More and more it becomes apparent to me as a psychologist and student of the spiritual that each of us has vast potentials. Quite apart from questions of survival, we have enormous potential to create our identity, our experience of self. But because we are socialized, enculturated into a particular set of beliefs and behaviors, each one of us has been squeezed down to a tiny fraction of that potential. The great tragedy is that we have been conditioned to believe that this tiny fraction is all we are. We live, therefore, in a cramped psychological space, in what Gurdjieff called a "false personality". We think that is who we are, we think that is our personality; but it is false in the sense that it ignores so much of the reality of what could be.

Jessun doubts that most people are genetically equipped to move beyond the broom closet to embrace a more comprehensive worldview. Art seems to be a primary vehicle for helping people to see beyond their boundaries, so we played with ideas for an art installation involving large magnets and iron fillings or small ball bearings. We imagined creating a large-scale version of the common sculptural play-toys that we've seen on desks that can capture any image and hold it in detail. I dreamed of a large metal dome a'la Bucky Fuller, 16-20 ft. tall and equally wide. Magnetized moveable panels, furniture in metal that conform to your shape and can morph into walls or anything at all. The Ultimate in sculptable living space; a nimble ever-shifting snakeskin.

But what would these magnets do to human occupants? Can we turn on the lights of inspiration and AQAL energetic alteration through Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation?


Thursday:
Ah, Sigur Ros, how I love thee. You make the whole world into a beautiful dream.

The kitties and birds come for my crumbs as I sit and write by the water. On the Christian calendar this is Maundy Thursday, the last day Jesus enjoyed the Passover meal with his friends before his grand escape. In the biblical book of Luke, Jesus expressed his profound desire to have this one special meal with his companions as he laid out what has become the Eucharist (commonly known as communion in most Christian churches).

Luke's version of the events of that night includes quite a bit of swordplay as the apostles stepped up to protect their boy. It amazes me just how much violence comes from such deep passion and attachment. I wonder if the Venice Beach apostles would be breakin' ichthus ink on the boardwalk when they promise to fuck Judas up for giving their boy over to the federali.


Friday:
Good Friday indeed.

A deep restlessness sets in, making it difficult to sit still for more than a few minutes. The nipple of knowledge (my DSL cable) is out of order; the world is dead and I am nothing at all but blissful and empty.

My body is uncomfortable, struggling with issues of abandonment. Nothing
flows but the blood in my veins. I pack my bags for <a href=”http://www.madregrande.org”>heaven</a> and take off for the sky.


Saturday:
...


Sunday:
The glorious sunrise over the rocks and caves says everything I could never put into words. Don't need gadgets. Don't need dead skunks half-eaten by vultures. Don't need anything at all but a little sunshine and a smile.

Dr. Charles Tart brings my mind back home:

A major spiritual task in life is to begin to deeply realize how artificially cramped we are, to stop identifying so closely with that limited self, and begin to discover some of our other potentials. The task is to live what I like to call a more ‘spacious’ life....If I'm following a spiritual practice, I can watch the part of me that is so involved in the technical persona. I can ask myself, for example: ‘Am I presenting the ideas in this article in a way that is actually going to be helpful to people? Or have I become intoxicated with technical ideas and intellectual exposition?’ When I open to the spaciousness, however, I can be aware of more points or aspects of who I am.

Fuck ideas. We bust out of our heart's pearly gates, put the fish on the fire and eat it greedily. So much of the pursuit of redemption of spirit comes from seeking the self, often in very physical ways. And why not? We are conditioned to eat, sleep, fuck and play because it makes our bodies feel good. These physical pleasures remind us that there's more to life than death.

Welcome to Venice Beach, where all physical indulgences are encouraged. We celebrate our own barbecued resurrection as the police helicopters circle overhead to catch some unknown assailant. Slick Rick blares from the XM as Dr. Phil's posse offers up some grub to our housing-challenged neighbors from the beach. We watch the golden mango sunset slip back into the ocean once again as we get back into the graceful dance that
has given us this moment of spacious freedom.

And here where the world meets the sky we remember that we are not these bodies, we are not these ink-filled brains. We are roots and branches, waves and sky in communion, sharing a simple supper.