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Friday, September 20, 2013

PLAYING JAZZ AND BLUES ON YONGE STREET.....SEX FOR SALE....ZANZIBAR WOMEN -------


 
        
                                                                                                                                                                           
               There are big differences between street level economics and high finance. But the basic principles remain the same.
                The inflation rate is supposed to be low
but the price of bread has doubled in the last two years.
Lies! Prevarication and damned lies! 

           Working with the band, Johnny Rock and the Angels, we didn`t always make sound financial decisions There were five or six people involved and we all had families, and if not families,we had expensive habits. We usually wanted something we didn`t have...
          But not always!
         Sometimes the delicate balance of friendship, good liquor and stimulants all mixed together into a flow experience, a free-flowing kind of jazz music  And when
that was happening, it was grand.  

  

           You can say what you like about the boulevards
of Barcelona, Buenas Aires, or 42nd Street New York.
But when the sun and stars opened above Yonge Street
in that Shining City north of the Great Lakes.... the
sunlight off the lakes, the gleaming and reflection off the 
new high rise buildings, this brightness shone within our eyes and heart and mind...And the music
pounded its rhythm and rhyme into the bright
clarity of street blues...  played in the darkness of
an old style tavern.
           This loud, howling music ran through our arteries and veins along Mainstreet.... the Mainstreet that flows through the Americas, north and south and central.... one music converges like water - rivers mix with different rivers - one music flows.
         Latin music, Caribbean, hard-edged Rock, R&B, Blues, Punk to Techno to Rap  and on always, forms mixing together, Rock Reggae, each deriving one element from each another... showing the Cosmos what Cosmopolitan means.
         And of course, it all starts with gospel, gospel
and the early blues - one man and one guitar , sitting
in an alley somewhere...singing away his despair.        
         No money, that`s one form of the blues...
your woman`s left on the midnight bus...she wanted
to head south on the train... but the government`s taken
 the train...
         The only logical thing you can do is sell
your wedding ring... and that might keep you in spam and
liquor  for one more day.
          BAD, times are bad - I`ve been squeezing those
coins so hard... the moose ran away, the queen slapped me and the buffalo screamed in fright.
          I pawned my guitar. A beautiful neck on it, an old
Gibson hollow body; then I got arrested, was stuck
in jail, and I lost the pawn.
       
          We all got troubles. And those of us who think
they have no troubles, they haven`t seen the
whole picture yet...
           Either something`s waiting for you around
some corner to jump you and take your shoes... or
the woman you want is disappearing
around some corner.

           I ran into a Scotsman at Spiro`s Cafe. He
showed up all ragged and he looked like he just crawled
out from under a bush somewhere.
           He slept on a park bench in the east end.
 A gang of six teenagers attacked him
and stole his coat and suitcase: 

           "Then  they went for my six pack of beer
and my boots, that`s when I started to fight...
At times like that, your tactics aren`t pretty,"he said.
            I laugh, "I know what you mean. What did
you do?"
            I bit the first guy`s thumb damn near right off...
I gouged the second one in the eye with a stick...
I whacked one fella in the temple with
the steel toe of my boot... I had the steel toe right over
my fist...
          One was bleeding, the other was screaming..
and I started ran after the rest of them in my stocking feet." 
          We laughed and I bought the guy a few beers.
We drank them at Spiro`s.  Spiro joined
us at the table.
          Then he lead me out into a little yard behind
the bar... and we cracked the six-pack which
he`d stashed.   We drank his beer...
we were beginning to enjoy ourselves.
           A woman came down the alley wearing
a long winter coat in the summer...she joined
us and sat on a stump beside us...
           So the day was turning out all right,
after all. 
           She had a good sense of humour.
She took a drink...But it was when she took her coat
off the day really improved...
           She had tight powder blue pants on,
of a light terrycloth type material, which hugged
every curve. Her top was powder blue also and
of the same material.... Her figure
was outstanding... 
            What was driving me crazy was -
she had a distracted air... almost as if she
was moving in her sleep.. and was
unaware of  what a knockout she was...
             The conversation was over
between me and the Scotsman...
all I could think of was jumping her,
pulling her down in the fields like
a lion does a wildebeast, and
feeding on her until the orgasmic
moment passed.

                Rhythms of the river, rhythms of the sea, rhythms
of the City of Man, the City of Women.

