Tepotzlan, estado de morelos.
I fear this fear alone, of not reaching the sky. The fear of vanishing before the perfect piece of art, the master piece, the whole into one, the ultimate scream of joy and existence, to vanish before the ultimate journey, the last supper. The new golden rule.
I said to her: - You have built my tower so high, you have set my dreams so high, you have came so deep inside.
There is always such an intensity inside my soul and my body: a constant emergency state, emergency to live every moment, to travel further, to paint bigger, faster, dig the tunnel of light, to rise into insanity, to explode all limits, to set me free, to set the world free, to rebel against the end, to set myself on fire.
DUENDE: mystical force that takes the torero when the bull is thrown into the arena.
The painter needs to feel the duende in order to achieve a good painting. The intellectual process is fading away and the intuition is taking over, like a blind guide, any hesitation will be fatal. When there is a choice to make it is because there is no passion.
The channel is taking the artist, fragile and naked, the scream of earth, the fire, the wind, the artist vanishes behind the elements.
Amatlan, estado de morelos,
Mexico, jan 2008
We arrived in a secluded piece of secret paradise. We live in a tipi by a giant rock mountain, where grow an immortal amate tree, like an octopus on the rock. Peace, here is silent and vast, I feel the universe is opening again . We decorated the inside of the tipi with -dia de los muertos- flags, suspended drawings, an altar, colorful legends, thousand of fruits, thousand of uncompleted dreams. We live in a circle, with no angles, no dead ends, no corners, no lines, with an ascending spiral. I just want to become a filter.
We found a refuge to expand.
I need movement, no choreography, no repetition, I need no salvation, I need provocation, invocation, I need a rebellion, an explosion, a new architecture.
I draw some lines like a swan is swimming on the lake at midnight: delicate, in silence, erotic, fluid , solitary, universal.
I need to make love with a tree, I need to cover myself in dust. I need a new ritual, a new way to loose control, a new trance, a new perfect agony.
My art is ready to rise, loosing all ego, losing all references, seeking for perfect geometry, romantic asymmetry.
tacubaya, you are gravity, but from the other side. You are my last days on planet earth. You make me fearless, you make me naked and honest.
What I am seeking for? Looking east, falling into sunset, looking west, born in seven seconds, the road to illumination is a roller coaster, in dust, in abstraction, in rebellion, in fury, in a process , alchemy without recipe, running blinded by the sun , running under death and rebirth, running naked and free, fearless, alone with you, running. Free running.
The moon is becoming full , more full, I hide behind my poetry: I dive into words to avoid looking ahead, for a few seconds, there is no issue. My hands are dancing alone, shall we re-name all gods? Shall we strip them, lick their soul? Shall we resist the temptation to call our discoveries truth? Remaining into abstraction will protect us from all system, all order, all control, all repetition. Remaining abstract will garranty our freedom. Our truth is research, our destination is seeking.
My hands are dancing alone, would you remind me to come back one day, at the surface, to exist in between two brushstrokes, to be silent in between two screams, and see.
My hands are dirty, dirty like a dirt road .
Colors, fossils of colors.
I pray for the bird of prey to come and play. To become a vampire, take me higher. I can vanish in my visions, forever. I can loose any contact with reality. I can loose myself, into insanity into purity. I can become silent and you will never hear my voice again. Speaking in tongues, sacred tongue . Nuptial dance of spirits, I can see them. Birds on fire. I will burn myself. I will make love to you until I cannot breathe no more.
I possess nothing,
Nothing but the carnival of visions in my soul, nothing but all dancing painted lines whirling in the sky,
Nothing but the screams of joy, the secret passage, the alchemic invisible wheel.
I possess nothing but the limitless territory of my visions, and the infinite kingdom of my dreams.
All white walls will be mine for e few moments. All virgin skins will be mine for a few seconds.
And I possess the chants of the sirens, the fossils of light, the traces of love, the choreography of the winds, I have the time, the seconds of freedom: the precious seconds of freedom.
