a 136 page document paste, might not be readable unless wordpress keeps all the paragraphs in place

I Made a Joke!

A collection of Poems posted into my FACEBOOK profile notes, and other stories.

By Rebekah

The copyright is owned by a Not-For-Profit propriety limited company, A.C.N. 123 212 671 pty ltd,
Publishing here in Brisbane 2009. 
Cataloguing in Publication details not yet available in this edition, but the ISBN number is: 978-0-9803283-8-7; and if readers send to me, at PO Box 6113, Fairfield Gardens, QLD 4103, less than the recommended quantity of five percent of content edits that need to be made, it will stay the same in the next edition.
That is, just in case you might have already forgotten that, I’ll repeat it:
978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7, 978-0-9803283-8-7,  

If Only OZ Lotto Had Division Eight

I made a joke. But it had nothing to do with the Lotto, and everything to do with the normality of not wanting to need to scratch for a penny. Normally, I am a very serious kind of a person, and don’t often give on that I even get the joke. In fact, normally, most possibly and in all probability, a lot of folk around me seem to be thinking that the joke is on me. However, I was usually there first and simply didn’t find it at all funny. A sitting duck sort of a story, the clown side of myself is. So anyhow, now I’ve done it, I’ve gone and made a joke, on Friday, last week. Friday 26th November 2009, with the whole world dense in the ultimate condensation of the life and times of Michael Jackson (senior). Sort of felt sorry for the poor blighter myself, that is, until I found out he was just another junkie, albeit been made bald by Pepsi. And I just could not help but want to dance my feet away all night to his Boogie, and my joke is the result.

So I made a joke, and then I sat on it a few days, and by this morning, the start of the first new financial year in my life without Michael Jackson senior alive, and after having failed to even notice if my OZ lotto 90 million draw ticket was worth paying for, but worried about why I paid for it rather than for a ticket to see Sean Choolburra last night, I wake up this morning absolutely certain that today is a good day for telling my joke. Should I give it to Sean I wonder, and let him tell it? Is it good enough for a professional comedian? I am nervous, not wanting to pump myself up here as a good joke teller, but I do happen to believe I have a half way decent joke to have made out of the circumstances of Michael Jackson’s life.

But before I tell it, you will have to bear with minding enough of the context of the moments in which the joke came to mind, so as that you may grasp it so neatly as I. Perhaps somebody like Sean will then turn it into the kind of a joke which can be told in a stand up routine, since, so far in my life, I have not been too appropriately dressed for standing up to tell it like it is.

You see I am an Aborigine, but a white one, which is, in and of itself quite a joke, . . . . . . . . but there you have it, and that I am and am it, and just can’t seem to shake the stigma of its absurdity. I even briefly married a man who owns the story of the crow who dropped its black feathers for the swans, so am in no way confounded by lacking comprehension of why being white manifests itself as a joke. We can even stretch this one out further, if I tell that I was inspired as a teenager by Malcom-X, and am, by now, about the only Aussie Mussie Gubborigine on the planet, since that’s a funny way of identifying what I am, whereas saying I am a black power oriented Muslim Aborigine, just somehow doesn’t give the right impression of a white single mother living in the suburbs, even if I am indigenous. I am indigenous enough to know not to get about trying to compete with black sisters over who dreamed up what point of potential future reference first.

But therein lies the greater joke, since, while I am very readily accepted as indigenous by the rather too many Aboriginal men whom were overly curious about me, it’s not official, as in, I don’t have official confirmation of Aboriginality down on paper, and so it is not socially acceptable among organisations like the CIA, to consider me to be an Aborigine. Thus making it be a joke in need of being told inside of the black community as a whole, rather than in my alter ego as an ordinary white Australian, and despite having once convinced a few policemen that an Aborigine in white skin is really an Aboriginal undercover operative.

In fact the whole story is almost as absurd as being white is, and having a family who’ve branded you as their black sheep. So I shan’t mention that I know many others, in both sides of my birth family, have pondered upon the question of whether or not,we may or may not, have any indigenous ancestry, and that the question only ever becomes closed when anybody advocates for self belief in our Aboriginality. If anybody says “well yes, it does seem to be that we have some black ancestors”, then everybody else clams shut on the whole story, and simply says “we can’t have any Aboriginal ancestry, because if we did we’d be straight down the road to get at the handouts”. So when I first started waking up to the real story, after being at the traditional Corroboree at Kurnell in January 1988, I thought to myself that since my mob were already passing as white before such entities as the Aboriginal Protection Board began to exist, we probably don’t qualify for any benefit to be gained out of being officially identified. But at the time, I was in a state which I had defined to me by traditional and Christian Aborigines, as being “convicted by the Holy Ghost”. That is to say, I was being uncontrollably a bit piss weak about life.

Then one day I woke up further, and realised that there is still too much negative stigma being associated with Aboriginal identification, and if families like my own, support the belief that the only benefit in identifying Aboriginality was hand outs, then we were doing the whole of black Australia a massive disservice. So recognising an inner belief in Aboriginality being an enabling self identification practise, (enabling of the conscience that is), I chose to start spilling our family beans, and telling everybody, I am an Aborigine. I was only able to wake myself up out of what the hell was about to become of my life, by believing in my own Aboriginality, and believing in being obliged to follow through in my life, with the obligations instilled in me from having been at the traditional Corroboree for reinstating Kinship at Kurnell in Sydney in 1988. And I did wake up, out of the hell of having got stuck sitting in a bucket of steaming hot water at three years old, and I woke up through many converging roads, not leading me to Rome so much as into the certainty of an initiate into the world’s real secret traditions. Truth is, I had to find evidence of those same secret traditions existing within every branch of my ancestry before I could silence all the white fellow’s delusions in me, an Aboriginal Australian, since Australia is no man’s land if not black man’s, and the white delusions are just too truly damn evil. True too, that I was a bit piss weak at the job, that is, until old enough to be already taking every consequence more seriously that a young person can.

So older now, and I tell you, I am an Aborigine with a joke to tell. And it’s joke with a context too. Eventually one day, after I told my mother that all that’s wrong with my head is that my English words sometimes go through my mind in the sentence structures of Aboriginal languages, which might be because I am right and she is wrong about our ancestry, and she decided she wanted to brand me with insanity, I brought home a black man to meet my father. Dad wasn’t home, and Mum was drunk, and this was where all my problems started. As it turned out, Mum knew somebody who’d been a school teacher at the primary school local to the Mish where my new Aboriginal boyfriend had grown up, and she knew so much dirt about his community, that the whole episode of him meeting her, just amounted to proving to Mum that she had been right all along about me being a dog. You see, my parents seem to have been fighting for years and years about me, and about whether or not I was the dog, or my wether my sister had been. Somehow they had known that only one of their daughters was for real, but could not agree on which one of us, while I am still silent about all my sister’s errors, except those I feigned as my own, to get me out of a tight spot, like herpes for example. For one thing my new boyfriend, had seen a picture of me and my younger sister in which she looked older than me, and for another thing, my boyfriend, who was supposed to be looking around to find out how to get me married up proper to him, was only confirming a false rumour about me that had spread to my mother from down at the old ant-ridden tent embassy. He was only twenty two and had already spent five years in all bar two of NSW’s prison facilities, and was very certain that he had absolute property rights to me as a betrothed wife, but feeling slightly uncomfortable in my parents nice middle class white suburban home with my drunk mother knowing about where he grew up, and not telling him. Meanwhile, I was, at his behest, on the phone to my ex-drug dealer of a brother, asking for a favour on behalf of my new boyfriend and his mate, and so I missed the final conclusion to what was being communicated in the situation, however, this is the situation which caused many further, even more disturbing, but no less absurd, events and situations to arise, and which I have subsequently never failed to observe with hair splitting accuracy in consequence. However, this is all so far removed from the joke I made, that perhaps you may need to know more of the story.

Well, you see, I have been becoming an unwilling, though not unwitting, Queenslander these past few years, since 2003. In fact, in 2003, the same year that Michael Jackson was accused in court of paedophilia, the exact same thing happened to me. My children were staying with their Irish father, who was up here in Queensland living with his long term mistress, the nurse, who he ran away to when I refused to have him back again, after locating him enjoying yet another binge drinking session with junkies, four years before, but the children had only been with him a few months, which had enabled me to meet another fellow for the first time. Trust me to get landed by somebody who already had another prison sentence up his sleeve, and mutually amicable relations did not last until that last week in May, with Sorry day in it, when my Nana died, I miscarried a deformed 17 week gestation foetus, and the Irishman stole my children. All in one week, it was a total outrage! And I began to understand. Understand the slow pace of recovery, the need for fully comprehensive reconciliation if it is ever going to happen at all, and even understand the reason why my family, and other’s like ours, of decent white people who quite likely have never doubted that we are just as indigenous as any black family could be, want to let every social benefit connected with having a positive indigenous identify, be available to the families who have never passed as white to escape being identifiable for being Aborigines. A dual edged blade of needing to face your fear in one’s own father’s errors. I began to understand that when Aboriginal Australians are standing up and talking political for social justice, it is not about wanting to be political, but about having no option left but to scream of injustice. But what was I understanding? That white families are refusing to identify because we don’t want our children taken? Or that black men who’ve been in prison are terrified of being falsely branded as a paedophile. My childhood, of a nice white family, my own biological parents, raising me up like their own pet black dog, pales in comparison to childhood which culminated in a prison sentence with bashings and rapes and constant threats of being falsely branded as a paedophile, just because of having smaller genitals than many.

Fortunately the Irishman’s long term mistress, whose mortgage he is paying now after running out on me when my father had just committed to helping us afford a mortgage together, had a childcare qualification, and so I knew she was hardly likely to be up for negligence. But I had my concerns about her attitudes, since she fancied herself as having some bizarre social advantage in being a victim of rape in childhood. She fancied the same about my children’s father, and I was spare with fury that they had portrayed me, to my children’s school, and to the local police, as though a child rapist. The reason they gave for their concerns was that a mental health condition (apparently of imagining oneself to be Aboriginal), put together with a relationship with a Mission boy, was tantamount to a declaration of intent to cause harm to my white children. It is all on paper in Queensland Family Court records. My parents, were very unimpressed with the housing situation, and supposed me to be, by now, well defined as a total dog, therefore my children to also be inevitably becoming sons of bitches, decided to support the children’s father in his court case against me, but without ever knowing the full set of allegations made against me, and just so as somebody else would buy all the footy boots. Dad would not talk about it, and when I told Mum what I’d been accused of, she said “that is bullshit Rebekah, nobody is accusing you of being a paedophile, that is just your delusion of imagining yourself to be Aboriginal”. Mum and Did simply never read all the pieces of paper. I expect their problem is just that white people’s eyes get tired of looking too quickly.

In the end, when the trial happened five years later, just last year in 2008, it was my children who had saved the day. One of the boys told me that he had found a story in the Bible, about two women fighting over a baby, who were taken to court. He told me, it was King Solomon’s court, and King Solomon decided. He said to chop the baby in half. Then, the real mother backed down, saying that the other mother can have the baby, and that is how King Solomon knew who the real mother is. Then, my oldest son, succeeded in getting himself kicked out of his father’s house two weeks before the trial, so by the time trial happened, my own record was already vindicated, and I did not need to waste precious court time by arguing my story to the hilt. Instead, because the family law act cannot allow for children to be removed from one parent who they’ve already been settled with for the whole five year period of a court case, we agreed out of court, to removing the need for my access to be supervised, and enabling more access, but my children’s father, and wicked step mother, could not help themselves but run one last argument past the judge. They asked if the order can exclude me from being allowed to take up canteen duty, and other normal white middle class parent involvement in my children’s schools, just as the interim orders had. They pleaded the case on behalf of their other younger child who attends the same primary school as my youngest son. They were duly laughed out of court, on the back of me establishing with the judge, that it is perfectly sane for me to have attempted to subpoena my ASIO files. But the point about this court case, is in its strange parallel with the accusation, and eventual vindication, of Mr Michael Jackson senior, of course.

Once, a young black girl told me that she is related to Steven Irwin, and after validating with her Aunty, that it is a real blood relationship, I wrote to the Irwin family, and advised Steve-o of my predicament, explaining that somebody so trapped into poverty as myself, could hardly afford to have been the first white lost generation child to advocate for all of us identifying, could I, whereas somebody like him, could chose his moment and identify his Aboriginal heritage in a way appropriately enabling for many disadvantaged Aboriginal people. Well, I did not get a response, not, that is, until Mr Irwin’s death, when I had four nights of underwater dreams teaching him about Islam, of all things. Who’d have though the filthy rich bugger could have had any interest, although I guess that there might have been a bit of Muslim money mixed up with all that cash coming out of America. Whatever the Irwin story was however, the point is that I had by no means been silent about my predicament, and always perceived it to be a predicament which equitably belongs to every one of us white Australians with Aboriginal heritage whom have ignored what it needed to sustain us in culture. However, despite my best efforts to expose the truth, silent my story was being made. Silenced most of all, by the fact that it was all unfolding here in the state of Queensland.

When I arrived here in Queensland, on advice from NSW legal aid funded lawyers, I was a little surprised at how early in proceedings lawyers seem to imagine to be able decide outcomes between themselves, and did not get any legal aid to fund my case, based on the assumption that paedophile never win anyhow. I assumed the role allocated me, as a mad fanatic running their own legal proceedings without the blessings of the legal establishment. A mad fanatic white and unidentified Aborigine, I mean really, what sort of a chance have my children had? Never mind that ASIO were policing me within the special Aboriginal clauses in the Anti-Terrorist legislation, Mr Rudd got elected and put at stop to that.

In Queensland, I started to notice odd things, like how the folk who stand on the corners of city streets, calling out for monetary donations to charity, sound like they are selling the disease they propose to cure with the funds you might give them. “Motor Neurone Disease, Motor Neurone Disease,” all Brisbanites, (or Brisbaners, as my children call us all by now), have heard the calling to buy in on disabling nervous system disease. Within a couple of years of being here I learned that Queenslanders give less per capita to charity than folk in every other state of Australia do, and after a few bizarre run ins with a few of the sort of folk who like to impose false branding with paedophilia on top of any vulnerable and single mother, not to mention meeting a few local prostitutes who either had children only to earn more at their trade since selling motherhood is a bigger earner than selling youth, or who had been tricked into an unwanted pregnancy with a failed termination and false reports to the department of child safety, just so as a pimp could buy more drugs by selling his girlfriend as a bad mother, and I could stop worrying too much about how my own sanity was surviving.

All in all, what I want to impress upon you here, before you read my joke, is that a good joke like this, doesn’t just spring upon us all out of nowhere. Some jokes, and those of us whom the joke is on, have worked bloody hard to be there before anybody else gets it.

A joke is like a good dream, nobody gets it who has not earned it, because if you do, then it’s just going to have to fall on you. I grew up very serious, in being convicted by the Holy Spirit since infancy, on through well into my early thirties, before any real recovery commenced. I remember Mum and Dad telling me that joke about the newspaper, “what is black and white and re(a)d all over?”, and I always politely chuckled, but never got it until I was adolescent. I didn’t get adolescent humour until already in my thirties with three children, a black-ex-con-ex-, and a hell of a court case to bungle my way through. Never mind having too long been piss weak, it was all just too easy, life, really not much real to worry about, except looking after the children, who gladly never let me forget it. Growing up with a set of prolapsed internal and external diaphragms, which have taken all of the past seven years to repair, is it any wonder my family had me confused with the dogs? And is it any wondered my mother was afraid of me running out bush with the black fellows? Every part of any cultural value I learned was sort of incidental and the whole of my existence felt accidental enough that I never even noticed much what was wrong with me much. Not except for the stress incontinence that is. I sort of “gathered” what was going on in the world, rather than having any clue about how folk hunt down what they need, and along the way I even managed to acquire a few good habits, despite not receiving any of my father’s dreams he gave me. Whatever else was and was not real, I grew up well loved enough to be very precise in all my observations of people, and especially in observations of body language and vocal intonation, so when I started to dream again, . . . , . . . well what I dream is three things, I dream the nightmare of my own delusions, jokes, and real life, and nothing in between. Possibly only because I never bothered with wanting to work for all that stuffing in between real dreams about reality, and real living reality.
But no joke, before, it was all no jokes, no dreams, nothing real bar childbirth, and that was my whole life outside of a suspicion that I might really be an Aborigine. So when those muscles started working, and I knew that it wasn’t too easy at all, but just hard, cold, and dogged, and uptight, but well loved by one or two black men, and in light of how it all started working for me again, the experience of life feels nothing short of an everyday miracle, and therefore, I rarely complain.

In fact, just the other day, I felt myself wanting to start the sort of complaint which begins “does my bum look big in this”, but since the elder of my two teenage sons was the only person present, I refrained, and submitted myself to the essential knowledge that arse cramps are the only way it ain’t going to be looking too big. I’ll tell you, it’s been an effort to get all my body’s systems working well enough for the traditionally oriented communities who know me, to consider me to have enough sensitivity to be a good mother, but well worth it, to be able to dutifully report that I feel what side of my body is ovulating, and so the fellow who marries me will have no fear of what gender spirit baby to call into me when he becomes a father. I wonder if whoever it is, will be who can tell me why, this time last week and for a few weeks before, my body had been gradually becoming achier and achier and achier, but that now, this morning, I wake up and find that I am able to rid myself of lactic acid at a much faster rate than any other day of my whole life, but, that in consequence, my arse is cramping while I sit down to write. True to God, in early morning Yoga session today, I counted well past where I normally have to stop before I could even feel any pain from strengthening exercises. I know myself well enough to know that this is not an increase of endorphins, although the lower back pain is much less than normal also, but this really is just a faster removal of lactic acid I am experiencing here this morning, coinciding strangely with wanting to be funny. I have to add that I watched Circus OZ on TV last night, and understand now why clowns are also acrobats.

So about one week before Mr Michael Jackson senior passed away, I presume from a fatal drug overdose, (but be careful of my presumption while awaiting the results of the autopsy, since the combination of opiates like pethidine, and steroids for getting into shape, sounds suspiciously like what was on sale down in Canberra when and where I last saw that Mission husband who never married me, but we may never know), I started seeing a strange clownish Michael Jackson type face, in a fully colourful dream, poking his tongue out me and laughing, and I am lying there asleep dreaming, thinking it is a new husband being lined up to get me and marry me, but he was in a cruel comedians mask for some unknown reason. Eventually, later in the week, I was walking into do my hard fought for gain of primary school canteen duty, ten minutes late, when I heard the news that Michael Jackson has died. The canteen lady wants to change the channel so we all don’t have to hear it all day, and then, after the canteen is closed, and I have a look at the internet, I see that some of my facebook friends are as interested as I am in the situation. I have another dream, and another, and wonder if it could have been true that Michael Jackson was reputed to be the most down to earth of all those with the key to Hollywood.

Then wondering if it is the same key they use in Bollywood, on Saturday, a Sri Lankan student asks me to be in a music video clip he proposes to make, and I wonder if he is a policeman, and I see a black fellow I know playing music at the markets, and write him a poem, called “For the Cat who Got the Cream”, like this it goes:
Don’t blame them on
The sunshine
Don’t blame either
Moonlight
We were too good a fight
To have locked up tight
But love the children right
For life
Needed not the blight
Of fading colour
Nor reshaped pictures
In our sight

I write another, and another, which is not too unusual for me if I have some unwieldy emotions to process, and then I remember another I wrote from the night before, which might seem funny to some, and still isn’t quite the whole joke, but a joke nonetheless. This is a poem that I wasn’t sure of if it was provoked or inspired by Michael Jackson, but even less sure if it was provoked or inspired by a Wiradjuri dream I got stuck in once or twice, and so I wondered if more normal languages than English could ever be, have the same word for both provoke and inspire, and then I called my poem:

Prevent One Word Becoming Two
(with a subtitle of “a way to through”, for just in case you weren’t taking it seriously enough)

In stakes of late
With foregone bitten hate
There’s been a few bogeys
Up my own nose which
With Boogie were being confused
And what the world upon mused
While walking corpses made circles
Of cultureless fruit
Yet being sustained
By heaven’s food
Have we danced delighted
Unreconciled rude
And ill minded too
Awaiting the place
And the time
For all cultures to regain sound mind
In locking away benign
Such as was being opened
Pandora’s folk know it
When just one secret error
Had Boogie with a bogie confused
For their is just such an error
Which to countenance is never
And best lost forever its shoe
Be no longer too blue
But forever and again
Under-estimate what the error
Has been when by sin
Had imagined what is
But over-estimating the expense
Upon one’s own self
Best this rest
When no tomorrow will do
Today is the way we go through

But the real tell-able joke did not compile itself within me until a little later that evening, after writing the above poem. First I had to fully register my own inner complaint against anybody ever having enabled anybody else to so much as presume that such terrors as any form of child abuse could ever even have existed, and then fear my own preponderance of it and why I felt any need to express it, and then remember that the way to finish any profiting in any particular of the unholy sorts of money tricks which turn individual men into funky prancing idiots, and the rest of us into their scapegoats, is to expose it as all dried up. Oh yeah, I remember, there is that reason for telling, it’s a good old reason that one, despite being quite frightening if timely. But a joke when funny.

So in between having earned my way into a few good jokes and dreams, jokes on dreams, and dreams on jokes, I was practising keeping my glutinous maximum’s muscle tight, so as not to need to ask anybody if my bum looks big, when I thought of this:

Q: What was the difference between Steve Irwin and Michael Jackson?
A: Confusing Crocs of Gold, with Gilded edged Fans.

Then I improved it:

Q: What is the difference between Croc(k)s of Gold and Gilded edged Fans?
A: Same difference between dead wildlife hunters and dead pop idols.

What a joy it is to write that after my teenage years spent frowning about other teenagers saying “same difference”, because I was so sure that it was not actually the exact same difference, but that the measure was indeed a subtraction which did not result in zero. It might result in a negative number, rather than a positive, but definitely not zero.

Didn’t we always know
Best never say so
Didn’t we also though
Let money have been so
That no money more
Be these words for
Thus never blamed cause
Despite every delusion against
Which held no account yet
For how many to realise
Is the account longest already been
So no surprise belongs here
For the feat never mean
Neither obscene
But well been
Clean

“don’ blame it on the sunshine,
don’ blame it on the moonlight,
don’ blame it on the good times,
blame it on the . . .

. . . ayi jus can’t, ayi jus can’t, ayi jus can’t control my FEET”

But now I have written it all down, I wondered what to call these words I have written, and was just about to settle upon “one hard earned joke”, when something that made me angry came into my head, and it became “one hard earned joke, well turned in the shower, on the day my backside went to a town called Bugalug, of bum thief fame”, and I had one of those all too serious déjà vu type feelings, like being out of the frying pan and into the fire, and just am relieved to report that there are no more buckets of steaming hot water to fall into, just dumb jokes about folk been cooking ice and why the chiefs who reckon they have it over all the good cooks are deluded.

But lucky for psychology drop outs like me, the Irish, have a good story to fix that, even if this specific version is from another author who is not one of my own ancestors, so thanking what’s’isname who wrote “Angela’s Ashes”, not to mention whoever wrote “The Bugalug’s Bum Thieves”, and neither forgetting all the Michael Jackson’s whose copyright owned words I have quoted from above, it is a story about the woman who baked and baked and baked, every so often, just before visiting the funny farm.

Here I go possibly wrecking carnage and mayhem over the whole joke now, as per usual for us serious types of folk who just have to go and take the joke so far it ain’t funny. The eventual title of this writing, came out of me later this morning, but not until after pondering a bit of footage showing James Brown, Michael Jackson, and Prince, all on stage together. Prince is clearly the weirdest, and knowing that James Brown was convicted for rape, I still don’t hesitate to dismiss both Michael Jackson, and Prince, as two funksters less funky than Mr Brown. And so, being interminably curious about my own psychology, I wonder what obstacle to watching that bit of footage, my mind is steering itself obliquely around, so as not to have to bear witness. So my pretty white girl brain is ticking through this funky scenario, “Hmm, what have we, a convicted rapist and wife basher, a short guy with a large ego and house full of big boobed chickadees, (mind goes “she don’ like, she don’ like, she don’ like, durnah durnah nah nah naaah nah”) (“chick–at–ease ?? chick add E’s ?? umm, oops, now where was I, oh yeah, what in common between the three funky sets of knees, I am wondering”) (and thinking of, have you ever asked Chicka Dixson what’s in a Chicko Roll), and a down to earth, funk ridden into permanent youth, magnet for false accusations of paedophilia.” Hmmm. But this is the thing, Prince, is clearly feeling intimidated on stage by Michael Jackson’s presence, about as much as gay men feel intimidated by the avowedly heterosexual, and nobody seems to intimidate James Brown in the slightest, yet Michael Jackson is who shows most deference to the female vocalist on stage. The problem is, that I suspect myself of still preferring the idea of the rapist, but just couldn’t ever bring my self to condone the domestic violence. Not as a mother of white boys, it was just never going to be that a black man could be put at any risk of hitting me. And so everybody just been having to make do with my stories as they are, both those made up about me, and those I weave around me in deference to nobody, and to all the Mr Nobody’s out there in lala land, who seem capable of ensuring my wreckages and carnage laden way, are not too bad.

What is more, I will add here now, I might have succeeded in ensuring that I never need fear money again. You see, since I have no husband, and my family demanded of the Irishman that he take his financial obligations to his sons seriously, at which he insisted upon gaining custody by hook or crook, but in such a way as that I could hardly obtain money by any method whatsoever, without the whole nightmare of penny’s from some dank strange heaven, where every dream with real money in it, also has an assault upon one of my own children in it, seeming to cause the nightmare to all fall entirely upon me, but, I worried, potentially upon other, much younger unmarried individuals, such as children, and in which fear I normally just swallowed re-committing myself into a life story in which nothing I do can cause any dream in which a child of mine is ever harmed, and well, this does not explain having no fear at all really, does it, but it is an explanation of what commitment to a goal is. But well, what a relief it is that there is no division eight in OZ Lotto, because otherwise I might have won all of something like less than seven dollars, which might or might not have had the death of Farrah Fawcet riding on it, all just for the sake of the sort of bets on betterment which money can buy. I never need fear money, since I plan never to have any more than I get given, because by now, any way I have ever had of obtaining viable cents, has already long been accused with having been wanting to get rich by letting myself become framed as a paedophile, as though I had set out with that goal in mind, when I first identified my Aboriginality, although in fact I did everything possible to avoid just that. I am also in no fear of money, since I am never likely to have enough to save any, because no bloke in his right mind, could concern himself with the content of my story, and keep on believing in himself. It’s all just been one frightening coincidence after another, after another, after another, too many times now for just about anybody to bear with, that is, not unless . . . . . . anybody ever met a spare husband with a delusion of having once believed in Farrah Fawcet? But don’t ask who Charlie is because I am not telling.

Hope you all enjoy reading the poems which fill the rest of this booklet, because I am going to go out tonight, the first day of the first financial year of my life without having to share this world with Michael Jackson, and I am going to dance, and dance, until I turn into one of those stone brolgas in the botanic gardens, if I have to, or not, as the case maybe.
 
2009, June 5th in 1,000,000 PEOPLE 4 ABORIGINAL LAND RIGHTS facebook group pages

Are you mob thinking of your generation “this generation”, same like I am, same as how the mainstream culture calls it a “Y” generation???

I am already forty, and feel always like I had those “Y-generation” patterns in me, rather than X-generation, and my parents, although they were born just after WW2, are more like X-generation than like most Baby Boomers. Even most of the friends I have in my own age group, are more likely to be Baby Boomers, (more like my grandparents), than X-generation type folk. True there are different ways of thinking that happen in generations. I reckon that the “Y-generation” is the one struggling hardest to comprehend about how all humanity wound up with the Earth’s environment like it is now. Feels like X-generation just went along with the idea that somebody owes and had better start paying up now, but then nobody paid, and they kept on demanding to be paid, so now Y-generations are going “well, somebody is going to have to pay, so I don’t want to be super rich or nothing”.

My answer to the first question is that I never could believe that anybody was doing enough to prevent racism, and enough to sustain real culture, and so one day, I had to come to terms with what I am able to do now as just me, one person, alone; and that is how I started to make a difference. I have faith in this generation, I think we can do it. I think that eventually enough Y-generation younger people will learn to want to do the hard work that social change demands of us, and that it will be that social change, the emancipation of indigenous culture and people, which saves the Earth.

But first maybe we have to face the fact that, while we need to listen to older generations, and be very respectful of all the hard work gone before us, older people can’t do what will be our work, and we have to find our way through this society, and into learning to love to work for reinstating Aboriginal culture and social status, all by ourselves.

I am only just old enough to remember how older generations fought for the emancipation of Aboriginal Australia, and how everybody was organised when I was younger, is different to now. We have to find our own ways. Learn to find some extra motivation for whatever you are passionate about, by just making an extra effort with everything you do. Always just one little bit extra bit of work, and it forms a good habit in you of perseverance, and while you are still young, forming good habits is more important than knowing the answers.

Posted into facebook at June 29th 2009:

Good

Good thing I did
What the internet is
Albeit the default of
Some other yoke I have
And done without
It needing to
Be observed by you
You or you
For enough receptivity to
Be sure I will prove
It meaningless to
Attempt to remove
Me from registering through
For like as not
The keys I got
That cops need not
Observe my lot
And Aboriginal Australians thereby
Better off

For That Cat Who Got the Cream

Don’t blame them on
The sunshine
Don’t blame either
Moonlight
We were too good a fight
To have locked up tight
But love the children right
For life
Needed not the blight
Of fading colour
Nor reshaped pictures
In our sight
So remember best
She’ll be right
Tonight

There will be a few poems I wrote over the past few weeks, which I would like to have been able to put here, but simply cannot, yet but make mention of there being even more context.

What happens when
In your consternation
You realise that then
You had the perception
Of your own consequences
As being a lot more than
Most folk can mind
As sane of kind
And yet all the while
The consequence is
Of what about this bind
Will combine
Its retribution
With those who defined
Your first sane sound lines
As their own insane lives
And as having been done by
That your best sanity find
Was being stripped of its life
For naught but ant bites
Yet in the seeming insanity
Of what might just ants be
So find they can release your mind
Into its real concern for life
When wary you’ve been made to be
For if you don’t get why
How could I
Thus by
Conscience alone
Of feeling at bone
Intuitions let own
What in reality mind
Is sanity’s right
To define
Sane mind
Letting no reason why
Whatever consequence might
Have brought fear to life
Beyond what is right
By feeling defined
I am not mine but myself I own and am me

(jacko provoked and wiradjuri inspired, or was it Jacko inspired and Wiradjuri provoked, a poem pasted into a facebook profile note Friday June 26th 2009, at 6:17 pm)

Prevent One Word Becoming Two: a way to through

In stakes of late
With foregone bitten hate
There’s been a few bogeys
Up my own nose which
With Boogie confused
What the world upon mused
While walking corpses made circles
Of cultureless fruit
Yet being sustained
By heaven’s food
Have we danced delighted
Unreconciled rude
And ill minded too
Awaiting the place
And the time
For all cultures to regain sound mind
In locking away benign
Such as was being opened
Pandora’s folk know it
When just one secret error
Had boogie with a bogey confused
For there is just such an error
Which to countenance is never
And best lost forever its shoe
Be not longer too blue
But forever and again
Under-estimate what the error
Has been when by sin
But over-estimate the expense
Upon one’s own self best this rest
When no tomorrow will do
Today’s is the way we go through

(earlier on Friday 26th June – 2:40 pm)

Filaments of History

Between filaments of imagination
And figments in pigmentation
Of light bulbs that fluoresce
With nothing new at all
But that all stories of old
Have been burdened again to be told
Yet in bearing their fruit
Of such burdens been rolled
Will ever again new stories unfold
In the shadows we knew
Each story we had to
Settle the score for
To birth how life does renew
Itself in the combinations
And permutations of
All sorts of fragments
And facets unto
Even such stuff as light bulb’s few
Moments in history to undo

Pauper’s Shoe

Since I’ve been poor
In respect of
Money’s doors
You may not yet see
What my worth will be
Since what money is for
Finds its end in me
Might nobody score
By blaming me

In my own immaculate economy
Of not supposing any real need
For very much money to believe
There is a thing or two
More than any of you
Laden with money could do
Of money’s cause
Was what I knew
Incorporated of course
And finding here
In anybody’s belief
The account to be steep
By blaming me
Those who have access
To money’s way to defeat
The fact of having it
Will meet my belief
In accountability never cheap

So with me
Dreaming alike
To the richest and tight
Yet a poor girl to their spite
Will they meet their maker with me alright
In the account of how
They did my might
And thus through their money
They’ll bear every fright
While I dream clean tonight

And in the grindstones
Of police minded thrones
Now and long my own
Naught but some pretty
Stepping stones
So to be sure
Will I stay poor
Rather than need
Police protection for property
Since ground stone was
All their worth be

Yet they’ll love me well
Those with money’s fame to sell
For in this here wealth
My poverty to tell
Why no money in it to dwell
My every spell
Stronger because
Dreaming their’s was
Enabling me
As their money’s truth
Sought ever to refute
The real world lived out
And money poems about

So when upon a shoe
Once known I tell you
Fit whose foot well though
Will living within the means
Of what Earth provides us
Without losing count of
How much we each cost
Just have to
For everyone
Be enough
I do

The Game

The game
To my fame
But best not name
Has ever been tame
Let ever long no shame
In being lead
Well obedience tell
That authority will
This swell
Almighty worth in shells
Best left in to sell
Me well
Strung puppets to fell
Who hold their own strings
Upon who is willing
To learn the spell
And feign benign lines
Of who is master in time
For with which the sting
Has been sewn fine
Indiscernible in rhyme

That imagined on me
My old Dad did bleed
But will we ever have need
Not likely indeed
Yet my meals are clean
By such ideals believed
As in those who imagined
I’ll best not devalue
The economy’s worth unto

Different yet the same
Be the name of my game
So hearken to how
I’ve the longer it tamed
For nobody’s books blamed
Neither any lesson not maimed
By money never plain
But traded in upon how
Culture is retained

So in lack of money no shame
For our work the more real thus
The future be ours
In more than just name

(Tuesday 23rd June)

Given

If I don’t
Then he wins
But of what
Can he have
Won that
Without any love
In bodily facts of
The story understood
As to what he took
From me that
Every day
I’m tempted astray
For I could if he’ll not
Love me well enough today
Win my own way
But for his cause
Will hell have no play
And thus a wish I have for
The self discipline to stay
Beholden every minute of the day
With what Jesus did say
Sure as a Muslim
Is heaven’s way
That I won’t
But bless him
When he finds not to win
Need never to a woman give in

Too Late Doll

Whom was it I hold
Between the knees of my Soul
Through pins in their vudu doll
They made in my mould
My hair used so bold
Yet never as I
Have my truth told
For their efforts only stole
The lies my enemies ropes
Have never yet tied
Unto my throat
The same lies they had time
To command to my mind
But as for I
Never to their danger complied
Yet taking it in all the time
Was it true that they tried
To accuse my reasoning why
With being too late to find
They’d forced me into the bind
Of being too late in their minds
To catch them at their crimes
And so do I
Sure as they have tried
Control my mind
Fling back their tries
Yet of what animal’s mind
Could I
Have turned their dolls
Upon my life
Into what makes
Their own bind worst
Their fall so terse
Their hands my verse
Dolls of kind
I’ll venture like
My own kinds of binds
Will animal nature
Take their time
Those who’d tried
Turn my life
Into a doll too late
Their business lines
Defeated by
Rhyme

Sorry Been

What was sorry for
When I heard its call
What never yet brought
Another into my bed
Was for naught
But as I’d been taught
Obediently was caught
Yet small need for
His sorry not poor
When in belated anticipation
Another preyed upon our nation
And found the ground red
With will that was spent
Upon not what we meant
And nation’s dictations
To loose the lot when
What by sorrow been paid
Long laid us all in his grave
So when
All the men
So sorry then
Best not feed their minds fen
But love will the truth send

(Monday 22nd June)

Next

Wondered what to do
About a friend who never knew
That the internet has dreams
Which might always seem
Somewhat impossible
Yet at times become true
Though it’s not usual
Nor neither when wet
But when will is through
What it is we are willing to get
Might well be what comes next
And might even usually too
If only we can be ready to
The real world most accurately
Represent
So let me be a friend to you
For all that there is
Within these keys
We dream
I am willing to
Yet never without
Following through

(Thursday 18th June)

An Un-named, Un-doing Poem

Give him a ring to
He asked me but who
And these words blue
Not what originally did do
Was the fellow not true
Of the context through
An opalized bone was who
The crocodile had turned into
But for myself alive
Have navigated his fright
By having already landed
In an Ants nest twice
That I learned well true
What he’d done unto
The medicines and whose
Mind his wife
Was bequeathing herself into
Whenever a ring they did
The opalized bone through
He received from a father who
Built upon his nails into
Yet as for all four
Twists of hate wrenched through
The word ring he’d sing if he had to
Not one to my door
Nor
The many bent
Word endings they rent
As though able to
Survive by blaming who
Says what words end with
An “E”, “R”, and “ING” too
For what the word stem can mean to
Their desire to steal from our fruit
So beware through
The union jack’s shoe
Showing a count about
How many and blue
Possible contexts they do
Twist their words into
For giving a ring did not
In my own vocalisation’s rot
Have any intention of
Or wish even in correlation
To convey the meanings
Another heard of
As rings being things
Our body has in
Sphincter’s of muscles that bring
Contractions strong action
The inevitability facts of
Being bound in consequences true
For alike the Bora ring
And every lesson that is
Of circles and meanings
Line crossing and reason
Responsibility for treason
And one true meaning
Ever uncrossed my season
I’ve encountered from
The Behemoth’s horror
Attempts to disgrace
Any child in fate
By every ring the plate
Of evil suspicions sought
The non-existent gate
So when you are
Remembering and far
Remember true
Your memories belong to you
And contexts that swim
With meanings unreal may bring
Ant ridden stings through
Every intention true
Yet now feather embossed
The shoe
Of bee stung leather will you
For when English words sing
With altered meaning
From what a dictionary strings
The one real meaning is
That between the act
Of speech
And what is spoken about
There are yet Ant stings to navigate out
And in this the Ant’s pride
Found out
We’ve the Queen of Sheba onside now to tout
So long as
My message brings
Well home the sting
That of words and meaning
Well might we fear to ring
For by Solomon’s seal not poor
We all are beholden for
Our mind’s perceptions forced
As well as what breath expressed and wore
Even when intention’s door
Another idea in law
Yet in one true ring no fear at all
So bring remembering my word strings
Into your every ring
For the crocodile poor
Who ate me knows no door
And binding these
Is one true Dreaming free
From every political meaning
It be

Representation

Will that the string
Of what money will bring
Gets the right part
In all our remembering
For as may Art
Be representing
What is represented be
Representative of reality

My

I complain and complain
And then yet I
Wind up needing
To comply
So in between
Why I comply
And the refrain
Of how I complain
Might we all wonder why
I am yet true to my

(Wednesday 17th June)

Blue Words be Pride’s Shoe

What happens when
You turn a story on its head
In the minds of who in time
Need their story read
By whose authority sublime
Will never order why
But yet question then
What happens when
A story on its head
For liars to accept
Was also being debunked as
The two methods used
To make the story walk its shoes
Were each counting out the other
Such that nothing yet discovered
But when every effort yet
Was for that story’s best
It must be that we knew
Not to know why we have not to
Yet just because it was not you
Will not mean your neighbour was
Who did do
Lord almighty
The sky be
Blue

(Tuesday 16th June, at 1:11 pm, but written 19th June 2008)

turning on a knife point
all accusations blunt against
this my true case
and heart’s real cause in
The fact of why real money is
and that every child needs providence
without being against
what sustains life best

So let it not be that when
I accept my own end
Is to cause that of another
Of whom I discovered
Their ill be the bind
Of why any ever mistook the time
That another alike
Can find
That as like it was my own
For them to blame just so
Thus making them also
The cause of my end
In my cause to end of
That strange game they play from
For its eventual end will we all
Win and well in fall
Never below my cause

(these following posted 16th June at 11:44 am)

What Door?

Either fortunate for us all
Or unfortunately sharing his fall
He has done unto me my wall
Of all I am in his cause
The best and the worst in true law
He did that in Spirit I am tall
Yet then did that in body am naught
But the reflection of his own fall
Down into the depths of
Having nothing at all left from
In which to recognise my door

Is?

