So, My Interview For Dreamland Took A Turn

Next time you think the world is coming to an end or is so out of control with corruption that it can’t possibly have anything to do with you, ask yourself why bottled water exists.

Those of you who have been following the blog of late know that I’ve been having some fun cleaning out my old drafts and writing tidbits that didn’t make it into my new book. The above quote is me cleaning out old drafts and was going to be the whole of this post. But, I just wrapped an interview with Whitley Strieber for his show, Dreamland, which will air November 27th. It took an unexpected turn for me when he described where I live in Hawaii, painting a picture of a dangerous, beautiful place at the edge of the country and the end of the world. This is accurate, no question. It brought to mind another truth about the place that overlays the entirety of this island chain, which is that it is the heart of Aloha spirit. 

Looooong before I arrived, believe it or not, other people lived here. They are called “Hawaiians.” They, like me, originally moved here by choice. And they carry with them the Aloha spirit, which is another way of saying an open heart, a love for life, and a real care for the land and the sea born of relationship, not a savior complex. 

This place is Heaven; this place is Death. What is it about this drastic place of stark contrasts that attracts such Love?

The Isle of Hawaii is a series of active volcanoes. It is the creator of life and the killer of life. It is the creator of customs and culture and ways, and the destroyer of same. You cannot live here for long without that impenetrable sense of love and caring, which informs how you understand this direct, perpetual lesson in impermanence.

And Love is you, anyway, so why not embrace it? As I said on the show, though it may not feel like it, Love transcends and includes all–including you, the person blocking out Love to find it. You are it. And you don’t have to be this seeking illusion anymore.

It’s probably easier to put off understanding yourself as you truly are when you feel like you’ve got time for that in the future. When you live on a volcano? … Not so much. In fact, to truly live here and understand what living means, it helps when you arrive leading with that Love, not seeking it. This is the difference between a people who calmly clean their homes, open their doors, and invite Pele’s lava in, knowing that it will take their homes in a burst of flame, and people who scream and flail and have a mental breakdown because their home owner’s insurance won’t cover this.

How do you weigh these two minds?


“Who are you in this moment?” That is the context of my podcast, The Experience, moving forward, no matter what the theme of each episode is. We all are at the end of the world and the edge of our country. The country is broken–the system, yes, and about half the people, too. And while Mamma Earth with be just fine, our time here, as we are, is up. The environment is altering us-as-we-are out of existence. The craziness you see around you is what happens when people try to remain as they are while Earth demands different.

It’s funny. Whitley asked me why I am here. Like, what am I doing here? It’s a tough question for me because I talk about all sorts of “crazy” experiences I’ve had and the “crazy,” likely permanent, state of my existence that seems to have nothing to do with Love. And then I end on Love. It seems to make no sense, which you’d expect from crazy.

Sane/crazy, sense/nonsense–Love transcends and includes it all. What else is there to talk about when we cannot get that fundamental right? Where else can we end up when that fundamental is us?

I, for one,  will not ruin Love just to declare, I exist and this is who I am and why I am here.

Because I exist. And this is who I am. 

It’s why I’m here.

I see what I did there, too!

The New Hawaiian Export – a disjointed essay

photo taken in Pololu Valley by author

As Facebook friends are aware through my periodic Hawaiian updates, there is at least one tone on the Big Island of Hawai’i that manifests now and then in the predawn hours. It sounds like a singing bowl and I’ve noticed that it only comes into my right ear. I’ve spoken to numerous people about it and they’re thrilled when I bring it up because either they were “just talking about this with _______ last night!” or they have no one to talk to about it because their friends and relatives don’t hear it at all. None have mentioned the right-ear-only component but not only do I only hear it in my right ear, it usually sparks something interesting in the way of “high strangeness” or “spiritual” or “visionary” phenomena for me.

The last two nights have been completely quiet, but two nights before that? The singing bowl sound. Not in the deep a.m., though, right when I lay down to sleep at around 11:00 p.m.. Odds are it’s toning long before that but it makes sense to me that one tunes in when one is silent. Now, hold that thought. We’ll come back to it.


Last Tuesday I had the beginnings of a cold–an annoyingly sore throat–so I allowed that “meditation energy” I consistently yammer on and on about to come alive in the body to work it out.

I can count on one hand how many times I have been sick since the I Am experience to which this energy led in 2002 (not including food poisoning, for which there is no quick healing, apparently.) If I start to get cold or flu symptoms in the evening, they go away during sleep. If I get them during the day and release the energy, they likewise are gone the next day. But this throat problem–I knew who I caught it  from and I knew I had it all day, I just didn’t do anything about it until I was lying in bed that night. The transpersonal will performed its magic unseen, hammering out lines and pathways along my head, face, and down my chest to my solar plexus, with my hands, where it pressed in hard for a while utilizing a couple of fingers of my right hand like pressure point therapy. In that period I felt the spatial displacement I’ve talked about on Paratopia as the “wub-wub” feeling. It’s as if at that moment you know you are more than your physical body because that moreness shifts; it bubbles you out of and back into place fast, almost like a slight loss of balance, but not that.  More like you walk around all day as your shell until this shift makes the division between yolk and shell clear.

This night’s bubbling out was not fast. It wasn’t terribly slow, either, but somewhere in the middle, and it was “wubbing” my sense of me in myriad directions.


Then the energy concentrated on my throat, which moved the cold from there up into my nasal cavity. I don’t know if it’s because I was lazy about fixing the problem and got to it too late or what, but the energy didn’t take away my cold, it transported it. It chose the lesser of painful places to store it and let it play out its life there. Next day I got called into work, which really didn’t help the cold any, but I was fine with it. In fact, I was fine with everything. I had the feeling of complete satiation that lasted the next two days. It was a feeling that emanated from the solar plexus and permeated the whole body.