I possess only the devotion, the passion, the urge to exist and to create, the sacred hunt,, the ultimate search, the symphony of ever changing destination, all the roads, the pure devotion, the invisible constellations, all the legends to be written, the unknown tree of knowledge. I possess only the distance between two palm trees , the secret alphabet, a letter to a secret lover, the power to transform and be transformed, a suitcase filled with brushes and visions, a soul filled with flowers. I have a thousand seeds in my hands, tides, imaginary landscapes, unknown mandalas, secret images to come back to the surface, perfect geometries.
Peace , here, is not a revelation. It is just another minute, another layer.
Peace, here, is just another way to close your eyes.
Peace, here, is just another way to raise your fists to the sky.
Peace , here tonight.
Free spirits of tacubaya:
We have met before
We have met when they built the pyramids
When they painted the caverns
When they created the fireworks
When a new kind of tree was born
We met when they lived in circles
We met when they we’re running naked
We met the day philosophy was born
We met before they wrote the legends
We met when the moon was full for the very first time
We met when epicure was still a child
We met under the mango tree,
The fields of joy
Let’s explode all limits
Let’s create a legend
A pure legend of love
Let’s provoke ourselves, escape from normality, experience velocity. Assassinate reality, let’s travel to another level. Let’s reveal ourselves to each other, without limits, without delay.
Let’s run into the secret fields of joy, be magic, unexpected, unpredictable, be naked, vast. Let ‘s give new names to everything, to everyone.
Let’s leave abundance, leave no trace. Let’s build a sailboat , with painted sails : a ship with no maps, no captain.
A ship without rules, a ship with no sea, just you and me.
And I tell her at sunset: -Hypnotize me, rape me, change me, love me, push me, hold me, sleep in my arms.
Protect me for what they want. Manifestation, give me wings, burn me, fill me, feed me,
Be my tides, be my cycles, be my music, my silence, my muse and my teacher, erase my memories, erase my future, be my labyrinth, be my absinthe,
Blind me, capture me, bite me, save me, love me,
Let’s go to the place where the feast never ends.
We met in atlantis. We met another time in Pompeii. We met before humans we’re created. We met when we we’re migration birds, gypsies from the sky. We met in circles. We met when humans we’re painting with their hands. We met when time was not on a line.
We met when there was no you and me.
We met when there was just one entity
Amatlan, estado de morelos, 7 am:
I am staring at the natural door into the giant rock, la puerta , and I am asking myself when will be the right time to vanish: I will choose the day and the time, the place,
And there will be a last brushstroke, a last scream of freedom.
Art is free. Art is a liberating act . Art haves no future and no past, art is a moment, a ritual. Art is a rebellion against linearity. Art is the elixir.
Art shall fears reality: art shall escape from regularity, escape from geometry, art shall be unpredictable, asymmetric.
I wake up this morning , under the sacred amate tree, delicate sun, every ray of light is so fragile, so sensual, so mysterious: creating a mandala in air, in suspension. The full moon was so full last night into the fields of joy: her light was so bright, so intense, all ghosts came to dance around us.
Fernando channeled a secret tongue to explain to me several layers of visions. His hands we’re dancing like psychedelic swans on a blue lake after midnight: a very beautiful warrior.
( being connected vertically is the only way to move further horizontally)
he said: - under silent thunder, I am becoming a freedom warrior.
From the ashes, we build another legend, another whisper.
The full moon came with violence to wash away our weakness.
It takes dedication to be awake, to transform reality at every moment, to levitate, to transcend, to constantly push the limits, to filter destiny, to draw new constellations, to plant seeds everywhere.
It takes devotion to write your own prophecies, to build your own universe, to write your own legend: to discover your own truth, and to share it without preaching it.
It is a delicate journey: we are building an invisible temple.
Sometimes, it is hard to see, and to know where we are going, for so long , for what?
But the voice of the freedom soldier is whispering to us to hold on to the march,
THE FREEDOM WARRIOR SAYS:
--Keep walking, keep on creating, accumulate power, polish your diamonds, seek for a new alphabet, search for a new iconography, new symbols: purify yourself, leave behind skins and futile pleasures, the hunt is infinite, with no rest for those who seeks
give birth to a new iconography
plant the seeds of a new revolution, new revelation
plant the seeds of a new vision.