          The scene honked, blasted , ran and crashed
thru the sharp electric light. The music ran into the heart of the year... Until the year we were living was all years,
this very day ... all the way back to the time when there was no history, and the original Ancient City played "The House of the Rising Sun" for heavily made-up,perfumed and lipsticked women, lounging by the waters of Babylon.
           The people who emerged passing on the street were Archetypes, the gods of human psychology rising out of the original sea...through everlasting mists...   the ancient city
resounded in this new one.

        

           As usual it`s ` Urban Survival` at street level... Needle in the arm level. Machetes at 3:00AM level... and gunshots on the fire escape, hookers with crack  
pipes on the roof out back, just up the seven stairs...
        This is the level I lived at, this was the
hopeless disaster I came to love...
where suicide is always a possibility, and
passionate love can blossom in an instant.


               THE MUSIC FOR THE STRIPPERS
DOWNSTAIRS WOULD WAKE ME UP AT NOON...
I`d throw some water in my face... and stumble downstairs
to where the bright summer sun would slap you in the forehead  and you`d stagger back and lean against the
hot bright glass outside the mirrored tavern.
            I`d lean back beside the hookers, and we`d laugh
a bit, and tell highly suggestive jokes, dirty and
otherwise... and tell stories about who chased who 
naked across the asphalt roofs with the leg of a chair in his hand.
            "And he was a paying customer, man!" Ruby says,  "And,Peter, did I marry him?"
            "Not yet Ruby, not yet..."I said.
             "Then why he acting this way?"she calls out, seeming to be complaining as she rubbed
my groin right at the packed traffic jamming passed...
and people looking out and watching close,
as I stood swaying in my pants,
between swats and grabs and feels...
 Ruby steps forward in her spiked heels
leans forwards and thrusts her breasts in
the face of a young man in  the back seat 
of somebody car.
             "Suki yelled out, "Watch it!  Cops!"
So Ruby adjusts her satin blouse...
              But no, it`s merely Ezmeralda, our Jamaican
lady cop, who walks past and gives me a wink. and
steps past through the tavern door to go downstairs... 
She walks downstairs where the male
strippers dance, and where Mike has his Greek souvlaki
and steak and burger stand...  I can still taste the steak
sandwich and I want one even now as I write this.

          Ezmerelda would go downstairs in hot-looking plainclothes to see who was selling what and who was shooting what quantity of heroin, or the new synthetic drug,
China White, which was a fentanyl-PCP mix which
would put you right over the moon, if you snorted just
a tiny line...
         And this fine looking woman sweetly asking
around... "Do you know where I can get some?"
          And some men falling for her tender trap, whisked
from our comfy bar right into the dark cells of the Don Jail
in an instant.
          None of us  would talk to her about anything serious,  naturally, and she took this as a given, an understood fact.
           She became part of the scene down there. She
preyed upon the newcomers and the crazies
who from time to time lost their minds.

             "Ruby says, pulling  at me, "Let`s step back into your
office... I`ll relieve this burden for you....Make you ready
cheered up to face the day. Just for you,
Johnny ---only ten dollars. But keep it a secret,"
she whispers in my ear.
             "Not right now, Ruby," I said. "I need buy lots of wine..."I`m pulling back and stepping away.
             "Aw... Johnny, you know and I know you want it."
             
              I`m walking south along the wide sidewalk...
sun gleaming off the chrome of cars, sparkling and spot-lighting off the windshields.... Twenty feet away
I shout back to the girls, "You almost had me this time, Ruby!"
              I hear laughter behind me...catcalls and the 
shouted taunt: "Next time... you don`t
 have a chance!"
              The young women shriek with laughter in their
miniskirts and spandex pants... all of them
wearing stiletto heels. One or two are looking cool
in sunglasses.
 
               I stop at the red light at Yonge St and Dundas,
catch my breath.  Ah, what a marvellous morning!
Bottles of sparking wine to purchase... strippers
to watch, a bright red gleaming Gibson guitar to caress
 and music to play on stage... in the long
dark cavern of the Zanzibar, giving out to the
sunny street...  

       A different kind of Eden can be found.

                              ***********

             
    
          

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

CONNNED INTO GUILT, PAYING FOR FORGIVENESS

I have built up quite a traffic jam of unfinished drafts. This is the first of a series of short articles, called

           

      WRITER`S NOTEBOOK




           The Mechanics of Shame:

        

          Yes, it`s a strange world...strange and mysterious.
And odd things happen, too.

