Rebirth.

The evening after I had proposed to Leticia in Montana, and she had flown back to Los Angeles, I went for a walk down to the Bitterroot River with my blood mother. On our sunset journey, we discovered -- out in the middle of acres and acres of hay-fields -- two baby manx kittens.

Naturally my mother wants to save them, but I, being the cold-hearted rationality of our group, insist that Dad will not be happy if she brings home, not one, but TWO additional pets for "the farm". I say that we must let nature take its course. So, we continue down to the river.

Of course we know we will pass them on our return journey, so really I'm just giving us time to think about it. But nothing gets said, and, as we pass them on the way home, we just keep walking.

But, lo and behold, Mother Nature heard her name called, for something inspires these two baby kittens to follow us! With clumsy leaps and bounds on a heavily graveled road, for an entire half-mile they follow us, unassisted, all the back to the car! At that point it was like: Who could deny such determination in such a supposedly inferior species?? So we take them in.

We are just laughing by the time we get home -- because of our powerlessness in the situation, because we have no guilt on our consciences at passing them by. Of course Mom is delighted and of course Dad hems and haws for only a few minutes.

That evening, I decide to hold an all-night vigil and watch the sun come up on my parents' property. I must think about my choice to marry. I must think about returning to the vortex of L.A. I must understand what is happening to me.

I have a most tremendous experience doing so, unable to be clearly communicated, and by the morning, I am in the state-of-mind that I am truly leaving a Garden of Eden for the Unknown. Lord knows, my relationship had been rocky all the way along, so who could predict the potential of our union?

I witness a sunrise that has never been seen before by the eyes of a man -- so beautiful, so timeless and still, so frighteningly perfect! And I think these resounding words, which I have not forgotten:

I am being born.

WHIZ-BANG, many things a-happened! Back in LA, working again for movies, getting married, travel, in-laws-this, in-laws-that, galleries, art, marriage, and on and on and on! Zip ahead through these years: Bam, I find myself working feverishly hard on a project that I hope will produce a new career path for me.

During this time, I repeatedly feel as though I am "re-living" my school days. This makes sense, since I learning so many new things, etc, etc. However, the sensations are so profound, that I recognize, in no uncertain terms, my tendency towards the differing strategies that I employed as a younger man. . .things that I have learned, over time, do not ultimately serve me! Therefore, I am wickedly (albeit politely) stubborn towards those who would have me make those same mistakes TWICE. I say, "I'm sorry, I must do it this way this time. Forgive me!"

Finally, hear my wife's reasonings for our seperation: "I want to be married to a man, not a child. You must face the realities of life. You must grow up."

As I spend this last night in the empty apartment that attempted to launch our marriage, I feel she is right. Her language is tacit, but she is right, because I AM growing up! I continue to have that experience! I continue to re-understand what must have happened to me as a babe, realizing that I must part from my mother. . .I'm telling you, this is all very deep!

Now, now is the time that I must be extra careful, because, now is the time -- that in my memories -- I was introduced to the pre-school/playground problems, the situations which got me BROKEN PHYSICALLY.

So I feel strongly that I must strengthen my body. I must become more agile. I must be able to manuever out of situations that would harm me. And should I be cornered again, ambushed for my light, I will fight. Boys I mean that. And I believe I will not lose this time. I will not be humiliated and forced to watch the other guys grow up strong and proud while I nurse old injuries; said differently: I do not need to spend another 25 years developing my mind and my artistic skills in lieu of a warrior's body, because I already have honed and polished those skills to an obsessive level.

I am ready now for what is next. Lord, hear my humble prayer: I seek to venerate You in this world. Help me over-come my mortal fear so that I may shine Your light for Your world to see.

This Los Angeles Lifetime

I was 19. I wanted to be a comic-book artist -- I wanted to fall in love the way I didn't in high school.

Got here, met a woman who, by age alone, knew a few things more than me. I gave her my keys. This is not the behavior of a man; this is the behavior of a fool.

