words on the page, the smell of this coffee shop, the pictures and the people. I have been there a few times. Inception. It is not a place of a casual subconscious dream, nor is it an out of body experience.

Look up right now. Look around your room. Smell. Touch something. Observe the feeling. Kick your shin against something. Talk to your dog. All. The. Same.

Where is that place? Where is this place right now that you proceed to live from?

You think it is physical? You think it is your ‘mind’?

It is a strange culmination of what you think of as Space and Time.

It is the intersection of those, along with your conscious Mind that sequesters an experience by rubbing on the Genie’s Lamp.

I’m sitting in a coffee shop in a plush leather chair, quad shot of Espresso with a spot of cream and some simple syrup. Espresso needs a bit of sweetener some days. I have a day old pastry with a thick, sticky, icky cream cheese frosting. Why get the day old? Well, it offers me something new. If I were to pick what I ‘think’ I wanted from the large glowing case of pastries, I probably wouldn’t venture too far from what I think I ‘want’.

Why am I even eating right now?

Basically I have no employment, and my funds are in the ‘almost empty’ category. I am in search of a new place to live and yet I somehow just can’t find the ‘need’ to care.
See, these people on the streets as houseless spirits have their levels of worry, care, delight and a whole variety of subtext and textures to their life experience. Me, on the other hand, I enjoy being a bridge worker between what is actually at least 2 wildly different realms of experience that exist simultaneously on this earth plane.

There is a desire to have a roof over my head, and the troubles and stresses of some of the digital, inorganic world, I do not in the least mind whatsoever. At the same time, I have slept outside in a park amongst the flora and fauna. I truly enjoy it.

However, warmth and companionship is something that I don’t think Maslow’s Hierarchy quite captures correctly. As his theory along with Freud and his cousin Edward Bernays are built on the back of Capitalism and patriarchal dominator principals, which are all subsets to the Materialist worldview. They exist because people have been sold a notion that their mind is broken into sin and they can not and should not trust themselves or their experiences. Their mind and body isn’t their own, and someone else, namely, ‘god’ or ‘government’ should shepherd their experience into an afterlife.

They might be ‘here’ kinda, but not really, just tinker for the corporatocracy, collect your bio survival tokens and stand in this line over here into the next incarnation that might have you at the center of.

They are of a special decree of magicians. I don’t know honestly if these participants in the priest-craft are even aware of their position. The psychologists and doctors and scientists and religious folk I’m speaking of. It feels like there is this giant place we all live in with all these archons, but not too many really have any idea what they are involved in.

It seems the ones that do are beyond altruistic, I can’t quite find the right word though, maybe you can.

I suspect most people involved in the ‘arts’ are not at all well aware of it. Sure some are, but I doubt most are even aware, as they are inside of a ‘spell’ as well.

Think of people in all industry who are just trying to make a living and get by with the house, husband/wife, kids, cars, job, etc…, even the captains and leaders of business, I wonder how caught up in the illusion of material before them they all are.

As Helen Keller most famously said, “I’d rather have vision with no sight, than sight with no vision.”

When I embarked on a 40 day water fast with my best friend and goddess, we both could see the room we were in with our eyes closed.

The bible says something to the effect, that a rich man has less of a chance of entering the Kingdom of Heaven than does a Camel have a chance to fit through the eye of a needle.

What does that really mean? It simply means that if you are rich with worldly goods and Know not that the riches of this world came out of your imagination, then you can quickly forget your birthright as a Giant Creative God Force of Imagination.

If those physical delights have become the thing responsible for your happiness and despair then your have lost access to your imagination which is analogous to the kingdom of heaven where all physical treasures are brought ‘down’ from.
I am a minimalist in most respects of life, although as is said, “everything in moderation, even excess!”

As the mediation for life tends to side with the explicit, Now-ness or New-ness of things and experiences, there is always this glimpse into the future and hopes and desires which permeate all experience. Yet, at the same time there is this infinite longing for the primordial immovable permanence of balance, peace, harmony and something, someone….a clear reflective being, a repository of sameness in another being.

Aren’t we all the same? In Lak esh.

But surely, there is a clean mirror without black or white that shows you and is your perfect equal.

The caves, and the meditation and the mind of the mindless. The formless immortal being. Yes, but what is the experience without the physical correspondence?

Even in these other realms, when I sleep in this body, I know this body is asleep, yet I have as vivid as an experience of physicality in those realms as well, so then what is the purpose of that ‘dream’? What then is the purpose of this ‘dream’?

Are you dreaming the butterfly, or are you the butterfly dreaming you?

As we take out heavenly world of the mind and magic and all infinite creative potential of imagination and secure it to the elements we find ourselves either in our own mind or out of our minds!

This drummer without his drum…He knows his music and his sound, out of his imagination provide his source of energy, currency, income. It was taken from him in the darkness of the night. Just as we all have had our fall, and our memories and imagination taken from us all somehow.

We all must get to the precipice of space and time…the doorway to perception of imagination, reality and material, and stand there as a bridge for our own unique experience – and to show the experience to others so that they to may imbibe the living waters of their own life.

What a strange and magical Kingdom we all have access to if we only choose to implement our enormous birth right of the universal mind of imagination!

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