Red Cry
I'm still in Vermont, planning to start heading west in June to the Rainbow Gathering in Montana, where I am committed to be for the launch of the moneyless tribe, inshallah. I'll probably either hitch or find a ride with somebody already going. I'm hoping to be at the Gathering at least by July 1st, and plan to put up a sign of our location, saying "Moneyless Tribe" at the Welcome Home spot. It's not really a "Rainbow" thing. That's just the best place I know of to launch the tribe - the best place, perhaps the perfect place, to show up without money. The moneyless tribe is open to anybody who will give up all money to their name and take the plunge with me, in a wandering, ecumenical concensus-led community for the purpose of doing free service as well as raising awareness. Having no house and no money to fall back on should select out the non-committed, and instill what faith really feels like. It could be a big group, or small. We don't know, and that's what makes this exciting. If your inspiration turns out to be greater than your fear, you will come, and it is for you. More details later.
Red Cry
I'm not blogging much this post. I want to devote it to our Lakota Truth Tour documentary, Red Cry (1 hour, 52 min.)
Another Moneyless Guy You Ought to Know About
As a bonus, I'm posting a link to the delightful video (5 min. 25 sec.) about my money-free friend across the pond, elf Pavlik:
elf Pavlik - Strictly Moneyless
(It's a vimeo video, so I haven't figured out how to embed it here)
Lost Porcupine Returns
I'm in Vermont, now, camping in the woods near Montpelier, where my friends, Michael, Sarika, and my Goddaughter, Satya, live.
New Video Interview
A woman from Turkey, Filiz Telek, did his interview with me last autumn in the wetlands near Moab. She randomly ran into me in Moab, not knowing anything about me. And she decided to do this interview. She happened to complete this video and post it on my 52nd birthday a few days ago.
"The man who quit money" video interview by Filiz Telek
http://vimeo.com/sacredresonance/suelo
(I'm not cyber-savvy enough to embed a vimeo video in this blog)
Trickster Mind F---
A bit of notoriety is a funny thing. Every up is met with down, every yang with a yin. My ego has gone to great heights with praise and great humiliation with negative criticism. The extreme highs and lows can tear up a person. Both are illusion. The middle path of reality and wisdom is affected by neither, straying "neither to the right nor to the left." Canupa put me into great touch with the lows. In this way I can find my Strong Heart, between praise and blame.
Canupa, the Lakota Strongheart Society headman, and our main "leader", badgered me over and over in the past few weeks, and played continual, intense head games with me, crashing my confidence to zero. He badgered most everybody. Some days I loved him, some days I hated him. Some days I felt I was in some weird, abusive cult. I still don't get it, sometimes. Sometimes I totally get it. The wounds of the Lakotas and of all indigenous people run so deep it's overwhelming. That's part of the point. But the greatest point, hardest to grasp (or hardest to admit, I should say) are that the wounds of white people run just as deep, with the exception that ours are covered up and whitewashed. We, as all humans, were once indigenous, and lost it to occupation (e.g., Rome). But the Roman Empire continues to this day, and we continue the abuse until we face up to our wounds and our intense fear, hidden under our false show of confidence and power and domination of other cultures, with our condescending "love" and "spirituality".
Am I validating his methods? A horse can be trained with extreme hurt, which is the usual accepted tradition, or with gentle kindness, as the horse whisperer Buck Brannaman showed us. From his own abusive upbringing he knew one could learn through abuse, but much healthier learning through kindness and respect. A valid human baby can be born through rape, or can be born through loving kindness.
Confession: I reluctantly used money
One thing that happened at a fuel stop on our trip was Canupa told me to get him a couple Monster energy drinks, handing me money to buy them for him. He'd be the first to admit he is addicted to those things, along with constant junk food. He told me to get one for myself, too. He knew I didn't use money. I also had zero desire for a Monster energy drink, both because the thought of it sickened me and because it supported the ridiculous corporations that cause the damage we were supposed to be against. But I used his money to buy his two drinks. He asked me where mine was, and told me to go back and buy one for myself. Silly me, I did, not to please myself, but Canupa. Giving my power away, as he liked to point out in me. I said to Canupa, "Kind of ironic, that it's an Indian who gets me to use money again, huh?" Naomi told me it was a lesson that money is just an illusion that doesn't matter, to neither love it or hate it, both of which give it credence. But deep inside my heart, I knew I gave into bullshit, letting myself be duped. I drank a third of that venom, thinking I should at least enjoy it. But I didn't, and its obscene amount of caffeine gave me a headache, so I threw the rest out, feeling weak and stupid. Another head game.
One thing Canupa likes to say is to not trust anyone, not even him. Trust only your heart, he'd say. After leaving him, I start really getting it. Stop being weak. Follow your heart, what you know to be true. You're not the strong wise guy you might think you are.
We could throw it back and look at Canupa's faults or motives. And this is part of the trick. As my friend Michael just told me, when you're stabbed with a dagger, what good does it do to analyze the motives of the one who stabbed you?
Second Money Test
The official Lakota Truth Tour ended in Washington DC on April 16th, and we were heading back west, I had my friends drop me off in Pennsylvania so I could hitch-hike up to Vermont. (In reality, the Truth Tour is still happening).
Yes, I decided to have them drop me off at I-99 in Pennsylvania to hitch north. As we all hugged and said our goodbyes, Canupa handed me a wad of money and said, "buy yourself some food." This time he seemed genuinely worried about me, and he told me so, as if he were letting a lost little boy wander off alone, as if I hadn't been wandering unscathed like this for 13 years. I told him he knew I didn't use money, but he pressed it into my hand anyway, so I took it. Naomi asked me if I had enough, and I looked at her in astonishment, then said, "I don't usually use money", thinking of the Monster drink episode.