Art is our channel
Art is our weapon.
Art is our fuel.
And the freedom soldier says:
- do not expect the road to be easy and comfortable: the road will be unpredictable, broken, fields of joy fields of silence, hurricane of words, invisible prisons, temptations,
but never let the inspiration go away, keep her with you, at all time.
-let the intuition guide all your manifestations
do not let the seconds fade away
time is all you have, time is your precious tool to transform yourself.
-seek inside for motivation, for ultimate stimulation, and remember, nature is always here with you, just look at her, seek into her for answers, she is your lover
seek inside for fire, explosions, illuminations, candlelight, ands firework
- your road is your destination, warrior, your road is your piece of art, build it with pride and dedication,
I could see the freedom warrior spirit, sitting on the dust ground, around an imaginary fire.
And he says: -Remember the quest of don quichote at every moment: everything is just perception, how you see things. Everything is all inside, ready to be manipulated and transformed,. Reality is just a tool to reveal your visions.
Seven seconds is all that you really have, seven seconds is all that you really need.
Everything can change in a second if you have enough personal power, enough dream power, enough dedication.
Amatlan, full moon:
We found the sacred medicine, the peyotl.
Tonight the moon will be full, we will travel through the door. To the center of planet earth.
All afternoon, I repainted the van, rocinante, with new colors, pale BLUE AND GOLD, sexy and feminine, we washed the dust from the desert. I have painted a portrait of spirits of tacubaya on the back, with tropical blue. I even painted the tires. This van is an engine to bring happiness. A Lithuanian traveler said about our engine: she is a tool to open up souls.
I think you are a messenger of the global kundalini rising breda pivk
FULL MOON
There was many sacred doors put I was never pushed through them.
Through the night, I was always feeling free to dive into a vision or not. Once the door was open, the spiral was taking me without return, a strong manifestation, speed, ascending, mysterious and unknown, but fear was unexisting.
Today, we saw one huichol shaman ( marakame) and his student walk in around the tipis, in direction of the sacred door into the rock. I was painting by the amate tree, in full trance.
The shaman came in silence to see the dance of my brushes, the choreography of the colors. His energy was so intense I was feeling almost shy, naked.
Then, he turned and went to stare at one of my painting, the sacred flight of the pelicans, who was hanged on the tipi. He stared at the painting for 15 minutes, without moving: I felt he really dived into my vision to reach the cosmic cycle.
After sunset, they prepared an altar and a fire, and they invited us to join the ceremony: for the full moon, for the sacred door to penetrate the center of planet earth: the center of ourselves.
We walked into the circle with humility: Fernando, wrapped into dark blanket, looked like a wolf with eagle eyes, iridescent , but soft. The shaman was already into a deep trance, almost menacing,
The shaman started to chant, intricate huichol mantras: so delicate and powerful the sound could brake and vanish into the wind, a very strange sound, feminine and masculine, the most profound, the most inviting, haunting, a visual sound, feeding us with vivid images, a sound that gives a direction to your visions. They offered us, further into the night, with warmth and compassion, the sacred medicine, peyote , after a ritual of prayers to the cactus.
We eaten the cactus, and slowly, the sky opened, the moon opened, the giant rock opened, we could reach the center of earth, climb the tree of knowledge and dance with the moon . All words and fears vanished totally. His chants was guiding us into different layers: I felt like a snake, dusty, I was leaving skins behind, layer after layer, words after words, all memories we’re fading, to make place, to receive. I needed to release myself from myself.
And the moon rises above the rocks, naked, raw: the tree becomes a firework, in negative, in perpetual motion, a giant octopus above our heads, protecting us.
Echoes from distant coyotes, echoes from woman making love in tree house.
Visions came by hundreds: one leading to the other one like a waterfall of light, like tides coming and going, like making love all night.
I felt very close to Fernando, protected close to him.
I traveled so deep inside that it will take months to bring back to the surface all the images, all the emotions.
I went to walk around the trees, around the rays of the moon, around the ancestor’s spirits.
Back to the fire, back to the chants of the shaman, who left his human shape long ago to become pure light, animal, spirit.
