The Road I Walk and the Message I Carry!

[Armen]

I am starting this thread after having posted a few stories on various threads. It seemed that it was beneficial both for me and for other members on the forum to have the benefit of telling them.

I know that I am filled to the brim, and that I have something important to say. Important in the very least that I need to share what's inside of me. I have so much to share, and virtually no where to take it.

I believe that my story needs to be told, and that in the telling of my story, it will lead to more people coming forth with their stories. I firmly believe that we have eroded our social soil, and must replenish the nutrients we have taken from it. We can do that only through our stories.

The codes to the doors we seek to unlock lie in the sharing of our stories. I'm not going to go about it in a linear way.

Rather, I will meander through my own inner landscape, through the topography of my memory, and share moments and events as they feel relevant. It will be an intuitive endeavor. It is, in essence, an album of memorable events, for the benefit and inspiration of those who might find resonance in what I have lived, and what I am about to live.

I am ok with people posting their own stories on here if they feel inspired to do so, although I have to add that I believe it would be incredible if everyone on this forum had their own thread devoted to their story; just food for thought (might be a nightmare for the moderators and tech support).

I welcome questions, reflections, additions, challenges, and any other kind of participations.

See you out there...

[MorningSong]

Beautiful intro! Can't wait to read on.....

[Armen]

Fire Indian

The first story I want to share comes from many years ago. Well, 2005ish. Not that long really in rational terms. But in feeling, like it has been aeons. There are some current events I feel compelled to share, especially from my recent trip across the United States, but I will get to that later.

This story has been sitting with me for quite some time and it wants to see the light of day. So, out of reverence, this is where I will begin....

I had joined the US Navy, mostly out of desperation, and a little out of curiosity. My mind and heart were with the stars, and the shamans of Mexico. It was the age old, annoying equation. Have time, but no money. Have money, no time. Now I had money, but not the freedom to use it towards something that felt meaningful. So, I managed with what was available. I went to every psychic fare and shamanic workshop I could get my hands on. I'm sure I got taken advantage of quite a lot, but I also learned a lot.

The end result of my exploits was that I connected with a woman who claimed to be a medicine woman. She had impressed me with her psychic ability, so I entrusted myself to her. This was in San Diego, California, where I was stationed. The name she carried was White Buffalo Medicine Woman. For anyone familiar with the North American Native culture, that is a pretty big name to take on. Whether she was for real, or self appointed, she was trying to walk in some big shoes.

In any case, she also disclosed to me that there was a place in the mountains of Arizona, not too far from the Grand Canyon that was considered somewhat of a holy place. It was called the "Whit Buffalo World Peace Ranch". As the name implied, they were caretaking several white Buffalo there. On her suggestion, we made a car trip out into the Arizona mountains in order to pilgrimage to see these sacred animals. Being there was interesting. The caretakers were anything but my conception of sacred guardians. They were average cowboys with really good hearts and a reverence for these animals. At least that's how I see them through the cobwebs of my cloudy memory. Who knows who they really are.

The animals were indeed spectacular. So light on their feet. Bouncing around as if the ground was a trampoline. What a contradiction. To see these nimble ballerinas with these massive and powerful bodies. Indeed there were remnants and artifacts of other pilgrims and holy men and women who had come from all over the world and all different types of religions, sprinkled throughout the ranch. One spot that stood out in particular was a pole with a multitude of flags and banners on it. It was awe inspiring to see such a convergence of religiosity in this simple place. It had a global, a cosmic, a universal feel to it.

Well, the story I want to tell really took place on the way there. You see, we stopped in, I believe, Flagstaff, a University town, for some gas. Flagstaff proper felt like the antithesis of where we were going, with its strip of fast food chains. Where it seemed all religions had converged at the Peace ranch, it seemed all fast food chain stores had converged in Flagstaff. A Mecca of fast food for the aspiring pilgrims of education.

At the time I had a very adolescent, romantic relationship with the Northern American Native culture. I was hugely inspired by the native way of living and practicing spirituality. At heart I felt more native than modern. I read stories about crusty, stubborn academics who went into native territories, arrogantly presuming that they would somehow teach the primitives, and ended up realizing they were the ones getting taught. Every time I read a story like that I wanted to shout out, "But I'm different. I get it." I had this fantasy that I could walk onto a reservation and by the purity of my being and sincerity, gain acceptance as a Native. My bubble was about to get burst in the most poignant and relevant way I could think of.

While my friends were outside filling up the tank, I meandered into the convenient store in search of a snack to keep my stomach entertained. It was a small place. A room with crass fluorescent lighting that seemed to agitate the nerves, and shelves that appeared too big for the little shack, overflowing with colorful packaging that screamed, "oh buy me!", leaving the customers to shuffle around sideways to get past each other. Of course, to top it off, you had the ceremonious dark skinned immigrant clerk, looking understandably miserable and dispassionate, with a far off, distant look, while his arms seemingly divorced from his consciousness went through the motions of ringing up various items for purchase. His eyes were the eyes of so many convenient store clerks I have seen. They seemed to beg to be put out of their misery, while simultaneously seeing no end in sight.

The whole place was a temple of subjugation. And there, in this placid, loud, crass sacrament of corporate profit, by the beer gods, swaying unsteadily, wreaking of alcohol, kind of like I might imagine Jesus in the temple of money changers, stood a giant Native man. He was tall and thick like an oak. Wearing a flannel shirt. Though swaying to and fro, he seemed to be made of iron and deeply entrenched in his spot. I don't know if it was that he was in a trance, or the intoxication, or a little of both, but there he was, an apparition of a wild, burning horse; a volcano about to erupt. It started off with a rumbling in his chest. He worked into it, first mumbling, "Whgh...Whh....Whhhw!" Then, it seemed to catch, and the mumbling and rumbling transformed into more intelligible words, until his message was decipherable, cranked up at full, ear crushing decibels. He was screaming. Everyone ignored him. The more he was ignored, the more it seemed to fuel this fire within him, and his screams got louder and louder, like an itch that was finally getting scratched. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY PEOPLE?! Over and over again. The words drilled into me without mercy.

He may have been the smelly drunk making an ass of himself, but I saw it differently. I saw the farce and superficiality of what we had become, and in the midst of it, a wild, unfettered, unbridled spirit that would not be taken in by the nauseating haze of polite compliance. It was as if the universe had taken what was inside of me, and placed it before me in the shape of this sensitive, incensed, wild beast. When you can't turn on your oppressor, you turn on yourself, cause someone's gotta pay.

And there he was in all his glory. A remnant of what it meant to be wild, screaming his head off, saying what everyone in this cursed world is feeling and thinking. I thought back to all the jeers and humiliations I had to endure. How people seemed to delight in my suffering. The incredible cruelty that I witnessed all around me, and in that moment it was like a portal opened in time and I saw it all. All the people that had been hung, tortured, burned, raped, ripped apart, I was living it over and over again, what it felt like to be colonized, the anger and the rage, the hatred, and the smug, cowardly faces that hid behind their own powerlessness and let it all happen.

I wanted to reach out to him. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to let him know that he wasn't alone. That I was one of him. But what could I possibly say? I wanted to give him a high five. I wanted to let him know that the Armenians were slaughtered by the Turks by the millions. That my great grandmother walked out of Russia as a sixteen year old with the Russian army, over the dead bodies of her friends and family. I wanted to tell him that my family up to 4 generations back, including myself, fled from their countries because of war. I wanted to tell him how the people of the middle east were being treated. How we were being demonized by a western industrial complex whose smugness and arrogance was only rivaled by its ignorance. I wanted to tell him that I walked away from everything my parents had hoped for me, because I didn't want it. I wanted to be wild and free, like I knew humans once were.

But what could I possibly do? What could I possibly say? How could I possibly bridge that chasm? I couldn't. How dare I? Who was I in my comfortable ways? I never felt so impotent and helpless in my life. I felt like I needed to go from door to door and just start beating people. Maybe if I gave people the experience of what it felt like they would wake up. I felt like I needed to set myself aflame. I needed to jump off of the grand canyon. I needed to join him in his screaming. I needed to get myself locked up, medicated, and subdued.

