Wednesday, November 2, 2011

New Summary of THE PURCHASING MOTHER'S SON


New Summary


An apparently young Englishman who claims to be 274 years of age approaches an American anthropologist in modern Bangkok, Thailand. Though the scholar cannot believe this assertion, the Englishman displays his torso covered with magickal tattoos, and then demonstrates inexplicable supernatural powers by literally vanishing before the scholar’s eyes. He leaves behind a flash-drive that contains his story. According to his account, John Nathaniel Perch, the purported author, was born in 1736 at Ayutthaya, the capital city of the mysterious Far Eastern kingdom then called Siam.

The novel is John’s story told in third person. In its heyday the fabulous city of Ayutthaya, built on a river island, boasts 360 gold-covered stupa spires, an immense royal palace for the divine King of Siam, and an adjacent palace just for the sacred white elephants. Though considered a "hidden and forbidden" kingdom, the capital Ayutthaya also hosts communities of Europeans who represent the various Occidental East India Companies. Unknown to John's birth mother, the native women of the household conduct a traditional rite to appease a spirit of infant mortality called the Purchasing Mother. The rite seems to be successful, however it is only partly so…
John grows up to become a self-indulgent and unmotivated young man. After his mother Cynthia is widowed, rather than return to England, she chooses to marry the Frenchman, Bruno Therieux, a childhood friend who has always adored her. Bruno, who has tutored John and long been a friend an mentor, now becomes his stepfather. When an old friend from Paris, now Father Titus of the Jesuits visits on his way to China, ripples are set in motion that willlead to the destruction of the city. Beset by the Purchasing Mother that has returned for him despite his maturity, John loses his temper with Bruno and becomes alienated, much to the distress of both men.
Moving from his parents’ house, the young man lives in a brothel and becomes addicted to opium. The persistent demon returns stronger than ever seeking to claim him after all. His only hope lies in acquiring magickal tattoos that cover his entire body, believed to provide extraordinary powers. So he undergoes the ordeal of acquiring the “sua yantra” and is transformed. In his case, the ability to become invisible and the invulnerability promised prove surprisingly real, and he is able to see into the animistic Spirit World of the ancient native culture. Persuaded to move back into his parents’ home as the final Burmese invasion closes in, John marries a Chinese woman named Jao Jing-li whom he that he truly loves. Soon she become pregnant with his child.
When the Burmese besiege the city in a final conquest, John helps his stepfather in a valiant attempt to rescue an elderly royal friend who lives on the island, and is captured by the invading army. John’s wife leaves the compound in search of him, and is captured by the Brumese. In a prison camp for slaves Jing-li dies giving birth to twins, the second of which survives. Other women manage to get the child out of the camp into safe hands.
Even as the city is being annihilated in 1767, the Burmese must withdraw because the Chinese Emperor has invaded their own kingdom from the north. As John is marched towards slavery in Burma among thousands of Siamese captives, he looks for an opportunity to use his powers in order to liberate his fellow slaves. At last the Purchasing Mother appears to him and instead of loathing, he views her with compassion as a tragic figure. He realizes that she may not be so evil after all. She urges him to do what he can for his fellow captives. He succeeds by the full employ of his powers and turns the slavers’ weapons against them, though the experience becomes a tortured memory thereafter.
John’s whereabouts remain unknown to his agonized parents, who at last reluctantly plan to depart from Ayutthaya forever. Finally he leaves them a letter and makes his survival known to them, with a promise that after they return to Europe he will visit them when his own young son is old enough for such a journey. He survives into the present day and decides that he must tell his extraordinary tale.

(For more concerning this extraordinary novel I began to draft 25 years ago + ro read a FREE sample, please click HERE.)

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Fog Unbound


When hilltops vanish into fog
Real Magick happens…
The Language of Birds
Gets automatically translated
By the heart—
Occluded brilliance is the Sun Dog;
Luna, a feline principality
Beyond words.
Breathing is Fine Art!

Oh yes—birdcalls echo through
Ravine muffled and softened at the edges.
All of the morning becomes no more,
No less than me and you
Tiptoe along limestone ledges;
The layer-cake of Mother Earth’s
Trillions upon trillions of fossilized lovers…
This life is no game, nothing to rehearse
It’s the real deal now and here
Under the covers!

Yes, Father Earth, let me pull back your mask
Let me undress all your reasons
To withhold any particle of love;
You are all 3 X 3 colors of quarks
In the innermost Temple of the Atom—
Mute labyrinths
You offer in darkness:
Soft and hazy brilliance of your blue elliptical soul—
This White Dove
Of mystery
You call down with open arms
Avalon’s
Adam.

Abide, abide, abide…
Honor unspoken names of Mother Eve—
Here’s the thing to spread your wings:
On such a hilltop hidden,
Forever twilight
There is no Other Side
And the crack between the worlds
Remains open
Wide…



Saturday, October 15, 2011

What You See Is What You Are!


