The WAR on Consciousness

Graham Hancock's "War on Consciousness presentation on TED TV.

To learn more about Graham, check out his website:

http://www.grahamhancock.com/

The Hero's Journey: Inspiration for the RISE Philosophy

It's Time...

          The Last several months have been a constant morphic playground.  My perception of reality and how I walk through it is constantly fluctuating.  I’ve had a hard time grounding myself.  Its as if I have been spinning…out of control and with no barring of the horizon point.  Over come by fear and desperate for equilibrium, I lose more of a sense of a center.  My muscles tense up as I flail, pathetically gripping for control.

            What the hell am I doing here? Where am I suppose go now and how in the hell do I get there?  They are just a few of the many questions that invade my piece of mind.  A shift has been rising within me, with emotions that were so intense I’ve had no choice but to unravel.  Everything is crumbling around me, or so my ego perceives. The desperation leaves me with a bitterness that is unfounded.  Sadness, depression, anger seem to swell building a tremendous pressure.  The more I fight, the mightier the struggle endures.

                                                                                    …and then…

                        …snap…

            Have I snapped?  All the signs are there.  The build up seems to fit the profile.  Why does it all seem so different?  Where is the catastrophe and the seismic wake that usually leaves my psyche in ruin?

             Within these last months, I have been the victim of borderline masochisms through workload and self imposed exile.  I buried myself over my own vision and desires.  I forgot all about the freedom of intention and set a course for a methodical plan with absolutely no room for adaptation.  I engineered in my mind a plan of attack, so meticulous that every step was essential.  With it, I added task after task, until I became so overwhelmed, the very thought of my work load left me paralyzed.

            As the pressure I built expanded beyond my ability to contain, I made a decision.  Within two simple words I found my salvation.  “Fuck It.”  I let go.  The frustration and manipulation is way to much for me.  There was no need to control any of this.  All it has done is bring avoidable discomfort.  I have no idea where I am going.  I have no idea how I am going to get there, but…Fuck It, its all good.

            It’s time to take a load off, and to enjoy the world that my feet tread upon.  This can be done while accomplishing a passion that may be greater than who I am.  I know my intention, and I also realize that it will take a will to see it through.  Who cares what it looks like.  I’m tired of holding that weight.  I’m letting it go.  As long as I do what I do, I will get to where I need to be.

            Through formation of my spiritual discipline, exercise, curiosity, and fun I am learning more about the ever changing complexity that is me.  Why be attached and add more stress then already exists by merely existing.  The tao, or the universal flow, move accordingly.  Why fight against the current.  I don’t see cowardice in surrender.  Sure, there may be a giant waterfall awaiting my demise.  For better or worse, through tragedy and triumph, I seek to enjoy what I flow through.  I give up. I give up not on a dream, but on the doctoral perception to control the entire scheme.  

Without Return

            It’s been six months since the tour has ended and five months since I have been home.  Without wasting a moment, I hit the ground running.  The first morning I woke up back in my own bed, I was off.  Made breakfast, grabbed my bike and set sail in search of a job.  I had been in touch with old work associates and bosses from the days with the city.  It wasn’t what I wanted to go back to.  Our hope was to raise enough money on the road to work on the film and books for at least half the year.  That didn’t happen, obviously.  RISE made just enough to complete the tour and get us back home-with a tiny bit of change left over.  Despite my pre-tour feeling, going back to the city was a safe bet. 

            Safe bets aren’t always the right way…then again, is there a right way?  Some presume.  These days, I don’t want to be one of those people.  The tour taught me that much.   Homecoming was interesting.  It drudged up a lot of emotional content that was very much apart of the shadow side of my ego.   What I mean was, the victim aspect of said ego was quit disappointed in turn out.  I know, poor little me, always the victim.  In truth, the people that I shared space with in the two weeks after my arrival were the ones I was supposed to spend time with.  Now, I’m not saying it was preordained, but life is one big divine sonnet being sung into existence.    

            Truth be told, the only thing to be expected was that life would be different.  Of course I changed while out on the road, but so did everyone else.  Did I really believe that people looked at me as some kind of hero, anticipating my return with the intention for a grand parade?  Get real.  No one cares.  I was just a man living my life.  All those I left behind, well, that’s all they were doing.   I can’t speak for anyone else, and I don’t want to be the asshole assuming.  I’ve played that part before, and I’m sure I’ll do it again; today, I chose a different role.  I’ll just tell you about Thomas Brown, and the man who returned home to phoenix.

            People ask me, “How was the tour?”  To be honest, answering that question is the most difficult task in the process of the journey.   How do I explain it?  How do I emote how the experience has changed me?  At this space and time, it seems much too impossible of a feat to attempt.  So I stare blankly at people, while fumbling over my words. It’s frustrating, because I do want to share.  I need to share.  I don’t want to wait for a probable future speaking engagement.  I don’t want to wait to put it into a book that someone may or may not read.  I want to share its personal truth with the people I know. 

