So the thesis of my book is maybe that voluntary simplicity is one of the most important movements of our time. Westerners have had plenty of time to enjoy the excesses of materialism. Now it’s time to mature into a new paradigm.

In most cultures that have Westernized there does seem to eventually be a backlash against at least some aspects of the Western lifestyle. Indigenous people initially want all the Western goods and comforts and are eager to leave their traditional lifestyles behind, but eventually they start to realize that something great has been lost...e.g. the Indian Pride movements that have emerged in South America, after quite a spell where people would deny their own origins, embarrassed by their “backward” heritage; returning to the old traditions and rituals; trying to preserve nearly extinct languages and lore; taking a keen interest in protecting their traditional lands from further exploitation by outsiders. All of these things seem to re-awaken eventually.

And among those of us mostly-Europeans, who were indoctrinated into the paradigm of progress and materialism longest ago and have therefore forgotten the most, even some of us are awakening from the dream.

Returning to simplicity and harmony as supraconscious beings--what a beautiful thing! And yet I still can’t get around the twin issues of overpopulation and urbanization. If everyone got the urge to simplify and return to the land, there just would be no room. The impact of people scattered and dispersed everywhere would be so much worse than their concentration in cities.

Population growth needs to be stopped and even reversed. Empowering women is the key to that—they automatically tend to limit family size as their opportunities improve. As they escape from grinding poverty too and become somewhat educated and self-aware they’ll be better able to reflect on what’s truly important in their lives and in their communities and hopefully one day return to simplicity. It’s bound to be a long slow process if we can even pull it off at all—if we don’t destroy ourselves in the meantime.

But even if the most affluent third of humanity could re-awaken now, or very soon, it would have a huge impact on the environment and it would set an example for the rest of the world, so that maybe the pace of transformation could be quickened.

Somehow this line of thinking has me feeling a little more hopeful today.

Yesterday on the drive to school just west of Brighton we saw a pair of bald eagles in a tree alongside the road. This is now the third January I’ve seen bald eagles here in Colorado. I know there are nesting pairs around here now, but my guess is these January sightings are birds who are just passing through. It’s awfully neat that they’re making a comeback.

So I finished reading Guns, Germs, and Steel. It has only served to raise more questions. In a nutshell, he said that certain features of the land, in certain places of the world, gave rise to food production, sedentary lifestyles, city-states, advanced weapons, etc—all of which proved advantageous for conquering other peoples who lived in lands that didn’t possess these unique features. The rise of culture seems in this context to be an inevitable process of the earth, as does the conquest of less “advanced” indigenous peoples by more advanced ones. Yet, it’s so obvious to me that advanced people’s pillaging is not a productive trend; it only leads to destruction. So what are we to make of all of this? Where is this leading if not to extinction?

I guess maybe it all gets back to Jung and Wilber and our spiritual evolution. As we moved from clans and tribes to city-states to globalization and urbanization, we’ve also moved from unconscious mythic identification with the cosmos to becoming conscious and separate egoic individuals. Our concept of the Divine shifted from it being immanent in all things when we were hunter-gatherers to now (as we’ve urbanized and separated from nature) being an abstract concept—God as Other. The next step in our evolution ought to be a return to Oneness, as supraconscious beings. We needed this period of abstraction to be able to see what we had always been immersed in. Now we “know that we know” and can return in a state of supraconsciousness.

What will that look like here on earth? Consumerism must die. We must stop killing the earth. We desperately need a post-consumer paradigm.

A supraconscious individual—what does that person look like? He or she would not identify with the ego, not be interested in power, prestige, money, or material things, would base all of his or her actions on preserving the health of the earth and all of its inhabitants, would not recognize political boundaries as having any intrinsic meaning, but would recognize the equality of all people. He or she would live simply and focus on the nonmaterial side of life (beyond those things required for survival).

My crazy reading binge continues. Since I moved to Snyder two and a half years ago I’ve read one hundred eleven books, not counting children’s books—eighty-six of those just last year! I’ve just now finished my seventh book of 2008.