The reality was that I could not afford to loose control. But he was doing it for me. It was at once cathartic, as well as deeply shaming and humbling. Like everyone else I pretended to ignore him. I bowed my head and went on my business. When I think back, I see him as brave and me as a coward. Maybe his family sees it differently. Alcoholism is no fun. But that Indian spoke the truth that day, and I am deeply grateful for it. It humbled me. It brought me down to earth. It showed me that the pain we as humans have inflicted on each other did not simply go away because we have convenience. Putting on smiles and thinking positively does not erase the collective memory of our cells.

I saw how naive I was to think I could just walk onto a res and be welcomed with open arms. Like I said, I've rarely felt such shame and incompetence.

That man did set me ablaze. In later years I would find out what it felt like to be the bum that was ranting and raving while people politely turned away. I felt how the refusal of acknowledgement fuels the fire of passion even more. I felt the futility of my own existence.

However, I have to say that as a young man witnessing this Indian perform what I experienced as a societal exorcism, I don't know if he felt the futility of his own existence. I only know that I never forgot that moment, and I never forgot him. His presence lives on in my deeds, my thoughts, and my endeavors. He taught me how to embrace other people's pain. He taught me the importance of showing solidarity with those who are suffering. He taught me to feel my anger. He taught me how to stand, not in front of someone's rage, but beside them in their pain.

His rage is also my rage, and it lives in the transformed state of creative action. I am unwaveringly dedicated and motivated to do what I can to bring an end to the abuse. To bring an end to my abusiveness. To bring an end to all abuse. That is the fire that burns within me. I wanted to share this story, because although I may never meet him again, his actions changed my life, which, as a result, has changed other people's lives.

It did not go to waste...

[Corncrake]

A mere click on the 'thank you' button does not seem enough for that beautifully written and passionately recalled story ... thank you. Your description of the giant native man reminded me of 'Chief' in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - though of course he was supposedly deaf and dumb.

[Billy]

Sharing ones experiences on the journey of the soul is wonderful Armen, It assists others to grow with you, You have a poetic way with words also. Thank you for the beginnings of your sharing, I look forward to reading more. Here's to helping healing our troubled world.

Bless you

[motherlove]

Thank you Armen for putting to words what so many of us experience at so many levels. There is a lot of healing to be done. Your insights and perspectives are helpful in shifting awareness from sight focus to soul focus. I look forward to more from you. Best Wishes.

[Lettherebelight]

I hear your story Armen, and I thank you for telling it.

It's like the cry of the coyote on the wind. The air carries it from far away, when it reaches your ears, it stirs your soul.

[Armen]

Cross Country Trip: Porcfest and the Liberty Movement

I just got back from a trip across the United States. The impetus for the trip was to attend a festival called Porcfest (nothing to do with pork). Porcfest is a libertarian gathering, and part of what's known as the Free State Project. The idea was to choose a state in the US, and gather 20,000 liberty minded people to actively work on reforming and shrinking the government. In the end, New Hampshire won the vote as it already has a fairly strong history of liberty oriented people. I mean the emblem on their license plates says it all. "Live Free or Die". The project is now somewhere around 10 years old, and there are currently just over a thousand people that have moved there as a result of the Free State Project. More seem to be making the move every day. The festival is growing steadily in attendance, and I believe they are close to breaking into exponential growth.

Porcfest is sort of a premiere event to attract freedom oriented individuals and sell them on the idea of moving there. Though my reason for going on this trip was porcfest, there was by far more to my journey than just that event. However, I will start with what I saw there.

First off, I was exceedingly impressed by the liberty movement in these ways.

They are all extremely well versed in what freedom means from a civic and political perspective.

They believe that freedom has to be exercised or it will be taken away, and they do.

They are action oriented. They put their money where their mouth is.

They are organizing.

They are self sufficient and entrepreneurial.

Their actions are overturning our system in several ways.

You have activists that are specifically practicing civil disobedience. That means, they are challenging authority such as police and courts, specifically on rules and laws that are unjust, exploitative, and unconstitutional. This includes dancing at monuments even though the police arrested people, such as Adam Kokesh did (he was at porcfest). It includes deliberately breaking unjust laws. It includes watching and keeping tabs on police and stopping them from acting in cruel and brutal ways. You have people who are researching and reporting on the encroaching police state, and educating the public, as well as working to keep the heavy hand of the government at bay.

Agorism. Agorism as I understand it, is the practice of business outside of the law, on principle that the law is harmful. Regulations, licenses, and codes are presented as a way of keeping people safe, but really, they are a way of stifling people's ability to create and interact in a free market. These people are setting up accessible, informal educational systems, through the people, as well as a myriad of services and community centers that allow people to come together and trade freely on whatever terms they agree on. They are unplugging themselves from the oppressive rules of commerce regulated by government and corporations that keep people locked down and unable to create.

Politics. In New Hampshire, the government is small enough that you can actually have an impact in the local government. They attend city counsel meetings and vote on Bills, and because of their numbers, are actually able to block certain harmful bills from being implemented, as well as able to introduce more humane and liberty oriented bills. Many are even running for local political offices. One major success story was writing and passing a bill that allowed for marijuana to be used for medical purposes. I know it doesn't seem big in the scheme of things, but these are all steps in the right direction, and they count as far as I'm concerned.

Mindset: They have a functional understanding of what liberty means, and why it means what it means as it pertains to the law. They know their rights as human beings. Most of us don't. We don't understand where our law comes from, and how to articulate, or even have the mindset of a free human. In that sense, we give our power away daily. From a civic perspective, as pertaining to personal rights according to the law, they do.

Organization. They realized that numbers means political power. They realized that if they concentrate their numbers, come together, set up independent media outlets, help each other, fund each other, support each other in a concentrated way, they will get more done. And that's exactly what they are doing. In that sense the atmosphere was absolutely electric. They are actually taking action and relocating themselves to live in concentrated areas of proximity. This has created a hub that is now drawing more and more people. One guy even walked across the country as a statement, sharing with media outlets and locals all along the way what liberty is about.

Discussion. People within the liberty movement disagree on many things, but because their basic tenet is voluntarism, and a non-aggression principle, because they live by the creed "Live and let Live", they are able to have amazingly productive and civil discussions about controversial topics, or areas of contention. They aren't perfect, but in terms of any group I have encountered, they are very good at communicating.

I was exceedingly impressed by how well informed, passionate, and willing to act these people are. There is a huge contingency of people in their 30's and under, and more coming all the time. They understand that the educational system is a trap and brainwashing center, and they are creating alternatives.

When it comes to some of the more esoteric or fringe topics, they tend to shy away, but there is a lot of room for debate and synthesis. This is a movement that definitely is holding a very big piece of the picture, especially as they are very ready to and skilled in blocking the old system, as well as creating new infrastructures as alternatives.

Getting arrested is somewhat of a badge of honor in this crowd. They stand up for each other. They have lawyers that help them and use their influence to protect them. They swarm around local law enforcement and put pressure on them to release people who get arrested for unjust reasons. They are active and not afraid.

More about the trip to come...

[Mike]

hi Armen,

i am in a library at the moment. i stopped in to use a computer. there was, however, a 25 minute wait and i decided to spend the time reading some Hemingway short stories. i literally went from his book directly to your thread, and i feel i can say this without being hyperbolic: i didn't notice too much of a difference!

there is nothing worse (imo) than flowery, tedious writing. i prefer short, declarative statements - clean sentences and paragraphs. in this vein i can really appreciate your writing style. and of course, the stories are enlightening as well as entertaining.

thanks for sharing. i look forward to reading more of your stories.

[Armen]

Cross Country Trip: The Outcast...

Even though Porcfest was the primary reason for my travel across the country, it actually ended up being only a small portion of the inner and outer journey I embarked on. There were many other experiences that carved into me and left lasting impressions. Truths that seem to want to be delivered. It's hard to talk about, mostly because I'm still so much inside of it. My throat closes, and the words vanish. I see myself in front of a giant wall, standing in its shadow, looking up to the point of strain, and wondering how to possibly overcome this enormous obstacle...

