To learn more about Graham, check out his website:
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Thursday, June 6, 2013
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.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
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 25th, 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.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
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.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
My Heart is Her Drum Machine
The RISE bicycle tour has come to an end. Within the journey I have been blessed
with the grace of others and experienced things far greater than what I could
have imagines. I have travelled
through seemingly endless terrain that was a beautiful as it is diverse. Zak and I engaged in countless
heartfelt conversations with hundreds, if not thousands of people. Our stay at COSM couldn’t have been
more than the perfection it was.
Still eclipsing all that transpired, or more importantly, adding to the
tour as a whole, was the chance to meet a truly enchanting soul: Sharon
Stelluto, the Hospitality Manager at COSM.
I
have to tip my hat and show my greatest appreciation and gratitude to Brad
Burge of M.A.P.S. (The Multidisciplinary Association of Psychedelic Studies)
who was the gatekeeper that introduced us to COSM via Allyson Grey. Without his support and willingness to
vouch for us, things might have ended differently. No need to invent imaginary scenarios. Things happened just as they were meant
to. After a few interactions with
Allyson by way of email, she connected me with Sharon to continue a dialog and
updates as Zak and I travelled across the country.
We
didn’t talk much, perhaps once a month or every three weeks; every
communication was very professional and to the point. Before we entered Manhattan, I emailed Sharon, expressing my
desire to talk with her on the phone and discuss our arrival on the final day
of tour, as we have done this with all our contacts. In my mind, it was a conversation that should only take five
to ten minutes. When we did
finally talk, we did only spend that five to ten minutes talking about our
arrival, but for the next hour or hour and a half we just talked. The conversation didn’t even begin till
after 6pm at night. I was in the
room given to me for my stay in Manhattan, and she was still in the COSM office
building.
By the time we decided to end the
conversation and go back to our separate worlds, I was dumbfounded. I didn’t want to hang up. I wanted to continue to talk to her and
learn more about who Sharon is.
She was so easy to talk to…so familiar. During the remainder of my time in Manhattan and Sparkill, I
found my thoughts drifting more and more to Sharon. Here I was, at the edge of finishing this monumental
journey, about to ride my bicycle to the visionary community of one of my
inspirations, and all I could think about was this woman who I didn’t
know. We’ll I didn’t know her this
lifetime, that’s for damn sure.
As the final morning arrived, I was
filled with so many mixed emotions.
This is what Zak and I have worked so hard for, for so damn long. I wanted to hold onto it, yet I knew it
needed to be let go. In the back
of my mind, Sharon was there. As
the day of riding progressed, she moved closer to the forefront of my
mind. Who was this person? Why now, here at the end. It felt like a powerful gravitational
pull, but with no way to explain it’s reason or purpose.
Arriving at COSM, my anticipation
only intensified. Not to be
annoyingly redundant, but who was the woman who belonged to that voice. It was about time to find out. Riding up to the top of the hill, I was
blown away by an unexpected visit.
My mother was flown in by our New Jersey contact, Stephanie
Samuels. As I mentioned in my
previous blog, my mother had been sick and rushed to the hospital not long
before this final day. I had been
extremely worried about her condition and health. To see her there was a shocking and blessed surprise.
As much as I wanted to finally meet
Sharon Stelluto, I was swept away by an emotional tempest. I lost it. I cried so damn hard, my mother walked over to me and embraced
me. And we stood there and just hugged.
I know how special this journey Zak and I embarked on was for her, as it
was for so many. Crying like a
little baby who wants her/his binky in front of a woman that has captivated you
is usually a resounding “NO NO” in the unwritten rule of Man Code. Sharon was witness to this powerful
moment between mother and son, a moment I was grateful to have shared with her.
After the family departed, allowing
Zak and I a tour of COSM by Sharon, I couldn’t help but feel so comfortable in
her presence. Sharing space with
her and talking felt so familiar, as if we had known each other for years. This was surprising, and frustrating,
as my time at COSM continued, ifelt as if the hospitality manager was avoiding
me. It was a paradoxical scenario,
unless I was reading her wrong, I wasn’t getting an uneasy creepy vibe. Quit the contrary, she expressed in her
smile and body language, that she enjoyed my presence just as much as I enjoyed
hers. Still, she was elusive. Come
to find, there was a reason for her conflicting behavior, but that explanation
is for another time and medium.
During the time that I did spend
with Sharon, I discovered that she is a phenomenal painter. Go figure…she does work at COSM after
all. In the dining hall is a
beautiful painting of a rose that I wanted to take home. As soon as I discovered it was hers, I
knew I had a way to pull out my creeper card and get the extra time I wanted
with her…to talk. I asked Sharon
if she would be up for an interview for our RISE tour documentary. We could discuss COSM, our arrival from
her point of view, and her passion for painting. To my delight, she agreed to the interview.
