|
A FEW EXCERPTS FROM THE BOOK:
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT! - One Primate's
Search for Intelligent Life
The experienced below happen a
few days before I left for Marine Corp Boot Camp at Parris
Island, South Carolina
Indian Mystic Visits In My Dream.
In
the early part of September (I think it was on the eleventh but
my journal is smudged so I am not sure), I woke up from a sleep
from the familiar vibratory feeling. I did not have the glowing
in my head, but the other sensations were like what I had
experienced on the couch in my parent’s living room. I felt as
though my non-ordinary self left my body. I was not in a
position to see my body on the bed or any part of what I was
familiar with. Instead I seemed to be transported suddenly to
what appeared to be a
tropical
area of the world but I was not sure where.
I was
approaching a man that was lying on his side with his legs
folded together at odd angles.
He was wearing a loincloth
of sorts and he had a meager plaid pattern blanket over his
shoulders. He had a very large head with broad features and
piercing dark eyes and very prominent and heavy brows. His nose
was large and broad and his mouth was wide with prominent lips.
He was balding with very close-cropped white hair and his face
was covered densely with very close-cropped white beard. He
still had a lot of dark peppering of hair throughout his beard.
His ears were very large (Almost as large as my Uncle’s Jose’
ears) and they stuck out noticeably from his head…like the radar
dishes…just like my uncles” I thought.
His body was very
odd; reminding me of a large spider…his body was very thick,
flabby in the trunk and his arms and legs appeared to be flabby
yet thin in comparison. He was very supple and flexible judging
by the odd positions he was holding himself in. He was chanting
in a singsong voice that was in a language I could not
understand. I think it was a language spoken by the people of
India. As he was chanting I saw that he had perhaps five teeth
left in his mouth. He seemed not to be embarrassed in the least
of his almost toothless smile. There was a group of people
around him and their manner towards him was of reverence. They
were dressed in robes, and clothes that also indicated to me
that I was in India…or at least my non-ordinary body, or dreams
thoughts were in India.
As I came closer to the
group, the man who was the center of attention put his full
attention on me and smiled at me with his gapped toothed smile.
He said something to me by I could not understand in his
language…however as his words were externally indecipherable to
my ears…I heard the words in the interior of my mind, “Welcome,
I know you…and now I see you.”
I was startled by his
saying that he knew me…I certainly did not know him.
He spoke again and his
words I heard sounded like gibberish and yet I heard in my mind,
“I am saying farewell to all my brothers and sisters...to all of
God’s children.” “Are you here to see me off?”
I said to him, “I don’t
know who you are and I don’t know what you mean?”
He laughed showing more gums
than teeth and he said, “That’s okay, God knows who you are and
he knows what you and I mean.”
He seemed to introduce
himself by pointing and saying a few Indian words that sounded
like a person introducing their full name, and only thing I
understood in my mind was that he seemed to say father something
or another. The only word in his language that I remember is the
word or name Baba, or some such thing. Despite his exterior
homeliness, he seemed to radiate an energy that bespoke of
beauty, purity, and I felt I was in the presence of a holy man,
or even a saint. His eyes were twinkling and piercing. He seemed
as if he could see to the depths of my soul. I felt his gaze
both unsettling and yet comforting.”
He said, “I am going away
and my brothers and sisters are saying goodbye until we are
together again.” “Why are you here?”
I
said, “I don’t know”
His
laugh was musical, “You don’t know?” “God knows why you are
here… you are here because I am leaving.” “You are here, to
listen to what I have to say to all of God’s children.” The
saint said, “Please always remember, that all religions are the
same.” “They all lead to God.” “God is everybody…the same blood
flows through us all, the arms, the legs, the heart, all are the
same.” “See no difference, see all the same.” He continued and
said, “Love the poor…serve them.” “Give everything to the poor,
even your clothing.” “Give it all away.” “Jesus gave it all
away, including his body.” “Feed everybody.” “Give not only food
for the body, but also food for the heart, give direct and
unconditional love.” He smiled and then he said, “You should
love everyone as God, and love each other.” “If you cannot love
each other, you cannot achieve your goals.”
He motioned to the people
that had been sitting around him and one at a time they
approached him and put a basket or article of food near him and
then they made an odd gesture and supplicated themselves in
front of him. With one of his unusually shaped hands he tapped
them on the top of their heads and muttered something to them.
