Wish Technology.

The other day I was looking at a book of Raymond Pettibon's artwork and I saw this one that was just a box and in it it said
" I see them complete, color, texture. everything." So rad and inspiring to be reminded that we can just be a channel for awesome creation, that if we can imagine something, want something, we can have anything. Some people may argue this and I think its because they aren't really clear on what they want. They don't look deep enough or don't listen to their emotions enough and when they don't wake up with a shit ton of cash in the bank they get all bummed. Get specific, and get honest with yourself.
I want to share a spell I do for "wishes" I guess would be the best word. You don't need anything to do it if you memorize it but I still like to write it out cause it helps me think.

The first thing you do is wish for something.

The second thing you do is say why you want the thing you are wishing for. This is very important because it will clarify what you really want. Like if you wish for money and then you start figuring out what you want money for you might realize its not the money its the vacation or the new shoes or the house. It might even be emotional like you want to feel more stable or calm.

Then think or write down what the wish will achieve. Such as if you wish for a vacation you might say it would help me relax, it would inspire me, it would give me some solitude or maybe quality time with someone.

Then restate the wish with more accuracy. In this situation instead of money I would say "I wish for new shoes with good style and dry feet!" or " I wish for a vacation so I can travel somewhere inspirational!"

The fifth thing ya do is think or write down all the things you will do as this person with airplane tickets or new clothes or emotional freedom. Example- I am gonna fly to Indonesia and eat pancakes on the river and sit with the monkeys and get rad.

Now restate your wish with intention. "I have new shoes!"

Then and most importantly feel the gratitude as if those shoes were already on your feet. As if you were stepping off the plane in your favorite city. Be stoked!

Witch of the Week: Hail to the Male Receiver

Jim Morrison was my first idol. One day when I was fourteen, I found myself in the most random, most miraculous of situations: looking through a record store with my mother. It shouldn't be a strange and random occurrence for a fourteen-year-old to be found in a record store, but it most definitely was for me. For seven years previous and for many years following, I lived a satellite life, revolving around a community wrought of Christian fundamentalism. Rock n roll-- and anything with a beat for that matter-- NOT ALLOWED. No foot-stomping, folks. No fun, folks. Just God. And God is a man. And God is an asshole.

And then, suddenly, I was partially alone in the back of a record store, looking through a big rack of posters. And there it was, a poster with the words, "There are things known, and there are things unknown, and in between are The Doors".

FUCK.

YEAH.

I'm still alive in here. In this fucking mess of do's and don'ts and hell-fire fears and hypocrisy. I've got something to look forward to. So I bought tapes of The Doors secretly and had my own solitary solitude listening parties.

"The Doors constantly courted their muse... Jim believed one cannot simply will the muse; the writer or artist's power lies in his ability to receive, as well as invent, and it was the artist's duty to do everything possible to increase his powers of reception." --From the biography of Jim Morrison "No One Here Gets Out Alive"--

And so I say, HAIL THE RECEIVERS, wherever we may find each other!

Happy New Year WEEAATCHES!

Start it off right, by watching this dude tell it like it is... I felt like he magically made me a better person and a better artist in the span of 30 minutes...

Celebrate what's right with the world - Dewitt Jones @ Yahoo! Video

Winter thoughts

American fundamentalism is against the journey to dark places; capitalism is against the descent to soul; realism is against the leap to spirit; populism and social thought are against the solitary wildness....Robert Bly

I like being a rebel.

This is an essay written by Frances Farmer in 1931. She was a senior in High School right here in my hometown of Seattle. It won first prize in a magazine contest sponsored by scholastic.
"God Dies"

An essay by Frances Farmer

No one ever came to me and said, "You're a fool. There isn't such a thing as God. Somebody's been stuffing you." It wasn't a murder. I think God just died of old age. And when I realized that he wasn't any more, it didn't shock me. It seemed natural and right.

Maybe it was because I was never properly impressed with a religion. I went to Sunday school and liked the stories about Christ and the Christmas star. They were beautiful. They made you warm and happy to think about. But I didn't believe them. The Sunday School teacher talked too much in the way our grade school teacher used to when she told us about George Washington. Pleasant, pretty stories, but not true.

Religion was too vague. God was different. He was something real, something I could feel. But there were only certain times when I could feel it. I used to lie between cool, clean sheets at night after I'd had a bath, after I had washed my hair and scrubbed my knuckles and finger nails and teeth. Then I could lie quite still in the dark with my face to the window with the trees in it, and talk to God. "I am clean, now. I've never been as clean. I'll never be cleaner." And somehow, it was God. I wasn't sure that it was … just something cool and dark and clean.

That wasn't religion, though. There was too much of the physical about it. I couldn't get that same feeling during the day, with my hands in dirty dish water and the hard sun showing up the dirtiness on the roof-tops. And after a time, even at night, the feeling of God didn't last. I began to wonder what the minister meant when he said, "God, the father, sees even the smallest sparrow fall. He watches over all his children." That jumbled it all up for me. But I was sure of one thing. If God were a father, with children, that cleanliness I had been feeling wasn't God. So at night, when I went to bed, I would think, "I am clean. I am sleepy." And then I went to sleep. It didn't keep me from enjoying the cleanness any less. I just knew that God wasn't there. He was a man on a throne in Heaven, so he was easy to forget.

Sometimes I found he was useful to remember; especially when I lost things that were important. After slamming through the house, panicky and breathless from searching, I could stop in the middle of a room and shut my eyes. "Please God, let me find my red hat with the blue trimmings." It usually worked. God became a super-father that couldn't spank me. But if I wanted a thing badly enough, he arranged it.

That satisfied me until I began to figure that if God loved all his children equally, why did he bother about my red hat and let other people lose their fathers and mothers for always? I began to see that he didn't have much to do about hats, people dying or anything. They happened whether he wanted them to or not, and he stayed in heaven and pretended not to notice. I wondered a little why God was such a useless thing. It seemed a waste of time to have him. After that he became less and less, until he was…nothingness.

I felt rather proud to think that I had found the truth myself, without help from any one. It puzzled me that other people hadn't found out, too. God was gone. We were younger. We had reached past him. Why couldn’t they see it? It still puzzles me.

Its Under Water.

This is fucking rad. Take the time to watch all of this documentary, Graham Hancock is rad.

A Seed from Grandmother Spider Woman

Tonight we begin a salon series on all things esoteric here in Brooklyn... Otherwise Salon! I will report tomorrow on all that we learn. In the mean time, giving thanks again to Grandmother Spider Woman for the seed of this new vision!