THE STORY OF JOHNNY WHOOPER SWAN We go to school trusting our parents. We meet a teacher there who stands up front with a big desk, and a pointer. She or he trains us in an authoritative manner. We attach mentally to a life long need for authority in order to live lives successfully. Right so far? In my case, at the age of 25 I was ready to enter the practice of law where I hoped for success and a happy life finally. Very shortly, very shortly, I became anxious. There was a foreboding. I was made more uncomfortable with each experience. Law work is nothing like what I was told it would be. The system is corrupt. But I still cling to my expectation that career success is necessary to my happiness as a man. Each day my grasp of what the fuck success amounts to after all becomes more clouded, murkier. I hear songs on the airwaves and at concerts which describe my life as the life of a fool. What am I becoming? I want to rip off my business suit to run naked in the street with my hair on fire! But I am too afraid. In strange, weird (weird comes from a word meaning wise), fragmented steps I go about a journey of my own believing myself to be the first man to have failed in such a total way which journey works so as to break up my career, end a marriage, and start an entirely new way of relating with my two children whom I love deeply. Almost magically I meet a woman who is a career counselor who asserts a beautiful message that I am made to be joyful in my work everyday and at all levels. This understanding sets me on a completely new course. It is no longer a world of systems to me but an undivided one of unlimited beauty. It reminds me of a painting. A true masterpiece. I am drawn from within to learn the truth about my identity and nobody else can teach me that. From this point onward I will use thinking capacity for mastering mechanical processes and follow my heart, which includes my whole nature, which includes your whole nature and that of every human being for all the rest. I’ll go by the name Johnny Whooper Swan who does not explain itself to anyone. By my fruits shall I be known. Watch me soar!

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

All The Tribes and Their Singularity


All the tribes left behind some stragglers who volunteered to live on reservations to uphold the impression that the white man has conquered the red ones and now dominates all America. End of story. This is far from true. Every galaxy of swirling star masses has at its soul a super massive black hole which affects the farthest star in the swirl with its powerful draw. All power in the galaxy is in the singularity at its core. The black hole is the powerful source which will not be denied and never, never is it mocked. When it moves so moves the galaxy. Creator and destroyer. And so it is within the souls of all people, all who have been, all who are now, and all who shall be.

The red ones followed the others who left before them in a timeless universe. Yet, they did not go anywhere. They stayed but at a different vibration and here and now co-exist with those who think themselves to be victors; the violent ones who only appeared to win. The red ones and the wildlife they cherish who left and all who left before them are unseen by the blind ones who know not of the exodus through a black hole they most dreadfully fear. But the ones who left see the ones who remain quite clearly since they have been in the place they left behind and know all about it.

Strangely, the volunteers who remained behind as stragglers have a job to do. They dwell among the lost and weary, as the most weary of all, as those who appear to be the banished, to arise from the scourge of awful misfortune as an encouragement to others to surrender to a greater good.


The blackest hole is not a dream but the source of all dreamers.

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