Each person stood up and backed away respectfully with a look of
rapture on their faces. He motioned to me to come forward.
I was self conscious that I had
nothing to offer. I said, “I don’t have anything... I am sorry.”
He smiled and said; “Come.”
And I emulated the others by kneeling and bowing my head towards
this wondrous enigmatic saint. He murmured, “Remember…do not
forget.” He touched the top of my head with his hand and I felt
a jolt of blissful energy rush through my non-ordinary head and
body... I exploded…or perhaps more like expanded into
nothingness… into everything. I woke up in the early morning
feeling blissful and perplexed. This was one of the strangest
and most vivid of dreams and I was not sure as to what it
meant…if anything.
Years later, I was to hear
some theories from a few of the mentors that I would meet as to
what this experience meant. At the time, I thought it might have
been brought on by the new stresses and realities that have
become a part of my life.
Obstacle Courses Were Not The Only Obstacles
I loved the obstacle courses and night combat, crawling
through and under barbwire and bayoneting for claymore mines. We
all would imagine ourselves as heroes, just like John Wayne,
surviving the challenges of combat, protecting our country from
the godless communist that hated our democracy, our freedoms.
All the years of imprinting from television depicting war as
heroic and noble had served its purpose. I thoroughly enjoyed
the PT (Physical Training), though hand-to-hand combat training
scared me. Still, I did well in it. In addition, there was
simulated fighting with rifles and bayonets (Pugil sticks).
Our job was to stick, parry, and slash, as well as being
taught to do maximum damage with the butt of the rifle. The
Pugil sticks were hard wooden sticks covered with lots of thick
padding on both ends. There was an area on the stick we held,
but our hands were protected with gloves, our heads with
football helmets, and our groins with a girdled cup. The most
likely thing to be injured was one’s pride, although there were
those exceptions.
I feared those exceptions. There were a few scenarios
that we were likely to face in combat and we incorporated them
into our training. In one scenario, two men were to face off
against each other, both with sticks. Another scenario involved
one guy with a stick facing off against two men with sticks.
Another had one man with a stick fighting and the other man with
gloves, and in the extreme scenario, one recruit with gloves
fought two recruit with sticks. We all had to train in each
scenario.
But before we had to go against each other, our drill
instructors showed us how to train and practice against a
variety of dummies. They showed us how perform endless exercises
of jabbing, stabbing, parrying, thrusting, slashing, blocking,
hitting and pounding. Once we mastered the dummies, we then
graduated to do the practice exercises with each other. All of
us strived as hard as we could because we were aware of the
potential violence we would face when we fought each other in
every combat scenario.
Eventually, our drill instructors decided that we were
all prepared to be killers. We were ready to go at it with each
other for real. Standing on the sidelines as I watched the life
and death combat of the other recruits I struggled to control my
growing fear and I tried to amplify my growing excitement and
aggression along with my desire to do well, to please my drill
instructors and to impress my fellow recruits.
As I stood on the sidelines, readying for the real life
combat, I could feel that the air was thick with potential
danger. Every one of us that were watching the combatants were
screaming our encouragement for someone, anyone to dominate and
subdue their opponent, to beat each other to a bloody pulp.
Every one of us was reverting and becoming our atavistic
killer-ape ancestors.
In the back corners of my mind a part of me felt that
all of this was wrong and I was concern for the safety and
dignity of my fellow recruits. In the forefront of my mind, I
was concerned with my safety and dignity and as wrong as
it was, I wanted to do the best that I could. I wanted to excel
in violence. I reasoned that getting hurt and injured was not
desirable, getting beat up and losing would be worse, and the
added humiliation of losing face in front of the other recruits,
would be the bad cherry on a cluster-fuck pie.
For the sake of time efficiency our drill instructors
set up three separate combat arenas, with one drill instructor
per arena, so that they could monitor three fights at once. I
had opportunity to engage in a variety of the scenarios. Each
time I went in jacked-up on fear and aggression. Almost every
one of my conflicts ended with me the victor. I suppose I was
lucky that most of my opponents weren’t too much bigger than me.
For some reason, I seemed to fare better than most of the other
recruits, losing only one or two conflicts and those had been
close.