            It is because of this inability to share, that I must admit, has created a dramatic disconnect between what I have known as friends and myself.  I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there is this intensity that continues to flow through me.  The world that I walk through, the world that I see is completely different from the world I knew on Saturday, February 25^th, 2012.  The answer is simple, the world I walk through…the world I see…it is different, simply, because I am different.

            I recently spoke with a friend I met while on the road.  Stephanie Sammuels, our New Jersey Jewish mother, and now the patron saint of RISE travelers, filled me in on her perspective of who Thomas seems to be.  She told me, while I was staying with her and her family, that I had that 100-yard stare.  Though physically present, and polite, I was detached and focused.   Being thankful for the grace given to us by The Sammuels clan, yet not allowing myself to get to close.  The mission was still at hand.  I suppose she was right, and is still very correct.  I feel that demeanor is still very much a part of me.

            Somewhere, deep in my core, the road is still with me…the mission is still beating within me.  As I went dormant after my return in terms of RISE, it seems the dragon has awoke from its slumber.  I do have a mission; it is a mission without end.  It is a mission that may just be a lifestyle.  There is a path that I have ignored for far too long.  It is the path, my soul yearns for, but my ego has been too frightened to walk.  Frightened, because it is a path that will contain extreme moments of solitude. 

            This path was introduced to me when Marc died, but I lacked the courage to step away from the life I knew, no matter how toxic it was for me.   The road I walk is one of self reflection.  It is a path of humility and spiritual renewal.  It is no way a place of perfection or mastery; but a place eternal exploration and evolution.  Though I have an outline of the process, I understand the need for malleable flexibility.  RISE was the doorway to returning to this path that I ignored eleven years ago.  It is beyond the concept of suicide.  Suicide is just the symptom of a greater problem.  My path will run parallel with that larger issue.

            There is no projected outcome; there are only levels of growth.  Like a fractal, there is no true beginning as well as no end.  I don’t expect anyone to understand.  This blog post isn’t meant to lift a veil.  I’m not here to be a wise teacher.  My purpose is to play a part in the great drama of existence.  Anyone that may learn or be inspired through witnessing me, do with it what you will.  I promise to do the same.  I walk through this world as an equal to all I encounter.  I walk with purpose.  I walk to be a part of something great than I am, as I walk as myself.  No matter what happens tomorrow, I will walk…with the intention to never stray again.

To Wake Up...

The Road to a Place Once Known as Home

          

           This is my second round with this particular blog.  My first version was pages filled with a play by play of my journey home.  Almost endless content empty of any true power of the abstract that is emotion.  It was apparent to me, that this was no way to convey elements of my road back to Phoenix.  Though there is nothing more that I would rather do than share every thing that I experience on my way back to the land of my birth, it would take far too much time to recite...and to be absorbed.

            As Zak took a four hour flight from Philly to Phoenix, I opted to spend the next month and a half on the road.  I would use this time to reunite with old friends, new friends I found on the road, and to reflect on what I have just put myself through.  I was still riding the high of both finishing the RISE tour and meeting Sharon at COSM;  I was filled with a nameless emotion...an overpowering buzz.  I couldn't define it...I couldn't contain it.   I was a beautiful mess of joy and curious uncertainty.

            Adding to the intensity of overwhelming vibration, my first stop on my road back to Phoenix was Algonquin, IL.  My intention was to meet with two old friends of my brother, Jessica & Joe Buccheri.  Though he didn't know my brother for a long time, Joe and Marc's friendship grew fast and with great depth.  The two might as well been siblings...there love and respect for each other was apparent.  The two men entered one another's life during a time of great upheaval and transition.  On the surface it seems that Joe was the one who made it through the fires of his crucible.  Arriving at Joes that first evening was another act of cosmic poetry written in the stars.

            I spent three days in Algonquin.  Joe and I shared stories of the past eleven years.  We talked about Marc, Joe talked about the passing of his father, and of course...I had many moments from the RISE tour to speak about.  In our conversations I told joe how Marc and I grew up on Chicago Cubs baseball.  To help me pay tribute to Marc, Joe suggested we take a tour at Wrigley Field.  Doing so gave us the opportunity to spread some of Marc's ashes at the legendary ball park together. Spending that time with Joe and Jessica just after the tour was a precious gift I will always be grateful for.

            My journey after leaving Illinois was saturated in the unnamable emotion.  An exhausting and exuberayting feeling that overwhelmed the senses.  I continued on revisiting new friends that I made along my travels.  In Atlanta, I reunited with Haya (my soul sister from COSM) and Iris Bolton (one of the founders of suicide support group).  Iris invited me over for a discussion and to participate in one of her drum healing sessions. 