      This is so basic and simple, that it`s hard
to understand. Nobody sees the obvious.
When we get too close to a subject, we get
blinded to what is going on.

       Despite being a necessary act, sex and discussing sex is still  kind of taboo...   BUT it is the centre of our existence,  centre of our bodies, too, and the tree at the centre of the garden.
         And it`s  "bad" if we talk about it too openly.
I`m amazed that after all we`ve been through, this is
still the case.
        Yet the PLEASURE INCENTIVE  is how Nature
organizes and directs the things we do.

       We feed ourselves because it feels good to eat....
the Pleasure Incentive runs almost every aspect of our
lives.....

        Even single-celled organisms follow  pleasure
as they  hunt down food and devour it.
 it feels good to eat food and to have a full stomach.
         Necessary activities, like sex, would be a chore
if there was not pleasure involved
          We are engineered internally so as to do the
activities that ensure the survival of our  species.
         Eating and procreating - two activities that we feel
pleasure doing:  two activities essential to our survival.
 
         The basic question - is this: how can we
feel guilt for something that is at the core of
our being, something essential to the species,
an activity that nature gives us the
PLEASURE INCENTIVE to do.
         Feeling guilty for having sex is
like feeling guilty for eating, or feeling shame
because you need to take another
breath.
        We might as well say,

"I APOLOGIZE FOR WHAT I AM."

        And we do apologize

But this, exactly, is the SCAM:

     "We`ll absolve you of your guilt, we`ll wipe
your slate and your soul clean. But you must 
pay us for forgiveness."
       We`re supposed to pay for forgiveness
to exactly the same people who convinced us
sex is evil.
            
          An analogy is this: a person shoves a 
grenade up your ass . And now the same
person is making you pay to
get it out.
          Does this sound reasonable to you?

           It`s like the protection racket,
only worse.

          Since you`ll always have to have sex,
you`ll always have to pay to be cleansed.
         The clerics have had an unending source 
of income - from the beginning, the dawn of man.
          With this sort of cash rolling in, you can
build things. Basilicas can be built.
          Basilicas and bank accounts.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

TRY A MINDSHOCK! EXISTENTIALISM AT ITS MOST BASIC ................TRACKING YOURSELF.



                                        TRY A MINDSHOCK!


EXISTENTIALISM AT ITS MOST BASIC





             it`s good to remember that we live in the
midst of inexplicable Mystery all the time.                                                
             We live on a rock that`s travelling something like
eighteen thousand miles a second through space.
              The sub-atomic world is a not just different than
we thought it to be; it`s  stranger than we CAN rationally
analyse  it to be.
               How can the rational mind understand chaos theory?
                Rigid thinking will not get us there.
                 "Anyone who thinks he can understand
quantum physics, does not understand quantum physics."

          It`s a seething whirl of infinitesimal particles and
charges that  appear at unpredictable times and places.
And these miniscule charges and waves or particles
appear at unpredictable times  to be CONSCIOUS
            Consciousness can be encountered in
places you`d never expect  awareness to be.
              I have encountered  mind
in places school and science insists
it cannot be.

         We are not in a position to make
"final" scientific statements
about anything.

      We can say X and Y behave this way
together most of the time.... but, if you bring
p1 into the equation, all bets are off. And if
Z is anywhere nearby, forget about it!     

           
        
       
              Let me ask you a question. If
there mysteriously appears to be consciousness
in the microcosm, is it not possible
there is consciousness in the macrocosm, also?                        
              If you spend long enough  in the bush
watching the water, and watching the birds
(as they watch you), and watching the skies...
 And if you have no radio, phone or T.V.,
you will be surprised at what you may see.
               For one thing, your telepathic
abilities increase dramatically.
               You know when someone is going
to visit you, long before they appear.
                 Other forms of consciousness
may well approach you, as well.

            
                PREJUDGE NOTHING, UNLEARN EVERYTHING  **

             **  This is Rule 3 in the School For Mystics, what
we call our, "Foundation Rules." There are not very many
of them. 
                                            

                 One of my favourite mystics
we talk about in the School For Mystics
is Meister Eckhart 
                 He said: 
                
       "THE EYE WITH WHICH I SEE GOD IS THE SAME EYE
         WITH WHICH GOD SEES ME."  

           This is what I`m getting at... this is what you might 
start seeing in the bush.If you sit and watch
long enough, you might see yourself.