I put the wad in my back pocket and waved at them as they drove off with worried looks. Right or wrong, it felt to me like parents who had no clue what I'm about. But I did feel utter lack of confidence and feeling stupid in their presence, until they left. Then, when they were out of sight, I started feeling free and powerful again, intermittently with throbbing weakness and low self-worth.
A mid-aged man who happened intermittently go to Ecuador to do Christian mission work (Ecuador was where I was in the Peace Corps and where missionary friends of my family were stationed) gave me a ride to the next exit 15 miles up the highway. It started pouring rain, so I took shelter at the underpass. After the rain died a bit, I was back at the on ramp and a mid-aged woman with a Jesus card hanging from her mirror and Christian pop music playing on the radio picked me up and brought me to Altoona. She then handed me a wad of money and told me to buy a train ticket to Vermont at the station there. I didn't say anything, except thanking her profusely, took the money and stuffed it in my pocket to keep the other wad company. I never looked to see how much each was, but could see it was now $70 or $80.
For those of you familiar with my lifestyle, you know I agree to take money sometimes, to acknowledge people's generosity, and then I get rid of it usually by sun-up the next morning, either by giving it away or leaving it in a public place.
But this time something was happening to me. I was actually considering buying that train ticket, though I had zero intentions of buying any food. I was exhausted and disheartened, and the thought of a comfy train soothed me.
So I walked to the transit station. I went up to the counter, money in hand, and then I caught myself. "Listen to your heart." My Strong Heart would go deeper into hiding if I bought that ticket. A sense of powerful exhilaration hit me, I turned on my heel and walked past some homeless chaps to a bench and stuffed all that money into a crack in the bench and walked freely and joyfully back out to the highway, with a new sense of power. It's amazing how happy I felt.
And it felt like the Universe's blessings were showering down on me again.
More Good Samaritans
The next morning a young Christian youth pastor immediately picked me up. He was an ex-marine Iraq- and Afghan- war veteran who now worked with the homeless, and talked about wanting to simplify his life even more. He let me off in Philipsburg, PA.
By this time I was pretty amazed how many Christians were stopping for me, and all of them were fairly quiet and didn't seem to have any of the usual agendas except to help me. They only told me what I gleaned from them, and I felt a brotherhood with them.
In Philipsburg I found some nice wetlands and set up camp. I found lots of food in the dumpsters, including tons of Easter chocolate. Sleeping with the chirping frogs and singing birds, surrounded by trees, felt so luxurious and healing and full of gratitude. Nature is utterly non-judgmental, and nobody was scrutinizing my every move. The next morning I decided to stay and heal, feeling so exhausted. Between meditation and playing the guitar and listening to the red-wing blackbirds and frogs, I played the guitar and intermittently slept all day.
A man my age, who'd camped near me, came by, carrying his beer, to chat and listen to guitar. He was hurting from a divorce, and had lost his house and most his money. Amazing how much I hear that. He gave me a pouch of tobacco, though I don't smoke.
A 60-something man took me to I-80. I stood on that ramp for an hour and only 3 or 4 cars had gone by. Just when I picked up my backpack to walk to another ramp, a young woman stopped, got out of her car and gave me a hug! Some would classify her as a hippy. Her name was Kate and she was heading to Ithaca, NY, and said could probably find me a place to stay with her friends. We talked and sang with the guitar the whole way. That night she took me to a drumming/music jam. I met a 20-something Dine (Navajo) guy there who was planning to go on the Natives' Long Walk from Washington DC to Alcatraz in San Francisco in July. he needed some tobacco, so I passed the tobacco on to him.
Vermont Friends
I got to Montpelier, Vermont the next day in two rides. I stayed with Michael, Sarika, and Satya for about a week and then started camping. It's been wonderful and healing. Satya is the cutest baby in the world and my God-daughter, and Michael and Sarika are among my best friends (Michael is in the book).
Finding my Totem Animal
I still felt I needed to process my post-Canupa PTSD, so I went on a 4-day vision quest on a mountain ridge, inside a vision circle 12-feet in diameter, with a two trees inside it. I wondered if a totem animal would come. The third day I was feeling exhausted, with a headache, filled with doubts, wanting to quit. That night my headache broke and I started feeling energized and centered in meditation. Between sleeping I'd sit up and meditate. Then I had an intense epiphany, a feeling of oneness with God and the purity of God, of total trust. It felt like light streaming into me. And right at that moment, an outward confirmation: an owl hooted so loud it scared me. The hair on my neck stood up. "Maybe that's my totem!" I thought. The owl hooted again, and with it, the thought, "No, silly, I'm not even in your vision circle. You're totem is coming tomorrow!" So I went to sleep, with my head against the center tree, feet faced west (till then I had slept with feet faced east).
At dawn, I awoke to see a shadowy animal inches from my head! A raccoon? No, maybe a badger. I lifted my head for a better look, but the light was still dim. He wasn't scared. Then he slowly walked to the other tree in the circle and climbed it. He actually looked like a kind of sloth! He started chewing on bark on branches, then bedded down on one. He stayed there inside my vision circle all day! He mostly slept, waking up now and then to scratch and stretch and chew bark. That afternoon, it felt time to go, so I said goodbye to him and left him in the vision circle.
Nest day, I looked up Vermont wildlife and realized he was a porcupine. I'd never before seen a porcupine without its quills bristled up, making him look sloth or koala-like.
Everything I look up on the porcupine totem is eerily fitting. Everything about porcupines is what Canupa loved to "make fun" of in me. Not even a bear or wolf or puma can mess with a porcupine, despite appearances! I just couldn't feel worry when Canupa said I was vulnerable and scared and could be a target for danger. I knew with all my heart I had my protection. It's been here for 52 years, after all, despite my aimless wandering around. I'm sure Canupa, that jiver, already knows that. If not, who the hell cares?
I learned so much in that Vision circle. But there's enough words here already.
Glenn
A random magical hiker named Glenn came to my new camp twice. He brought me food, without my asking, today. An amazing person with amazing stories, still part of the vision quest. Lots more I could say, but there's enough words here already.