How do I express what I am experiencing? How can I transfer what's in my heart?

Truthfully, I don't know yet. There are some things I can talk about with great ease. When it comes to this topic, I am truly at a loss. Yet, it seems very important that I work through my own sense of incompetence, and muddle out some kind of communication. So it is with a sense of broken surrender that I pick up the symbolic pen, somewhat resistant, and try to convey something about what I saw confirmed on my trip.

As I have hinted at before, it was full of hidden suprises. People confiding their secrets in me. Lifting the cloak of happiness and contentment, and showing me the face of isolation and pain. Whether it was the memory of repeated sexual abuse by parents, alcoholism, or gambling addictions, each person was living out their alienation in a different way. But certainly throughout each story, there was a common denominator. A silver chord of truth, that tied it all together for me so clearly.

The Outcast.

Perhaps we are all alienated and outcast, projecting a hologram of confidence and ease, when really we are scared and cut off. It wouldn't surprise me given the conditions we set for social success. However, I do believe that there is a certain type of person who experiences this phenomena (exile) on a much deeper level because of who they are programmed to be. These people tend to think and feel very, very deeply. Down to the bottom. They often come with a sense of mission or purpose. They tend to perceive a connection to a greater source, call it divine, call it creation, and it expresses itself to varying degrees in their capacity to experience the enchanted, mystical, and loving nature of life.

The kind of person I am talking about is the kind of person that could easily slip into any group, but fits nowhere. What distinguishes them more than anything, is their heart. Often times they grow up very confused, because they feel an innate sense of value within that is seldom validated in the world. To the world they appear as crazy, weird, boring, weak, annoying, or just flat out not worth considering. In a world that is decidedly devoid of meaning, awe, and wonder, many of these dreamers end up pushed into a corner enduring humiliation and worse, bitter neglect.

Solitary confinement kills. It damages the brain, and has lasting affects on the physiology and health of a human. Many of these people experience ongoing isolation that ends up being much like solitary confinement.

Many Outcasts fall victim to suicide. Others plunge themselves into varying addictions to cope with the constant pain of not being able to express themselves, constantly being shut up or overlooked. In a society that seems to care little for meaning and creativity, they suffer unwaveringly. It is physiologically painful to live so separately as modern societies do. Many more are diagnosed with mental illnesses they don't have. Uneccessarily medicated. They tend to get pushed to the fringes of society where they have little access to resources or participation.

The reason this topic is controversial, is because people are understandably hesitant to single certain individuals out as "extra special" and appoint them a special status. We are all important, but not equal in the sense that we don't all need our needs met in the same way. I don't look at this group as anointed, or more entitled. What I have seen though, is that this group is a minority, and considering the world's population, relatively rare. They are actually, if anything, handicapped. I say this, because their bandwidth of reality is so far removed from the dominant and prevailing culture of perception, that they cannot cope with the template of society very well or communicate. They experience reality in drastically different ways, and literally speak a different perceptual language. They tend to live their lives from the lens of a very expanded heart, and don't know how to cope in a world that requires people to be insincere, self serving, meaningless, and uncreative. This is not a binary phenomenon. There are spectrums of outcast. The deeper someone sees and feels, the more severe the alienation. They simply don't have the interface to interact with the dominant template of reality.

Yet, what they see and experience has a value. It serves an important function in the ecology of human society. They often fertilize and inspire people's minds and hearts. They tend to be able to embrace and understand people on levels that most cannot. They tend to be able to catapult their imaginations far and wide. They are our dreamers, our idealists, our artists, and our pioneers. Yet most go through life unackowledged and unseen. They hide in monestaries, or as vagabonds, or in relationships that shelter them from a seemingly hostile world, yet leave them feeling extremely isolated.

This is a reality. I, myself am living this experience, supplemented by countless examples of people I talk to who are telling the same story in a myriad of ways.

To bring it home, I want to share one of the stories from my trip. I was visiting with a friend in New York city. He told me a story that I think is relevant. The story is of a young man named James who came to work on a farm that my friend was also working on in Vermont. James had a strained past, coming from foster care, and having experienced a lot of trauma in his life. He was "troubled" by all interpretations of the word. Yet, on the farm, he seemed to transform. He changed. He opened up. He started to experience a sense of confidence and value in himself. It was making a difference. However, he was dealing with such an enormous amount of trauma, that he had to cope with it by smoking on occassion. The policiy of the people who owned the farm was that it was strictly forbidden. It was too much to handle for James. He broke the rules and smoked, for which he was immediately expelled from the farm, effectively putting him back on the street.

A few weeks later he tried to commit suicide by jumping in front of a moving car. His attempt failed. After his recovery, it wasn't too long before his body was found stiff and wet in the woods. He had walked out to die, and succeeded this time. My friend shared with me the despair James must have felt, all alone in the woods, scared and cold before he passed away. At the funeral, all people could talk about, was how crazy and unbalanced James was, and how his soul could now rest. Much like the Indian in the convenience store screaming "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY PEOPLE, my friend was enraged. His anger at how James had been mishandled and misunderstood was astronomical. He dreamed about James in the weeks to come. It seemed James was trying to communicate something. My friend told me that what impacted him most, was the fear that he would end up the same way. Dead in the woods, alone. This frightened him to no end. In order to cope with his alienation, my friend has shut himself down. He is incapable of being nurturing to anyone, because in order to survive he has to tell himself that life is hard, and that he has to endure and swallow his pain. In the meantime, he hides his desperation and wastes away. He functions just fine, holding down work and all. But he is so isolated, that he cannot express himself. The irony is that he has so much to offer, but nowhere to take his gifts because there are virtually no outlets for him to express himself.

This is an all too familiar pattern. It's tragic to witness.

His story, is my story, is many people's stories.

What I am working towards is a support network and community that can give these deep thinkers and feelers a place where they can be supported. Where they feel understood and embraced, and where the depth of their being has room to live. I see that Avalon serves that function to a degree. It's why I'm here. But it needs to go so much further. I believe we need to be able to create physical and virtual spaces where people who identify with this experience can come together and talk about the difficulties in their lives, be heard out, and supported in establishing their own creative endeavors. In order to create community around something you have to begin with advocacy.

I don't want James' experience and life to go in vain. I, myself, don't want to end up like James. Found dead in the woods. His struggle lives on in those who continue to struggle to break free of the perceptual chains that keep us from expressing our true nature. I consider myself an advocate and ambassador for outcasts, and I want to ensure that these colorful beings have what they need in order to bring their gifts into this world. They, too, deserve to be loved and appreciated.

PS. While writing this, I was listening to music from the Truman Show. How poignant really, since it's all about the struggle to escape the neat prison of ammenities and comfort that leave one feeling empty and soulless inside. Those who see the problem are often also outsiders as well, and therefore unable to do much themselves. My goal, though I am an ousider, is to advocate and appeal for the creation of a support network, as well as for the integration of these people into society in such a way that they can be themselves, and offer the many gifts they have to offer without feeling attacked or disregarded.

I will continue to write about this as time goes on. For now, I thank you for giving me your time to express myself...

with gratitude

Armen

[Intraphase]

You have good writing skills; pacing, plot arc,
use of descriptive and good overall general rhythm of presentation.

Life is tough sometimes and sorrowful.
This is a dream story hiding a self to self dialogue.
I believe self dialogue justly and mercifully piloting ones consciousness
is the ultimate key to surviving and accepting what can't be changed and
changing what can be changed.

The Warrior And The Rock.

It reminds me of an old story, where an Indian warrior
fights and wins battle after battle. One day he is walking
through the mountains and a rock says to him, “Every battle you
have fought, you have won. Each battle was for the protection of
the dreamer and his dream. Though you won every battle; you
shall still lose the war, because you are to tired now, from all
the battles you fought, to enjoy the dream, like those who
simply come to dream a dream and not destroy the dreams of
others"
The warrior was indignant: “You have no right to speak to
me that way. You are a rock, your partners and cohorts are
rocks; your way, time and methods of operating are different"
The rock said to the warrior, “If you have the courage to
trust me, sit upon my smooth top, that is as comfortable as a
fine hand made chair, from the shops far away in the land of the
yellow men.”
The warrior knowing he could call upon all his powers: if
the rock tried to seize him, holding him captive for one of his
enemies to slay at will, decided to sit on the rock, and told
the rock that it was true; the rock was as comfortable as a
chair.


