Hawaii: Part Two
Or
Out of the Frying Pan, and Into the Volcano
Now I’ve spoken this catch phrase, "Dominator Culture", many times now. I want to explain it to you, more in full, so we know what I mean. This is the critical chapter of my story, and of my journey.
I saw the ugly, Vicious face of it from bottom to top on the Big Island of Hawaii, and it became part of my quest than, to plunge into this Heart of Darkness, to see it for what it was worth, to know how to defeat it, in hopes of one day bring the information back to my Tribe, whomever they may be, so that we, together, can create new cultures, ones based on virtues of Love, Laughter, Truth (and the exploration of the transience of;), beauty, Freedom. Freedom.
Exiled from these new ideals are greed, domination, enslavement, hypocrisy, brutality, conformity, assimilation… you know the rest. Or it should be made clear to you if you read through.
Don't read this as a conspiracy theory, as they are rife with fatalism; winding loopy ideas together to tell you a convoluted tale on why, my friend, you are fucked. Good stories tell you how to OVERCOME. So please bear through this section with courage as I expose the darkness of our country’s heart, not so that we can together despair, but to recognize the evils, so we know how to defeat them, and not repeat them.
I can only do this, by telling a story, or weaving pieces together of interconnected elements of many similar stories.
Follow the thread:
Morpheus: The Matrix is everywhere. It is all around us. Even now, in this very room. You can see it when you look out your window or when you turn on your television. You can feel it when you go to work... when you go to church... when you pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.
Neo: What truth?
Morpheus: That you are a slave, Neo. Like everyone else you were born into bondage. Into a prison that you cannot taste or see or touch. A prison for your mind.
---The Matrix, 1999
While traveling with observation, one can begin to see not only the traps and prisons that culture has set up for your mind, but of your body and spirit as well.
I was still in search of a psychedelic society, particularly one entheogen in particular: Ayahuasca! A magical combination of South American Amazonian plants that was said to be as powerful in visions as it was obscure (very, very on both counts). It was noted to have legendary traits such as a group shared visions and harmonic bonding. Its value producing healing vistas was said to be unreplicatable. I asked some people, and in my months in Hawaii, I chased rumors, followed hints, as to where I might find it, for I knew it could be had on this island.
In shacks without electricity for TV or music, I had plenty of time for reflection and reading many books. I had long miles of hitchhiking where I could walk and reflect while hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of cars passed by, refusing to pick up a traveler.
The spiritual New-Age communities were unsatisfactory to say the least. They catered to the upper classes who were appeased by hokey ceremonies and easy-to-swallow yet trite solutions to life’s greater mysteries. And these were the good communes.
There were evil ones, and I don’t say that word lightly. Ones of hierarchy through hypocrisy, where communal ideas were laid wayside to hegemony of the landowner. Crazed individuals ran these places in some sort of guru fetish, caring nothing for ideals of permaculture of which they on the surface espoused, but only to place their games of petty domination.
“Oh, you don’t get what I mean when I recite some pseudo-Buddhist nonsense? Sounds like you need to do a week long fast and after do a raw food only diet to clear your mind for this spiritual knowledge.”
No, I didn’t fall for this, but I saw plenty of emaciated human skeletons who did. These places certainly cared not at all for my ideas of Hemp for Fuel, and the fight for futant rights to safe entheogenic access. In fact, there was no psychedelics (that I saw) on these places, and for good reason. A powerful psychedelic will expose the clap-trappery of these philosophies in seconds, and people would see how ridiculous these morons were. But cannabis isn’t quite strong enough on its own, and it can be used to reinforce insecurity and inaction, and subverted into a prevalent attitude of submission and acceptance in the weaker. So I got the reputation of anti-authoritarian, a rebel, one who wouldn't play along with these games.
And I was blacklisted from many farms and communes.
On what does the foundation of Domination lie? What causes man to abandon his feelings of harmony with his brethren for a maligned idea of dominion over him, to cause feelings of pain and suffering instead of love and shared happiness?