Strong Heart
Yes, I'm finding my Strong Heart that got lost.
I'm Porcupine.
New Video Interview
A woman from Turkey, Filiz Telek, did his interview with me last autumn in the wetlands near Moab. She randomly ran into me in Moab, not knowing anything about me. And she decided to do this interview. She happened to complete this video and post it on my 52nd birthday a few days ago.
"The man who quit money" video interview by Filiz Telek
http://vimeo.com/sacredresonance/suelo
(I'm not cyber-savvy enough to embed a vimeo video in this blog)
Trickster Mind F---
 | |
| Lakota Trickster Iktomi |
Canupa, the Lakota Strongheart Society headman, and our main "leader", badgered me over and over in the past few weeks, and played continual, intense head games with me, crashing my confidence to zero. He badgered most everybody. Some days I loved him, some days I hated him. Some days I felt I was in some weird, abusive cult. I still don't get it, sometimes. Sometimes I totally get it. The wounds of the Lakotas and of all indigenous people run so deep it's overwhelming. That's part of the point. But the greatest point, hardest to grasp (or hardest to admit, I should say) are that the wounds of white people run just as deep, with the exception that ours are covered up and whitewashed. We, as all humans, were once indigenous, and lost it to occupation (e.g., Rome). But the Roman Empire continues to this day, and we continue the abuse until we face up to our wounds and our intense fear, hidden under our false show of confidence and power and domination of other cultures, with our condescending "love" and "spirituality".
Am I validating his methods? A horse can be trained with extreme hurt, which is the usual accepted tradition, or with gentle kindness, as the horse whisperer Buck Brannaman showed us. From his own abusive upbringing he knew one could learn through abuse, but much healthier learning through kindness and respect. A valid human baby can be born through rape, or can be born through loving kindness.
Confession: I reluctantly used money
One thing that happened at a fuel stop on our trip was Canupa told me to get him a couple Monster energy drinks, handing me money to buy them for him. He'd be the first to admit he is addicted to those things, along with constant junk food. He told me to get one for myself, too. He knew I didn't use money. I also had zero desire for a Monster energy drink, both because the thought of it sickened me and because it supported the ridiculous corporations that cause the damage we were supposed to be against. But I used his money to buy his two drinks. He asked me where mine was, and told me to go back and buy one for myself. Silly me, I did, not to please myself, but Canupa. Giving my power away, as he liked to point out in me. I said to Canupa, "Kind of ironic, that it's an Indian who gets me to use money again, huh?" Naomi told me it was a lesson that money is just an illusion that doesn't matter, to neither love it or hate it, both of which give it credence. But deep inside my heart, I knew I gave into bullshit, letting myself be duped. I drank a third of that venom, thinking I should at least enjoy it. But I didn't, and its obscene amount of caffeine gave me a headache, so I threw the rest out, feeling weak and stupid. Another head game. One thing Canupa likes to say is to not trust anyone, not even him. Trust only your heart, he'd say. After leaving him, I start really getting it. Stop being weak. Follow your heart, what you know to be true. You're not the strong wise guy you might think you are.
We could throw it back and look at Canupa's faults or motives. And this is part of the trick. As my friend Michael just told me, when you're stabbed with a dagger, what good does it do to analyze the motives of the one who stabbed you?
Second Money Test
The official Lakota Truth Tour ended in Washington DC on April 16th, and we were heading back west, I had my friends drop me off in Pennsylvania so I could hitch-hike up to Vermont. (In reality, the Truth Tour is still happening).
Yes, I decided to have them drop me off at I-99 in Pennsylvania to hitch north. As we all hugged and said our goodbyes, Canupa handed me a wad of money and said, "buy yourself some food." This time he seemed genuinely worried about me, and he told me so, as if he were letting a lost little boy wander off alone, as if I hadn't been wandering unscathed like this for 13 years. I told him he knew I didn't use money, but he pressed it into my hand anyway, so I took it. Naomi asked me if I had enough, and I looked at her in astonishment, then said, "I don't usually use money", thinking of the Monster drink episode.
I put the wad in my back pocket and waved at them as they drove off with worried looks. Right or wrong, it felt to me like parents who had no clue what I'm about. But I did feel utter lack of confidence and feeling stupid in their presence, until they left. Then, when they were out of sight, I started feeling free and powerful again, intermittently with throbbing weakness and low self-worth.
A mid-aged man who happened intermittently go to Ecuador to do Christian mission work (Ecuador was where I was in the Peace Corps and where missionary friends of my family were stationed) gave me a ride to the next exit 15 miles up the highway. It started pouring rain, so I took shelter at the underpass. After the rain died a bit, I was back at the on ramp and a mid-aged woman with a Jesus card hanging from her mirror and Christian pop music playing on the radio picked me up and brought me to Altoona. She then handed me a wad of money and told me to buy a train ticket to Vermont at the station there. I didn't say anything, except thanking her profusely, took the money and stuffed it in my pocket to keep the other wad company. I never looked to see how much each was, but could see it was now $70 or $80.
For those of you familiar with my lifestyle, you know I agree to take money sometimes, to acknowledge people's generosity, and then I get rid of it usually by sun-up the next morning, either by giving it away or leaving it in a public place.
So I walked to the transit station. I went up to the counter, money in hand, and then I caught myself. "Listen to your heart." My Strong Heart would go deeper into hiding if I bought that ticket. A sense of powerful exhilaration hit me, I turned on my heel and walked past some homeless chaps to a bench and stuffed all that money into a crack in the bench and walked freely and joyfully back out to the highway, with a new sense of power. It's amazing how happy I felt.
And it felt like the Universe's blessings were showering down on me again.
More Good Samaritans
The next morning a young Christian youth pastor immediately picked me up. He was an ex-marine Iraq- and Afghan- war veteran who now worked with the homeless, and talked about wanting to simplify his life even more. He let me off in Philipsburg, PA.