It was called World On Fire: How Exporting Free Market Democracy Breeds Ethnic Hatred And Global Instability, by Amy Chua. Her point was that when there is a market-dominant minority (especially of foreign ethnicity, such as the Chinese in the Philippines, or the Jews in Russia, or whites in many African countries) who represent only a tiny percentage of the population but control the bulk of the nation’s wealth and resources, and then democracy and universal suffrage is introduced more or less overnight, it is a recipe for disaster. The angry, disenfranchised majority, whose hatred has been seething for a very long time, suddenly find themselves politically empowered, able to elect one of their own, thus turning the tables on the market-dominant minority. In many places this has led to violence, outright genocide, atrocious human rights violation, forced expulsions, seizures of land and assets, and so on.

I feel like the universe wants me to figure something out. All of these books seem to be leading me somewhere, trying to guide me to make some kind of novel connection. Amy Chua’s book is just one among many that’s pushing buttons in the back of my mind, trying to help me grasp something, trying to get me to the insight.

I think it centers around my need to understand if there’s a way the human race can save itself at this point. Our problems seem so enormous and intractable—yet is there a way to evolve through this successfully?

Another book I read this week annoyed me from almost the first page. I was having a hard time figuring out what exactly was rubbing me the wrong way—after all, here was a woman discussing how to empower ourselves both individually and societally, to explore our full human potential—an issue I believe is being sorely neglected in these times. It should have been refreshing to read a book on this subject. I think what bothered me was her oversimplistic optimism. She would only mention our global problems in passing, hardly giving them any attention because in her belief instantaneous change is possible. She has the New Age belief that if enough people are doing their own private inner work we’ll soon reach critical mass and the whole world will suddenly be transformed. She cited all of these rapid shifts that have occurred evolutionarily in the past, and yes, of course she’s right. I don’t deny that it often works that way or that it could work that way this time. I just also believe there’s likely to be death (maybe a massive die-off) and anarchy as well as, and in advance of, a full transformation.

She was ignoring the major issues and problems—Amy Chua’s example being one of them—that make her utopian transformation laughable. It seems like she is too immersed in our elite American culture to grasp what we are actually facing, globally, as a species.

Let me try to put down some of my thought as to what’s bothering me, what I’m trying to sort out. My thinking is kind of cloudy today, so I don’t know how helpful this will be.

This consumer paradigm bothers me. Globalization bothers me—corporations going into foreign countries, raping the land, destroying what should be left to sustain the people. Huge profits made by the elite few—an instant gratification that pillages the future. Indigenous people are rightly angry. Outsiders do not have respect for local lands, people, and resources.

The whole concept of profit and acquisitiveness feels like a totally off-base paradigm. I think it is evidence of a deep insecurity in the human psyche. It is that urge to hoard—that deep survival instinct, the self-preservation instinct of the ego. We think of ourselves as so civilized, but I see us as still caught up in a barbaric quest for individual survival at the expense of all that is Other.

I am about to start Jared Diamond’s book Guns, Germs and Steel, which I’m hoping will help me sift through my thoughts more thoroughly. I believe that his premise in this book is that geology, and the unique features of a region, help to shape culture and explains the vast cultural differences throughout the world. I don’t expect he will go into the spiritual dimension of the land, but I’m thrilled to at least have found a Westerner willing to address the issue of the effects of land on culture, however superficially.

See, the land is actually what I’m suspecting underlies consumerism and the exploitation of third world countries and Amy Chua’s whole discussion about the rise of market-dominant minorities. People who have lost their connection to the land become those who are obsessed with materialism and those who are likely to exploit the land, particularly on foreign soils where they don’t have to see the damage they do. Amy Chua found that when market-dominant minorities were driven out of a country the countries often collapsed economically because the majority who remained didn’t possess the business skills and financial acumen necessary to keep the country going. What occurred to me was that this was not a failing of the native people but simply demonstrates a very core difference in cultural values. Business skills, financial acumen—those are skills valuable to people who have no connection to the land. They don’t possess the land in their hearts or their souls, so they seek through transacting and exploiting to possess the earth physically. Indigenous people, however, still at least to some extent are part of the land, inseparable from it. Capitalism has little appeal to them. There is not motivation to become materialists, brilliant entrepreneurs, leaders of industry. Manic capitalism, manic materialism, represents alienation from our true identity. Indigenous people are often thought of as lacking in intelligence to succeed in business, or as plain unmotivated and lazy, when in fact they still remember how to live in harmony with the earth.

Harmony might be possible on this earth if everyone reconnected with the land. But in this global society where people have become so rootless, how is that possible?