Cover your eyes for this kids and relatives….

You know that feeling not just after an orgasm but minutes later–physical contentment with a dash of joy? I felt like that for two days.

Now, recall that this all started six nights ago. Four nights ago I heard that tone. I let the transpersonal will out to play then, too, to spectacular effect, which I won’t talk about here. Spectacular to me, boring to you, put it that way.

Next night, I heard the singing bowl type tone in the right ear as well as a high-pitched tone. The high-pitched one is like what you might hear after a loud concert telling you you’ve just lost some hearing. Tinnitus tone, basically. So, that’s the right ear–singing bowl and tinnitus. But in both ears I hear this low baritone grumbling that sounds as if a truck engine is idling outside. There isn’t one but I’m listening to it, waiting for it to turn off–because it really does sound like an engine.

I realize I can feel this engine like a pressure in the back of my skull. Not only that, the harder I concentrate on it the more it feels like it is coming from my head and leaving my ears. At some point I cough or clear my throat and the grumbling stops abruptly and then fades back in–just like the components of that song, which self-created in the wee dawn hours, sharply stopped and faded in with the opening and closing of each eye. (What the hell does that mean?–I blogged about it HERE.)

I played with this for a while–coughing, clapping my hands, snapping my fingers. Any outside sound I made shut off the engine until I stopped and then it faded quickly back in. Somehow I was able to fall asleep, annoying though the three tones were. The next day, I asked a coworker if she heard any strange tones last night. “So funny you should ask me that…!”

To my recollection, nothing spectacular happened as a result of the sounds that night. I didn’t let loose the energy on them. I just listened for a while then fell asleep.  But all of this has got me to thinking–what are sounds for? Information sharing. Giving instructions and/or cues. Harmonizing. Creating a singularity from  clarity. — These are the answers that leap to mind for me.

In my case, it seems I’m not just hearing them, I am making them as well and learning how to “see” sound. If I remember, next time this happens I’ll turn on the recorder to answer whether these sounds are in the room or in my head. The singing bowl, at least, is in the room. It’s on the island.

Funny thing about this island–it’s got power and everybody knows it from local to haole. It reminds me of Jeff Ritzmann’s experience of Pine Bush, NY–the whole town’s in on the secret that this place is a portal to something vastly different. The difference is, it’s no secret here. The island attracts people here. It calls to them for an education of a lifetime. But I don’t think that education is supposed to stay here.

Anytime you hear or read about transpersonal phenomena in Hawai’i it’s always, always, always  about the recipient’s personal journey. That’s fine by  way of introduction–as I am guilty of writing above–but I think we are missing a key to all of this transcendence-speak, which is that there is a “mundane” everyday level of existence and that needs to be uplifted as well. I don’t think the Big Island is in our ears for us personally, I think there is a bigger global picture involved. At least that.

I think it’s no accident that numerous people have come here to farm only to have harsh economic realities make them fail and go crawling back to the mainland. Sounds awful, right? But put the microscope to it. What often happens is this: farmers come here to farm. Once here they are inspired to be as self-sustaining and low-polluting as possible. They invent new environmentally friendly ways to irrigate crops, for example. But everyone’s broke here so they have a hard time selling their foods. They go out of business and leave here realizing it was easier to farm back home–and with this new knowhow? It’ll be a piece of cake there. Too bad it didn’t work out here.

No, actually it did work out here. That was the point of you coming. You came, you learned, and you left to spread the knowledge that will sustain us in the new economy on the horizon. Farmer Bob didn’t just enhance his farming skills here, he enriched his sense of community. He was drawn here to do all  one inevitably must to make it work, and then got the boot to go spread it. He was set up to fail. Failure here is success for the world at large. If this isn’t also a lesson in non-attachment, then no such lesson exists.

This place is a template for how to realistically live in the rubble of Western collapse. But it’s no good if it just applies to a chain of islands. Aloha is of the world, for the world, and it spreads in numerous ways–not just lessons by wisdom keepers and speeches by spiritual seekers. Whatever you bring here gets enhanced. If you bring New Age baggage, that may consume you. If you bring humanist materialism–well, forget about that. Sooner or later a fireball will come to visit you and make you rethink everything. If you come with an open heart prepare to be filled–and don’t be sad if once you’re full, you’re kicked out. It’s an honor in disguise, if you paid attention in class, because what you really are is an architect for how to live rightly.

The survivalists are not going to define what comes next. It will not be militias and rugged individualists–man against man and man against nature–who shape the moral and ethical code of the species. That mentality is a false rebellion against the system. Such a one wants to be the system him/her self. A dictator of one or of many is a dictator all the same. Dictatorship is the system.

Real rebellion is no rebellion. It’s listening to silence. If you need parents in the sky, think of it this way: the act of listening plugs us into Father Sun, tunes us into Mother Earth, because it is through these connections that Source appears to lovingly grow us. That’s as mechanical as the universe gets, folks.

And if you’re saying to yourself, “Well, I haven’t been called to Hawai’i. I can’t get there–where are my tones? Where’s my school?” Mom’s telling you right now. Stop reading this and listen. Different places on Earth have different lessons to share. She’ll tell you where you need to be, just listen. You’ll feel it and that feeling is knowing. And if you don’t act on it, that’s the personal hell of failure.

Not accomplishing what you set out to do is not failure, it’s merely ignorance of whose time table you’re on and whose needs you serve. Stagnation is failure. We’re living in it now as a species and I suppose you could say you have to hit that mark to know it’s time to move on to the next act. Fine-fine. We’ve hit the mark–now listen for your cue to sing. The conductor is setting the tone.