Sunday, February 21, 2010

I'm Here. I'll be Home Soon. Maybe?

I’m still in New Zealand with Maree and Scrappy Duck. I’ve spent two days in Te Kaha with my dad and this is the view from his house. He lives in paradise and every day he wakes up and says thank you. It was raining, but I still love it. See you soon, Simon.

We slept on the floor against this wall. The sound of the sea took a little getting used to, but by the second day it was singing us to sleep.

View to the right and also where we launch the boat.

View to the left. The big trees close to the house in both shots, and also near the beach are pohutukawas.

Sunset with an overcast sky.

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Wednesday, February 17, 2010

The Horseman/Prophet Mohammed Part 2

My son has gotten out of bed and on the way past he has hugged me. His skin is fresh-out-of-bed warm and I remind him to go to the toilet. When he walks away he walks through the dissolving image of the horseman.

It’s easy to believe angels are real when you can feel them touching you, and all the sensations of the scenes are recordable. A thin membrane of every moment in time is layered over and over again. I can blink and be somewhere other than my home. The only present day image is the monitor, a square moon in a sky of ever changing time.

When I work with spirit my thoughts seem random, but I’m in a state of trance and I no longer control the voice in my head. I’ve thought about oil and its roll in the tensions in the Middle East.

“It’s already obsolete and to try to control its distribution is tiresome and war mongering. Let go of what you think you need, and you will be free to look inwards. Oil is polluting your pastures and your morals.

“Turn your lights off, build your homes to live close to your children, and you will consume less. You have the technology to power your homes without harming the environment. You also have the means to work where you live. You are talking to me here, and transcribing our conversation. With this tool (the computer) you can reach the world. This tool can be powered by the breeze that is outside. The instrument used to harness that breeze can be made to last forever.

“You do not need to consume the energy you believe you need. Greed prevents you from introducing new technologies. The wealth gained from oil is not distributed equally. The lands with oil are poor, the people hungry and angry. Only the kings are fat. The industry of oil serves no purpose.”

The horseman’s lips have not moved while he has been communicating with me. The conversation is telepathic. He smiles benevolently, a grandfather’s smile filled with mirth and gentle teachings. I know that he’s a charismatic speaker, economical and precise with his words, but our conversation is limited by the habits of my mind, my personality, and my understanding.

“You under estimate yourself young prince.”

The appellative young prince has made me smile and the horseman’s eyes are staring deep into my own. We blink together and I feel the movement of a horse beneath me and the surge as the steed lunges forward. My thighs twitch and flex to balance myself and control the invisible horse.

The horseman’s energy is giving me that heavy I think I’m going to faint feeling. My arms are sluggish as if suspended in molten solder and I cannot feel my chest or head. The horseman smiles and my legs relax. He leaves as my son returns from the bathroom.

Part 1

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Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Hello from Home

Hi everyone. I’m in New Zealand with slow and patience testing wireless internet. I hope to be in Te Kaha visiting my father in two days so I’ll post something tasty then. Until then who can tell me what this is?


The water in the river Waikato is pristine, and is the clearest I've ever seen it. We were able to see the riverbed in two metre deep water as if we were looking through glass. This shot is taken two hundred metres upstream of Huka falls in Taupo, North Island, N.Z. 


And, in case you're wondering how much it costs to pee in New Zealand? This much!


Talk to you soon.

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Saturday, February 6, 2010

The Horseman, or if you prefer The prophet Mohammed

This is part one of a two part story. The prophet Mohammed has been in my healing room many times. He watched me work for two weeks before introducing himself. I feel blessed that he has the time for me. “He loves you my son, we all do.”

The Horseman

The horseman is here. The rest of the world calls him the prophet Mohammed, but to me he’ll always be the horseman. His hands are calloused and dry, the smoothness of youth abraded by rope and reins. His dark complexion surprises me and his rich ebony beard is indistinguishable from his weathered pitch cheeks. Shadows encircle his eyes, and the whites are grey like an overcast sky. Points of light, stars that have seen more battles than emperor’s flags, smile at me with curiosity.

He leans forward and his scent reminds me of the new age emporium’s that sell hemp goods, incense, and sweat shop produced trinkets from the islands of Asia Pacific—slave goods, two dollars per day, one thousand percent marked up. These thoughts are important to Mohammed, and they’re teased out by his presence.

I think about researching his life, but it’s not important to him. His message is simple, unite all people, the wars have been fought. No man should be a slave to another. Sheiks and kings should lead not rule.

During his lifetime he fought great battles to bring peace amongst the nomadic tribes and the divided communities. Victorious he treated the defeated like brothers, and encouraged dialogue to open safe trade routes and share the oases that had been fought over for so long. He kept counsel with himself and God. He wanted peace and to end the centuries old feuds that had cost his people so much.

My first question surprises me, and I feel like I’m racial profiling asking it. Gegu smiles, and nods his head to encourage me.

“What do you think of the terrorist attacks today?”

“Murder is not the will of God. War is not the way to solve our differences. There is enough wealth in this world for everyone to be fed and housed. Brothers of all races can live side by side in peace, but only if they choose too.”

“How can we stop this violence?”

“Lay down your arms.”

I waited for a longer response, but he only nodded his head to my pause, and closed his eyes briefly. He’s moved from my right to my left and rests his hand on my shoulder. I’m dizzy and breathless and feel like I’m sliding into the floor.

“Eat.”

My body cannot cope with his energy, so I listen to what he has told me. I can smell horses, hear them breathing, and the room feels too small now. I close my eyes and the horseman and I are standing together looking at the stars.

“They have watched over us forever. They are heavy with grief that we kill so willingly, that our uniqueness segregates rather than enriches this world. If we continue down this fruitless path, hate will destroy us. The earth will evolve, but its guardians will perish.”

Without noticing he has held my hand and the warmth comforts me. I can feel the weight of all that we have lost, all that he fought so hard for. There’s no light in hate, and like asbestos lying dormant in a lung, the vibration of hate will in time make us terminally ill.

“Soon, it will be too late.”

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