The other day I read the quirkiest book. It was called Washed Up: The Curious Journeys of Flotsam and Jetsam, by Skye Moody. It was so fascinating, filled with stories of messages in bottles, sunken treasures, ambergris (expensive whale vomit used in perfumerie), cargo containers ejecting Nikes and BMWs into the ocean…. But it was also really disturbing. The picture on the cover of the book is of a Hawaiian beach completely covered in plastic jetsam. One story was about a shipment of rubber bath toys (28,000 ducks, frogs, turtles, and beavers packaged for The First Years company) that washed overboard somewhere near the international dateline while enroute from China to the US. The first toys washed ashore late that year (1992) in Alaska. They continued washing ashore there for many months. Computer models predicted that currents would take them through iceberg-infested waters to Greenland and then to the Atlantic Ocean. To date they’ve been found in Washington state (meaning some went south), but also in Maine and Scotland. The problem with plastics is that they never biodegrade. They crumble into smaller and smaller bits, are ingested by sea critters, release dioxins into the body and move up and up the food chain.

I think the most disturbing (but fascinating) part of the book was the description of gyres, the great big circular ocean currents in the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian oceans which are like “toilets in which the water constantly whirls but never flushes”. The centers of the gyres have virtually no wind, so they are a sailor’s worst nightmare. One guy, with a diesel-powered catamaran, intentionally sailed through the North Pacific subtropical gyre, which is about the size of Africa—empty of islands and other boats. He discovered in the center (actually it has two centers) what is now called The Great Garbage Patch. The gyres suck in garbage and hold it there for hundreds of years, the garbage circling around and around, with each circuit taking several years. Eventually each piece of garbage might be spit back out into the current again, but not for a very long time. The guy (Charles Moore) calculated the garbage to weigh roughly three million tons. And that’s just in one of the world’s gyres!

On the drive to school yesterday (going over Wiggins hill, of course—where I always do my most insightful thinking) I began to imagine watching the earth and its processes from outer space, as if time were condensed and I could see air and water currents that wouldn’t actually be visible to the eye. I saw how the air currents created and interacted with the ocean currents, how the ocean currents influenced the air and therefore the weather patterns on land, how when weather patterns shifted, places like the Sahara dried out. I saw the dust of the Sahara moving on air currents to the Amazon where the minerals and micronutrients nourished the rainforest. In places where I saw green turning to brown I saw war and conflict almost like an infection, particularly around the edges of the brown. I got impressions of initially vast migrations of species, wide distributions of animals, that eventually shriveled up and became small pockets here and there, very isolated.

I’ve always known that most wars are about scarce resources (even when they may seem to be about religious or ideological differences). But this meditation tweaked my understanding. In another fascinating book I’m reading (The Others: How Animals Made Us Human, by Paul Shepard) there was one sentence talking about sky gods and how in ancient times the skies ruled human destiny. Reading that sentence following the earth meditation it flashed in my mind: the seas, the skies, and the land rule human destiny.

Culture rises and declines in response to the confluence of sea, sky, and land—how they interact and cause shifting conditions. To that you could also add the geophysical forces, earth’s magnetic field, its molten core, its plate tectonics and volcanism. This image in my mind could not make it any clearer to me that we are products of all of these forces, that we appear and disappear in exactly the same manner as the Sahara blossoms in green abundance and then browns. Wars and suffering in the brown spots—that’s an organic process, a part of desertification, inseparable from it so long as humans are part of that ecosystem.

Indigenous cultures that honor the wind really understand that the wind gives us life. As weather patterns change, life can dry up in places that were formerly lush and abundant. The earth, the sky, the wind, and the water have given us life.

The horror of being alive in this moment is watching everyone behave as if we’re independent of these things. As if we’re immune to withering and drying up. We act as if we have the option of divorcing ourselves from the land—what a ludicrous notion! We are emanations of the land, a phenomenon of the land. The land houses our soul.

I finished a book the other day about the Kalahari Bushmen (The Old Way, by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas). It has left me sadder than ever about the current state of affairs here on earth. The author lived among the Bushmen with her family in the 1950’s, when they were still purely living the hunter-gatherer lifestyle, in the same way they had for thirty-five thousand years. The last section of the book showed how all of that has changed in the mere fifty years since the author first visited.