By this time I was pretty amazed how many Christians were stopping for me, and all of them were fairly quiet and didn't seem to have any of the usual agendas except to help me. They only told me what I gleaned from them, and I felt a brotherhood with them.
In Philipsburg I found some nice wetlands and set up camp. I found lots of food in the dumpsters, including tons of Easter chocolate. Sleeping with the chirping frogs and singing birds, surrounded by trees, felt so luxurious and healing and full of gratitude. Nature is utterly non-judgmental, and nobody was scrutinizing my every move. The next morning I decided to stay and heal, feeling so exhausted. Between meditation and playing the guitar and listening to the red-wing blackbirds and frogs, I played the guitar and intermittently slept all day.
A man my age, who'd camped near me, came by, carrying his beer, to chat and listen to guitar. He was hurting from a divorce, and had lost his house and most his money. Amazing how much I hear that. He gave me a pouch of tobacco, though I don't smoke.
Vermont Friends
Finding my Totem Animal
I still felt I needed to process my post-Canupa PTSD, so I went on a 4-day vision quest on a mountain ridge, inside a vision circle 12-feet in diameter, with a two trees inside it. I wondered if a totem animal would come. The third day I was feeling exhausted, with a headache, filled with doubts, wanting to quit. That night my headache broke and I started feeling energized and centered in meditation. Between sleeping I'd sit up and meditate. Then I had an intense epiphany, a feeling of oneness with God and the purity of God, of total trust. It felt like light streaming into me. And right at that moment, an outward confirmation: an owl hooted so loud it scared me. The hair on my neck stood up. "Maybe that's my totem!" I thought. The owl hooted again, and with it, the thought, "No, silly, I'm not even in your vision circle. You're totem is coming tomorrow!" So I went to sleep, with my head against the center tree, feet faced west (till then I had slept with feet faced east).
At dawn, I awoke to see a shadowy animal inches from my head! A raccoon? No, maybe a badger. I lifted my head for a better look, but the light was still dim. He wasn't scared. Then he slowly walked to the other tree in the circle and climbed it. He actually looked like a kind of sloth! He started chewing on bark on branches, then bedded down on one. He stayed there inside my vision circle all day! He mostly slept, waking up now and then to scratch and stretch and chew bark. That afternoon, it felt time to go, so I said goodbye to him and left him in the vision circle.
Everything I look up on the porcupine totem is eerily fitting. Everything about porcupines is what Canupa loved to "make fun" of in me. Not even a bear or wolf or puma can mess with a porcupine, despite appearances! I just couldn't feel worry when Canupa said I was vulnerable and scared and could be a target for danger. I knew with all my heart I had my protection. It's been here for 52 years, after all, despite my aimless wandering around. I'm sure Canupa, that jiver, already knows that. If not, who the hell cares?
I learned so much in that Vision circle. But there's enough words here already.
Glenn
A random magical hiker named Glenn came to my new camp twice. He brought me food, without my asking, today. An amazing person with amazing stories, still part of the vision quest. Lots more I could say, but there's enough words here already.
Strong Heart
Yes, I'm finding my Strong Heart that got lost.
I'm Porcupine.
Truth Tour to the UN & Washington DC
We’re now in Delaware, at Carolyn's parents' house. We're continuing the Lakota Truth Tour that began on April 1 in Rapid City. We've already done our march to the UN in NYC, and our final stop is Washington DC. We've been showing the documentary, Red Cry, at most every event, also giving away free copies of the DVD to share and copy (the DVD is not for sale). This whole experience is a life-changing experience for me. It is not only a campaign to raise awareness in the world, but it is turning into a spiritual overhaul for me personally, something I never really expected.
The complete Red Cry should be on You Tube for free soon. I'll keep you posted.
Here is the schedule for the Lakota Truth Tour.
Grandmothers Back Out of Tour
We started in Rapid City, SD with five Lakota natives (Canupa, Leo, Camara, Pedro, and Cassie) and four white folks (Carolyn, Doug, Naomi, and me) in 3 minivans. We went through the Pine Ridge reservation to pick up the Lakota grandmothers who were supposed to be on the tour, but, to our disappointment, they backed out. Feeling extremely disheartened, the tour was almost cancelled. It is understandable that the grandmothers backed out, because there is a lot of risk for speaking out against the US government and its corruption on the Pine Ridge reservation - risk of life, risk of false accusation and unjust imprisonment of self and family. Many of the grandmothers are already suffering retribution for speaking out in the past. And those who speak in the documentary itself are taking a risk. The tribal government also gave the grandmothers checks the day we were to leave, a predictable tactic to steer them away from coming with us. When people are poor, how many would forfeit a check to come on the road with a risky tour?
Grandmothers Join the Tour
Two grandmothers, Charmaine White Face and one younger one, Barbara Charging Crow, joined us later, adding great strength to the tour. Charmaine (who is also in the documentary) is truly a wise, spiritual woman and a great feminine balance to Canupa, the headman of the Lakota’s Strong Heart Society. I can’t express the honor I feel being in the presence of such spiritual masters. The documentary alone is powerful in itself, but Canupa’s and Charmain's speaking and charismatic personalities brings each presentation to a new level.
Decolonization Training
This Truth Tour also conducted a decolonization training, facilitated mainly by Canupa, on our first evening in New York City. It never ceases to amaze me how passionately charismatic Canupa is, how he can make audiences spellbound, speaking straight from the heart. He is both intensely angry and compassionate, as well as full of humor. It’s not often you meet such a warrior and revolutionary leader, passionate about his own ancient spiritual tradition, in the spirit of Crazy Horse. I mean, we aren't talking about a fake wannabe Indian here. At this decolonization training, he called for people to step forward and destroy their identification cards and passports, to truly make their declaration of independence. To my surprise, many people stepped froward and did it.