Ten years later I proclaim: I have given my keys again!! On August 6th 2004, I married Leticia Carmelle Lacy (which now that I really think about it, fits an irish boy like me in this way: Leticia Connell Lacy. Hmm, we never thought of that...:|

I guess our timing was always kinda like that...but I know this much: I love that woman. I gave her my keys, for sure. And as she sends me packing, I tell you I would do it again, if only on the hope that my misbehaving-ass would do something a little better on the rerun!

But if this is it -- like she is telling me, this is it -- then, after the appropriate considerations are paid to the threads of my life here and her family, I should like to find True Love in my Home of Montana with my family, not only in Christ.

Such is my selfishness and I am not unaware that such business could easily take another ten years' LA Time. Please guide and protect me. I have been a fool before..!

TAKE ONLY WHAT YOU NEED

No need for war -- there is abundance.
Love is to be found within all. . .
When they have sought to find it
You are reminded.

Business, business, business
keeps the world spinning around;
It's just the business of resolving issues:
Issues between you and me.

Bleached flowers, mountain-time tea
crisp blue eyes, infinite tranquility
I say there is no need for war,
at least, between you and me.

Left home accidentally,
intentfully, since before Before, and
I wonder how, with all that is given,
Your memory is still more!

They say that what is WORK and what is NOT work
has perplexed many great minds for many years. . .
Well, here is my take on it, perhaps you agree,
One letter shy spells: WOR-(k) = WAR, don't you see?

But there is no need for it, please!
There is only abundance!

Trouble in Pre-school.

It was like this:

Why was there a guitar in a pre-school in Montana? It must have been a very, very bad guitar. I don't remember its quality, though, because a music-maker makes music even when he walks and while he talks -- this is the secret to his craft.

I controlled pre-school. That's who I am. I am the Master of Illusion. I make reality of what is in my mind. I have always had this gift, and I have always reacted passionately and fiercely when forced to abandon my dreams.

I had never been with a large group of kids before -- a protected child, I was. So I did not realize that such head-control is selfishness; that, in larger groups, behavior like this is bound to confront other similarly talented and determined individuals.

My wife said I never do things small. Big success, big mistakes. She knows me. And in this life, I have always been this way. Back then was no exception.

So I had to meet my gifted friends one way or another. If I'd had some introduction to the joy of comraderie before then, maybe I'd have learned how to forsake my own illusions for all the adventures that lay in the minds of my companions. Instead, I held on to the control, dictating the spirit of the class, until. . .I found the guitar.

The only way I have come to remember this day is by re-breaking all of my fingers, surrendering entirely to my greatest fears, and re-learning how to play music. It took almost 20 years just to find my way back to the guitar -- and you know I had loving parents! Hell, I even had a father who was a trained concert pianist! Without their guidance, would I have spent the next ten years learning, fighting my way through the fear, and remembering to play well enough to have the flash-backs?

Uninhibited and unlimited, as only a child can be, I played that guitar. I said to my awe-struck class-mates: "See, this is why I control it, so I can make music!" This was my moment, my one moment that I have forever been trying to recreate-with-a-different-ending.

A different ending, because the boys in the class who had been quietly trying to pinpoint and understand my subtle psychic manipulations of the classroom attitudes and energies now had something tangible that they could target. There I was, fingers dancing, body moving -- it was simple.

They beat me up. They stepped on my fingers. They walked on me physically, as I had walked on them mentally.

They broke no bones, though my fingers were twisted in pain and my shoulder was never the same, dislocated? They just hurt me -- they introduced me to real pain. They hurt me so badly that I became a mess. I could not focus on my game. I could only think about healing; healing was all I could hope for.

Childhood evaporates so quickly, but fear is ageless and timeless. Even after the physical pain went away, in my mind was a trepidation: If I were to make music, then I would attract the pain again.

So I stopped my antics. I closely watched my classmates. My father's job required us to move many times, so I met many, many children. I listened to their music instead. I adopted the world in lieu of myself. On my way out of high school, I headed for the cities and later, the world. And my broken song? Where did it go?