During the interview, I couldn’t
help but be an open book to her.
Not so much with words, but with my energy. I guess it showed too.
Later she told me I she could see what I was feeling just by the way I
was looking at her. I couldn’t
help myself. In such a short
order, and without knowing…I was smitten by this woman. After the interview, I
gave her my RISE necklace. I had
been wearing the necklace since Austin.
I must admit, I gave the necklace I started with to someone who also
made an impact on me, but this was different. This necklace was saturated in a deep development of my
personal transformation, and when I gave it to her, it was like giving her a
very powerful piece of myself. We
then shared in a very long hug that I did not want to part from.
Before Zak and I left, Sharon and
Haya (another COSM homie/my spiritual sista from anotha motha) joined us in our
RISE tradition…the scattering of Marc’s ashes. Sharon helped me with a picture that I have taken in so many
places across this country. With
some of Marc’s ashes in my hand, I held them up to the sculpture “Altered
States” the future site for The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors. I circled the sculpture as I scattered
the ashes. Besides Zak, there have
only been three others that have shared that space with me the entire way. Having Sharon there to act as witness…once
again made this final tour scattering so much more beautiful and relevant.
The four of us (Sharon, Haya, Zak,
& I) said our goodbyes as we parted ways. Zak and I had to head to East Stroudsburg, PA to speak at
the University the next day.
Though we had to, I didn’t want to leave. I hadn’t spent enough time with her; I wanted to know more
about that pull. As we headed down
the driveway, I was left aching feeling…as if I was being torn from my home
without consent. The morning after
our speaking engagement at East Stroudsburg University, Zak and I parted
ways. He was heading to Philly to
catch a flight back to phoenix, and I was heading to Illinois to visit an old
friend. Still thinking about my
short lived time with Sharon, driving through the state of Pennsylvania, the
universe it seems, did not want me to forget.
For One Hundred and Fifty miles,
every five to seven miles, the mile signs were speaking to me. As I traveled further away from the
wonderful Hospitality Manger of COSM, I was wandering closer to the small town
of Sharon, PA. It was one of those
synchronistic gut punches that demand your attention. Over and over again, her name was thrown into my face. It’s as if she was calling out to
me. I couldn’t resist any
longer. If I didn’t have a
schedule to keep, I would have turned around. I didn’t, but I’d be damned if I was gonna ignore this
pull. I was gonna investigate
this…I needed to.
A lot of people like to talk about
the concept of logic. I sure am
one to espouse the comfort of such rational thought. If it is one thing I learned from the tour, one true and
honest universal truth…is that paradox rules supreme. Like everything else, logic is relative. I’m sure there are many, who will
disagree, but like paradox, they are both correct and incorrect…just depends on
the vantage point. I know,
sometimes I sound like a dog chasing my tail (wait…sounds?).
Sharon lives 2,510 miles from me,
door to door. Where is the logic
in sustaining an intimate relationship in that situation? Then again, where is the logic in quitting
my job in the midst of a terrible economy to ride a bicycle over 7,000 miles
with only %5 of the budget secured?
Traveling across this country at the pace of a bicycle reminded me of
the magical power of will. The
human spirit is an amazing thing, with infinite potential. I’m not going to sit here and convey in
type that I know what is meant for Sharon and I. All I do know, there is a magic between us. Each day is another chance to learn
from one other.
Since I have left COSM, we have
continued in discovering the potential of our connection via, facebook, phone,
and skype. We have already had one
visit, and are looking forward to more.
All we have is that sacred moment that is the big “NOW”. Sure we have intentions, hopes, and
desires; still, there is no promise of a future. We take it day by day, and learn what we can with the tools
at our disposal. I know one thing
is for sure…Sharon Stelluto sets me ablaze in dramatic fashion. I have never met anyone quit like
her. I don’t know what is down the
road for the two of us, but we have an intention. In this moment, we walk with respect, compassion, and a
willingness to explore and understand.
I look with great anticipation where this road will lead us without
judgment or attachment. I am
eternally grateful to have entered her life, as she has entered mine. What ever comes next…well, we will have
to live and see.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
GIVE EM HELL
The hackivist group Anonymous has been so kind as to leak the personal contact information of Westboro Church members.
With a special thanks to Vets Against the WBC.Thank you #anonymous #OPWestboro Membership List. updated October 22, 2012.