The rock said; “Please be patient this lesson takes time.”
So, very soon, young antelopes began appearing in the clearing,
below the hill; which the rock had chosen as its home. Far off
to the side of the clearing, stood a great mighty old antelope,
of many years; that did not take to the field of battle.
The young antelopes, engaged in fierce horn locking, head
butting battles, for three days running; until only one remained
standing. The victorious young antelope had earned the right to
mate with the females of that year’s fertility cloud.
The old antelope that had stood patiently off to the far
side of the field, slowly approached the winner of the many
battles and said; “You are tired from defeating all your
opponents. If you were to begin mating, one might approach from
behind, taking you unaware. If you allow me one of the fertile
clouded females, I shall protect you from behind, leaving with
her, only when you are done impregnating the others; for next
year’s tribe of young.”
The great warrior antelope, fatigued from many victories,
realized the common sense of the old wise antelope’s
proposition. He agreed and began penetrating the females that
were waiting for him, clustered in the wooded groves,
surrounding the field of battle. As he continued, he was always
watched and protected from behind, by the old antelope.


During the mating process, one by one, three females moved
to the side of the old antelope, signaling their willingness to
be the one to be sacrificed; to the older less virile male.
After the great buck had impregnated all the fertile
clouded females, except; the three reserved to the old antelope.
He asked the old antelope; if he wanted to engage in symbolic
battle, for the females he had laid claim too: as his price for
protecting the great bucks rear quarter.
The old antelope knew deception was possible, but relished
the opportunity for a battle; even if only a symbolic one, with
the young, newly victorious, great antelope.
With all the females watching, they stood head butt to head
butt and locked horns; each then taking three massive steps
backwards. They took a charging stance: then froze in place.
At the slightest flinch of either buck, they were to
charge. They both stood absolutely motionless, staring at each
other for so long a time; that all the females were eager with
anticipation wondering if this might be a real battle.
The great warrior antelope blinked his left eye. The old
antelope charged locking horns and butts in a mighty thud.
Once again they took three steps backwards, waiting a long
time to signal each other. Then, the old warrior blinked his
left eye.


The great young buck lunged at the old antelope locking
horns and butts with a loud thud; but not as loud as the first.
The process continued forward, one last time, as they ever
so slowly back paced, standing for many minutes, staring into
each others eyes. The young great warrior buck, who owned this
year’s cloud of fertile females, took another step backwards,
signaling his refusal to fight on. The old mighty antelope and
the two females he had chosen: out of the three females who had
offered themselves, to be sacrificed from the future cloud;
gathered together, to move to the less populated North Country.
The young great warrior buck with his new cloud of females,
followed at a safe distance. They made sure the old buck and his
females crossed safely into the northland territory.
Where it was known, no antelope had ever ventured, to try
to live: until this first moments sojourn, of the old noble buck
and his two females. At the border, the young buck bleated an
enormously loud call. The old buck raised his horns three times
in salute, and they never saw each other again.
The Indian warrior: who had sat transfixed by the drama, on
the talking comfort stone, without food or water for the full
three days, said to the stone: “You have spoken with truth and
wisdom; a great story. This proves to me, that I too, must find
a solution to my dilemmas. I am sometimes, much like the young
buck, whose strength was drained by so many battles.


Sometimes; I am much like the old buck. Who knew his
strength could not last the full compliment and array of warring
bucks: competing and fighting for leadership of the herded
tribe; and the triumphant bucks right to impregnate, this years
cloud of fertile females.”
The warrior was very silent for a while, thinking before
continuing: “I shall have to ponder the lesson for a long time
to realize when I am the old wise buck standing aside, letting:
"The Flow Flow and The Know Know,” Or: when I am the young proud
warrior buck, seeking a worthy position of leadership over the
herd, by; "Flowing The Flow and Knowing The Know." But, know
this for sure; old talking stone. With this long and elaborate
lesson that has been shared with me, you have taught me; that
both ways of knowing and flowing are necessary."
The talking stone replied: “For my fee, I humbly ask that
you hollow out a gully below me, slightly leaning to the left,
so that I might slide that way in the next rain.
There is a huge boulder above me. It is about ready to fall
in my direct path. I don’t want to be split in two, or crushed
into tiny stones.” The undefeated warrior did as he was asked.
He began digging a small crevice, in front of the talking
stone.


It would channel the water from the next great rain; under
the front side of the rock, so it could slide slightly to the
left and avoid, the coming tumbles, of the larger stone above.
The talking rock thanked him sincerely, wishing him the
best of all things, in his every endeavor. Their paths parted
ways, by spending a few silent moments together, staring up at
the starry night encircled by the magnificent splendor of the
Milky Way. They peacefully gazed upon the dreamer, dreaming the
dream.

[Armen]

What's Standing in the Way of Progress?

So much to say...How to squeeze it out through linear thought?

I am persistently motivated by a sense of urgency. One, because so much is possible. Two, because so much work needs to be done. In trying to decipher the causes and reasons why our lives are the way they are, I have noticed certain patterns that I would like to share.

Words are like flowers. They give off a perfume. A signal. Those who resonate with their particular scent come like bees, pick up their messages like pollen, and carry them across the land to other fertile minds like soil. Words are how people find each other. Messages carry frequencies and resonances.

Groups are stronger than individuals. For those who dare to come together behind an idea, they can accomplish a lot in a short time. Getting people to that point where they are ready to come together takes a long, long time.

Do we have time?

The majority of people I meet and talk to, who genuinely care and want to act on positive change, feel helpless and lost. They don't see their own innate wisdoms and talents. They tend to think from the perspective of what is, not what could be, or what should be.

It is important to get an individual to suspend the grooves and pathways of "doing" they are so accustomed to, and walk them back to the bubbling spring of their imagination. From that location vision springs forth, and then it's simply a matter of standing on a blank canvas and building a bridge between the vision, and what is.

Most people's talents come to them so easily, they don't even realize it's a talent.

Isolation kills.

To be connected to a group of people that consistently encourage, support, and appreciate you can drastically alter your energy levels, your physical health, your state of mind, your mentality/health, the way you see and experience yourself, and your confidence; even your capacity to love and act in a loving manner.

We have the option of bringing out the best in each other by witnessing and showing appreciation for each other.

Most people I know are living in isolation, situated in predicaments where they feel unseen, unloved, misunderstood, and overlooked. Where they cannot even mention or express how much they are suffering. So they put on a face and pretend that everything's ok when, clearly, it's not.

For something to exist, it must have a space to exist within. If we want people to speak the truth, we must create the space for the truth to be told. Were we to do this on a societal scale, we would hear how tremendously sad and anxious people are, simply because they don't have anyone to talk to about who they really are.

I seriously question the validity of spiritual practices being taught today. It appears that people are being trained to turn a blind eye to the condition of suffering. Yet, ironically, it is the sharing of pain and painful experiences that actually generates more love and connection between people. There is so much injustice everywhere I look, and as of yet very few places to advocate or express these realities. Often when I try, I am hushed by being called a "victim".
I have found that often those who have benefited from the system in terms of relative comfort are in a way most disconnected from themselves in that they are incapable of knowing their own oppression, and therefore unable to be present to the pain and suffering of those who have been marginalized. The advantage that those who are marginalized have, is that they know they are being oppressed. Oppressed and Oppressor are equally oppressed, because our true heritage is to be sovereign and free, with each other. There is no freedom without accountability and causality. Freedom is hard work.

To allow human beings to voice their pain is truly an incredibly powerful and necessary practice. It generates and stirs emotions within us. Just like when we sit in the movie theater and are moved to tears. It's the same thing. At the end we feel better for it. More alive. More inspired. Healed. Transformed.

If we want to cleanse the planet, we need to start sobbing.