See what's in the photo above? The truth is, it's you… and before you object, let me dance around a little here… plus, you may already know this dance!
      Paradise Garden, where I live, shows new signs of growth and regeneration: tendrils, leaves and buds--now that autumn is in the air! Sounds like springtime, huh? Well, it is kind of a rebirth feeling. The Plant Kingdom and its animal kin have perked up and show signs of renewed vibrancy after months of extreme heat.
      We're still in drought conditions, despite the blessed 3 inches of rainfall last weekend. Perhaps it's also the nice cooler nights, sometimes in the upper 40s, along with days no longer so hot and dry that summons tiny green leaves. Things now bloom where during the summer buds did not even form!
      There is always more to things than meets the eye. the truth is it's not only beauty that's in the eye of the beholder… everything is in the eye of the beholder!
      All these natural wonders--the huge tarantula hawk wasp that buzzes up and flies away, the elegant earth star fungi that constellate around the base of the live oak, the baby spiny lizard that darts up onto a rock to bask in the sunlight--everything I observe requires me as observer to exist in my reality.
      It still fascinates me to realize that everything I view as "out there," beyond the boundaries of my body, is actually images created in my mind with the help of my brain. All I see is actually within me.
      Likewise, life does not "happen" to me.  I am life.
      The truth is a handful of immediate realities that you have no good reason to doubt actually exist. Your body (unless you're a disembodied spirit reading this!) is a truth. Matter may be the dancing emptiness of atoms that science describes, not a solid object as it can seem, yet it does exist. So does Nature and the Earth, the Moon and Sun, the planets and stars. Beyond that it's just beliefs, ideas.
      What you see is what you get? Not necessarily. You may not get everything you see, however you are everything you see! What an astonishing awareness!
      What truly matters is there's no such thing as separation.
      You are the little tree frog in the photo above.
      The frog and you are One.
      Form is emptiness.
      Buddha said.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Balance on a Swiftly Tilting Planet



Where I often find balance and get centered these days is by really tuning in the Plant Kingdom. In particular the Egyptian Blue Lotus that grows in my pond, the Maid of Orleans Jasmine in the greenhouse, and the Dolly Parton Rose in front of the kitchen window. Even when the breeze is tossing it around, you can sense the deep inner stillness of a plant. That stillness touches into the limitless and the infinite…
            Most people have noticed that not only is time accelerating (along with so many other global factors) but lately wherever our planet is heading, it seems out of control. Of course it is not controlled—except perhaps by Gaia itself, as well as our collective will as Gaia’s youngest and perhaps most errant children.
            There are a number of things anyone can do to regain balance on our swiftly tilting, rapidly evolving planet. First, as so many factors such as human population, technological advancement, and environmental degradation accelerate measurably, everything heads toward what mathematics calls a “Singularity.” This means a sudden shift so extreme we cannot predict it. (No one can!) You can consciously work to slow down, as a means to recover balance. Turn off some devices and connections, especially to mainstream media. Let go of so much “doing.” Be.
            The consumer culture that feeds the corporate hegemony is based on dissatisfaction. No matter what you have, you need something else, the next thing, instead of what you have. Consciously shift your focus to the good things you do have. Express gratitude. Tell your loved ones and your beloved how much you love them.
            Don’t buy into faddish beliefs about end times or impending dates. No one knows! If we knew the future for sure, we’d have no choice now. Surrender the need to know. Choose to express gratitude, slow down and yes—tune in plants.
Wake up and smell the flowers!



Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Moondark



In the hush of sounds
IS
The deepest Silence…
&
Within the Silence
IS
The Source
of
Creative Word…

From which springs all utterance;
Traffic tidal over the hill
to subdued ravine crickets and frogs stunned
by these cool nights.

O yes!
Raccoons
scurry up the live oak
in the bright
B.E.A.M.
from my
3rd Eye
(“I”)
!!!

Jeweled jaded gazes reflect down
incurious banditos –
Frog-slayers
shambling
amoral
along  branches to
hide shifty.

THE BOOK OF TOKENS:
Thanks, Doc!
Indeed, sex is sacred!
I AM Yod…

Here on the Ravine Bench
after the final end of History
nothing but the fragrance
of brown rice cooking
R.E.M.A.I.N.S.
Except
4
Sacred Numbers
of
Numberless
Mystery
!

9.28.11


Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Full Moon (A poem)



It’s a fine madness…
That scribbles the scriptures of ibis-headed Tehuti
Here in this small book
Whilst leopard frogs croon and mate
By the little waterfall’s address
And a single cricket creaks;
That perfect white disk
Itself takes
A look
Over my angelic shoulder —
There’s that other, whose Secret Name
You don’t even want to know
For as seeking separates you from what you seek
All resistance: your house of cards collapses
As other crickets answer
From where…
Else?

This moonlit garden is merely changing Paradise
As the Moon itself changes,
Only it never dies
For the Garden of Life,
This eternal treasure of Prester John
Never thinks twice
Only continues to breathe…

You are the wise totality of animal lust
And we foolish humans must
Be forgiven
For our failure to remember
We ARE stardust!


Wednesday, September 7, 2011

The Voice of the Ancestors


As I crest the ridge walking in my hilly neighborhood here in Wimberley, a gust of wind picks up, rushes through the treetops and makes wonderful oceanic sounds. Instantly this takes me back to a time many years ago when a dear friend called me up and told me that her grandfather had died.
She asked if I would come over and simply be with her. It was also windy then. As we sat together in her little cabin by the Fall River in Colorado, she said, “Someone once told me that the sound of the wind is the Voice of the Ancestors.”
            This seemed more than a poetic statement to me, for somehow it felt deeply true. As I’ve discovered over the years, it’s deeper than I ever imagined. This goes beyond the apparent duality of the living and the dead… even deeper than your cellular wisdom.
            The word “breath” ultimately means “spirit,” which is the essence of life. Over time it becomes clearer that the Ancestors are not only spirits of the dead.
            You are related to everything. When you closely examine your own existence and your relation to the world you live in, you discover that you exist as part of a living Universe. No matter who you consider your Ancestors to be, or what you think and feel about them, you cannot encapsulate them any more than a grave can contain them.
            Nobody really understands the mystery of death--form dissolving back into where it came from--only it’s probably nothing like what we may imagine. It’s truly a mystery.
            The drifting essence of being comes and goes—like the wind. Rites of passage remind you that you are but an intersection. A nexus of the living and dead and things yet to be. Your own existence has ties everywhere—with family, species, ecosystem, planet, solar system, stars and Universe. For you are stardust.
            And the multiple universes fold back into themselves to speak with the voice that is you.