It ran away to a safe place deep inside of myself and waited. It has encouraged me, along the way, with intuitions I did not understand, blurted out one-second solos, and has waited for the time when my fears would finally be placated and conquored.

And I realize this is my life. I learn and listen to every else's song so that I can sing in harmony.

My song is still very fragile, newborn. This time around, every peep of discension anybody shows me is enough for me to abandon the rhythm. I still fear reprecusion. But each time I hear the same song repeated with each person's human inclination to follow, over and over, my confidence grows. There is a place for me in the world. And as my confidence grows, I am recognized for who I have always been. And I feel glorious at that moment.

( Interesting that selfishness is a product of pain and fear. To understand it that way makes forbearance, particularly in others' incomprehensible behaviors, a more easily compassionate activity. )

Going to Hell.

The Bible is right, there is much gnashing of teeth on your way down.

Why?

Cause it's goddamned painful to lose all you got. To realize all that you had, and what you are losing. . .you are bound to do a little teeth-grinding, suffering the free-will you now KNOW that you had in every decision that brought about your demise.

This is called Paying the Piper.

Once you are done, of course, they tell you, "Oh, stop regretting the past so much -- you wouldn't be HERE if you hadn't done it, see?!"

And naturally you are expecting fire-and-brimstone after your heavy taxation, but no -- wah-la! -- what do you know, surprise, you are in a land of ridiculous opportunity!!! Love and booty around every corner!!! A-hem. Naturally, everything you once had is GONE, but none-the-less, baby, you are in Heaven once again! Can ya dig it?!

Boy Begins Journey

Boy badly misbehaves and comes looking for titty. Momma says, "Well, you darn-well know what you did, and it was wrong. You gotta git grown up, NOW, boy. No if, and, or butts." And she really means that last part.

So, by now Boy has gotten old enough to know many human emotions -- mostly pride -- and he thinks he pretty much knows better in just about everything, no matter what even his own mother would tell him. He only thinks, ohhhh maaaaannnnnn, this shit is gonna be fun!!!

And before he can even start playing it, she cuts it and says, "It is your life -- you should do what you want. But you should know, that the path you are thinking about DOES leads to misery and suffering." And, when you see Mama's eyes, you know it does.

"Or," she says, "You can do the right thing: Learn to be honest with yourself. Humble yourself to your destiny..." she may pause for a minute or even stop there. But if she is a good mama, somehow she will admit: "Well, I suppose, you could ride your ego-train into the sky, if that's what you've got to do. . ." and then she really does pause. . .oh Mama!

"But only one path leads back to me."

My Confession

In choosing to stand naked, I state that I accept all of myself, even the unsavory aspects:

I am selfish. I seek gratification of myself without regard to the consequences or suffering it will cause other people. I desire to experience myself as a god, capable of anything -- yet . . . in this world, I am first a man.

I know we all are, indeed, gods of infinite potential, and I often lament that we do not acknowledge this truth in ourselves as well as others. However, I recognize that acts which seek to glorify the individual god and indulge in his power are not behaviors fitting the god status! So, in actuality, acts which boast of the divinity within are very, very mortal!

Since I believe in God within, and I want to align myself with Him (I deeply want to manifest behavior worthy of Him!), I admit that what I did was wrong, for it does not best represent the humility and compassion of God that would consider Leticia, my family, and even myself.

Reality wins! Society fails! F!

That's the letter grade I give society.

Here is another lyric. This one is by Ani DiFranco:

I raise my glass and give a toast to all our saviors
Each so badly behaved --
It's too bad that the world is the one that they saved.

I got naked in public a week ago and it has caused many of my loved ones a great deal of "suffering". I mean, I am almost 30 and all . . . doncha know there really are norms that ought be strictly observed. Haven't you read the RULES, people?!

My wife had me move out. My mother is flogging herself for raising me "crazy". And who knows what everyone else is saying about me.

But, just between you and me though, dear Internet Cosmos, I would be laughing at them if they didn't take themselves so seriously!