We have to relearn what it actually means to be sovereign and free. It doesn't mean that we can just do whatever we want, whenever we want. It means that we have the intelligence to articulate the process of exercising our rights, the wisdom to restrain ourselves when necessary, and the audacity to claim our own creativity and knowing within the symphony that is our collective voices. Freedom has to be exercised, or it is taken away.

In the search for security, there comes a point when it becomes a liability to security to cling on to what is secure. For, under threat or convenience, it is easy to relinquish the responsibility of being sovereign. Yet, if we do, it will naturally be taken from us. If we can't behave like mature adults, then it is natural that someone else will eventually interfere and govern us on our behalf.

It is time to stand up to our stewards and paternal overseers, terrestrial and beyond, to thank them for governing us in our adolescence, and ceremoniously declare that we are now ready to handle our own problems together. Declare that we are mature enough to be in charge of our own souls. To demonstrate that we are not a liability to the greater community of life in the cosmos. And then demonstrate that we are actually capable of it.

I have come to believe that you cannot know who you are, if you don't know the law. Because we live in a material world, we are in a body politic. There have to be rules to navigate by. If you don't understand what your jurisdiction is, based upon who you are and what you were given, then you don't really have the tools to exercise your freedom, which means you must be governed by someone.

I will end this post with the following thought...now is the time to educate. To take the time and make the effort to understand what it means to be sovereign. To understand what it means to bring meaning to life. To exercise our creativity. To use our intuition and reason for discernment.

Outside of the realm of paychecks and jobs in accordance with the artificial psychology that has been given us, there lives the natural world in which each one of us has a value and a function. In which each one of us has a domain and jurisdiction. In which each one of us is a king and queen with our own court to hold. It is an ecosystem of interdependent relationships, diverse and strong. Take away the paths, the grooves in your own mind. Look at it as if you were in the forest again. There is no one to tell you that you cannot go in any direction, or that you must stay on a certain road. If you can go in the direction, it's a path.

The time we spend doing what we hate, worrying about how to live, or simply not doing what we love, is the time we waste, and in doing so we continue to hold up the machine that is breaking our backs.

They, whoever they are, can only use manipulation and coercion to get you to turn away from your creator. That's what the law says and is based on. When you are sovereign, you are in accordance with your creator. In a society that is open and honest, manipulation and coercion will be easily spotted. To accomplish such a feat, we have to learn to be vulnerable and transparent, in spite of its dangers. Because the alternative is dishonesty, which requires manipulation to get anything accomplished. In that environment only sociopaths win.

That's all I have for now...

[Armen]

On Walkabout

My dear Avalon Friends,

(This was written on July 5th)

The time is now, as it's always been. There is no time to waste. As the past reaches through us, and the future is knocking on our door, we are on a bullet train of experience, poised and ready to make cosmic decisions within mili-seconds, even within the context of our mundane lives.

About ten years ago I, a lifelong outcast, was introduced to Castaneda's Don Juan material. It served as a key that unlocked a code within me. Like a rocket, shedding one layer after another, it focused an already intuitive path and sense of mission, and plunged me deeper into the reality of reality.

I have been on walkabout since, gathering experience and insight. In the last 3 weeks I embarked on another journey that took me from Seattle, across the country by car, to New Hampshire, New York City, Chicago, and then back to Seattle via airplane again. Though the trip was grueling in some respects, it was also incredibly inspirational and reconfirmed repeatedly that something important is happening inside the human being.

Everywhere I went I was met with people who are, in different ways, grappling with what it means to be free. People surprised me with their stories, and no matter how conventional or content they may have appeared, I was always stunned to see the level of depth lurking in the shadows, waiting for someone to be willing to listen.

Consistent patterns emerged that confirmed greater patterns I have been tracking. People are isolated and alone, yet yearning for a sense of community and solidarity that is organized around something that feels bigger than the choices that are available in our modern lives. Quietly, almost secretly, people would make confessions, such as a woman who we picked up in Montana and dropped off in Wisconsin. She was quiet most of the trip, and appeared not to have much of a care about anything. In the safety of the night, while my car-mate was sleeping and we were barreling down the road at 80 mph with the moonlight reflecting eerily off of the swamps to our right, she disclosed to me that her life was exceedingly frustrating, and that she did not want to live anymore. Over and over, the same stories. Addictions to substances, pornography, gambling, etc, are ways of coping with an intensely unsatisfying reality that is bland, abusive, and corrosive. People want to break out of the internal and external prisons they find themselves in, and in most cases don't quite know how. In this regard I have found that I have an ability to provide insight and clarity, to motivate and inspire, and connect dots for people. I am a catalyst. And I am not alone. There are countless examples of people organizing and acting on their principles and values, and seeing it in action is truly inspirational.

The situation is complex, and there are many layers to it, but I see people attacking the puzzle from many different angles. The key is connection. People telling their stories. Listening. That is the lifeline that allows the essence of a movement to become manifest.

In all the sadness I encountered, there was hidden such incredible beauty. People are truly beautiful when you allow them the opportunity to express themselves. I continue to walk with a sense of incredible optimism. It is our collective sadness that will bring down these walls between us. I say, we have to continue to move beyond, and to embrace each other.

As for me, I have a story to tell. This is an epic story that discloses my own path, my own struggles and exploits, within the context of many other people's stories, that when joined together point to the greater story that is being told here on earth. It's as if our lives are the footprints that prove that humanity is indeed on a path, and I do believe that path is towards something incredibly beautiful.

I am looking to gather folks into a conversation that continuously leads to creative action. If indeed there is a conscious faction that is deliberately mooching off of the life force of human beings, it is only because we are not taking responsibility for ourselves. The thing about our prison is that there is no lock. We simply have to see the bars, track the door, and then, ceremoniously walk out. Easier said than done. There are perceptual monsters standing at the threshold telling us to stay put, but they cannot actually physically stop us from walking through.

¤=[Post Update]=¤

On Walkabout (continued)

It is my conviction that on a basic fundamental level, we have to realize that humans are creators, and that we are given the opportunity to exercise our creativity with a sense of meaning and purpose. By claiming those gifts, we do become responsible again, and call the bluff of the world that wants to keep us scared. Like real estate, our jurisdiction is our creativity, and if we do not claim it, others who dare to will claim it for us and use our life force as a vehicle for their aims. It is our choice and responsibility.

I am already underway (there are many years of leg work that have gone into this), engaged in a play with people all over the United States, and probably soon internationally, to create an alternate social platform where the unifying factor is human potential and creativity within the context of a harmonious orchestra of expression. I am continuously looking for individuals that feel inspired to be a part of this drama that is unfolding. Drama not in the sense that it is foiled with petty squabbles, but rather drama as in an exciting, vital, adventure wrought with challenges and tests. An inspirational journey of discovery and expression.

Of course, I am human too (as much as I've tried to resist it in my life), and I also need help and support. I am not outside of the circle in that regard. I, too, have been severely marred by the way we have constructed our world. I too need the warm touch of moral support and human affection. I find myself often isolated and alone, two things that are exceptionally good at draining life force.

[Armen]

On Walkabout (final)

I need to tell my story, for my own sake as much as for the sake of all of those who are walking the road of change. I have seen everything I care about pushed to near extinction. It has been incredibly painful to walk into the fire and continue to dedicate myself to manifesting change, even while seeing everything I cherish and love being systematically demonized and snuffed out. Somehow, by some miracle, I am still here and that which I represent seems to be gaining in strength.

One thing is clear. I can not walk this road alone. I will keep walking until I am either spent, or soaring, but I do hope that others will feel inspired to walk with me, for that can be my only salvation. Truly. To my delight, I have to report that people are coming forth and choosing to be a part of my journey in some way, and I suspect there will be more and more coming. It should not be the seeders of love who are destitute and meek. If that be the case, I say we are watering the wrong plants, but I am biased.

On a brilliant suggestion, I'm going to be creating a thread where I can continue to share stories from my life, as well as keep people updated in terms of what's currently happening. In all honesty, I think everyone on this forum should have such a thread, but you can't force these things, and not everyone feels compelled to be a storyteller. To each their own.

I will be looking to post on that particular thread at a frequency of once a week, just to see what happens. The conversation I seek to keep alive is one that gives birth to creative action.