I asked this question to myself many, many times as I encountered many other seekers on this Island. Fatalism to the human condition was one commonly held belief. The idea that this is how it is, this is how it always has been, and there is no changing it. Just try and get along the best you can.
This was the Dark, nasty little not so secret of the New-Age and psychedelic communities at large. A fatalistic lack of imagination where and when it is needed the most have led many of this following, from many different approaches, to a kind of the end of the world scenario.
Man Kind has fucked up, the Empire is too Evil, there is no stopping it, except for Doomsday itself. Apocalypse.
No, you won’t hear too many people say this right off the bat, but after a joint or two, and the subject is breached, they’ll say a certain catchphrase that haunts the psychedelic community, a certain date that this is all supposed to be going down on, and everything is building towards that fate. I shall not name this date here, as to not give more energy to this dark force that resigns people into a passive, inactive state, accepting their Doom. But the religion of Fatalism is not the only answer.
Is it than Greed? YES! But what is this Greed, this blind grab for more, for all, what is its cause, motive, its goal?
Nihilism! The grim specter of NOTHING!
It is the dark path of vice, of domination of all things to be had in conquest before in a ejaculatory orgasm of destruction, this occult desire for the end of all existence.
Shiiiit… umm follow me on this one here…
How can I describe this? How can I possibly give an example so you can follow where I’m going with this? I guess I can stick to my guns, and theme of this website, and describe it through analogy with an animated work from Shinichiro Watanabe.
Here it goes:
In Cowboy Bebop, the main villain and arch-nemesis of the protagonist Spike is his former best friend and partner in crime: Vicious.
As his sinister name implies, Vicious is the epitome of nefarious vice; his manifestations are all in the habits of evil, he is readily disposed to cold ruthless betrayal, bloodlust, and domination in his ambition to rise to the top of the ranks of the mighty Red Dragon Crime Syndicate. When his girlfriend. the beautiful Julia comes between he and Spike, Vicious is pushed to an even darker place, where he becomes the archetypal Nihilist, in a power-mad scheme towards ultimate nothingness.
In the Crime Syndicate (which dictates sin), there is a Council of Elders who are in command. After Spike leaves the Syndicate, Vicious only has two purposes to live for; to kill the Elders, and in turn, kill Spike, and then, accept oblivion.
This model can be applied as an analogy to the Dominator Culture, and the guise that evil takes in our societies today.
They are life, liberty and happiness-denying entities who despise freedoms,
and only lust for control and dominance through various schemes, for at their root, their being is not of light but the dark, the nothingness, oblivion, abyss, non-existence. There is nothing to believe in; no moral code, no love, only void. This is hard to conceptualize, for it is the root beyond the singularity, the one before then nothing that is a point of view, and ultimatum, which the individual can pick between everything and nothing, and people infected by the Dominator culture, for one reason or another, have chosen nothing.
There is a lot of wild energies fluxuating around the Big Island of Hawaii, people have different believe structures and ideas about this, from the Scientology claims (FUCK L. Ron Hubbard, and FUCK all of his clones) of aliens ancestors in the volcanoes causing all of the negative energy in the world (or something), or Madam Pele, a Hawaiian goddess who is the spirit incarnate of Mauna Loa, the worlds largest active volcano, and the fiery temptress within. The one idea that was prevalent throughout was the Cults of Doomsday worship. If you have a society where people are ready to believe a big Nothingness is coming (and there are thousands of such people living in Hawaii) the psychology of these Apocalyptic theoretians is that of a fatalism, as I mentioned before. By taking out their own actions out of the equation as responsible citizens, they live a doomed existence, welcoming this fate by not doing anything to stop it. Such methodology is a stance of victimhood, and there is another, more powerful cult ready and willing to prey upon these victims:
Fascists!
The threat of fascism is very real, for the fear of it hasn’t been assertively vanquished by courageous action, led by a better vision for the future than Abyss Ideology.
Ok, besides the rantings, what actual proof. What examples?