Westboro Baptist Church
3701 SW 12th St
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-273-0325
Email: wbclist@speakfree.net
Email: info@phelpschartered.com
Email: chockenbarger@cox.net
http://www.godhatesfags.com/
Phelps Law Firm
Phelps Chartered
1414 SW Topeka Boulevard
Topeka, KS 66612
PO Box 1886
Topeka, KS 66601
Phone: 785-233-4162
Fax: 785-233-0766
Fax: 785-969-9017
Email: info@phelpschartered.com
Email: slpr@cox.net
Email: kjhoffice@speakfree.net
http://www.phelpschartered.com/
============================================================================================
— Abigail Phelps
Lawyer
Employee at SRS – Kansas Juvenile Justice Authority
Born 1968
Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
3636 SW Churchill
Topeka, KS 66604
Email: bgail@speakfree.net
Home: 785-273-7262
work: 785-296-7709
— Barak Phelps-Davis
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Son of Rebekah Phelps-Davis
— Benaiah Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Son of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps
— Benjamin C. Phelps
Born 1976
Son of Fred W. Phelps, Jr
Wife of Mara Jones-Phelps
3632 SW Churchill
Topeka, KS 66604
3636 SW Huntoon St
Topeka, KS 66604
Email: idontreadthisemail@godhatesamerica.com
Phone: 785-228-9239
Home: 785-233-4162
Phone: 785-228-9239
Phone: 785-273-0277
Phone: 785-273-1080
— Betty Joan Schurle-Phelps
Lawyer at Phelps Chartered
Born 1952
Wife of Fred W. Phelps, Jr
3600 SW Holly Lane
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-273-0438
Home: 785-272-4135
Work: 785-296-3195
— Brent D. Roper-Phelps
Human Resources Lawyer for NAIC
Employee at Foot Locker
Born 1963
Husband of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
3640 SW Churchill
Topeka, KS 66604
3636 SW Churchill
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-273-0277
Phone: 785-273-7262
Phone: 785-273-1080
Phone: 785-273-3726
Home: 785-273-1445
Home: 785-273-0277
Home: 785-272-1619
Home: 785-273-0325
Home: 785-273-0325
Work: 785-233-4162
Work: 785-273-0068
— Carmen A Phelps
Relative of Daniel F. Phelps
2621 SE Granger St
Topeka, KS 66605
Phone: 785-267-5157
— Caleb Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Son of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps
— Charles F. Hockenbarger
Born 1974
Son of Karl D. Hockenbarger
Husband of Rachel I. Phelps-Hockenbarger
1284 SW Hillsdale
Topeka, KS 66604
3220 SW 17th St
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-232-1570
Phone: 785-232-2485
Home: 785-271-1619
Work: 785-273-0325
— Charles William “Bill” Hockenbarger
Member of Christian Identity
Born 1953
Husband of Mary Hockenbarger
711 NW Page
Topeka, KS 66617
3600 SW Holly Ln
Topeka, KS 66604
Email: chockenbarger@cox.net
Phone: 785-272-8569
Phone: 785-232-2485
Home: 785-246-1567
Work: 785-273-0325
Fax: 785-233-4162
— Chris Davis-Phelps
Born 1955
Husband of Rebekah Phelps-Davis
1216 SW Cambridge
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-272-7035
Home: 785-272-7741
— Daniel F. Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Son of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps
2621 SE Granger St
Topeka, KS 66605
Phone: 785-267-5157
— Danielle Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Daughter of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps
3119 SW Randolph Ave #204
Topeka, KS 66611
Phone: 785-267-3253
— David Hockenbarger
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Karl D. Hockenbarger
— Davis R. Phelps
Relative of Chris Davis-Phelps
1216 SW Cambridge Ave
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-272-7741
Phone: 785-272-7035
— Deborah Kay Hockenbarger
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Wife of Karl D. Hockenbarger
1929 SW Lane
Topeka, KS 66604
Home: 913-233-1848
Work: 785-296-3959
— Deborah Phelps-Davis
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Daughter of Rebekah Phelps-Davis
— Elisha Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Daughter of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps
— Elizabeth “Libby” Phelps
Born ~ 1982-3-4
Daughter of Fred W. Phelps, Jr
2001 SW 2nd Street
Topeka, KS 66606
Home: 785-234-9694
Work: 785-233-0822
— Elizabeth Marie Phelps
Born 1962
Lawyer at Phelps Chartered
Manager at Sheltered Living, Inc
Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
2001 SW 2nd Street
Topeka, KS 66606
Home: 785-234-9694
Work: 785-233-0822
— Fred W. Phelps, Jr
Lawyer at Phelps Chartered
Staff Attorney for Kansas Department of Corrections
Born 1953
Son of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
Wife of Betty Joan Schurle-Phelps
3600 SW Holly Lane
Topeka, KS 66604
Email: fredjr@godhatesfags.com
Phone: 785-273-0438
Home: 785-273-0529
Work: 785-296-3195
— Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
Founder of Westboro Baptist Church