I will be writing about my experiences at porcfest (porcupine), a gathering place for libertarians in New Hampshire, and the hub of the free state project. These folks are doing some very interesting things in regards to civics and politics, and they are a lot of talk, and even more action. So I intend to report on that as well as a few other keynotes of my trip.

I'm not sure that I have the skill to competently report on the enormity of what I am looking at, but I know that I need to, and that the skill will come with time and practice. Thanks for listening (reading).

When you tune the antenna of perception just so, life becomes a kaleidoscope of miracles, each competing for the chance to take your breath away. It should be this compass that we navigate our position in the world by. Sometimes it means taking a step to the left in order to move out of the way of a baby grand piano falling from the sky, sometimes it means moving across the country. And sometimes it means changing the lens inside of us while someone we love is loosing their mind. In that way, we are all pilgrims in the desert, meandering in a seemingly roundabout way. As the dervish says, those who know who they are are never lost, and so they don't have to worry about knowing their way. Their heart will guide them. In that sense we are all on the same road, comically, tragically, vulnerably dancing with fate.

Why not wake up to the cosmic dance? Why not swirl and dissolve into the chaos of the heart, only to emerge from the ocean of experience with the artifacts of order and language, only to create a bridge between formless and form? You see, even the gods are dancing...

Don't forget that. Promise me you won't, and I promise I won't either. And when we do, let's remind each other?

That's all I have for now my beautiful people.

PS. When I started writing, the sun was just beginning to appear on the horizon. As I make my final strokes (key tabs), the morning is in full bloom, only to reveal a blossoming summer day with blue skies and lots of sun; a rare treat in Seattle.

Until the next time...

[Armen]

The Power of Love...

(written July 20th)

Dearest friends (brothers and sisters)

I am finding that writing is becoming increasingly difficult for me. Oddly enough, as my reputation as a writer is building, and people are appreciating what I am bringing forth through words, the pressure in my head is mounting to be consistent with what might be expected of me. In the fear of not being able to live up to my expectations of people's expectations I find myself becoming blocked, and shying away from communicating. Never fear though. I press on regardless.

This is a process that I think happens all too often inside of all of us. In those times it is important to press on. To continue to reach out and create, to share, because the voice inside our head will criticize and paralyze us if we listen too closely. The greatest lesson I know in winning any game, or hitting any sweet spot, is that it is momentary, and that it will not always be that way. To accept loss, or lows, as inevitable when at the height of your game, takes a lot of strength and wisdom, me thinks.

My intention is to stay within the bandwidth of this magical field I am in. I can only describe it as grace. There are still plenty of ups and downs inside of me, but all contained within an overall state of enchantment of the world. I feel the electrons leaving me. Emanating in all directions. When one lives in a state of grace, I think it is impossible not to spill over into everything and everyone.

What a joy it is to pour oneself out into the world.

I should rewind a bit and fill you in on what I mean. The last time I reached out to you, I had just returned from a libertarian gathering called porcfest. All along the way I had encounters with people that seemed powerful and important to share. Like a kid running after butterflies, I tried to capture every single special moment in my memory net so that I could bring it to you and present it pridefully before your feet like your house cat would present a mouse or a bird.

Pridefully not as in "look at me I'm so great". Pridefully as in "look at what I brought you. This is for you. From my heart to yours."

I just loaded up the dishwasher before I sat down to write this message. Without knowing, I put in the wrong soap, and the darn thing overflowed with suds and bubbles. That's kind of what's happening inside my head. I can't keep up. My mind is bubbling over with the many beautiful, heart-wrenching, joyful, tender, profound moments I am having with other human beings. I can't share it all. There is no way I could write fast enough.

However, to bring this back into focus, I have now just returned from a week long camp with an organization called "The Power of Hope". Their goal is to bring underprivileged, at risk, and marginalized youth, together with youth that are privileged. In this convergence, the work is about empowering people to fulfill their potential, and inviting those who have been ostracized and beat down back into the circle, while also creating awareness around the reality of oppression.

What I saw there confirmed the intuitive work I have been doing out in the world. Even the hardest personality. The one that has been raped, beaten, put into foster care, attacked, shut up, shut down, humiliated, etc, softens with love. When you see it in action it is so mindblowingly beautiful, it's like freeing a wild deer from a barbed wire fence.

When you see another human being run off into the wild, to continue the metaphor, it gives you such a rush. It's as if a part of you was just freed as well. A part of you just became wild again as well.

If you ask me, the reason it feels that way is because it is that way. Imbuntu. I am because you are. We are connected...

¤=[Post Update]=¤

The Power of Love (continued)

(written July 20th)

You see it in their faces. Those dull, angry faces. The ones that act out. That say and do cruel things. That frown. That put up giant walls, but when confronted with the honest presence of inquiry and love, shy away like a vampire under the sun. The quiet ones who refuse to talk, who refuse to participate, who refuse to share in defiance of the whole that has never included them.

The ones that run around the periphery, hiding, capitalizing on all the distractions that keep you from noticing, so they can slip away into the cracks where they feel comfortable.

Without fail, they soften. The shadows in their faces clear away. Their eyes brighten. Their energy emanates out. They begin to take chances. To play again. To be themselves again. And every time they are cheered for in their stepping out, they brighten even more. Before you know it, they are so bright, you are the one who can't look at them anymore. But you also can't look away either. Squinting, and with a singing, swollen heart, you just melt into each other.

The tears flow easily. Tears of joy to brighten the day. Tears of sorrow to cleanse the earth. In that acknowledgment of pain and suffering, simply by allowing people to tell their stories and listening with intent, enemies become lovers. Lovers in the sense that they become each others keepers.

Set the conditions for love, and love will ensue.

And is this an easy affair? By no means. By no means. To love those who have been scorned is to step into the fire. They will block you, hurt you, bite you, because that's all they know. That's the only way they have known to survive the harsh realities of their lives. They feel betrayed, and if you try to make it different, they will lash out at you. But, slowly, gradually, as you stay with them, as you take the punches and roll with them, as you persist in your love for them, by inviting them, cheering them on, encouraging them, asking for their input, reflecting how important they are back to them, giving them opportunities to speak, they can't resist. Not a single one. It works. For some it may take a little longer, but with enough time and the right environment, everyone gets there eventually.

What courage it takes to speak to a human being who won't answer you, look at you, or acknowledge your presence. What absolute inner strength and fortitude it requires. Yet, I find that these approaches work, and this camp just reaffirmed this reality in such an overwhelming way.

¤=[Post Update]=¤

The Power of Love (final)

(written July 20th)

I share this for these reasons. It's not as glamorous as if I could walk through walls. If I could walk through walls a lot of people would be paying attention to me. However, I can walk through walls. Not walls made of stone or wood. The walls that people put up in defense of a harsh world that does not give them the opportunity to entrust the precious vulnerability that lives inside us all. Aren't we all there?

What I'm trying to say, is that although it may not be as fun to focus on treating people more lovingly, it is a very powerful and effective practice in terms of creating positive change. From the vantage point of those who act in love and solidarity, the world is truly an enchanted place, and the gentle monsoons of grace are always showering down on you, whether your heart is broken, swollen, empty, or calcified. This is available to all of us. At any moment. We have the power to encourage another human being. To reflect back to them their beauty. To notice something about them. To let them tell their story without fixing it or solving it. To allow our emotions to be taken by what they have to say.

This is the dance. The cosmic dance the dervishes speak of. There is no resistance against it. In its softness, it inevitably softens everything it touches. On the inside though, it is steely and unbreakable, like iron, like the most durable alloy.

Isn't it time for us to soften?

I admit that fear grips me too. Often. I hear stories. That something big is going to happen. We're all going to die. Yes. Someday. And I can track this struggle inside myself. The impulse to try to survive. To position myself just right. I see how I feel when I act from that state of mind. I become tense and petty. What I am living now is far more satisfying.