        

      But which self do you intend to see? 
       
           I choose to live in a mysterious universe, and so this is
how the universe responds to me.


Try this:       A MINDSHOCK

            Look into yourself long enough and you will
discover a mirror-like effect... in which consciousness
mirrors consciousness
             What your mind mirrors is your own mind,
and it is NOT your own mind.
              What is it that stares back at you in this
immaculate mirror within? 
                                 *************
          


            

       When  you are exploring  inner space,
it`s best to leave logic and rationality. You can`t catch a
catfish with a rigid bowl; you can catch a catfish
with a screen. 
         (There`s an old Japanese sketch to this effect.  I`ll cite the artist)        
       It`s necessary to explore with an open mind - a screen
has holes in it; it is not a rigid system.  This is what
mindshocks are about.... implosions that aid you
in apprehending fluid reality, implosions that aid you
in realization - so you can walk comfortably in this world of paradox
where we all live.
      
              

A FIELD TEST:             This is something else that you might try. Greet the
universe out loud... Shout out your greeting.
           Then ask a question at the sky and rock and trees.
If you can pay attention for twelve hours...if you pay attention
to the earth, and sun and clouds and trees and bush around you
and the birds and animals.... Give it twelve
hours WITH NO DISTRACTIONS...
           See if you don`t get an answer.................(if not, give it three days).
            
                                                                             
            The human mind is very powerful. The human mind
can guide reality,  inter-relating with the things
around us.

          I choose to live in a mysterious universe
          And so this is how the universe responds to me.

         This is Existentialism at it`s most basic.
          To quote Mohammed Ali: 

       "I TOLD EVERYONE I WAS THE GREATEST
                     EVEN BEFORE I KNEW I WAS THE GREATEST."

            This is the power of the human mind. 
            It in fact can actually change reality.     




NOTE:   TRACKING THE WOLVERINE, TRACKING YOURSELF                                                                                            


 *When you track a wolverine, he`s been know to circle around behind you and track you.
So you`re tracking yourself. You have to be extremely careful he doesn`t bite you in the ass
when he follows you following him.
       After he`s eaten his fill, he will bury his food the food but first he will piss all over it....and
His scent is almost as bad as  a skunk`s.  When he fights a bear, he goes right
for the balls. Since he`s faster and lower than a bear, he will often chase a bear
away from it`s kill.

        He`ll break into a solitary trapper`s cabin, eat all his food
and ruin the rest and decimate the place, tearing everything up.  You
get back to your cabin and your pillows are torn up; your long underwear is
in shreds, your blankets and your winter coat are torn
in half.  And the place reeks... from the nasty  fellow pissing everywhere.
    
        Dangerous as the wolverine can be, he`s never been known
to laugh out loud at human folly,..as far as I know. Also, he`s never been
known to hide in your bed and jump you and penetrate you  by
surprise when you arrive home and try to light your oil lamp
in the dark.
         This is what happens in the Wait-A-Bit stories, to Artie and
to several others.     
         BUT these are stories about the bush. And myths are born in the
wilds, because strange things happen there. I`ve seen stranger stuff
than the king of the weasels having sex with a human being.
          I won`t tell you these things all at once, because you`ll think
I`m crazy.
          So I`ll slip these singular events into my stories one
by one, like I`m doing now.
           These are stories about the bush, like a campfire
story, or a fishing story. Exaggeration has been known to
enter into these kinds of stories all the time.

          


                            
         
            


     

 

                                               

              
                





         




        


          
                        







                                                       The School For Mystics (C )2000 by William G. Milne
                                                        As a title and a term of art, as an internet process
                                                        of teaching and learning, as  a title of a collection
                                                         of articles and stories.
                                                                      

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

IT WAS DARK AS A COAL ROOM WITH THE CHUTE SHUT AND THE DOOR BANGED CLOSED------------------------------------------- HANK STUMBLES DOWN TOWARDS THE FLATLANDS AS THE DEVIL BEASTS HOOT AND WATCH


TALES OF WAIT-A-BIT            (Part 5)
_________________________________________________




1/
        Hank waits til his  dugout-foxhole  room-mate
falls asleep over his desk once more,
The bastard snores like a chain saw... no... louder with
whistles and roars, abrupt snorts and coughs, then long
silences.....
Hank the reporter listens so carefully he almost starts
scribbling notes again – instead he writes a sentence more
slowly: 
 
