DreamingBear at the Temple of Peace


Posted on 25th February 2010 by Ramsses in Uncategorized

Some are born dumb, some achieve dumbness, and some have dumbness thrust upon them. I am of the essence of dumbness. It is why I seek out enlightened beings. Take DreamingBear, for instance. He is everything that I am not. He is happy and free. He has fun. He swims with the dolphins. He chose to live on Maui as the most beautiful place on earth when he could have lived anywhere. He speaks poetry. He has the Pharaonic falcon tatooed on his chest. He has not just lived in Egypt but is intimately acquainted with every part of it. He carries a fabulously carved cane with a cobra curling around it. He doesn’t need a cane.

It is the little things that are the most telling. He drums on something that looks like a flying saucer, a resonance amplifier, he calls it, except I haven’t got the name right, and he was explaining it to us when a big bug plopped on his face. He so gently brushed it away. When a woman came in handing out flyers for her missing dog, he unhesitatingly accommodated her and asked everyone to hold a thought for the wellbeing of that creature.

I’m not used to this. I don’t like going to religious services, and I especially don’t like being asked to interact. But he gets away with it. He’s like an outrageously happy kid who wants everyone to feel what he feels.

It was the photo that got me, a diamond flash, the beautiful poet’s face, long curly dark hair like the Sun King, Louis XIV, his finger against his temple, the look of cool irony and lofty thought. He has robbed my heart.

Hank Wesselman at Studio Maui


Posted on 17th February 2010 by Ramsses in Uncategorized

My First Workshop:

About thirteen years ago I came across Hank Wesselman’s book, Spiritwalker, the author’s account of how, as an anthropologist who had recently taken up residence on the island of Hawaii, he began to have spontaneous altered states that opened up another world. He would find himself in the mind of a man five thousand years in the future postapocalyptic world. Both his host and he were undergoing a shamanic initiation. Hank’s scientific worldview suddenly underwent radical adjustment. So did mine. And mine had never even been all that scientific. I had never read anything like this. To my further amazement, I discovered he was giving a shamanic workshop in nearby San Diego, and, in the throes of disengaging myself from a long, dark classic cult experience, I went to it with the giddy exhilaration of a bird being freed from a cage. There was one more workshop a year later, and that was it. I went to Maui and never saw him again.

Until last week. We passed a fist-sized broken rock around the circle. These stones are found in ancient sites along with scoured bones. Our ancestors used them for scraping off the meat. Animal protein resulted in bigger brains, and the rest is history. Hank has been working on the digs in East Africa for decades. The missing link predicted by Darwin has recently been found, half human, half ape, four and a half million years old.

Kahuna Hale Makua, full-blooded Hawaiian and high priest of Polynesia, effectively appointed Hank, a white man, as his heir before his passing. Anyone who takes seriously the concept of the planet as a living being might find this of interest.

My Second Workshop:

Maybe I’m eclectic, or maybe it’s the Great Mystery, but contradictions intrigue me, and while much of what Hank teaches is in direct opposition to my religion, I only find myself enriched. The age of the guru is over. You must never kill your ego. Tantra or sex is a perfectly valid means to spiritual awakening. The best teacher you will ever find is yourself. You can access God or your own oversoul at any time.

And this from a man who contacts Christ, as does his wife, Jill, in their shamanic states from time to time, to say nothing of the myriad of other animal spirit helpers, guides and great masters, when they are doing their healing work. At the end of the workshop Hank paired us up for some healing excercises. First he showed us how to access power through the top of our heads, drawing it down to the solar plexus with the breath to charge the energy body, and cueing the somatic memory with a mudra. The woman I was working with placed one hand on my bad arthritic hip and the other on my head, and did the exercise. I was in no small amount of pain. It was gone, completely gone, for many blessed hours. We did a harmonizing exercise together, facing each other cross-legged, hands together, left palm up, right palm down. Suddenly I was aware of this woman as a lovely, sweet spirit. I was utterly amazed. You don’t see what’s right in front of you. She was naturally gifted for this work. She had the vision of spirits around us while doing these exercises.

There was so much more. Hank spoke of his great friendship with Hale Makua, whose extraordinary assertions uncannily matched scientific chronology. “How far back do you go?” Hank asked him. “Eighteen and a half million years.” Hmm. Let’s see. The planet was covered in vast forests … and the first anthropoids emerged. Okay.

Hank also is an Elder. This is no slight matter. Karmic predisposition or even predestination does not alone confer that title. It comes with a titanic struggle. We’re talking mavericks of the uncharted domain.

Sacred Voyage


Posted on 7th February 2010 by Ramsses in Uncategorized

It’s been two months since I’ve swum to Black Rock. That’s how long it took to recover my strength from the swine flu that nearly killed me. It’s a gorgeous Saturday morning and I get right in the water at Hanakao’o Beach Park, pull on my fins and propel myself below the surface like a fish. No matter that my body protests against the exertion, today I’m going to do it. I come up for a breath and find myself meeting the challenging look of a crew member of a canoe about to be launched. Will I be such a fool as to block their progress? He decides that I will not. It is quickly apparent that this is no mere outing and that these are serious Hawaiians, three strong fellows covered in the ritual cross-hatching of sacred Hawaiian tatoo, two others concealing their fat under heavy shirts, and another so covered in leis, the ceremonial leaf and flower garlands of Hawaii, that he might have been an offering to the gods. Where were they going? I had no idea, but it did strike me as a happy coincidence that I had been selected, so to speak, to be the first spirit they met on the waters. They would surely not have attached much importance to it, but then spirits are notoriously elusive.

Later, after I had returned from my swim and was reading on the rocks just south of the beach, a tourist lady asked me why there were so many flowers in the sand. I told her I was reasonably certain that it had something to do with some kind of sacred voyage that had embarked earlier.