They can't see beyond the act, and they are stuck there, going around and around, wondering, "Why did he do it? What made him do it?" And there is simply no answer to that question that has a lifespan of more than about a week.

To understand why I did it requires a clear understanding of reality. I did not say society, I said reality. These two aspects are entirely disparate from one another at this time.

I gave myself approval to do it because, in terms of reality, I could see no fault. In fact, in terms of reality, it isn't even a notable act. Even among humans, our puritanical American culture is arguably the most stuck-up about the unclad body. Could that be related to our obsessive sexuality?? Hmm!

Therefore, I suspected, I theorized, that in terms of reality no harm could actually come of it. I knew the rewards would be profound in terms of insight. So, after the thought had occured to me and I determined that it was only an issue of personal fear holding me back, chickening out would have just been one more check-mark in the "weak" column.

And is that how a person ought to live? Passively?

For myself, I answer, no. I want to actively manifest my life. I give myself permission to do what needs to be done.

Though the circumstances will be for no other person a matter of walking naked in public, the reasoning employed here is the proper way to live life. I know it. We fluctuate only between infinite potential and infinite reality.

My task and frustration for several years now has been this process of stripping away that which I desire because I'm a backwards-bred, miseducated, dreamer (my potential) and that which is natural and appropriate for me to desire AND revel in as life affords me the opportunities to experience (my reality).

One of the greatest things I believe that I deserve, as a member of the human race, is a sustainable, gratifying way to make a modest living with my God-given aptitudes -- a career that does not break me in half and make me a slave to the dollar bill, and a career that challenges me to hone my aptitudes to a master level.

I believe this is a fundamental human right, so I set out to make it happen for myself. I did not expect it would happen easily or without conflict, but I was shocked to find that those who most challenged me to succeed on this path were some of my closest loved ones. Which actually makes perfect sense, no?

It took nearly two years, but I have undeniable evidence that I'm on the right path. I am happier and more confident than I have ever been that I have done the right thing. If my wife were to remain serious about the separation, at least my career would prevail and I would take a lot of pride in that.

But that is my point. The more time that goes by, the more ridiculous and impossible the madness of a "naked glidewalk" seems, especially as it actually did not pose any threat what-so-ever to the physical aspects of my life. Only people's minds and emotions have been upset -- and that happens all the time anyway!!!

I am absolved.

Bob Marley said:

Woman feel the pain,
Man suffer, Lord.

This is a mantra of mine -- I repeat it to myself often, and everytime I say it, I fully know that it is radically true AND that I fully do not understand it!

Woman feel the pain,
Man suffer, Lord.

Multiple Orgasms for Men & the Philosophy

Not to be scandalous, but honestly, honestly, to spread knowledge:

Ejaculation is when he, like...you know...produces a result. Orgasm is a psychological, physiological sensation of pleasure, contraction, and climax.

Most people think these are the same thing for a man. THEY ARE NOT THE SAME THING!

When a man dumps his junk, the fun is generally over. Girls'd be lucky if he even remembers their name afterwards. Evolutionarily this makes sense: the mission of procreation and fertilization is complete, he must now rest, hope for a result, and recupperate for the next mission.

If that's as deep as you want to go with sex, boys, then don't let me make you uncomfortable, or suggest you're doing it wrong. Go ahead, cum again soon, as they say. Enjoy!

But, if you'd like to take it all a step higher, then read on:

With concentration and practice, it is possible to "ride-the-line" between the point-of-no-return and bliss. On this threshold, the heat, the yearning and desire to toss it all to the wind is profound. None-the-less, if you are with a cooperating partner (or yourself), the fire can be consciously swallowed, or willed in the opposite direction . . . down the trunk, towards the butt. From there, it naturally flows up the spine, lingers in the mind, and is eventually consumed in the tummy. The cycle continues.

Why do such a thing? Well, to say it simply: It is a profound realization to discover that you can feel orgasmically good, and then . . . rather than basically dying, go even higher!