The “Old Way” is how we all once lived, as full, integrated participants in the local ecosystem. It was beautiful in the book to see how the people had co-evolved with all the other creatures in the ecosystem and therefore filled a vital but intimately interconnected niche. Her description of the co-evolution of the humans and lions was particularly interesting. Because they evolved together, humans were not typically prey for the lions. Only with the advent of farming was that balance destroyed, and then with a vengeance. Then, humans killed lions, and lions became man-eaters.

The exquisiteness of a balanced ecosystem is what moved me, especially because I had never seen an example of a balanced ecosystem that included humans. Once upon a time we all lived in that kind of harmony, fully integrated into the natural world. But not anymore.

Everything has gone downhill since we stepped outside of our niche and began to dominate and control everything. Is culture a blessing or a curse? At this point I’d have to call it a curse since unbelievable damage and desecration has occurred as a result. Maybe ultimately there will be a bigger picture and this will just have been a necessary evil to get us to some enlightened way of being. But I have some serious doubts.

Maybe the development of culture is ultimately a blind alley—an evolutionary dead-end. I find our survival as a species less and less probable these days. I truly think we’re headed towards a very massive die-off.

Again I reach the question—does our survival matter? Really I doubt that it does.

I’ve already reached the conclusion that my own life, personally, doesn’t matter. Whether I live or die is insignificant. It’s just an extension of that thinking to conclude that the survival of our species doesn’t matter.

Some months back I was doing a little mental exercise pertaining to the end-of-oil scenario. If society collapsed, what would I do? I had come across a prophecy given by a Native American elder to Tom Brown, Jr. about the collapse of civilization. It said that when the sky turns blood red you’ll have one year to flee to the wilderness, and once there you must stay for ten years before coming out again. If you came out any sooner you would die. In the course of that time society would largely be destroyed.

I imagined myself fleeing to the wilderness and surviving there. I asked myself, if I were threatened by other humans, would I defend myself? Would I kill other people simply to ensure my own survival? Why would my survival matter, and how could my life possibly have more value than anyone else’s? I’m not going to have any more children, so I don’t need to survive to propagate the species or carry on my bloodline. So, why would my survival matter?

I concluded it just wouldn’t. I would want to survive because it sounds like an adventure, an interesting test, but it wouldn’t matter.

Why do we fight so desperately for survival? That’s something I will never quite understand. I know it’s instinctive, maybe even the will of the species to survive that manifests through us. But man killing man can never make any sense, especially with modern weapons, since the weak genetically can kill the strong and it’s not a matter of the fittest of the species surviving necessarily.

The rules of the physical world say dog-eat-dog. I for one would rather be eaten. As Spirit we live on forever. So why does this world matter? It’s a manifestation of the Divine, but when we’ve so defiled and diminished it, it’s lost so much of its glory.

My survival doesn’t matter. When I leave this world—today, tomorrow, next Wednesday, in fifty years—it doesn’t make a difference. But while I’m here my duty is to honor the Divine and the natural world and to maybe fight for it, to protect what is still intact and to try to re-awaken others.

I guess it’s about time for my end-of-year reflections. Where has the past year gotten me?

I’m not the same person I was last year at this time—I’ve definitely been changed. Maybe it’s been the most profound year of change for me ever, but can I really put my finger on anything for sure? All I can really say is I’ve deepened my experience with voluntary simplicity, I’ve been exploring human potential, I’ve been studying our current human and global predicament, and I’ve been trying to find my place here in this historical moment. Yet basic as those things sound, in all of this an old paradigm has been shattered, and a new one is emerging for me. I’m being reborn into a new world.

This whole time since I moved to Snyder seems to have been a time for breaking down the old to make way for a new way of seeing. I don’t think I’m all the way into the new paradigm yet, but I do know it involves transcending materialism, transcending the ego, living fearlessly, living directly, viscerally, and immediately, being always connected with the earth and nature, thinking outside of the box, and allowing the Divine to flow through me.

I’m not doing any of that perfectly yet, but I am doing all of it some of the time.

Imagine what the world would be like if all of us were doing all of that all of the time!

I don’t know if that day will ever come. Things look pretty dismal for humanity as things stand. I know it’s possible. In a flash we could birth the new paradigm for society as a whole, not just for a few individuals scattered here and there.

 

 

Is my role to try to coax humanity to transition? It sounds like such a ridiculous, impossible thing to suggest. But how can I know if I don’t try?