Reflector wished her
Resistor no sister
But neither transistors
Were not what by nobody
He missed her
Without yet ever
Having kissed

A Husband’s Strife From One True Wife

Just for one night
It could happen that you might
Reconcile completely
Your own story with me
In full accountability
And absolute for me
For you’ll not travel right
In the rest of your life
Continuing your current trajectory
Since one night of my fright
Well I tell might
Be all you evermore receive
Of me
Unless by you
I am never grieved

(11:32 am)

How Who

How would it feel
To be the migaloo girl
Friend of the boy
Who in one moment real
Found how to bind
That worthy Sorry line
To solutions of intervention find
Then he failed to believe
Whom could it have been
Who gave him that Dream
And so got drunk
Met his fate in her migaloo kind
Then paraded his mind
As though with pride
For having a girl
Yet when she’s who
Was blaming the Dream
Of real solutions we breath
Only so as to
Have him tricked into
Imagining it could have been her the migaloo
Who
Could solve what he believed
As the best possible dreams
So how could she feel
That migaloo girl who
Might if she’d a mind to
Have blamed the right girl who
The true story knew
Only to find
Herself his girl a migaloo
Who tricked him into
Imagining the right girl
All negative emotions of unto
Until upon his pride
Of wanting to have chosen right
Though too drunk to mind
He did make an effort to prove
Himself having done right
Yet all he thereby proved
Was no solution through
Except for who refutes
So how would it feel if you
That migaloo
Who prevented his dream
By claiming not to
Might be his way into
Realising his fears real will you
Wear that coat a moment since somebody had to
Prove
His truth
Was it his pride to have had to make do
Or mine to suppose he’d see through
Fashion’s repose into
The ropes and strings of how
Dreams are woven around
This my fingers type about
Be at his demand in bright
Morning sunlight
For to who
Is sure of what
True is wanted
Without ever anyone dead
Is who can take in the cat fight
Like water off a duck’s back alright
For upon the wrong
Of a Queenslander pong
Will the truth ever long
His way our song

(next from Sunday 14th June)(context a bit oblique but less intangible than other words have been today, is what my comments say)

To Belong

The truth of my story
I could tell out but poorly
Is of whose waters
Futures are with blessed
For us all to countenance
Let us remember thus
That water which is
Of his best love
Is a tap turned off
Until his marriage is of
For it was for what
His waters did not
And of my own lot
His life is being washed
So let him be strong on
Realisation this of
He’ll not access his from
Yet neither my own
Nor any more bones
While ever unable
Acknowledge me capable
In body of what
He’s been searching for
Within the wrong spot
Of what female love is not
For the trap he fell into
Was that of an ant stew
In which might they blame also you
For the ants were sure myself incapable
By having my own marsupial
And yet instructed his less stable
Fears of their table
That it could not
Be worth his search for what
To think of me able
For to the ants mind sure I burn hot
Yet in this freeze within fires am I not
But in need of his protection
To have been able prevent of
What of me he wishes
No other girl was
So let my freeze belong
To his fire long
For all those who had done
What has been his delusion
Are to whom it will become
The worst that have been
Our reputations
Short of the turn around
When economic prosperity
Meets this ground
For law knows we both found
In which government decisions have
Economies been bound
Now frozen sound
By love thwarted and ants proud
Have our waters gone down
So make sure your work
To turn it around
Will ever by real Kinship be bound
In our generation why gowned
With the end of all racism now

(Wednesday 10th June: called “not too cryptic lets hope”)

Saint Mary’s edge
Upon Redcliffe wedged
A Tent Embassy hedged
Bet upon what fence
Best not sit on
For any time long
Since the wrong fellow didn’t belong
To this time upon
Yet were feather-footed who did
What on Earth this is
Unless our business
Corrects which fellow it is
Who by Queen’s governance lives

(Monday 8th June)

Couldn’t Say

Couldn’t say so
Few words I knew
To tell my self to
Who might need through
Me believe in himself too
Couldn’t say
I’ve not much left
Not much of anything you’ll need I bet
Too sad alone
To be able to say
I just wanted some company today
Just angry enough
To have known what need love
But not able to say
He’ll need me today
So find your bind
Be in every mind
For what’s been left out
Made no wife the shout
Since her story’s sound life
Never yet found

(Wednesday 3rd June)

Strings Attached

I asked once
Of the Irish on a hunch
But no luck
For having asked
What would they buy
But that it’d be dire
But asked have I
For no strings attached to I
Through all and goodbye
And ‘twas just as I
Had hoped and conspired
Upon dimly lit fire
Until just because
Of some other sorts of
Folk who imagined they knew us
Was that the Irish set up
Of falsifying my asserting
That no need existed
To follow up
By suppositions without love
Having been what’s imagining
That the strings I ever cut off
Were that I’d have to be controlled with
As though from above
Just because I once fell in real love
With an Aborigine
A black fellow
Who loved me well met mellow
When I’ll not tell
But evidenced strong
Was it imagined of me hollow
By the bizarre among Australia’s fishes
That no control upon myself
Might I ever again exert
Nor strain to sustain
My good behaviour
Did they assert their own fame
Upon my simple game named
The conspiracy to subvert
What invaders with us have hurt
And return all truths into
What in reality we all will renew
Yet that the Irish feigned being lamed
By none other than an Australian game
Of playing along with the wrong
Until and just because of its throng
The way out of be seen strong
For in Yarralumbla was
No reason for ought
Like the strings
I have now seen
Upon my Christmas decorations clean
Linked to that of Angels to eat
Was no gingerbread treat
But of prayers to meet
Will the fires within
My waters conspire
As ever I have
The conspiracy pyre
And the flames will reach ever higher
Up those strings that Kings
Have released by and by
For ‘twas all we could manage
To unravel each tangle
As I
Never had let no strings
Define
That which enacted
My body besides
The strings I myself find
Hook onto
Follow and bind
With well loved blessings mild
Heaven’s unravelling finds
Those burnt will their own nigh
For alongside the Irish
Your strings were never connected to me
Just your clear memory
By mine intact believe
And manage in future
Without me
Without imagining some strings upon
These wings no Earth made Kings
Have blessed me with
For all imagined is
That the fires will burn
Every string in turn
Not worth what I’ve learned

On My Dreaming Be Poor

If you have been
Upon my dreaming
Laughing obscene
Of fields teaming
With insects breeding
Best remember for
Your own life not my worst call
But that in the dearth of sorrow your
Disputes beyond the fall
Against initiates law
Will never I have caused
So when blaming me for
Be you better best be poor

His Costs I Bore

Dreaming done
Were you sure
Is it what
You thought you came for
And did you pay
For any more
So let me inform
That what he owes me
Is community
While what I owe him
Be the key
With which his debts to see
Thus how can I be
Yet how could all who
Have herein prevented he
From learning with me
How can it be
This his key
Was by preventing him
Letting me
Live among my community
That will all well never again score
For this key be nevermore
To open alone no door
Nevermore no bridge lore
Evermore the golden arch now poor

(Tuesday June 2nd)

Howdy to the Cowgirl Spiced Boys

Those spice girls
Are not nice girls
So why have
Good men
Not ignored them
When
In fact spiced have
Been being managed by
A girl more good than
Men could assess the damage
For when a girl knew not to imagine
But yet those spice girls could get
Her husband yet
To assume that good girls are
More spicier by far
Best find yourselves more than sure
Of what spice is what to and who for
For when what a good girl has brought
Is what men were supposed
To be preventing
Remember not to ignore her
Anyone who about you’re unsure
For who is who has no more
Any easy detection for
All those spice girls just as
A good girls mind was
So just let
Those spice girls show all
Their careless ways up poor
Of no nests for
Settling sure
Through their haze of
Thwarted tracks was
The way to just let
Them show up
What it was that they wanted
No further need that they were prevented
For their own in me well defended
And so all face their acts
Of having depended ever upon a
Good girl’s real facts
Did that spice girls well thought of
Were that spice girls were nether imagined
Have having been hating us all on
What for we were letting them
Exist upon assuming
They are our brave grave
And that this was made
For it is with what they have blamed
Me before now I have sound
I had my own mind upon made
To ask for
A husband
Help me dig well
Those spiced down graves
For in will they all fall
Once they have me well paid
And every cowgirl poor but
Of cows this poem is for
Its curried flavour no favours for
Spiced were the girls who
No cow begat sure

(Wednesday May 27th 3:39 pm)(by June 27th strange sri lankan police agents were hanging about me)

Why Not

Of the Indian
Good habits
Have my lessons been
Yet of their money’s facts
Naught but the test
Of what was done to me
At curiosity’s behest
Will prove the point precisely
That nobody knew who could
Did you and do we
For in India
Culture could prevent what
Money’s count was upon
As it could have also in me
Yet that the invasion’s betterment
Has been
For as to why how and what of
Let how to know knowledge
Be your guide to me
For no husband of India could have let
A girl have had the leg to
Have walked the route
I could do
An Australian Aborigine

Nothing

She had nothing to fear from me
When way back now in two thousand and three
After she with her boots took to me
For what I’d in store
Will I implore
You to think of equitably kindly
Since when next we met
I decided you bet
Not even to try to
Dodge what she
Had then in store for me
But she failed to be
Who threw the punch
That fractured my nose
For the lunch of those
Who had wanted prevent
Evidence of my descent
Originally and in antiquity
An Australian Aborigine
Yet when she
Who first kicked me
Chucked a first punch
As strong as those I already had
Learned to throw when need will know
I couldn’t even take it as lunch
But just decided
To prove why I had been
Angry about
Insinuations with clout
Implying white skin relations
Be unable to believe in
The impermanence and balance
In which exists solid matter
As though we’d never resolve
The solution in which to dissolve
All wrong now solid that be
As that punch there was to me
And walking right through its delivery
Without so much as flinching
Could I proved whose test
Had imaginations beset
With what’ll never know eternity
So how could she be
Afraid of me
For even if I’d that quality
In which to follow blindly
The recommendations
Undercover police present
Gave to me
To prosecute the matter
Of a black punch upon a white fellow’s hunch
I’d frankly prefer to believe
It did not happen
And could not have been done to me
But she
In that world I am the end of
In deeds done and facts unnumbered won of
Yet accounted still and first had the will
She seems to need
Not surprisingly
In herself imagined to believe
Yet still how now afraid of me

Wednesday May 27th

A White Fellow’s Morning

When I woke up
I assumed my best
Be that my indigenous
Ancestry’s test
Has in us descendants left
Strong biological benefit
And yet
If nobody wanted
My lost generation
No need to blame
When perhaps a mistake has been
Failing to recognise that my best is me
And of everything I am that is me
It is my Emu Spirit real
And my birth songline I dream
And the whole set of my ancestry
That makes me
Who I am that I like to be
And while distant black relatives
Might not have wanted me in
Among who is given acknowledgement
It always has been
How I think inside this white skin
That makes me
Relate best within this identity
Of asserting my Aboriginality
And whenever without community
Ostracised long now from
White society
It always was and will be
My Emu dreams
In this wallaby story
Sustaining me
With or without
Confirmation of Aboriginality
So maybe
Best for me
Is to agree with how I dream
That the best of all my ancestry
Are who could ensure me born
Australian Aborigine

Family Truths

It has been
A long time
Too soon
For me
Too soon for many
To believe
In me
Too long since I
Have had any
Body to hold me in
To what I dream true
So that it seems to be
My mother who
You mistook for me
And sister who
You hooked me to
But never yet by me
What have you imagined of my dreams
While I do believe
My father true
Wants only for you
To remember how well loved his wife has been
And as for me
All I knew
Was for making sure
My own sons want not that door
But will love their women well towards
Being a better mother than ever before

(Tuesday May 26th)

Oh

Oh the pickles we throw
When once we know
This problem already below
Ought best not be solved too slow

So

So to the worth
Of all my best verse
Will that he terse
Catch out himself first

Though

Though if not with my find
He’ll sure need in time
We may all have to mind
Featherfoot’s found in ASIO binds

Sew

So let them be not cognoscente of their demise
By how far out of tune and time
Will their set ups grind
Us into how we realise

Know

No known woe
Might be my foe
For feathered feet without
Shoes are ants mind

(Monday May 25th)

There’s the good and the bad
Among my mob and
Among your mob
Well
I just can’t so quickly tell
But more the fool I’d be
If to assume you all be
Above in love and
Holier than we
Yet thus more foolish I’ll be
For I could not presume
Your own story had room
For much too much bad among good
Like every story’s woods
Let me not condemn
But just point to the thin
Line in between
What’s always fine and
What best never had been
Since from where I stand
What I’ve seen are the brands
Of all the good among
Your mob as
Ignorant and
Fallen to the bad
In ways I’d be unable
To countenance of my own stand
As to why we ought always
Enable communication’s grand
Etiquettes and stations
Negotiations and places
Revelations and phrases
Enabling reconciliation
Not just between us
My own mob and
You in yours but
Between what we’ve together
Begun to understand
Of the good and the bad
When I’ve seen of your bad
What you weren’t able to mind sad
Perhaps you have
Of my own lot
Perceived something I thought I had got
To be in fact worse than not
For it has been that bad
So let me tell you now sad
Of what I see in your bad
And how your good at its best
Was being made less and less
For I need you to command
Me to withhold and redress
All the bad of my own mob
Me among my distinct lot
Of uncertain mind fog
Who’s been just too bad
To be let about on the land
So let’s reconcile ourselves
To learning to tell
Without blaming the games of
One another’s fame but
Just let life in love
Figure its way through
The most difficult of stuff
For the world is complex enough
Without needing confuse
You for the worst of
The bad lot
You’ve had hanging off you
Yet together we can
Love life well enough of
Needing to countenance
Bad ways along with us
Since there is twice as much
Bad as there is good
In every true moment
With love in

(Sunday May 24th)

When we arrive on the ground
And recognise what we’ve found
Whatever becomes I’ll abound
In God fearing excesses now
For in these computed recesses
Of computing no access
To how computer success is
What none of us could for be less
What comes to mind
Be the find
Of lessons in Arabic tongue
First start with mortality
And move on through disparities
Of why and what for we have done
But I’ve never not been
And thus in life won
Yet best keep myself clean
By leaving out the obscene
Idea of never ending
Electric stuff
For eternity never needed no gun
Inshallah the sum
Will abide no fun
For all who’ve been poor
In how words portray the door
Of what electric means are for
While the prayers of many
Have paved the internet’s floor
And who has blamed this message
Will be who is paying for

(ground zero or one better again be above poem’s name)

Saturday May 23rd

Couldn’t The Future Mine

Couldn’t see it if he tried
Couldn’t try for fear of
What might be inside
Couldn’t the inside find
Of what too late might bind
When he couldn’t without
Fear for sanity’s mind
Know that in future
He’ll call me mine

(Friday May 22nd)

And the key to my story,
Let me make it not boring,
Will be to the seasons,
Never no lack for reason,
Says that the fear which went to his head,
Was threefold and nearly,
Enough I’d be dead,
But in my own dreaming,
He’s a father to believe in,
With well founded sane reason,
In the truth and its season,
Yet of his deliverance,
He has yet to countenance,
What I have done that,
He could live among,
Me and my mob at our best,
That he mistook for needing his head read,
While what he has done for me,
Smoked up the sum of,
Words his competitor sent,
That with this my thumb I,
Will teach him my best lesson yet,
For truth will out by internet get,
Its web near the roof of why lent

Posted in Facebook notes on Friday 22nd May 2009

The Sins of Our Dreaming

Did I just want to know
If the fellow I like
Might fit inside
My girl part alright
Or was it my fright
Began at the sight
On his face sorrow
And myself not recognised
Yet in his eyes
That I find I will give
Unto him
All he could want of
My anything
Yet never without
His own participation
In bodily corroboration
The sins of our dreaming
Having a way to
In reality believe in

(maybe that would be enough words for a good poem, but then I was still angry so more come out)

Recovery for belief is
That no sin will be
What may yet
Bring him to me
Just so I can say
I’m sorry today
For in anger my mind
Has an irrational sway
That forgets the need to
Sustain myself
Through what other people
May yet need belief in the wealth
Of a sane personality frame
I’ve been screaming inside my brain
From dreaming he’s been doing my game
Without yet realising who I am me the same
Until perhaps will
He read what I wrote
And realise we’ve both been
In the same boat
But in sanity’s society broke
Since being white of skin
In a hot country is
Demeaning of what
Sustains sanity been
Effected between
Want for him now and
What he’s been imagining
Of need not to have me
He’ll best learn not to tarry
About the real marriage
Since if he leaves me out again
Of action upon our real dreaming
I swear I’ll do his head in
Since he’s already done me
Into dropping out of university
And prove my love to he
But while he gets silly
With an ant cow all frilly
And better it be me
Who caused his insanity
Since my way will always be
The way through to a sane me
Yet he wanted to be
Tough seeming enough
To be in among the
Local former inmate boys crowd
So let him learn that to read
His own way
Need not be also
To bleed
But that to commit
To accept one’s own fault
In every sin dreamed
need not be the same
As action upon lies lame
But facing up will
Keep his instinct
Free of blame
In sanity’s name

Posted in a Facebook note Tuesday May 19th 2009:

Been thinking about congenital abnormalities today: what if they are all caused by either sustaining a more consolidated comprehension of individual social responsibilities, than the environment we are born into can provide, or, by sustaining a less comprehensive assessment of ones own individual responsibilities as a human being; while those of us born “normal” have the capacity to adjust our level of social responsibilities, to be in accord with our environment; and yet, eventually, as we age, people tend to, either try to repudiate the naturally increasing level of social responsibility which comes with age, or, tend to also become more inclined to want to accept a greater degree of social responsibility than our environment can sustain us in; and thus, either way, we also, just like those born with congenital abnormalities, eventually have to face the failures of our body.

Here is words for another idea in the forefront of my mind this morning:
“Anything you call me, will become me, or rather, I will be it, I will count it, and either overthrow or inhabit it, with my life: thus, do not name me or attempt in any way to define me, without becoming yourselves defined as the definer of what you have defined me as.”
I think there is law in religion for these words also

Posted in a Facebook note Friday May 15th 2009:

Just a bit bloody too late
It was beforehand already mate
But then some more
Too late for all
That the fellow concerned
Takes the fall
Because
No girl can get
No betrothed husband met
Out of the depths
Of a nasty ant’s nest
Thus the ants have done
Whatever we fall to when love
Unrecognised might have won
If only the ants had some
So without guilt have fun
Upon their festering none
For they’ll never know
What you and I might have done
If only together they’d let our run

Posted in a Facebook note Thursday May 14th 2009:

Either Stream of Consciousness Writing,
or Allegorical Words Biting,
your choice, no fighting:

As cold as a hill
I sat of the will
To account for today
And what holds it still
Freezing a lot
I counted what I got
Finding it needed
The sunshine now streaming
To thaw me because
Of these words you are reading
So to hand it on in
An assignment might win
But seeing its fault
Need I correct what was
Yet still warming me up
Until near enough
To a dream intervened
Into my brain it seems
Not of my own fame
But somewhat of distain
Did I notice police sources
Prosecuting their causes
And attempting accuse pauses
Wanting to influence
Whatever this is
I write without applause since
Not many can endure it
But who as might implore this
Truth be no policeman’s
Despite that which they forced in
To my head just here and now when
Waiting to feel safe again
To reprint an assignment and
Best change metre for
The next part already written before
The first line was
Yet cold enough and hill with got
What police pressed me to be of
Money as I
Understand its ill by
Was only like
The generation before
Me but my
Own generation now known
Be not the age group within I am grown
But that of why(Y)
And the oldest I know of is my
Own story by and by
(and again is the first line)
(but here are more of my
Words about why)
That which they spill
To their intent was
Of my bill
To force me reveal
Whom it might be
I blame still
Yet when my truth real
I have none to blame but
The depth my own grave was
When before last measured
But did that picture yet
Ring true just then
Of those funny old policemen
Were they wanting me to
Reveal where money will
Or rather lie
For the truth in the sky
I’ve already shown why
How and what by
Money’s worth will die
Yet still they refute
Depose and dispute
My former repute
Hoping beyond hope
My once ill mind provoke
Into reconciling how
As though I’d believe
My own generation to be
Able produce more money
Than all gone before me
When what I find still
Is that without will did
Force generations gone by
Pile their money up high
Upon this future here now
Of Aborigines born white
To inherit its blight
Thus I
Forever a mother
Could do far better than to discover
Any new way to make money brother
While all before is yet crumbling
All over the grounds which
Had been given as sound
Truth for my fortune
Dreamed of as bound
And run away from loud
Yet never not bought in
For upon my own head has been
Every cent I’ve ever known or seen
And thus me
Now in a sweat
Loving the sunshine you bet
With my face under the shade of
A leather jacket been saved

The Part of Me Nobody Wanted: Posted in a Facebook Note Thursday May 14th 2009

The Part of Me Nobody Wanted

(a way long way difficult yarn for reading only if you are brave and hardy)

It is possible, that perhaps everybody who does not want to know this part of my story, is not wanting to for a good reason. So let me tell you here, that they folk who make a joke of me behind my back, were always right that, I am just “a silly bit of a supposition” as one ex-nobody put it, also “too naive to know better” is true thank God, and “best left to her own devices” also. The problem being that sometimes, when I do know better, it is always the worst of times, and I most often put my foot in it severe. The foot of being drilled by family into having nice manners no matter what, that is, usually. Although, once or twice, I could perhaps have been ruder than anybody, and that is what this part of my story is about. I seem to manage to do it to myself no matter what social context, and no matter what cultural paradigm I exist in. So here, I just want to ask a potentially rhetoric question. Is it as it seems?

Is it just too silly and naive to, for example, use bad words as a way of maintaining social credibility? And my mind, thinking about it, goes YES IT IS!!! Perhaps because one thing I have discovered about using the internet, is that our words can only convey real meaning through dreaming, in the ways that the internet tends to interfere with dreams, if we are letting our fingers typing be held into the same laws for the words in our breath. In the world’s mythologies, it is King Solomon at Zion who is the boss of the initiation for learning this law. He will hold you accountable to your every word, as though perfectly true even if not true, and therefore, even if it means sounding silly and naive, I prefer not to need any bad word.

However, since in my dreams, all the other words of real language went silent, in dreams of a lifetime without real speech, (yet listening and reading the Bible), and I only had these English ones my body knows left any more, there are times when bad words are either useful or inescapable. The word that might best be applied to the story I am going to tell here, could be one like “fuck”, or “rape”, if I wanted to tell it that way. But since I am not going to let anybody think that I have any escape from the situation I will tell, and rather, prefer you to think of me within being held into my own culpability in it, I will not apply such words to this story in particular. It is a bad story, but true.

One day I am walking home to a house, that used to be a brothel, and did not have a working lock on the front door, but only a pile of old furniture pushed against it, that someone who is known bizarrely as “Peter Pan” had already broken into and stolen a set of knives from me, freakily. It is in West End in Brisbane, and I am walking home from Food-Not-Bombs, after volunteering to help with the cooking and dishes. A bloke with dreadlocks comes up to me and presumes that I will know who he is. He frightens me, and I point out that we never met before, so he tells me that he was at a Buddhist monk’s talk I went to in a coffee shop across the road. He is being salubrious and suggestive and I dislike his attention intensely. I run away.

Some months later, now awhile after the first Dreaming Festival, I am still living in the same house, and I am in the City in the afternoon, and the same man walks up to me, intercepting me while I crossed a road, and acting as though we had been planning to meet. I get scared and just go along with his weird way of asking me if he can walk me home. It feels like he is couching everything he says with threats of violence. Like either I have to just adjust myself to his way of approaching me as though it is normal, or I am dead. He follows me around and so I modify what I where planning to go, because I do not want him to know. We don’t share any culture he and me, but he is expecting that we are in the same cultural paradigm already, and while walking together, I notice that he is capable of getting the local black community to recognise him as though he is a black man, and I start to get very very worried. He does not interact with me within a black cultural paradigm, but on the way home, he wants to show off what a big impression he makes on Freemasons, and takes me into the boat show at the convention centre.

As it turns out he lived just around the corner from me, and he already knew where I live. He asked me if I’d go to his house for a drink. I said no, and told him the truth, that he is not right for me to be in the company of alone like that within Aboriginal Kinship law. He is a son-in-law, but I am so terrified by now, that I am wondering if he even could have been a skin brother, but just a son-in-law. His reaction was to make a daft English people’s joke about it “raining cats and dogs”, and he said it with a bit of weird satisfaction in him that was very creepy, even though his joke was too true. True he intended it to mean like “so now you reckon you can turn me into a cat do you”. It was like having to face every fear of not being able to turn lies into animals all at once talking with him.

The next day, two things happen. I got a message from a community housing provider that they had a house for me, and went and picked up a key to have a look inside, and then accepted the offer of renting it, and they said I could have it on Monday. It was Thursday already, so there were only four nights to go. But I am terrified of that weird bloke, and am so terrified that I don’t feel safe sleeping at my house. I wonder if I should just sleep in the parks a few nights, since I have been known to sleep rough when I needed to and did not have my children with me. (They are oblivious to these events and all living with their Irish dad at the time, who I was then in middle of a family court battle with, with an appeal hearing about interim orders coming up the next week.) I am happy that I’ve been offered a three bedroom house in time for the appeal hearing. However, before I even get home, before I have decided where to sleep, the scary bloke approaches me again where I am sitting in the City writing a letter to an English girl I know who lives in Canberra, hoping to get it into the post before 6pm. In the letter I am telling that I was having a dream of being instructed that now is the best time for me to be conceiving a baby, since the baby will have good astrology. But I have to wonder about the timing of that dream, since lots of my dreams have proven to be out of time with everybody else’s. The bloke asks me to go to a pub for a drink with him, and I let him take me. I get it into my head that this is just going to have to be that inevitable part of my story where (like Ta’mar in the Bible), I am going to have to be confused for being a prostitute. So I go along with the situation, all the while observing every detail, and keeping my own intentions to myself. (This is the part of how I tell this story, where all my non-Aboriginal friends who also don’t know culture, drop out of believing I have any sane credibility any more, since they don’t believe in stories have set patterns with inevitable consequences; and oddly enough, a few years before, it had been those of my non-Aboriginal friends who know the law about how stories work, through the Gurdjieff Society’s work, who had first begun trying to push me into a prostitutes story. They pushed a bit too hard and too soon and without accounting for the fact that I was then convicted by the holy ghost, and had been since infancy, so was only keeping up with what they were up to, because of having shared some ganga with a few of them. They were on the end of the equation of knowing that they were doing something dangerous by smoking while trying to make a story for me, and I was only a tiny way in the picture of them trying to put my dreaming into a new story. I guess they were trying to weed out the song cycles from Corroboree in 1988 at Kurnell, but they could not. The story cycle they had from the Gurdjieff work, is already well enough in tune with the Yolngu song cycles. Well, it is like I told everybody to begin with, that the Gurdjieff mob were who first tried to force me into the status of being insane when I could not follow through with the story they wanted me to have.)

So I am having a drink in the pub with a freakily frightening English fellow who has dreadlocks. He wears a leather jacket and tries to tell me that part of it is blue, so I don’t wonder that he seems afraid of being caught out wearing only black and white. He has a limp and he lives in Princhester street West End, Brisbane, just down the road from the Mosque which harboured me when I eventually ran away, just after he became a bit too frisky with a knife in his hand. And I am having a drink with him in a pub. What am I, crazy or something!!

As it turns out, there had already been another instance, when I was trying to get myself free from being a Canberra resident, when I had had a run in with the sort of behaviour which there are many records kept about at the Canberra Rape Crisis Centre. Canberra has a higher than average number of women, and men, reporting having been raped in a pattern of ritualised abuse, which is known to be able to cause what used to be called “multiple personality disorder”, and these days is more likely to be known as the most extreme end of the spectrum of the set of diseases grouped together as “dissociative identity disorder spectrum”, aka DIDs. That is, we are the mob whom organised crime have been setting up to have “did” it all, all their sinning. Usually, full recovery from the sort of abuse I have come into contact with, is enabled by being provided with safe contexts within which to act out what is going on within the insanity. And safe contexts necessitates being given good quality information about oneself by safe witnesses, as well as actually having a strong will to recover. However, even within the full blast of that kind of abuse, if a person belongs true in one of the skin groups that can dream OK (actively as well as passively) in all the other patterns, (like Rainbow Serpents, and old song men), and can also sustain total self knowledge whilst experiencing the abuse, then it does not actually cause a mental disorder. The problem I had, was that everybody who knew that had been done to me, had no precedent in their knowledge of facing somebody who did not become insane from their abuse. So anybody who is at all connected with organised crime down in Canberra, (eg the AFP, who one day kindly drove me to the back door of the psychiatric unit of one of the Canberra hospitals, when I had just had my nose broken by a jealous chick and was scared of what next), seems to suppose that it is just impossible for me to still be sane.

However, since I had already witnessed one of the Gurdjieff Society men attempting to force me into a story of having insanity, because of not going along with what he wanted me to fit in with, (because that would have been real insanity, since it had a part which was too dangerous for somebody close to me)(and because I already had a safer song cycle that can rule over what the Gurdjieff mob were attempting to do to me)(and because of too many “because”s here best just know that there is a lot being left out for now), I had already once before been in a psychiatric ward, and knew it would be unpleasant, but easier to get out of once in, than any of the other options I was being presented with. Those options were: letting organised crime blame me for being a bad mother by turning me into a drug addicted prostitute, or, letting organised crime blame me for being a bad mother by turning me into a drug addicted prostitute, or, letting organised crime . . . etc. Etc. Actually, I would not have got myself into that whole story among criminals (it was bad enough among the hippies that I knew better already), except that there were good dreams of a husband finding me, and he did find me, but when the criminals realised that I already knew a way out of wrongly projected insanity stories, they did it to him instead of me, which is too bloody sad, but just proves the whole story in fact, because it is why I have never been married up proper yet. That husband had been in gaol too often for him to be able to find me in a context that did not have criminals around. He was true, and gave me a much much better and nicer story than anybody else did, even though he could not marry me because of the extent of ritualised abuse happening around us. He gave me a story of writing. He also gave me a whole set of dreams about some of the worst parts of what was going on in between the Tent Embassy and Canberra Rebels, and . . . . . . but it would have been much better if we had met up again, since he really needed my social background of having grown up in Canberra with nice white middle class folk who are just as embedded with organised crime as any black former gaol inmate ever has been. I dreamed of meeting him again nine times, but then had a dream that he wants me to marry a white man instead now. However that dream did not happen until a few years after the story I am telling now, about the Englishman with dreadlocks, who happened also to have been a Rebel biker, who fancied himself being somewhat of an expert at ritualised abuse. It seems that he had condescended to taking up the task of forcing me into the stories I kept escaping from, and thought it might be just a bit of fun for himself, and so I went along with the party, pretending that he was succeeding, right up until there was a clear getaway.

When I say that he had “condescended” to taking me on, that is exactly what I mean, in that he pointed out that it is normally beneath his social status among criminals, to have to deal with somebody like me, but that I was a special case and he wanted to. He did not seem to have much social status around him at all, however, whenever outside of his flat in Princhester street, there was some strange assortment of Japanese street people, often dressed up like Manga characters, and following us. They seemed to notice that I was not falling for him, but they did not let on to him. It was extremely surreal.

What I learned from the situation, through looking at his books, playing chess with him, looking at the pictures on his walls, and eating together what he cooked me, was that he was a real fairdinkum neo-nazi, who had a delusion that he had been an actual Nazi in a former lifetime. Also that his father was in the Plymouth Brethren, who are an ostracised band of the Brethren internationally by now, (bearing in mind that John Howard was given loads of money for the Liberal party by the Exclusive Brethren shortly after the intervention legislation came into effect), since folk like me say bad things about them. But the bloody terrifying part was that he insisted on asserting that he had been having cocaine induced dreams about me ever since he was about nineteen, which was a good thirty years or so. He seemed to expect me to be comprehensively cognoscente of the content of his cocaine induced delusions. So I went along with it. What else could a girl do?

He also, had an ever weirder set of schizophrenic type delusions, about all sorts of weird and wonderful things connected with ancient Chinese mythology. Slug monsters and the like. He asserted to me, over our chess games, that his spirit had travelled from China, (where, supposedly, for anybody who fancies being able to believe in schizophrenic type delusions, he had once been the guy who established the Han dynasty . . . . . . which I had studied at university and knew it had printed up an over supply of money and caused terrible inflation . . . ), and had learned enough through astrology to believe that the story cycles for the whole world for the next thousand years are being set and locked up here in Australia. True he was very sure of himself in the Feng Shui of it all (Feng Shui is about the influences that effect us from stars as well as geology and planets, not only how we arrange our houses). Too sure he was in fact. Fully and totally sure, that if any of the bad guys of the planet, were going to have any input into the outcomes of stories for the next thousand years, that they were going to have to be in Australia and be nasty bloody rapist arseholes. He asserted that he began in China, and then travelled west, and his spirit had also been that of the Nazi Himmler (not quite sure myself which was more worrying, the Han Emperor, or Himmler, or just that I was in a room with a person who wanted to believe himself capable of being those people). How my own psychology dealt with the patterns he was asserting, was by developing a belief in the Chinese culture having its own effective exorcisms, but which tend to ostracise and expel bad mob out of China, without having yet put a finish to their bad jobs. A totally freaked out part of his delusions, was that the bad mob of Chinese monster spirit people, (just like all the monsters in the Monkey story), set out to arrive here in Australia by different routes, with some going via Europe, (since Europe had the Feng Shui for social leadership stories in the part of the astrology before the dawn of the age of Aquarius, while Australia has it from the beginning of the dawn), and others coming more directly here via Indo-China/S.E.Asia; and, that many of those whom set out to arrive here with the intent of fiddling with our song cycles, were those Chinese whom there is archaeological evidence of as having arrived here in Australia around 350 years ago, (that is, after Muslims first got here and before Europeans). Now, I don’t know what any of you reading this will be able to make of this story, and how believable or not any of it is, but, what is important here, is not really what I may or may not want to believe in of what the bugger communicated to me, (eg he was accusing me of himself having needed to grow dreadlocks and be all scruffy looking to get anywhere near me, and asserting that he would have preferred being in an army, while I am sitting there just totally freaked out about why it is me who he wanted, and using my anger at him to focus my attention on remembering every scrap of what I am witnessing , just so as to be able to sustain my sanity afterwards), but what it might be important to know, is that somebody like him can have already existed, and has demonstrated to me that he is influential among organised crime here in Australia, and happens to have the most bizarrely frightening set of delusions of anybody I’ve ever heard about.

What is worrying me most is the bloke’s former cocaine habit, and that he is sure that his long term cocaine nightmares are coming real in meeting me. He had a weird set of addictions on him, including a good part of the trade of the health food industry. He fed me a tuna steak but when he bought it, he was dumping on my own story as it connects with the Gurdjieff Society.

I won’t go into any of the details of what actually went down between us in our behaviour, but it was weird, and at one point I noticed that while he was asleep he was in a dream that made him look like one of my sons when very young, whom, at that age, had had a few really bad nightmares. I whispered in the Nazi’s ear while he slept, that I knew what he was up to and he had no way of escaping me in my anger. The part of the New Testament which is related to this whole story, is at Mathew, Chapter 18. That part also can be related to the causes of “D.I.D. spectrum with multiples”, because folk who have that mental illness are being fully obedient to the law defined in that chapter of the Bible. Me too, and perhaps the main difference between me and most folk who have that disease, is that I don’t like being intoxicated, and want my mind to always be sharply observant, so I kind of landed the nightmare a bit more overtly than most, and had to walk through some of the worst of it.

After I escaped, (into the Mosque), (luckily I already had a strong enough link in me with Islam),(and I spoke in tongues to the Muslim men, who listened and heard it in Arabic and believed me, and helped me get myself into the relative safety of being in a crowded city street so I could go to a police station), I was in the middle of the Brisbane River Fire crowds, and spent the rest of the night trying to convince police to take me seriously. The QLD police did get a policewoman expert to listen to me, but she told me that she did not want to have to do the paperwork because she had no way of knowing that I had not been a whore who was trying to rip some poor bloke off. The police did seem capable of believing me, until they found out the bloke’s name and address. However, I did get them to make a tape recording of me ringing the bloke, because they said that they would need to hear it for their own evidence to be able to believe me. He didn’t answer the phone, and so I just left a message, which sort of messed up the police’s evidence picture, since I said “I know that you know that I did not want what you were intending towards me”, and then the police took me up to the sexual health service. It was about 2a.m. by then, and eventually somebody offered me a bed for the night in the hospital, but the only bed free was in the part of the psychiatric unit in casualty. They had me locked up in the solitary unit all night, but the next morning I told the specialists that I am fine and could I please go home now and they let me out. I stayed the next night in a hotel after phoning my mother who paid for it, and then the next night in the new house. Add it up folks, between Thursday and Monday, how many nights was I kicking around with a Nazi for. So I had to agree with the police that they did not need to prosecute.

The worst part has been that I had to go to a cranial osteopath to get the nerves that connect my kidneys to work properly again afterwards, and it was a few days before I figured out what I needed to do, so I have sustained some kidney damage. The other worst part, was the lies I was told, and how long it took to untangle myself out of those. The worst lie was the date, and I was tripped up into turning up at court a day late, which seems to have been what the arsehole had intended. There were only three lies all up that he told me, and I won’t tell what the one lie is I told him. Yet I did happen to notice that his lies were attuned with how Chinese culture enables people to regulate their initial interactions with one another. (Having been to China myself in 1991.) The most concerning part of this story, which is why I bother to tell it at all really, is not that it makes it difficult for other people to believe me, so much as that the bloke has real connections with real right wing extremists who hate black people. He has tuned me in with the calls and dreams of aspects of the policing here in Australia, which police normally keep secret from folk with black skin; and I frequently experience frustration with black men whom have been formerly gaol inmates, in how they are falling into patterns which fit into the sorts of set ups that the neo-Nazi bloke I am telling about, believe to be evidence of a white supremacist victory in stories, and which include governments having been setting up a black middle class into supposing they have more power than is real. What he was not counting on, was that regardless of skin colour, what access any person has to power, is not by social status, or money, but by the real totality of results of their own work. The only position I took of disagreement with him throughout the whole experience, was of combating his ideas about being able to blame people because of the colour of their skin. I won our argument.

However, since the police could not take me seriously and sanely, (although their tape recording may well already be in my ASIO files), the idiot of a neo-Nazi who is the subject of this story, (I am myself its object of course), is still “at large”. I had a dream a few years ago that he eventually cuts off his dreads to hide. But from who?

The worst thing that has happened to me, in the aftermath of the whole situation, was that one night, I had a dream, among many with vivid impossible seeming dreams of world war two, that continued until I set about to read up on the history of the Nazis and the Holocaust, and after I read enough, those dreams dissolved into comprehending the experiences of real life survivors. But in one of those dreams, (this is such a joke, but really what happened to me), I woke up suddenly, with a dream in me of Hitler phoning me up (fully vivid true set in the environment of the end of world war two, so I have to thank the movie industry for the imagery, since I can’t have actually dreamed of anything from before I got born, can I?), and asking if it will be safe to get born again as somebody who knows me. Weird huh??? (It’s gotta be those ASIO agents at work I reckon) So what did I go and do about having that dream: I went and made the contribution of sitting there in the middle of the night talking in tongues with whoever was in my dream, and in tongues, I might have said something like “well this is how it’s already happened to me, so suck shit”. That was after whoever it was in that phone call dream, was also instructing me to keep the baby.

So if only anybody could actually get me pregnant again, then the sequences might work out different, but so far, I’ve had three babies, who were all removed from me (when 11, 8, and 5), by the court believing in a false allegation that the combination of belief in Aboriginal culture (which they imagined to be pure insanity, but I know better), and having had a relationship with a black former gaol inmate, (whom the Irishman alleged to be capable of having forced me to become a paedophile as the wife of), combined together with having home schooled my children for a while, (during a long camping adventure which was worked into a home schooling curriculum I made, and obtained the official, on paper, authority of the ACT Department of Education for), and in the context of my own affidavits having been lost in the family court registry (but the lawyer, who was representing my NSW based lawyer at the time, has subsequently been struck off the register of QLD legal practitioners, after I complained to first to the Law Society who could not do anything about it since he never got paid by me, but only by legal aid N.S.W., and before I complained to the QLD legal services commissioner, well that lawyer, apparently was already known among QLD lawyers as having had too many of the documents relating to his cases getting lost in the family court registry), all together were bad enough for the interim family court orders to go in favour of my children’s Irish dipsomaniac of a father. However, five years after the court case began, the orders went in my favour, except that the children had been so long already at their Dad’s house that they courts would not move them back in with me only on that basis.

It is sort of like how people who were removed from their family and culture cannot always just suddenly start to dream normally again because sorry has been said now. But that does not mean that we cannot all recover from the story. Recovery needs time, patience, and the will of our loved ones.

My children need to know that their mother was never going to let a story like this hurt anybody. It’s a bad one, but like every bad story, it sows its own seed for recovery from what it caused, and in motherhood’s veil, I have always kept my heart with the needs of my children’s best interests, and have also always had strong feeling of a real husband somewhere able to do the same for me. But I will leave it with everybody who knows me to guess as to which of all the men I have met he might be.

In having reflected on this whole experience further now, through writing it down (AGAIN: the first efforts I made to write about it right after it happened, so as to salvage my sanity at the outset, were something that an ASIO operative really did get somewhat excessively interested in, almost as though he imagined that ASIO could get an advantage over the QLD state police while also taking sides against me in the situation, in which I had to consider it almost no wonder that the AFP and state police forces tend to gang up together against ASIO behind their back), there are a couple of points to make about what was so very dangerous about the psychology of the nasty chap I have encountered, as told here. All his various delusions can be condensed down into three misplaced beliefs. The obvious false belief he had was that human beings are capable of working miracles without abiding within obedience to the entire set of Logos (True Law/Kabbalah/Shar’iah: call it whatever you want to, we all know that certain laws, of physics for example, cannot be altered); and another obvious false belief he had was a real and total lack of faith in nature, and letting the nature of the way life is just work itself out; but the less obvious false idea he harboured, was a loss of hope and trust in the way all life combines in one singular endless unity living matter that underpins all of what we define as reality; it is a trust that God is, if you have been raised to believe in One God, but if not, it is a trust in the mystery of all the unknown and unknowable and life sustaining properties existing. We can happily exist within knowing that we do not always know what is real, but we cannot exist in any sanity without having hope that there is at least one intelligence knowing why. We need to be able to avoid despair, because despair makes life itself feel incompatible with what we witness, and the only way of avoiding despair is through working. Believe it or not, but the fellow I have been describing, really did have the internal capacity to understand that God exists, and really did want to be a believer, and really can believe in himself. Otherwise I’d be dead. Last time I saw him (he still occasionally finds me in the City, about once or twice a year, and at least tries to take pleasure in terrifying me, in which, because of the police’s responses to the situation, I am normally good mannered, and hide my real sensibility), he was looking less happy then ever, and I told him to go away and watch the T.V. show Spinifex man, which was going to be on that same day. What the police don’t know, is that if they reckon my writing might be in any way a problem for them, then perhaps they had best contextualise the problem within the interpretations of my words which run akin to his, since he always interprets everything in opposites from how I will.

If it has happened by accident that you are yourself feeling distressed in the slightest from reading my story, I could just say that I did warn you, but I’ll also have to tell that it is normally able to be coped with more easily, if you can countenance learning more about my normal social context in general. So try reading a few other of the notes I have made.

At the bottom of this bad story, my only excuse for telling it, is that I have dreams of living its solution, but so far, while ever nobody wanted to believe what the problem was, (despite me being such a “too easy” a target by anybody’s evaluation), I have not been able to land the outcome of my dreams alone, and yet still I dream strong of the solution, as it is threaded through the story I have told, and thus through my existence itself.

Posted in a Facebook note Thursday May 14th 2009:

Born into its song
Will will live well and long
Who’ve witnessed that been wrong
By the story I like
My bodily archetype
Was London not the dreadful fright
It might
But from my home town
Australian bound
Through stories renown
Of Kunti and Innana their gowns
But Koopoo the Roo knew how
In old London town
The Lady of the Lake found
Excalibur was ever
No sword to cut woods down
Thus is Arthur’s woe now
Woven into the ground

My Hairy Story Posted in a Facebook note, Wednesday May 13th 2009:

Once, when I used to have very long hair down past my bum, I had it cut off, after somebody told me that I was being a parody of myself. When I cut it off, I knew my life will be changing.

Then, a friend’s husband rang me up and asked if he could have the hair, because my children’s father owed him and his wife money. I agreed because I liked the idea of what they were going to do with my hair.

They gave it as a gift to a Japanese prosthetics maker, (have to remember here that Yakuza in Japan have a reputation for removing limbs from enemies and failed criminals so there is a good strong prosthetics manufacturing industry), who my friend’s husband had met while they were both working building sets for the Sydney Olympics ceremonies. The Japanese prosthetics maker also makes dolls, as well as theater props, and his dolls are very beautiful, even though a bit odd. They sort of fit into that Japanese style of Art which follows an Artist who wrote about modern Japanese Art by describing Japan as the “Society of the Super-flat”. It is an interesting analysis because of all the cartoons and video games being flattened versions of old stories, and also because Japanese language has a suffix to put on numbers for counting flat objects with. So my hair went to Japan.

Eventually, the doll maker sent a message. First message is that the hair is enough for three dolls. Second message is a gift for me.

The gift is a set of three rollers that slide onto wooden sticks, for rolling over clay to make a print in the clay. The pattern in the rollers is a copy of the pictures in a book about the Innana mythology from Ancient Sumer. The book is by one of the men, called Samuel Noah Kramer, who reads the cuneiform tablets that are about 5000 years old, and a female poet who helped him sequence the story pieces. Inside the book are some photographs of the cuneiform tablets, and the Japanese Artist has made replicas. There is one with a picture of Innana, and another one has wheat and a cow. I feel very blessed by this gift to me from Japan.