Sex is a powerful aspect of life. It is even hard to say which came first, life or sex. But, this much is for sure: How you go about one greatly affects the other.

The only way to know how high the staircase climbs is to learn how to stick with it, even if it means forsaking some temporary gratification. And once you really grasp that statement, the gratification you will become privvy to will just be sooooooo much greater!

My variation of Buddha's version:

1. There is suffering. Suffering should be understood, suffering has been understood.

2. There is an origin to suffering, which is attachment to desire. Desire should be released, desire has been released.

3. There is a cessation to suffering. The cessation of suffering should be realized, cessation of suffering has been realized.

4. There is a path out of suffering. This path should be developed, this path has been developed.

Gautama also describes an 8-fold path leading out of suffering. It is reassuring, like the biblical stories, for he describes a process of self-improvement, which actually does happen naturally.

I feel rather strongly that the "happens naturally" part has been over-looked by our American culture. We are firmly educated to believe that any part of the natural world that we do not understand and control -- well, get yer pistols, cuz by God -- we soon will.

That notion is really just an old fever of the Rennaissance, becase our modern scientists have irrefutably, mathmatically proven that simply observing a phenomenon affects and changes the phenomenon! What can you conclude about anything when looking at it changes its state?? It's like a relationship, and the world is a fractal -- the closer OR further away you get, the more detail you will see . . . infinitely.

So, what I'm saying is that we desire to believe we can apply a formula to our pain, or put in effect a mantra, and BANG everything will start heading the right direction. And that attitude is just all-wrong, it's an attachment to the idea that WE ARE GOD. God is God, we are people. There is nothing to be done about it. Nothing can be done.

Our efforts can only, should only, be spent in developing the right techniques to get along in this world: Relating to our fellow humans with the right attitude, using our intellect to develop strategies for health and longetivity that is in proportion with the expense it costs our people and our world.

If this work is done patiently and properly, enlightenment happens like fruit naturally appears on the tree. It is that easy! Simple! And the bounty is that delicious!

I grow very sad in trying to comprehend the global awareness we have accomplished. There could be nothing more astounding than the events of our very average lives -- and yet, with all of us operating on a full awareness of every niche, every underground movement, every shocking front-page scandal. . .each horror. . .what could our boring old lives possibly have in store for us that could snap us away from the screen?

Blog tip:

If you want to get Blog traffic, it is so simple: Talk about Jesus. Wow, I had no idea!

Would you recognize Jesus today?

Well, if you recall, he wasn't well-recognized, even back in the day. Generally, his people thought he was a heretic. As the Roman Empire was basically conquoring and occupying what is now Isreal, they had serious issues with some Jew being heralded as the King of the Jews. So the law had an even bigger beef with him -- sort of a threat to their ability to rule. Really the only people who believed or recognized Jesus were those he directly touched. And even then, the disciples ranged from sycophantic to spineless -- at least one-in-ten was a Judas, recognizing the Son of God but deploring the righteous selfishness of Jesus' method.

My point is, he was not a popular character. His message was poorly received and improperly understood, even when he was alive! He was not on prime-time TV. . .hell, unless to denegrate him, he probably couldn't even have gotten a radio-spot, an interview, or an article.

Therefore, please grant me the black-hole of irony that so many people, now, think they are down with hommie Jesus. What? Has truth become easier to swallow over the last 1000 years? I DON'T THINK SO. Has the human ego lost its righteousness and fascination with itself? I DON'T THINK SO.

Just to be over-bearing, I will reitterate: The Romans condemned and crucified Jesus . . . and oh, some 300 years later, they adopted the gospel as their own. WHAT IS THAT? It's enough to make me cry!

So.

With that loose history in mind of Jesus and how he was "accepted", let me ask you again: Would you recognize Jesus today?

I'm not trying to be on a soap-box, and I know religion gets everybody in a tizzy. So I will answer my own question as honestly as I can:

I'm afraid I wouldn't recognize Him, if for no other reason than my selfishness which never goes away. That is why I do my best to focus on one single meditation as I handle the people in my life: We are all sons and daughters of God -- that much is true. Therefore, any (and all of us), could be, or ARE, the Christ.

