Coming back to New
Mexico on I-40 the events and impressions of the previous week begin tumbling
out of my disorganized and somewhat crowded mental storage locker, as if I’d
just lifted the door to that dreaded and familiar scene of boxes, dust and
cobwebs. I’ve been working up the courage to sort through to those hard to
reach boxes toward the back. While in Cottonwood, I was too tired to
think. A minor bug perhaps, the ever
present chemtrails, a dimensional shift maybe, but I was a bit under the
weather on this visit. PQ was content just to be In Arizona, breath richer
oxygen, enjoy the company of friends and watch lizards and birds from the porch
with coffee and without worries.
We did accomplish our intended goal for the trip, checking
out owner/chef Vlad Costa’s new location for 15.Quince in Cottonwood. It was
quite a surprise. It isn’t just bigger
than the quaint Victorian cubby hole in Jerome, it’s on an entirely different
scale with an enormously different environment. The new place is huge, southwest style modern
and able to seat probably four times as many. Of course, it has a lot more wall
space for art.
I’ve been reading Rupert Sheldrake’s new book, Science Set
Free. After a long spell of not reading,
just letting my own process sort itself out, I’ve been hitting the books again.
I believe this is part of the medicine path I’m on. Something new is emerging
and I need to sharpen my tools. I read the way I cook or mix paint, a lot of intuitive
blending and flavoring. I can tell when the mix is just right. Not
scientific? Of course not, science hasn’t
arrived at that innate organizing of the creative process.
Yesterday, on the way up Oak Creek Canyon I was thinking
about Sheldrake’s ideas and the outrage they evoke in the traditional scientific
community. Perhaps Sheldrake’s concept of morphic resonance will require honing
and reworking into the future, but from my intuitive, unscientific mind his
ideas appeal to me because a similar concept came to me and others without any
awareness of Sheldrake and I don’t think this is about being psychic. The
popular saying of “it’s time has come” seems to automatically apply to major
conceptual changes. Perhaps Sheldrake tuned into a need to find a new intention
of knowledge. The conventional science operates
with a masculine thinking process of breaking down and analyzing the materials
a thing or creature is made of, rather than what it is as a whole and certainly,
not how it functions within a cosmic level of wholeness. Sheldrake, in this
case, would be an advanced guard representing another mind and another
perspective beginning to emerge into the consciousness of humans. This may be
more important than whether or not he is theoretically correct.
Scientists and others who live in the world of intellect seem
to fall into two primary types. There are those who adhere to and defend the
current cache of knowledge like orthodox theologians and those that step beyond
the boundaries of the prevailing paradigms with their accompanying doctrine. I’ve
come to see this as a temperamental difference.
They are both necessary and yet predictably butt heads with each
other. This world seems to operate on
the friction generated by opposing processes.
However, the concepts defended rigorously by the orthodox, were once
considered heretical and frequently got their discoverers and supporters
killed. Somehow, the orthodox have never
learned that making martyrs out of advocates of new concepts only empowers
their ideas. However, this it isn’t about failure to rid the world of heretics
as much as it is about the impossibility of stopping an idea whose time has come.
Scientists are the current priestly
class and Scientific Materialism is the orthodox belief system. Simply notice
how often science is used to authorize almost everything and it becomes apparent
that orthodox science is the religion of our time. The mechanistic model seems strangely
backwards. Since humans are the creators of machines, machines would have to resemble
us not the other way around.
As we start down I-40, I’m seeing this landscape in a
different way, how strange, and even embarrassing as I notice that my memory of
this stretch of road is wrong or at least distorted. Next, Joseph City’s
smokestacks are approaching. When coming from the east, I look forward to this
landmark, as the first place from which it’s possible to see the San Francisco peaks
behind Flagstaff. However, I thought it
was west of Winslow and now I realize it is actually between Winslow and
Holbrook. Here and there, I feel that I’ve never seen this landscape before. However, I’m enjoying the sensation of looking
through different lenses. I wonder which
impression is closest to the truth and then it occurs to me that they are both
true but incomplete. I’ve been seeing by habit and now the habits are breaking into
fractal extensions or perhaps I’m just more aware of it.
When we pull off for gas in Gallup, PQ pulled up on the
wrong side of the pump. I had to remind
him that our car fills on the right. How could he forget this? Then he dropped
the keys on the floor, behavior more typical of me than him. This state of mind is
either contagious or there is something in the air altering our perceptions and
coordination. Are the chemtrails getting
to us, or maybe its sunspots or a consciousness shift to an awareness that is
still unfamiliar?
Next, I begin thinking about some of the people I know who are
open to alternative medicine, science and spirituality. These are not eccentrics or hippy types, not
that it would be a bad thing if they were, but actually these people are well
educated, highly functional and formerly from a middle class conservative
socially responsible background. They
are not stereotypical woo-woo types, and they are middle age or older, well
beyond adolescent rebellion. Why are
they looking beyond scientific materialism? There must be something
unsatisfying in the current orthodox dogma.
As we drive on, we pass the fourth 18-wheeler within 150
miles, stopped by the side of the road with its hood up and a mechanic or tow
truck attending. It is unusual to see even one.
Perhaps synchronicity has a theme. What is breaking down? As we drive on, I notice another twisted retread
on the road. This one didn’t die easy. I
wonder why retreads are legal. On one of our trips, one broke from a rear tire of
a big rig right in front of us. It
almost caused a wreck. Moving down the highway at eighty miles an hour, they
can cause a lot of damage when they break loose but still they are legal.
Highway rules sometimes seem arbitrary.
The mind conditioning runs deep. No matter how often I experience
synchronistic events, I still doubt my perceptions. PQ reminds me now and then about my flat
response to events that seem impossibly endowed with magic. Our meeting was one of those events. When it’s
happening it seems perfectly normal. Our minds dulled by reductionist
teachings, we look through a dirty window.
When we see our surroundings with sharp clarity and joy, the priests
tell us we are deluded by chemicals.
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| Our Goddess of Flaming Love |
An image of the
Goddess of the New World came to me as we were moving back to Taos three years
ago. Last week I decided to overcome my reluctance to paint in the kitchen. I
found that she had a life of her own and I felt very inadequate to bring her in
with paint on canvas. It seemed like an arrogant sacrilege but she wanted to come
out, so I did the best I could. She is made of fractal energy flaming life visible
and invisible into the space all around her. She is made of original
power. I will use her power as inspiration to lead me
into the future.
Back in Taos, hundreds of Harley’s are buzzing around town
like giant flies. The Memorial Day weekend is the kickoff of the summer season
and this is how it begins. The weather
is good except for being windy and dry, but otherwise open door weather. PQ is
still recuperating from reentry but we are well and looking forward
to whatever is around the corner. Our visit to Cottonwood was like old home
week, but two among our Arizona family are moving out of the area. We were glad
to be there before they left and we all had a barbeque for the sake of
tradition. Nothing lasts forever, and spring is a time of new growth. We look
forward to the next chapter of our story. Creation keeps happening.