I don't know when death will take me. And if it's soon, then the more reason not to waste any time. Then the more reason to do what matters most to me now. Then the more reason to wake up every day like a hunter, waiting for the opportunity to bring love into someone's life. To share hardship. To laugh and cry together. To work on a project together. To share a meal. To empower someone. To ask for love. To be nurtured. To walk up to ones own edges and try to step across the line.

I have no security in my life. No healthcare, no pension, no political power, no 9 lives. I can be snuffed out any minute. Just like that. And few would know the difference. Life would go on. Yet, my life is full to the brim. My life is full because I love. Because I laugh and because I cry. Because I sit with people in their deepest pain and sorrow. Because I let people express themselves. Because I am willing to struggle with people. Because I allow myself to feel the outrage that comes naturally when someone is dehumanized. Like the weather, I am the thunder, the rain, and the sunshine.

My reward is that I live an enchanted life. The air is electric around me, and all I see is possibilities. But only as long as I choose to let go and walk the path of heart. As soon as I hold on out of fear, it goes away.

Life is beautiful every day in every way when you reside in your heart and share it with others. The caravan is sweeping across the earth. The pilgrims of love are marching everywhere. The giant bird is sweeping over our homelands. The movement is dancing now.

There is so much more I have to share with you all. I am actively continuing to maintain a conversation with people all over the world about creative action. The internet has made this possible. There is a lot I can't share here yet, because I haven't spoken to any of the moderators about how to do that properly, if at all, on this forum without breaking the self promotion agreements. I am tackling that next. The challenge I have right now is trying to connect what I'm doing here on this forum with the people who are non-Avalon members. If I don't, I will be doing everything twice which is very inefficient. So the challenge right now is to bring together the multiple individual conversations I'm having together into one place so that I don't loose my marbles juggling a million conversations.

I hope you know that you are beautiful, and that you have something important to give. In spirit I stand in solidarity with you, the creator. What wonders you will produce yet. Who knows? But I am waiting with bated breath.

Peace...

[Armen]

Activism...

(written July 31st)

Hello again my dear Avalonian brothers and sisters...

Where to start? I don't really know. It feels nearly impossible and incredibly daunting to try and capture all of what is occurring in my life. Yet, I feel that the more I can convey, the better.

I am a social activist, but even this term doesn't accurately represent what I'm doing. I suppose the important information to take away, is that I am all about taking action. I, like many of you, see the wheel turning in a direction that is incredibly exciting and promising, but it will only continue moving in that direction through our collective willingness to take action.

I see the people of earth coming together in their myriad modes of knowledge and wisdom, and working to put the pieces of the puzzle together. And yes, there is a lot of horror and sorrow to counteract the picture that we are accomplishing our goal of global awakening. That's why taking action is so incredibly important. Acting in the material world is our truest and most concrete vote, and we are being asked to make the vote of our lives. What kind of world do we want to see?

Of course, in truth, this vote has always existed, which is why I don't think even a second should be wasted.

For those of us who experience a bodily knowing that so much more is possible than we are allowed to express, life here on earth can be very painful. Often times the only solace appears to be in hiding, being reclusive, and isolating.

My social activism is multi-teared, but fundamentally rooted in working to bring people together who feel compelled to extend the bar of what it means to be human living here on earth, and catalyzing action. While I believe in identifying problems, and understanding the nature of where we stand, I am primarily solution focused. What is the alternative?

The pulse that I follow, is that of interconnectedness. That freedom, our most intrinsic desire, is not about doing whatever we want, whenever we want, but about demonstrating an awareness of our interconnectedness. About realizing that we are always in relationship, and that we therefore are cosmic dancers, having to navigate and function within this complex web we call life with awareness of that connection. Freedom requires strength, integrity, wisdom, and accountability.

It may at first feel like limitation and hard work, but within the experience of surrendering to that greater dialog and communication between the kaleidoscope of lifeforms that exist in this wondrous universe, something greater is released in us that changes how we feel, how we see, how we think, and what we can know as possible. Bodies have anatomies, and to come into alignment with ones anatomy, is to experience harmony. That's how I see it. I would go as far as to call it the anatomy of love.

As much as this word, love, has lost its credibility with us, often being confined to notions of idealistic, impractical, nonsense, or nauseating indulgence, I maintain through my own experience that it is, indeed, a practical, understandable force in the world that opens the door to realities that speak to our most fundamental desires and needs.

A world without enchantment cannot be true, and a world without love cannot be just. To bring together these hemispheres of possibility are the mechanical processes by which, I believe, we can resonate the kind of frequency that is becoming the base line note of this planet.

¤=[Post Update]=¤

Activism continued...

(written July 31st)

So, now that I have identified myself in this manner, I will seek to continue to elucidate what I am about.

The work I do is unique, and part of an emerging paradigm. It serves as a bridge between where we are, and where we would ideally be. As such, its frameworks and methodologies are somewhat unconventional, when viewed from the perspective of where we are now. When making something new, old paradigms don't serve as reference points. What I mean, is that because I am stepping outside of how things are conventionally done, those modes of service and organization aren't congruent with, or applicable to my needs.

I have to create new ways of organizing, because I am dealing with something that is altogether different from what we are used to. The situation we are in has outgrown our pathways for service, community building, and progress. In this gap, I find myself diligently working in the trenches.

Therefore it is vitally important for me to be able to advocate and share with people what I'm doing, what the situational conditions are, and how people might interact with me if they feel inspired to do so.

I have a great body of work that I am wanting to share with people who would allow me the opportunity to do so. I am not a scientist, meaning that I do not present anyone with concrete, emperical facts, and I am not sanctioned by any lineage or institution.

I am a storyteller who harvests truth out of his own experience. A collaboration between my intellect, reason, intuition, heart, curiosity, discernment, and the sum of my failures and successes. I am a cosmic vagabond, traversing the path of heart, experiencing, learning, sharing, and serving.

Even the hardest of facts are subject to revision, regardless of the field they are representing. Science, Art, Culture, Religion, Spirituality, virtually every sector of perceptual interpretation is merely that, an interpretation, when viewed from the perspective of intellectual correctness.

However, from the perspective of the heart, and experience, it is a different matter altogether. Truth does have gravity and weight when measured by the heart. The intellect can easily be confused and overwhelmed by a barrage of information. The heart can weigh and calibrate the location of truth. The intellect discerns, the heart knows. They are allies that work hand in hand, fully aware of who serves who.

So, those who seek the truth are, as far as I'm concerned, really cosmic musicians. Looking for the notes that bring them to life. The resonance that activates their sense of purpose and meaning. Truth is within us, and always moving. But we need the contrast of reflections from outside of ourselves to bring that inner knowing into conscious understanding.

In this way, we, the blindfolded, must happily follow the tune of truth, wherever it may lead us. To uncover the truth must be a sensual affair, or it is as meaningless as paper money, backed by nothing.

¤=[Post Update]=¤

Activism (final)

(written July 31st)

But coming back to my point, I am procuring a project I call "Spaceship of Imagination". It is an interdisciplinary endeavor with endless possibilities for expression, and a need for people of many interests and backgrounds to come together.

It's purpose is to travel about, identify people who are motivated by a sense of purpose and service to the world, tell their stories, connect and collaborate with people, build bonds, and in doing so, continue to weave an ever-growing community of activists and cultural creatives even closer together with the intention of building support-networks and alternative platforms from which new societies and communities can form.

Within the context of this project, I fill many roles. Storyteller, mentor, coordinator, artist, activist, and teacher. I do feel that I have something valuable and important to teach people, and I want to share that with whomever is open to that.

In truth, what I am doing is just an extension of what Bill, Kerry, and countless others are doing. As time goes on, I want to be able to share what is going on, and give people opportunities to interact with my work if they feel called to do so.

I will continue to share through writing, as well as youtube videos. Again, I feel that my ability to do the work is far more developed than my ability to describe it, but time will change that I suppose.

For those who want to be kept in the loop more specifically, I have an e-mail newsletter that I maintain. Let me know if you are interested, and I will put you on the list. I also have a blog that is meant to serve as sort of a hub for the work I do.

http://learninglove.org

It's still in its infancy, so please be patient with its content. I will be posting more specifics on this blog as time goes on.