IT WAS DARK AS A COAL ROOM WITH THE CHUTE
SHUT, AND THE DOOR BANGED CLOSED
--- 
        HANK couldn`t see the fingers in front of his face,
could hardly find his nose to feel it...  He closed his jacket and
got ready to leave the enlarged foxhole. Frank Wilcox and
his dead Uncle Henry called it home.They still hadn`t found
Uncle Henry`s body.
        Hank still couldn`t believe, after the plane dropped
him off, that no plane would return there
for three months!  He still almost had a tantrum every
time he thought of being "trapped here in this
god-forsaken hell-hole for ninety days!"
         He couldn`t stand the silence.  The
silence really pissed him off. He shouted and screamed
and kicked things. He discovered he quite liked
howling and screaming...You couldn`t
scream and howl in New york City.  Despite this
one benefit, he thought:"I gave up my job
at the New York Times for this!"
         " SHIT!"
          Even now, after being here nine days -
which seemed like half a year - he still got the
screaming meemees, and he had to kick out
in all directions and grind his teeth. He would
like to have run someplace, but the Mackenzie
River is 17,000 miles long. And Wait-A-Bit
was not at the semi-civilized end of the
river. 
         You can get the screaming meemees
anywhere. People often get them in the
tropics, when the moon is moving to the
full.
         You can get the screaming
meamees in jail.
          "I gotta get out of here! This is
WORSE than jail!" Hank shouts, gasping for
breath in panic.

            If Artie or Mayor caught him having
of one his shouting, kicking and
dancing tantrums.... they both laughed
so hard they`d end up rolling in the
dirt and howling. The Mayor`d kick his legs up
in the air when he laughed, which only seemed
to make Hank more furious
           They laughed because they knew exactly
what Hank was going through... and this
just made more of a riot, since they`d experienced
it themselves.
           Everyone in Wait-A-Bit would have
a screaming fit, every once in a while -
all sixteen of them had gone through severe
panic - every couple of months.
            "Maybe it`s the unending silence,
when it`s not fly season, I mean. There
are no distractions here whatsoever."
            Frank the Mayor nodded his head
in agreement, then spat some tobacco
into the sand. The ants would like find
some use for it, "When you`re right,
you`re right," he said.
             "Let`s go see how the shine is
holding up. And maybe we`d
make a list of possible entertainments."
              Artie never needed encouragement 
to the cool dark space in his bar. The two
men went inside. They poured two drinks
of overproof and pineapple juice, each, down their
throats...They started thinking of things
for the list of Fun Things To Do.

The list started like this:
(1) Drink our shine;
(2) Howl at the moon;
(3) Watch the Devil Beasts
         and form strategies;
(4) Make bets on who flips out
          next.
(5) Visit Matilda`s caravan.                               (That`s a start).

            


        When the day turned to night, Hank,
the reporter from Maryland got ready to sneak
off out of the decimated village and walk
downhill the 3 or 4 hundred yards to the
lowlands by the big river....

He`d been told there were still a number 

of town boats turned over up down by river and chained

together “although the chain`s bout rusted out,. So they say, “
Frank   had said more than one time:

       “ Nobody goes down near the river at night
since we lost the heavy ammo... You need 50 calibre and  bigger
 guns to shoot the beasts when they gather and approach in
a crowd. "
      " If there`s any more `n one I wouldn`t try to shoot `em with my 303."
2/


         Frank pats the bulge under his right arm,
where he keeps his sawed off old Lee Enfield
under his grey tattered raincoat.

        " If Six or seven of the bastards are coming at us
we want the heavy barrelled
guns which our drunk pilot (`Flyboy`) burnt and bent, 
destroyed and twisted out of all recognition...by the heat
of the blast.  Just one 2000 pound
bomb will do that....And he landed what?Five?  Can you put
five in one cruise missile? Or do you just
drop em? He used enough,anyway, to clear the whole downtown
area to rubble, small pebbles and fine sand...
 Frank said.

"To bend a heavy gun barrel like that! Boggles the mind!
Fucks me right up when I think about it....
Being left up river here  defenceless like 20 lovesick virgins...
with only peashooters to defend our   virgin
assholes.... With those Devils smelling out our weakness.
We haven`t shot one of them in six months.
Half a mile riverwards, and  hard with the thought of
snouting us....They`re thinking of making a raid."