After a long pause, I always feel his chant coming a few seconds before he starts to chant. I never felt surprised: there was a message into the silence to announce the voice. He was taking me by the hand to climb the sky.
There was no rules, the ceremony was free: I could come and go, follow my intuition, create circles, walk vanish, whisper, dive.
Real confidence allow you to destroy all system, all rules, all schemas, to just follow your own cycle, the movements of the universe.
At one point, I went to the hole in the rock, la puerta; a hole with offerings and candles, objects offered to planet earth by worshippers and travelers, seekers and lovers. Almost into the hole, I was surfing over it to center of planet earth, at full speed, traveling in between the legs of a woman, tacubaya appeared. I started my own chanting, channeling secret sacred tongue. And all images we’re coming like fireworks, like the flight of the albatross, like an orgasm.
A kaleidoscope of gold rays of light. I was dripping paraffin on her body: honey from ancient Egypt, penetrating her: she was smiling, screaming, crying signing, reaching earth, becoming earth, her long hair became black wings, flight of the swan,
A tree emerge from between her legs, a tree with growing leaves, gold. dancing in air.
Everything was so clear, so beautiful, so dangerous, so sharp like a knife: it was visions that I could never come back from: they we’re doors crossed forever.
I pushed the vision as far as the tunnel was still open.
The tree of fertility, invading my sky, all branches around my body, the leaves on my tongue. Eclipse of my visions.
I came back around the fire: with tears in my eyes, with a mission, still feeling the tacubaya tree around me.
The shaman offered us more peyote , new gates are opening, we are traveling deeper. Everything becomes abstract: all visions now are just layers of colors, like a painting in motion
All my visions we’re free of any relation with humanity, with any elements from the modern world.
It was pure energy, pure serenity.
Toward the end, I visited again the door, with Fernando, where we celebrated ghosts, love, friendship , brotherhood and the pleasure to loose control into the other dimension.
In bed, into the tipi, I reached several orgasms, so strong, so vivid, alive, awake, above, in suspension: the most vibrant and long orgasms I ever experienced alone.
XXX
I fear this fear alone, of not reaching the sky. The fear of vanishing before the perfect piece of art, the master piece, the whole into one, the ultimate scream of joy and existence, to vanish before the ultimate journey, the last supper. The new golden rule.
I said to her: - You have built my tower so high, you have set my dreams so high, you have came so deep inside.
There is always such an intensity inside my soul and my body: a constant emergency state, emergency to live every moment, to travel further, to paint bigger, faster, dig the tunnel of light, to rise into insanity, to explode all limits, to set me free, to set the world free, to rebel against the end, to set myself on fire.
DUENDE: mystical force that takes the torero when the bull is thrown into the arena.
The painter needs to feel the duende in order to achieve a good painting. The intellectual process is fading away and the intuition is taking over, like a blind guide, any hesitation will be fatal. When there is a choice to make it is because there is no passion.
The channel is taking the artist, fragile and naked, the scream of earth, the fire, the wind, the artist vanishes behind the elements.
Amatlan, estado de morelos,
Mexico, jan 2008
We arrived in a secluded piece of secret paradise. We live in a tipi by a giant rock mountain, where grow an immortal amate tree, like an octopus on the rock. Peace, here is silent and vast, I feel the universe is opening again . We decorated the inside of the tipi with -dia de los muertos- flags, suspended drawings, an altar, colorful legends, thousand of fruits, thousand of uncompleted dreams. We live in a circle, with no angles, no dead ends, no corners, no lines, with an ascending spiral. I just want to become a filter.
We found a refuge to expand.
I need movement, no choreography, no repetition, I need no salvation, I need provocation, invocation, I need a rebellion, an explosion, a new architecture.
I draw some lines like a swan is swimming on the lake at midnight: delicate, in silence, erotic, fluid , solitary, universal.
I need to make love with a tree, I need to cover myself in dust. I need a new ritual, a new way to loose control, a new trance, a new perfect agony.
My art is ready to rise, loosing all ego, losing all references, seeking for perfect geometry, romantic asymmetry.
tacubaya, you are gravity, but from the other side. You are my last days on planet earth. You make me fearless, you make me naked and honest.