I just finished reading The Sixth Extinction by Richard Leakey and Roger Lewin. Two interesting things they said got me thinking about parallels in human society.

One was the idea that “disturbance is the midwife of evolution”. Or, in other words, stressed environments are more likely to produce innovation and new species than are stable environments.

The second thing was the example of birds who became flightless when they inhabited islands where they had no predators. Since they no longer needed to expend the energy to fly, they didn’t bother anymore, and quickly lost the ability.

I’ve been thinking about how modern culture has us living in this dream, living mere shadow lives, basically stagnating. We don’t seek to discover and live our full human potential. Life is too comfortable and too entertaining to be bothered. Why ever leave the couch?

All of this vicarious living through the television and the internet—most of it unreal or irrelevant to our immediate lives. It makes us soft. It’s not just the media though—it’s everything that makes our lives easy and comfortable.

If anything catastrophic happens will we even have any survival skills intact to pull us through? There are people out there who barely have a clue where food even comes from, let alone how to grow it or gather it or butcher it or preserve it. There are plenty of urban dwellers who don’t even know how to cook, who eat out at restaurants all the time. That is truly going soft. What would they do if society collapsed as oil ran out? We’re forgetting all of the old agricultural lore. We’re turning more and more helpless.

We’re so comfortable that we’ve fallen into a stupor. All of these catastrophes are nearly at our door and we do nothing but flop on the sofa to watch this season’s hit crime/drama or sitcom. We’ve become nothing but a bunch of flightless birds.

What would it take to wake people up again? To get them at least to flap their wings a little? They will wake up for sure when society really begins to crack, when their immediate habitat is stressed. By then it could easily be too late.

It all gets a bit depressing. I can’t help getting to the point in my thinking that it just doesn’t really matter if we live or die. The earth for sure would be infinitely better off without us. Why should I do anything to fight for our future? Why does the human species matter?

I don’t know if it does, ultimately, but is there any value in simply acting as if? Shouldn’t I act as if, just in case?

How do you go about creating a better world? I hate our current era and my feelings are so strong partly because I sense there’s a better way within out grasp. How do you change the world?

The things that need to change are so huge—like the global economic system—where do you start? I sense that somewhere there’s a tiny crack, a way in, a way to begin the change. Some infinitesimal act that will expand and expand and eventually cause the whole thing to crumble—to make room for something better. What is that small act? What could one person do? What would be powerful enough, contagious enough?

What are viable occupations in this historical period? Businesses that deal in secondhand goods and salvage-type operations. Organic, biodynamic farms. Environmental restoration projects. Family planning programs, particularly in third world nations. Spiritual mentorship. Green builders who use reclaimed and renewable resources and who don’t overbuild either for family size or the local ecosystem, and only as needed. Healers—true healers. Why is it so hard to think of these? Even some of these don’t work if I require that they “do no harm”. Just how are we to live responsibly in these times?

For me, even writing as an occupation does harm what with paper and ink and printing presses and trucking published materials; and the more successful I am, the more harm I do. Say I become a public speaker instead (not bloody likely!), then the harm would be in transportation impacts from both myself and the audience. Any dispersal of information, no matter what, has a negative impact on earth’s resources. There’s obviously no way around that, but what causes the least harm while doing the greatest good?

First, you would have to make sure you have something truly valuable to share. Telling people what they want to hear, or only what will sell the best, doesn’t cut it. It has to be significant. Then who do you want to reach and how do you reach them? On the fringes of my mind I’ve been trying to work out a way to make a living while circumventing as much of the negatives of the marketplace as possible. There are just some vague ideas floating around that I need to develop.

I’ve been sensing yet again that I’m on the verge of a breakthrough. I feel like there’s a bigger picture that’s about to be revealed to me. Last night while reading a book, something the writer was saying triggered an image to flood my mind. It was of me skiing on top of an avalanche, somehow being able to ride on top of it without being sucked in. I understood the image to represent me riding on top of this historical moment, while the masses are caught up in it. I’m breaking out of our modern paradigm—transcending it. That’s what has me thinking I’m about to see a bigger picture—be able to take in a much broader scope—understand the human condition in a new context.