 Frank Wilcox mumbling into his
over-proof shine gleaming in a tin cup,
gleaming just like his crazy,sadistic eyes ---
If you look real close at him. You can see he`s not just
crazed and sadistic; he`s terrified...


3/

"What the hell did you just say?" Frank mumbles to himself
in a croak and a whisper... shuddering and chuckling with
dreamland frights and delights.....He`s asleep again.

HANK SNEAKS OVER TO THE DOOR, TIP-TOEING PAST
FRANK`S MACHINE GUN SNORE, CUTS OPEN the tarp
stretched taut and tied over the door hole --- With the tarp gone,
it looks just like the entrance to a tunnel.

He slices the cords open, slips past the tarp into the night...... lets the tarp waft closed again... doesn`t strap it back down,,,, kinda inconsiderate....

    HE FIGURES his movements are unseen, He`s sneaking off  down the Main Lane,,, not really hearing the whistles and high-pitched hoots, growling chuckles and low rough guffaws of the Wolverine “Devil Beasts” watching him stumble down the road to the flats below...
    The creatures whom the Indians call the Devil may or not be smarter than men – but the Inuit and the First Nations people who have lived with them for thousands of years, they think they are. They`re sure the Beasts know what the humans are thinking. Whether or not the wolverine is smarter than man, well, 
that`s not completely decided; the jury is still out on that.

One thing is certain, though, the ones rolling in the mud laughing 
so hard at Hank as he descended  right into their dens
  those weasels that night were smarter than this man.
                                                                                                                                                               
                                              ******************

   

 

 




TRACKING A WOLVERINE AND OTHER STRANGENESS

            

 *When you track a wolverine, he`s been know to circle around behind you and track you.
  When he`s eaten his fill, he will bury the food but first he will piss all over it....and
his scent is almost as bad as that of a skunk.  When he fights a bear, he goes right
for the balls. Since he`s faster and lower than a bear, he will often chase a bear
away from it`s kill. He`l break into a solitary trapper`s cabin, eat all his food
and ruin the rest and decimate the place, tearing everything up.  You
get back to your cabin and your pillows are torn up; your long underwear is
in shreds, your blankets and your winter coat are torn
in half.  And the place reeks... from the friendly fellow pissing everywhere.
        Dangerous as the wolverine can be, he`s never been known
to laugh out loud at human folly. As far as I know, also, he`s never been
known to hide in your bed or behind your door and jump you and
 penetrate you as soon you show up and your eyes have not yet
adjusted to the dark.
          But you never can tell.These are stories about the bush.
And myths are born in the bush, because strange things happen there.
I`ve seen stranger stuff than the wolverine - king of the weasel
family - having sex with a human
          I won`t tell you these things all at once, because you`ll think
I`m crazy. So I`ll slip these singular events into my stories one
by one, so you don`t write me off.
            ALSO, this is a story about the bush, like a campfire
story, or a fishing story. Exaggeration has been known to
enter into these kinds of stories all the time.

                          IT`S GOOD TO REMEMBER WE LIVE IN
THE MIDST OF INEXPLICABLE MYSTERY
ALL THE TIME.
            
              We live on a rock that`s travelling something like
eighteen thousand miles a second through space.
              The sub-atomic world is a not just different than
we imagined it to be; it`s perhaps stranger than we CAN imagine


It`s a seething whirl of infinitesimal particles and
charges that now  appears at times
to be conscious!
            Consciousness can be encountered in
places no one expects to find it.
              I have encountered consciousness
in places that school and science insisted
consciousness could not possible be.
              But what does our science know about
what is possible. 

            Let me ask you a question. If
there mysteriously appears to be consciousness
in the microcosm, is it not possible
there is consciousness in the macrocosm, also?
              If you spend long enough  in the bush
watching the water, and watching the birds
(as they watch you), and watching the skies...
 And if you have no radio, phone or T.V.,
you will be surprised at what you may see.
               For one thing, your telepathic
abilities increase dramatically.
               You know when someone is going
to visit you, long before they appear.
                And other forms of consciousness
may well approach you.

                 One of my favourite mystics
discussed  in the School For Mystics
is Meister Eckhart.  He said: 
                
       "THE EYE WITH WHICH I SEE GOD IS THE SAME EYE
         WITH WHICH GOD SEES ME."  

This is what I`m getting at... this is what you might 
start seeing in the bush.