Every conversation, every inflection, every nuance . . . could be God talking directly to me, if I am just willing to listen.

PS, People that say that God talks to them, as they practically ignore YOU, are full of shit. Talking to God means you are in communication with all that is "God", and look around, I don't see too many people speaking hummingbird or tree. Although it is very pleasent, I'm sure.

Drugs! Drugs! Drugs!

So the question keeps coming up:

Last Friday, did I decide to walk out the door naked because I was HIGH? Because I was I on drugs?? Because surely, a "sane" mind would never do something so outrageous, right?

Answer: No, dorks. That was me in my mid-twenties, running around barefoot, ripped on everything, and pretty cocky to boot.

On Friday, I made a sober choice to do something that I have feared to do all of my life, which is be naked in public. At home or out in the woods, sure, I'm a nudist, who isn't? but the idea of baring it all to the world, on the streets of Los Angeles, was pretty mind-boggling. Which is why, when the thought entered my head -- unannounced, unprecipitated -- and I actually considered doing it, I realized this was a personal spiritual challenge.

People claim LSD/Mushrooms remove psychological barriers, and they really do. The catch, the reason why they fail to make any permanent changes, is that those barriers are much, much bigger than an ounce of fungus or a drop of lysergic acid. You have to scale those mountains by commitment, sweat, muscle, intent, and most of all, time.

Once you are on top, either for real or with drugs, you will remember that this is just the way it has always been. And you will laugh because -- right or wrong, whatever gets you through the night -- it really is alright.

But I really hope you get inspired by your drug-experiences. I hope you say to yourself, "Well, shit, this feels good like it used to feel...and what the hell happened to that?!?" I hope you ask yourself that question, and I hope you want to know the answer more than anything else in the whole wide world.

Because, everyone will tell you, the answer ain't drugs. And by the way, that includes all of these damn perscription drugs that assault me every time I walk past a TV. I give a polite fuck-you to the pharmacuedical/media companies for not having the courage or humility to be accountable for the gross manipulation of social consciousness it is to show us a pill for all of our pains.

Pain is to be HEALED not medicated! And that is final.

Peace, brothers and sisters, mommas and poppas.

The American Jail System

Prompted by my most recent stint in jail, I have decided to narrate my previous two jail experiences:

The first was when I was 19. I had just moved from the country. I had gotten mixed up with the first girl who was agressive enough to get my clumsy ass into a situation with her -- a 32 year old mexicana woman. We proceeded to drive each other crazy, if for no other reason than we simply were coming from too different perspectives. Our arguments were legendary. Once, while screaming at each other, the living room window fan -- one of those big, flat square ones -- decided to make a suicide jump. Before God, I swear neither of us touched it. We stopped mid-sentence, hearing the window screen ripping and popping off the window. We turned to see the fan disappearing from our second-story apartment. Problem: The power cord. Instead of hitting the ground, the fan proceeded to tarzan itself straight through our first story neighbor's living room window. I had to knock on his door and see him standing amidst broken glass everywhere and our fan on his coffee table. Can you imagine?

Anyway, it is my first trip to the slammer that I most regret, for no matter how I tell the story, I was wrong. You see, in an argument, I slapped her. That is wrong. There really is never a circumstance where this is necessary. Curiously though, this was in Pasadena and I spent the least amount of time in the tank for this offense. They just booked me, printed me, took mug shots, and I set me in a six by six cell for a good couple of hours. Then they let me go.

My next offense was in the state of Washington, travelling from Montana to Seattle. My buddy was driving well over 80 and I was smoking weed. We got pulled over, I panicked and overtly stashed my stuff. The officer saw me, searched us, found everything, and gave me court date. The laws for possession in that state are manditory: 2 days in the slammer.