I had already been reading the Innana mythology before I received the printing rollers. The reason I read it, is because I had been looking for stories in old mythology with the same basic story structure. I remembered watching a TV show about the movie industry, and the bloke who made Mad Max was in it saying good things. He told how he had obtained permission from the traditional owners of parts of Australia where the first Mad Max film is filmed, and he also told that some of the anthropologists reckon that every story existing at Earth, is made out of twenty six basic stories which exist in every culture. An anthropologist called Mircea Eliade, writes vaguely usefully about that idea, and has it in the Encyclopedia of the World’s Religions, listed under the word “archetypes”. The reason I wanted to find all the archetypes is because I learned from a book that is an allegory from the middle east that has been made for un-ravelling Western European dominated culture, that if we find our own true story, then we can learn good self-knowledge, and use our knowledge of our story to regulate all our response to the world. I knew when I learned it from that book, that it is the same lesson as in Aboriginal cultural traditions, that I am obliged to be strong with from Corroboree in 1988 at Kurnell. Well, when I began to try to find all the archetypes in the books in the library, what was happening to me was that every book I picked up, for months and months, had the exact same story in it, and Innana is one of its versions. It also is like Persephone in the Greek mythology, Kunti in the Indian, and Koopoo the Kangaroo from Katherine gorge. The songline of it travels through my own home town of Armidale, and Kempsey, and New Zealand, and further away through places like Calcutta, Ithaca (where my most recently arrived in Australia ancestors came from), and London where I have lived a while. The story just kept on being the only one I could find until I learned it inside out and upside down and without any doubt. I travelled back to my home town via the back road from Kempsey, up the McLeay river valley, then up the road called “Big Hill”, and on the way, first I saw four black goannas, and each one was smaller than the one before, then, the road went down a gully around a corner and all my fears were piling into my mind all at once, but I was too busy being a good mother to let my fears make a problem that anybody could notice, and then, the road went up the hill, and at the top I saw a red bellied black snake. Later, we camped nearby to where some rare wallabies live, and met those wallabies. I knew it is the same like in Koopoo the Kangaroo, and ever since then, I can’t doubt that I belong in Aboriginal culture now.

But first, something else had to happen. When I was a very little girl, there was an accident, which made me in a state of being “convicted by the holy ghost” (those are Christians words for, and I don’t know any other words that feel safe to tell in every context), and I was still like it. I was like that for thirty years, from 1972. But the night I got given the printing rollers from Japan, I knew to accept the Innana story as myself, and then, I stayed for dinner at my friends mother’s house, who is Vietnamese, and a very good cook. When the food touched my lips, it was just like in the Innana story, and my body started to work like normal for the first time in thirty years. That is only seven years ago now.

So it turns out that letting my friend’s husband send my hair to Japan as a gift, is a good thing. I’ve been feeling like a walking miracle ever since, because when I began to dream again, the nightmares were so thick and heavy around me, that it took a lot of hard work to start to straighten it up, and I know for sure that if I had not recovered, what might have been is too dreadful to consider, but obviously God’s love shone strong for me and my children, because what might have been, in truth, never could have been real.

What is real, is that true traditional tribal culture is proven to always sustain itself as victorious over any amount of psychological abuse that the world could have thrown at us. Since after these things happened to me, through Kinship with traditionally oriented communities, I have become able to piece together the truth of why I was convicted by the holy ghost for so long. My parents both have blood group A+, and I am a B+. The Innana story is the same one for their own original Spirit Tribe/Clan, (same like Joseph in the Bible also, and the female of it in the Bible is called Ta’mar, and it is also the story for Saint John the Evangelist, so Revelations has its pattern also), even though their skin stories are different ones now, and my original mob is Emu, but my parents did not realise that it meant I needed different food from what they need. This is another part of my lesson about why we need traditional culture. Kinship is not only about being related to one another and needing to manage our relationships with each other in the best way, Kinship is also about managing our relationships with country, and with flora and fauna, and so therefore also our relationships with what we are eating.

This is how I first learned Koopoo’s story. He is a big Kangaroo man who wants to be able to feed his whole family. So he digs a hole in the river bank for a water hole to happen, but he digs it a bit too deep. A water hole gets there, but it is too deep and dangerous to swim in. However there is always plenty of good drinking water, and Koopoo’s whole family camp there and are never thirsty. Then the dogs come. They chase all the kangaroos all over the place, and Koopoo’s family is dispersed and he is sad. Koopoo has a dog on his tail and eventually he falls to despair and jumps into his own water hole. But at the bottom, he turns into the Rainbow Serpent. Later, high above on the rocks upstream a black headed snake appears, and further up a wallaby.

Thanks for reading my hairy story.

Yesterday’s Poem Computed and Known
Posted in a Facebook Note Wednesday May 13th 2009:

That it is did

The story in me
Is one I will be
The part of to see
That the dogs have been
Chasing after me
Just like it should be
In my birth place story
But oh what have they got
That they did not
Know who else knew
Of that their majic’s
Isolation grew
For to compute
There is no dispute
For who knew
That the internet do
Might have been white
Of skin to live in
But in blacker men’s love
Than that of the dogs was
What did cause that
The computer is
And in its industry this
Poetry will
Tell you the bill
Of how the Roo
Wrapped up
What no dog did do
For my story is true
That Kangaroo
Who dug the hole
Too deep to solve
But good for drinking
And a whole big mob
The roo family belonged
To that place because
So made it was
Until the dogs
Came along
And chased the roos
Around and a way
All over the country
Now named
Australia and lovely
Until the big boss
Roo man who was
Sad because
His family all gone
Dispersed along
The way of
Taking his story
To every place
And with a dog
Right on his tale
Dived down into
That swimming hole
Of computer technology
He could not solve
But therein with
Was one whom knew
What need do
And so the roo
Arose with fame
Now to his name
A Rainbow Serpent place
These computers need take
Since to be too true
Is how to do
What was the hole
Now well solved
My Emu heart born into
The story of that Roo
By my father’s soul
Will a daughter’s forgiveness
For him to grow old
This gift of a laptop
Was his fatherhood bold
Now straight told
That it is did
Had to unfold
In time to bind
All marriages right
For no more will
It compute to fight
Now that our tribal
Bonds re-pattern right
Well out of sight
And the mystery of
Computing magic real
No thin disguise would you
But no surprise who knew
Since love’s worth has been unto
Who can believe
Every word that is true
Just let real magic’s worth compute
No fighting bird’s majic dispute
But real stories to learn through
Is that there’s been a loan through
Of which no dog did know
And thus Rainbow
Serpent’s sow
Seeds of what will be
What was and could have been
By every use of
Unshielded electricity
Yielded computer industry
By why now though
Took it an Emu to know
And whose secret un-shown
Defines whether crooked or bent
Will computer technology dent
Directions of flow
In our brain chemistry don’t you know
We’re receptive to that electric
But which and for what
We need know how we have got
That a nation’s real blow
On the coat of arms so
That justice will be ours
Is when indigenous stories are how
The world continues now
In heart’s peace feelings use
The computer technology safe
When in no shoes
Was
That the mystery of love did do
Another story too
Of singular cell life forms
Exorcise the computer blues

Posted in a Facebook note Tuesday May 12th 2009:

If a Dream self is too be to be in believed
What will it be anybody can read
Of how words such as these
Come to mind
Indeed

Posted in a Facebook note Saturday April 25th 2009:

Tonight I am thinking like this:
when I am a little girl, not much older than in my facebook photo here, growing up in a white family with indigenous ancestry, but all too afraid to want to know, (intermarriages are way back in the early 1800’s at first contact times, and where I am born in Armidale NSW, black mob today are all from tribes who came from other parts of country originally, and the only mob from my home town who survived were who passed as white, so it is a sad place; but I was not born until after the referendum), well back when I was a little girl, my father is a scientist like now, and we went down to Tasmania for his work. His boss there in Tasmania was the first scientist to predict the greenhouse effect, (but Americans say it is an African scientist, and I don’t know who was first, but it must have been scientists all over the world all around the same day maybe), and I am growing up around my parents friends, who are scientists from many lands: from Pakistan and India and Japan and Thailand and Germany and America and Israel, all over; and most are working to save the environment.

Now, everybody wants to.

In black families, around the same time, everybody is talking in families about how to enable emancipation of human beings.

These two issues are the same one. It is what reconciliation is always about. Letting us all be able to put the whole story back together.

There is not a competition between emancipation of humanity from slavery and saving the environment, it is one story.

I wanted to say here how grateful I am about being born into a story where I witness that social change is possible. My father’s work is always making me see the world around me changing and improving, and the same is true with black people’s stories also. Today more and more white Australians want to be able to be respectful of culture.

Just tonight, here in Brisbane CBD now, two drunk men were going to the casino, and standing near me at the traffic lights, and they wanted to talk, so I told them I am just leaving the university computers, and I study Business and Psychology, and am a sole parent, and they start getting more sober. They ask me what I reckon about the economy, and I tell them true, and they listen good, and take me true.

This is what I want to tell everybody with my story now:
social change is possible;
it is possible with peace in our hearts and minds;
it is possible for social change to creep up on us and just start to manifest around us before we know it; the world is changing now, and we all have to follow our heart to be a part of the positive changes that will save the ecology and simultaneously emancipate our humanity

Life is never more difficult and complex than knowing this

Bad Mood Poem, posted in a Facebook note Friday April 24th 2009:

No More Shoe Way
Upon him today
What can she do
To get through
Will that the tree
Done by a bee
Needed to
But for he

Ant Bonding Poetry Response this:
Posted in a Facebook note Tuesday April 21st 2009:

A Poem for Anybody with Ants in their Pants

Oh the things that they did
And they did them a lot
So now all they have got
Was the whole God awful lot
Of fear of what not
For that they had tried
Was one hell of a bind
For the best of the rest
Of us to have to find
But found out they are
In their foul tethers
Of having been sprouting
Too many feathers
By defining all listeners
To female informers
As though being told
More than is rightful to know
And thereby excusing the menfolk
For what Ants did to women though
And has caused it that this
And that religion ever is
No matter in what guise it
Was to impose upon girl’s guilt
What upon the boys tripped
Yet thereby and therefore
In having prevented true marriage of course
Were the Ants having the habit
Of religious devotion their cause
In having entirely caused
(p.s. suck shit ants, it was already too late before)

Posted in a Facebook note Monday April 20th 2009:

Having Been

Having been policed
By those whom did creep
Up at odd times
Around corners and mines
Through untoward circumstances
Hoping to find
That in isolation from community
I’d be forced into criminality
If not show myself up as
Having been that they bound
Their minds into supposing I’m found
Out to be the guilty
Party in their worst of their time
I think that I’m discovering
Some errors within
How forensic psychologists
Work to their whim
Of considering it right to impose
A whole variety of those
Various possibilities of criminal pose
Without giving the mind options
Of law abidance they say gotcha
That to their suppositions
Did I give in
To their want to
Prove I am dim
In having failed to take on in
The most obvious mistake
Of accusing others
Well into the future
So as to escape
From policing surveillance bakes
As though living on
Assumptions was
The best better bread
And then finding them
The police that is
Accusing me of
Enacting my want
Without men to guide me
I’ll have to point out
I am without any doubt
That by having had me
Throughout police operations
Socially isolated
By policing’s mental allegations
They have forced upon me the route
Of coping alone
Within their assumptions imposed
Upon me I’ve known
By psychometric examination
To be that of men
Thus if less like a girl
I happen to have seemed when
Best let it be shown
It was not on my own
But with the support known
Of ASIO’s adept
And protective
Surveillance
That I’ve been kept unmarried
Did they hope my kinship would bend
While their protection racket managed
Keep me outside of the webs of
How in crime I could have tarried
But would not have wanted of
That policing frustration grew
Finding not what they failed to do
And failing to measure
Me as intellectually gifted treasure
Thus failing to notice
My real coping responses
They projected upon me
As though my want to interact
Was the same as having been wanting
Conformity with
The social status they relegated
Me into instead
Of my real way in the world
Which they continue to fail in
Respect of the values
And comprehensive qualities read
I’d been saddled with
The worst of
Drug addicts and homeless
Prostitutes and rapists
Were those police causes
Had directed me towards
And when I interacted with
Assumed I’d conform
To the same standards as norm
But do you think they could have torn
Me away from my inner storms
In which I have caught
Out that with which policing is fraught
Thus having been
Forced to behave
More like to a male
And accused of what
Would make any girl pale
I think that I’ll give
No further detail
Except police knew
Where I fit into
Their accepted belief in
Intelligence scales
So wonder here will you
With me perhaps
Why it is that
Police expected to prove
Brain damage to have been
All I amounted to
When I announced my belief in
Traditionally Oriented
Aboriginal culture

Posted in a Facebook Note Saturday April 18th 2009:

WARNING: deadly boring serious prose goes here

Just Another White Fellow’s Rhetoric, or Real Belief in Aboriginality: either way, this is an essay about the quest for a true social identity, and is directed toward the audience of those whom I am least likely, and most likely, to share any identity with.

My story is unusual, but not too bad, and here I am telling it as just my own, even though my sons have played a strong role in enabling it, but their stories will be their own, for themselves to tell. Some folk once told me that my story is happening too late, but too late for what I have to wonder, since they were seemingly asserting only that it was too late for me to become far worse than I am.

Having been raised within the cultural paradigm of mainstream Anglo-centric white Australia, in which the stories of Christianity and modern science are ruling, I find myself today, quite unable to take this world, of roads and houses and cars, and all the social etiquettes connected with maintaining any livelihood for accessing the world of roads and houses and cars and city spectacles, at all seriously. It feels like a playground rather than the world of real responsibilities, whenever I engage in the patterns of behaviour which are expected of me, as though it is all just one big silly joke. I am a passive participant in a side show of scandalous innuendo and meaningless beefs about the economy and how to survive in it, wondering what will come next of money and its ridiculous tricks. Yet in many ways my personality is rather too serious. However, within the cultural paradigm of indigenous Australian belief, I do not joke, and neither find this necessity for living in houses in cities, very funny at all. Rather I find it frightening to my sensibilities about what defines reality. But this essay is not about how I made that move, from one cultural paradigm into another, and rather it is a reflection upon what I convey with my social identification, in having made that move.

I have a question to ask of anybody whom is officially identified in modern Australian society, and within government requirements for receipt of government assistance and/or positive discrimination in employment, as an Aboriginal person. It could be a rhetorical question, and I will assume that it is, since I don’t want to have to ask you to answer it, but just want you to know that it is a question that arises often in my mind. (I might also want to add, as a student of Euro-centric type psychology, that you ought not answer without being able to prove to me that you are yourself representative sample of whom I am wanting to ask, and that within my own understanding of indigenous psychology, I will know that any impressions I receive in my dreams from those whom my question is of, are only able to be representative of those to whom I expose a copy of these words I am writing.) My question might be about whether you prefer to be called an Aboriginal person, or an Indigenous person, or Indigenous Australian, Aboriginal Australian, or perhaps just only an Aborigine, like me; however, instead of asking you what words you like the sound of in your own identity, I am going to think about asking you what you want to consider of me, in my identity.

One day I looked in the thesaurus and dictionary in the library and found another word, that is, “autochthon” which can be used interchangeably with words like aborigine, indigenous, and native. Autochthon (sounds like “awe”-“tock”-“thon”) is a noun, as is aborigine, and native, and of those three words, only the word “native” can also be used as an adjective, like “aboriginal” and “indigenous”. The adjective for autochthon, is autochthonical. Why I like to use the word autochthon, is because there is no need to underline that it is a word defining a human being, because its precise meaning is that of being a human whom is born out of the ground, or, from the original Greek stem words, a son of the soil, as born from mother Earth, or arisen from the ground. The words Aboriginal and Aborigine, with a capital “A”, are used in the English dictionary as the only discreet word defining an Australian autochthon, whereas aborigines with a small “a” are from any place, just always defined by being from their place. The word stem “ab” implies that the named individual is, of their own volition, causal to having their original place as their identity. Indigenous is often used as though it is a more polite word to describe a human being with, than Aboriginal, but being indigenous is only the adjective, and so we need then also use another word, like “person” or “human”, to define what we are that is indigenous.

Sometimes I think of myself more as having indigenous totemic affiliations, than of being an indigenous human being, since I am not always truly being very human, only trying to most of the time, and occasionally slipping up into animal mindedness, or then again, perhaps even more like trees when my navigation of the future is at odds with reality. So when I use the word indigenous about myself, I have to think carefully about what exactly it is being applied to about me. In general it feels right to think of myself as indigenous simply because I know that I dream as a wallaby at times, or with Emus, and in the sugar glider. Whereas, saying that I am an Aborigine, feels like I am defining my self-identification pattern as belonging to this land, that is now called Australia.

I belong in my birth place, which is also my mother’s, her mother’s, and her mother’s birth place, and not far away, at my father’s birth place, I belong also. I belong where I have given birth, in two different parts of Australia, neither my own birth place. All four of my grandparents have different birth places, all within New South Wales, like me. The songline I am born into the story of, travels up north west, through the south west corner of Queensland, and on into the Northern Territory, up through Katherine into Top End, and so in those places I also feel like I belong. My Spirit way dreaming story, is another, not the exact one of my birthplace, and its songline is the same one that passes through Uluru, and I dream of life in many places along my song. Always I belong. Some of the places of my song I have been to, but others I have not yet visited, but I want to go there because I dream of many places along the way of my song. In my dreams I am careful about identification, and will always locate myself very exactly, and identify other people in my dreams through how they feel around their own birthplace story, and how they feel in the places I met them in, so my self-identification, and my way of identifying anybody else, is always through song and place. It is how I think, and within my true thoughts, I want to be able to tell anybody who might want to know me, that I am an Aborigine.

Perhaps the reason I want to use the title of being an Aborigine, is because I enjoy causing other people to feel a bit of a shock that they did not know what they were assuming to have known. In many ways, I am just an ordinary white Australian, and my ancestors are also among the invaders of this land. I have no certificate or letter of identity, and the inter-racial intermarriages between my ancestors are not recorded in history. I do not know how many other white Australians are like me, but when I have talked to my friends in white society about my desire to be known as an Aborigine, quite a few could also define themselves as being of Aboriginal ancestry, yet were not inclined to identify. They have stories of Aboriginal ancestors whom were socially identifiable as Aborigines within living memory, and if they sought to, they could probably obtain the necessary certification quite readily, while my own Aboriginal ancestry is so early in the history of Australia’s invasion, that my parents, do not want to believe it could be possible for us to be Aboriginal people, and my Grandparents, might be more unsure, but I know that they have been taught to be very strict about defining any dark skin as Spanish, and black relations as being related by marriage not blood. Who are my indigenous ancestors I wonder? Are they women whom were taken into slavery and prostituted? Are they women who were traded for a bag of flour so as to instigate the action of laws of reciprocal obligation down through the generations? Whomever they are, their love of the land has proven to be the dominant force among all of my ancestry. I did not wake up to their love easily, but through needing to accept many varied, inter-cultural stories of many lands, all mixed up like any old mongrel among my ancestry, yet never without a strength of mind in affiliating my nature within traditional Aboriginal culture. Even as a very little girl, being raised totally outside of indigenous society, I knew of myself that my fascination with Aborigine’s stories is a real part of who I am.

Do I need to know, within the historic records of the invading culture, who my Aboriginal ancestors have been, so as to say in the open in today’s Australia, that I am an Aborigine? That I am what I cause myself to become, and that, at cause, I am born out of this land, where I belong in origin, no matter what name this land is being called now. Do I need your permission, you who are everybody who is officially identified as an Aboriginal person, to know that my dreaming will not let me attune with any different way of identifying my nature, than to say that I am an Aborigine. In having already given back into the black community, what worth I could access alone and an unmarried mother, from the dreaming of my white ancestry, within the following surnames, and their stories: Marker; Giles; Lewis; Anderson; Page; Raynor; Burnham; Barnes; Martin; Boulton; Moore; Hammond; Prout; Morris; McCartney; Wilkenson; Ettinger; Deitrich; Schweikert; Klotz; Kallinikos; Raftopoulos; Amarantos; Norris; Skinner; Brown; Wheeler; Arch; McNeven; McDonald; Copas; West; Carroll; Cherry; Harrop; and Bazeley; and in having been formally defined within traditionally oriented culture, as a blood relation among desert Emu people, I wonder what may be still required of me to find that my way of belonging will have a social space. True my ancestors include English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh, German, Greek, and Jew, as well as Aborigines from Australia too. My real inheritance therefore includes, among many other dreams, a culturally appropriate, within traditionally oriented culture, mode of learning the skills of reading and writing, by the transmission of the supporting stories about how and why books come to exist, and because I at all times, work with the best of what is among all of my ancestry, and my ancestor’s stories equitably include those known as belonging to “the people of the book”. An Emu story now. This fact is not lost to the traditionally oriented Emu families whom have adopted me within blood way bonds, by having noticed that my dreaming, and sensibility to reciprocity, fit within Emu clan story, and so I still have to stop and wonder at times, why there are Aboriginal people whom have wanted to ridicule and deny any person like me whom might want to identify, when the ridiculous denial is already proven to be no more than a sign of the loss of cultural integrity. For those whom are afraid to let me be identified as an Aborigine, only out of fear of further cultural loss, what I have to say is that I do not make your cultural adherence less through my own cultural adherence, but rather I know how to increase and consolidate the cultural adherence of all those whom I am in Kinship with, and that is why I have identified.

What I believe of the basis of my way of openly identifying my Aboriginality, is in part, that nobody would be crazy enough to want to openly identify, after their ancestors having passed as white for as long as mine have, if not for sound reason, because it is a hard road to travel. It is a hard way to define myself as a responsible human being, in a society where everybody assumes that such an identity comes along with special government assistance that I and my children are not in receipt of, and furthermore, many folk assume that having this identity as a person with white skin, is a mark of some sort of criminality beyond what any darker skin person is allowed to be socially branded with these days without those whom applied the branding becoming known as racists. It is hard because my family are all still working too hard at passing as white to want to know me, or to have listened to my story about what has caused me to begin to want to identify as a believer in indigenous culture. It is hardest of all, because of having had to work hard at unravelling the ways of mind of my European ancestors, but surely, in having achieved the goal of having proven within my own psychology, that indigenous culture can subvert and dominate every other cultural paradigm within my experience and ancestry; in having proven that it is our indigenous way that will eventually assimilate the invasion, since that is the process occurring already within my own biology; surely I have earned the ability to name what I am, and within the unnamed hardships connected with these processes, the truth is that I have no capacity to regret having named that I am an Aborigine. The social costs have been enormous, as have the financial losses, yet to have regained, for my children, real cultural integrity, is worth it. So I wonder at times, while I consider myself an Aborigine, and indigenous, and an autochthon, and native, what am I in your mind, and if it is less than I have achieved in real life, what does that prove about your own cultural belief? But most of the time, I am simply too polite to ask. I need not ask normally either, since any indication that your opinion of my basis for identification, is less than real, has always been opposed in strength by those whose dreams provide me with a consolidated true regard for my Aboriginality of heart, body, and spirit.

Thus, even when none of us could be bothered with naming me, or anybody like me, as indigenous within the political sphere, my truth does not go away, or diminish itself. Many folk might have expected that the general attitude among the modern indigenous Australian population, might be one of wanting to show up anybody who claims to have indigenous ancestry, and whom has not endured equitable hardship to those families whom were placed under the Aboriginal Protection Board, as fraudulent, yet I do not expect that Aborigines really want to force one another to prove how badly oppressed we have been as though our oppression defines our identity, and rather I will assume, that because, having to re-orient into a traditional cultural paradigm, when it is a black dominated cultural paradigm, and the nation state is a white dominated paradigm, has to be done as a long term commitment, and not just a temporary fanciful concern, that therefore, it is correct for those Aborigines whose ancestry could never have been in doubt, to be oriented towards being suspicious of somebody like me. Maybe one day, when I have been saying that I am an Aborigine for long enough that nobody can doubt me, because there is to be no route back into the mainstream for me, suspicion will be less around why I have wanted to tell that I am an Aborigine. The truth is, that I see around me often, many Aboriginal people, whose lives are seemingly filled with temporary fanciful concerns about things like owning the right sort of clothing to fit into mainstream society, paying for having cars, and less fanciful concerns also, like negotiating with the police about how to be allowed to sustain peaceful lifestyles while being obviously black and obviously indigenous, but nevertheless participating within the mainstream, and other facts of life such as preventing the greenhouse effect. A myriad of more and less serious concerns that were not relevant before 1788, but today, are being integrated into playing a part in how cultural traditions are maintained. The lives of ‘modern-officially-known-to-be-Aboriginal’ Australians, might be somewhat similar to the lives of those of my own ancestors whom were among the first generations produced by inter-racial intermarriages between Australian Aborigines and British invaders, except that today’s fears are greater, while my ancestors intermarried at a time when what is now called snail mail, happened by horse drawn carriage, and was the fastest way of enabling the sort of communication over large distances that is empirically provable to third parties.

My story might not be especially relevant for most people, except that I find in myself, a key understanding about what it means to be an Australian. Contrary to what some folk have expected of me, I do not believe in much worth in, or want for, many other white fellows like me, becoming able to suddenly start to claim to have been just as hard done by as black fellows, and that is not my claim either, because my own hardships are often, though thankfully not always, self imposed. Perhaps a few more white Australians like me will identify their innate Aboriginality one day, but it will not be for a hand out, and rather it will be so as to sustain our integrity and that of our children’s future. It cannot be sustained without true respect for indigenous people and culture, and demands a rigorously imposed self discipline. Thus it is that I claim that my life has become harder, not because I am hard done by, but because of being willing to accept the impositions of unwanted hardships, so as to be able to call myself an Aborigine. I know hardships that are imposed by my will to prove that I am capable of relearning cultural integrity, and therefore, imposed by a lesson in following the heart song of our dreaming, and enabling a spirit teaching way, to bend itself through the paths and ways of the dominant cultural paradigm, and pick up the threads of real lessons in how not to need to bend so very far. Not all indigenous families need to go the way that my family has taken, because without those whom did not need to intermarry, how could we now turn the story of this land around again, and join causes to steer every citizen in the direction of real belief in land.

Within my story, how I countenance having the dual identity of being a white Australian and being an Aborigine, is by having travelled to faraway lands, and there having noticed that almost every white Australian believes in them self in a pattern of belief which is unique to Australia, and within which there are strong threads woven by our common ancestors with black Australians. I mean to say here, that Aboriginal Australia has already long been doing a very fine job of assimilating the invaders and their invasion, and that if I had not witnessed strong evidence of such an inevitable outcome throughout the course of my life, and until after I had witnessed enough of such evidence, it could not have been conscionable for me to begin to openly state my own Aboriginality. So when I say that I am an Aborigine, it is a statement of wanting to stabilise how all Australians orient into an understanding of what Aboriginality is all about. I do not expect that my white face will ever be likely to be woken up to as the face of Aboriginal Australia, but that having white faces among all the faces of Aboriginal Australia, can arouse in the mainstream, more sensible, and less frightened, feelings of curiosity about how to honour the worth of Aboriginal Australia.

Of all the false assertions which have been made to me, about why I might have wanted to identify that I am an Aborigine, I have a few responses. It is not about being assumed to be a criminal because I have white skin but have adopted a black dominated identification pattern, and it is about stating that the vestiges of ancient culture are alive and well in my white family of origin, despite my parents not wanting to recognise that fact. It is not about any way of undermining the strength of integrity necessary to be sustaining clear social identifications with marsupial dreaming and other indigenous species, and neither is it about branding Aboriginality as only being defined by totemic affiliations, but it is about opening the way for the nature of animist cultural belief, to become what defines humanity in mainstream social contexts also, by defining empirically what we are that is not our humanity. It is about remembering that my father taught me to respect myself, by taking me to the backyard of one of his childhood friends, where there is a zoo full of native animals who had been rescued, by asking a friend to bring his reptiles to my preschool, by cautioning me about the snake I sat on at another of his friend’s houses, and by always showing me what wildlife he can see, as well as by teaching me from within his modern science oriented mind, about what he made his PhD about. My father is a Doctor of Philosophy by having written a thesis called “NMR studies”, in which he did the original foundational research, subsequently replicated in America, for what has become the magnetic resonance imaging machinery used in hospitals. I think that his work needs to be known as his social contribution to what defines Aboriginal Australia, and therefore, despite his own lack of cultural knowledge, lack wisdom to want it, and lack of social capacity to have made re-connection with indigenous Australia, I will continue to demonstrate in my own life, that what exists of my father’s integrity, is essentially aligned with his innate Aboriginality.

So somehow, among all these observances in me, and through my sensibility to how overtly I lack any clear social identification within the mainstream society, I just simply woke up one day to a feeling that I need to start talking about being indigenous. The first time I told anybody exactly how certain I am about being an Aborigine, rather than just join in on the hushed over innuendo common enough among my white peers, was during the ceremonial events that included performances of songs and dances by traditionally oriented Aborigines, at the opening of the National Museum of Australia, and it was my children whom I told. My children deserve the truth, and deserve to know themselves, not as just another bloody whitey, but as inheritors of the grandeur, the obligations, and love, of the strongest surviving cultural tradition in the world today.

Yet within this strong culture and its way of identification, what is the face of the evidence I am here presenting? It is that my orientation towards wanting to be known as an Aborigine, is not a negative desire but a positive one, within which I might not ever be able to expect that it will be given to me, but can anticipate needing to earn my social status in every of its contexts. Those contexts which will not enable my identification as an Aborigine, are, simply put, all non-Aboriginal contexts. Furthermore, I would not be adhering to Aboriginal culture if I held myself, and other Aborigines, in any less regard than to proceed with caution, and insist upon anybody like me, whom is returning into real cultural tradition, to have to prove themselves at every turn. It is nothing less than what is anticipated of every person born into the real indigenous tradition. Learning any of the keys of culture is always oriented into proving one has already assimilated the lesson before, and thoroughly integrated it into one’s behaviour. Therefore, while I might want to have been asking the opinions of other Aborigines, as to how everybody else perceives me, I know in my true heart, that even so much as to ask, would be to take that step out of our cultural tradition, by putting somebody on the spot in having asked them a question. Therefore my quest for a social identity, is something I must undertake alone, without resorting to loans from other families.

Sure enough a few Aborigines have told me to be careful not to openly identify around specific others among the total Aboriginal population, but in instructing me thus, were not denying my own Aboriginality, and rather forewarning me of the nature of a communal difficulty. While ever my real experience, is of being most overtly socially accepted by those persons with the very blackest of skin, and within the most well defined adherence to cultural tradition, I am at peace within myself in my internal acknowledgement of myself being an Aborigine, and have also an understanding of the patterns and processes, by which the mainstream Anglo-dominant culture, seems to be always trying to assimilate indigenous culture, but that in fact, it is quite the reverse, and it is we Aborigines whom are the assimilators. But that pattern of our assimilation and the subversion of the dominant paradigm, happens over a number of generations, and from the inside of some of which generations, it is less discernable than from within others. To put myself bluntly, even knowing that within Aboriginal culture it is rude to ask direct questions, as it is rude to ask often within my own family also, I may have wanted to ask, and have often been allowed to if that was what I really wanted, but it is only by not asking to be identified, and rather asserting myself within this identity, that I prove it within Aboriginal culture, that I am an Aborigine.

Just to make this all the more clear, since I live in a city, and am still a long way yet from having returned into a fully tribal hunter gatherer lifestyle, I will satisfy any curiosity about how far I have managed to relearn the real cultural traditions of indigenous Australia, with a little of one of my many well dreamed in stories. Once I was in Alice, and before going there, I had been thinking about all the modern health education about diet, which the government pays for, so as to hopefully prevent diabetes in Aboriginal communities. I thought about how, at first contact, the foods which invaders gave, of tea, flour, sugar, and then also the grog, even as it is used in communion in Churches, are problematic, and so I wondered about the wisdom of everybody whom continues to consume these foods. What I thought of, is that those foods were, at least given within the context of the story of the Bible, and within that context, even when the priests and missionaries did not know it, they could not have avoided communicating some of the necessary dreaming story that accompanies the gift of food, so within their use of something as simple as the Lord’s Prayer, they made what they gave have a culturally appropriate way about how to eat and to manage it. I thought about traditional owner and manager relationships around food. I wondered if I could take with me to Alice, a food, which I have been given the right story for myself, and give its story to share, within the right dream way, so that it too can be recognised and eaten in a culturally appropriate way. I gave to a few old women buckwheat, with the story about how it had been first given to me, by a Russian, and it worked out well, and in return I have received stronger dreaming about why it is important not to eat certain foods, depending on clan affiliations.

In this context, I use English words like in the desert, with the English word “owning” being for describe the foods (and all other flora and fauna and geology) that we might be quite rightly afraid of turning into, and have ownership responsibilities for the dreams of, and ought not eat, while the English word “managing” is for the foods of which we are obliged to look after the species which provides of itself as food, and the places that such flora and fauna inhabit, and in return are allowed to eat, but which a different clan will be the owners of. This system of owning and managing, worked in very tight friendships, is integral to Aboriginal traditions, and while I know of examples in the modern context, of those whom want to repudiate that their own heritage included this sort of arrangement, I also know that at least some of those individuals are truly quite frightened about not having been adhering to this aspect of culture. It is a pattern which can have application to every aspect of the material world, from money, to computers, to cars, houses, and backyard gardens. We just need to figure out who owns and who manages. I will tell you, that how I am dreaming about food, makes me a very cautious gardener, and that I always only grow plants which I have received a true story for. I have noticed that I grow and cook best with those foods which are of species that are not able to be affiliated with the Emu clan, and always prefer to access plants for my garden, through being given the actual roots from friends or neighbours. I enjoy gardening at Northey Street City farm, here in Brisbane, and will only eat from a small selection of all those plants there I could grow. There are specific foods which I will not grow and eat, even though they were given to me, simply because I cannot remember my own dreams so well if I eat of, among which are such things as carrots, coriander, and parsnips, for example. So if I cook an Indian curry, I will be making my own curry powder without any coriander in it, and if I have dreamed of a carrot, and its seeds come my way, I might hide it away with care, keeping a very careful eye on all of, and show only to somebody who will manage those dreams well for me, leaving it to their conscience whether or not to sow the seed, but I certainly do not think of a dream of a carrot as a dream of food.

And not long after I went to Alice, and I had begun to experiment with the foods I had always been given to eat, to find out more about how food effects my physiology, I heard a story that I already knew. Hearing and thinking about this story has helped me to be able to discern what plants I own and what I manage. The story is an Alice version of the same story that I first learned in the version from the coast of Western Australia, near the region called Pilbara. It is the story of the seven sisters, and when I heard it again, I realised that I had been dreaming in its pattern when I set off for Alice. The part I will tell here, goes like this: There are seven sisters travelling. The oldest and the youngest have fallen behind their sisters, and two younger men have been chasing them with a spear. The oldest sister has a dilly bag around her neck with her special women’s business magic in it, and one day, she needed to ask the youngest sister to look after it. The youngest sister strings it around her neck and promises not to take it off for anybody. But then she goes for a swim, and she is worried that she might lose the dilly bag in the water, so she takes it off and leaves it on the river bank. In my dream, I took of my gold bracelet and left it inside a brown cardboard box on an embankment with trees growing on it, above a highway, and I walked along the highway with somebody I met on the way to Alice, and in the dream we are looking for housing, but then I was worried and feeling guilty, came back alone. While the youngest sister is swimming, one of the men comes and steals the older sister’s dilly bag. The oldest sister returns, and the youngest sister is very sad telling her what has happened, but the oldest sister says that the magic in the dilly bag will be safe enough, because old magic has its own way of sorting itself out and returning itself safely to its owner. In my dream I come back and find that the bracelet is all in pieces and the cardboard box has been rearranged, but I begin to find the gold all scattered around. I won’t tell you what I did with my gold bracelet the day of that dream, and any day after, but I will tell you that now I have three gold bracelets, a few more bags, clothes, and another of everything I took with me to Alice. It was eventually in paper, similar to the cardboard box I put the bracelet into, that the stolen story began to multiply, which is good news for reforestation since although money can’t entirely grow on trees, the paper for receipting it with can, so we had best begin to plant trees if we are going to be writing out any receipts. In fact, my words, when printed on paper, have often had a strange way of disappearing, and then returning to me. The sisters are being chased by the men who eventually turned into wallabies, and at the edge of the Australian continent where there are some rocks marking the place, the seven sisters arose into the sky and are the constellation of Peladies.

(Friday April 17th 2009)

Since

Since what money done
I could not the whole sum
Alone and unmarried
With children and nearly
The might of the state
About what was nigh fate
Bearing down on my plate
And without the whole sum
Of my own worth to have know
What my will shall be showing
Was it that I took on
The internet and strong
Have I not done it wrong
But as the means and method of
If with belief real in one God
Defining the dreaming
In the parts folk were thieving
That the folk who’ve used
To steal and through shoes
Since I’ve paid far too much
Upon what my foot knew
When bear footed will do
So for all folk who through
Computers were going to
Achieve their own goals
But without willing who
Blessed be that real will is
That they thus through
These things called computers
Whenever supposing to do
What only one alone can
I’m afraid for the fact
In having worked it all out
How the dog’s day was at
This strange way to compute
How well worked and astute
Need anybody become by
Their own self defined sums
When without having awakened
Despite the way being shaken
With the fear of many years and
The burning fires of hell’s lives
Which I’ve walked through to do
This that the computer will to
Who you if unto
The computing technology do
That no real believers can you
Become shown up in what
You through computers too
Supposed to have got
And thus
In money’s sum
I guess if left single the gun
Will the global economy
Continue to bum
Its way through
Into downturn upon downturn
Until no more profit can new
Yet if marriage becomes true
All over the world too
And the trees are renewed
Then please do
And the internet through
For just a bit more
Worth has the economy for

Wednesday, April 8, 2009 at 7:52pm

This is how I been thinking:

When we have two or more cultures, then our memory cues, belong to two or more sets of stories. That is, what parts of all the things of the world we are witness to, in the world of solid living matter, and also the world of Dream way matter, the things we are witness to, have among, some parts which are like a trigger, that causes our mind to slip through into the next part of a story. It all happens in the bio-chemistry of the neurones (brain cells: are of three groups, in the head for thinking, in the spine for moving and not moving, and in the abdomen and alongside the spine for feeling pleasure versus pain: but also, among each of those three sets of brain cells, some are called white, and others are called grey, because the white ones have another cell wrapped around like insulation which makes the messages travel faster), and there are loops between the cells, and the stories go around and around in the loops of brain cells.

So when we have two or more cultures, perhaps some of those loops are getting in a tangle. What happens then, is that for some people, they get an idea of how to escape from being held accountable, because in one loop of one culture, a story lets something be alright, even when not in another culture, and so they move from easiest loop to easiest loop all the time, and wind up in too big trouble. But for everybody who still understands that we have to be kept accountable inside the WHOLE SET of rules of every culture we are learning in, then, there are more rules, and more and more and more, and more ways of needing to hold ourselves and each other into a strong framework of accountability.

Some folk end up being almost unable to move at all, because their mind is too much opened. Other mob do it different and make themselves feel more able to get around in everybody’s place, but their minds are closing down big shop.

I feel like I am turning into too many trees.

So that must be alright since the planet sure needs more trees.

(and Jesus said like him in death as well as life, and he carried a lot of wood that day)

But there is a part of law here also, I am needing to be telling.
The memory cues, in the loops in our brain, that trigger us into remembering how to be accountable, and to remember what part of the story comes next, those are like a passageway that opens, between finer density particles of matter that are vibrating faster, and denser particles that are vibrating very slow. Memory cues, or triggers, are like a place where one loop, or circuit in the brain, meets another one safe way, and lets law story move from dreaming into talking, and lets talking move into dreaming. Sometimes also, in culture, we learn about places where no movement can happen between up and down, so there are parts of the story from out in the world of solid density matter, that never could ever have been let get up into finer matter. Different parts of dreaming way also are not coming down, at one time or another, depending on what the outside story is now.

The rules that every culture has about what sort of things get to move between up and down, between less dense and more dense particles of matter, are important, and we need all be obedient to.

So think about this: if we let a definition of any biological fact, have movement into a higher finer density sort of pattern, (for example, a story about a person with red hair, that happens in the world, if it becomes a dreaming way, what will happen about how we define red hair in our dreaming, unless the red hair part is left out of the story); then we have to think about what else might move through that same passage way, or memory-trigger/mental-cue, or join between two or more loops in the brain’s circuitry. What are we letting happen through how we let culture’s join?

My father gave me a dream for this, and then I got another dream, about the dream my father gave me, and that is right way law to be allowed to tell this story, of what the first dream he gave me is.

My father teaches in dreaming, that when we learn a fact in our mind, by dreaming it, then everything we learn about because we have that fact inside our mind, needs to stay in the dreaming, and we are not allowed to let it get out into the world of solid matter if we only ever learned it in dreams without a lesson already from in the world of solid matter. He teaches that if we have knowledge in us, and there is nothing in the world that is corroborating our knowledge, even if we are so totally certain of what we know, we cannot make our knowledge out, not until we find a part of the outside world that is already having the same knowledge in it. He teaches that the things of the solid matter world, need to stay down, and not move up into dreaming, and the dreams we have, also might not need to begin to come real, that is, not unless, or until, there is a real place in the world for that, and not until we have the dream of making our dreams have a place in the world. That is how culture is working.

OK, so now think of this:
If in a dream there is a way of naming a phenomenon that has a hierarchy, like a hierarchy of who is a leader and who is a follower, or a hierarchy of interdependence, or a hierarchy of what eats what; a hierarchy of who is boss and who is manager: then the words that we use to name who is who in our minds in dreams, need to be real to the world of solid density definitions and names, if we are going to let those dreams show up in the outside solid world of observable facts.

So what happens if we use a name like “Blue” for a person with orange hair? Is it true or not?

Now apply the same reasoning to thinking about how we have all been defining culture as white or black.

Perhaps there are words for saying how we might be dreaming in different patterns from one another, that are not also words used to define a biological difference??? But I never learned any polite English words for the sorts of different ways we dream.

Now my point is real. It always had real law supporting how I am thinking and dreaming, but now law dreaming is coming down making its point more real.

What happens if we let words in dreams, come down onto paper, without having the right meaning in the world of solid matter?

If we want to make the world of solid matter, with solid pieces of paper that have legislation written down, become supportive of traditional culture, then its words need be real in every density of matter.

Thing is, it is a hard law to be obedient to, unless everybody in our mob is always obedient to it; but whenever we are being obedient to this part of law, we have the upper hand over everybody who is not, and that is almost the whole rest of the Earth’s population.

Perhaps we got caught up in pretending that we did not need to be compliant and obedient with this part of true law, but sometimes just got to going to have to un-pretend

(then there are three comments I left about my note, as afterthoughts to the matter, first at 10:25 am))

I have to comment on my own note now, because I remember another part of the story of the difference between white matter and grey matter in our brains, that is useful to know; it is not quite as simple as that the white matter is the unconscious mind and the grey matter the conscious. We can be either conscious or unconscious of either set of processes.

In the white matter we think how we dream. Anybody who has used psycho-active substance, will get how this is different, since how those drugs work is by making us remember the white matter function, however, they also kill off the protective cells insulating the white matter, and can turn white matter into grey matter, that slows down, and brings outside, parts of our conscious mind that are best left inside.

(adding on here later now, at July 1st 2009, it strikes me to include the further data that Brisbane based brain tissue scientists have recently found real evidence in rats of neural tissue regenerating itself, so there is hope for every addict yet, because the only way to cope with a brain which has perceived its inner world in the grey matter, is to work to earn making the best of one’s perception real, and the worst non-existent: but the note comment continues:)

In the grey matter, however, we each have a story that is the story our biology can remember our own mind best within. It is that story that nobody can give to a person, but we each have to find our own true one.