In order to augment my writing, I also have a youtube channel. The username is "conversationshop", and the name of the account is Spaceship of Imagination. Much like my blog, it is still in development stages, so the content is as of yet sparse and simple, but that will change.

I will also continue to post information on threads here on the forum. The threads that I am intending to be most active on are "The Road I Walk and the Message I Carry!", "What is your Purpose in this Game?" (both started by me), and the "Activism" thread (started by chiquetet). It is my hope that through a combination of writing and video making, I can continue to play my part in drawing people closer together, and catalyzing creative action.

My intent in disclosing this information is to offer my skills, inspirations, and talents to people who want to take action, and for whatever reason feel a resonance with what I present. I believe I am working in service of a greater good, and simply trying to share it with others with the hope that people will interact and collaborate with me; at the very least follow my journey.

It's astonishing to me how difficult it is to really put yourself out there. So many fears come up inside me, but I have to press on anyway.

Thank you for taking the time to hear me out....

Blessings

[Guest]

re: Fire Indian

appreciate your experience, your passionate strength and the way you write. i have spent quite a bit of time on reservations and grew up next door to four. crimes against humanity are a heartfelt pain for many. i try to remember that all of us have created everything in our world. we are all related....

[kathymarie]

I look forward to hearing more of your story....don't make us wait too long, please.

[Armen]

People Whispering...

(written August 7th)

Hello again my friends...

First things first. Thank you so much for all the messages of encouragement and support. It has meant so much to me. Even if I haven't responded in a timely manner, every comment has been significant. I encourage you to keep sending them if you feel so moved, as it gives me a sense of community and solidarity which gives me a lot of energy and strength to keep going...

From the mountaintops of my own lofty hopes and desires, I come to you again with single minded focus, soliciting the impulse to pull you deeper into the game of cohesive, coordinated action, even if in the most minute way. We are individuals on a journey of discovery, and yet there is always that potential lurking around the corner that our solo journeys might become a collective journey. Community. A dangerous word and concept. For, in the building of community, we have to face all of our own demons. We have to see that life is made of dark and light. We have to solve problems and answer questions that are so easily addressed when sitting on the bench, but when in the game, become insurmountable opponents that are quite talented at humbling our propensity towards righteousness.

I see gigantic concepts at war with each other inside of our minds and hearts. Dominance and Submission. Authority and Freedom. Allowance and Control. Order and Chaos. Masculine and Feminine. Leading and following. To me, these words do not represent two enemies who are trying to prevail over one another. Rather, they represent two lovers who are trying to find each other, wanting to act in harmony. Two siblings who both have a place inside our hearts and minds. One to balance the other.

From the ground. On the front lines. Deep within the trenches. I can report that many people who want to do good in the world are badly hurting. There are many, and they are in fairly rough shape. All too often I hear stories of severe isolation, lack of love, lack of support, lack of understanding, lack of resources or funding, and lack of community. It does not surprise me that many people who appear to be quite aware, often fall into the social category of outcast. I have my own sorrow. My own battle wounds to show. My own war stories to tell.

While there is a strong and valiant effort to awaken the masses, I'd like to draw attention to a cause that in my opinion does not get the attention or recognition it deserves. What about those who are aware, and ready to act? They are suffering alone and in isolation, weakening in strength every day. I see this.

This needs to change. In this spirit, I am working diligently to help such individuals get unstuck and strong again. In some cases it only takes a few suggestions and pointers. In others it takes a lot of time walking people through crisis. I do this kind of work with absolute fervor and passion. Helping people get unstuck is my passion.

Unlike therapists, counselors, or even life coaches, my methods are different. I relate to people, and establish a genuine relationship. Within the context of relating to another human being, all the magic and transformation that needs to happen, can happen. I call it "People Whispering".

This description was inspired by people such as Cesar Milan, the dog whisperer, who are called in to work with difficult animals. Cesar can show conclusively that an animal is not its behavior. He can show how when properly understood and handled, an animal returns to a state of confidence, relaxation, and social competence. My work is much the same, except the animal I deal with is the human being. The mode of communication I employ integrates intellectual clarity, with emotional acuteness, spiritual insight, and kinesthetic awareness. It is communication on many levels.

Often times we discard people who aren't "functioning properly". We try to reform by isolating or punishing, which doesn't work at all, except to compound the problem. Every behavior carries within it a communication; in essence, a request. The more keen one is in understanding those communications, the more in tune one can be with the animal/human being that is acting out.

Essentially, people respond to love and encouragement. There is a process by which they almost have to throw their worst at you to see if you will still be there. If you can handle yourself in the face of their worst behavior, or their deepest insecurities, without falling victim to it, and actually help them have a new experience, then real transformation happens, and a lot of trust is built.

[Armen]

People Whispering (continued)

(written August 7th)

My criticism of spiritual and therapeutic modalities, is that they are limited to intellectual analysis or individual practices of self awareness. They do not, however, take into account that we are social animals, and as such designed to regulate each others behaviors harmoniously. They do not take into account that at the end of the day a strong and loving hug can go much further than a spiritual parable, or advice. In other words, that much of our anxiety and unrest stems from not being loved, acknowledged, supported, touched, or handled with reverence. By simply behaving in a loving manner, much of our traumas melt away, and people find their confidence and capacities again. I am not discrediting these modalities entirely. Rather, stating that they are over prescribed. More than anything, I am passionate about looking for answers through the mastering of behavior. How we act upon each other has a profound impact on our experience of ourselves. I say this from my own experience. I was once that guy that had a million spiritual parables, one more abstract than the next. And I experienced for myself their limitation. I saw that at a certain point I had to simply step over that invisible line and just hold the person, or help them clean their house, or help them get a job, or feed them, etc. That's when I started seeing tremendous results. When I cross referenced my own experiences of how I felt mishandled by genuine people who were trying to help, I knew this was the right way to go, because that was the kind of support I was yearning for too.

I had to show that I was willing to get involved, and stick it out, until the person came through on the other side, rehabilitated, strong, safe, and confident again. That is what being in community really means to me. In this manner, I see that it is necessary for us to come together in this way.

To move way beyond our conditioned ideas of what it means to be there for another person. We have been born into a mercenary existence. "I help you as long as it's convenient for me, and when you become too much of a problem, I'll cut you loose." That's not community, or solidarity. In that kind of social climate, everyone is constantly afraid of getting dropped, while hiding everything that is really going on. It only breeds suppression and manipulation, and feeds industries such as the drug, alcohol, fashion, entertainment, pornography, and food cartels; mere vices to choke the pain of not having community. Who can be honest in such a situation?

We can only come together to the level that we are willing to embrace each other in our pain and hardship. It's easy to help someone when they are strong. It's easy to feel connected when everything is good. But that's not what defines the strength of a community. What defines the strength of a community is its ability to work through hardship. Hardship and conflict show you who is really with you.
To use a war analogy, a mercenary army will always be weaker than an army of people who have solidarity through love. Mercenaries are there for their own profit. The people who have solidarity will struggle together and not abandon each other in the face of hardship or terrible odds. That's the difference. That spirit can't be broken.

Why do I use a war analogy? Because war is symbolic of what it means to be in community under severe hardship. War symbolizes conflict, and therefore the perfect pressure to loose oneself to fear and panic. In the face of this pressure, those who can continue to function together, grow deeper in their bonds. Solidarity.

To put it another way, what would happen in our bodies if our cells behaved the way we, as humans, do with each other? To take poetic license, it is the membership of our atoms and molecules, maintaining their loyalty, that give our bodies solidity. Solidarity. Not a concept, but an experience.
Is it any accident that our communities have been eroded and stripped? It's so easy to conquer people who have no sense of solidarity.

Therefore, I suggest that we must get involved in each others lives. This is risky, but relevant. When I say I am a social activist, that is what I mean. I am establishing relationships with individuals who want to act, and helping them in whatever way I can to get them unstuck and under way. The more we learn about each other and bond, the more opportunity there is to help each other.
In my opinion, there are four fundamental questions that embody this effort.

Who are you?

What are the ways in which you have been wounded and weakened?

What's keeping you from accomplishing your purpose?

How may I help you?