On the
last day of hand-to-hand combat training, my drill instructors,
in their infinite sadistic wisdom decided to put me in the worst
scenario. I was now required to be equipped with only gloves
while I was to fight against two recruits with pugil sticks. As
if to confirm their dubious humor and their definite streak of
sadism, they decided to pit me against my two squad-leaders who
had planned and participated with a few other recruits to beat
the crap out of me. These two brutes delighted in violence and
they had led numerous recruits in many a blanket party.
I was terrified
at the prospect of going against these two huge men.
They were the biggest men in the platoon; and I was
still smarting from the blanket party beating I had suffered at
their hands.
My drill
instructors choice of opponents for me filled me with feelings
of outrage, “It just wasn’t fair”. I had thought their
selection was especially fucked because I was one of the
smallest recruits in the platoon pitted against the largest. It
was also unfair for two other reasons; I would be at a distinct
disadvantage because it would be two to one. They, armed with
pugil sticks that could extend their reach, against little
pitiful me without a weapon. “It just wasn’t fair”, my
terrified mind screamed once again. Over the years I would be
reminded time and time again, “What does fairness have to do
with anything?”
When the two squad leaders saw who their victim was
going to be, they flashed broad arrogant smiles between them.
The fear centers of my brain were amply stimulated and I
detected a familiar acrid taste of primate panic – it was my
own. As I started to feel primal animal terror and rage rising
up in me, jolting an adrenaline surge, my heart started
hammering, a buzzing of white noise roared in the interior of my
head and a sharp edge of vomit threatened to erupt forth. I had
a dismal feeling that I was living on borrowed time.
As they strode towards me, they radiated menace and
contempt, their handsome ebony faces stretched into snarling
masks of bestiality and their bodies seemed to tremble with the
impending violence they were going to gleefully commit on me.
They were cussing and jeering at me as they tried to double-team
me. The dual emotions of fear and hostility crackled between us.
“I’ll fuck you up, you little mother fucker,” one of them
taunted.
The other wanting to give his two cents snarled, “Your
dead man, your fucking dead!” They must of sensed my terror as I
kept moving to keep them from double teaming me, their contempt
for me grew as did their confidence that they were going to beat
me to a bloody pulp. “Yeah, that’s it you little pussy, you
better be afraid mother fucker!”
The screaming bloodlust of all the recruits wanting to
see murder and mayhem could no longer be heard; the white noise
in my head drowned out all noise, even the continuing jeers and
threats of my two squad leaders fell into the background. I
could almost hear my synapses singing. My vision narrowed to a
red-hazed tunnel. I went totally and utterly amok! I became pure
mindless reflex. I went beyond normal awareness. I was in fifth
grade once again, fighting for my life. I was told later that I
was gibbering inarticulately and appeared insane.
I came in quickly and ripped the stick out of one squad
leader’s hands and proceeded to pound the crap out of him with
murderous intent. Somehow, I managed to keep my victim between
me and my other opponent who was circling in an attempt to
bludgeon me. Finally, the drill instructor pulled the injured
man out of the fray. I savagely launched myself at the other
squad leader and I managed to quickly beat him to the ground.
Someone had said that the look on his face at that moment was of
stupid disbelief and terror. My blood lust was so great that I
was screaming and gibbering, while continuing to pound him
repeatedly, over and over again with the frequency of the blows
increasing exponentially in time. I continued to beat him even
with the drill instructors blowing their whistles and screaming
at me to stop.
At last, Sgt. Valentine, who was enormously strong,
grabbed me and flung me back several yards onto my ass. He and
the other drill instructors rushed to surround me as they chewed
me out for not obeying the whistle and their orders. It took a
while for the red fog of rage and fear to lift. During this
time, I felt strangely removed from normal consensual reality.
The buzzing in my head slowly subsided, my synapses started to
quiet and then my leg muscles began to twitch and shake from the
adrenaline crash. Time felt very slow, like moving through
molasses. I slowly became aware that my body was drenched in
sweat, I felt very tired and oddly at peace and still removed
from everything... from the world.
As I marinated in post-combat bliss, both of my squad
leaders - the men I defeated - came over to shake my hand and
congratulated me for my victory. Like Billy in fifth grade, they
had a new respect for me and now they wanted to bond as
comrades. I still could not understand this bizarre phenomenon.
Unlike my fight in fifth grade, I did not weep from the
horror and violence I committed this day.
Give My Man An Extra Steak!