There were many incidents of how my rights and civil liberties and my very life and humanity was threatened, but the following one sticks out an an encompassing example. I was at the library, where I was near daily, after making a long hitchhiking journey for knowledge.
(Picture taken at halfway point where one ride ended, leaving me with my thumb out for the next)
Because of a flimsy excuse about me occupying the computer for more time than was allotted, the head librarian used the opportunity to hassle me for having long hair and strange clothes, and an overall non-Prozac-Zombie attitude. I’ve been hassled by these types long enough to know the difference between fair reasoning and harassment.
Besides, his argument was a fallacy; said I wasn’t allowing other patrons to use the computers, when there was no other patrons, and there were many open stations. So there. Anyway, he used his authority that day, to announce my banishment from usage of the Pahoa Library computers. In disbelief, I walked away, not saying anything or letting it get to me, for if it did, that man’s head would be in two pieces. Deep breaths… So the next day I return to study some texts, no where even near the computers, and the same dipshit told me that I was now trespassing, and called the cops on me without warning. I was adamant. A Library is Public Space. I have as much of a right to be there as anyone. But two cops came all the same, with their hands on their guns. One, hardly older than I was, looking like he was in a meth-come-down, looked very anxious to draw and shoot me. Amphetamine psychosis might explain it, but it doesn’t excuse the FUCKED actions of denying me a right to Library access, when I didn’t break any rules, or upset or threaten anyone, except one dicktard’s notion of an upright citizen.
Corrupt cops (or ISSP in the Cowboy Bebop universe)
For this class-ism I was threatened with violence and jail time. No rights again, for those without money and property.
Fuck off, Pahoa!
Under the guise of a WWOOFer, I maintained my on island image a vision-seeker, for it was true enough, but by this point, I had to know what lay at the heart of all this darkness that I was experiencing on this island. What spiritual purpose lie within? I finally made it, undercover, to a farmer named Ginger connected to the psychedelic cult I was looking for, the users of Ayahuasca.
He led me to his farm in the boonies, where I was met with one other WWOOFer/seeker, a Chinese guy in his late 20s named Bee. We didn’t speak much as I was coming and he was going, but one thing he said later resonated deeply. “I’m getting tired here. This really is a lonesome farm.” I knew how he felt. A couple of days later, Bee was dead, run off the road while biking, but the circumstances surrounding the ‘accident’ were mysterious and murky…
After a week or so of a trial period of working on the farm, I finally arrived at the cults’ bi-monthly ceremony where Ayahuasca would be ritually drank be the group. This cult has another name, and has many people in it worldwide, originating from Brazil, but in the spirit of pseudonyms I’ve been using throughout, I’ll call this cult Saint Doom. My reception by the clan out misfits was less than heartfelt. They ranged in age from the leaders in their late 60s, to a few burnout hippie types in the 1970s, now probably in their 40s, to some guys a girl in my age group (early 20s). There was to be a little under twenty people in all participating.
When night fell, the brew came out with the putrid potion. The elders did little to nothing to prepare me, but my secret faith being my extensive personal history with psychedelics and extreme states of consciousness. They told me virtually nothing of any ceremony, except at intervals, some of them would be singing some sort of pseudo-Christian prayers and hymns in Portuguese, as that is the native tongue in which the songs are sung in Brazil, where Saint Doom originates. Oddly enough, they all wore these white suits/uniforms with navy blue slacks or skirts. I really should have been tipped off to something foul at this point, but there was no going back.
We were in this hexagon shaped room, and in the center was a table with candles and a picture of the supposed saint who founded this cult. Of particular notice was the floor and seating scheme. On the floor itself was the painted on design featuring six rows of leveling pyramids, one from each side of the building, all leading to the center.
So this defined how who sat where in the cult’s hierarchy; the leaders sat on the top of the pyramids, in the center of the room, closest to the table, and the underlings sat in tiers beneath them out towards the walls. Pointedly, I was on the furthest out tier, on the bottom of a pyramid. Very welcoming, indeed. It looked and felt like a hive.
