I now fly whenever I want to…(7 out ten times at least)…I lie awake while my body is fully asleep and listen to total and complete awareness around me (sometimes even moving objects around the room in some weird Stephen King style state of mind)…listen to occurring thoughts and even conversations taking place around the Universe…I live other lifetimes…I compress time indefinitely, dreaming long epic dreams in proven spans of times occurring in less than five minutes, some even as short as a second or two…I receive answers to pressing questions from my higher self…I commune with my higher self more uninhibitedly than ever in my life…I can invent incredible things in my dreams, and I can consciously influence that process to bring those inventions out into the awakening world…I have even played unbelievable guitar or piano or saxophone in my dreams, I really feel the difference the dream experiences have made for me when playing or learning more on those instruments…

Sleeping in deep conscious awareness is the only way to fly…but it works.

Then I discovered the aborigine…

And the didgeridoo…

The line has begun to fade…

I dream while awake…

The distant voices…

Calling through time

Through twisted destinies

Missed vicissitudes of crystal chimes

I fall beneath the lines committing crimes collecting rhymes

Seeing mystic dancers silhouetted on the setting sun’s horizon

A future is risin’ to answer and wizen

These instants of chances

That fall on the mind

Like petals of steel…

From roses that feel…

In thin screams of real…

I sleep and dream surreal…
So, needless to say, I have an interesting time of it. It is tricky, sometimes, to engage in the waking world and communicate in a way that will be accepted or understood at all. Leaving people behind is completely pointless. One man should not be the only one that slips away from the crowd. The crowd is free to fly and not ask why. The man can stay engaged while high in the sky and can cry in the eye but sigh at the lie, laughing all the while.

This is all necessary for survival—or at least the revival—of the infant we used to be. The infant that used to see. The one that started to be me. You’ll see…

Hallucinatti

September Musical Sky Casals
(On the day she was born, as she lay sleeping in the hopital bed with her mother, I stood and reflected on the days events as I stared out of the window. I had the music of Mozart in my head at the time, and the sky looked just like a symphony with swirling crazy clouds. It was September.)

River Wolfe Montana Casals
(His mother had visions of a red river rushing around her about the time he was conceived and I thought he looked just like a little wolf when he was born [almost named him Wolfgang] and I thought he was something strong like a mountain but “Mountain” seemed silly and one of the midwives said that Montana [pronounced Montanya] meant mountainous in spanish.  Casals is a family name from Catalonia, Spain, so Montanya it was!)

Ananda Cosmos Solaris Casals
(The kid did a somersault onto the bed and into the midwife’s hands when he popped out of his mom and made everyone incredibly bubbly with laughter so Ananda (meaning ‘full of bliss’ in Hindu) was it. And something very deep behind his eyes and behind his mind and behind my whole universe was coming through him but it seemed to be very at home (like from our region of the cosmos) so the blissful cosmos from the center of our sun he became.  [Incidentally, 'Solaris' was a completely made up name on my part. Polaris is the north star, or the star at the center of our sky. So I thought Solaris described the center of our sun!  But low and behold a truck came out called the solaris like the next year!! What the heck!?  And then some MOVIE!? Sheez! Turns out the ficken movie was a frickin book a long frickin time ago! Sheesh!])

Mahogany Wood Rain Leaf Casals
(Born 3 months early, tiny little thing…reminded me of a little leaf that fell off of a great big tree and it was our job to try to catch it before it hit the ground…it was terrifying.  Mahogany Leaf was first, then as we went on the roller coaster of him getting better and then worse then better, etc., His strength gave him the name Wood. As I chanted  to him for weeks on end, the word rain seemed to pop up unconsciously a lot, so without denying that, four weeks after he was born, his name was complete.)

“A tiny leaf falls
From a great big ancient tree–
A hand reaches out
To catch it–
Wood flows like rain…”

fertility on chaos thrives
and gods and demons of destruction
gazing down out of the future
shine foreknowledge through the dramas
made of fears and dreams and wishes
played out by wayfaring humans

shuttling endlessly in circles
back and forth from birth to wisdom
death to folly & returning
while swift elemental spirits
quivering alive in every tree
dance orgiastically

*    *    *    *    *
drummed into being out of nothing
in the firelight of a clearing
on the ever shifting border
between bush and agriculture
predatory dreams and ghost gods
rise to take possession of us
we become what they imagine

wild horses to be ridden
deer for hunting cows for milking
fated to go round in circles
grinding out the salt of sorrow
hungrily towards tomorrow
at the mercy of emotions
that don’t change
are not transcended
filled with memory and knowledge
draining empty wafting onwards
in the breezes blowing through us
always dying to be born

in caverns and on windy ridges
all along the twilight sea coast
like the wild grain of the hillsides
sprung from tiny seeds and thoughtlings
in our green and midnight darkness
we bear deep within us traces
of untold immortal longings
and the world is also ours

. . . and we the world’s
tied like a knot
twinned inextricably entwined
unto the kindling of delight
masked headless burning bright
deep in the jungles of the night
where tiger’s roam and languid snakes
coil silent through the undergrowth
forever dying to be born

*    *    *    *    *
and everything is as it is
and nothing is the way it seems

and all is well.