(comment two I made on me at 10:30 am April 9th 2009)

When we have our own true story, that we are sure of being our own about, and are committing ourselves to keep our mind in that story all the time, then our memory works best.

The neurological cues, or triggers, can be unconscious or conscious, and it is when we are relying on cues of our proper real story, that we begin to remember everything else going through our brain. Our real story, the one our biology defines us as having inherited through the mother’s side, (not father’s clan stories, which can be even more real in a Spirit way, but here I am talking about body and being in the world way), is the story that always will have the cues and memory triggers that enable us to prevent our body from forgetting everything we are witness to, both outside in the world, and inside the mind.

We use our memory capacity in our true story, to monitor every other story we have become entangled with. And this is how we stabilise our grey matter processes all the time.

(further info you might like to know here, is that the body story we get born into, of our birth place and maternal ancestry, is only one of three types of Karma, which means essentially that our body is in and of itself a vessel for storing our Karma, which is sort of like being blood, and there are two further sorts of Karma, related indeed to lymph and cerebrospinal fluid, which refer to how we navigate our feelings and intelligence mind through the process of defining which of our negative consequences to accept when: when the birthing mother choose to delay her pain with an epidural, her cerebro-spinal fluid was drained; when she chooses to go through it now, before she is holding her baby, she is instilled with contemplating why love is real, . . . but really, sure, it’s all just your Karma man, your Karma)

Last comment at 10:36am April 9

When we become totally adept at recalling every grey matter process that has been going on inside our brain, (that is called “self-remembering”, or like in the Bible, following the call to “know thyself”, and in our way, it is called being a true fellow); then, after that, when we are sure about whether anything in mind, is something that was already in our mind before now, or is something else, something we do not know, either bad way or good, either caused by the environment and its people, or by our own activity, then, when we are sure of what we already know, so we are sure of what we do not already know, then, it is safe to let the white matter brain cell processes also come out into the real outside world. The white matter brain cells, carry the inside story of dream way being, and when we are very sure that all the external influences that are not the true story, are accounted for in memory, then it is safe to use the grey matter remembering function for remembering subconscious processes, which are actually the higher consciousness of a human being, or the animal mind, or whatever sort of nightmares of what we might get turned into, are actually already happening in the entire population’s collective subconscious.

Wed Dec 3 2009:

Catching up with an article at http://greensmps.org.au/content/media-release/teaching-indigenous-languages-important-greens just today, has me thinking about how well considered continental Europeans are towards indigenous language speakers, by comparison to most English speakers. A part of the way in which the French have such a strong cultural influence in Europe, and also in over English speaking cultures, is through their cautious way of emphasising the need to learn whatever language is local to where we are now, and thus also their insistence on speaking French when in France. Thus the French are always more respectful of every Australian whom is capable of being respectful towards this country’s own language sounds.

Just the other day on a train, I happened to be listening to young German women, speaking about learning foreign languages at school, and realised how very important being bi-lingual and multi-lingual is in the majority of European countries. The Germans were also responsive to the fact that the English usage patterns of a group of Indigenous youth who got on the same train, are very different from the sounds in English as they had learned to speak (they were talking about having had to read Shakespeare in High School English lessons). The level of respect that many Europeans can openly exhibit towards Indigenous Australian language use, needs to be used to engage us all in feeling shame about our over-emphasis on Standard Australian English.

There is already curriculum developed at Flinders in South Australia, for High School LOTE lessons to work towards the re-integration and recovery of Indigenous languages, and there are Catholic Monks in Western NSW working with primary school children in Catholic education, towards recovery of Gamilaroi language.

Shame on every Australian politician and beaurocrat who is not able to prioritise the reintegration of indigenous languages into the whole of the modern Australian population, and equally shame on every Australian whom has failed to realise that many Aboriginal people sustain specific portions of the vocabulary of ancestral language usage, even in the heart of every Australian town and city. Certain things just can’t be spoken in English words, whilst sustaining an indigenous outlook.

Any governing body whom fails to realise could potentially be blamed for the continuation of the cultural assimilation policies of the past, which we are all so very sorry about, and so it is about time Australians all wake up to the fact of the enormous cultural treasure which our original languages are, and stop the blame game around Aboriginal business. The environment could only benefit, as will any Australian be culturally enriched, by our government being supportive of indigenous language usage.

Thursday Nov 6th 2008:

Level playing field
No direction not yeild
No weapon to weild
Of culture health and good breed
Nothing on blame upon
No excusing one’s own wrong
Without losing the feel
Of economic steel
Up drunk upon
The bleeding socialist finding
Founded begun binding
Bound won of
Forth with set up of course
Had a dream also my self this cause
Of realising now first time how
Family been blamed into
Blaming me around
Words I’d prefer not to give sound
Not us whose be of
But that the first was
Of blaming cultural cause
To excuse leveling games upon
Thus did the frame
They upon my mob blamed
Narrow down the game
For framing the framed were framers lame
Was always their game
And mine that the same
Proves culture to sustain
Even in white blood’s brains

Sunday October 19th:

Thinking about why Australian singers and musicians need to become able to perform like Americans, within American cultural patterns, just to earn enough money to have music as their job. It is hurting us all and hurting our culture and sense of what is right and wrong for children, how the American way shows. Women especially, if being singers and musicians, have to show up too bad, to earn money through America, and then Australians reckon those women are all no good.

So then I wonder about how Americans judge Australians wrong, and about how all Aussies, tend to become easily tricked by the bad ones among Americans. American negotiation sequences are different in how it shows up who is the good guys, than ours are. The bad guys of American culture, are the ones who Australians most often first want to trust, but then, after that, we can become more adept and picking up on how they are still tricking all the good Americans; so long as we can pull ourselves up out of that fall. This is what happened to me, through making friends with a good enough American family when 11, and then a very bad, but peace-making style of American family, when 12. It was a long time before I caught them red-handed at causing fights so they could claim to be the peacemakers, and perhaps I could not have noticed how sneaky they were, if I did not have another American friend. Also having an Irish story for the father of my children helped to show up those Americans, by how they were together. Americans act like they are all in the Emu family. But to them, Aussies are all filthy watery snakes.

I made this poem out of something I wrote today, and pieces of other poetry I posted to an American who teaches in psychology and a combination of a native American tradition with a Sufi tradition. The poem is not exactly in time right, but true all the same:

One Dreaming
As Written for Americans to Believe In
Australian Forged Believing
In Reforestation Trust
Who am I
When all that I am
Is that I have and can
Be taking a gamble
On changing the patterns
Of how lives are bounded
Within time’s stories well rounded
By moving along now this day
Changing my place
Wondering to be
Will live authentic
In life’s fast lane
A walk down the street
Into the garden
Of hearing a Salvation Army band
Swing out a tune to this land
To “Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord”
For this day his day long found
And here with me that I am
The world I live in is changing as it can
That when surrendering my being
To the Lord’s real meaning
The Earth’s providence is constant
In miracle exquisite coincidence
Each moment alive
Long dreamed of before this
That we know forever is
Eternity’s
Yet ahead of the many
My footsteps will following
Those of my King
Long now already been
Preparing for this
That I know all my life
Indebted to his
To end every Earthly garden
In surrender to bliss
Be that who I am
Thus no true real question
But of what to have I surrendered
In identities remembered
This answer sought which
You who are might learn of too far
By surrender to its
Perfect patterns of changes
As we get about our daily business
When off the city street
Into the shop walked my feet
Telling the shop’s assistant
I actually came in here
To buy a needle not dear
Yet finding my words ringing so clear
Must ponder the meaning of fear
When expense equates with
Being dear
For in my own worth
Is always poverty near
This material world of its
Stitches that clear
Away through the tears
Of who I am to know
Forever is certain below
While released into life’s show
Of work proving humanity
Be not my foe
And may more than only know
But become behaviourally
All that life needs us to be
Whatever we dream
And whatever the fact
Of what culture believed at
My own life no secular world that
Yet nevertheless has no need
To open religious belief
But by deed
For every public context must
Accept Earth’s stories thus
Identity is not our religion
But the cover taken from exposing
What real belief will seed
For identity’s spiritual self be the trees
In every moment we breath
Not living true to
All that we know life means
Yet to name me name it Rebekah
For identity must be
And what is my identity but me
And who I am is nothing not far
Unless who I am is that which be
What my mother birthed that I am
And my father named as
Rebekah a title for what
Me as the living creature
Sentient believer
Perceiving the world’s weaknesses
That I am becoming of
Just simply so bland
That I am what I am
Perceiving we are in identity’s dreaming
All what we live being
For identity is what being can
Achieve and
Not who we are when truly believing
And if we are to be human
We must
Become what humanity means to us
Which is why we must
Identify with the trees or bust
In every moment of knowing
What it is to be human
Without so perfectly being
In every constituted instant still breathing
Of reality of mind
Without thought to its total worth in time
Without having yet realised
The consequentiality of the find
In expenses to pay for modern life being
No discounted world to our feeling
Yet transposing forever in dreams
Into the future with reality to see
Thus the gift of a book about me
One poet’s subconscious reality
Turned inside out by words falling out
Of the caricatures of nine types
Of ways we might have
Failed to remember because of
Social conditioning to lack trust in
All that loves shows us
Of Earth’s mighty providence
Will we love equally
Live down below as
Loving the heavens above
For dependent upon us
Receiving love through us
Is all life below us
Thus defining our own receipt
Of love from above
When long gone is the day
And hope for a way
Of nothing gone wrong fey
For love’s will today
The ills of the world with to play
To reconcile into
Redefine and combine with until
Transpositions of misconstrued time
Our lives all as animals defined
Once correctly perfectly aligned
As not already what a forest grows from
Those animals to inhabit of
Life’s will to learn how
To remember
Never forgetting one meaning
Here and now
In this paradox of luck
Will one’s humanity be enough
To sow the seeds of eternal love
That being born human
Is the blessing of perfect trust

Tuesday Oct 14

Today I was wondering about what songlines are at Memphis, since Sedric is often posting words from that place.

I wondered if Memphis might have one song the same as like one which an old T.I. man, John Nawakie, sung me.

My own birth songline at Armidale NSW, I know is also in N.Z. and Collaranabri, and up Tenant Creek way, and in Katherine. At Armidale is a plateau, and at the edges are BIG waterfalls, and the forests are all Heritage listed internationally for being a dry rainforest. There is a camp where many tribes would gather, but by Federation it was already a white fellows picnic site, and now is inside a national park.

When I travelled to Armidale up the McLeay River valley, from Kempsey, through Bellbrook, (where a Mission had been, and there is a Koori woman called Diane Roberts, from it, whose father was the last fully tribal Dungatti man, and now Diane Roberts runs the Minimbah Aboriginal Primary School in Armidale, which started as the Mission pre-school at Armidale Mission camp, where my God-mother was the first pre-school teacher), (but my mother’s family are part more Gamilaroi than Dungatti), and on that road, after Bellbrook, I saw four black goannas, each one smaller than the one before, and then the road turned more corners, and went down again, before going up a part white fellows call Big Hill. At the top is a red bellied black snake on the road, and further along were rare rock wallabies. My songline is also like at Top End a part is, and in Indonesia, Calcutta, and Albania, (its recent famous person is Mother Theresa), (and it also has travel in England and Iceland), and its tune is like Amazing Grace.

A few weeks ago I was having two no-good-for-me songs stuck in my head, like one Paul McCartney sung, and like that Scottish New Year time singing, but Old John Nawakie sung me again, and him and our daughter (in my Brisbane street people’s black way family), Ruby, (who sleeps in Parks and sells Art and sings her true song in City places), took those tunes away from me, and I gave everybody a story from the middle east about a man who gets out of gaol.

A true story, like this: A man is locked up, and his wife brings him a prayer rug she has woven. He prays often enough. One day, he notices that the pattern she wove into the prayer rug is like the lock on his prison cell door. He calls the guards and makes a deal. They bring him tools and wires and he makes trinkets for them. They sell the trinkets and keep the money. He uses the tools. He has enough left over to make a key. He makes it to the pattern of the inside of the lock woven into the prayer rug. The key opens the door.

John Nawakie is who introduced me to Ivan Dick. (who is whose daughter got related to Sedric in facebook) John belongs in the White Crane Clan of Thursday Island.

Comment:
Now I have a dream that I have to add this comment also. That the story of Innana from ancient Sumer, (that part of the world where agriculture is older, where wheat comes from, in the middle east, between the Tigress and Euphrates rivers, but it has been given many names, that region, and the part called Sumer, is not all of that area), also belongs in my same songline I am born at; and also, Kunti, who is the woman in Mahabarata who saves her husband by taking a terrible fall herself. But in Australia, it is the best story, because the fall is never so bad as for Innana and Kunti.

In the Bible it is of Joseph and the female name is Ta’mar.

The Australian story like Joseph goes like this: A Kangaroo digs a big hole in the riverbed to make a safe place for his family to drink. It is too deep to swim in but. Only for drinking. Then the dogs come, and the Kangaroo family all run away to all different parts of Australia. (the kangaroos had already got their tail from wanting to be better than all the other animals, so a creator spirit said OK, and sent a dog out to chase the roo, the chase went on and on, and the dog was catching up and bit that roo at its end, and the roo learned to hop to get away, and the dog’s bite turned into its tail) Then the Kangaroos are still being chased all over the place by dogs, and the first Kangaroo gets chased back to the waterhole he dug, and jumps in. (like the jolly swagman) He turns into the Rainbow Serpent at the bottom.

Later a black headed snake appears on the rocks above, and also a rock wallaby.

That is how I read this story about Koopoo the Kangaroo from Katherine Gorge, and I was finding the same story all over the place, every time I got a book from the library, but I was not sure if all those stories were my same songline, Until I read an Australian one. Then when I travelled back to Armidale, and saw that the animal story has the same end part, (but chased by black goannas instead of dogs), I knew.

Friday oct 10th , a post called:

“perhaps this is what made me suspicious of facebook”,

But which are in retrospect, clearly and utterly the total insanity of men like James Brown, Michael Jackson, and Prince:

The pages that can be linked on as an application, like the Nunga Pride group and Koori Pride group, are what have a commercial aspect, with ads and that in it, and having those connected to your own profile, has a worse effect on dreaming. If anybody sends another person something by those commercial group pages, it also sends dreaming with an accusation against the future, and so establishes an illusion of false way to blame other people. That is how bad money stories have.

Getting to know the nine sorts of “personalities”, or character types, that connect to that sacred drawing from Persia that some people call an “enneagram”, teaches how to pick up if a dream is only being caused by other people blaming their money on us.

Americans have been studying that enneagram, but they used it for causing more money, which was wrong, and then I made some poems, and now got its way for Aborigines in Australia who are true to be having to think of. I learned a Sufi way already is how, but I learned it as a way in Jesus, for having work with Muslims as well, but needing to be covered up again now, soon after I make sure enough Indigenous Australians have its story safe.

Is about how Masonic Lodges are founded partially on Revelations and partially on seeking a fulfillment of Islamic prophesy about the return of King Solomon, and an economy that will be protected internationally. They all want to be who is the best friends of which indigenous economy it will be. The prophesy says it will be who can made a permanent exorcism to remove all paedophilia from the world. I have had troubles from too much police surveillance because I noticed it was already happening, and that what was causing it to be happening in our Australian indigenous story, was how bad the Freemasons and Rosicrucians tried to prevent it being us; because they tried to set up Native Americans into making an exorcism by blaming all of our indigenous story. I have experienced evidence of this. It is true.

I hope you can get my story out safe without opening this knowledge too much, but because it is a story already being lived by an unmarried mother, I need other community to know it open. It is the story of how the nightmares children have had all around Australia, were being done against us, and how to prevent any more of. But those parts I will not tell here.
(however, the very much overly curious among you, can find a book of enneagram inspired poetry written by me, at lulu.com an American print-on-demand internet publishing service, and called “Enneagram: its enigma in poetry without diagram”)

Climbing out of that chocolate doughnut hole
Thursday October 9th 2008 :

Yesterday, I wanted chocolate, so I went to buy a hot chocolate at Starbucks, but while I was waiting to be served, I looked at the food, and the blueberry bagel sort of looked like a chocolate donut, and then I wanted chocolate donuts, so went and bought a two donuts and coffee deal at Krispy Kreme Doughnuts where my son works.

But then, later on, I was in a bad mood with this New York Jew I met in the public libraries, because he imagines that Americans can get cheaper water than Australians, and that getting cheaper water somehow proves that they are better or something. The idiot. So I was thinking about what I am learning off him recently, (and wondering if he might not be the police, but it’d be too obvious if he was so I don’t believe it is), and about the Hare Krishna food he gets money from cooking, and why he is putting too much asafetida in their meals, and what that says about America and Americans and how they eat. It is the same pattern as how the tomato got promoted as a medicinal food and then spread all over the place in Europe before they came to Australia. (There is a Muslim prophesy that Masons believe about an indigenous economy that gets protected through selling a native food plant, and Christopher Columbus mob wanted to impose that story onto Native Americans, so now everybody eats too much tomato and potato: but some Muslims reckon the Intervention proves it is an Indigenous Australian story.) But in my bad mood, I remembered something about how to make sure the Hare Krishna’s are accountable, and so I went and had two more chocolate donuts and a hot chocolate drink, because I know that if I think about something while I am eating then it puts that pattern into my dreaming.

But then, last night and this morning, I had loads of dreams of chocolate donuts, but they were all the sort without a hole, that were not the sort I bought, just the sort I was looking at thinking it is too sweet. Then, I had a dream of my father who is telling me that an agricultural degree at university teaches business skills, and that for some people it is a more appropriate way to get business skills than how I learned accounting.

So this morning, first, I went and bought one of those donuts without a hole, and then put it in the rubbish, then I went back to the first shop and bought that blueberry bagel and ate it. Once before I had a dream from a Aboriginal man I know, that he wanted me to eat a blueberry bagel. It was not too sweet.

At home I ate a small amount of buckwheat, (in London a Russian man gave that food to me), cooked with goats milk cheese, olive oil, caraway seeds, saltbush, and raw silver-beet leaves. It was yum.

One edit ago this next poem had the word “bitch” in it, but not now:
(Tuesday Oct 7th):

National Climate Change Passive Passion Plan

There is such a thing
That has been developing
As a National Climate Change Action Plan
And I see that there man
With an accent not of my land
Is advising me to fear its culpability
Accusing us mob here who are we
Of having been causing the climate
To manifest less fortunately
Yet the truth they know not of the roof
Over all that holds down the economy
Is that there was never no real insurance policy
Thereby do they accuse Australians considerably
Since the super funds of national economy
Are more or less a similar phenomenon
That is unless
Australian workers take heed
And believe that rather we invested
In the capitalist system which divests
Our labour of our best
So do away with insurance
Since that which this
And who is to say
At the end of any day
That every real action we take
And all that insurance pays out to mate
Was not a real act of God to taste
For when we abide by the law
Sure that it ought
And that the trees of real worth
Are hanging off
Refusing to fund
The insurability
Of the insurance industry
While meanwhile have I found
That while they accuse us all round
Of the climate change bound
Do they forget their own loud
Accusations against our whole crowd
Of being somewhat less than human
In which Terra Nullius is still tempering reason
For if it really could have been
That within which they’ve accused our whole race of
Being too rude to put words to
That why of course
When accused of the activity
Since
Of all that is rude is just mistaken twists
We must be mistaken and have only known receptively
That is if
Yet since their false allegations won’t stick
Our forgiveness thus could be what id
Thus the National Climate Change Action Plan
Ought best be considered for land
As what with we are receptively being fanned
When no fan is needed for the worth of land and hand
Best love has no pre-empted shove
Into defining how to profit from
What will become of the weather of time beyond
For the fare of their lair
Be to trick us into their
Profits to become by
Preparation for wrong wants of land undermined
When rather than to prepare
For capitalist economies not spare
Must we find love
In our will to work enough
So start planting trees
But far more important it be
To spend less money
Use less electricity
And eat no more than work needs
Thus to be herein typing
Words these
Through electronic mediums
Might I believe
My own self to be becoming
A tree

Another boring poem’s worth of words
Tuesday October 7th 2008:

Misplaced Modulator

A mounted Canadian
Stranger defamed my
Written work by
Trying to define
My sentences as worse
Than that to prefer
And refused to accept
My own surety
That my modulator
Was not so much misplaced
As needing application
To the whole preceding phrase
For to read
These
Words I write
Must you brain chemistry be right
And capable of remembering
The entirety of every sentence
From its beginning
Right through to the end
While that observer friend
Had defined my words end
By the vanity of how
The sentence in visual amend
By being broken in two pieces then
When it reached the end of the line
As the lines appeared to find
Without the full stop to define
Where one single meaning begins and ends
Like the whole verse of a poem
So beware of these lines my friend
Since every modulating word lends
Itself far and wide
Yet then again
Perhaps applies
To one single line
Thus made to wonder why
It is I have found
That certain persons like to deny
Reality in words I write

And added to that, a comment by brouss chambers,
a police dog type of facebook guy:

“Yet though such words seem real,
Within dictionaries to find,
Sad contemplation feels,
Perchance yon readers, blind?”
to which added I:

Rebekah Copas at 10:48pm October 7, 2008
I read the message you sent about first but, before the comment
and yet

words reel in seamed lean reems of stitches mean
while dictionaries feel be mine for real
No sorrow of never finding tomorrow thus
Be naught the chance upon my own rhyme yon

The Poem I Wrote (longer by mistake being too white in sunlight)
Monday october 6th 2008:

That Accused of the Shirk

The shirk be worst
When naught the verse
Upon who first
Demeaned words
The solution simple
Upon one pimple
Either few or every
Set up by majority
Be Earth’s true victory
Made today for safety

“Fruit found rhyme”
not the right kind
had a thought in mind
of no real thought had defined
neither was was considered its bind

While the delay
By those how have blamed away
The best fruits of labour
In Whitlam’s day
Tried what we to say
And have blamed me this day
Not evangelical enough
Not enough language enough
Not enough belonging to community
Not quite precise enough in play
As though all that’d been gained
By those who have blamed
Be too much for not enough to have stayed
Is having won the game of the day
Well met
Lord won
In Jesus longevity’s sum:

The poem is:
The shirk be worse
When naught the verse
Upon who first
Demeaned words
The solution simple
Upon one pimple
Either few or every
Set up by majority
Soon enough every
In humanity

Don’t you get disgusted with yourself about having to use these shit for brains English words? I am already disgusted enough for most of us all put together. . . . . but if you’re another word smith, then g’day to you too.

Victory to the People

This photo is looking like it is caused by the Prescribed Area People’s Alliance work, but how I am wondering?

I wonder whether indigenous Australian work is joining with indigenous work from every country to enable reforestation?

Maybe the Earth did it?

Blessed Be the Peacemakers.

BECOME “BAILED OUT” PRESCRIBED AREA PEOPLE

my prayer is for this

when my prayers are answered, a long time I have instruction for the story to be through Mparntwe, but I am living here in Brisbane now

Telling My Story Straight

Hello everybody who reads this.  I am making this weblog to put into an internet link in my facebook profile, things about myself, what my story is, and the work I make, and family, for everybody at facebook who has not got truer ways to know me yet.

Maybe I will just be boring though.  So far, I have to go to a meeting now with a Centrelink job lady, bye!

Now I am editing this, but will change it all again later.  Today is a day too busy.  The centrelink woman says she will get me a week work experience writing government grants applications with the Catholic Church; perhaps in the part of the Catholic infrastructure which works with former prison inmates.  But now I have to go again, even though I am looking every where for a poem I made last night, that I wanted to put here.  Perhaps I will late at night if I am not too tired of the trains and city internet places.  I dreamed this morning that I have to.

Also I want to put here, because I forgot to put it into another message.  There is a story about the shape of the brain stem of men being different from women, but that sometimes people have the wrong shape inside, and that is what scientists discovered.  Well there is something important about that.  It can only happen if a man, the father of a baby, forgets to find out what side of the mother’s body her egg came from.  So mother’s need to be able to feel enough.

Once my body got pregnant from the wrong side for what the dad wanted, and the baby had no skeleton, and died inside me after 18 weeks, but it had a spinal cord, guts, and brains.

I dreamed my parents had a shop underground in a place I used to have nightmares of when little, and they told me to get a baby singlet for that baby, and on it, the name is “Vera”.

When I was little those underground dreams were too frightening, because my family did not notice the problem with being there, and I dreamed they disappear from me and have health problems; but in the Dream for Vera, they know what is going on, and so it is safe.  I am waiting for it to happen that my family know what is going on. (My mother and father are very good, and real, but when I became Christened at Church, I put my hand up to stop the priest getting the water he blessed onto the part of my head with no skull yet, the fontanel part; I dreamed it, with my father showing me how to see myself from what my grandmother remembers, and I remember, I was not trying to dodge that holy water, but just already determined to prove that the priest was not holy enough to be giving me a true blessing: and, then, the priest decided I could not believe in God, and tricked my mother into that, and so she is always imagining that I am a dog; which is a very bad story to be having, but I have it without being it, since the Church wanted my mother to.)

Now, I have gone home from the Muslim Community reception at QLD state Parliament House, that I became invited to, and come back into the computers needing to put into the internet (over to the American based server farms that these free software places are generated from: and so dreams of what we put in here, can by accident seem to be coming out of America), another few bits of word string tonight.

This is the only one I thought of today that I didn’t follow up with:  my sixteen year old son got new sox, and he says they are for being the ‘Fox in Sox’, (like the Dr Seuss book for little children) but he is being funny because he is playing a nintendo video game with a character called Fox who he is fond of, (Fox’s fur is very expensive to digitally animate, but somebody managed to, and my son really appreciates it), and I am wondering about why he, earlier this afternoon, went home to play on the nintendo machine(S!), instead of using the internet.

I like those nintendo X-box thingys also, but he is unstoppable.  I think they are an electronic story telling device, and children like it better than computers.  There are old second hand cheap ones also, and my son is teaching me to find the story in “Zelda and the Ocarina of Time”, which is a story about an elf who rescues a princess, which is OK except that the elf needed red clothes.  The elf is named Link/

What is the story with these electronic gadgets?

Video games with a story are an improvement on DVD’s of movies, because children can make the game/story go faster or slower, as they prefer to: like with knowing your own skin all the time, the story, when you know its next part, you can be in go-slow and delay that next part, or jump into it faster and speed up your story briefly, so the bad parts happen when it suits everybody.   I read that is why it is important to have self knowledge from in the Sufi way, and then, I chose to try to remember me all day, and it works!!  Eventually now I can’t forget myself without my whole body going unconscious/.  That happened to me in January 2003 at the Tent Embassy, but that is another story for writing about later.

This is enough for this post now

And now it is morning and I read it all again, and remember what I first wanted to put into this post.

This post is for telling my facebook friends, what this weblog is for, but I have not made the right words about that yet, so I will now.

(some of these are ‘ending with’ words, so only read all of this next long paragraph, when feelings are OK to: the biggest problem in this story was to begin with from my most recently immigrated ancestry, an old story of Djakamara sort of men marrying to nungarrayi girls, so it has to be put into the Kinship way where the children from that sort of joining have either the same skin as mother or same as father: My oldest son is like his Irish father in the shape of his bones, and my other sons are like my brothers.  This is my own sorry business that I am naming so that everybody knows it is only my own fault.  I have some nampidjimba skin from my father who is like a Djangala, and am true a nungarrayi because my mother is like a nakamara, but my parents are a different clan story to my own also.  My father is like Rainbow Serpent clans are, but he is stuck in white culture so can’t realise himself true yet, and my mother is true his wife in that clan, even though wrong skin for him.  Perhaps it is because they married as mother-in-law and son-in-law at my birth place, that my mother imagined I could belong in a dog clan when she knew something was a mistake about my birth to her.  My real story is Emu.  I am very grateful to every traditionally oriented Aborigine whose prayers enabled me to work out my story and make it straight now.  White fellows in mainstream culture are needing true Kinship law lessons, and I am working to begin to become able to give the lessons we all need.  I dream true I will become able, but not certain what the next part of the story is now, so that is why I put words about me into weblogs.  I want to make amends for my white ancestors mistakes.)

I am thinking often about how to have more white fellows, wake up and take more real responsibility for land, and their own behaviour.  Holding everybody accountible in money is the way.  I figured it out eventually, how to make sure that their money is not letting them get away with blaming Aborigines and avoiding their own story.  I figured it out after I first told people that perhaps many of my own ancestors are indigenous, and everybody was scared by me saying so, even though many of my white friends said theirs are too.  Then, I found out why they were all so scared, because everything went bad against me, and I found out how much worse this nation is towards identified Aborigines, than ever towards everybody whose mob has been passing-as-white.  Everything I had ever worked for was all lost, and they even took my children off me for a while, by saying that belief in Aboriginal culture is the same as insanity, but I have proved they were wrong.  I proved myself in court that they were wrong.  But the story I had to be in for it, is the one of the two women fighting over a baby, and they are taken to King Solomon to Judge them on.  He says it is easy, that he will just chop that baby in half, and so the real mother says the other mother can have the baby, and that is how he knows who the real mother is, and he gives it to her.  My sons were for five years with their Irish father and his girlfriend, with them blaming me as though I was a paedophile, (their blaming was against me letting them blame me, without blaming them back, but I could not stop them from that without a real one husband), because I was set up by men who had been in prison, and were buying drugs of people who bought off people who I went to school with, and who had also sold drugs to friends of that father of my children and his girlfriend, and lots of her friends.  I could only have supervised access.  They had no reason.  But they made up lies, and the courts believed it, because of two things: one was that my initial affidavit was lost at the court registry and never filed, and so not in court when it needed to be, and nobody told me in time; the other was that I have a “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder” (that I am recovering from and was caused by a mountainslide in New Zealand), but it was not being properly diagnosed; and then, when I was invited to camp at the tent embassy, because I am with Warlbiri Yapa that day, the people camped there who were using drugs there on a sacred site, and did not want Warlbiri to find out, got scared that I might tell, and so they told my mother (the tent embassy people made a ritual calling for ancestral spirits to come and help them, but my parents arrived instead), that I had a delusion of having black skin, and she told the psychiatric team, and they branded me with schizophrenia.  But the only doctors who ever said it, all took overtly and maliciously misleading collateral evidence, and the psychologists say that I am not unwell in my mind too bad, (even if I write bizarre long sentences), and other psychiatrists say I am normal enough and do not need medication, but they also say that they will not put it into writing, and I suppose it is because their medico-legal insurance premiums go up if they downgrade a psychiatric diagnosis.  One psychiatrist who listened to the lies, wrote that a symptom of my insanity, was that I had a problem with him worrying about his insurance premiums for being a forensic psychiatrist.  All in all, at the end of the day, in court, it is a big win because nobody kept saying in the end, that I am dangerously insane, and they all got scared of the media finding out about the case.  But today, my two younger sons still have to live at their father’s house, because I could not fight the case all the way into victory because the courts never take children away from where they are settled at school, and my sons dad lives closer to their schools than me.  But access is increased, and will be able to keep on increasing, and next year my youngest son will be twelve, and then nobody can stop him and the middle boy, from chosing where they want to be living.  They might have to be brave about not going back to their dad’s house after they come to my house at first, since he is a nasty character too drunk now. (there is a step-mother who is nicer, but hates me for no reason, but they are both people who were abused as children and want to blame everybody who has not been)  This is a bad scary story, but real, and why it is good for telling, is because of how my sons are learning to value Aboriginal culture despite everybody trying to prevent them believing that what I say is true.  This is the story I found a sugar glider way in.  It is a story that makes it very hard for other white fellows to want to associate strongly with black fellows, but it is also a story that proves how white Australia needs to all help take on the burdens of what black Australia was being falsely accused with.  I am more determined than ever to prove that belief in Aboriginal culture is true sanity, and more real than mainstream belief now.

So I wonder sometimes about why these things could be happening to me, rather than to another person.  Why could I want to take more responsibility for the stories which most white fellows want to brand as just being black issues? I know that the truth about the story with my children, is that it was not my fault, and I know that I have been the best mother I could have been in the circumstances, and that my children are the only persons now who God will let judge me in this, and anybody who tried to convince my children to blame me for things that never happen, will be paying, (Mathew 18:1-10 is where Bible tells).  Yet knowing all this, will not prove my own salvation, neither could prevent the story from having begun.  So sometimes I think that the reason these things happened to me, is because I am already fully sure in salvation, so nobody and nothing could shake my faith in my own real experiences, and how my self interprets reality as being my own to have.  But I also think that this story, has to be one which every Australian faces, because I have proven that it is not something which has only happened to black fellows; and perhaps it happened to me because I am brave enough to have been continuing to identify with my own story, within Aboriginal cultural patterns of belief, despite everybody around me trying to prevent me.  Everybody except my sons.  So whether or not this story ever proves to be useful for black communities, the worth in it belongs to my sons for their tolerance of this story, and their will to let me prove my self.

I think these are the next things I write down are the things that counted toward me being enabled to want to accept and believe in indigenous traditional way:

I got raised to believe in social justice outcomes, and to care about other people’s feelings, and then my friends were all greenies and socialists;

I had positive experiences at a young age (19), of being among traditional Aborigines, in ‘88 at Kurnell Corroboree, before and after;

I found my own stories, told in Aborigines way, in books in libraries, (one of the surnames of my ancestry is ‘Page’, and often I am true careful about what I look at in books, because I take in too much in a blood way, the Page part of my family is intermarried with Jews, so that is a book story heritage one, but there are other ways, not books, that culture is transmitted among whitefellows also, that work better for other families);

I think it might be useful if I will find out from a genetic test, (look up “genetic markers” in google, and there is a site that people can send blood away to, with money, and they sent back results of a test for how many genetic markers a person has), if my own genetics have all the seven genetic markers, (of ancestry from one of seven mothers, is what the scientists say) like every Aboriginal person.  My feeling is that I have, but there is no paper records saying that our family have indigenous heritage, just information about white ancestors having been here in Australia since the early 1800’s, when perhaps half the babies being born had Aboriginal mothers.

The genetic markers are each a sign of a way for the brains to be able to sustain consciousness of keeping account for ourselves and each other.  Seven ways, like seven keys, and seven sisters.  Only Australian Aborigines, as a whole race, already had all seven markers.  But today, intermarriage in places like America is enabling people in other places to dream more clearly, BUT, they don’t have culture for it, and that is the problem.  Perhaps my own genetics was all from Europe, from Britain, Germany, and Greece, but then how could I count well enough in the patterns that can cause black skin I wonder?  I think intermarriage is good but it needs to be very carefully managed, so that it reinforces culture.

Muslims say that there are seven ways of being in the “shade of Allah”, and those seven are the same as not having one of the seven genetic markers.  There are also seven routes to martyrdom.  Seven keys to stories, and seven sisters who we receive these ways of mind from.

There is one other thing in my experiences of the world, that enabled me to want to accept full responsibility for my function as a white Australian.  It is that I found, inside of white people’s culture, stories from religion and science, that verified, validated, and corroborated, what I learned at university, and in stories white people who had lived in T.O. communities had told me, about Aboriginal culture.  I think this part was really very important, of how I learned to fully accept all of myself, but hardly any white people are finding the information which proves Aboriginal culture, from inside the mainstream white culture, were we need to find it.  I worry also that more and more black families need to find corroboration of traditional culture from within mainstream economy contexts also by now, and I want my story to be useful for their way also, even though they will like to learn it through other black families rather than through myself directly.

So sometimes I write stories to enable that more people of any amount of Aboriginal ancestry, will find a way back into culture from inside the white world.  Sometimes I write only for the Aboriginalpeople who are already normally able to comprehend what I am on about, but other times, I write for people who find it more difficult to understand the whole story to be real.  I am beginning to get good at that sort of writing.

So in this weblog, I want to begin to put examples of the way I might tell my story for white fellows to learn from, so that their belief can gradually shift into wanting to believe in Aboriginal cultural values.  I want to make my own process transparent for dark skin people, and not be like those white fellows who everybody wants to shame about how they use words about black fellows.  The next post is another one I wrote just today, that is directed at readers who are black, or already close enough to black culture to know to need enough patience reading longer strings of logical sequencing in words.  But after that I will start to put the drafts of chapters for a book I might try to make, for mainstream people.  I might need to apologise about the time expense of reading longer sequences of how words are able to show up cause and effect, because I understand how often shorter sentences are used in a way that denies the real way, but make it easier to adopt the words being used.  Long sentences are more difficult, and I notice often that not many other cultures and ethnic groups are capable of following the whole stream of logical derivatives and conclusions which come through my words.

But I do not know in my own bodily experience, how much of being able to let our minds wrap around the meaning in longer sentences, is an ability of Aborigines and Aboriginal culture, and how much it is an ability of being black as a distinct pattern of difference from most white Australians.  Somehow I believe that all these parts of difference: genetic markers; skin colour; and culture; are all having an effect on how well we adapt ourselves into communication across barriers of different experience and belief; and I want to learn to properly become able to explain how I understand these difference.

It is also true, that any white people who are wanting to learn Aboriginal cultural values, now today, need to be prepared to accept that most black skin families, hold much resentment, and/or angry and sorry, against the invaders and invasion, that any white person who shows we might be able to take on some of the burden, receives a big load of feeling hated and unwelcome, normally very fast, and sometimes too fast for many whites to culturally assimilate how it is that that has happened to them.  In the eastern states, many of the whites who are really true enough to them self in white culture, are very afraid of associating enough with blacks to learn about black cultural values, because of a fear of being accused of being the racists, and so sometimes, (not in NT or SA or WA so much), the white people who ask to learn, are those white people who don’t really want to believe, but want to find bad stories against black communities instead.  That is a real difficult problem, and I want to help to solve it, by encouraging more decent white fellows to learn the true stories.  The more of us white fellows are wanting to learn the real story of this country, then the less burden it will be on those few whites who are already, as well as less burden on black communities.

Soon I will put some pastes into the other posts after this in this weblog, of things I have been writing, for ordinary white mainstream people, who might be curious enough about my story, to want to get it straight.  Those will not be in the next post along, and not the last (first made in the weblog time sequences), but all the middle ones.  Then, if I am able to make my story well known enough, I will be able to let Aboriginal cultural belief influence all those people who have curiosity about what has been happening in my own story.

(My story has lots of parts about police and criminals and catching out the bad guys who have been setting up all Australians to seem like S&M freaks, like how they showed Mel Gibson in that South Park show on TV: and it is a story of recovery from falling into bad ways, and from PTSD as well; so it has all the scandal that media want, but really, I never was more than dipping a toe into bad ways.  Just enough to know not to. I want to make it told in the best way to be useful for black communities and to reinforce and enable Aboriginal culture, and how Aboriginal culture is compatible with any of the three Abrahamic religions, or any other of the world’s recognised religions.)

The reason Aboriginal culture did not teach belief in any secular world is because there is no secular world.

Thankyou for reading all these so many words

A Penal Way into Freedom???

So far, now, all that is being put in here, is some words about what I observe in the world about how Australians are still today badly influenced because of the nation state and legislature, having started as a penal colony.

The most obvious part of the story, is that most of the descendents of convicts, are today, getting on quite well in society, and most have a higher social status, and better education and jobs, than if their ancestors had been kept in England; while the incarceration rate of Aborigines proves how that has happened.

But, on the positive side of that story, I learned something recently from an English historian.  He said that when convicts were sent to Australia, they sent most of the convicts who had trade skills.  They were not sending the worst criminals, and they were not sending who needed to be in prison for a long time, and they were not sending who they really did not want to keep in England, but they were sending every convict with enough skills to build a new society, but they were trying by replicating English stories.

The songline I got born at, in Armidale NSW, it also goes in Katherine, called Koopoo the Kangaroo, and when I went to London, it is the same there.  Same song, like the tune of Amazing Grace.

So that is the one to get the English with, and also English word dreaming.

It is a song also in Indonesia, I have met Indonesian Muslims who have it, and it is in Calcutta in India, and has the Innana mythology of the middle east, from 5000 years ago they found stone tablets with that story written on in cuneform writing, and it is also in Albania where Mother Theresa is born, who went to Calcutta, and the Danube river has it, and the Thames in London, and it is in Iceland also, nearby to the songline that singer Bjork has. 

But about convicts, and penal colonies, and penal systems, and punative justice being what the prison sytem relies on, more than natural justice.  (Natural justice will get em but: because they are so sick as to imagine that people need to be made to forget natural justice instead of made to remember; and so the nature of real justice, will hit that system the hardest.)  In prisons there are such terrible things going on, that I found out about, and lots of people tried to threaten me to stop me from telling, BUT, they always did their threatening me, and then trying to punish me for telling, BEFORE I even knew what they were on about and knew what they did not want me to tell.  So when they tried to stop me telling, that is always what caused me to find out.

I wrote a couple of things about those stories, which are all just too bad to put here.  If you are brave enough try to read the end(first pasted in) post at the weblog http://doyouknowme.wordpress.com BUT DON’T EVEN TRY IF YOU ARE NOT YET IN A PROPER WAY MARRIAGE!!!  (that story of finding out the worst of life before marriage only needs to have me in it, because it is so bad that I will stop it happening to everybody else)

Well, there are all those bad things about how the British arrived in Australia, all that on top of invasion, land theft, diseases, and cultural alienation, but one more thing I notice also.

The mainstream white population in Australia, are all too far easily subjugated by the police.  The police are used to getting away with too much here.  In Britain, the public would make a big fuss and prevent the police from getting away with so much as they get let to here.  In Britain, there are big coalitions that work against the far right wing political ideas, and it is always the far right wing who have the reputation for excessive violence.  But in Australia, the lists which were kept by the Howard government, of what Muslims not to let into Australia, were lists of socialist Muslim organisations, who get let into the USA, and the lists of who is not allowed in the USA, included far right wing groups which were let into Australia.  Maybe that can change now under the ALP. 

Why are Australians too scared of the police?

Why do the British public demand of police that the police have to be obedient to law, but in Australia, we all just expect that the police could be corrupt.  Not all of the police, just some of them, but how my white family raised me up, was to know of the need to be careful to avoid the sort of trouble with the police that can be caused by the police making untrue accusations.  My family are a nice middle class well educated family, and they certainly never expected anybody to really trust the police.

Why?

Why are Australians less trusting of the police and police allegations? 

Is it only because we know to be distrustful of assumptions about the future, and especially assumptions about any wrongdoing in the future?

Or, is it also because everybody has a penal system idea of policing in our mind?

How do we make our minds escape the penal system idea of policing?

Here I have a story from the middle east that is sometimes used to give a picture with.  The picture is occassionally called an “Enneagram”, but that is just a made up unreal word for it.  It is a circle with a triangle in it, with the point of the triangle up, 9 at the top, three to the right, and four to the left.  Now fill in the other numbers, then draw lines connecting them in this sequence: 1428571.  (I made a book of poetry about that picture, and if anybody wants a copy, there is a download at lulu.com called “Enneagram: Its enigma in poetry without diagram”, and I will take the money cost off the pdf download if you send me an e-mail because you want those poems; or, it costs me about $4- to print a copy and post it inside Australia; unless anybody wants to pay $24-+ American to buy the lulu.com copy in the internet, that perhaps Americans will since they love it for money, because it has a pattern of personalities for each number 1-9, that show up how we are deluded by money.  It is a sacred diagram from Persian Sufism, and the lessons in it were put by Sufi Wali-like Wirrun.  I have permission to be who sucks it all back in out of the economy, so if any Aboriginal mob who believe my story, can work it also for money, and/or against money, that is how it will work.)  This is its story:

There is a man in prison.  His wife weaves him a prayer rug.  He kneels on in praying every day, and many times in each day, and one day, he notices, that in the design his wife wove into the rug, there is a lock.  The pattern in the rug shows the inside workings of the lock.