This was my first actual jail experience. I was given an orange outfit and put in the actual jail, where there were about 40 other dudes, living on bunk-beds, watching TV endlessly. The most happy any of them ever got was when they were selected for labor, cause that meant they could leave that damn room.

I was given a cot because all the bunks were already full. This got me cred from the other boys, because how shitty is that? I'm in jail and they don't even give me a bunk?

Everyone expects that you pretty much get raped in jail. I don't know about that, but I can say, one way or another, you get screwed. Here's what it is: With 40 dudes in a room, living together, you can be damn sure the alpha-male strategies are in full-effect. If you are the new guy, you aren't worth the trouble of any of the big dogs, unless of course you ask for it. So it's the guys on the very bottom who are interested in you. A new cat is a way for them to rank just that much higher. Nobody else even wants to talk to you.

So, here's what happened: The Jailer rolls a big mopping/cleaning/trash-can deal into the room and then skidattles. The guys all kinda shuffle around, like, okay, who's gonna clean the fucking bathroom and mop the floor? This jail is dirty as hell, so maybe nobody normally does it? One of the low guys on the totem pole points at the bucket and tells me to clean the bathroom and shower.

Many years later as I reflect on this, and also knowing that I caught something from that jail that made me sick for over two months -- indeed nearly killed me -- I see clearly that by cleaning the bathroom, I became the lowest-ranked bitch. If I'd spent more time in that jail, it probably wouldn't have gone well for me. After all, I am a pretty androgenous guy anyway. My ass probably would have worked real fine as a substitute. Jesus.

That may be the case, but at the same time, my Momma taught me good. So I felt bad for all those guys in there. If you go to jail, you can SEE the injustice of it. You recognize people you have known, mixed up in trouble that has been judged and sentenced by some guy in a black robe. Beyond that subtle perception, there is also the issue of race. Out in the country of Washington state there are a lot more white folks these days than colored folks. But if that jail was any indication, white people don't commit crimes, cause most of them were native americans and latinos. I could see this and I felt compassion.

The fact that I scrubbed their fucking bathroom, every inch of it, left all those boys basically speechless. They knew I was only in there for two days. And when I was done, walked out, and looked around the room, I realized that was my test: Little white boy like me -- they wanted to know if I was the type of guy who thought he was too good to be in jail? If so, then holy shit, I guess they might've felt I needed a lesson in reality.

My most recent stint in jail was, uhm, two days ago. This time I was in Los Angeles Central Jail. I was arrested for being Nude in Public. Why was I naked in public? To understand you must fully understand these two words: Consecrated liberation. If you cannot fathom performing an act consciously and ceremonially that liberates you from fear, then you cannot understand why I would do something like this.

Notwithstanding, I have realized due to the burden it has put on both sides of my family that my act was outrageously selfish. I did not deeply enough consider the consequences or the embarressment it would cause my wife, parents, and relatives. So ironically, in freeing myself from one ball and chain, I have created a new one for myself. ahhhh. I will apologize more directly when the time arrives.

NAKED WALK Complete

It is done. I have walked naked among my people.

I live in Silverlake, Los Angeles...a community known for its liberal, yuppie art crowd (getting yuppier every day). We are close to downtown Los Angeles, Echo Park, and we are cornered by Hollywood. Of all places in America, a public display of first amendment rights would most likely be acceptable in our neighborhood.

Not so.

I spent seven hours in jail after being told that in order to "protest", I must first apply for a PERMIT TO PROTEST! Ah-ha! That makes sense!

sighhhh -- so be it. This is the way of the world. I think it has always been this way.

And soooo, at the close of the day, after being bailed out by my suffering wife, Jesus' very own Mary, I am left alone wondering these thoughts:

It is actually crazy to try and walk the streets naked. It is simply not the "way" of our world. That is true.

But then...where do I fit in?

We are moving, and I must BE!

Moving is significant, I think, for all people. For me, however, it is very much so. I moved nearly once a year until I got to seventh grade. New school. New playground. New neighborhood. I thought it was fine.