Think about it: transcending materialism is huge! So many of the agonies of this world are the result of materialism. All of the greed and thieving, by individuals, corporations, nations. The obsessive need to have more, the energy expended simply on acquisition. And the health consequences to people and the planet because of this gluttony. How many wars have been fought for resources? How many lives have been lost on the streets of our cities for a pair of shoes, a gold necklace, a stereo set? How much sickness and death can be attributed to gluttony and addiction? What would the world look like without the sickness and suffering and death that can be attributed to materialism? That world is possible. It is a future we could have. As long as change is possible on the personal level—and it always will be—that world is possible.

Where does spiritual evolution lead us? I’ve been pondering that for a long time, since reading Jung in high school. In the early stages of humanity we functioned collectively and lived in the mythic unconscious. As we individuated we became conscious, but also separated from the divine. Once individuated we must merge again back into the mythic, but this time fully awake and conscious.

 

At this point in history, we’ve perfected our individuality, the little self. We’ve swung out as far as we possibly can away from our true identity. It’s necessary, if we’re to return with full awareness. But it’s a dangerous and destructive place to be, so far away from the Truth.

 

Out of the immense totality of the Divine, as we’ve individuated, we’ve contracted down to little dots. The illusion is that we’ve separated from everything else. The gift is that we can see the Divine as the objective Other. We’re surrounded by it, so there are infinite opportunities to See. And once we See, we can come to realize that we were never really separate at all, never really little tiny dots of individuality. It was just an illusion.

 

I’ve been puzzling over modern culture lately and the way it stands between people and direct experience. Culture inserts itself and therefore puts us one step removed from direct knowing. This urge to simplify is the urge to live more directly. I get rid of those things that stand as obstacles between me and the Divine.

 

Lately it’s been music I’ve been considering. Most popular music, I think, gets in the way. You get manipulated by music. Music is emotional manipulation. It causes you to feel emotions that aren’t congruent with what is for you, in your life, at that moment. The grief or love or anger a song elicits is from someone else’s story, not yours, and yet your body gets washed in those emotions and subtly shapes you, nonetheless.

I do however believe that music can also be a spiritual tool. Participatory music particularly--like the Dances of Universal Peace, and the tribal song and dance of indigenous people. And I use New Age instrumental music sometimes to set a mood for contemplation. Intentional use can help you connect with the Divine. Mindless use can keep you a step removed.

How do I earn a living in this world when I believe that virtually all money in circulation is befouled--that it has caused the suffering and exploitation of countless beings and the earth? Why can’t I live in a moneyless society, one based on bartering and shared endeavors? Money is such a curse for me in this lifetime. I know too much.

 

I think a vow of poverty is a spiritual necessity in these times. My reading lately has reminded me that all of the great spiritual masters have considered it a spiritual necessity throughout the ages, not just now. But it seems especially critical in this time of global commerce and global exploitation and with the irrefutable evidence we have of what we’ve done and what we’re doing.

 

I want my life to transcend money. I wanted it to be about something other than earning and spending, acquiring and protecting. I want to become a person of power. And not power the way it is defined in popular culture--not power based on prestige, status, success, and possessions but real power. The power of divinity coursing through my veins, of something higher moving and acting through me. The gift in this lifetime is all of those past life memories I have. I know I am eternal, so there’s very little attachment to my little egoic self, my persona in this lifetime. I am willing to throw it away. I don’t need anything more from this life. I can sacrifice my persona and let something more immense move through me. I willingly surrender my life. That is my prayer to the heavens these days.

I just finished reading Not Buying It, a book about a couple who went a year without buying anything except “necessities” (their version of necessities being a little different than mine). Reading all of these books is a little frustrating and disappointing. They just don’t go deep enough or far enough. They still speak from within the context of the western post-industrial world view. They’re not able to get to the really profound stuff-- that requires a complete paradigm shift, a stepping outside of the box.

 

I’m second-guessing my whole book idea. Could there possibly be an audience for what I have to say? Would an agent or publisher get it, and believe there are people my message would reach?

I just read a short little book about the skill of healing. It was written by a guy who stumbled into this knowledge accidentally. In healing from a parasitic infection he had come home with after a trip to Brazil, he would go outside and lie on the ground every day. He began to sense the energy emanating from the ground and trees and other natural objects, then later discovered he could read peoples’ energy fields. He realized that by pulling energy from the earth (or aligning your vibration with the earth’s vibration, as I would put it) you can access healing energy. He said that the healing techniques he discovered are identical to techniques used in a number of indigenous tribes throughout the world, but that these are not indigenous techniques, rather universal human ones.