Canupa, the Enigmatic Teacher
In New York City, the Lakota Truth Tour started a march to the UN, for the purpose of bringing a written statement declaring the ongoing genocide of the US government against the Lakota people and a call to end that genocide, and a call to demand the US keep its own treaties with the Lakotas, particularly the 1868 Treaty of Fort Laramie, which would give back all land stolen by the US government and restore the Lakota's complete sovereignty as an independent nation. I repeat, the US's own treaty.
(See the press release for our march to the UN here).
Why am I myself part of this tour?
It was the persecution and genocide of native peoples all over this continent and this world that is one of the reasons I decided to walk away from money and throw away my identification cards, documents, and trappings of Babylon. And, now, since I am now more in the spotlight, I am hoping my doing this can shine more light on the Lakota plight, as well as the plight of indigenous peoples all over the world.
Pray
The complete Red Cry should be on You Tube for free soon. I'll keep you posted.
Here is the schedule for the Lakota Truth Tour.
Grandmothers Back Out of Tour
But we decided to snuff out our discouragement and continue, working with what we had, showing the documentary. We're glad. It has turned out powerfully well, so far.
Grandmothers Join the Tour
 |
| Camara, Doug, Barbara Charging Crow (holding declaration of genocide), Charmaine White Face, and Canupa behind a barricade in front of the UN |
The turn-out at each event has been good and well-received. Many people are brought to tears, including myself.
Decolonization Training
 |
| Canupa conducting the decolonization training at the Judson Memorial Church in NYC |
Canupa, the Enigmatic Teacher
But some days I totally doubt Canupa, because I sometimes think he is an unreasonable asshole, seemingly even abusive. Other days I am enthralled by his spiritual passion and leadership. He’s a trickster and a sage, a man warrior and seemingly an angry adolescent boy rolled into one – at least in my perceptions sometimes. I even almost quit this tour, in fact, because I felt so offended. My heart has been through the ringer, and it is coming through clean.
March to the UN
March to the UN
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| Canupa, Camara, Charmaine, Barbara, Leo Marching to the UN |
(See the press release for our march to the UN here).
It is also interesting that the Lakotas are not recognized as a sovereign nation in the UN, otherwise they would have a seat there, as would other native peoples! This is contrary to the purpose of the UN.
 |
| March to the UN |
It was the persecution and genocide of native peoples all over this continent and this world that is one of the reasons I decided to walk away from money and throw away my identification cards, documents, and trappings of Babylon. And, now, since I am now more in the spotlight, I am hoping my doing this can shine more light on the Lakota plight, as well as the plight of indigenous peoples all over the world.
 |
| Canupa with UN Security Officer The UN would not allow the representative of the Lakota Nation to speak with any UN official except a security officer. Behind Canupa: Pedro, Ted (an Occupy dude who joined us in NYC), me, and Leo. |
The traditional Lakotas believe deeply in prayer, and pray to the Great Mystery every day (The Lakota word for God is Wakan Tanka, which is often translated as the Great Spirit, which Canupa calls the Great Mystery and Charmaine calls the Creator). All of nature continually speaks and manifests Wakan Tanka, from every blade of grass to the buffalo to every bird flying above. Those disconnected from nature have no spirituality and are out of touch with their own hearts and this reality. Our books and our knowledge more often than not blind our eyes to this simple reality, and in our blindness to reality we think those who see are primitive and superstitious. Prayer is like breathing to the traditional Lakota. I have been asked to request that you readers pray for the Lakotas and for this Truth Tour. Find stillness in yourself, the stillness of nature. This is your prayer.
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| Straight from the Heart: Native singers and drummers in New York City That's me in the yellow shirt & grey hair |
Old World, New World
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This post is a response to an interesting blog by the great American pianist George Colligan on the subject of jazz in Europe. To get the most sense out of this one, you should read what he has to say by clicking here
Nguyen Le
John Hollenbeck
Jazz is absolutely an American art form in its origins, and like any musical art form, if you go to the source country from which it emanates you are always going to get powerful music. There is much great music coming from the US, as befits the country from which the music first sprang. No America, no jazz – period.
However the power of jazz is, (and was from its very beginnings), the universality of its message, which goes beyond the borders of the US. There’s a message for all mankind in jazz, which explains why it went all around the world almost immediately. A consequence of this was non-Americans playing, or trying to play the music. Usually they were poor copies of the American model, (though not always – Django Reinhard wasn’t too shabby for a European!), but as the decades went on, Europeans, (and Australians and Canadians etc), raised the standard of their playing, and then began to develop their own regional dialects of the music – music that sounded different to the original American model, but contained the essential elements of it.
I say ‘dialects’ here, because for sure the way jazz is played in Italy is, (in general), quite different to the way it’s played in Scandinavia. The same would be true of Germany and Ireland. There is no ‘European Jazz’ as a single entity, any more than there is an ‘American Jazz’ entity. There’s a huge difference between the music of Steve Coleman and Bill Charlap, between the music of Tim Berne and Brad Mehldau, yet they are all American jazz musicians. Similarly there’s a huge difference between the music of Lous Sclavis and Enrico Pieranunzi, or between Nguyen Le and Bobo Stenson.
So, in my opinion, George’s statement:
‘I question whether the music being called "Jazz" in Europe is actually Jazz’
is a sweeping approach which doesn’t take into account the sheer variety of approaches going on in Europe. To ascribe the same stylistic qualities to all European jazz is as narrow as assuming that Wynton Marsalis’ approach to jazz is the one followed by all Americans. Yes the origins of jazz are in the US, and the bulk of the greatest innovations and recordings have historically emanated from the US, (the majority of that coming from the Afro-American community of course). But to deny that non-American jazz musicians can produce jazz of value and originality is like claiming that because the great composers of classical music were European, then the music of Steve Reich, John Adams or Leonard Bernstein has no importance or value.