The entire day after the pugil
stick fight, I worried about what the drill instructors were
going to do to me for not obeying their orders to stop as I
mindlessly kept beating the squad leaders. I just knew I was
going to pay for not responding to their orders in a bad way.
Finally, when we got back to the main area of Paris Island it
was time for supper.
They marched us straight to
the chow hall and, as I was in line getting my food, Sgt.
Valentine came up behind me, putting a strong hand on my
shoulder and squeezing it firmly. He startled the hell out of
me! All I could think of was, “Oh boy, here it comes.” He
had a big grin on his face and proudly said to the recruit
serving food, “You give my man an extra steak and make sure it’s
a big one. My man did fanfuckingtastic at kicking ass today.”
The recruit complied and Sgt. Valentine said to me, “Enjoy your
extra steak, Private Chimera, you done real good today.”
I yelled out in savage
pride, “Sir, yes sir!”
In a competition between
our platoon and another, one of our guys, I think his name was
Robert Wagner, broke the jaw of his opponent. Our drill
instructors acted pissed, but true to form, when we got to the
chow hall Sgt. Valentine ordered an extra steak for the
jaw-breaker. “That’s my man,” he crooned.
Another Dream of India
Sometime in mid-November,
after a grueling day of P.T. and military training, I laid
exhausted on my bunk; my entire body felt leaden. I fell into
merciful oblivion. Later in the night, I felt myself awakened by
the vibratory humming I had experienced a few months previous. I
tried to encourage the feeling without thinking about it,
because from experience I knew I could easily lose it. I then
had another out-of-the-ordinary experience. I felt my
non-ordinary self leave my ordinary body.
I found myself again in a
land that I thought to be India. I was standing before a very
old wizened woman who appeared to be in her nineties. Although
she did not appear to be from India as did the mystic in my last
non-ordinary experience; she did seem to be a person of
importance as there was a group of people around her emitting an
attitude of reverence. She looked at me but, unlike the Indian
mystic I had seen in my dream two to three months previously,
she did not ask me why I had come or what I was doing. She acted
as if my presence was to be expected.
She looked at all of us and
spoke in a language that sounded much like the mystic in my
other dream. Her language changed to what sounded like French,
and then to what I thought to be Arabic or some such Middle
Eastern language, followed by a few others. Except for a few
French words, I could not understand what she said in the normal
way. Each time she spoke a different language to the people in
the group around her, I seemed to hear what she was saying in
the interior of my mind: “
I am
Mirra your mother. I belong to no nation, no civilization, no
society, no race, but to the divine. I obey no master, no rules,
no law, no social convention, but the divine. To Him I have
surrendered all: will, life and self. For Him I am ready to give
all my blood, drop by drop, if such is His will. Complete joy,
and nothing in his service can be sacrificed, for all is perfect
delight.
I looked
around at the group of people and unlike those in my previous
dream, they did not all appear to be East Indians, but appeared
to be a mix of people from around the world.
That seemed to explain why
she was speaking in different languages. I don’t know why she
told us that she was our mother and I don’t know why she looked
at each person when addressing us. She spoke again in each of
the previous languages that were foreign to me.
However, each time she
spoke in those different languages, I heard English in the
interior of my mind. I heard her say, “Before I leave, I want to
tell each of you what my Father wants the world to know. One
need not leave the earth to find the truth, one need not leave
the life to find his soul, and one need not abandon the world or
have only limited beliefs to enter into a relationship with the
divine. The divine is everywhere, in everything and if He is
hidden, it is because we do not take the trouble to discover
Him.”
She looked at each person
in the group and then I felt her look directly at me. In that
instant, she seemed to transform right before me. The years of
decrepitude melted away and she appeared to be a very attractive
young woman in her twenties, with dark hair and large dark eyes
that were a bit luminous and her full lips smiled compassion and
love.
She said, “Please… always
remember what you have heard here today.” I felt my non-ordinary
self vibrate and in an instant was rushed back into my ordinary
body. This caused me to jolt upright in my bunk. In the
semi-darkness, I looked around and saw all of the other bunks
and my fellow recruits sleeping. Some of them were whimpering or
moaning in their sleep from who knows what hellish or erotic
dream. Years later, a few of my mentors gave me their theories
about this incredible experience.
CLICK HERE TO BUY ADVENTURES IN MARINE BIOLOGY NOW!!
Homepage |