He makes a sort of arrangement with prison guards, so it is good for them as well as for him, (they bring him what he needs so they can sell what he is making), and eventually, among everything they bring him, are enough tools and metal to make a key that will open the lock woven into the carpet.

He makes a new key and it opens the door and he is free.

Like this:

Faith of consciousness is Freedom

Faith of feeling is weakness

Faith of body is stupidity

 

Love of consciousness evokes the same in response

Love of feelings evokes the opposite

Love of body depends only on Kinship

 

Hope of consciousness is Strength

Hope of feeling is slavery

Hope of body is disease

 

I read it in an allegory (real story made to sound unbelievable by what parts are told with what keys open), that was written to make a small part of Islam from indigenous people in the middle east, available to people who had European ancestry.  And when I read it, I knew I am true, indigenous of this land.  Perhaps here in Australia, are many Aborigines who are owed lessons about how to find the right way into true knowledge, but from inside the invading culture.  That is what I have earned the right to be having a way of.  That is why I am making this weblog, and asking Yolngu to be among my facebook friends.

Once I told a Muslim that the word “Muslim”, might mean the same thing as the word “Yolngu”, or “Warlbiri”, or another word for human way of mind.  The Muslims say to use the Arabic word “Mumin”, that means believer who  did not get converted by other Muslims, but who just began to believe real by being true.  Aboriginal tribe/language word names can mean either I think.  Being Muslim rather than Mumin is defined by having acknowledged your heart’s belief by saying aloud, and acting on.

Last night, I was talking with a Muslim woman who has Arab women’s fashion shops in Brisbane and Sydney, and when we were talking, she offered a deal for her shop to have signs asking for donations of clothing, and also a discounted price for selling, to get clothing for Aboriginal Mumin and/or Muslims.

Being Muslim has five “pillars” of belief.  Like in some Aboriginal paintings I see with five.

These are:

Saying belief in One God (or one creator being for everybody), and saying about what you know of how Mohammed spoke true (even saying Mohammed believes in Jesus if what you already know is about Jesus). (in Arabic say Shahadaa)

Fasting, is usually for Muslims at Ramadan, but here, because we are Southern Hemisphere, when initiation time is on is good. (in Arabic say Sawm)

Making donations to who needs it with all money and belongings you are not needing but have. (in Arabic say Zakat)

Making pilgrimage,  to the place of what father you have known and can afford travel to, and for many Muslims that is to Mecca where Mohammed got born, but is the same as to travel to your own father’s birthplace, when he is who you know lessons in belief best from. (in Arabic say Hajj)

Making ritual prayer, or ceremony, or Corroboree, where we observe and monitor our posture as well as mind. (in Arabic Salat)

One of these five (or is it all of), in Arabic also has strong meaning for making sure of making our inside understanding be governing how we are in the world, and being in this world as well as believing in a real world which this world has not yet become.  Like how Christians say being in the world but not of the world.  I think it is Salat, so being able to make prayer while dancing and walking is more important than to only do it on your knees in a Mosque.

I am a Christian even though I became Muslim, I never stopped being Christian.  I have a post in a forum of a website owned by the Royal family of Jordan, at http://www.altafsir.com (the Tafsir is the interpretative analysis of Qur’an that unravels any bad politics being put into words), and it tells of how to be true in Jesus.

Today, there is an agreement between many important Muslims scholars all over the world, that agrees that nobody is allowed to say that anybody else is not a real Muslim.  The agreement confesses that no Muslims really know any more who are the real ones.  But it is a majority agreement by Muslim scholars and is internationally recognised, and has a website called the Amman message.  Aborigines do not need to bow down to anybody to establish that we have our own worth in Islam, or even to let that be real in Christian hats.  This is true.

biding time now

post to edit later

This got sent to Alice for the Convergence

Most of this post is a paste of a short booklet I made, that was put together with other stuff for the socialists from Brisbane who travelled to Alice together in buses.

It is written mainly for people whose ancestors have had houses for a long time, so before you read it, perhaps you might like this story too.  This one is an allegory from Asia, about a house.

There are four rooms.  Every man starts with access to one room in the house he owns.  The first room represents his body.  There is a room representing his feelings and conscience, and a room representing his spirit.  As he grows up through his childhood and youth, maybe he already learned how to access those rooms.  The fourth room is the room with his cause in it.  But it is harder to get into that room.  However, it can be accessed from every of the other three rooms, by ways called the way of the fakir, the way of the monk, and the way of the yogi.  But usually, by accessing the fourth room from just one of the other rooms, it requires a life time of hard labour, only to open the door to the fourth room upon death.  Yet there is a fourth way.  It is called the fourth way.  Dreams about houses, and doors, normally always rely on the old allegory about the house with four rooms.

But what I will put here, is the book I made about convincing white fellows not to need a house some days.

It has magic in it, for real, that I learned by a very hard way, about money and how the American economy had been overinvesting on false promises from European Freemasons and Rosicrucians.  I learned how some of the magic of promises from Islam about a protected economy, were being patterns by the minority of those with Native American culture who wanted the money.  But the ideas in here about how to profit in the economy, have a difference, and now will be able to be patterned into Australian sequences. 

Dreams of the fourth room in a house have a sun in our way here in Australia, and most Aboriginal clans follow the patterns of the fourth way in teaching that have becommmmmmme rare in other countries.  Best not get hopes up about making money out of work that keeps art and music together but, I have broadened thie subject of this book to include more than just its original  idea.

“Dreaming Haadjmo’s Dance Time; AManuel,” ®

Unhoused Holidays,  is no more than an idea for a business venture, but it is an unusual one. One which will in essence, comply with the teaching and learning processes of how to comprehend the reality of the capitalist economy, and the insistence on social justice being a pre-requisite for capitalism, because of the eventual inevitable decline of capitalism, which is proven to exist within the mathematics of calculus, within which process, it will be those organisations and individuals, who could sustain real social justice and equality in life, who will be raised to the higher degrees of knowledge.  It might not be a good idea on the surface, but underneath that surface, it can support and sustain a myriad of other ideas for acquiring enough money to get by.

It is the idea of how to adapt our human needs to accommodate the capitalist mode of production, without also letting the capitalist mode of production define our real human needs, and within enabling real human needs, to define how we make a profit.  Consider the fact that capitalism, and economics based on capitalist investment in commerce, is bound to eventually become disproven, (if it is not already).  What that means is the inevitability of economic downturn.  Therefore, whoever has been making money out of truly fulfilling essential human needs, is whose profits will be generated for the longest.  This is an idea about how to do that, in a way so as that every cent of profit, is invested in proving a more real, and more stable, economy, than capitalism can be.  This book is an ideological analysis of the reasoning behind such an idea being effective.

It is an expensive idea, and for that reason, this publication may also prove somewhat expensive to own, even if not a financial expense.  Some parts of this story are a gift, not able to be priced, while others, are information which is too valuable to provide without that information itself causing our ideals of personal accountability to increase. Expensive for the reason that the information within it, has already been a very large expense upon a few, seldom complaining, individuals.  Some of the information it provides is related to the story about how certain social institutions, which sustain capitalism, are using religious methodology to negatively effect, (and by means of those methods, they seek to implicate with guilt), the human subconscious processes, of every existing person, in the mode of production named capitalism. 

Certain persons and companies have attempted, variously, to copyright and/or patent, that information.  The information itself is not copyright and cannot be made copyright, because it belongs in those contexts in which legislative justice has no realm.  The knowledge of religious method is too intangible to quantify, and brand as being owned.  It is knowledge which exists all around us, and there are many various formulations in words, which provide us with clues as to how to access than knowledge.  Capitalism may seek to sustain monopolies on the ownership of the tools which workers have to use, but need not monopolise the knowledge embodied in the skill in the hands of workers.  The function of knowledge is a function which is defined by its changes, and therefore, claiming to own any fact of comprehension, in a way that prevents that fact being known by other human minds, can effectively alter the nature of the fact.  Therefore, there is no patent, trademark, copyright, or any other form of legislated ownership, not even of the land title deeds, for the tracts of land which sustain specific stories about the keys to opening knowledge, which can hold onto any knowledge that is not being worked by who knows it.  Owning knowing is work.

However, the individual efforts made, by individual persons, whom made those efforts for specific purposes, can be copyrighted and patented and trademarked, on a case by case basis, and only so as to protect realistic intentions to cause that any individual’s work will not be wasted by being misinterpreted.  Such is the case with this booklet.  As it is the case with the nature of owning anything. When we claim our ownership by any legislative mechanism, we are stating our individual stake in establishing the worth of our own labour, through establishing that we are who, through our own attitudes and behaviour and speech, can permanently define the correct interpretation of what we produce.  Take due note of this analysis, with application to those large capitalist companies who own the title deeds to larger tracts of land: what their title deeds define is their stake in proving the worth of their labour, through their intentions, methods, and their own understanding of what their labour has produced.  That is, an ownership of little real worth.

The question is, if we drink Coca Cola, is it because we are attracted to the idea of damaging our health by consuming too much sugar and caffeine, in a drink made of alkaline soda water mixed with an acidic substrate, that effectively tricks the taste sensors in to presuming it is going to have the effect of an alkaline food, when in fact it has the effect of an acid; or, is it because we are attracted to the “ribbon logo” of the Coca Cola company; or, is it because the Coca Cola company invest lots of money in causing people to associate that “ribbon logo”, (relate to it), with the value of the labour of anybody who has ever manufactured, sold, bought, or consumed Coca Cola?  If it is the last idea, which is most probable, since we are not so lacking in intelligence to damage our health on purpose, and we know there is nothing really very special about that “ribbon logo” as Art, then just as readily as the Coca Cola company can associate our own self worth with their logo and product, we can refute their capacity to.  Sometimes it is  even possible  to make the “money trick” of a big brand name, work for us; but not without real comprehension of the psychology of the trick.  That comprehension is not normally let on, and it is not an especially happy thing to have to think about, so often even those who study all the Marxist literature, don’t get it.  Happily however, not everybody needs to, and this book is being written to enable others to rely upon my own comprehension of that trick; but not by anybody who profits from causing harm to life.

The copyright for this Unhoused Holidays concept, is owned by a propriety limited company, which also owns this trade mark: “Dreaming Haadjmo’s Dance Time; AManuel,” ®, that is a word mark, registered in classes 16, 41, and 42, now, until 2016, with an option to then buy that mark again, if it proves worth having had it owned within the legislative justice system’s marks of ownership.  The trademark is a mark on this work, and earlier work of mine.

This booklet is in essence a social experiment. 

In this booklet, I will be providing some information about various religious belief systems, and the psychological processes which religious believers experience.  I have no intention of converting you into any specific belief, perhaps not even any form of socialism, although I have an expectation that you might have begun reading it, within an already established understanding of why socialism is the inevitable product of capitalism.  What I am intending, is to make it explicit, in no uncertain terms, that the modern beast of the capitalist mode of production, has always been heavily reliant upon information it sources originally from religious texts, yet while those same original religious texts, contain every warning available under the sun, about why not to attempt to cause material gain through the exact intellectual processes which sustain capitalism.  The benefit to us as workers and socialists, of understanding this, can be as powerful or powerless as you find yourselves willing to accept it.  But I have to warn you that this booklet is not some hippy trippy trashy bullshit about how people cause their own realities, and therefore, is not about proving that what we believe in is what defines reality.  Rather it is about proving that what reality is, needs to be what defines how we believe in the world.  This is the same warning as every religious text contains, and it is the basis of the most precise definitions of “faith”.  The methods I will be working towards preventing capitalists from using against us, with my writing here, are the same methods as in use during “faith healing”, but where a health care oriented process is defined by the reality of pre-existing bodily health, capitalists have used the exact same process against us, but defining it by what lies we are vulnerable to being tricked into acting upon as though already real.  So it becomes about psychological health.  Believing only in what will never be disproven, is a hard feat to accomplish, and made harder by how capitalism renders monetary exchanges.

This booklet is not intended to become widely available, but will be published in very small print runs, and made available to persons whom have already demonstrated three things: a lifestyle commitment to reducing greenhouse emissions; a commitment to the intellectual rigour of any one of the various Socialist and Marxist dogmas; an overt willingness to undertake participation in experiential learning of traditionally oriented Aboriginal culture, or of enduring the sort of physical hardship which instils improved levels of self discipline, as a positive social function.  In the first place, this booklet may be made available to the younger, and more physically able, among socialists and greenies, for the purpose of learning about what sorts of “interventions” into the capitalist system’s power broking patterns, may well be likely, with not too many dollars, to establish an effective means of enabling more of our communities to realise the need for socialism and planting trees.  In the second place, it is a guided tour, of how to make use of any idea like the “dark side of town”, and “Unhoused Holidays” tours, which may well be able to turn a dollar or two; but if so, and if in any of those names, or by any connection with the trademark “Dreaming Haadjmo’s Dance Time; AManuel,” ® and/or, within any precise verbal formulation found in this booklet, then the profits gained must by necessity all be donated, either to one of the organisations it was first written for, and/or, upon application to the trademark and copyright owner, at PO Box 6113, Fairfield, QLD 4103, donated to any organisation, which sponsors Marxist education and makes a stand against racism, and/or, any organisation which is directly involved with teaching Aboriginal traditions, in a way that is fully compatible with a socialist analysis.  The basic idea is to engage in the capitalist economy’s methods of enticement into spending money, but to entice people to spend their money on something which will prove to them, that what they might really want, is to find less need in life for spending money.  There will therefore, always be a very basic difference between enticement into spending money towards the profit of this idea, and any other profits, because capitalism entices people to spend money on what can only cause them to want to spend more money needlessly thereafter.

The aim of the “dark side of town” tours idea, or the “unhoused holidays” one, is only to provide a method for the socialist left, (I use the phrase “socialist left” here, although I don’t think I have ever witnessed any evidence of any other sort of “left wing”, apart from those belonging to birds and insects, which is in any way distinct from being socialist politically, and the right and left of politics is always associated with wings rather than hands or feet; what I am attempting to communicate, is that, if our society is to continue applying the words “left” and “right” to our various political inclinations, then accurate comprehension of word usage patterns, and of actual social analysis, and society’s constant processing of social reconstruction; will we eventually inevitably reconstruct socialism and Marxism and the end of capitalism, as having no ‘wing’ of politics?  I am suggesting this because of the existence today, of a few far right wing political ideals attached to left wing sponsored social justice advocacy – eg, the idea that for one person to gain another must suffer, belongs to the far right wing of politics, but can be detected often among those who purport to support many of the causes which socialists take up, although the idea is not compatible with a Marxist analysis.), to experiment with various methods of fundraising within the existing capitalist system; but within that process, to also find out why it is that in religious contexts, despite the fact that those contexts are often being abused by the leadership, there is a high valuation placed in being able to sacrifice ones immediate material comfort.  Perhaps this lesson is one which most socialists have found themselves to already have a real experiential understanding of, and that having been one of the basis within which real comprehension of socialism as the solution to the capitalist mode of production, is engaged in our mental processes.  Yet we all have friends, family, and acquaintances, whom we know to be nearly fully fluid with a socialist analysis, yet who sustain no motivation to work to establish a socialist reality.  The experiential lessons required for the correct analysis, are frequently being packaged and sold by various religious organisations; but because the leadership of those organisations, take their own comfort, and pleasure, from being paid in money by those who are buying the experiences, there is limited worth in the experiences, and the result tends to be working for a peaceful world, without an analysis of how monetary transactions will need to change the whole basis upon which exchange of money exists, before the face of the world is able to manifest real lasting peace.

Let me qualify that last paragraph with a much longer more complicated paragraph.  By being subject to extreme hardships, certain biochemical processes are triggered in our body, which enable us to believe in ourselves as more capable individuals, and which enable our minds to be more sharply observant.  Such hardships, if they are to have a real positive effect, need to be very carefully monitored, and every caution against suffering needlessly has to be put in place.  Yet there is a bottom line at which no mother is capable of telling her husband that she suffered nothing at all in childbirth, although she will always chose to tell her children that.  Those responses in her make procreation viable. Various religious organisations, engage in a series of lessons which involve physical endurance of hardship, (eg a week of silent meditation in specific difficult to maintain yoga postures, is something Australians are already going on waiting lists to be allowed to pay for attending: so what else might we Australians want to be doing with our money?), and then the people who learn a lesson, are expected to account for any real increase in personal capacity, as being emotionally and ideologically indebted, to the religious organisation they already paid money to.  A debt of that sort might be real only if the increase in personal capacity, is meaningful in every social context, even fully distanced from the original teacher.  If that is the case it can only be truly proven when there is no duress placed upon obligations, and that is where religious institutions get their own game wrong.  (It is also where Aboriginal Australian traditions are getting the game precisely defined into a potential winning streak that police agencies are afraid of.  Yet the police clearly have no cause for fear other than their own inclinations.  Which is essentially what proves the story.)  Meanwhile, other people in society are also being subject to extremes of physical hardship.  Sometimes they become promoted thereafter as a hero for saving the lives of others, but other times, nobody notices.  Perhaps nobody noticed because they were in prison and being in prison, the other inmates and the security, anticipated that they would become a part of the cause of physical hardships for another new inmate, as though nobody cares, or is cared about, from the moment they walk into a prison.  Usually prison hardships are the most extreme forms of needless, and psychologically harmful experiences, but occasionally somebody walks out of those situations, more determined than ever to continue to live within the truth, when perhaps they had been wrongfully imprisoned.  The hardship was wrong and unnecessary, but somehow the survivor still found that the physical endurance required, is what provided for their psychological needs in the situation.  Just like having to hold a single meditation posture all day perhaps.  Then again perhaps nobody noticed human hardships because the sufferers and survivors live on the street or are an addict, and therefore, we all want to avoid associating with them.  While drug abuse always works against the right sort of physical conditioning I am referring to, thorough drug detoxification, is the exact physical endurance required to recover. Perhaps there is a sizable group of people living in Australia today, that could be defined as an underclass, because of having had to endure physical hardships that prevented any fulfilment of social expectations about working for money; but, if that underclass exists, what I have noticed of them, is that the same endurance of physical hardship, as noted about silent meditation and yoga retreats, is certainly not always having the desired effect of stabilising people within an understanding of having nothing left to lose.  One of the main two factions of modern socialism, believe in the worth of engaging with an underclass, because that underclass, are who have endured enough, to realise that there is really nothing to lose in fighting to achieve socialism.  Yet in Australia today, those people who form an underclass, usually do believe that they have something to lose, and that the something they might lose, is use of alcohol or similarly deceptive substances.  Similarly, there are other people, who might have jobs and houses even, who find their minds orienting into the correct psychology of having nothing left to lose.  (“Nothing to lose but our chains”, is one of the oldest sayings of Marx and Marxists.) Essentially the basic value of any experience of enduring physical hardship, is counteracted, if it is experienced simultaneous with drug use, and that is partly because of the fact that the affirming experience of enduring physical hardship, is already similar enough to specific aspects of drug use, that the positive consequence of facing hardships, can be readily confused with drug use.  We all realise that elite athletes, and many other sports people, engage in their sports because of the associated psychological states they attain, but we are not yet counting those experiences as perfectly capable of contributing towards a socialist outcome, if within the correct frame of reference, and my suggestion here, is that we could be.  (Did you know that the Woolloongabba Cricket Ground is built on a significant Aboriginal Bora Ring for dance ceremonies, which got ritually transferred into being allowed to be used for the purpose of sport, and that many such cricket grounds exist across Australia, but nobody is likely to tell which ones.) People who have experienced physical hardship and are fit from having worked in that experience to prevent it having a detrimental effect, tend to cope far more effectively with emotional and psychological hardship.  The point about the argument of some socialists, that only who has nothing left to lose will be able to make a socialist revolution, is a point about what we believe “nothing to lose” really is.  Is it no house, no car, no job, no money? Or is it no friends, no welfare, no shelter, no certain future? If enough ordinary Australians arrive into a predicament of no house ownership, no transport ownership, and no job, without having also lost friends, government welfare assistance, and certainty in a positive future, then perhaps they all might realise a real need for socialism, but that social condition is not yet occurring, and those who lose their job, and do not own houses and cars, right now, tend to be also those who have substance addictions, (except for a minority who include some students, single parents, many traditionally oriented Aborigines, and those of the unemployed who chose to work voluntarily at something, not because of being directed to, but because of wanting to).  So I am suggesting, that the only effective underclass, for sustaining socialism from the basis of it, is the underclass who already know the value of labour.   Perhaps they learned the value of they labour because they have never eaten a meal without working for it, (even if being paid no money for their work such as the peasants in China), or perhaps because, despite the availability of free food for all Australian welfare recipients, some people just know that it feels good to work for it anyhow.  The point is that the endurance of hardship can potentially have the outcome of falling into far right wing politics, and criminality, as readily as it can have the outcome of realising the need for socialism.  Just like a yoga teacher can make physical demands which teach negative lessons, as readily as he uses yoga to teach positive lessons, so can political ideas become either powerful or impotent, through the same set of physical hardships, experienced by different persons.  The key question therefore, is what makes the difference.  Socialists are always trying to figure it out, and apply their observations to immediate situations, even if they do not always figure out what the real difference is.  The difference depends on the quality of the entire experience, and how the experience is being framed for that person, by the entire set of environmental conditions.  That includes predispositions caused in infancy; and every social condition which society argues about.  Was it nature or nurture which caused us our predisposition?  Is it only predispositions which define the outcome?  Can we adjust a set of predispositions, for improved social justice outcomes?  Those questions are always being debated.  My position here in this booklet, is that money itself causes specific negative predispositions, preventing us from learning properly from experiential lessons, (the child spits out a lolly, but instead of realising that there is no more left that is not covered with dirt, somebody had bought more, and so the child felt no real repercussion for real behaviour), and therefore we need to be able to navigate that before we can cause social justice and a socialist, or real communist, economy.  So our aim, in working for any sort of social change, has to be to engage in providing the sort of environmental conditions in which a correct understanding of the endurance of hardships will be attained.  What hardships are warranted as worthy in the human experience, and what hardships are those which only cause meaningless, and therefore useless, suffering.  Some mothers and fathers advocate for use of opiates during childbirth, or for Caesarean section operations that prevent natural labour, but mothers who advocate for enduring a natural labour, even if it is long and difficult, succeed in winning over a significant number of doctors and nurses.  WHY? Simply because the woman adjust to the challenges of motherhood far more successfully after enduring hardship to give birth.  There is no real question that the human physiology needs some degree of hardship. Normally, it is only those hardships with instil a higher degree of self discipline, that are effectively able to be built upon for anybody’s gain; and even then, what that gain is, defined by who is framing it and why, are all factors in how a total outcome evolves; as well as anybody’s predisposition.

If you could wrap your head around all of that information, then perhaps you might realise what I am getting at with the idea of tours of a big city after dark.  If we know that enduring hardship is beneficial, why not put ourselves to the test, and spend a weekend living on the street?  But even further we can take the idea, and think about asking for money from paying customers, if we put that money towards the cause of the eventual prevention of homelessness.  Yet if we do that, we have to be able to prove that a weekend on the street is going to be personally beneficial.  How that can be achieved, is real, but not an easy task. 

One of the aims of this booklet, is to provide the analytical basis for some experiential education in the existence of an “underclass”.  Who are they, apart from ourselves and our own peers if we include our own social status in that category?  What are their lives like?  How is it that there can exist very destitute people, whose political inclinations are not being aligned into a socialist analysis of their living conditions, and worse still, who align their beliefs with their oppressors?  If they are around us, why are not all socialists focussing efforts on enabling them to become a working class, rather than just waiting for more destitute people than we are to cause the revolution for us?  The idea of this booklet came from my own wondering about why a good half of all socialists, continue to romanticise the idea of it being a destitute underclass who will produce what society needs.  Will the destitute do that unless they are a majority?  Do socialists support that idea because they recognise their own individual weaknesses for what money can buy?  Can we immediately start to find out what it feels like to be destitute, and whether that experience is truly adequately enabling of socialist ideals?

My own particular belief as a socialist, includes belief in the mathematical equation, called “The Theory of the Tendency for the Rate of Profit to Decline”, which is a mathematical equation which proves no more than the warnings embedded in religious material, against misuse of that material for personal gain.  (Interestingly the maths uses calculus, and all calculus has its origins in the numerology of Qur’an, but that is another story.) Another belief I hold to, is that of Trotsky’s Theory of Permanent Revolution.  In that theory, it is understood that countries like the former USSR and China, hold no possibility for real total economic socialism, (no matter whether it is being called socialism or communism), whilst ever they need to engage in an international capitalist economy; but it is also understood, that one day, somewhere, one nation will get the ball rolling for real socialism, in a sort of “domino effect”, until every nation has it, because then socialism will be sustainable.  Usually people who believe in these ideas, do not also ascribe to the idea of a need to work with an “underclass”, however, I believe that nobody can afford to ignore the situation which exists in which any underclass manifests.  I also believe that the idea of having nothing left to lose is essential to work with, but I also believe, that the underclass which takes to far right wing politics, and crime, are the underclass who were beginning to lose even what they still might have had left to own in destitution.  That is, things like dignity and pride, which the far right wing supplies in grandiose excess among the homeless.  Would they have chosen pride in being a socialist if given the opportunity?  I believe so. 

Many Religions include lessons with stories about having nothing but one’s own self to lose, and that lesson is integral to the entirety of Aboriginal culture(s).  The pride held in being Aboriginal, is that even if you take from me my most important human face, I am still real, and as this animal you have left me with being, I will defeat you.  It is a lesson in life continuing, and existence itself being the victory of all ages.  That lesson enables a specific highly accurate understanding of what there is to lose, and therefore, what is worth making an effort not to lose.  The lesson also makes the idea of having nothing to lose seem quite impossible.  So therefore, when socialists want to sponsor the advent of socialism among those with nothing to lose, which exact “nothing” might that be?  Because some “nothings” are more worthwhile working for, than others, and nobody expects a transition to socialism to happen without any work.

The whole analysis can be taken further. While ever people are motivated by wanting to own anything which is not identified with as a part of who we are, (eg. capitalists want to own the money they pay in wages, and the products of wage earners work, but also internally are often devoid of the identity of that ownership, and chose to identify rather with the actual labour of the wage earners, as though it had been their own; whereas workers tend to identify with some of the objects we buy with wages, as though we really made it, but when it was probably made by a poorer person than we are, otherwise we are not likely to have been able to afford to buy it; and how we identify with stuff, causes our personality to develop, so the stuff we identify with, becomes us: identify yourself totally accurately, and you are out of the traps of money-tricks), then they have no real conception of what there is to lose by avoiding an economic transition from capitalism to socialism.  But the lesson of religious teaching goes further, by saying that we also have only our self to win.  That idea of only having one’s own self, one’s own nature combined with one’s own human worth, to either gain or lose, is the essential frame in which endurance of hardship will always be able to have a positive outcome.  It is a simply idea which is compatible with a true reconciliation of the two major sects of socialism. 

The Theory of the Tendency for the Rate of Profit to Decline, seems an unlikely theory to have a mathematical equivalent, if we apply it in isolation, to only the profitable section of the global economy.  That is because the big money industrialised nations, have been through longish periods of increasing rates of profit.  Not just increases of profit, but increases of the rates at which profiting is increasing.  The fact of capitalism which the rich know and try to hide from the poor, is that within escalation of the rate of profit, capitalism fails.  Those rich with the money of capitalist gain delude themselves about that because it is just too frightening to face.  Yet we all know that the money has no fixed value.  The value we exchange money for is not even being bound to a quantity of gold reserve any more.  Other units of measure, like a gram and a mitre, have a single item held in a bank, that everybody agrees upon as the measure of the measure.  These days money has no such thing.  Not unless we each make it be our own health and wellbeing, because money has a striking effect upon our bodies, which we can measure, if we are only able to recognise how.  The question of how is tangible only within religious law, and older cultures than the ones which enable capitalism.

When we consider how the increasing rate of profit effects third world economies, (including parts of the economy of Aboriginal Australia perhaps), and how increasing rates of profit effect the Earth’s environment, we have to realise that overall the world economy was already in a massive downturn well before anything like the sub-prime-mortgage investment collapse; but somehow that overall economic down turn is being masked.  Either by the ignorance of observers, or by a trick, and most likely by a trick which promotes that ignorance.  Normally the faction of socialists who advocate for Trotsky’s Theory of Permanent Revolution, point to wars, and the advertising industry, as the method by which that masking takes place.  I would advocate, on behalf of soldiers and the actual social contributions they make if war is necessary, that it is actually lies about war, and therefore a form of government advertising, which masks the inevitability of economic downturn eventually happening in every nation simultaneously.  Government advertising and commercial advertising are also related to the insurance industry, which I would include in the same set of industries which seem to offset the declining rate of profit, but really only mask it.  That masking is exactly what is causing environmental degradation.  It is worth investigating why some of the most wealth companies and individuals, who know something about how to force people to swallow new money tricks, avoid paying for insurance, because they are afraid of being caught liable for their knowledge.  Very wealth hotel owners, for example, might not be paying for building insurance, and imagine that by not being insured, that they can escape being culpable, even if they invest in the companies which sell insurance to those who have little money.  The idea of insurance is a trick that prevents people believing in the basic human need to accept natural justice.  It is advertising.  Socialists in the faction who support Trotsky’s Theory of Permanent Revolution, point to spending on the wars and advertising, as the two ways in which a natural decline in profits is prevented; however, the example of spending on wars, is the example of when wars are not needed, (especially how investment in the cold war, is what enabled the longest cycle ever of economic growth), and in which the spending is again on advertising.  Spending money on lies is what prevents everybody perceiving the immediate total failure of capitalism.  The government spending on the intervention into remote indigenous communities, is one of the most distressing recent examples of the same thing.

In general, I find that those people who align themselves with the faction of socialism which denies Trotsky’s Theory of Permanent Revolution, are usually more pragmatically minded.  For example, there are no socialists who would want to wish ill upon a country like Cuba, but to engage in advocating for active support for the Cuban government, among those who understand Marxist politics, it is more effective to pin hopes upon denying Trotsky’s theory, regardless of whether it might be proven to be correct one day or not.  In general, those who are aligned in that faction, use methodology which is more socially acceptable in the Australian mainstream also.  Yet it is within the other faction of socialists, where the real nuts and bolts of what disproves capitalism are taught; and also in that faction that it is best understood how socialists always have one over the police, because of the police having long portrayed all socialists as wanting violence, or even as having been causal to the arms race.  Belief in Trotsky’s Theory of Permanent Revolution, does not mean that the first country to become socialist, (or “communist” as Karl Marx called the idea), will need to impose their system of governance by force upon every other nation, which is what the police worldwide have long assumed.  It does mean, that no country will ever be able to truthfully completely manifest a socialist economy, until other nations are prepared to follow suit voluntarily within a relatively short time.  That is a bit of a rough idea to apply, but many people apply it to preferences for smoking Cuban cigars, or drinking Cuban coffee; choosing to support the capitalist ventures of a nation state, because we aren’t sure that their socialist democracy can negatively gear the revolution that far through time.  People who have that comprehension in mind, tend to attain a capacity to find more and more knowledge which supports socialism, and refutes far right wing dogma more rapidly and accurately, than those people who have the idea of the underclass with nothing to lose, being the more essential ingredient.  Trotsky’s Theory of Permanent Revolution, is also an idea that engages with some of the keys for understanding stories, as taught by Australian indigenous tradition, and every religious mystery tradition.  Obviously, economic transition into zero growth economies, inclusive of massive intentional economic downsizing (no depressions or recessions, but intercessions perhaps, or maybe just seasonal sessions), which is essential for preventing the greenhouse effect, necessarily depends upon both domestic and international economic conditions.  The basic division between the two factions of socialists, can be condensed into an argument between those who say it is only the domestic market that counts, and those who say it is only the international market that counts.  So it is hardly any wonder, that the vast numbers of Australian students, who have come in contact with socialist ideas, seem to want to avoid being associated with socialists.  The factionalism among socialists is just too embarrassing once you get that.  Yet I think that the socialists, in both camps, are doing a tremendous job, because they are silently amassing a larger and larger pool of ordinary Australians, who have made contact with the ideas.

This booklet is called unhoused holidays, in part because of how it could be made useful to traditionally oriented indigenous communities, with whom having a room in a house, is not understood as a necessity of life, but yet a luxury, and at times even an unhealthy luxury, but one which the government demands of parents to prove their capacity to raise children.  However, it is also for all the socialists and greenies whose motivations have found a similar basis in real life; and most of those people, will have a bit of a different concept of being unhoused.  White skin people tend to be more likely to equate lack of housing with fear of finding the cold painful, (while darker skin people are more likely to be more sensitive to pain from heat: proving that skin colour is related to both culture and environment, which is a fact that is normally just too obvious to mention), and in much of the world, where homelessness is most devastating, it is from the endurance of the cold that people realise how to value their labour.  If you have never spend a night without a roof over your head, (or even a tent etc.), I recommend you try to at least once, because even if all your ancestors were European, and had real reason to fear being left out in the cold at night, here in Australia, most of the time it is survivable and nice.  If socialists want an underclass to make a revolution, then it is important to first realise what the experiences of that underclass are like.  It actually does not take much at all to push almost anybody into not being afraid of losing their house, but if anybody tried it on my sons, they’d have no success at all.  Why could I write that?  It is not because my sons are afraid of the stars, but perhaps rather afraid of the city, and because I foster that fear in them as a healthy way to stay alert and attentive.  In cities, it is only inside houses where a person can let their guard down.  Yet I still reckon that anybody might be capable of realising that there is no reason to fear not having a house, so long as it isn’t snowing.  The point is, do we want people to not have a fear of homelessness to lose, or is that far into “nothing to lose”, actually counterproductive for the cause of socialism.  Either way, it is a fear which needs to be tackled head on every time a downturn in the building market happens.

In every big city, and even most country towns, there are those whom have no house to call their home.  The larger the city, the more startling to the sensibility of people in houses, are the situations in which those without houses exist.  Perhaps you might know a few stories about those unhoused people and communities around the world.  Often movies are made about the ones who escape their housing crisis, by one means or another.  There are folk singers who sing songs about having been unhoused, and even a radio presenter who relates the tale of his own time living on the streets.  In a way these people belong in the popular subconscious as sort of modern day folk heroes, but what about those who never quite arrive back into the mainstream society to be able to relay their stories?  On the whole, their stories are all the more shocking and in need of being told; but need to be told in a way which prevents any repetition.

There is an American movie by Martin Scorsese, which is named for the stretch of time in which one ordinary man experiences the underworld of his city.  The reality of that story, is that the streets of New York city, really are very weird late at night, and the story seems totally unbelievable, yet is not too far from the truth of many people’s experience.  Yet New York is quite variable in what anybody might be likely to experience after dark.  Being such a very large city, it is more variable than others might be, because the large population, combined with high population density, causes that there is a higher concentration of unusual events occurring in any one place at any one time.  By comparison to New York city, Brisbane city really must be considered rather tame and safe.  Yet to a young person who grew up in a town like Toowoomba, the city streets at night in Brisbane, are just as weird and wonderful as the Martin Scorsese character finds his own city to be.  I would challenge anybody living here in Brisbane, to miss the last train home without any money in their pocket, and find the night anything except weird.  It is a feature of cities that experiences are weird.  The challenge for us all, thereby, is to access the heart of how human beings relate to what is weird about cities, and use that to shock ourselves into more accurately attributing the value of labour.

There is an American anthropologist who made a PhD thesis, about that portion of the New York city, “underclass”, who are already living so far outside of the normal mainstream society, that there are now adults living, who were born and raised in the tunnels underground.  Born in the tunnels that house New York’s subways, sewerage, wiring, and a funny old system by which rich men used to be able to receive pneumatic mail deliveries.  They have their own modern language, which is spoken as a first language. Clearly the unhoused deserved the space.  Brisbane is not nearly so sophisticated in the social organisation and accommodation regulation among those without houses, as New York is, but there are both pregnant women, and women with young children, among Brisbane’s homeless, whom I have occasioned to met in the Brisbane streets, at the coffee vans which charities provide.  The charities which provide those services here in Australia, are normally able to assist anybody with a baby on the way, or young children, to find a social service which can organise housing, and are more likely to remove the children when a parent is not compliant with the conditions of those social services.  That is, even if the housing which has been organised, is in a small flat in a dangerous neighbourhood, surrounded by the same situations which drove the parent onto the streets in the first place.  Life is full of reminders that the modern domestic housing market, is a new social phenomenon, and perhaps never was sustainable.  Caravan parks are also quite new, but already very entrenched aspects of society, on the other hand.  Motor-home and boat shows are newer, and more popular than display homes.  So how much difference is there really between the Australian experience and underground dwellers in New York City, where it does snow.  In my life, not enough difference that I am not grateful for every night of safe comfortable rest.  I also know that simple gratitude is when anybody begins to recognise what having enough is, so learning to be grateful is one of the essential ingredients of preventing the greenhouse effect.  None of the existing socialist democracies were built without socialists being grateful.  Having gratitude, is how most of us remember to pay the rent or mortgage.  It is also at the heart of the lesson of Aboriginal culture, about still having life even when all else was lost.  So perhaps it’s really just a pity that there are not yet bicycle touring shows, and build-your-own-humpy kits for sale.  Although, there was that cardboard box manufacturer in the USA, which started to produce a cardboard box with a sloped roof so that the snow didn’t pile up on top; seriously.

That there is an underclass now in existence, cannot be refuted, but we can best question why they are often ill inclined to organise themselves more effectively, and even ill inclined towards socialism, when we ourselves have some experiential understanding of their lives.  My own perspective, is that sustaining an overt identification as being a member of an “underclass” is further disenfranchising of many people who could be overtly externally labelled with that identification, and in fact, it is so far disenfranchising of a few of such persons, that they fall into despair more frequently, and are less inclined to want to attempt to prove that they are worth being given a job.  Even if a person is not likely to get a job, they need to be sure that it is not because of their own failings, and so need the social value of being worthy of having a job. Then also, at the bottom line for the homeless, whether in New York or Brisbane, what they still have to lose, is more than a welfare income to buy grog with, because for many it is their life.  They live in fear of being criminal violence, which is a fear that does not help the socialist cause in the slightest. Whereas, those persons whom receive government pensions and unemployment allowances, who yet today identify still as the “working class”, sustain an attitude about their social function, in which the analysis of socialism has far greater relevance.  That is, even among those who sleep rough.  When they believe in the value of their labour, even if they are an underclass in economic terms, people will always prefer to identify as a working class, and also always tend to find a socialist analysis more personally affable from within that identity.  If anybody doubts this, try to validate the story by talking to women who work as prostitutes, about how they value their self esteem.  Surely if an underclass could ever have caused an economy to so much as resemble socialism, without a working class supporting them, nobody would have ever needed to resort to prostitution.  That argument doesn’t work, of course, if you isolate your considerations to any specific national economy, but it is applicable a more general analysis of the social forces in every nation which are causal to prostitution.

Now all this so far, is just outlining the basic analysis I am starting this booklet with, and the aim is hereafter, is to establish you, the reader, on a journey of discovery about how identification interacts with social analysis.

Another obvious aim of this booklet, is to establish the ideal within our own willing mind, that we can sustain a self decent and healthy quality of life without needing so much money and commodities as the society at large is constantly teaching everybody to want to have.  It might not be what everybody will need to experience, but for some of us, especially who have grown up without poverty so much as being mentioned to us by our parents, there is worth in placing oneself temporarily among the destitute, only to learn that the experience of not having “enough” (however much enough is) can be survived.

For example, how much is it that we believe we need to eat each day to sustain good health?  How much warmth do we need to be able to have a good night’s sleep?  What is our own bottom line in respect of what we need to have around us in order to sustain our own sense of personal safety and sanctity?  If it happens to us, even for a few moments, minutes, or hours, that we feel violated by lack of personal space, are we also then, there, in that feeling of the violation of the spaces around us, also able to continue to feel immediately inclined towards promoting the social organisations of socialism as the answer?

Perhaps most socialists don’t need to take that step of having to experience even a day without the sanctity of at least one room in which their belongings can be locked up in safety, and it is enough only to have to worry about how to pay the rent for that one room, as well as electricity to heat it, and food. But perhaps also more Australians today, need to realise that the housing crisis of the depression, here in Australia, is still within living memory, and that the older tradition of swagmen, has an omnipresent quality and is constantly being sustained by a group of transient older men, who move in and out of the towns and cities of Australia.

Swagmen have often enough been at the heart of all social change here in Australia, because in the past they have been who kept real communication fluid between various locations.  Perhaps we all know of a few of our friends who tend to relocate more often, and also tend to move in and out of a larger variety of social contexts.  Australian culture has always reserved a place of valuing the social contribution of such persons, whose existence is normally really very lonely, but whom are normally also welcomed in many social contexts for the worth of the information they provide, even when what they have to tell might challenge everybody else.  Certain parts of the socialist analysis here in Australia, has always belonged to those who are real swagmen, and perhaps are still active in that function today.  At least the police seem to believe so, since there are also ASIO operatives who get around as swagmen. In today’s Australia, of 2008, the fact of the matter is that the normal haunts of swagmen, are being infiltrated by undercover police who are determined to prove that non-capitalist supporting ideals might all belong only to the worst sorts of criminals.  Yet having evidence of that fact, still today substantially empowers the real swagman tradition, as it ever has been thus empowered by its enemies.  Swagmen are essentially one of the social categories which came about through intermarriage between Aborigines and immigrants, and all of those social categories have an enduring value.  A Swagman’s value to us today is simply the evidence of survival, just as it has always been.  The less popular they are with the police, they more they seem to prove their case strangely enough.

This booklet is, underneath all that analysis, a proposition.  In authoring it, I am proposing to you who are city dwelling readers, that you accept a challenge, and undertake spending a weekend sleeping rough in your own local city.  I have a series of suggestions about how that sort of experiential lesson might be enabled within relative safety.  And then, for those of you who can accomplish that challenge, I have a suggestion for a method by which to raise money for the socialist organisation to which you yourself belong.  If there is too much danger to yourself, or one among your group of friends who you will be working through the ideas in this booklet with, to go sleeping out in the streets at night, then choose any available campsite; or anywhere you can find space for a swag.  It could even be effective to simple lock yourself out of your own house for the weekend, and have to sleep in your own backyard.  The challenge I am setting you is to find the experience valuable.