But while asserting that Europe has many creative world class jazz musicians, I would never subscribe to the argument that jazz in Europe is more creatively vibrant than that being created in the US. Conversely I don’t think the reverse is true either – that America has the monopoly on innovation and creativity. They’re both generalisations, and both arguments can be dismantled in a matter of minutes by even a brief examination of the music being created on both continents. The truth is that there is great music being created on both sides of the Atlantic, by both American and European musicians.
John Hollenbeck
And to the interested student of the history of the music (such as myself), I think we’re currently in a wonderful period in which jazz musicians from Europe and America are collaborating as never before in creating great music together. There are more European jazz musicians living in New York than ever before (Lage Lund, Jean-Michel Pilc, The Moutin brothers), and a bunch of Americans living in Europe, (John Hollenbeck, Gerry Hemingway, Kurt Rosenwinkel), and I don’t think there have ever been more bands with mixed European and Americans in them than there are currently. Which is tremendously healthy, and shows that this artificial division between European and American jazz is exactly that – artificial. Musicians on both sides of the Atlantic are producing amazing music, and both can, and do, enrich the other.
One thing that George talks about that is definitely true is that jazz is much more subsidized in Europe than the US, which is incredible if you think about it. Jazz - the amazing art form that America gave to the world, should be feted, celebrated and supported by the US, in the same way that Irish Traditional Music is supported in Ireland, Flamenco in Spain and Taiko drumming in Japan.
Vanguard Jazz Orchestra
Jazz is an American national cultural treasure and I find it extraordinarily sad that most people in the US, and the local and Federal governments in particular, couldn’t care less about it. How often do we see the US big gun orchestras, such as the NY Philharmonic, touring in Europe, playing European music to Europeans? Why isn’t the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra sent out instead? At a time when the US often has a poor PR image abroad, jazz is one of the great good news stories to come from the US in the past 100 years – the Americans should be out celebrating it and being proud of it all over the world……… But American taxpayers are not big on paying for culture of any kind, and so the chances of an entity like the VJO being sent out using taxpayer's money, in the way jazz in Europe is supported by European tax payer's money, is almost non-existent. Sad but true.
But the music lives on, and the geographical barrier between American and European jazz has never seemed smaller, and this has to be a good thing. Instead of parochial sniping between one side and another, let's celebrate the wonderful music that is coming from both continents, both individually and in combination.
To finish, here is a clip of a concert I was involved with in Belgium, with MSG, a trio featuring my Irish self, the Dutch drummer Chander Sardjoe, and the American altoist Rudresh Mahanthappa. An Irishman, a Dutchman, and an American, playing jazz together in Belgium - the future is now!
In Praise of Complex Music
Previously I've been critical on this blog of music that is unnecessarily complex, music that is complex for its own sake, more concerned with demonstrating its own rhythmic technique than with delivering a message through music. And I'm still critical of that kind of technical posturing, but recently an incident set me off thinking about this idea of complexity and what value there is in it.
I recently underwent some acupuncture treatment, and having been needled up like a porcupine, I was lying there waiting for the needles to work their magic. I wanted to listen to some music while I was lying there and was going to listen to it on my iPod through headphones, but the Acupuncturist asked me if I'd like the music played through the stereo in the room. So she turned off the 'relaxation' music she usually plays, (which does anything but relax me!), turned on the iPod and left the room, leaving me to my music for about 20 minutes. When she returned to check the needles, a Dave Binney track was playing, in which Dave was taking on two drummers, and winning. She stopped, listened for a moment, and asked me incredulously, 'you find that relaxing!?' I said that yes, I did indeed find that relaxing - she shook her head, adjusted the needles and left the room. On my own again I started to think about this exchange and began to try to observe myself listening to the music in a bid to identify what it was I was listening to, and what kind of effect it had on me. What was I hearing that I found relaxing, but that to the therapist sounded like chaos?
As I lay there listening, I began to identify how I was listening to the music, what effect it was having on me, and what, if anything, was going on in my head. A lot of non-musicians at this point, (if any non-musicians read this blog!), are probably thinking that I was working out the technical details of the music, the time signatures, the harmony, the structure etc. But this was not actually the case - it's true I used to do that, but I gave it up a long time ago and only now do it if I need to analyse something for some particular purpose. It's true that as a musician one can find it hard to switch off the analytical machine completely, but as far as possible, when listening to recordings or concerts, I try to let the music wash over me.
So, there I was, listening to the music and trying to get a sense of what it was I was hearing and how it was affecting me. And I began to realise that what I was hearing was quite multi-layered - a sound here, a rhythm there, combinations of things, twists and turns in the lines, the rhythm section firing things up, a particular colour from the harmony. I tried to find a non-technical way to explain how I was hearing the music, and the best I could do was imagining being on a Gondola in Venice, (without the obligatory 'O Sole Mio' being sung in the background by a licensed bandit, otherwise known as the Gondolier), and floating down the canal and looking at the architecture of the buildings as I, (or they), floated past. In such a situation, you can see more than just the outline of the buildings; you can see the materials they're built from, the various indentations of windows and doors, lights behind curtains, shapes, proportion, half-glimpsed interiors, sunlight on the different surfaces - and all changing slowly as you float by. It's a complex collage of images which un-spools in front of you, but at the end of it you have a sense of what you've seen in a very rich and multi-layered way.
But this rich visual experience needs two factors in order for it to happen - the observed object needs to be multi-faceted, and the observer needs to have faculties to appreciate the different aspects of what's being seen.
And the same holds true for music.
Before I get into that, let me first qualify what I'm about to say - in all cases I'm talking about good complex music. I'm not saying that complex is by definition good, or simple music is bad. I'm talking about good music which happens to be complex.
Complex music is different to simple music - it is multi-layered, it has a lot going on, the message it conveys is often ambiguous. A complex piece of music is analogous to a complex novel, play or film - its story may in itself tell a different story, what's on the surface may represent a deeper meaning, it may be structurally complex with many twists and turns, the ending may be very different to the expected one etc. In order for the music to have this multi-faceted quality, it must be complex.