What I am seeking for? Looking east, falling into sunset, looking west, born in seven seconds, the road to illumination is a roller coaster, in dust, in abstraction, in rebellion, in fury, in a process , alchemy without recipe, running blinded by the sun , running under death and rebirth, running naked and free, fearless, alone with you, running. Free running.
The moon is becoming full , more full, I hide behind my poetry: I dive into words to avoid looking ahead, for a few seconds, there is no issue. My hands are dancing alone, shall we re-name all gods? Shall we strip them, lick their soul? Shall we resist the temptation to call our discoveries truth? Remaining into abstraction will protect us from all system, all order, all control, all repetition. Remaining abstract will garranty our freedom. Our truth is research, our destination is seeking.
My hands are dancing alone, would you remind me to come back one day, at the surface, to exist in between two brushstrokes, to be silent in between two screams, and see.
My hands are dirty, dirty like a dirt road .
Colors, fossils of colors.
I pray for the bird of prey to come and play. To become a vampire, take me higher. I can vanish in my visions, forever. I can loose any contact with reality. I can loose myself, into insanity into purity. I can become silent and you will never hear my voice again. Speaking in tongues, sacred tongue . Nuptial dance of spirits, I can see them. Birds on fire. I will burn myself. I will make love to you until I cannot breathe no more.
I possess nothing,
Nothing but the carnival of visions in my soul, nothing but all dancing painted lines whirling in the sky,
Nothing but the screams of joy, the secret passage, the alchemic invisible wheel.
I possess nothing but the limitless territory of my visions, and the infinite kingdom of my dreams.
All white walls will be mine for e few moments. All virgin skins will be mine for a few seconds.
And I possess the chants of the sirens, the fossils of light, the traces of love, the choreography of the winds, I have the time, the seconds of freedom: the precious seconds of freedom.
I possess only the devotion, the passion, the urge to exist and to create, the sacred hunt,, the ultimate search, the symphony of ever changing destination, all the roads, the pure devotion, the invisible constellations, all the legends to be written, the unknown tree of knowledge. I possess only the distance between two palm trees , the secret alphabet, a letter to a secret lover, the power to transform and be transformed, a suitcase filled with brushes and visions, a soul filled with flowers. I have a thousand seeds in my hands, tides, imaginary landscapes, unknown mandalas, secret images to come back to the surface, perfect geometries.
Peace , here, is not a revelation. It is just another minute, another layer.
Peace, here, is just another way to close your eyes.
Peace, here, is just another way to raise your fists to the sky.
Peace , here tonight.
Free spirits of tacubaya:
We have met before
We have met when they built the pyramids
When they painted the caverns
When they created the fireworks
When a new kind of tree was born
We met when they lived in circles
We met when they we’re running naked
We met the day philosophy was born
We met before they wrote the legends
We met when the moon was full for the very first time
We met when epicure was still a child
We met under the mango tree,
The fields of joy
Let’s explode all limits
Let’s create a legend
A pure legend of love
Let’s provoke ourselves, escape from normality, experience velocity. Assassinate reality, let’s travel to another level. Let’s reveal ourselves to each other, without limits, without delay.
Let’s run into the secret fields of joy, be magic, unexpected, unpredictable, be naked, vast. Let ‘s give new names to everything, to everyone.
Let’s leave abundance, leave no trace. Let’s build a sailboat , with painted sails : a ship with no maps, no captain.
A ship without rules, a ship with no sea, just you and me.
And I tell her at sunset: -Hypnotize me, rape me, change me, love me, push me, hold me, sleep in my arms.
Protect me for what they want. Manifestation, give me wings, burn me, fill me, feed me,
Be my tides, be my cycles, be my music, my silence, my muse and my teacher, erase my memories, erase my future, be my labyrinth, be my absinthe,
Blind me, capture me, bite me, save me, love me,
Let’s go to the place where the feast never ends.
We met in atlantis. We met another time in Pompeii. We met before humans we’re created. We met when we we’re migration birds, gypsies from the sky. We met in circles. We met when humans we’re painting with their hands. We met when time was not on a line.
