It’s. Happening. Again.

Dear Diary:

Okay, okay, I don’t keep a diary, much to the chagrin of one Tyler Kokjohn, who wishes I’d publish a diary. But if I did keep one, I would write in it this….

It’s happening again. I’m being flooded with sensible insights–truths–into life, the universe, and everything, while at work, that are so powerful and complete that I have to stop what I’m doing and jot them down lest I forget before making it home or to the next moment, whichever comes first.

Yeah, even in my diary I’d do run-ons.

The first time this happened it was at a temp job in New York. Thankfully, I had much less to do there than at my current job here, so it wasn’t annoying. Now it’s kind of annoying. Couldn’t the powers that be in my head choose, like, toilet time? Or, I’ve got nothing to do today–Mario Kart Racing, or get crackin’ on that Rupert Sheldrake book, decisions, decisions time? No-no, work. Work time. That’s fair. Assholes.

Still Urgent After All These Years.

The first time was a prelude to transcending… well… everything. I was flooded with these epiphanies, these unspoken and over-spoken points of clarity. They came as facts that appealed to the intellect. Years later, I expounded upon them and squeezed them into my book, Urgency. That they came before transcendence and not after is telling. Telling what, I don’t know, but it reminds me of the fact that the prelude to a deep hallucinogenic trip is flashing geometric patterns and symbols. Logic comes first and then is out the fucking window. Perhaps that is why we are making a beautiful world terribly uninhabitable to the best of our know-how. Let that sink in while I digress….

What comes next this time? After I’ve gotten this round of zeros and ones out of my system, am I invited back to the party I left to write about the party the first time? The first time left me with a decision to make: Go be yourself or BE. I didn’t know what BE-ing entailed so I came back to the Jer we all know and love and stalk and hate. Was it a mistake? Was it the right thing to do? Was the choice a necessary illusion? Does the illusion of choice present itself once you’re “back to normal,” i.e. back to dichotomies?

Perhaps nothing comes next. Perhaps I make a little detour back into mystical writings then quickly get to work on my highly anticipated adventure novel, Fartocalypse. (Just… go with it.)

Or perhaps a mutation occurs. No longer is there a taste of the all-encompassing stage beyond stages followed by a presentation of choice. Now it’s just poof, I am that. And you may never have any evidence that it happened except for this blog post. This blog post and the secret code I’ll have hidden in my highly anticipated comedy novel, Free Space: The Real Life Story of A Bingo Queen. (Don’t be surprised.)

The point is, Diary, this is happening again and so at the very least I’ll have a heaping, steaming, load of new perspectives that will blow the walls off our thinking box. The only question I can answer is: What to do with them?

Does anyone really care about another book? Or a trickle of blog posts? Or youtube videos?

Is there another way that is powerful and actually reaches people? Does it even matter at this point?

Dear Diary:

Are these truths unfolding in my head actually just something that happens? Though they are applicable to all because they are universal, could one small yet crucial fact have missed us completely through the ages?–Namely that, like the onslaught of geometry is prelude to a psychedelic transcendence of personal self into a carnival of Mind, an onslaught of intellectualized truths are prelude to a total transcendence of the personal self, the carnies beyond, and Mind.

Maybe they aren’t for anybody and at the same time apply to us all, which fools us into believing they need to be repeated or taught. They’re in me because they’re in all of us. They are us, voiced or not. And we’re the thing that needs to go. Be understood and thereby dissolved.

If that’s the case then these epiphanies are me shedding my skin. If you pick it up and wear it because it fits and feels right, first of all, ew. But second of all… you’ve just added another layer to yourself that needs to dissolve.

Helping people might be hurting people. Unless you see all of this with the clarity of an arrow through its bullseye.

Then we never need discuss this again.

Um…

Diary.

 

 

We Need To Love Where We Are

Exif_JPEG_422Okay, I think I’ve stumbled upon an epiphany about Hawaii that applies to everywhere. Almost literally stumbled upon it just now as I was walking back from the laundromat.

On the way there a friend passed by and beeped at me from her car. I waved the Shaka sign at her as is typical around these parts. On the way back a bad-ass biker dude I don’t know looked at me and gave me the “Hey” nod. I nodded back. Hey. Whether friend or stranger, friendly-looking or gruff, young, elderly, or in between we acknowledge each other because we’re all in this together. By that I mean we’re all here by choice. There is nothing scary in being who we are in front of each other because the choice we’re making, which is our bond, is simply to be here for the love of here. When locals (and I) have a prejudice against “haoles” (outsiders, generally Caucasian) it’s really the colonizing mentality with an unhealthy dash of Manifest Destiny (recently dubbed “a sense of entitlement” as if that’s a new flaw in a younger generation) that we despise.

When I chose to live in New York, it was for a career goal. “It’s New York or Los Angeles,” I told myself and anyone who asked. Those were the only two places I could ever picture myself living because I wanted to be a screenwriter and thought that defined me. I didn’t choose New York for New York’s sake. I’m sure this contributed to my neuroticism. Neuroticism is something New York is famous for and we say it’s because there are so many people and so many artistic types crammed into a small space. But maybe it’s ambition at all costs that’s causing it, not being artistic or claustrophobic. It’s having to “get somewhere” in your career or with your vision–which are both mind constructs: you’re not actually traveling or getting anyway and you don’t particularly care for where you physically are. It’s not always that you don’t like where you live, it’s that it might not even factor into your equation. You’re neutral on it consciously, putting all of your focus on your goals–but that neutrality is a repression, for we must LOVE where we live because we are that place. We are in it, we are contributing to it, we are taking from it.

I mean, right?

So it’s important to love the environment we are in. And that doesn’t necessarily mean packing up and moving. It can mean taking a look around where you are right now and seeing it with eyes anew. If we loved our environment and us in it, we would not need to “protect the environment” … from ourselves. Think of how crazy that is and therefore we are.

When we live in environments to which we are detached, we need to form organizations to protect them. From us. When we love where we are, there’s no question of right or wrong environmental action. There’s no duality. And there’s less duality between people who are free to be themselves. Doesn’t mean life is perfectly Smurfy, but we’re less a danger to ourselves here.

Except for where Spam is concerned.

Weird Confirmation of A Small Personal Experience

photo taken in Pololu Valley by author

photo taken in Pololu Valley by author

I’ve searched and searched JayVay for the account but I can’t find it. Perhaps I gave it on an episode of Paratopia or in a vlog. Or maybe I just left it on Facebook. I’m not sure–but I know I’ve talked about this publicly. I feel comfortable enough lazily asking so that I don’t have to repeat the whole story, Hey, remember that time a couple of years ago when I talked about walking down the cliff of Pololu Valley and heard a voice in my head that was me but not me tell me to take off my shoes and walk it barefoot? And remember that the lesson of doing so was that my feet just knew where to step when I got out of the way and let them walk, but if I’d intervene to find the shorter path of least resistance–that’s when I’d get hurt (step on a sharp rock, stub my toe, etc.)?

Anyone here remember that?

Now hear this. It’s the first thing McKenna talks about, before the music overwhelms. I believe it confirms what I was saying and because it does, negates what he’s saying in terms of it being an atrophied ability and the need for psychedelics to get back to that mind.