In order to tell a more complex story the music must use more complex materials. More use of harmonic colour, more compositional structure, rhythms that are possibly polyrhythmic, more virtuosic playing from the performers. All of this, (and more), is necessary for the music to operate on more than one simple level. It will have a story to tell, but one which requires more narrative tools than the broad brush of the typical pop song. It may be a love song for example, but it will not be in the 'Yeah, I Love You Baby' mode of thousands of quick hits. Human life is complex and multi-faceted and this complex and multi-faceted music is required at times in order to tell these stories.
And in order to tell these stories you need listeners who are equipped to appreciate the intricacies of what unfolds in front of them. If the only buildings you'd ever seen in your life were one-room Portakabins, then Gaudi's Cathedral or a Calatrava structure may be beyond your comprehension. If the only kind of books you've ever read are holiday romances, you're unlikely to get very far with Joyce's 'Ulysses'. If the only movies you've watched were the Police Academy series, you're probably going to have trouble getting the inner meaning of Kurosawa's movies. Art on this level is unlikely to be immediately understood - it's not meant to be consumed immediately and discarded. It's meant to be thought about and experienced on many different levels and in order to be able to do that you will likely need some kind of development over a period of time in order to be able to appreciate all the subtleties.
In the same way that you can't leap from 'Janet and John Go To The Beach' to 'Finnegan's Wake', if you've been raised on a diet of Justin Bieber and Rihanna you're unlikely to be able to jump straight into 'The Rite of Spring'. You need time to develop the tools that will allow you to decode complex music. The usual way is through listening over a period of time to music of growing complexity, attuning your ear to the sheer variety of sound that is evident in this kind of music. You need to develop an ear where dissonance is not in itself automatically painful, where a wide range of dynamics within a single piece is intriguing rather than unsettling, where you can pay close attention to a piece of music that is over 5 minutes long and not get distracted. These are the kinds of tools you need to get the fullest experience from complex music.
And to get the fullest rewards - because rewards there are - good complex music is tremendously enriching for the mind, the body and the spirit. It is multifaceted and can be enjoyed on several different levels. You will get an experience from complex music that you won't get from one-dimensional music - that's what makes the journey and the effort worthwhile.
Now it could be that you couldn't be bothered engaging in the kind of long term investment that appreciating complex music requires, and that's fair enough. If you don't require more from music than what simple music can give you, then great. No problem. But don't try and tell people who do get enjoyment from complex music that they are snobs and elitist. There is a difference between those who enjoy complex music for itself, and those who might use it as a cultural stick to beat others with. If you choose not to go down the route of enjoying multi-layered music, don't make the mistake of condemning others who do. I feel no need to apologise for liking complex music, and I've written about it before here. I enjoy simple music too, but like complex music, it has to be what I would consider to be good before I can enjoy it. In the same way that I don't think complex music is automatically good, I don't think simple music is either.
And in many cases complex music can be enjoyed on a simple level too. I think of this as being like a tree; a tree can be seen as one large beautiful entity, but if you look closer you will see that this one large entity is in fact made of of a very complex series of smaller entities, and the tree can be visually enjoyed on both levels. The same could be said for a complex building like the aforementioned Gaudi Cathedral or the Taj Mahal.
And good complex music can encompass many forms and atmospheres, as in these three examples:
Here is Miles' great 'lost' quintet playing with complex abandon
And Yuja Wang playing two of Ligeti's extraordinary piano études
And finally the joy of Hermeto Pascoal's music - simple to appreciate yet very complex in construction
Miles, Ligeti, Hermeto - Coltrane, Bach, Weather Report, Sonny Rollins, Bill Evans, Stravinsky, Ravel, Monk, Ellington, Steve Coleman, Dave Liebman, Mozart, Keith Jarrett - hundreds of other great artists could be added to that list - all artists who have produced sublime music in many different styles and atmospheres. With their music you can have the kind of wonderful multidimensional experience that you can only get from complex music. For the unfamiliar listener it can be puzzling and maybe daunting, but for the listener who is curious and prepared to meet it half way, its rewards are unending.
Lakota Truth Tour
I hitch-hiked into Rapid City, South Dakota last Wednesday, now at the house of the Lakota elder, Canupa Gluha Mani in Custer, for the Lakota Elders' Truth Tour.
From Moab to the Land of the Lakota
Before leaving Moab, a guy named Edgar came to visit me from Salt Lake City and spent a couple days hanging out with me. I feel we became very good friends. Since I had been planning to hitch to Rapid City, he decided to take me back to Salt Lake City with him, meet his wife Leslie, stay the night, then drop me off in Park City to start hitching. It took me two days and several rides to go 64 miles to Evanston, Wyoming, and I was getting discouraged, thinking I wouldn't make it to Rapid City in time. Then I went 600 miles in two rides all the way to Rapid City, several days earlier than expected.
In Rapid City, I found some woods to camp in, ready to wait days until anybody I knew showed up. But the next day Carolyn and Thembi and their friend Naomi arrived and whisked me away to Canupa's house here in Custer!
Red Cry, the Documentary
Carolyn (my good friend of several years), her boyfriend Thembi, and Naomi have worked the past year with the Lakota making the documentary, "Red Cry" is about the ongoing genocide against the Lakotas. It is to be shown in each city along the Truth Tour. I have now seen the documentary and am totally blown away by it. It tells truths never before told, exposing lies and corruption. "Red Cry" is more powerful than I'd imagined, and all the Lakota elders I've seen it with are equally pleased with it. "Red Cry" is their documentary, in their words, not candy-coated or white-washed (by whites), raw and shocking, as it should be! Finally, natives get to be heard, in their own words. It is planned to be posted free to all on You Tube in a week or two, so all of you can see it. Meanwhile, here's the trailer again:
Lakota Elder's Truth Tour Mission
The Lakota Grandmother's Truth Tour starts in Rapid City tomorrow, going from city to city until the march to the United Nations in New York City, then on to Washington DC.