We got in a line to receive the ‘sacrament’. Women got a half dose, most of the others took a cup full. I took this putrid potion. Now, in the course of my plant consciousness studies, I’ve imbibed some rather foul things, forcing down concoctions that would make a billy-goat puke. This was not the foulest (coated morning glory seeds take the cake), but it was up there with a distinct flavor of nastiness. So I threw it down with one gulp and took another, ‘cause I’m that hardcore, motherfuckers! Ye-ah!
Well, I must say, the medicine itself was beautiful, glorious, extra-worldly and earthly, spiritual. humbling and strengthening. By far, the best entheogen I’ve ever had. Stronger than amplified mushrooms: the visions were involving, personal, to a degree that could make you shout for joy and weep in amazement. The dimensionality was startling, the… vibrancy of the color scheme, the download of spirit teaching awareness. What was imparted to me personally was for me alone, and not to be discussed here. But it was good news.
Most of the others who had taken a full dose were having trouble with the new mixture they had made, kind of cementing my claims of my own psychedelic studies put my in a better position for this experience. Most of the rest had to exit the building and puke in the jungle. La Purga.
I was in the midst of my finest trip ever, the tools and the techniques, and this new medicine I now had the gnosis of made a plant ally of the best nature.
This overflow of beauty was interrupted by the group. The ceremonies, well, were quite lame. They would sing the pseudo-Catholic hymns in Portuguese, off key and badly at that. They turned the electric lights on, which just ruins atmosphere. And they did this little shuffle dance. All very strange. What wrong with this? Well, nothing, the ‘leader’ had seemingly done his homework, and had troupe of performers who could sing in a foreign language and do a three step while loaded. I suppose that means something. But I felt more of the New Age hokey-ness wrapped in this. I mean, the Prayerformance in San Francisco; that’s something to aspire to, this was just an exercise in conformity. Which is all fine and good, if that's your thing (and goddess help you if it is), but when you try and force others…
They kept insisting that I sing this lame-ass hymn with them, which I wanted no part of. But in comes some handlers, or something, people who I hadn’t seen before, in suits and ties, (weird) that kept thrusting these hymn booklets at me. No, thanks, I insist.
The group attitude changed (most of them), as they tried to isolate, and make me join this dance and sing thing. This isn’t stoned paranoia here, I know enough about cults that try and play power games with people, and that's what was going on here. They kept this game up of trying to isolate me, and make me feel guilty for not participating in something I had never agreed to in the first place. Now this power games of group accusations took place. Now, to bring this in context, head games with someone while tripping is highly unethical, fucked up, Nazi bullshit. DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME! Now if I had been weaker of will and spirit, they would have owned me, like they had so many unsuspecting ‘initiates’. Randomly dosing someone with one of the worlds most powerful hallucinogens and playing monkey mind hierarchy games, is fucked up to a high order of fucked-up-it-tude.
I got the fuck out of there, and tripped for a while, outside, by myself. The stars were incredible. While in 4-Dimensional Dream Space, I was getting a lesson in the history of the universe that was involving and personal, from the evolution of our species from the stars, right up to why there are fucked up cults misusing plants from the Amazon. Somewhere, deep in the jungles of Peru, a genuine shaman silently wept at the spectacle of how white man corrupts his most sacred plant and friends.
Again, my reveries were interrupted, as one of the non-loaded handlers came outside to try and convince me to come back in. He even tried to get physical in his direction back in, putting his hands on my shoulders to guide my inside. He was not nice, but trying to use his “I’m in control here voice,” Keep practicing fucktard. I gave him a look that said “Don’t mess with the futant on high!” and he got the message, and backed off.
I saw the pyramid schemes etched into the floor, and the pyramid dominator schemes that is etched into the human psyche at large, a spiritual obstacle of fear that has had us, as a noble species falling into the traps or hierarchies with leaders who are the least among us.