We met when there was no you and me.
We met when there was just one entity
Amatlan, estado de morelos, 7 am:
I am staring at the natural door into the giant rock, la puerta , and I am asking myself when will be the right time to vanish: I will choose the day and the time, the place,
And there will be a last brushstroke, a last scream of freedom.
Art is free. Art is a liberating act . Art haves no future and no past, art is a moment, a ritual. Art is a rebellion against linearity. Art is the elixir.
Art shall fears reality: art shall escape from regularity, escape from geometry, art shall be unpredictable, asymmetric.
I wake up this morning , under the sacred amate tree, delicate sun, every ray of light is so fragile, so sensual, so mysterious: creating a mandala in air, in suspension. The full moon was so full last night into the fields of joy: her light was so bright, so intense, all ghosts came to dance around us.
Fernando channeled a secret tongue to explain to me several layers of visions. His hands we’re dancing like psychedelic swans on a blue lake after midnight: a very beautiful warrior.
( being connected vertically is the only way to move further horizontally)
he said: - under silent thunder, I am becoming a freedom warrior.
From the ashes, we build another legend, another whisper.
The full moon came with violence to wash away our weakness.
It takes dedication to be awake, to transform reality at every moment, to levitate, to transcend, to constantly push the limits, to filter destiny, to draw new constellations, to plant seeds everywhere.
It takes devotion to write your own prophecies, to build your own universe, to write your own legend: to discover your own truth, and to share it without preaching it.
It is a delicate journey: we are building an invisible temple.
Sometimes, it is hard to see, and to know where we are going, for so long , for what?
But the voice of the freedom soldier is whispering to us to hold on to the march,
THE FREEDOM WARRIOR SAYS:
--Keep walking, keep on creating, accumulate power, polish your diamonds, seek for a new alphabet, search for a new iconography, new symbols: purify yourself, leave behind skins and futile pleasures, the hunt is infinite, with no rest for those who seeks
give birth to a new iconography
plant the seeds of a new revolution, new revelation
plant the seeds of a new vision.
Art is our channel
Art is our weapon.
Art is our fuel.
And the freedom soldier says:
- do not expect the road to be easy and comfortable: the road will be unpredictable, broken, fields of joy fields of silence, hurricane of words, invisible prisons, temptations,
but never let the inspiration go away, keep her with you, at all time.
-let the intuition guide all your manifestations
do not let the seconds fade away
time is all you have, time is your precious tool to transform yourself.
-seek inside for motivation, for ultimate stimulation, and remember, nature is always here with you, just look at her, seek into her for answers, she is your lover
seek inside for fire, explosions, illuminations, candlelight, ands firework
- your road is your destination, warrior, your road is your piece of art, build it with pride and dedication,
I could see the freedom warrior spirit, sitting on the dust ground, around an imaginary fire.
And he says: -Remember the quest of don quichote at every moment: everything is just perception, how you see things. Everything is all inside, ready to be manipulated and transformed,. Reality is just a tool to reveal your visions.
Seven seconds is all that you really have, seven seconds is all that you really need.
Everything can change in a second if you have enough personal power, enough dream power, enough dedication.
Amatlan, full moon:
We found the sacred medicine, the peyotl.
Tonight the moon will be full, we will travel through the door. To the center of planet earth.
All afternoon, I repainted the van, rocinante, with new colors, pale BLUE AND GOLD, sexy and feminine, we washed the dust from the desert. I have painted a portrait of spirits of tacubaya on the back, with tropical blue. I even painted the tires. This van is an engine to bring happiness. A Lithuanian traveler said about our engine: she is a tool to open up souls.
I think you are a messenger of the global kundalini rising breda pivk
FULL MOON
There was many sacred doors put I was never pushed through them.
Through the night, I was always feeling free to dive into a vision or not. Once the door was open, the spiral was taking me without return, a strong manifestation, speed, ascending, mysterious and unknown, but fear was unexisting.
Today, we saw one huichol shaman ( marakame) and his student walk in around the tipis, in direction of the sacred door into the rock. I was painting by the amate tree, in full trance.