My Feelings About This
I can't help but feel this is something big, and can't express how honored I feel being a part of this.
And his isn't just about taking part in an activist movement. This is becoming a major step in my spiritual journey. I am meeting a grand guru in my life's path, and that guru is the Lakota nation.
I'm glad I'm here early, because I'm going through my time of intense psychological preparation with
After the Tour
I can't really think too much about after the tour right now. I am, of course, thinking about the moneyless tribe idea, but feel this will be confirmation or not about #2 in the 2-fold mission of it.
Prayers For Me
I know there are people praying that I fail in my walk. They have let me know this. And I know there are people praying for my walk's success, who have also let me know this. Which will win? Neither, I say. I ask both groups to pray neither for my success or failure. Pray that if it is the Divine will that I fail, let me fail. And if it is the Divine will that I succeed, let me succeed. Make no presumptions of Divine will, or of what is "success" or "failure." If your god is a genie in a bottle who conforms to your demands, to your will, your god is a petty demigod, no matter what you call your god. The prayer of no presumption is the most powerful prayer in the Universe and can never fail.
Aho Mitakuye Oyasin!
Happy Resurrection Day, when the new life of Spring springs up from death.
From Moab to the Land of the Lakota
Before leaving Moab, a guy named Edgar came to visit me from Salt Lake City and spent a couple days hanging out with me. I feel we became very good friends. Since I had been planning to hitch to Rapid City, he decided to take me back to Salt Lake City with him, meet his wife Leslie, stay the night, then drop me off in Park City to start hitching. It took me two days and several rides to go 64 miles to Evanston, Wyoming, and I was getting discouraged, thinking I wouldn't make it to Rapid City in time. Then I went 600 miles in two rides all the way to Rapid City, several days earlier than expected.
In Rapid City, I found some woods to camp in, ready to wait days until anybody I knew showed up. But the next day Carolyn and Thembi and their friend Naomi arrived and whisked me away to Canupa's house here in Custer!
Red Cry, the Documentary
Carolyn (my good friend of several years), her boyfriend Thembi, and Naomi have worked the past year with the Lakota making the documentary, "Red Cry" is about the ongoing genocide against the Lakotas. It is to be shown in each city along the Truth Tour. I have now seen the documentary and am totally blown away by it. It tells truths never before told, exposing lies and corruption. "Red Cry" is more powerful than I'd imagined, and all the Lakota elders I've seen it with are equally pleased with it. "Red Cry" is their documentary, in their words, not candy-coated or white-washed (by whites), raw and shocking, as it should be! Finally, natives get to be heard, in their own words. It is planned to be posted free to all on You Tube in a week or two, so all of you can see it. Meanwhile, here's the trailer again:
Lakota Elder's Truth Tour Mission
Wagunpi Woashake Ikickupi (Lakota Elders Take Back Their Strength) is a grassroots movement to end the genocide of the Lakota people and support the full renewal of matriarchal leadership by Lakota Grandmothers on Pine Ridge and across the Lakota Nation. The movement also works to educate non-Natives about the situation of the Lakota, mobilize long-term solidarity networks to benefit Lakota Elders, and build solidarity with other indigenous resistance movements worldwide.
The Lakota Solidarity Project is an all-volunteer group of people and organizations who work in togetherness with traditional Tetuwan Lakota Elders, warriors, grassroots activists, and Oyate (people)- led by the Grandmothers. Find out more here.
The Lakota Grandmother's Truth Tour starts in Rapid City tomorrow, going from city to city until the march to the United Nations in New York City, then on to Washington DC.
My Feelings About This
I can't help but feel this is something big, and can't express how honored I feel being a part of this.
And his isn't just about taking part in an activist movement. This is becoming a major step in my spiritual journey. I am meeting a grand guru in my life's path, and that guru is the Lakota nation.
I'm glad I'm here early, because I'm going through my time of intense psychological preparation with
Canupa. And intense it is. And humbling is an understatement of what I'm going through. Canupa is a traditional tribal leader (not a government lackey) who tells it like it is with us white folks. It's not easy to take, but something we need to hear and absorb. He's brash and crude and angry and funny, gentle and harsh and totally not P.C. I'm sweating. Just when I think he's a hateful asshole, a compassion deeper than I can imagine shines from his eyes into me, and the deep pain of centuries of white oppression against the Lakotas and against the earth. And there's more to come for me to learn. I have a long ways to go, when I thought I had come so far. Okay, I still feel he's also intensely racist and full of shit, too, encrusted over his compassion for all living beings. That's part of his trickster persona, shocking us out of our minds like a harsh Zen master.
I have also gotten a chance to meet Charmaine, Earl, and Leo, so far, Natives also in the film. Now I am so looking forward to meeting and traveling with the Lakota Grandmothers, matriarchs of the Lakota nation.
After the Tour
I can't really think too much about after the tour right now. I am, of course, thinking about the moneyless tribe idea, but feel this will be confirmation or not about #2 in the 2-fold mission of it.
Prayers For Me
I know there are people praying that I fail in my walk. They have let me know this. And I know there are people praying for my walk's success, who have also let me know this. Which will win? Neither, I say. I ask both groups to pray neither for my success or failure. Pray that if it is the Divine will that I fail, let me fail. And if it is the Divine will that I succeed, let me succeed. Make no presumptions of Divine will, or of what is "success" or "failure." If your god is a genie in a bottle who conforms to your demands, to your will, your god is a petty demigod, no matter what you call your god. The prayer of no presumption is the most powerful prayer in the Universe and can never fail.
Aho Mitakuye Oyasin!
Happy Resurrection Day, when the new life of Spring springs up from death.
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