But now, I'm close to 30 and the transition from one three-year period of my life to the awesome potential of a new period has me feeling many emotions. Awesome emotions that I'm quite sure I did not understand as a child.

Through these emotions, I learn about the shaping of my early reality...which is naturally still affecting me today. It is nearly over-whelming, and yet I feel calm.

Today is Friday the 13th. It is my very last day in the old apartment. I have internet work to do. However, I am sitting on a challenge to myself from last night: that today I would walk around the Silverlake reservoir naked.

Why?

As art? As a affirmation of my first amendment freedom? To shock old women and small children? Or just to experience liberation? Or just to be a selfish, attention-seeking lunatic?

Well, yes to everything but shocking the old women and small children. I don't want to do that. I thought I would bring a piece of paper to cover myself if I pass old ladies and kids. God forgive me.

In my heart I believe such an expression would be to challenge the world to be free, to challenge every individual to stand naked with their OWN TRUTH. To beg everyone to proclaim themselves.

My wife will be very upset. I most fear her dismay, particularily in regard to what her family might think about me after doing something so "crazy". And as I have a vow with her and God that supercedes all other vows, I really ought to opt out of this act.

Yet, I have a personal path of self-expression that I must follow, lest I succumb to bitterness. I have a light that I must shine for the world to see. I am not ashamed of my light.

So I walk.

Marijuana VS. Television

Each are a vortex. Each are massively entertaining until you realize one day that you have just wasted a year of your life doing almost nothing for yourself.

Curiously, though, one is stigmatized in our culture. If someone asks you what you did last night, and you say, "I watched the game"--even if that someone hates football, it's pretty much all good. Conversely, if you say, "Oh, I got high and--" oh! they didn't even hear about what you did, just that you got high.

When you cop to smoking weed it is pretty dependably a divided response. Either they will laugh like a fucking idiot stoner and give you the sly eyes, like, "yah dog," like they know too!, like they're in on your dirty little secret, OR!

They will politely say, "ohhhhh, hmmm, how innnnnteressssssting" as if somehow they now have a revelation as to why you do not (and have not ever) made any sense to them. Then they will proceed to tell you what they think about pot, what their experiences have been, etc, etc.

RARE is the person who doesn't have issues with it. Why is this? What is it about altering your head-space that freaks our whole culture out?

Could it be that chaos would errupt if everyone realized their deepest potential? Would people stop going to work?! (!)

If that is the fear, then we are a faith-less, mal-educated nation. For I believe that if everyone were to realize their divinity-within, then surely Divinity would handle things. No?

In the final analysis, it is simply this: Marijuana, like television, is a habit forming, dependably distracting way of consuming free time. Both have brought enormous amounts of pleasure and light to our lives. Both have the profound ability to replace the open expanse of your limitless mind with desireable attachments to the illusions of reality.

And even though it's all good, our time here is limited. It is important to do the things we came here to do.

Learn to hate yourself well!

Basically, human nature is chalk-full of a whole bunch of rather unsavory mind-states. One of which is hatred.

But guess what, it is quite natural. The reason we're all so scared of hatred is that generally folks tend to make a militant habit of placing their dislikes OUTSIDE of themselves. That is because it is much easier to hate Dubya Bush than it is to witness the Hitler in ourselves.

HOWEVER!

The only way you will ever experience the purest satisfaction of life, freedom, and love is to learn how to manage these distasteful realities. I did not say avoid. I said manage. You must understand that dislikes, discontent, loathing . . . it all stems from self-mortality.

Everyone knows in their heart that their soul is eternal -- how impossible it is to fathom that our vehical (which we have come to identify with our soul), this body of ours, must perish! Worse, that upon observation, to find it is riddled with inefficiencies, vulgarities, weaknesses, pain, etc, etc, ad nauseum. The irony is unbearable.

BUT there is a payoff:

Once you see clearly both sides of your nature -- the god in you and your ashes-to-ashes incarnation -- then you will find it easier and easier to forgive. Forgiveness not only for yourself, but also refreshingly, the strength to forgive the rest of us for our humanity.