The particular money raising idea, which you may, or may not, thereafter be inclined to work with for fundraising, is not of my own origin, and there are many examples of such things as “dark side of town tours”, taking place in many of the world’s major tourist destinations.  Brisbane, where this booklet is being written, with a hope to make it applicable also to other major Australian cities, is in a particularly odd sort of set of social relations caused by the tourism industry, that make it potentially a suitable venue.  Brisbane is more parochial than any other Australian State capital, and on any given day, is also turning over a higher percentage of tourism revenue.  That specific combination engages the whole city in an unusually unpleasantly biased notion of how to acquire money, and in which some of the extremes of the capitalist-sponsoring, and capitalist-supporting, sorts of psychological anathema, are more blatant than in most places; that is despite Brisbane being a slight bit less blatant in its manner than are many other Australian cities.  There are more cover ups taking place in Brisbane, which tends to be a sign of a worse set of social relations being sponsored by the economy.  Other facts about Brisbane, are that there is a high influx of population from other parts of Australia, and even though unemployment is lower here, not many people on lower incomes move here and achieve moving into a higher income bracket.  Brisbane also has an unusually high proportion of American style evangelical churches, which sponsor a specific psychological process about how we regulate our money spending.  Queenslanders also, by contrast to the national average, donate less money per capita, to charity; which is a fact that proves the pudding within the total understanding of religious method.  Certain methods, have no ultimate viability, unless the use of those methods is never for personal gain.  All these facts relating to Brisbane, make it an ideal location to establish something like a “dark side of town” tour.  However, I have no legal rights over the name “dark side of town”, and neither would I be surprised if somebody were to try to use it for personal gain, by attempting to align it with the ideas in this booklet, so I need to instruct caution.  The basic idea is to take guided tours of something markedly negative about the city, yet to also, within that, point to the reality of human survival, as a positive outcome.  It is an idea built in the belief that cities are worth being afraid of, and that sometimes when young people are using drugs and engaging in other anti-social behaviour, what they really want is to learn a reason to find life more frightening.  It is not a specially useful idea for the bush, but out there, every place has its own tours already. Many people in modern society, really want to experience unusual events, and are conscious that the lives we live, are become too easy for real viability.  That is why they pay to get involved with extreme sports and to hike in the Himalayas, etc.  The point of the idea for an “after dark tours” company, is that if somebody will pay to learn their own personal and interpersonal limits by trekking in Nepal, there is a good chance that somebody else will pay to learn the same lesson by spending a few nights in a similarly difficult predicament on the streets of Brisbane, the beaches of Sydney, or perhaps just alone in the bush for a night, which is what rich people pay other rich people to do to their children.

Apparently in Paris you can pay to be taken on a tour of the underground train subways and sewerage, as an ordinary curious tourist.  In New York, the actual individual whom Jerry Seinfeld based the character of Kramer on, has cashed in his reputation by undertaking the task of developing another sort of alternative tour of that part of Manhattan, which tourists pay to be taken on.  The challenge of this booklet, is to discover what sort of a tour, might be able to be proven to be a financially viable commodity for sale to tourists, here in Brisbane, and in any Australian city you happen to live in, or any other part of Australia also.

I happen to know that the least savoury component of Brisbane’s night life, is something that possibly many might pay to be taken on guided tours of, that being the nightclubs which sponsor sadomasochist relations in public; but I am not going to enable the lessons inside this booklet be used for that purpose, and will rather hope that you can figure out something more savoury than others have as the solution to the question of what sort of a tour to do.  One idea is of a Brisbane City Treasure Hunt, which I have previous made and sold copies of, and in this context, it is no more than an example of the sort of smaller booklet, which anybody might be able to produce to test the tourist market, to find out what sort of “dark side of town” tours, are viable as a method of raising money for socialist organisations.  What is the real treasure that anybody ever hunts, when, for example, they are window shopping?  What is the appeal of the shops? Simply selling a treasure hunt, which is also a guided tour of a city, I have proven to be a realistic and viable idea, (despite the police having not been too keen on me proving that, because they have me listed as a known socialist agitator).  If you can nail that simple appeal which certain shops hold for certain people, and attach that appeal to a lesson in socialism, or a lesson in sustaining a culture which disallows the capitalist mode of production, then perhaps you can make a profitable venture out of teaching what will eventually cause there to be no further possibility of profits.  Consider this: when you spend money, are you attempting to buy an object of desire, or, are you attempting to assert a right to learn about why you desired that object?  The treasure hunt is just a set of instructions for travelling through the city by a set route of public transport, and having a look at the city; but it has tricky questions to answer about what you might be able to see, and a prize at the end if you send your answers back and it is alright.  The prize might be just another treasure hunt.

This book is going to meander through discourse in a few different ideas which are seldom placed together.  It is my express advice to you for reading it, that you enable yourself to be in a situation in which the surroundings are unfamiliar, inescapable, and essentially very boring, before you begin the rest of this book.  Those sort of material conditions make the brain chemistry more conducive to learning, and to reading difficult material.

I will put another caution here also.  In investigating the idea of after dark tours myself, somebody suggested to me that loads and loads of money could be made from taking tourists on guided tours of the nightclubs where sadomasochism is practised.  That highlights the problem this book is attempting to thwart, and no such use of the information in this booklet is legitimate. 

Even mentioning the word sadomasochism is distressing because of needing to introduce it as a new English word to traditionally oriented Aboriginal readers.  However it is a word which has a direct application to the story that this book is being made to defeat.  How capitalist money-tricks work, is always be a very subtle aspect of use of sado-masochism.  What goes on in the nightclubs, is not too different from a Vicar who keeps on offering his Parishioners more and more and more tea and cake after the Church service, so as to bring more guilty faces to communion.  Wearing high heeled shoes is another obvious example.  Sadomasochism is a word with a specifically defined use, however the same psychological phenomenon, is widespread, and is at the heart of why any of us let the capitalist economy mask its tricks.  It is extremely significant also, that much of the behaviour which prison inmates are being forced into, is sadomasochist.  That is the behaviour by which something in the prison system has been trying to thwart the beneficial effect of traditionally oriented Aboriginal initiations.  Therefore, it eventually becomes obvious that such behaviour, and the high incarceration rate of Aboriginal men, is functionally supporting the masking of the real negative relationships caused by capitalism.

Nobody who opposes capitalism can afford to forget that.

 

The information I hope to be able to impart to you in the next section of this booklet is:

A detailed set of religious concepts, about which belief to, is held in common by crime gangs and millionaires alike, and within which they seek to perpetrate the accumulation of capital, but within which, their abuse of the methods and psychological concepts from religion, can adequately disprove their own methodology, with the same degree of success as they had, in using the very same methodology, to trick the popular collective subconscious in the first place.

That information about religious beliefs, is interwoven with clues, which simplify the whole set of religious concepts, into some basic instruction, that can enable access to the whole lesson of this booklet more readily, within a Christian based belief, and without getting bogged down in the difference between a dogma, a social construct, and a scientific fact.

 

The Basic Set of Religious Concepts

The concepts I will be detailing in this section of this booklet, are able to be sourced in many of the world’s major religious, and also, within that definition of religions, I am including the more thorough of the world’s indigenous belief systems, which are more often referred to as a “cosmology” rather than a religion.  These are ideas which you may be already familiar with, without having ever realised that these are religious dogma.  My own upbringing was Christian, but in a context that was outside the Church, after the age of about fourteen, and so my intellectual development happened entirely in secular and scientific mainstream Australian contexts, as well as in the left wing, and also among a few people who know a lot about natural health care therapies, in which I became lead into specific study, of medical science combined with natural medicine, which lead me directly back into conceiving a need to research in religious texts. 

In this booklet, for various reasons, it is not necessary to source the original material, and neither necessary for yourselves to know which religion any portion of it came from originally.

The religious concepts which I will be describing in mostly secular language, and for mental processes conditioned by secular thought, are about the following:

1.    What is a Human Conscience, and how we reconcile our understanding into being willing or not willing in each moment. (page 18 if this is 15)

2.    What is our understanding of the “world”, the “universe”, “life”, “matter”, the “sun”, “stars”, and “moon”, and the simplicity of just existing : The concept of “Existence”, and why anybody ever seeks to define it; and what other rigid structures of thought we tend to have a need to work towards establishing social agreement upon, such as whether any concepts of “spirituality” have any relevance for socialism. (page 23 if this 15)

3.    How we know what reality is, and what dominates our perceptions.(23)

4.    Archetypes, obligations, ancestors, and other tales. (page 61 if this 16)

5.    Why fear exists, and various known methods for managing it. (page 70 if this 16)

6.    Various definitions of what “the spirit” is, within a scientific analysis of immutable laws, such as gravity.(23)

7.    The highs and lows of living, and what defines that experience of feeling “high”, and what worth might there ever have been to anybody in holding to belief in a singular unifying creator.(23)

While these seven points can be regarded as a set of seven steps to take your own mental processes through, while remembering the whole of this discourse, I have written about the basic concepts in only four sections.  First is a part about the conscience, then a part which covers the concepts numbered as 2, 3, 6, and 7, which are all structured into a single essay about what defines the concept of having a “spirituality”, why it can be a relevant concept for socialists, and what is dangerous in relating to the concept of spiritual existence.

You might notice that my punctuation is at times difficult, and my sentences are long.  I am not setting out to make this booklet an easy read, or contain readily discernable meanings, because some of the information I am providing, is information that is proven to be dangerous.  Do not assume that you are comprehending what I am communicating.  If you want to ask somebody, you can try to ask your questions in any of the many various religious institutions of this society, or asking any of your friends or relations with whom you already have a stable basis of shared understanding, and that could prove more useful that asking me; or, if you are still stuck with the comprehension, but also still curious, then try sending me an e-mail, at curaezipirid.matildaswaltz@gmail.com  

At the bottom line, what you will be able to believe in is defined by your own unique experience of the world, combined with your unique capacity to perceive causation.  My own explanations are no more than what has worked for my own brains, in the process of re-entering a perception of the world structured by religious beliefs, after many years living and believing in, only the secular world, and with science as the most important mode of belief.  You may find that there are other very religious persons, with a great load of knowledge in various scriptures or whatever, whom will want to attempt to disprove what I am writing.  That is sort of inevitable, and it will be their bad luck to try, since I know my own knowledge and comprehension of religious doctrines is thorough, and here, written in these specific words in this booklet, my own words are for the application of providing some explanations to those whose mode of belief is secular, scientific predominantly, and already acknowledging itself as socialist at heart.  If anybody wants to dispute with me, you are welcome also to send me an e-mail, but I will not be entering into discourse about the definitions implicit in specific words and phrases.  If you just don’t want to believe what I am writing, you don’t need to bother to inform me, because I possibly already know.  My own interpretations of various religious concepts are at odds with many other persons whom can be regarded as having official authority within religious institutions, however, normally, the scope of the disagreement is defined by why what I believe in, is essentially socialist, whereas what they believe in, is enabling and supporting of capitalism.  At the bottom line, every individual makes their own choices, about how to understand and interpret their own experiences of the environmental conditions we are subject to, yet the real evidence of the world, is that our choices are always far more limited than those who own the means of production in a capitalist economy, want us to believe.  Sourcing those points in time where and when a small change in the direction of our behaviour, can have a large impact, is the business which this book is all about the discovery of.  That we need not let profiteering motivations command that knowledge, is the basis of this booklet.

Religious Concept 1: Why we have a conscience, and what the conscience is.

There is a basic analysis within every religion, which says that one day, something went wrong, and therefore, not everybody is always living perfectly.  Therefore also, because we fail ourselves by how we behave towards one another, and how we treat our body, that something which went wrong, which is really nobody’s fault much, apart from the fact of Adam and Eve having eaten of forbidden fruit, and only as we each find ourselves enacting today all too frequently, because of all of that, we are often all quite abnormal in our thinking processes. 

One neat definition of the human spirit, is the mental capacity to form a sequence of associations.  In my associative mind, I notice that sometimes I smell a smell that reminds me of a time in my childhood, because my mind formed an association between that smell and a childhood time and place.  The leap of faith out of an abnormal process of thinking, into accurate thought, says that therefore, around me now, there is something else alike to that same event in childhood, and that perhaps, my own next move, is already stuck in the pattern which began in my through my childhood experience, and so therefore, I am not in control of the situation, but simply a witness to the events of the world.  Don’t believe me about this though.  In fact, it is a part of the nature of the real religious definition of faith, that making a leap of faith, can never happen without realising that the world is full of constant evidence of whatever you are about to leap into believing.  So while I can advise you that it is useful to have a specific analysis of any and every human spirit, as being the embodiment of our associative mental processes, I have to also warn you that realising why that is a beneficial framework of belief in what the word “spirit” means, might feel quite unfamiliar to respond to, and alike to having far less control of the world.  But, when all is said and done, have we really even any control of our own perceptions of the world, little own actual active control of the world.  When we realise how we became able to acknowledge socialism, could have been through a set of relatively unusual life experiences, and within a relatively unusual belief in our own self, then we also have a larger perception of what is preventing other people from becoming socialist; and that can be quite useful to know, so that we can work in the opposite direction.

Here is the crux of the matter.  In my associative mind, obviously, there has been a set of associations formed, which were inaccurate to my own internal experience, because the environment, and the situation in which a mother can rouse on a child without the child having been wrong, is causing the child’s mind to contain a set of associations with being wrong, when in fact the child might have been correct. 

It does not have to be even as scary as having a mother give her child a mild rebuke about some matter in which the child was not wrong.  What about being at school, and having a more accurate set of information than the teacher, but the teacher not asking you to provide your own information to the class.  You do not even have to go so far as to assert your higher quality information, and have the teacher tell you it is wrong, to just find yourself becoming unable to trust that educational institutions award and attribute their marks of intelligence accurately, when in childhood, you sit one school year in a class with a teacher whom is clearly less intelligent than you are.  A fear of not having your own integrity acknowledge might only too easily have developed.  The work to prevent such fears from making us seem to be people who lack integrity, needs to have another experience, of actually having been acknowledged, before there is enough trust for you in educational institutions, to even want to ask to be acknowledged.  Most primary schools tacitly acknowledge these facts, by placing their best teachers with the children who are in their first and last years of schooling, since those years are when children are more impressionable to the effect of education.  Year nine or ten in high school is another time when children need more intensive experiential lessons in succeeding, and also around year three or four in primary school.  Times when children experience a transition in their own comprehension of how to learn.

So I have established that the human spirit is only too vulnerable to being instructed in false associations.  That is why we are not all already socialists obviously.  It is also why, in religious methodology, almost everybody is always instructed to use their conscience above any other factor when it comes to decision making.  The only example in which that might not be the case, is when people have been so poorly behaved, that the parts of their body which the “conscience” connects to, have become inoperative.  That is the parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous system.  The conscience, by which we can feel the difference between wrong and right, is no more than how our emotions warn us of how to sustain the feelings of being safe.  Our conscience picks up on fear of behaviourally careering towards death, more accurately than our mind can often enough.  So to follow how we feel is often the best solution.  The exemption to that, is when we need to use one single fear, and resisting how we feel about that particular fear, as a method to cure ourselves of a negative feeling which has become blown out of all proportion, usually through having been accused and blamed by somebody else who wants to make money out of us.

The example I used with my acquaintance who imagined she could blame all her spending money on a house, on myself, is not so bitchy as it might seem, when put into the context of knowing that the entirety of the ruling elite of capitalism, who are spending large sums of money very regularly, have been accusing and blaming the entire working class of being lazy, as their method.  That is a simplification of what is going on, which prevents workers from overthrowing capitalism today.  It is the obvious simplification which we all recognise, but underneath the surface, there is a bit more going on around how the accusations and blaming might be effecting some of us more than others.  I, for one, used to fall down often into imaging being lazy, and then manifesting that fact for myself in how I managed my washing up in the kitchen sink.  But then I learned how to fear the consequences of being lazy, by my bottom fear having been isolated and acknowledged in my conscious mind, in which I became highly motivated to work against that outcome eventuating.  I won.  I succeeded, not in preventing my fall into what I am afraid of, but in diminishing the extent of how far I fall in that direction, and in the process, it happens also that I began to like to wash the dishes more often.  Yet while struggling with washing the dishes, which still could possibly be washed even more often around at my house, I also became far less lazy in every other aspect of my life.  There were ways in which previously, I would never have thought of myself as lazy, but in which I have also found it in my capacity to work harder, until it is now habit to work harder in every aspect of my life.  But in all that time, I was never working for the benefit of a capitalist supporting social structure, and still today, find that I feel quite resentful about any work which might be sustaining of capitalism.  I work for my children, and for myself, to achieve personal goals, and enjoy that I am more capable than I ever was when working for money, and have achieved a set of unpredictable and unlikely results, with which I have opened up more possibilities than could have existed before.

We all know this, that it is work that achieves everything worth achieving, but we often do not realise what work will be more effective for each of us at any one time.  Just as the world is unable to condition every child into a fearless future, the world is also unable to acknowledge the work that is most effective, and within which we really feel good in making our work a contribution to society.  This just serves to underline the reasoning within which we all sustain a socialist analysis of the capitalist mode of production, within which we are inspired to work towards a socialist outcome.  Yet many more persons have that inspiration than those who are active in socialist organisations, and trade unions, and the key to why, is because we need to let our conscience over-ride the decision making processes which are inhabited by undetected fears.  Most of us who are involved in socialist organisations, hold with less fear in the world than most other persons.  Most of us have had relatively sheltered upbringings, and many of us feel some sort of obligation to put that self decent upbringing to the greater good of the whole society.  If we do not trust the motivation of working for the greater good, which is quite normal since some folk use money to force everybody to feel accused of not working for the greater good, then we know in our hearts that socialist solutions are also our own best self interest.  When we find any facet of society, in which concepts of the greater good of humanity, converge with self interest, then we know we are onto a winner; but often enough those solutions are not found by intellect, and rather by simply following what feels right.  The conscience is the essential instrument of working out how to buy into our social structures, without causing more harm than good.

Often we are able to notice that when we follow our feelings of wrong versus right, and are making the correct behavioural choices, that our actions comply with patterns of behaviour which accord a higher level of intellectual consideration, than we might have noticed in the first instance.  One example of this is in the patterns by which we tend to seek out the evidence of science.  When we rely upon how we were taught in high school science lessons, about setting parameters for a test, and using a laboratory, as a neutral location for testing the parameters of a variable within, then we tend to fail to notice how much more effectively science experiments can achieve results, by acknowledging the variability of the environment.  If we try to test an unchanging object, by letting variation in the environment influence it, then we learn really far more about what the potential for variance really is.  ‘Was the object unchanging under every environmental influence?’ Is a more stringent formulation of scientific enquiry, than asking  ‘What sort of changes are we able to cause within this “unchanging” environment?’  But most science is not particular attentive to the potential for making much stronger scientific discoveries through use of the human conscience, as the mode by which we make our choices.  Think of this whenever you assess your own experiential evidence of the world, then act as you feel is right.

 

Religious concepts 2, 3, 6, and 7:  What meaning is relevant for Socialists in concepts of having a Spirit, or spirituality, and what defines reality.

There are many various ways in which the concept of “spirituality” has been defined, and often all of those seem totally irrelevant in the political world.  One definition which worked for me, is that an individual person’s “spirituality” is their individual relationship with that which is most important to their being.  Another thing I read in another place, is that a human “Spirit” is simply the embodiment of real thought associations.  That a “Spirit” is also often defined as a body, is that a spirit, is understood in most cultures, to be a sort of loosely bound together gang of gaseous molecules that hang around together.  The molecules and atoms, etc, which tend to consolidate into a specific form, even if science has not yet found any bonds as strong as the covalent, ionic, or hydrogen bonds of solid matter, binding those gaseous molecules together, can often be detected by any sensitive human biochemistry.  Sometimes we detect a smell, or notice something in our imagination which was not a real solid object, but which seemed to be existing for a second or so, or perhaps, (but this next detail has a far more complicated explanation), we might see inside our mind, what could, or could not, have been existing at another place and time.  Basically, if there was no such thing as “spirit”, you would not ever have any dreams, or any images of anything possible in any time and space reference, apart from what is here now in the real world of solid physical objects.  What is on your mind now, that is not your immediate physical sensation to the immediate environment?  Whatever it is that is on your mind right now, and is not belonging in the immediate frame of reference of collectively agreed upon localised reality, is your spirituality.

How real is what I have just written in your own mind and within your own set of interpretations of what defines any fact as real?  Obviously religious belief exists, right?  As socialists, we might not ourselves want to identify with religious belief, or in organised religious institutions, but we have to acknowledge that there are many people, many of whom are quite highly intelligent, who believe in religious experiences.  We would be plain rude to discount that the experience of at least a few of those people, has to have validated their belief, otherwise they could not be sustaining it.  Somebody once said to me that he believes in Islam as far as he believes that one fifth of the world’s whole population can’t be wrong.  That is a fairly accurate method of assessment of any religious belief system.  So what about good old Karl Marx, and his stable analysis of religion being the opiate of the masses? 

I think I agree with Marx in this.  I am particularly well informed about opiates and the experiences of opiate users, for a person who is not an opiate user, however.  Sure enough, opiate use is internally experienced as something very similar to a religious believer’s passion at its most zealous, but a religious believer needs to really work quite hard to earn that sort of “uplifting” experience, whereas drug users just shoot it up and lay back and wait.  Remember that in Karl Marx’s life time, opium was exclusively used by the wealthy.  Perhaps he might have been advocating for religion as a tool for actual pain relief, among all those whose lives are unbearable without any pain relief.  I don’t know if Marx himself had ever had an opiate prescribed for him, yet the comprehension of the world which opiates tend to enable, is very attuned to the world of religious believers. 

The assembly of fragments of matter into a total unified operational whole, known as the world, is perceived by people while using opiates.  The pleasure they acquire comes from being devious minded within their witness, and attempting to manipulate the matter that the world is composed of, to their own advantage.   Within that experience, any heroin addict, becomes acutely aware that some of the laws of religious people’s belief, cannot be broken, as they seem to apply to spirit, in the same way as the laws of physics apply to gravity, and other rather more obvious laws, among a set of universal laws which religious believers relate to.  Their addiction is, as much as it is anything else, the comprehension they gained while in the more pleasant effect of the drug, that religious law, (or “true law” as in traditional Aboriginal cultures), demands that their body accept a penalty for obtaining knowledge without first having earned it; and so they seek to try to disprove that particular aspect of the laws of religious belief, but by using heroin again, which tends rather to re-embody the understanding of the inevitable in their brains.  Heroin also has a feature of causing that the users find that their experience will be all the more expensive for them, in the expenses of a painful detoxification, if they let anybody else know about what is going on inside their mind while using, and so it is not normally possible to readily extract the information about what opiates cause, from anybody who uses opiates.  That is despite the fact that giving that knowledge to somebody who can put it to good use, could also ease the feelings of needing the drug. 

What Karl Marx was intending to express, is something which perhaps might have always been as devious an expression as any opiate users, but we also might never know.  Meanwhile, the point I need to make here, is that there are religious type people, who do not use drugs, but whom seem to be just as misinformed and addicted as any heroin addict, and whom have been asserting that it is possible to substantiate that religious methodology can be used to cause the same effect as an opiate addiction, but without the opiates.  Curiously enough, those same religious type people, who tend to become addicted to concepts like the “uplifting” nature of the body of the church, and like to participate in faith healings, etc, are also often enough, attempting to defy another part of the totality of religious law, and most often, they want to defy the aspects of religious law which apply to monetary profits.  Getting uplifted again, or being re-baptised by full immersion, or singing at choir in pretty costumes when there are dirty socks needing washing, are all often enough addictive behaviours held to by religious believers.  Just as a drug addiction has a physical explanation, there is also a physical explanation for any other aspect of religious experience.

It is important to remember that the first scientists and doctors, in every culture, have always been the religious men.  Religion, in its essential core, is alike a science of spirit, like psychology, and within that, there is consistent observation that the most successful psychological processes, are those in which a person can “give up” their own decision making processes, to a higher power, in which a person can become an embodiment of the will of that higher power, and hence the terms about being “willing”,  having “will power”, and sayings like “where there’s a will there’s a way”, come to exist.  Where religious methods are used by devious persons, is when individuals attempt to establish themselves as that “higher power”.  Yet we all, even in socialist organisations, tend to like to want to give in our own individuality, to the embodiment of the highest degree of consensus which we are, in unity, able to find.  God is defined in the exact same way.

The Upanishards in India define three modes of belief in God’s existence.  Remember these belong in a religion which enables god-heads, or individuals who everybody is allowed to worship through, but who are multiple, rather than defined as one.  Yet within that same form of religious belief, the priest castes, tend to sustain a belief in one god, but that is not normally part of religious belief being made accessible to the masses.  Islam is the point in human history, only 1400 odd years ago, in which belief in one God really became accessible for anybody who was not already literate.  Hindu belief is useful because it explains how there are three distinct frames of reference for belief in one god, from the point of view of also sustain a cultural system which need not supply belief in one god.

The three ways of understanding god, are two dualist, and one non-dualist way.  Interestingly, the two dualist ways arose first in the region of the middle east, while the non-dualist way, historically arose first in the far east of Asia, but now today, dualist models are more common in far east Asia, while the middle east has the non-dualist belief of Islam.  That mode of belief has a focus on faith in the real world as defined by our physical sensibilities.  It says, God is not what you imagine, God is not able to be personified, God is a part of, within and without, every particle of living matter, God is the unifying function of the cosmos, in the endless unity of which all matter is coherent with all other matter, therefore, if it exists, it exists because God is.  The basic analysis says that nobody can truly comprehend God, because to comprehend God is to simultaneously, at the same time, comprehend all matter in one instant, and reality defies us being able to.  It is the proof of God by what disproves anything.  The dualist models of belief in God, might be more familiar.  The first one, is more alike to Judaism, and establishes that the Universe is like a mechanism, and God is the only control, as a distinct function, and that therefore, nothing happens that is not within God’s will to be causing.  Normally that mode of belief in God, is too difficult to sustain for folk who have experienced bad things happening, because we must then accept that perhaps God might not have been willing to prevent those bad things.  The understanding in a more thorough sense, says that the full extent of comprehension of cause and effect, is just so complex, that we might not have known that if we wanted something better to be happening to us, then it would have been necessary for an even worse thing to happen in another time and place.  The most basic comprehension necessary is that nobody can feel love without realising that when pleasure exists, so must pain exist.  The third mode of belief in God, is like both those two somewhat reconciled, and is by far the most common.  It is more like the model which says that there is a universe which we are cogs in the mechanism of, and then there is God, who is the only operational being of the mechanism.  However, within that, it is also established that we can individually, as just one tiny cog in the whole mechanism, communicate through the major working parts of the mechanism’s local function to our own, until we are enabled to be in direct communication with God, who might thereby become more effectively enabled to put the grease just exactly as we need.  It is this third model in which Christian Churchs, exist, and god-heads in many religions, and in which worship is often enabled through Saint Cults, (the Saint cults of the Mediterranean region are the same, no matter whether the population is Muslim or Christian), and through Aboriginal rock art of Wandjina.  When there is any level of personification of a functional capacity to communicate with God, it is this third mode of belief in One God which is functional.

That ought to be enough really, to also define the whole universe and the very existence of matter.  The start of the definition goes like this: God exists, he notices that place/location/space exists also, and he is at it; next he notices that the place he is at deteriorates in time, and he wants to prevent that deterioration, having now also noticed time; he causes that other beings exist, whose work is to prevent time causing deterioration to space, through their existence accepting some of the burden of God’s own sorrow about that deterioration.  Basically, the whole of religion is based in a belief in which we cannot believe in our own existence, except within belief that there is a need for suffering; and yet, the oddest thing about it is, that religious methods are also very adept at enabling that suffering is reduced, by teaching a model of social values, in which our perceptions of what is necessary to suffer, and what is unnecessary to suffer, can be rearranged.  The methodology of religion therefore, is totally bound up with engaging the human psychology in awarding valuation to specific belief, as of higher or lower value, within our need to regulate our biology for sustaining that belief.  Perhaps now you will understand why that methodology needs to be in the hands of socialists, and environmentalists, rather than capitalists.  If not, re-read these paragraphs, and discuss my discourse with other people who are reading it.

Perhaps you might already be conceiving of how it comes to be, that for religious believers, the evidence that God exists, is as simple as the fact of anything existing at all.  If you exist, if I exist, if the birds and the bees and the trees, exist, we could not be in any way associating with one another, without it being true that the amorphous indefinable and indistinguishable, reality of god manifesting these things as possible, is also existent.  Therefore, do not go arguing with people who believe in God, against belief in God, because believers in God always win that argument in their own mind, to an even more assiduous degree than an atheist always wins in their own mind.  It is totally fruitless discourse to attempt to convince any person of belief one way or the other in respect of whether god is real; but it is useful to define the psychological processes within which belief in god is proven to be socially fruitful, and so useful to define the models of belief in god which happen to exist. (not by my own hand authoring were those models caused, neither the hand of any human being who happens to sustain real belief in: but rather it is only those who fail to believe in god but who claim to, who conspire to believe that they are causal to how belief in god will manifest: therefore, best let nature take its course in respect of whether a person sustains more healthy comprehension of their own personal responsibility in society and the world, as a believer in god, or a non-believer: and also take note of the fact that many believers in god, will often enough not identify that fact, because of the trashy reputations of those who say they believe but who cannot find themselves able to inhabit that belief)

Part of the religious teaching which exists in the esoteric schools of every religion, is a saying: “As Above, So Below”.  Accurate comprehension of the originally intended meaning of that saying, is essential in respect of preventing ourselves from being psychologically bullied by religious institutions, in respect of actual belief in god.  “Above” is normally associated with the heavens.  “A Heaven” is originally the verb form of the noun, “a star”, and so “being in heaven”, really only means having the mind fully associating with astrology, when attuned through a specific, individually well known, star or constellation.  “Good heavens above, do you mean to say that heaven is nothing but the stars in the sky, and understood as that by religious believers, in the exact same way as an astronomer understands the sky to exist?” Why yes, but of course.  The attuning of the mind with any specific star happens just by looking at it a lot, and is really only a basic mental attuning of the brain biochemistry, with the frequency of light being emitted, through the central nervous system tissue just behind the retina of the eyeball.  However, in the phrase “As Above, So Below”, above need not even be that high up, as a star.  What the saying means, is that when we want to study something existing in the world, we are usually deluding ourselves when we attempt to study it as we already know it; but, if we can study the same phenomenon, in its existence in a matter of a finer density, or larger form, and also in its existence in a matter of lesser lower density particles of matter, and usually smaller form, then we may one day spontaneously realise something new about what we want to have been studying.  So the study of human society, is known to be approachable, from above, through studying the stars, and from below, from studying the earth, both simultaneously, and thus sciences exist in every culture, such as Feng Shui, which is an astrology as well as understanding of the magnetic influences of objects in the environment.  More obviously perhaps, the same principal is applicable in modern medical science.  In university anatomy and physiology it is taught that an organ in the body, is defined by having a function which is more than the sum of its parts.  That is one way of saying that modern science can’t figure it all out, or, it is just saying that what defines the liver as distinct from the intestines and stomach etc, is that it has a distinct function which is not able to be explained by analysis of what a liver is made from.  In university biology and anatomy and physiology, we can learn that the liver is made specific types of cells, with well defined distinct functions as cells, and that the proportions of each type of cells in the liver are just so.  We can also learn, that in the whole human body, the liver plays certain known functions, which tend not to happen in cases of liver damage or liver disease.  Therefore, we know what a liver is.  Apart from that, it is just a blob of meat really, with a place in the body, and that has a duration of time through which it lasts.  We cannot, even as the owners of these bodies which need their liver function, comprehend what the liver is, outside of separating the space and time functions, short of studying the cells which comprise the liver, and also understanding how it effects the totality of our physiological processes.  Most of everything we comprehend, is analysed by differentiating time qualities from space qualities, eg, anatomy is the structure and the placement, while physiology is the function through time.  Why the physiological processes demand a certain anatomical structure, is totally beyond our comprehension.  Some of us can attune to reason within this, as belief in God, while others of us are unable to find reason apart from the simplicity of understanding time and space to be distinct phenomenon.  “As Above, So Below”, understand one person’s psychology (your own will be most useful), and then also the psychology of a whole city and country en masse, and you will perhaps begin to become better able to comprehend well the psychological processes of group organisations which you are a member of.

 

The point I am making, is that the saying “As Above, So Below”, has often been used by leaders of social institutions, as a religious dogma based rationalisation for demanding obedience to ill thought through rulings.  It does not mean that what exists above defines what can exist below, but it does mean that nothing in the middle has any really meaningful understanding, without considering what is influencing it from both below and above simultaneously.  This is just one, and very obvious example, of the abuse of religious meanings, by corrupting the language expressing those meanings, and creating dogma.

There is one other basic factual comprehension which I will place into this section.  What is it which is happening to us when we are dreaming?  I am going to give you a long winded explanation, and then writing out again more simply.

We might, or might not be, seeing something which is not exactly present in our bedroom with us, is it?  Yet we are not, while dreaming, being defined as in a hallucinatory, or delusional state, even though that is often exactly what is happening.  Most people who suffer mental illnesses of experiencing any sort of hallucinations, and also those who have sufficient cultural explanation and self control combined, so as that their hallucinations are called being clairvoyant, are only experiencing the exact same thing as everybody has at one time or another, while in bed asleep.  The point is, and this relates also to experiences obtained whilst using drugs, that what we might be seeing, (or hearing if it we are clairaudient, feeling if clairsentient, smelling if clair- there is a special word for the neuro-receptors of smell but I can’t remember it right now- etc.), that what we are sensing, with the same five senses which experience the real world, is not the physical world around us right now.  Therefore, what is it, and how is our body sensing it?

There is a fairly sound way of defining this, which accords to both enough of modern science, and religious belief systems.  Most people who sustain any comprehension of this way of understanding, have had dreams, in which a “body of light”, (normally either an Angel, or a demon, whoever you feel culturally inclined to believe in about yourself, when believing with your subconscious mind), is explaining where they are going when they are dreaming.  The basic comprehension is this: if you see something which is not there, but seems to be hanging around in the air, then it could be a lose collection of gaseous molecules which sort of came lose off another person nearby, usually because they decided to disregard any need to be attentive to what it is which was “on their mind”; but, if you see something which is not there, and you are only looking inside your own head, the chances are, that some particles of gaseous matter, which are accustomed to hanging around together assuming that their arrangement is something resembling human in form, (and which could be your own spirit, or your own body of emotional matter, like gaseous hormones, which is what an astral body is, either one other the other or both together), and which are actually a part of you your own person, but which for some reason are not inside your body right at that moment, perhaps because you were thinking about something other than your own immediate physical presence, and those gaseous particles hanging around together accustomed to belief in being you, have floated off into another time and space in which they/you needed some fresh air from a body, but your own body was not close by, and so you/your-gaseous-parts, popped in for a visit to another person’s life sustaining central nervous system and/or sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system, (it is central nervous system when a spirit body, and sympathetic/parasympathetic, when an astral body), and within that body, in another time and place, (being in another time is possible by travelling there higher up in the atmosphere than your own physical body is able to, and the distance away in time, is fully related to the distance away in space, which is able to be measured mathematically, and often referred to as measuring the “contours” of the shape of the surface of the land, as a measure of time), you/your-gaseous-body-parts, are having a look around, while remembering to be you, and perhaps the physical body of the person your gaseous bodies are visiting in, is either absent minded, or not noticing their surroundings, or even perhaps thinking of you, or wondering if there is anybody like you existing who might be interested in whatever you are both now sharing on your mind; and so thus, as your gaseous bodies are still connected to you by threads of gaseous substances, another time and place and other people and events, are in your mind.  This form of belief is normal in most cultures, just not normally portrayed openly.  A few folk seem to have gaseous body eyes, noses, hearts, etc, and be quite functional without being inside another physical body, but will usually also enter other people’s physical bodies, because other people seem to like having that happen, since it inspires feelings of will power, etc, and even enable more rapid accurate though.  Most of religious teaching is about how to perfect that gaseous body, which can only be perfected through perfecting the physical body, and the best gaseous bodies tend to like to be visiting in which ever physical bodies are behaving the best, in any specific moment.

Now for the simple definition.  The pictures we see, smells we smell, words we hear, etc, during dreams, actually come from other people’s real life experiences, if not from our own.  When we dream our own life story, we are actively feeling our own real body, either ahead or behind, in time, and that is the best way to dream.  Men dream the feelings of the future and perceive with imagery from the past, and women dream the feelings of the past with imagery from the future, as a general rule, and when sustaining best health, however there are many variations to that basic fact.  However, despite our constant self interest in being able to dream about our own real life, it happens that sometimes, usually when somebody has wanted to blame us for something in their life, that another person dreams of our story, and we dream of another person’s, and that is why when we have images in our mind, it is not always of exactly what is immediately viable to believe in as real.  When we are imagining, we are far more receptive than most folk want to believe, and the reason folk want to believe that they can actively imagine something improving, is because they like to expect that any improvements in the world, will be at their own personal disposal.  Capitalists really like to use religious methods and comprehensions, to “imagine” that they are going to get yet another block of wealth, of one form or another, yet most often what is happening, is that parts of their own individual existence, are imagining being a success which somebody else somewhere else worked for.  So the capitalist, (who could afford the good drugs and lessons in religious discipline), dreams of being able to pay for a house, while the interest rates go up, and somebody who they were employing, (and also blaming for being poor, because the capitalists imagine that they work harder than their employees, and they imagine that therefore they deserve their wealth), can’t afford their mortgage.  The capitalist is effectively robbing their employee of dreams.

If you can follow the whole sequence of logic by which I arrived at that statement, you might realise how much worse capitalism is than it seems to be through having an understanding of the basic maths.  The maths is bad enough surely, but in fact, the feelings of understanding how capitalism is corrupting true human feeling, are all the more frightening, because it is a more tangible comprehension to us, than the full facts of the mathematics of the monetary economy really can be.  That is, for those of us who tend to be foremost in understanding the world by our emotions.  Those who use thought associations more socially, are perhaps more inclined to argue that the mathematics is the bottom line of the major compelling truth to why we need a socialist analysis.  Either way works to prove the same truth.  If you are still struggling with the way I am presenting this information, and the basic concept of any spiritual belief being real, then go back to the idea of each of us having gaseous parts of who we are, which actually travel to and from our body.  We might have a few other bodies besides the physical one, which are all comprised of gaseous matter, and exist within the physical one, but can also move in and out of it, or perhaps we only have an occasional extra gaseous hand, or eye, etc.  “Spirit” substance, is only as different from the physical world, as is the almost invisible evaporating alcohol at the top of a glass of “spirits”, and spirit substance is only as different from the physical world, as you mind is able to become differently enabled by drinking “spirits”.  The fact is, most of us believe in something or other different from only the physical reality world, but most of us are normally more sensible than to want to try to define what it is we believe in, because we are not exactly sure.  That is, within the brain’s cycling biochemical pathways of our awake consciousness, we have not yet been given any manner in which to base communication about the evidence of the totality of our witness, that is already compatible with the other evidence of science; but when we are given a real story for our awake consciousness to integrate with science, perhaps we might be able to remember a whole mass of information about para-normal type biological processes, and events in the world.

So, now I expect you will all be desirous of pointing out the obvious, about dreams and people, and time, and wondering how some gaseous parts of one person, can ever have been able to possess another person.  Those of you who have used drugs, or have always been more sensitive, might also need to question about how much of another person’s comprehension is being removed from their own mind, when we dream a dream from within their own life story and body.  Can more than one spirit body and/or astral body, inhabit another person’s physical body at the same time?  What are we receiving from other people’s comprehension, and why are dreams often incontrovertibly impossibilities in the real world?  Also, why is it that when we fall asleep and wake up, sometimes, we find ourselves waking up out of what seemed to have been weeks and weeks of dreams of some life or another, only to find that we just nodded off on the train?  These are difficult things to explain, but possible.  You will need to constantly enquire of your own mind, your own sensibilities, and your own certainty in what is real, as to whether what I am explaining here, is a compatible belief.

The example of drug use is the best one to come back to, because there is good social knowledge and understanding of that experience being distinct from natural perceptions in most people, yet also social knowledge about how some people have quite exceptional responses to drugs, and might become permanently caught up in the state of mind, and belief, which is the subject of a drug induced mind, or might become more fully fluid in all other social relations, as a consequence of drug use, and many other various possibilities of drug use type changes, becoming disconnected with the drug using experience.  Somebody once told me, about her study of esoteric religious material, (a somebody who did not believe in the reading, but who studied for the purpose of obtaining money), that it is possible, and a good aim to have, to be able to experience the world in the sort of time wise experiences of marijuana use, while not using the drug.  I liked the idea and set about trying to achieve it.  We had been talking about how marijuana use can cause that twenty minutes seems like a few hours at least, and I was saying that it was the only part of having smoked marijuana that I really enjoyed.  She asserted the possibility of engaging the body in developing that brain chemistry pattern without the drug.  She was correct, it is possible, and the result is a higher production of the neurotransmitter named “anadamide” which THC resembles.

Later I learned many other things about our neurotransmitters and how drugs interact with, but what is important here, is only that for people whose neurotransmitter output is low, in the necessary brain chemistry for having any conscious intellectual consideration of what dreams are, the patterns we know more about consciously, that are caused by drug using, are a neat way of relating to how our own body can change its brain chemistry.  Scientists have identified that brains produce five different, measurable, types of “brain waves”.  These are named according to the Greek alphabet, as Alpha waves, Beta waves, Gamma waves, Delta waves, and Theta waves.  Anadamide production causes more of one sort of these known and measured brain wave types, which are normally more active for most of us while sleeping.

However, I am not going to use the Greek letters of the alphabet to write about the different patterns in our brain chemistry.  Rather, I am going to use the understanding I have from in my own cultural tradition of Aboriginal Australia.  Each finger of our hand represents a different type of brain chemistry pattern.  The thumb type mind is airy, the index finger type mind is fiery, the middle finger type mind is earth oriented, the ring finger type mind is watery, and the little finger type mind is wooden.  Bear in mind, that if you ever look in any Feng Shui books, that the Chinese put metal, for money in the place where the watery element is, but that money has a relationship with most of the different brain chemistry patterns.  There is a very direct correspondence between the brain waves patterns which scientists have measured, and the five elements from older cultures.

What comprises our conscious mind, is the fact of any of the different sorts of brain chemistry, being enabled to happen in a cycle.  By a cycle, I mean quite directly, a cycle in time, such that the beginning follows on from the ending, and time feels non-linear, with repeating stories.  The cycle of birth marriage death, and birth, is a cycle in which, although death is an obvious ending, we cannot always, and need not always, detect why and where and in what facts, our mind is confusing a point in the past with a point in the future, such that time seems eternally cyclical.  Historians are always trying to either figure that out, to get society out of one pattern or another, or to stick it to the rest of us that some of their lies might have been real, and make us stuck in certain story cycles which repeat over and over again.  Capitalism is being perpetuated by such cycles, and in which study of the history of industrialisation and colonial Europe, and the middle of the 1800’s in Europe, is often able to expose the truth in a way such as that the downfall of capitalism seems more obviously inevitable.  A real song cycle, is caught in a pattern in which one moment in the story originally always had a confusion between the past and the future, that is how the story had always been enabled to play out, whereas, false cycles are made by lies being told about historic events.  The real cycles are honest mistakes, and the false cycles are lies established for the benefit of those who have the means to spread bad stories.