The shaman came in silence to see the dance of my brushes, the choreography of the colors. His energy was so intense I was feeling almost shy, naked.
Then, he turned and went to stare at one of my painting, the sacred flight of the pelicans, who was hanged on the tipi. He stared at the painting for 15 minutes, without moving: I felt he really dived into my vision to reach the cosmic cycle.
After sunset, they prepared an altar and a fire, and they invited us to join the ceremony: for the full moon, for the sacred door to penetrate the center of planet earth: the center of ourselves.
We walked into the circle with humility: Fernando, wrapped into dark blanket, looked like a wolf with eagle eyes, iridescent , but soft. The shaman was already into a deep trance, almost menacing,
The shaman started to chant, intricate huichol mantras: so delicate and powerful the sound could brake and vanish into the wind, a very strange sound, feminine and masculine, the most profound, the most inviting, haunting, a visual sound, feeding us with vivid images, a sound that gives a direction to your visions. They offered us, further into the night, with warmth and compassion, the sacred medicine, peyote , after a ritual of prayers to the cactus.
We eaten the cactus, and slowly, the sky opened, the moon opened, the giant rock opened, we could reach the center of earth, climb the tree of knowledge and dance with the moon . All words and fears vanished totally. His chants was guiding us into different layers: I felt like a snake, dusty, I was leaving skins behind, layer after layer, words after words, all memories we’re fading, to make place, to receive. I needed to release myself from myself.
And the moon rises above the rocks, naked, raw: the tree becomes a firework, in negative, in perpetual motion, a giant octopus above our heads, protecting us.
Echoes from distant coyotes, echoes from woman making love in tree house.
Visions came by hundreds: one leading to the other one like a waterfall of light, like tides coming and going, like making love all night.
I felt very close to Fernando, protected close to him.
I traveled so deep inside that it will take months to bring back to the surface all the images, all the emotions.
I went to walk around the trees, around the rays of the moon, around the ancestor’s spirits.
Back to the fire, back to the chants of the shaman, who left his human shape long ago to become pure light, animal, spirit.
After a long pause, I always feel his chant coming a few seconds before he starts to chant. I never felt surprised: there was a message into the silence to announce the voice. He was taking me by the hand to climb the sky.
There was no rules, the ceremony was free: I could come and go, follow my intuition, create circles, walk vanish, whisper, dive.
Real confidence allow you to destroy all system, all rules, all schemas, to just follow your own cycle, the movements of the universe.
At one point, I went to the hole in the rock, la puerta; a hole with offerings and candles, objects offered to planet earth by worshippers and travelers, seekers and lovers. Almost into the hole, I was surfing over it to center of planet earth, at full speed, traveling in between the legs of a woman, tacubaya appeared. I started my own chanting, channeling secret sacred tongue. And all images we’re coming like fireworks, like the flight of the albatross, like an orgasm.
A kaleidoscope of gold rays of light. I was dripping paraffin on her body: honey from ancient Egypt, penetrating her: she was smiling, screaming, crying signing, reaching earth, becoming earth, her long hair became black wings, flight of the swan,
A tree emerge from between her legs, a tree with growing leaves, gold. dancing in air.
Everything was so clear, so beautiful, so dangerous, so sharp like a knife: it was visions that I could never come back from: they we’re doors crossed forever.
I pushed the vision as far as the tunnel was still open.
The tree of fertility, invading my sky, all branches around my body, the leaves on my tongue. Eclipse of my visions.
I came back around the fire: with tears in my eyes, with a mission, still feeling the tacubaya tree around me.
The shaman offered us more peyote , new gates are opening, we are traveling deeper. Everything becomes abstract: all visions now are just layers of colors, like a painting in motion
All my visions we’re free of any relation with humanity, with any elements from the modern world.
It was pure energy, pure serenity.
Toward the end, I visited again the door, with Fernando, where we celebrated ghosts, love, friendship , brotherhood and the pleasure to loose control into the other dimension.
In bed, into the tipi, I reached several orgasms, so strong, so vivid, alive, awake, above, in suspension: the most vibrant and long orgasms I ever experienced alone.
XXX