            After 20 minutes of sitting under her grandfather drum while she played, i had a spectacular feeling of my consciousness being dramatically altered.  Iris, and her work, has been a major inspiration for me.  She was the only individual who has integrated ancient wisdom traditions into the subject of suicide and depression.  since my time with her, I have had the pull to walk the same path she started over twenty years ago.  The first step on that road leads one to the core of their personal being.

            As I continued along my way, I connected with other great friends and supporters of the RISE tour: Raela Marie Villanueva in Pensacola, Frank Campbell (another pioneer in working with suicide survivors) in Baton Rouge, LA,  Marian Trattner & Jessica Tartaro of Austin, TX, and the wild roundtrip mini journey to be a part of Zak's wedding in Denver.  Each person I revisited help bring a new level of understanding in the wake as RISE passed through.  It was the beginning of journeying inwards.  As the road to Phoenix intensified with emotion, I was supported with a friendly reinforcement...Shawn Daukarus was heading to Austin to travel the final 15 days with me.

            A long time friend from film school, and philosophical kindred spirit, Shawn  flew out to Austin to help my decompression back into the world after tour.  In many ways he has continued to do so.  Once we arrived in Norman, OK to stay with my family, Terri and Tinker Owens;  I would not only reconnect with my family, but begin my Tai Chi and Qi Gong training with Shawn.  Despite Shawn's caution, I was ill prepared for the door I was opening within my own heart.  After the first lesson, I was already beginning to feel energized.  By my fifth lesson,  I found myself breaking down emotionally mid session. 

            Shawn would tell you that once one begins to move energy or chi more fluidly through their body, emotional energy begins to rise up to the surface.    I'm still a beginner, both in practice and philosophy, but I can vouch for his sentiment.  I am still learning how to pay attention to those feelings that pop arise when in practice.  As the two of us continued to travel west, I felt as if I was being unraveled, only to be rewound.  Who I was before the tour seemed hidden, underneath the veneer of what I experience during the tour, and what I had gone through on the road to Phoenix.

            Originally the plan before returning to Phoenix, was to make one last stop at the Golden Gate Bridge.  For me, it was significant in ending a journey like RISE at the place where we began.  Return I did, but as plans do, they changed.  I had made contact with an old friend who now lives near Huntington Beach, CA.  i made contact with Nicole Nelson, my friend and a woman who dated my brother, back when I was passing through Chicago.  The last time I saw her was at my brothers funeral.  Though she was a friend from childhood, and I hold many memories of time spent together, the last image I have of her face is one of pain and sorrow.

            Shawn was witness to our first interaction in eleven years.  I can only imagine what his perception of that moment was.  From my vantage point, we looked like two dumbfounded friends who forgot how to communicate.  We just stared, smiled at one another, and repeated, "I can't believe you are standing here."  There was a sad beauty that intertwined us together in the moment.  Meeting with Nicole on that final night of tour after seven months held a poetic gesture of rightful purpose.  As it is in life, the two of us had undergone so much radical change over the past decade.  Besides the love we both had for Marc, our evolution has taken to a similar state of awareness.

            Nicole and I shared a similar conscious weirdness.  Not really weird for us, but for those that accept life as it is without much mystery, Nicole and I are most certainly out on the boarders of fringe territory.  To help you further understand, both Nicole & I in our own way, and for our own reason's, had set out on a spiritual path in order to expand our understanding of who we are.   A master author couldn't have written a better ending to the RISE tale.   As it was in the beginning, providence had a role in the end.  Spending that last evening of life on the road with Nicole was a gift far greater than what I could have planned or hoped for.

            To simply reconnect with each other, the three of us walked to a local spot for dinner.  We ate, had a few drinks and inspired many laughs through expressing our stories.   After dinner Nicole and I took our own journey.  We walked along the water and connected more through conversation.  After an hour we decided to rest at a small dock.  I invited Nicole to help with the spreading of some of Marc's ashes.  Agreeing, I put some of the ashes in her hand.  We sat in silence, as Nicole meditated and offered positive intention into those ashes and moment.  Before she cast them into the ocean water, she turned to me; with tears in her eyes, she thanked me.

            The road to a place once known as home...this statement isn't to say that Phoenix isn't my home, it always will be.  The journey after the RISE tour was just as life changing, and sense I left Arizona, I feel that I have died and been reborn several times.  I can tell you that this blog has done zero justice to express to you what I really experienced.  For that short coming, I'm sorry.  The story of RISE is not over, it is always in process.  It is just another journey within the journey of being.  When the journey needs to express itself...it will.  For those that share the road with me, even for moments...thank you.