The critical fact, is that our mind CAN NOT SUSTAIN CONSCIOUSNESS  OF FACT, without a cycle occurring around those facts.  Now, in the various brain wave patterns which scientists have measured, and older cultures always described as the five elements, (or four elements among European occultists: but beware of four cycles since that can also lead into various other comprehensions which are liable to cause depression, or wanting to dress up like the “Goth” fashion, at the very least), it is in which ever of the elements that any of us sustain a cycle, that we tend to also sustain good memory and self observance.  The challenge for everybody is to sustain the brain chemistry in cyclical patterns in all five elements, which is truthfully quite difficult, and requires constant self observance.  This is the same understanding as how the Bible instructs to “Know Thyself”.  It is not without due cause in totality of the analysis from a scientific point of view.  The more we are remembering of our own experiences daily, then the less we are susceptible to parts of the gaseous presence of other persons, entering our own body, and having a look through our eyes.  I know that you, like I, may well already inhabit cycles of belief in your own mind, within certain biochemical processes, by which this whole analysis, might be well able to be considered as entirely insane.  But did you know that in Japanese culture, it is regarded as insane to avoid telling somebody what you intend to blame them with.  The height of bad manners not to give somebody forewarning of wanting to blame them for your own monetary wealth.  That does not stop the Japanese from actualising such blame, but it does afford anybody who knows about that cycle in the minds of the Japanese, the caution to take precautions as to what a Japanese person may be trying to tell you, within their own cultural outlook.  Of course, within that same cultural outlook, it is in the mental processes by which we inhabit the water element, with the biochemistry of delta waves, which are normally a part of everybody’s every day comprehension in Australian culture, it is quite abnormal to be discussing the fact of the brain biochemistry, since that might cause us to notice that money is less real than we expect it to be.  As though we have not already noticed the trading in the futures market is totally preposterous and insane.  The critical aspect of what I am telling here, is that in each of five distinct biochemical patterns, our mind can have been caught up in five distinct and potentially totally indifferent to one another, types of cycles.

Perhaps in one or two elements, the only cycles we have are drug using stories, because it has only been through use of drugs that we have been able to sustain consciousness in these elements.  What saves addicts is for a new cycle to be put in place in their subconscious, which is constantly entirely possible.  Normally those addicts who manage to get off drugs, are who find themselves, whilst using drugs, blaming somebody else for their drug use, when that somebody else is somebody who has a story cycle in their brain chemistry, of the story of “getting on the wagon”, “tee totalling”, “drying out” etc. Remember that when a person blames another person, as though an excuse for their own behaviour, it can happen that parts of the blamer, who is not wanting believing that there is a need to experience guilt, but who has some parts which will be wanting to feel guilt, those parts, which are normally the astral body, and which might actually feel a life sustaining need to have guilt about drug use, in that sort of instance, the drug user’s astral body collection of loosely associated gaseous molecules, will go off and inhabit another person, and make that person feel the guilt perhaps.  Often it is your mate who already used the drugs and is now already going through a detoxification, and who will be obliging and blame you when next he gets drunk, or he might blame somebody else, etc, and perhaps it is even that there are folk who are blaming you for one kind of drug use, while they are using another drug, or exhibiting another addictive behaviour, for example, internet use.  Even those who have had their biochemistry corrupted by acts of forced sodomy, for example, can have regenerative type cycles put in place of what was already established in the biochemistry, often through a therapy called colon-hydro-therapy.  These are critical facts for the way in which the whole society needs to transform.

Normal daily awake consciousness, requires us to sustain three types of biochemical processes in our neurones, and which ones of the different brain waves types, those three are, and what stories those brain wave types are caught in the cycles of, is what ultimately defines our whole belief system and culture.  Part of what caused capitalist accumulation to begin, was that the joining of the culture of western Europe, and the culture of Native Americans, has an incompatibility factor, which is more enabling of denial of guilt than is normal or healthy for the whole society. It was nobody’s fault that such a thing happened, but particularly not the fault of the native Americans.  We often witness the difference from here in Australia, because the western European traditions were originally always more compatible with Aboriginal Australian belief systems, in respect of which elements what sort of stories were cycling through our brains with.  But in asserting this, I have to establish that I am referring to European culture pre-Christopher Columbus, and so how we relate to Europe best, is through the older fairy stories.  That the cultural engagement was present early on, is obvious with stories like Blinky Bill,  Snugglepot and Cuddlepie,  and The Magic Pudding. 

That the original, and ongoing, cultural engagement was and is, physically extraordinarily demanding and expensive for indigenous Australians, is a fact that nobody can escape within the totality of the subconscious processes which were established by Aboriginal Australians right at the point of the invasion commencing.  Where we run into difficulty, is through the Native American fire and sun worshiping type cultures, requiring that a certain sort of comprehension of fear, is manifested within the domain of science.

That is why, for example, the CIA are reputed to have studied para-psychology to what seems like a weird extreme for us Australians, and American television has shows about people who are taken seriously in asserting that they have supernatural type powers.  In our Australian culture, it is not that such things are not ever believed in, but that it is regarded as ill minded to speak of, without having been established by other people, in a social status which is inescapable, of being made demands upon to speak of such things.  Perhaps it is fortuitous that police here in Australia, who are educated in the same perceptions as American undercover police agents, lend themselves to being used as vehicles for imposing the social conditions, in which those able to speak up about such matters, are forced into having to.  However, I am making some very broad sweeping generalisations here, in the way I am defining a critical difference between Australians and Americans.  We ought to remember that the world is full of many cultures, with many cultural differences, and simply that the variance in how we are born, almost pre-programmed, and then raised, actually pre-programmed, into believing in any one thing or another as being part of the boarders of what defines reality, is far larger than we might be able to suppose.

Many of the sorts of notions which have social currency in the USA, are just not culturally acceptable to even speak about here in Australia; yet that has been socially enabling for mainstream Americans, to find themselves being advantaged over Australians, while within our own Australian comprehension, it is the Americans which seem really very ignorant.  In the same way, parts of Australian culture, which have more wholly swallowed an American style way of making money, for example here in Brisbane, tend to be regarded as somewhat ignorant by other Australians.  That ignorance is no more than the fact of what story cycles are existing in what substances flowing through our brain bio-chemistry.  When I say “story cycles” in this context, it is more obvious, that our mental patterns of association of cause with effect, are formed, in the series of neurones which an “action potential” (electrical signal travelling through each brain cell), travels along, in a loop, around the body and brain, of any number of neurones before the loop is circular.  The solutions to understanding the human mind, are as simple as knowing what neurotransmitters enable what sort of emissions of what sorts of magnetism, or electro-magnetic field, around the body, caused by particles in the cerebro-spinal fluid, lymph, and blood.  So it is possible to conceive of modern science figuring it all out, although the tests might be so nasty that nobody ought to be subject to such being done by modern scientific methods, and then, it just happens to be also, that older cultural beliefs, in five elements and the worth of storytelling and combining visual art and songs, for example, are still outstripping the modern scientific world, in respect of the speed of processing the data, within which we comprehend all cause and effect, and how to influence one another’s mental processes.  After all, if each of us individually, are not already a more finely attuned piece of machinery, than any brain wave reading scientist’s lumps of plastics and metal ever could be, for reading the internal workings of our own mind, then we could have no real claim on being any more alive than a piece of plastic and metal.  Thus it is that the capitalists spend their money on acquiring religious based comprehension before acquiring scientific measurements, but then fail to recognise that an imperative exists within many domains of religious comprehension, for the brain to be enabled to believe in scientific method as the basis of faith.

Perhaps all that is missing from our own comprehension, is the attitude that we can apply the understanding of how to make scientific experiments, to our own comprehension of how to find out what is what in respect of cause and effect.  Did the shop supply red scarves because people wanted to buy red scarves, or did people buy red scarves because the shop wanted to supply red scarves?  How is it that it happens to some people that they believe the opposite from everybody else in respect of their own money spending?  Why are you how you are? Is it that your experiences enable a specific comprehension, or that you are just less of a sucker?  The whole story of how cycles form in our brain chemistry, has to be drawn back into analysis of how experiences define belief.  When we fail to find ourselves sustained by capitalism, of course we are more likely to want to begin to question its means and method.  Of course it is our experiences which underlie every possible pattern in our own brain chemistry.

However, there are methods by which certain persons, in specific functional roles in any culture, can become enabled to “implant”, “download”, “prescribe”, or simply just ‘give’, to another person, a new dream sequence, which is not originally caused by their own experiences, but rather is caused by the experiences of somebody else, whom had no immediate need of dreaming about what had happened to them, and was not enabled to put their experience to such good immediate purpose, as another person might become able to.  The basic rules about this phenomenon, of “trading in dreams”, are that who is on the brink of being able to work into best parts of any story, and cause good results from that work, which will be beneficial for the whole society as well as for themselves, are who need to be “given” and dream that is not being remembered by another person.  Perhaps one experience for one person, has no pre-existing cycle within which it is possible for them to believe in the truth through their experience; and therefore, they are unlikely, or unable, to remember dreams associated with that experience.  Perhaps they can remember the experience only within certain biochemical brain processing patterns, but not within the cycles of the flow of other, differently enabling, neurotransmitters.  There is another basic premise here, that is the idea, or ideal, (depending on how you are capable of believing in this), of every part of every human behaviour, and every human reaction and response, being needful of being observed, measured, and accounted for by somebody somewhere in time.  (Belief in Angels and Devils tends to help sustain that belief.) If your own body, is not able to, by taking full responsibility for your own recall memories, accept the totality of responsibility of everything within your experience; then it is actively beneficial for you, to be able to let another person have the dreams of certain parts of your life story; but obviously, you do not want somebody who only wants to dream of yourself so as to rip you off and reap profits by your memory loss, being who dreams parts of your life story.  The solution, is for those who have worked enough at certain tasks, and in certain aims, to be awarded with receiving the dreams that nobody else is taking any responsibility for. 

Consider this, it is entirely possible, for somebody who knows what they are doing, and can sustain their mind on all the rungs of that ladder, or on every step of the stair way to heaven, without drugs, to ensure that drug users who manage to rip off other people by first getting into their dreams, can only access the dreams of other drug users.  However, that is no way to work towards relieving society of a drug problem.  How alcoholics anonymous type groups work, is by constantly reinstating the dreams in which any person ever first managed to fully detoxify their body from alcohol, and then enabling persons newly attempting exactly that, to borrow, and lean on, those dreams, until they are also fully sober.  Alcoholics anonymous is obviously a good model of how the exchanging of the substances that dreams are made of, can find its solution to be enabling the accumulation of social worth, rather than monetary capital.  The reason most alcoholics in recovery are religious people, is because religions have many set formulas for enabling very precise exchanges of dreaming matter to take place, without everybody needing to know all the details of why and how and what the actual science is.

Do you know the story of the hundredth monkey, which is popular in the peace movement?  It is the story of some scientists studying Japanese snow monkeys, who observed that after teaching one monkey to use a tool, and observing that monkey teaching her offspring, and then another, and then all those monkeys teaching more monkeys, eventually, when a certain number of individual monkeys could use the tool, suddenly, all the monkeys, even in other monkey colonies far away, all began to spontaneously use the tool which none of them ever had before.  The explanation for that, is something like there being a force field of very subtle electro-magnetic radiance, which collects around each incidence of a monkey learning to use the new tool, and gradually, the whole quantity of substance which the monkeys are effectively “dreaming” through, increases until there is enough for every of that species of monkey to share in the dream.  Obviously the same science applies to humanity, which is why we all keep up our socialist principals and organisations when there seems no chance of convincing new people to become socialists.  When the conditions are conductive to converting people into any new belief, perhaps because of a catalysing experience, all the efforts we are always making, converge into what we were always aiming for.  That is, so long as our aims have truly always been for a real socialist outcome, (either utopian or socialist, your choice, because even the statements against religion, by the earliest socialists and communists, adhered to a religious process of teaching the theories of critical thinking, in which the authority that believed in that process, had to be questioned, yet within the belief in religious method, so long as we are aiming for the same goal, our immediate disagreements about method, always recombine in the outcome of achieving that goal), when the totality of conditions are enabling of effecting a socialist revolution, it will happen almost by nature alone, if only there are enough of us who are making the extra effort for that to be achieved. 

Mass spontaneous conversions into any specific belief system, are real, and have been studied, and the fact of how we want a revolution to transpire, really does need to be constantly and consistently debated for long enough prior to that event, so that the mass spontaneous conversions are truly beneficial.  The science is all about the nature of the gaseous substances which human biochemistry can produce, and what is happening to those substances in general.  There are oral history records in some parts of the world, including Aboriginal Australia, which relate to the period recorded in the Bible in Exodus, and in which it is known that in the long past (Moses life time predates the pyramids), only as many as two hundred men, learned something specific, each passed that information onto another hundred, who each passed the same information onto another hundred, and that was enough people for everybody to suddenly wake up to the same knowledge.

What any of us ever might be able to believe in as real, is defined by a pattern caused in our brain biochemistry, and all the variables which effect those patterns, are hugely complex and difficult to comprehend.  Almost impossible in fact, to entirely comprehend what defines why we believe what we believe, from within the cycle of its own belief.  Religion is a set of very old formulations for learning how to engage in the processes of renewing and regenerating the patterns of belief.  One part of the teaching of religion, which exists in every culture, is told as the story of the seven sisters here in Australia.  It is also taught as Jacob’s ladder in Judaism.  The first five rungs of the ladder, are the processing of the five patterns in the brain biochemisty which can be defined also as five elements.  One simple definition of the sixth rung, is the fact of each of those five working together in perfect unison.  It is like saying that we might all have an accurate “sixth sense” only in the fact of when every of the five senses are fully functioning and fully fluid to here and now in every moment.  It is possible to regulate our understanding of these things by relating each of the five senses to a distinct one among the five biochemical patterns in the brain, named also after Greek letters, yet, it is also possible, to relate each of the five sense, to each of the five types of brain biochemistry, and then beyond that, understand that the sixth rung up Jacob’s ladder, is a fully functioning conscious mind in every of the elements/ brainwave types.  The seventh rung, when defined in this same simplified method, is to comprehend all this within a total and consistent constant observance of the entirety of our own bodily responses and mental processes of the understanding.  At six we understand thoroughly, and at seven we know what we are understanding.  But we need to be cautious about ourselves and never imagine that we are fully aware of all the five lower parts of the ladder of our consciousness, we need to be aware of, to be conscious of the sixth.

Most cultures have a way of labelling all seven rungs of Jacob’s ladder, in which each rung is defined precisely from within only one of the total group of rungs of the ladder.  The most common element for the definition to be remembered with, is air.  Some people consider themselves fully capable of climbing up the ladder all by themselves, and sustaining its full consciousness, only because they remember the mental visual imagery, by which another person lead their mind into the comprehension available at the top.  They are the many various sorts of faith healers who get about these days, and can, because of their belief in having repeatedly witnessed faith healings, sustain belief that it might happen again in their presence.  They might have in mind an image of, for example, a stone stair well, and simply imagine climbing up to the seventh step, where in they receive visions of a possibility, but which is no more than a possibility, until enough people believe in it and work for it to become real.

The images of stone stair wells are used by Masons, and it is called an “Allelnon stair”.  Obviously it is that an actual stair well exists somewhere that looks like that, and has been observed by somebody able to promote the imagery of it, as a method for perceiving what possible futures exist.  Do not fail to remember that these are the methods by which capitalism has been forced upon the majority of the population, and do remember that there was always a socialist alternative up top there also, in the vista of what is visible within your own mind, or accessible to your emotions, to your sense of smell, taste, inner ear, or all five combined.  Mediating in a way that seeks out images of such stairways, are no more than how many religious folk pray often, and are no more than concentrating your mental energy upon wondering how to find out what you need to know to attain your own goals; but when within set structured patterns, which are known to contain cycles which enable some of the brain biochemistry which normally is only engaged whilst asleep, enable certain patterns usually inaccessible to the conscious mind, to manifest in our waking consciousness.  Every actual stair well named an Allelnon stair, has a real location, and has a story about how it came into existence in the first place, and every example of anybody perceiving images of such a stairwell, only happens through somebody who knows somebody who knows the full story.

In other cultures, it might be a tree, or a hill top to climb, which we receive dreams of, and dreams might embody a set of rules about having been then become able to go to those places, which may or may not be sacred.  In this example here, in this booklet, I am leaning on the traditions which were brought to Australia from Europe, which include the socialist tradition.  In the Chinese tradition, the whole I Ching, is accompanied by mental imagery of actual places at which the Earth embodies each specific I Ching reading.  These are all manifesting in our internal mental imagery, if so, within the element of air, which is that element within which we perceive reality as three dimensional, and perceive matter as having colours.  Open your eyes and notice how thick the air is with images arriving at your retina, and then try closing your eyes.  The air still exists of course, but your perceptions of what solid objects are, has had to shift gears into a different brain chemistry pattern.  There are five brain chemistry patterns, and at any given moment, we are normally conscious within at least three, if not four, but it is more rare to sustain consciousness in all five simultaneously.  People who only engage in believing the same as everybody else within two brain chemistry patterns, are normally deluding themselves in to belief that they will be able to get away with being socially devious, and that includes many of the manifestations within which monetary profits are made.  It is a very weak position within which such persons are basing their belief.  Quite literally, it is weak, not only because a few clever socialists know how to argue against what they want everybody else to be imagining, but it is weak because their own brain chemistry is extremely susceptible to being deluded.  What would you like the rich to believe in, in exchange for receiving of their knowledge about the workings of this society?  Perhaps just try to suppose that the very wealthy capitalists around in Brisbane, might not realise yet how unstoppable Green Left weekly can be, while you might not yet have realised. . .

When the brain chemistry is stimulated into new patterns, there is always a process of experientially integrating what we might experience as only a strange feeling, and a new way of dreaming.  It is normal for it to take a few weeks to figure out what the difference is, and that will manifest only after the new dreams have already influenced behaviour and social regard.  We all observe these sort of processes happening in the television programmes like Big Brother, when everybody, within a whole set of new experiences, gradually begins to settle into the situation to such a degree that they experience very deeply felt emotions towards one another, even when perhaps their social regard for one another is of an enemy.  The Big Brother television show seems quite cruel, and in many ways it is, however, it is also a phenomenon in which a group of people are put into a structurally similar situation as it would be if on a spiritual retreat together, and they experience the same degree of re-patterning of their mental functions; of course, within a typically Australian sense of humour, which everybody watching, and the show’s producers, must be hoping will not be too detrimental in re-patterning a person’s subconscious experiences of what defines the world.  Australian culture is unusually adept, by contrast to most others, in engaging in use of presenting meanings as opposites, which makes it possible for Big Brother to have a dimension for its audience and participants alike, which is not present in the British equivalent, that tends to rely upon celebrity visits to a far larger extent.

Even Big Brother had a professional “psychic” in reading everybody’s auras and checking out if there were ghosts about, and all that sort of frame of reference of analysis of who people are.   If anybody needs to know about what those sort of capacities are, the simple truth is that some people, almost by accident, happen to acquire a totally different frame of reference within which to believe in reality, while still very young, and so develop their senses differently, as though they belong in a totally different culture.  What comprises the difference between different cultures, really is that strong.

Meanwhile, it really is the case, that Americans with enough money, can go to their psychic doctors, (they even have such professionals as who are called “psychic surgeons”, who operate without discretion, and some of whom exist in this country also), and to prevent overeating, can be patterned into the experiences of an African living through a famine.  Never mind that the African might have needed that resilience themself, or that the psychic surgeons could have been causal to the famine, even within their own self knowledge of what their business is based on.  We might not, ourselves, already have any experiential understanding of why it is possible for anybody to believe in such things, but we need to be just as revolted and disgusted by the what capitalism is effecting within religious comprehension, as well as in the physical world.

At the bottom line, it is of course always the case, that you ought not believe in anything which I have written here, without yourself actually having enough experiential evidence, such as that these words are at least a viable mode of belief in the world.  But I am asserting that we, as socialists, ought not fear how it is that we might acquire the evidence, because it is the same evidence within which capitalism can be defeated.  It is culturally and socially appropriate for socialists to make all the same sorts of enquires into what the basis for belief is in religion, as any other people are making.  It is also, more normal than we often let ourselves believe, to discuss with our friends, what we have been dreaming about, and whether we experience “premonitions” which might or might not come real, etc.  Basically, when we ignore fear, we never get to the bottom of it, and then it becomes a larger factor in our decision making, whereas, when we can use acknowledgment of fear, through analysis of emotional experience, and analysis of connected spiritual experience if appropriate, as a mode of self acceptance of weakness, then we have more opportunities to open up biochemical pathways in which weaknesses are turned into strengths.

Underneath all this, in my own comprehension, is the totality of the understanding I have of the Aboriginal Dreamtime story of the seven sisters.  What is very distinctive about my own belief in the Aboriginal tradition, is the association between the number seven, and seven different methods by which the human intelligence is capable of accounting for ourselves.  That specific set of seven, aligns well within the understanding also of an allelnon stair, although the truth is, that phenomenon such as an allelnon stair, enables persons whom normally cannot sustain the full degree of individual accountability for themself, which is necessary, to ascend up “Jacob’s ladder”, or comprehend the full depth of meaning of any Dreamtime story.  The allelnon stair phenomenon, even within the Dreamtime, as there exists in as many individual aspects of the modern city scapes, as there were always bora rings on Earth before the city existed, is a phenomenon which is caused specifically to enable those who are unable to sustain the full comprehension, to get a bit of a comprehension of what sort of mental patterns are possible to sustain all the time by other people, who are able to sustain constant memory of everything in their mind at any one time. 

Prior to 1788, the balance of the population here in Australia, might have been about half and half between those who constantly sustained perfect self knowledge, and those less able in memory, who would be supported by everybody else; whereas today, perhaps one third of the 3% of the population who are identified as Aboriginal, are living in social conditions which are conducive to the enabling of good self knowledge, and also sustain the genealogical propensity to remember more readily.  There is potentially no more than half as many again of the totality of non-Aboriginal Australians, who have any real comprehension of the science, but many many non-Aboriginal Australians who have received religious, (and occultist), instruction in the manipulation of dreams, but whom have little or no idea as to what they have been instructed in, and whom tend to imagine that the techniques are just about how to get rich quick.  Therefore, it is important to recognise that the reality for Aboriginal Australians, of the past 230 years, is of the invasion and rape of the most intimate concerns of the innermost mind and mental capability, as well as the invasion and domination of land and life; and that money is a symbol of the occurrence, despite money having been used by occultists, against many Aboriginal Australians, in Aborigines having been set up to seem to be equitably as culpable as the invaders in respect of using specific techniques for the manipulation of human dreams.  The game, in the psychological domain, of accusations and counter accusations about the methodology which any specific culture might use to manipulate another, is already running into the extreme of the invader determining itself legitimate in reinvading the more remote Aboriginal communities, only because in other parts of Australia, there is evidence of Aboriginal persons using similar psychological weapons as are used normally by those who only want to acquire money, and do not care who they oppress to achieve that goal.  The extent to which it becomes necessary for a few more ordinary socialists and trade unionists, to accept these facts, is only the extent to which the police are concerning themselves with the methods of religion and have been abusing the psychology of religious belief.  That happens in most Aboriginal communities, where it is reputed that police are often behind sales of drugs, or at least are providing protection for those who are selling drugs.  It also happens in the building industry, and in other significant trade union operating environments.

It is normally difficult to ascertain evidence of what we suspect in respect of how social institutions which support the mainstream of society, into sustaining belief in the capitalist mode of production, have been harming everybody and anybody’s capacity to truly question what the real sequences in cause and effect are in respect of trade, the economy, and how that impacts general human experience.  However, when we are trained in the patterns of comprehending religious methodology for interpreting the world, the truth is then, more quickly able to be ascertained in the evidence of the physical real world also.  But to enable that we receive the appropriate training, which could be possible for anyone who is willing to submit themselves to a person who can be trusted to teach, such as many older Aboriginal persons are, (though there are also Aboriginal persons equally able to teach the same corruptions as capitalism depends on, and in which we need to be careful not to equate black skin, and modern Aboriginal cultural obligations, in a direct way with a socialist based belief structure, although indirectly all of Aboriginal Australia is still more attuned with what patterns of mind sustain a non-capitalist economy), and a rare few among other religions also.  There are also a quite a number of indigenous Australians with mixed racial background, who have been acquiring the relevant information through many various different religious structures, and whom continue to work towards reintegrating that knowledge, from within the white mainstream, with the traditionally oriented cultural basis still alive and well.  There are often enough some very strongly socialist ideas and ideals present among Australian hippy culture, and far more strongly socialist than the equivalents in the USA, Canada, and Europe, etc, and in that context there is already a series of very strong interfaces with various religious concepts.  However, that also need be the whole of any reason why any of us might distrust that type of hippy subculture, and yet also be willing to engage with its ideas fluidly.  In a way, the believe underlying the production of this book, is that the intercultural interfaces between the hippy subculture, the trade unions, and Aborigines, need some stringent setting of boundaries, because of the extent to which previously those interfaces have been wrongfully allowed to be dominated by drug dealers and users.  Again however, it is important to reassert, that the experiences a person may have acquired while using drugs, can equitably inform the religious understanding of how the economy is being manipulated.

Within religious teaching, there are basic rules about what basic reasons and understandings must define how and why any person might ever attempt to manipulate another person’s psychological processes.  Some of these are: Money exists for the protection of childhood, by supplying what children will need so as to enable their belief in happy endings, and belief in religious self-discipline as the means to find happy endings; using more money than is necessary to achieve that, is causal to the opposite effect, therefore defines why the protection of childhood is not possible without money; war is only legitimised when money is being abused, and has become ineffective at stabilising society to safeguard children’s experiences, and therefore, there is no legitimacy in any war which can manifest an increase in monetary profits, so if any country or army uses religious reasoning to defend warfare, they prove that they have no legitimate reason to be accessing the knowledge of religious methodology; that comprehension of the army need also be applied to policing; when a debt is owed, within the dream world of gaseous substances, it can only be paid out of the exact same quality and quantity and density of substance in which it became originally owed, and therefore, anybody who attempts to extract a debt from another person’s dreaming, by blaming that person, cannot effect the repayment, but rather only can thieve, until and unless, the person who owes the debt, is fully comprehensive of the nature of the debt; it is always necessary to determine an individual’s willingness for their dreams to be manipulated in any way, and determining willing consent, needs to occur within the same biochemical pathways as there is an intention to manipulate, so just as we manipulate the conscious mind by consenting conversation, when we manipulate the subconscious mind, there must be willing consent within the subconscious.

Those basic facts of religious laws about matter and cause and effect, are often being prevented from being realised by most persons whose witness might be able to prove the invalidity of the capitalist mode of production, and of the social structures sustaining it, and prevented by the exact methods of blaming a person (of a past social misdemeanour) so as to remove a portion of their neurological biochemical products, and then accusing the same person (of a future potential social misdemeanour) with belief in something other than the truth.  When blaming another person, what usually happens is that their brain begins to overproduce neurotransmitters sustaining the earth element type thinking, and the production of neurotransmitters sustaining the air element type thinking, begins to sort of “leak” out to the person whom enacts blaming another person.  The Earth element type though structures are the ones in which we perceive that any object is solid.  The air element type thought structures are the ones in which we perceive that solid objects have colour and shape.  Most cultures are asserted, inserted, retained, and remade constantly, in the elements of air, Earth, and one among the other three elements, so it is usually only in the air and Earth elements that we share mutual comprehension between different cultures.  Remember that culture is sustained by cycles in the brain chemistry, which we can recognise by cyclical story patterns.  In general, those taking a wrongful advantage of others, sustain very strong “clairvoyant” type brain chemistry, (despite the fact that clairvoyance can be caused by legitimate method also), which explains why so many of the extremely wealthy people pay specialists who read palms and find miracle cures etc.  Those who are being ripped off, are simple more likely to develop poor eyesight, or lose their sensitivity to the full range of colours.

However, within that knowledge, we also know that there is always at least one other cycle occurring in the conscious mind, though we cannot always be certain what acculturation process a person has been through, and so will not always be aware of whether a person has another conscious cycle in any of the elements of water, fire, or wood.  Obviously the most significant advantage can be held by who is able to retain a good story, with a happy ending cycle, in all five elements.  Cycles which recognise a capacity to manipulate the cycles in other person’s brain chemistry, are also obviously quite advantageous.  Access to cycles of brain chemistry activity, through however it is that you can conceive of being able to “borrow”, or “receive a gift of” the brain chemistry patterns originally caused in another person, is enabled more by the religion of Islam than other religions, which is how the Masonic temples are based, through Europeans learning Muslim methodology during the crusades.  However, even among Muslims, there are strict rules within which access to such phenomenon, (like having the same experience as a drug users “trip” without the drug: such as it is recorded in history that Mohammed experienced when receiving Qur’an, and learning to recite it), is permissible.  Many Christians and non-religious believers, are enjoying that permissiveness of Islam, after first coming in contact with Islam, but the rulings that are in place to restrict persons from abusing one another’s psychology, are really much more strict than we could truly comprehend without many years of study.  Ensuring the there is no inflation in the economy is one of those rules.  There are other rules effecting who might be able to receive what sorts of benefit from learning the religious methodology.  It is also true, that we have to have been born with certain specific genetically determined propensities, in order to sustain specific states of mind readily enough for any new dream to become integrated into our own daily lives.

The aim of this book is to implant such new dream cycles as can be enabling for socialists, but because that process is not really as straight forward as the miracle faith healing type folk like to imagine it can be, it is very worth your while, when reading this booklet, to make an effort to exist for a weekend in real discomfort by one way or another.  I like to suggest being in a group of friends who will all be reading the same information, and going camping, or if that is not within your budget, just finding anywhere relatively safe for sleeping rough outside.  What you eat is important also, and it is best if you are able to keep up a supply of potassium salt and zinc, and go easy on caffeine and other psycho-active substances.  It is also a worthy exercise to try to detoxify your digestive system from the effects of eating meat, dairy products, and also too much sugar, at the same time.  Though eggs and goats milk, or A2 milk ought to be fine.

I am suggesting here, in this section about defining reality, existence, the universe, and life, that you undertake such an exercise, simply because if you never do, you might never realise how confoundedly our lifestyles are effecting our capability to achieve the goal of socialism, (and how much worse our fear of that is than our behaviour can be applied to, but also how we can relieve that fear simply enough by challenging and changing our habits), or how our lifestyles are effecting our capability to believe in various different cultural paradigms, and subconsciously implicating our own behaviour as complicit with the capitalist mode of production, in which subconscious patterns, everything that supports and sustains capitalism, is being enabled to succeed in blaming the victims.  Clearly it might seem almost insane, to go without, only so as to learn why we are being ripped off already; but when ‘the powers that be’ are using a specific set of religious laws as their weapon, and within those same religious laws, there is an exacting way of having an advantage over capitalists, it is more crazy not to take up that position, so long as we can find ourselves in agreement with it.  At the bottom line of all the laws of religious methods, we are all in the wrong in any of our engagement with the capitalist mode of production; but, we are able to attain a religious legitimacy nevertheless, within using that wrong mode of social organisation as our cover story, (for example, whenever we buy new clothes for a job interview), when we are faced with irrefutable evidence that corrupt persons, who are corrupting the knowledge of religion, have been having any success in attempting to prevent our lifestyle adhering fully to religious law.  The bottom line difference between us, (who are we? The socialists, the Aborigines, the counter culture alternative weirdos, or just anybody who cares enough?), and them (they, are more obviously, the owners of the media, the merchant bankers, the corporate commercial successes: yet whom are also always trying to redefine us as that; but they have more money than is necessary, while we do not), is that when we use any methodology for manipulating the society we live in, we use it to defend society by defending the least important, and most oppressed, of its members, and we believe in the real possibility of the outcome of humanity causing society to work in a way beneficial for all of its members; whereas they, tend to define what is possible, by defining that there must always be somebody to oppress, so as to be able to grant anybody else with any benefit.  Nazi Germany proved them wrong, as did the cultural revolution in China, and many other social upheavals of the modern world, the evidence that the capitalists have already proven that capitalism is ending, exists all around us right now.  Our challenge, is to begin to be able to amass enough evidence of that, so that when the time comes, we will be able to convince many people to wake up to that evidence all around them, and already within their own experiences.  In the most simplistic analysis, being one of us (the socialists/the trade unionists/those who work to defeat racism and sexism etc/and also many very genuine religious believers who are oppressed within the religious institutions because of really believing in the lessons), is defined by being able accept ourselves as we are, as worthy of receiving the real worth of our own labour; whereas being one of them, is defined by miscomprehending receiving forgiveness, as though being forgiven is the same as being allowed to get away with what you need be forgiven of.  In real religious comprehension, forgiving a person is the same as preventing them, but preventing through love, in which lessons are learned the hard way.  Any other information about why religious forgiveness exists, is a misleading notion often enabled so as to prevent religious fear from escalating too far.  Learning to reframe our definitions of reality, so as that real economic social equality is possible, has always been one aspect of the means and methodology of socialism.  Whatever you do, do not forget to research your evidence in the real world, BEFORE you place faith in it.

 

 

 

 

Religious Concept 4: Archetypes

Have you ever met somebody and instantly recognised them to be very like a person you already know?  That happens for many varied reasons.  Perhaps it is only that your own mind, was overly identifying with the person you already knew, and was maybe even missing their company, and perhaps only disliking that person because of missing their company, and so we seek for a way to compensate an experience of feeling guilty about having had negative feelings towards somebody, without any other reason than having a friendship that is not resolving because of not being in one another’s company, or not having appropriate contexts to find resolution in.  But there are other reasons why people often are very much alike to one another.

What is it that is the same about everybody with a hooked nose, for example?  Their archetype is one of the easiest to pick up on quickly, because that feature in the body’s cartilage, is one of the easier to discern rapidly.  They might all remind you of the older of the fellows in the book “The Magic Pudding”, and you might associated them all in your mind within the category of people who tell “Furphies”.  That feature, of being able to get away with telling outrageous stories, is the clear stark fact of what defines the archetype of everybody on only two of the whole of the Earth’s Songlines. 

Having it in common that you were born on either one or another of all of the existing Songlines, does not seem too significant to most average Aussies these days, but consider this: the Songlines, also called Dreamways, in some cultures, or Dream-tracts, or Dreaming stories, or just simply Ley lines, which is the most common English language words for the phenomenon, are such strong features of the whole planet’s inner magnetism, as to have manifested the shape of the crust of the Earth along specific lines, defines the same story for all those persons, whose bones produce red blood cells which are in turn, magnetised to the Earth’s crust at their conception and birth places.  The red colour in each red blood cell is caused by a iron oxide, which is the same exact oxide as rust, and is held in place by a very clever protein molecule, such that those tiniest size possible specs of rust inside of us, are doing no damage, but only providing us each with some level of natural magnetism to all the iron ore in the Earth.  It just so happens that, along each Ley-line, not only are the land forms somewhat similar, such that linear movement along each precise line, changes altitude within a structured repeating sequence, by which the “song” is determined; but also, the specific composition of minerals in the Earth’s crust is more likely to contain specific elements and compounds.  It is easiest for us to contemplate that magnetism is applicable to iron oxide, because we have all played with iron filings during high school science lessons, but what about the calcium in our bones, and all the other minerals, like zinc, and magnesium, that our bodies are known to need from time to time. 

Of course the magnetism depends upon the shape and conformation of molecules, and there is constant movement in these things, within our body, yet we continually manifest specific likes and dislikes.  Each of us tend to be magnetic in one way or another, to anything that reminds us of the story and song, which our body is most attuned to, through the magnetism of the iron in our blood, to the iron ore in the Earth’s crust.  Have you a favourite song, for example, about which you notice that there are many groups of musicians who seem to be singing one or another variation of the tune of.  The chances are that you like it most because it is the tune which sings the shape of the land forms along the leyline that travels through your birth place.  A favourite colour could be the same.  Favourite stories are always examples of exactly the fact that we are all biologically defined by existing in one or another archetypal caricature of who is possible.

There are anthropologists, notably the French editor of the Encyclopaedia of World’s Religions, Mircea Eliade, who teach that all stories, from all cultures, and in every part of the world, can be condensed into twenty six basic story lines.  Meanwhile, there are those many long lived indigenous cultures, who teach that there are a set of stories which we all manifest as one among, and that each story has a set of known possible interactions with each other one.  We can, of course, if we really want to, break the cultural taboos set down over time, and co-habit within, for example, in the pattern of a mother-in-law and son-in-law, which is forbidden in many regions.  Yet we may well find that such co-habitation, is liable to lead us into a bit of a death trap, which was always the end of that story, in those regions, where such stories, happen to have been retained.  The stories have many possibilities of hybrids.  And in all indigenous cultures, most of those hybrids are known, but only a specific set, at any one time, are allowed to be told.

This is the difference between an inside story and an outside story.  The Archetypes cross over each other in a variety of patterns, and it might be at any one time, that nobody is living at certain sites where certain lines cross over, or that suddenly too many people are living at a place where there is a very tightly bonded crossing over of a mother-in-law and son-in-law set of stories.  In that case, even though indigenous cultures might always want to prevent marriages happening in that social alliance, it might not always be possible to, and so everybody will begin to start dreaming of what the negative consequences might be if we let the marriage taboo between mother-in-law, and son-in-law, be broken.  When a whole population begins to dream something that nobody was dreaming for the past fifty odd years, it is a sign that the story in those dreams, is possibly going to be enacted soon, if not already.  The dreams were always inside us, but now they begin to be remembered by our active mind.

Most cultures sustain a set of rules about marriages, which are specifically in place so as to enable that how we dream, is in a way in which our active mind can engage in making a causal contribution to how the dreams we live through unfold.  You might like to start asking all your close friends about what they notice about their dreams.  Are you and your mates all active participants in your dreams, or are some of you only ever receptive?  What parts of what dreams are you able to remember?  When you figure out what your own archetype story is, which you ought to try the children’s section of public libraries for, then you might also notice, that any of us are only ever active in our dreams, within the set structure of that specific story which we are born on the ley line of.  When you try to find that story, don’t think, just feel you way into learning it.  Of all the children’s literature in front of you in a public library, which books look nice, and which ones are you afraid of, but know you want anyway?  There is a bit of a dastardly difficultly here though, because depending upon the genetics in our family, and how our ancestors have intermarried across cultures and races, and in what patterns of connecting archetypes, we might find that the story we most fear is that we most need, or, we might find that the story we most love and feel safe around, is the one we most need.  Whatever it is, that your own archetype is, you will always find that you attract to yourself knowledge of its story.  Perhaps you even imagine that everybody else is just like that also, and gradually have been awakening to realise that other people think in quite distinctly different patterns to those you are able to.

The hooked nose archetype, are a type of person who are active in their dreams by manipulation of language.  Other sorts of persons are active by manipulation of pictures, or simply the shape of what is visible, or perhaps what parts become repeated and what parts are just sidelines, or, by body posture and positions, or the movements we all make from one instant to another, between one position, and the next.  Which way will you move next in a dream?  Can you control that?  Whether you might look next towards the top left hand corner of your field of vision, or the bottom? Are you moving in one direction to hide what exists in another direction, or to expose and reveal it?  Take care not to confuse the hooked nose type of folk who are good with words, with the slightly less hooked, also hooked nose types, who are more likely to be active with manipulating texts, because their strength is with the shape of what is defining belief in reality.

Why worry about how any of us are, or are not, able to dream but?  Well, perhaps, if you were to wake up one morning, and spend all day trying to avoid the dream you were having when you woke up, and trying to prevent it from coming real, then you will know why it is important to have some knowledge of the relevance of dreams.  Even if you cannot remember any of your dreams at all, take notice of the first thing which you remember having come into your mind upon waking.  If that one single thought is not dominating your whole day, why then, I might as well never have started writing this, because you may well be able to prove any and all of it to be the same lies.  Because if the dreams which wake us up are not dominating our day by being realised, then they are certainly dominating our day by our efforts to avoid that realisation.  Test yourself, repeatedly, and often, until it is your daily habit to make some sort of measure of how your dreams are corresponding to the real world.  Do not try to cause any dreams, just let the dreams be as they are in a pattern which is normally totally predetermined by the combination of our ancestry and birth place.  But  realise also, that your behaviour every day, is the only other major influence in your own capacity to dream.  If you want to cause yourself to have any dreams, your labour and work efforts towards causing that same event in the real world, are the most effective method that anybody could ever have. Learn to know yourself, by realising whether you are an avoider of your own mind, or a compliant contemplator of what exists in your dreaming.  When you figure out what archetypal story your mind is always inevitably attracted to, realise that you are caught in a bind of never fully being certain as to whether the chicken (or any other sort of bird) you are, or the egg of your archetypal story, is what is causal to each every day event.  Perhaps you think more like bees about it, and question constantly whether some honey is what attracted you, or is it the fact that you were attracted, what caused you to produce honey.  The only dreams which have any possibility of being remembered in our conscious mind, are those which exist in a cycle, from which there is no way out.  Yet we can alter the course of that cycle, when we know what all the other influences upon it are.

The first and last information anybody needs about altering a cycle of dreams, is that in finding any outcome to be inevitable, the only choice we have, is to either rush towards that inevitability becoming realised, or delay it for as long as we can until we find that it has some safe outlet.  Yet in either that rushing, or the delays we might achieve, we are not truly able to escape the sequence of the cycle.  Which is why it is good to learn what the bottom line, most basic story structure, you are born into, really is.

Further information on archetypes, is accessible by reading the modern scientific research about such phenomenon, as how a crowed of football spectators, are often all mentally participating in the dreams which carry  the football team through to victory.  Which is why football teams still like large live audiences, rather than just making everybody have to pay money to watch football on the television.  Yet which of all those of us who might watch a football match, were who have been active in positioning the kick, and which of us are sitting there simply receptive to all the potentiality for failure, admiring what one man can achieve that another cannot.

Another area in which science is now catching up with every indigenous culture, is in the field of immuno-genetics.  It has been discovered that all cells of any species, have a particular set of immune system regulated molecules, which are available at the surface of the skin.  Those are called major histo-compatibility complex, (or MHC).  Just as every indigenous culture, names that some of us, are born into an archetype which is more oriented to locations in space, whereas others are born into archetypes which are more oriented to locations in time, so it is with the MHC molecules.  We are stuck with being just like our mother is in this particular respect, regardless of what sort of type our father is.  We are either a crow, or an eaglehawk.  If we are an eaglehawk, and we have skin contact with another person, that engages in any feeling of pleasant exchange in either person, then if that other person is also an eaglehawk, we risk depleting the total variety of immuno-globins available in our blood and lymph, by causing a depletion of the variety of MHC molecules on the surface of our skin.  Yet if an eaglehawk person has the same sort of contact with a crow, then the total available variety of MHC molecules, and then also immuno-globins, will increase.  Between mothers and their children, there is no risk of depleting immunity, only so long as it is only the children who find the touch to be of any pleasure.  That is why mothers tend to feel soft, and also why, there comes a point in time for every child, when their father might instruct them to be less tactile with their mother.  We would be fools to believe that as human beings, we have any automatic conceptually greater control over our biological processes, than that happening among all flora and fauna; and this is borne out by the fact that everybody who studies any form of biological science, or the religious knowledge of why any living thing is as it is, are only able to feel less in control of their own biological processes, the more they know.