The pyramid scheme stood out, how could it not in this context? A striking, powerful vision flashed through my mind, and etched itself on my soul. It was a living, breathing scenario portraying a long line of men stretching from the Great Pyramid to the very portals of great Pharaoh’s house, and great Pharaoh stood with a thronged whip in his hand and applied it unmercifully to the bare back and shoulders of the man in front of him, who was great Pharaoh’s chief overseer, and in the hand of the overseer was a whip of many tails which he unstintingly applied to the quivering back of the wretch before him, who was the chief overseer’s chief lieutenant, and in the lieutenant’s hand a whip of rawhide which he laid vigorously on the quailing body of his head sergeant, and in the sergeant’s hand a wicked flail with which he belabored a whole company of groaning corporals, and in the hands of every corporal a knotted lash with which to whack and whole regiment of slaves, who pulled and hauled and bore burdens and toiled and sweated and built the towering structure of the pyramid.
FUCK PYRAMID SCHEMES!!!
This is not about an advisor giving direction, or suggestion, this is a scheme of orders, designed to humiliate the humble and make greedy dominant. Its about you taking a lesser wage and having to take orders from someone who is not your better, not even do they know more about the job better than you, but holds your paycheck along with your manhood in a sack with one hand, and a whip of do what I say or your fired in the other.
You say it gets better as you go, but is just a level higher in the hierarchy. You become the twisted, now flailing your brethren. The good nigger. A field slave mentality. On a plantation the most brutal wasn’t the master, or even the overseer, it was the slave who was given just enough power to execute the orders of the overseer, and be the one who dispensed the lashes, with a brutality learned from being in that position not so long ago, and now is eager to repay with an intoxicating fury to the underlings.
You think the whip is gone from today’s society, but everywhere I look, I see the whipped. If you don’t play the game, you don’t get paid. The fundamental myth of this FUCKED UP system, is a myth that carried from the first English colony in North American; Jamestown. That being:
If you don’t work, you don’t eat.
Well, nevermind that this was enforced by the lash and gun, and there was plenty of food offered by the native tribes in times of hardships: accept heathen food, you were shot as a traitor. But that has been the fundamental axiom portrayed by our societies… well, ever since we decided to overbreed and overpopulate, creating the necessary have and have-nots. You don’t work (whatever work means), you don’t eat.
Au fucking contraire!
After farming for months, having my hands in the earth and planting seeds, and watching food grow, I knew what it took to produce food, and my body acquired the wisdom of knowing the felt labor it took to sustain. It has nothing to do with pyramids!
The visions and the gnosis continued: I saw the plague of sexual repression, one of the principal methods of control of the dominator system, and that of monotheism, and the ultimately insane godhead that produces.
I saw the greed of power that tried to enslave humanity with these commandments, I saw vice of unscrupulous power, I saw the urge to control. I saw Vicious!
And I felt now, at last, the courage to begin to fight back.
Later, I saw the elder, the farmer Ginger who had brought me, come outside, and try to play one last mind game with me, trying to control. As I saw him approach, I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “What did I tell you about crossing you arms?” he asked me. “I told you that this group doesn’t like that.”
“Why not?”
“Well it disrupts the energy.”
“I don’t understand, how does it disrupt the energy?”
“Well, energy comes down from the universe in a straight line, up and down, and it flows across from person to person…” he rambled, knowing he wasn’t making any sense, “You don’t have to understand, just do as I tell you! Uncross your arms!”
He spoke the words in a tone of occult command. Powerful, evil, obscene, Vicious, magic.
With my arms still crossed, my eyes lit up, and a ferocious grin spread across my face.
My magic is greater!
My eyes sent darts of energy that left him off balance and reeling, and he fled back inside.
I rejected and defeated him!
DON’T FUCK WITH ME!!!
When I felt like it, I walked tall back into the building, where all the Saint Doom cult members stood waiting, wondering what would happen next. I saw them all, dressed in white, yet the light garb couldn’t hide the darkness of the voids where human souls should have been. I looked at myself, attired entirely in Green.
I crossed my arms again, to make the point, and threw out the psychic message to all:
I AM THE GREEN MAN!
I live and grow and sustain, while they float lifelessly around the abyss.
Fuck your cult!
Fuck your Doom!