 

It’s so wonderful to find examples of other people who have stumbled into the same kind of knowledge as I have. And how did he get to that knowledge? Through the “emptiness” created by his illness. I’m convinced that emptiness of some sort is a prerequisite for beginning to explore our full human potential, whether it be through simplicity, solitude, meditation, celibacy, fasting, or even the down-time when recuperating from an illness. Being still in some way, creating a void, is absolutely necessary--creating space for Spirit to enter and for human potential to unfold.

 

In a number of the books I’ve read lately, they’ve talked about Native American prophecies that have told of the coming time when indigenous knowledge would be vital in order to save the world, and how many of the elders believe that the time is now at hand. I certainly believe so. Once the world oil fields are depleted, indigenous ways of knowing the world will become crucial. The wonderful thing is that the native way of knowing is the fully human way of knowing, and all of us have the ability to tap into that knowledge. If modern culture crashes with the end of oil, the pace of life will slow down and returned to the basics and people will have the time to cultivate emptiness. I feel hopeful. I know there’s likely to be anarchy, maybe hundreds of years of anarchy, but I feel certain there will be substantial pockets of humanity throughout the world who returned to a right relationship with the earth, with Spirit, and with their own Divine potential.

 

The Western mind, for the past 500 years or so, has veered far away from a direct way of knowing. We’ve created this abstract, symbolic, representational world view. Inserting symbols between ourselves and immediate experience. Even machines seem to be just symbols of our human ability to act in the world. They act in our place, merely representing our own potential. When we do things ourselves, even if we use tools, but are actively engaged in the process, we are changed by the act of doing. Energies intersect and we are vibrationally impacted. When a machine fully takes over a task, leaving the operator unengaged, human potential stagnates. Direct experience is what profoundly shapes humans. Insert something between the human and the real and you diminish the human.

The task of writing a book is becoming very real to me. It’s not so frightening or intimidating anymore. I know I have at least a book’s worth of information inside of me to express, and probably several book’s worth. I’ve been outlining and then further breaking things down to specific essays and it’s all began to feel very doable. I haven’t perfected the outline yet. It doesn’t quite flow the way I want it to, but I’m getting closer, and I know it will all eventually fall into place.

 

But it’s more than just having the ideas and form of this project gelling in my mind that has me feeling very upbeat. More and more I find myself overwhelmed with awe and I realize I’ve been preparing and practicing for this project my whole life. Finally, it’s my turn to begin contributing! I’ve been apprenticing for so long.

 

Research, for instance, is something I naturally love--digging through books, distilling the key information, integrating information across subjects and making new associations. As I take notes and copy down quotes in my notebooks, I’m transported back to my high school days, when I was reading Jung and would copy down quotes extensively from his work. Somehow the act of copying, in longhand, key quotations from these books, is nourishing. It’s so natural, so innate, and it helps to further imprint the ideas in my mind. And there’s more to it but I can’t quite put my finger on it. The feeling of coming home. The sense of coming around to my destiny, and of recognizing how my life to this point has been an apprenticeship. I’ve been in training all along. Slowly bit by bit the knowledge has been accruing, as well as the discipline and maturity to work with it, to find a way to express it and share it.

 

Journal writing for twenty-four years has kept me writing, even though it never feels like “real” writing. Despite the fact that my worst vice in this life is a lack of self-discipline, I am able to be a fairly disciplined writer, just because it’s such a habit.

 

And I can see the form my days need to take in order to accomplish the task of writing a book. The first few hours of the day are my hours of clarity and insight, so that is when I mostly work. The middle hours of the day are often a little muddy and sluggish as far as thinking and creativity go. Sometimes, though, the evenings also are fruitful times to work. I don’t feel as though I need to be working on this eight hours a day. It feels right to devote a few hours in the mornings, concertedly, and then the rest of the day be mulling over ideas more casually, jotting down notes and ideas here and there as they occur, reading snatches of books as I can. It feels like a wonderfully natural process.

 

On the days I’m in Boulder county, I spend most of my time at the library, so those days are really gifts to me. The library out here is really pathetic. I’m really dependent on having access to good quality libraries. Much as I dislike this back-and-forth life, I need things from the Front Range.