That is, apart from those strange buffoons who imagine being able to manifest money by how they damage their bodies, or worse even, imply any necessity to cause damage to other people’s health, thereby actually implicating their own health is at risk because of their attitudes to the nature of money.  In respect of archetypes, all that can be said in relation to money, is that focussing upon the dreams within which we relate to the possibility of acquiring money, actively causes further ignorance to every other possible outcome available in any dream sequence.  Why that might seem not to be the case, is only because the most wealthy of persons, obtain for themselves access to a higher degree of knowledge, about the range of influences upon our general health and wellbeing, and therefore including the influences upon our dreams.  The wealthy, who own the means of production, as well as owning the material wealth with which to employ other persons, tend to imagine that they have ownership of the dreams of those persons they employ, to an extent limited only by how much, or how little, money they are paying their employees.  We might realise that when we are earning more money, we are also dreaming with more ease, and so experience less stress, but the knowledge of why, is often put down to being a story about being able to pay for the doctor’s bill.  When we all know with certainty, that the methods of capitalism’s ownership of the means of production, is not also an ownership of the methodology of dream construction, the we will have made the way for a real, and peaceful, transition to socialism.

I know that this will feel somewhat remote from having to spend a weekend sleeping rough to learn this information, but the fact is, are you not more likely to go into a public library when you have nowhere else to go, and no other shelter in the city? Apart from which, you might take real note of the fact that we all dream more actively when our body is cold, which is somehow worth becoming exhausted enough to sleep cold for, and in turn, will prove worth the reduction in heating expenses for your winter housing.

However, there will be more words further into this story, about what the substance of dreams are, and in which, knowledge of the archetypes is simply the most basic building block of sustaining a realistic sane perspective.  I will not finish here before recommending to every one among you, and any and every person whom you should happen to speak to about these facts, not to rest in your knowledge of these matters, until you have figured out, and found corroborating academic verification for, what sort of interactions are the most fruitful between what sorts of persons.  Try reading Meggit on Aboriginal Australian Kinship as an easy enough, and readily available starting point, but do not forget also to ask around about what literature is available about Aboriginal Kinship structures in your own local area.  Are you already tuned up with the totality of story patterns which the local Aboriginal community are “sponsoring” for want of a better term.  Do not be afraid of removing the culture of Kinship abidance by finding out what it is all about, because in this part of Aboriginal culture, the more persons are among the group who believe in it, and adhere to it, the less alienation is experienced by the Aboriginal population.  So question yourself seriously here, are your dreams happening in the pattern of your employers? the pattern of your family or origin? the pattern of the local Aboriginal community? the pattern of a local council infrastructure system? or any other pattern defined by any other group you are affiliated with?  You do not need to know very much at all about these things, to stay aligned in the right patterns of effective human communication, which have been established in every place, for far longer than the cities and houses we might live in.  Just being more attentive to the Earth than to big city buildings, and more attentive to the plants and animals in your garden, can effect the necessary changes such that you can begin to experience you human relationships being more productive.  Take a bit of time to think about why it is that we have to realign ourselves like this, and why it is that the capitalists have a vested interest in causing us to be oblivious to the relevance of dreams and archetypes.

 

 

Religious Concept 5: Why We Experience Fear

I will be very brief here.  Fear is the most negative of all the emotions in a range from feeling happily content, through feeling sorrow, and anger, then fear.  It is actually a more negative form of sadness, where as anger, is the happier side of things having been debilitated and frustrated.  The basic emotions are either happy or sad, and there is one major rule which every religion teaches about how to mind our emotions, and that major rule, inhabits every secular culture also, in determining what is law abiding and well mannered.  The major rule is never express negative emotion.  Don’t worry if you like to have a good cry here and there, since crying is just as often an expression of anger, and can have real positive consequences.  However, certain sorts of emotional outbursts, are actually more fear oriented than anger oriented.  Normally, when we feel anger, our mind is still capable of rationalising.  Yet when we feel fear, we do not normally recognise why. 

That is the nature of fear, it is an unrecognisable sorrow.  Since the most urgent and notably accurate fear any of us might have, is the fear of death and of dying being painful, our bodies all have an inbuilt mechanism for forcing us to become attentive to what our fears are.  We might know that fear is unrecognisable sorrow, and feel afraid so be ill inclined to movement, or find that when angry we might lose recognition of what is causing the anger, and so begin to want to fight as the anger goes through a transition into fear, and the experiences of expressing fear, are the experiences in which we learn what it is we have been afraid of, by enacting the fear and making it real.  Most men who hit women, at the bottom line, are afraid of being unable to protect their wife.  The neatest way to accommodate fear, is to slow it down into the rate of motion by which fear is just simply more recognisable as sorrow.  Often tears of sorrow, when grieving, turn out to be self recognition that our own death is inevitable, and prove to be quite selfish if we demean ourselves by inflicting that upon other people. 

There are only two ways human beings engage with their fears.  We either fall into acting out the fear, or, we avoid it.  Obviously the second response is the more appropriate.

Yet how then, are we to avoid those reactions in which we mistake fear for other positive emotions, and wind up acting out what we are most afraid of?  Many various hippy trippy type pseudo-religious ridiculous attempts to imitate real religions, tend to have a part of their dogma in which they assert that we are our own worst enemies.  The problem is, that it is only too easy to find ourselves realising that is true, and we only need to consider the phenomenon of drug addiction to realise that.  There are many kinds of behavioural habits which we can become addicted to, many of which are not much better for our health than being addicts. 

Each habitual behaviour which leads into either loss of health, or recognition of death being inevitable, is being driven by an undetected fear. 

The fear of being implicated in the capitalist mode of production, for example, is used by the owners of the means of production, to manipulate the middle class who work in managerial positions.  Any of those people working in managerial roles, who are not recognising their function in earning money, as at least partly complicit with the capitalist economy, and therefore are also not acquiring a socialist education to learn how to counteract that, and so are not joining their trade union, etc, any and all of those people have the gaping weakness in their sensibility, of having not yet recognised the fear which is driving them.

There is a whole variety of different fears which many different sorts of counsellors, psychologists, and psychiatrists, work with, in attempting to diminish the fear.  Essentially all of them can be condensed into saying that we all feel accused of causing the exact situations, which we shared in common with one another, in which we find ourselves damned if we do, and damned if we don’t.  The solution inevitably of course is that we fear death, and there is no immediately simple solution that that quandary, in which only one story exists among all cultures, of one man having managed to escape death.  Yet as socialists, we do not need to believe fully ourselves in that story, as we might have learned of it, to be able to recognise it has a substantial social influence, simply because of the weight of the evidence present during Jesus lifetime, of a way existing to find release from the fear of death.  You might want to question whether the evidence had been real, but seriously, something really unusual and significant did have to have happened, so as for it to sustain a lasting impact today; as is no less the case with every story that sustains any longevity.  You yourself may not want to believe in the most positive thought patterns associated with belief in Jesus, and there are many other less positive ones to choose from if that is your inclination, however, whether you believe that the whole Christian, (and then also Muslim belief also in Jesus), world, is built on a set of lies, or is built on a really good true story, but has been ripped off by a set of lies, is your own choice that I cannot decide for you or even influence your own mind in.

Neatly put, even the hippy trippy weirdos who are determined to disprove Christian belief, find that Christian methodology is the best for diminishing fear.  Therefore, it would be absurd of socialists, knowing that capitalists have abused that methodology, to ignore the same methodology in working to enable more people to obtain a socialist education, by diminishing their fears of being complicit with capitalism.  Capitalism began after Christianity, and after Islam had also made those same methods, more accessible to persons other than only the descendants of those who had always held the keys that exist in written texts, of learning how to integrate the lessons of life into reducing the potentiality for death.  The history of why various religious forms began to exist, is interesting in this, but not so immediately relevant as the information that it is mainly made readily accessible in the religions of Christianity and Islam, which is that there exist very precise formulae for accessing the information about what fears exist in each individual’s subconscious, and then engaging individuals in working to prevent those fears from controlling their behaviour.  If we are afraid of being complicit with capitalism, but are not able to acknowledge that fear in our conscious mind, then our employers are able to take advantage of us through that fear.

Obviously however, when trapped into the psychology of feeling damned if you do and damned if you don’t, the ultimate resolution has to be acceptance of some form of damnation, and that resolution in Aboriginal Australian culture, is to have an open identification with an animal story.  Yet the full solution is not quite just that simple, and involves a set of communally shared beliefs in how we each need to believe in our adherence to our archetype story.  Everybody has their own human story as well as any animal affiliations of course, and the worth of any culture, is most accurately able to be sourced, in how neatly each individual is being given the psychological tools, within which to enable themselves to be adherent to their own human story for more of the time, and adherent to an animal story for less of the time.  Aboriginal Australian culture is relatively unique in that it establishes at the outset, that we begin with an animal propensity, and have to work to prove our human propensity, and interestingly, long before Europeans brought Christianity, Aborigines believed in the possibility of avoiding death permanently, if only we work hard enough to sustain our essential humanity.  However, there is another part of how our fears get the better of us, which is about our susceptibility to experiencing feeling accused. 

A lot of people take the attitude that if we are afraid of being made to feel guilty without knowing what we are being accused of guilt in, that therefore, we might as well just fall down into proving that we are guilty of one thing or another, because then, at least we know about it, and therefore, are eventually actually possible less likely to carry too much guilt.  That is only possibly but, because that will be the case only for those folk who drink alcohol, for example, who one day recognise that they were always afraid of becoming a dipso, and therefore, in recognition of the problem, prevent it.

Those kinds of fears, which we are often most likely to fall down in, can be readily detected through a fairly simple process.  Here, I can give you the example in myself.  I began with a recognition of a fear of what my mother gives me for my birthday, the process of discovering what fear underlies that one, and what is then under that one, and under that, resulted in recognising a fear of being proven correct above my mother in certain matters, because if I am correct, then I have also been wrong, in every example of not disagreeing with my mother.  It is quite a terrible fear really, but is also effectively now disempowered by my having realised that, of the two points of my disagreement with myself, there is no need to fear being proven correct, since if I am wrong, then I was also no less wrong to agree with my mother, since that might be what I was wrong about in the first place.  That fear connected with a fear of being disobedient, and in having been a very obedient child, the challenge which I need to undertake in order to combat the fear, and reduce is, is to consistently disagree with my mother, and be disobedient to her, while also proving myself as a law abiding obedient member of society more generally, within the limits of needing not to fall into the story in which I ran into trouble with being obedient to my mother.  The original fear of disobedience, came from the very mild and childish rebellion , of not sitting in the exact way she wanted me to sit on her sofa.  Yet as a fear, it blew itself up into tremendous proportions in which decision making for me, about whether to accept gifts from my mother, became arduous.  Now when I write it all out like this, it seems like I might be quite mad, but that is the exact sort of psychological process, in which petty minor incidents at an impressionable age, and within significant environments, tend to shape our whole personality and decision making processes in later life.  Yet now, even knowing all of this, there is still an irrational feeling of fear, which needs to be accepted by me, as simply a fear of death, (caused not be disobedience to my mother, but by having been accused wrongly of being even further disobedient to my mother than I ever actually had been at the outset, and in the fact that the accusation against me, was used by an acquaintance to try to blame me for her own disobedience, in which she imagined being able to spend her money by accusing and blaming me for her own disobedience to good advice about reducing greenhouse emissions . . . ), that was caused by not proving my own obedience to certain facts of life sooner, and then, once my fear of my own death having been caused, has been accepted by me, it becomes possible to reduce the actual fear.  But fears that other people imagine might be to their advantage, particularly in respect of money, (and this one had the particularly difficult connection of an acquaintance having wanted to accuse and blame me when buying a house), also need a process of reconditioning of the brain chemistry to be engaged in.  It most often turns out, in fact, that the best way to work to alter the brain chemistry, is to work with the fear in the form in which our external mind could first most readily acknowledge it.  So to combat the real fear, that started small, became blown out of proportion, and then diminishes itself once more, but into a fear of accepting gifts from my mother, what is the solution?  Ought I be avoiding accepting gifts from my mother, even sending them back in the mail, or accepting them within her opinion of what it is that I need.  My own inclination is to just give the next set of underwear away, but tell her about it also, yet I suspect that I am really only looking for a wrong way out of still being afraid to tell my mother that I do not need more pairs of undies, when perhaps I ought to just tell her.

It might surprise you to learn that those sorts of minor fears, are often what have lead any person into becoming unable to house themselves in the first place.  Obviously what weights it all up, is that somebody else found out about the original fear, and used it to blame, as though able to avoid their own culpability for being complicit with capitalism, by blaming somebody else.  Actually, my acquaintance was blaming me within an accusation of being unappreciative of my family, and imagined that I would be worth a whole house to her.   Probably her own fear of being complicit with capitalism is the far greater fear in the whole scenario.  Her particular, and far more obvious fear, than any of my own, was a fear of having to rely upon her in-law family for a deposit for a house, (while my father had promised me a deposit out of the increase in value of a house he was buying during the period I had been living in it: and for which I worked to improve the premises, rather than rely upon increasing property values; but wound up too distressed about my mother’s attitudes to the situation, and when I eventually moved out, removed the garden I had planted as part of that improvement; as well as having accepted a sum of money to get out of another debt, in lieu of the promised equity in that house), in which fear, my acquaintance was dealing with a family of in-laws who were far wealthier than her own family, and far more involved in the workings of the capitalise mode of production, who also demand of their own belief, a higher standard of compliance with reduction to greenhouse effect causing gases, than is immediately practically possible, that is, not without some level of withdrawal from counting upon capitalism to create a profit margin.  All that over wondering what to do if I get yet another set of unwanted undies.

The key is in needing to find one simple behaviour to change.  If it is a habitual behaviour, then it is simple enough to change it by displacing the habit into another habit.  Then eventually, letting ourselves learn to make all our habits good ones, which are not buying into any fear.

Think about why we even call fear something that we might “buy into”.

When is our own fear something which we are assessing as inescapable, perhaps because of what we ourselves are spending our money upon.

What then happens, when we spend our money on finding out what there is to be afraid of?  If the methodology of religion is correct, then spending money on learning the experiential lesson of learning why it is that we all are afraid of not being able to afford to pay to live in a house, ought to also highlight some other more minor, and ridiculous seeming fear, which is able to be avoided, whereas spending money on rent and a mortgage, is often enough inescapable. 

Actually I know quite a few people, and not only in Aboriginal communities, who have set up camp in another person’s back yard for a while, as a solution to not being a bothersome burden on friends and family, while also not being too afraid of the social conditions which drive most folk to lock doors.  Why not?

We are not always so immediately able to recognise a deep set fear, as in the example in my own story which I have provided, but most often the fears show up in our bad habits.  If you spend a weekend away from your own familiar environment, what is it that you notice you are most of all afraid of missing out on?

Whatever that is, try to challenge yourself about it.  Try to always, in only one single habit, oppose your natural inclination.  You’ll find it hard, but worth the effort.  If you need me to help with detecting what the best fear to work on is, I will be able also, but perhaps not always in the way you might have hoped me to be able.

Naturally, there is a bottom line with every fear, in which the way out of letting fear rule over you, is by facing it, and combating it directly.  That process of learning to consistently combat our own fears internally, without showing any fear, is the largest part of what religious instruction is really all about.  Within that, we have to learn that there are some fears, (the ones which resolve into total contradictions, yet in which we have already behaved as though there is no contradiction, and so instilled the fear with more depth), which can all be condensed into the simple fear of pain and death, and precisely, the fear of death itself being painful.  Sorry, but the way out of that one, has to be through it.  The simplest  way of saying it, is that “we cannot imagine what our own death will be like”.  Do not try to, because then you will learn why it is not a matter of imagination.

This next section of this booklet is more information about the original Brisbane City Treasure Hunt idea, and other similar “darker side of town tour” ideas, and why it is tangibly permissible and viable, within the whole analysis of this booklet, to use such ideas as commercial fundraising ventures, for socialist organisations, or by anybody who is really in need of the money, and prepared for all the work of running a small business, according to the basic principals detailed in this booklet.

 

The Business of Treasure Hunting

Most money “making”, money acquiring, and monetary value sourcing, is connected with proving that value exists.  Most businesses run from the principal of misinformation about the future potentiality of some value perhaps manifesting.  Perhaps we might look more valuable in new clothes, but usually not, and perhaps we might be more valuable if we eat expensive good looking meals, but usually not.  The absurdity of the story is that too many people measure real social value by assessments based on appearances alone, and usually even based on their own immediate appearance.  Guess what, it is possible to raise money for socialist causes, by proving to folk that they will not suddenly turn ugly if the Australian public elects a socialist government.  In fact, when we can attribute ugliness correctly to the causation of ugly social valuations, by the right wing of politics, it has a large impact on many voters.  To know how to get money out of anybody, you need to know what it is they want to treasure.

If they want to treasure your own handiwork as an artisan, you will sell it well.  If the public want to treasure some particular knowledge connected with a purchase, then they are more likely to make that purchase.  So what happens when we convince enough people to treasure the knowledge of how to effect social change through the economy?  Can we sell it? An idea?  Well ideas are often being bought and sold, but normally not the best ones.  But what if we try to sell the idea that if you buy this, you might not need to be spending so much money in the long run.  That is the basic premise behind most socialist fund raising.  We are selling the concept that it is possible to downsize the economy, downscale and diminish, if not totally dismantle, inflation and negative work place relations.  So why doesn’t everybody want to immediately buy it?

There is a reason for capitalism being dependent upon competition, that goes beyond the usual Marxist analysis, but is really part of the same reason.  It is about the way in which anybody who is attempting to obtain a profit by selling a commodity, may have fixed upon a specific mental image of something which may or may not, ever actually happen in the future.  There is a fixed, finite, and quantifiable, amount of possible future events which monetary profit can be extracted from, before the whole system of capitalism is either dismantled, having proven worthless, or causes the human species to become extinct.  However nobody knows what those possible future events, in which perhaps some more profits can be made, will be.  Nobody wants that finite set of future events which are profitable, to be causal to the end of life at Earth.  (Nobody that is, apart from a few imbeciles who imagine that by then they will have figured out how to move to a different planet: which is, although a quite insane concept, one that is being taken seriously by too many people with too much money)  If those future events, which prove to be profitable, are managed by persons who believe in the outcome of social justice for every individual, then they will spend those profits in a more responsible way, and that has long been one of the basis upon which ordinary people invest their money in ethical investments, and by which trade union organised superannuation funds, invest in the industries which their members are employed in.  Yet even more important, is the nature of the commodities which are being sold, and from which profits are being enabled.  What if those products are the very things which prove to the public that they are needing to focus their attention differently, are needing to buy less of other commodities, and are quite capable of using less electricity, driving their cars less and less often, etc.  It only makes sense that sales of things like the commodities with which to sustain a vegetable garden in the back yard, will have a longer time frame in which sales are viable, than will fruit and vegetable sales in the supermarket.  And then again, the manuals with instructions for seed saving, and compost making, will quite possibly have even more longevity, but only if there is also a way of keeping up with printing those items on paper, without chopping down forests.  Therefore there is a strong likelihood that farming hemp for paper may become viable, etc, etc.  There are many people who have make much research into all these things, and that knowledge base is not going to be wasted.  Many people seem to be sitting on really good ideas, because of a fear about what the mainstream big money capitalists will do if they get to invest in the idea first.  Yet perhaps that feint hope of making money out of really good ecologically and socially sound commodities, really needed to be provided to the capitalists, so as that they invest in what will prove that life can be sustained.  After all, if they cannot invest in what sustains life best, then they have no right to be calling themselves Christians, or Muslims, or claim to believe in any religious system by which to obtain knowledge about the probable, or possible future of the economy.

So this here idea, to enable an aspect of the tourist industry which shows tourists around the more unpleasant parts of town, or around the town as it is after dark, and sleeping rough on the street; is a sort of a play into that general understanding of why and how the economy will need to transform, and need to transform very rapidly.

The trademark, which is on this book, was begun through minimal sales of a few very basic commodities.  One were a set of craft kits for children and young females, with instructions for how to make specific craft items, and in particular the sorts of craft items that are socially sought after.  The idea was that learning to knit, crotchet, and embroider, is an important skill for females, and many males, in every culture, (that is fact still today with many families who rely upon an older female able to knit, who supplies everybody with handmade jumpers, of a higher quality than it is affordable to buy), and that in the modern world, not every teenage girl is learning those skills.  The other commodities which were have been sold under the same trademark, are poetry which tells the story of why capitalist accumulation can be disproven, and a treasure hunt through the city of Brisbane.  The idea with the treasure hunt, was that the treasure to hunt for and find, is essentially the information that religious law disproves capitalism, and so therefore, religious law also disproves that the sales of the treasure hunt, as a commodity which money could be exchanged for, have any infinite viability.  It is a sort of surprising situation in which the trademark ever came to even be made, however it exists and sustains some real commercial worth.  How could that be true, that such a trademark could ever even have begun to exist, if it is not for the fact that the whole economy will eventually turn around, and salvage life at Earth for the best interests of humanity and every other living being.

The company which owns the trademark, is a propriety limited company, with three owners at this time, who are all founding directors, (but two are silent in the company structure at this time), and whom are all Christian, Aboriginal culturally, and by family genealogy, even though two are white fellows, and all three also have a relatively thorough comprehension of Islam, and belief in what Mohammed taught.  There are also a few more, traditionally oriented Aborigines who know about the company and trademark, and in whose dreamtime belief it receives some support, and engages in exchanges which are law abiding within religious law, and which bind the owners of the company to traditionally oriented Aboriginal kinship, within the category of being blood relations, which is stronger than being skin relations, (though need not be birth type blood relations, as defined in traditional Aboriginal culture).  The form of internal organisational structure of the company, is fully adherent with the requirements of all religions.

What is relevant about these facts, is only the weight which any trademark can or cannot supply, to the reasoning of a buyer, for engaging in buying a commodity. The aim of a trademark, is to associate the commodity with the integrity of other commodities made by the same company, and so as that such integrity can be traced in time.

Now the point here, is that this booklet itself, is another experimental commodity among the set in which the trademark is held.  Will it sell?  Will it prove eventually more effective to manage the sales of ecology saving commodities, by a system of barter which exists external to the main thrust of the economy?  I think we need to achieve more than that, and that we need to force the whole economy into buying and selling the kinds of commodities by which individual persons and families will be able to realise that a more important way of life exists than their own, which is more attractive, (less ugly), and need not buy into fully believing in the capitalist infrastructure.  We need to be able to sell the idea that only ugly idiots believe in the mainstream media, and that the social status of going shopping for more than the most bare essentials, is quite tragic and to be socially shunned.  How but, if not by engaging in the actual system of trading which we are in disagreement with?  That is what this trademark is all about.  It is established within coherence with religious laws, and within coherence with the legislation of nation states, and within the compulsion of the owner, a propriety limited company, that it must be used on a basis that is eventually able to be proven to be not for profit.  That is what the law binding minutes of the company state.

The point is, however, that the trademark itself is the exact same sort of a trick as all the tricks within which capitalism is maintained.  Who receives dreams in which trademarks appear?  Who can manipulate those dreams?  What are such dreams able to cause people to believe about what they are buying?  Obviously, having a trademark, is establishing a company as willing to engage in the same competition which is driving the whole of the capitalist economy.  Remember now, that is the competition, to prove that certain outcomes which certain people tend to dream up, are among the finite set of economic possibilities which will be proven to be real.  I think it is worth attempting to sell the idea that the treasure in a big city, is what you learn on the streets after dark.  What can be learned is that you are a fool to be shopping in the city in the daylight, of course.  The knowledge in this booklet, being that evidence.

The challenge I am setting for all the socialists who read it, is whether you can reframe the same story, into a commodity which is more suitable for general sales than this booklet is?  What will it be? 

How you will afford to produce it, is a puzzle that I will have to leave in your own hands, since to produce even one copy of this booklet is an expense that the propriety limited company who owns the copyright and trademark, can hardly afford.  The company so far, is depending still on donations to break even, but nevertheless has managed to provide a considerable and consistent, charitable effort, towards meeting the totality of its aims and objectives.  Those aims and objectives include teaching of the sort of information that is in this booklet.  If you can come up with a product for sale, which meets the same aims and objectives as the company, access to the trademark can be provided in a pattern alike to a franchise, but of course, within the not for profit motivation of the company.  However, use of the trademark is totally dependent upon being able to engage in sales, without buying into the ways in which capitalism encourages people to trade, in which the real work sustaining the economy, is not being acknowledged.

This is the key knowledge: when people trade between either labour and money, or a commodity and money, certain exchanges occur in respect of the substances which dreams are made out of.  The balance of matter in the dreaming, is not equitably represented by the dollar value of the money; and that is the obvious underpinning of capitalism.  However, there is another way in which most exchanges in which money plays a role, are not equitable.  Most monetary exchanges engage people in exchanging one form of substance, of all the different substances which dreams are made of, with another form of substance.  Most individuals presume that if the exchange between labour and money, engages an exchange of, for example, substance A with substance B, that then, when money is exchanged back for a commodity, and presumably for a portion of the labour value of producing the commodity, that substance B, will be exchanged back for substance A again.  However, that is often not the case.  If A is a gaseous substance representing the value of labour, and B is a different gaseous substance representing the value of trade and money, it really seems quite right that we ought to be able to trade A for B, when we receive wages, and then trade B for A, when we buy commodities.  However, very often, in the sales of commodities, there is another exchange of A for B.

Yet, since that is true, surely, if we are working for a company which produces a commodity, then we can insist that when we exchange our labour for money, it is an exchange of B for A. 

Critically, we need to really be a hard worker, to engage in that process (possible at any ATM), otherwise we really are not improving the total situation.  My own observation is this: if we just stop ourselves from believing in the viability of any stable exchange rate within the capitalist infrastructure, and believe rather, that the rate at which labour is being exchanged for money, and money for commodities, which might sustain a labour value in combination with a re-exchange value just like money can, is fully variable and is normally engaging in such rapid variations that most of us are too frightened of what money really is to want to notice, and when we actually use money, we work to focus our mental concentration on believing that in every exchange we have the right to demand the exact worth of our labour, then, we simply begin to be able to sustain more realistic dreams, and more accurate associations between cause and effect.

You know how some folk just go through the same patterns over and over again, about wanting to hinge their whole worth on having other people dislike them etc, and in the extreme form, such persons are often suffering illnesses associated with obesity or alcoholism etc, well those are the people who are most often receiving the rough end of the stick, (accusations of being lazy and not worth the little money they might have), in every of the sorts of monetary exchanges which they are engaging in.  The addiction with overeating, for example, is really an addiction to wanting to prove that who is accusing you of being wrong for eating, is who is really in the wrong.  Clearly though, to the minds of who wants to accuse anybody of overeating, if you eat to disprove it, then you are still eating and so still wrong. It is actually those who make the accusation who are wrong, but to disprove them in a way that prevents them from being able to blame, you really do need to go hungry a while, despite the injustice of that fact.  It is true to say even, that overeating is caused by, every exchange of labour for money, undervaluing labour, and replacing it with an amorphous and intangible exchange value, which is then, when being exchanged for commodities, having the labour value even further undermined, because the trick of capitalism, is really in pretending that a dollar value is constant.  The whole of the system in which reserve banks set interest rates, is the lie in which everybody is being psychologically tricked.

Think about what sorts of commodities very wealthy people, and also more ordinary people who are discerning buyers, want to buy.  Not much of all the rubbish which is available usually, but normally also products which show evidence of labour value, rather than only having a pleasing appearance, or have a re-exchange value.  In fact, capitalists believe that money sitting in the bank is money being wasted.  They risk investing money in things which they cannot be certain of being able to sustain any trade value, because THEY are all involved in a gamble about where labour value will be socially accepted as belonging, by people purchasing commodities.  Try this experiment.  Try to buy a commodity within which you will find evidence of whether what I am telling you is true or not.

Many people buy drugs for the reason that using drugs enables them to believe in a certain way, in which they are more able to sustain their social value, usually because of criminals who are threatening to socially brand them with accusations of being unworthy.  Is it possible to buy what you might buy any drug for, when you purchase any other sort of commodity?  That is, can the effect on the brain chemistry, of the exchanges possible when money is being exchanged, be caused to happen in your favour at any cash register, and in respect of any commodity? 

You know that saying, that “money talks and bullshit walks”, well, if you start having any dreams of being the talk that money does, then you will be certain that the walk is worth making, and human; and at the very least, if folk are going to get around believing in talking money, I wish more will believe in the right words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The rest of this publication is only a few short parts of my considerations about what else you might need to know. Most of it is common sense.

 

Being Safe Sleeping Rough

Now, there is a large amount of advice I could provide here, however, I have half an idea, that it might be possible to pay a homeless person to be a real tour guide of any city.  Mind not to trust them though.  However their observances are worth relating to.  The way we look at a place is entirely different when we need to look with eyes that are seeking out a safe place to sleep at night.  It has happened to me a few times here in Brisbane, that I have befriended somebody who has at sometime had to sleep rough in the city.  They all have a similar pattern in making friends, of showing a person where their safe places are.  Whereabouts is safe, changes from week to week.  What exchanges are happening over the rubbish left lying around, and the free food distribution, changes also.  Who is the face on the exchanges of money for drugs changes as often as there is any risk of the supply chain being disturbed by undercover police.  Similarly there are security guards whose faces change also, and whom seem to enable that certain, more comfortable places to sleep, are only possible to be safe at, for those folk who buy drugs from particular sources, or whom have been the subject of assaults by particular gangs, etc.  Clearly, if anybody wants to receive any information from a person who sleeps rough in the city, or whom has ever slept rough for any prolonged length of time, then that person needs to be already now in a socially safe situation and lifestyle.  Folk who sleep rough in cities are normally very astute about the economy, but tend to have addiction problems, and tend to have made too many enemies in their past.  This booklet needs to highlight this issue, because of the fact that spreading around the sort of knowledge as is in this book, is known to cause a pattern of finding yourself in enemy territory, particularly among anybody who ever hope to be able to use drugs without attracting police attention.  Basically, if you want to truly value the knowledge in this booklet, then do not let any drug dealers know, even if they are nice drug dealers, or socialist drug dealers, or generally socially responsible folk who just happen to sell drugs to their friends so as to access the wholesale prices for an occasional party or night out.  Remember also that buying drugs is just as socially corrupt as selling drugs.

That is the first point about staying safe in a city at night. 

If you find that you cannot find anywhere safe to sleep without being expected to engage in drug sales, then don’t sleep.  Or find somewhere to sleep in the daylight, where you might be able to seem like you are somebody who lives in a house and who just happened to nod off briefly.  Sleep in groups of two or three persons whom you can trust, and take it in turns to stay awake.  Find places which are both out of the rain, and not likely to be observed by anybody, in which it is ordinarily safer to sleep in darker places, despite the risks associated with the dark.  Other than that, try to find a place where the police have a 24hour presence, and sleep in front of them directly.  However do not be surprised if you find that your dreams are far more frightening if the police are witnessing you sleeping rough in the city.

Most people sleeping rough here in Australia, are addicts, who are spending their centrelink income on, normally alcohol, rather than on housing.  The other drugs available on the street are far cheaper than the alcohol.  In general, if you want to make the plunge into a social experiment of sleeping rough for a weekend, among a group of your friends, do not buy or drink alcohol, or use any other drugs during the weekend, because the social consequences are insidious in respect of how that might impact upon your psychology.  It could be the kind of experience from which you learn that you either need to give up altogether for the rest of your life, or will only be able to worsen in the symptoms of your health being effected by alcohol use; and therefore, I will say that my advice is only advice, and you need to make your own decisions in that respect.  Often enough the homeless folk are more likely to let you in on their conversation and general communications, if you can get drunk with them only once, however this is a warning about that experience.  Do not trust anybody.

Try to make sure that you eat well.  If you attend any of the locations where free food is available for people who are sleeping rough, (the food is available in general for anybody who is hungry enough to tolerate the company), then try not to expose any real information about yourself.  Be polite to everybody.  Think deviously and with every caution about what other people’s motivation might be, but without ever assuming that anybody else has any criminal intentions.  Let everybody believe that you have at least one major fault about yourself, but that you know all about it, and have no need of it ever being mentioned.  Don’t show any other personal faults. Also don’t accept pieces of paper from anybody who seems to be trying to help, which have lists of free food times and places, because sometimes homeless people (and police) suppose that accepting being given such a list, is an acceptance of wanting to be forced into real homelessness.  The negative social stigma is not being attached to the act of sleeping on the streets, quite so much as the act of accepting charity.  That fact is something we all need to bear in mind.

In general, there is a set of other rules which apply to sleeping rough in the city, as equitably as they have application to sleeping rough anywhere, or any social situation.

Leave the place as you found it.

Don’t let fires near flammable materials, or flammable materials near fire.

Take careful note of where water flows from and to, and don’t get yourself wet.

If you get lost, don’t panic, but follow your instinctive sensibility.

Be attentive to all your perceptions, and also try to gauge who else is perceiving the same sorts of things as you are, remembering that normally you will obtain more information by watching body language, than by any other mode of communication.

Remember that it is often the case, that to receive knowledge, you also need to provide some, and don’t be afraid of giving a bit of knowledge away.

Be constant and consistent in observation of regular comings and goings, which will include those of animals as well as people, and different kinds of people and animals, in different hours and different seasons.  Which tree in the Botanic Gardens has bats sleeping in it, is important information if you want to avoid waking up to bat poo on you in the morning, so just use your ears and eyes well.  Don’t worry too much about curious town possums and be kind and generous to all living beings, but don’t pet anything.

Observe the weather carefully, but don’t talk about it.

 

And what ever happened to Bob Hawke’s promise that no Australian child need go hungry . . . ?

For anybody who will seriously want to try to sleep out in Brisbane City, I was going to put here a list of all the places at which free food is available for the homeless, but, I really don’t think I will now. 

I have something to say about this free food as well.  Now, it is in my experience to know, that many of the folk who are eating that food, are actually well able to afford to buy their own food.  Most of the people eating it who are sleeping out in the streets, are only eating that food so as that they can spend more of their money on alcohol, and I wonder whether we are really helping them much by giving them food.  Perhaps it is useful for them to know that there will often be somebody to go to if they want to try to give up on using alcohol, but they are more often using those generous people as their excuse to drink.  Worse than that but, is the fact that many of the city free food distribution outlets, (charity services for the homeless), have many undercover police around, because the police are trying to reduce sexual violations against the younger people who become homeless, so that they are not becoming trapped into prostitution and drug crimes.  But where the police go and do their surveillance work, there are normally also other criminals, who do know something about the crimes which the police are trying to investigate, and those other criminals tend to bring with them to those same places, a few of their victims who they have most terribly been abusing, and they set up those victims, so that the police have been imagining that the victims are the perpetrators.  The police who are policing the city streets at night, were even beginning to become convinced that the paedophile rings in the Brisbane area were all being run by people who have brain damage, because that is who seemed to be the suspects at the free food outlets.

I suspect that real drug dealers, are trying to make it seem like the drugs they sell are only food, and to do that, they rely on free food being handed out, becoming thought about like a drug.  The delusion is based in a criminal manipulation of dreams about what the meaning is of words like “food and drugs administration”.  Weird huh!  And a sort of weirdness that needs being warned against.  In this instant, the police were not implicated at all, but it was a network of drug sales “pitches”, covered by a rotating set of recently released prison inmates, which was making free food distribution in Brisbane City too dangerous for a long time.

 

I can’t write this booklet without saying something about these facts.  When Bob Hawke promised that no Australian child need go hungry, he did not mean to have set up a system by which victims of child abuse in the home, as they age out on the streets, are being blamed by the police, only because they want to find a few friendly faces at the places where the charities provide free food in the city.  The most obvious fact is that out in the suburbs, where children usually live, the free food is not arriving.  There are, of course, charities who have places where families can go for a free food parcel, in every part of any Australian town.  But some days even the bus fare to get to the offices of the charities, and be approved for a free food parcel, while caring for children, can be prohibitive.  So the charities will come to your door if you can afford the phone call, and also if you have not asked already too many times in the year.  But then the nature of the food which is being supplied, is often not really what a hungry family actually need.  It is usually mainly the cheapest kinds of junk food, with a few sausages, bread, long life milk, tea, and sugar.  When there are hungry children their needs are really for food with vitamins, meaning fresh fruit and vegetables.  If you ask the charities, and tell them that you are a vegetarian, for example, they will often be able to provide a food voucher, instead of the prepacked parcel.  But they also normally will have run out of funding for those vouchers before the end of every financial year.  Those are the sort of vouchers which are just like the system in which the centrelink money for Aborigines effected by the intervention, is now being paid.  Whereas, if you are an old homeless drunk in the city who is prepared to tolerate the police having branded you as a suspect paedophile, there are plenty of either free, or very cheap, three course meals available.  However the social environments in which that sort of meal is being offered, are simply not the sort of place anybody would want to take their children into.   Sometimes mother’s are there with their children, simply because there is nowhere else to go for a free meal, and I have often mentioned to them, that perhaps it would be a good move for the charities to start up community meals in church halls out in the suburbs, and they normally will agree with me emphatically.  I learned about these things because there are a few of the free meals for the homeless where fresh fruit and vegetables are served, and I don’t happen to have a refrigerator at my house, so often will not buy more than a few days worth of perishable food.  But because of the attitudes of the police, it became impossible for me to eat with the homeless, even when the homeless people in the street had shown me who not to trust, are, still now, providing me with some sort of protection for myself if in the city at night.  It is not possible for the police to prove that their job is worth doing, while ever they are endeavouring to blame the victims.  The reason I am providing this list of places where free food can be obtained, is so that other socialists might be able to obtain the same degree of evidence about how the police have been failing in their work, as I have.  The worst part of the story, is of course, that at the same free food places, where the police are often being shown up for having been blaming the victims of the crimes they are meant to be preventing, the fewer individuals around, who are criminals, and who are likely to be either drug dealers, or who could lead other people to the very people who are likely to be abusing the younger homeless persons, (and the older among also), are also who are sitting there, watching the police making mistakes, and taking advantage of the knowledge that the police are making mistakes.  So the police are finding themselves being effectively policed more assiduously, in respect of their policing of certain types of crimes, by the perpetrators of those crimes, rather than, as is the case in places where the police have a more socially acceptable status, that they could be themselves more readily placed under open public scrutiny in their efforts to reduce crime.

If it has happened that you would really like to get out into the streets and make your own adventure of finding out what life is like for the those at the bottom of the heap of this society, can I advise a few things.  Do stay among a group of your own friends.  If you want to make our own investigations of what goes on at the free food vans and similar places, then do that when you actually have a safe place to sleep that night, because sometimes it is difficult to get away without being tailed by somebody with criminal intentions.  If you and a group of friends, want to make a weekend adventure of camping out in the city streets, then organise another friend, who can volunteer to do all your cooking for you, and be your own food van, which comes and delivers the food at set times and places, which you can establish in advance.  So if anybody wants to try to manage a real “Unhoused Holiday” adventure among a group of, young-enough-to-need-an-adventure, but also, wise-enough-to-avoid-trouble, people who have an interest in learning about why we are socialists, then perhaps it can be managed as a fund raising venture, by getting people to pay for their food in advance for a whole weekend, and having the food catered in bulk, rather than relying on either takeaway food, or the free food vans and places where cheap meals are able to be bought from charities. 

You really do not want to have to sleep on the street at the same time as needing to obtain your food from one of the homeless person’s free food distribution places if there is any fear response in you about the company kept in such places.  Yet nevertheless there is some real worth in subjecting yourself to the conditions in which the poorest people among us are living.  Remember that all the drunks sleeping on the street did not start out as drunks, but often enough, were themselves first prevented from accessing normal social relations. Often, they are people who have made some sort of choice in their lives, that they would rather not be bound by the constraints of living in the mainstream society, and needing to sell their labour for a wage.  Their stories are all interesting, and they normally want to be able to tell somebody about their own perceptions of what real social value is.  You will always be safer among them when you can respect what their perceptions of social value have been caused by, and what those values are.  Some of them are dangerous, but most are not.  Some of them align themselves with the far right wing of politics, but more of them are more likely to want to work and want to be aligned with the trade union movement, if you can find a way for them to trust you enough that they will tell you about their politics.  Many are afraid of telling about having left wing political inclinations.  They are people who often will not want to learn to live in houses and pay any rent, but who have not lost sight of what the difference is between a well oiled, well functioning society, and this one.  They do not always like to tell you their name, but you might find that a few are brave enough to show you around the city from their point of view, if you are brave enough to pay them as a tour guide. 

Now perhaps you might be able to find a way to pull this idea together in your own local towns and cities.  If you want another copy of this book, or a few, use my email address already provided to obtain permission to make copies.  The advantage of just making it a weekend on the streets, is that no capital investment is required, beyond having some way to provide the correct intellectual stimulus, so that discomfort is able to have a positive effect. Ask around for  a volunteer who can cook for the weekend, and has a vehicle, find a friendly enough homeless person who is willing to show you around for a good cause as well as enough money to stay happy while showing you around.  It is feasible to organise a weekend tour of a city like Brisbane, for about $50 each for eight people, (who receive food plus a tour plus some learning stimulus like this booklet), and the books might cost $5- to produce copies of, the food, another $20- , and then out of the other $200- being paid, what you might pay to a tour guide, is on your own conscience.  The idea could easily become a major money earner for a socialist organisation, especially if you can find a way to package the tours so that they can be accessible to actual tourists.  For example, including a walking tour of every Art gallery in the City district.  But there are also a myriad of other sorts of ideas for making money which this booklet can be applied to.  The rules for using these ideas are: supporting lifestyles which diminish the greenhouse effect causing emissions; a commitment to the intellectual rigour of any one of the various Socialist and Marxist dogmas; an overt willingness to undertake participation in experiential learning of traditionally oriented Aboriginal culture, or of enduring the sort of physical hardship which instils improved levels of self discipline, as a positive social function.

What is it which is the underside of the town in your own place, that somebody might want to pay to see?  Do you know?  And if you know, is it actually really something which you really want to be preventing, rather than asking for more of it to exist, by selling it as a commodity?  Be very sure before you try to start up your tour.  There already exist books about the city of Brisbane named “Bloody Brisbane”, and “Haunted Brisbane”, but what about the left Brisbane, the depths of Brisbane, and the worth of any major city, measured by the investment of human achievements in it.  What sort of knowledge about your city is both worth disseminating and commercially viable to sell as a tourists guide to the city, remembering that commercial viability, is always based in the gimic.  There is also a new set of cards available about where the best shopping is, the best places to get drunk, and the best of anything you might want that will prove to everybody that you are not the best yourself.  Those publications use the gimic of naming a place to spend money, as though it is secret from most people, as though the best retail outlets every became the best by being secret, or became able to be promoted in an advertising gimic by being a secret. The aim of the game has to be the hunt, and the treasure which is to be hunted, has never been the faults which might or might not exist, but rather, the treasure is the lesson to learn by hunting, that it is the hunt which we learn through, and so the hunt itself has always been the treasure. 

Now apply that logic to the Art world.  Quite a lot of good Art complies with the conditions required to lean on the understanding communicated in this booklet.  Art is normally already like a treasure hunt, or a map.  Even the Art of most European Artists.  But beyond that, it is the emotional investment, and the belief of the Artist, about what they paint, while painting, which make Art valuable.  If it is good Art, it will be making a story for who eventually buys it, that is almost the same as taking somebody on a tour. The deals known as “carpet bagging”, and thereby made infamous, because of the high value of Persian carpets, as objects of desire, decoration, cultural information, and the Dreaming; do not diminish the value of that “tour”, but increase it. Aboriginal Art, just like with the Persian Carpet industry, has a real long term investment prospect, above and beyond that of the entire rest of the Art market, because of the Artists understanding of their world, of the environment around us all, and of the real value of money.  It’s no more than the society’s cover story.

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