Just had a talk with a smart Christian guy on Memorial Glade of the UC Berkeley campus. He was taking a survey apparently bu I think he’s just trying to convert people into his campus Christian club.
After a nice talk about truth and morality, the conversation went sour when he kept trying to tell me that Christianity was THE ONLY truthful way to describe “what is.” I kept saying something to the effect of “the Universe is a constantly changing entity so rich and multidimensional that ‘competing’ spiritual doctrines are not really ‘competing’ at all, rather describing different, or even the same aspects of the same grand thing, and that in fact one of the very deepest roots of human suffering comes from declaiming one set of ideas (or religions) as being ‘better’ than the other, and that really everyone should just be thinking about how to live peaceably and happily together on our wonderful, insane planet and generally be compassionate towards all people and their ideas…”
One of the best and heaviest songs ever in my opinion.
LSD-soaked visions of dancing imps, Aleister Crowley chanting at midnight, crowds of people screaming and running in firestorm, Satan smiling, the dark imprints of nonexistence on our souls, demonic pleasures and pains of humanity tempted, affirmed, released….
”Raga is living souls. Raga mean living souls. From morning to next morning raga cycle. And raga always in between the notes Notes help to make the raga because, like you are breathing the body is a note you suppose and breath is a raga moving and every breath have a different feeling So this is the meaning of raga”
I recently had the joy of visiting La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela’s Dream House in New York City, which was a lovely experience. It is literally a sound environment. A room filled by standing wave zones which form a striking, physical web such that as the observer walks through the room, or turns his/her head, or in any way changes the state of his ears, he/she experiences a distinct sound-space. The question as to what sounds are real vs. what is being created by the observer him/herself arises. I found distinct melodies, tones drooping or ramping up, reverberation and a wealth of pitches which certainly did not exist within the actual sounds. (The overseer of the Dream House told me that the tones are constant, specific frequencies which were chosen according to some philosophy of Young’s) I felt the spirits of these people I idolize—Young, Zazeela, and their teacher Pandit Pran Nath—only to find out that Young and Zazeela (married) live downstairs! They have been listening to Dream House drone upstairs for 20 years. Apparently they keep a tamboura droning in their own space to counteract the noise. I didn’t feel comfortable disturbing people like that, but I wished I could meet them, especially since the volunteer overseeing the space was being all pretentious and not answering my questions about Young’s philosophy, the intention of the House, etc. Hate when people are like that.
Anyway, Pandit Pran Nath, the guru/teacher. His approach to raga is slow and deep. Check it out . Incidentally who should be beside the Pandit in the video’s mainframe but Young and Zazeela.
I love Pran Nath’s Raga Cycle: Palace Theatre, Paris 1972, so check that out too.
I was listening to this track today, making peace with its astounding brilliance, and with deciding to post it came to the knowledge that this track is off Laraaji’s first album, and that up until this point, Laraaji had been studying music, acting, and stand-up comedy before buying a zither, busking with it on the streets of New York, playing it in Washington Square Park until being “discovered” by Brian Eno to then release this on their first album together. Great story.
He now leads Laughter Meditation Workshops across the globe.
Is there a story with more soft beauty and preciousness?
I didn’t mean to make it awkward, didn’t intend to be rude or hurtful, I was just real mixed up; I had a bad day, had a bad night last night cause you left and I miss you too much even though I shouldn’t cause you’ll never have me anyway as much as I want you. You say I’m “not your type” well that’s okay but I think we’ve got a lot in common or I wouldn’t be up nights dreaming about your passions, I wouldn’t be at your door too scared to ring the bell cause I know I will see you and it’ll be all over again for three weeks recoiling from you—I wouldn’t write this if I didn’t miss you like a childhood memory I never thought I could lose. I just want you to know I don’t blame this on you. I know I’m in a bad place, shit’s really hit the fan this time, but it’s not you that did this to me, it’s just the way things went I guess; I thought a lot about things you said and I realized you were right: I don’t know who I am or what I want in a lot of things—life just seems to move too quickly and I can never quite catch up or maybe i don’t want to catch up. I don’t know.
Anyway I realized that I was just using you as a scapegoat for all the bad shit I’ve been feeling and that it’s your choice who to love so I shouldn’t expect anything. If I’m angry it’s because I can’t handle who I love or when, and I hate not being in control of myself so I had to steal all that shit I didn’t want just to show I could do it—I know it was stupid but I just felt like it was all I could do. I never meant to get you all mixed up in this shit—they just asked me a name so I gave them yours since it was the one I thought of first. I didn’t meant for any of this to come to you—I was just confused, and maybe I’m always confused and it’s eating me up inside to know that I was the one that made you do this even though I know things are going to be alright the way they always are.