Pastor of Westboro Baptist Church
Born 1929
Husband of Margerie “Margie” M. Simms
Westboro Baptist Church
3791 SW 12th Street
Topeka, KS 66604
Po Box 1886
Topeka, KS 66601
Email: wbclist@speakfree.net
Email: info@phelpschartered.com
Phone: 785-272-4135
Phone: 785-273-0325
Phone: 785-273-0338
Fax: 785-273-9228
— Gabriel Phelps-Roper
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
— George Stutzman
Born ~ 1950′s/1960′s
Fiance of Taylor Drain
— Gideon Hockenbarger
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Son of Charles F. Hockenbarger
Son of Rachel I. Phelps Hockenbarger
— Grace Phelps-Roper
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Daughter of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
— Hezekiah Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Son of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps
— Isaiah Phelps-Roper
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
— Jack Wu
Born ~ 1982-83-84
Westboro Baptist Member
12400 W 161st St
Olathe, KS 66062
Home: 913-897-0607
— Jacob M. Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Jonathan Baxter Phelps
— Jacob Z. Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Fred W. Phelps, Jr
— Jael Phelps
Nursing Student
Born ~ 1984-5-6
Daughter of Jonathan Baxter Phelps
— James Hockenbarger
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Karl D. Hockenbarger
1929 SW Lane
Topeka, KS 66604
Home: 913-233-1848
Work: 785-296-3959
— Jennifer Hockenbarger
Born 1977
Daughter of Karl D. Hockenbarger
Wife of Samuel Phelps-Roper
1929 SW Lane
Topeka, KS 66604
Home: 913-233-1848
Work: 785-296-3959
— Jonah Phelps-Roper
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
— Jonathan Baxter Phelps
Lawyer at Phelps Chartered
Son of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
Husband of Paulette Phelps-Ossiander
Born 1959
840 SW Watson
Topeka, KS 66606
Work: 785-233-4162
— Joseph Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Jonathan Baxter Phelps
— Joshua F. Phelps-Roper
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
— Joshua M. Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Jonathan Baxter Phelps
— Josaiah Hockenbarger
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Son of Charles F. Hockenbarger
Son of Rachel I. Phelps Hockenbarger
— Karl D. Hockenbarger
Member of Christian Identity
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Charles William “Bill” Hockenbarger
Husband of Deborah Kay Hockenbarger
1929 SW Lane
Topeka, KS 66604
Home: 913-233-1848
Work: 785-296-3959
— Katherine Hockenbarger
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Daughter of Karl D. Hockenbarger
3642 SW Huntoon St
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-783-7217
— Lauren Drain
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Daughter of Stephen “Steve” Drain
— LeAnn Phelps-Brown
Lawyer
Employee of Shawnee County Sheriff’s Department
Born 1966
Wife of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps
3743 SW 12th Street
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-273-0365
Home: 785-273-4780
Work: 785-291-5100
Work: 785-233-4162
— Luci Drain
Born ~ 1950′s
Daughter of Stephen “Steve” Drain
— Luke Phelps-Roper
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
— Lydia Phelps-Davis
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Daughter of Rebekah Phelps-Davis
— Malachai Phelps
Born 2005
Great-Grandson of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
— Mara Jones-Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Wife of Fred W. Phelps, Jr
3120 SW Westover Rd
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-235-6999
— Margerie “Margie” Marie Simms-Phelps
Born ~ 1930′s
Wife of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
Westboro Baptist Church
3701 SW 12th Street
Topeka, KS 66604
Email: wbclist@speakfree.net
Email: info@phelpschartered.com
Phone: 785-273-0325
Phone: 785-273-0338
Fax: 785-273-9228
— Margie Jean Phelps
Lawyer at Phelps Chartered
Employee of Kansas Department of Corrections
Born 1956
Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
3734 SW 12th
Topeka, KS 66604
Landon State Office Building 900
Topeka, KS 66612
Email: margiep77@cox.net
Phone: 785-273-0365
Home: 785-273-7380
Work: 785-296-3128
Work: 785-296-3317
— Margy “Margie”/”Megan” Phelps-Roper
Born ~ 1985-6-7
Daughter of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
— Mary Hockenbarger
Child Care Provider
Born ~ 1950′s
Wife of Charles William “Bill” Hockenbarger
711 NW Page
Topeka, KS 66617
Email: chockenbarger@cox.net
Home: 785-246-1567
— Micaiah Phelps-Davis
Born ~ 1991-2-3
Son of Rebekah Phelps-Davis
— Noah Phelps-Roper
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
— Paulette Phelps-Ossiander
Office Assistant at Phelps Chartered
Born 1960
Wife of Jonathan Baxter Phelps
840 SW Watson
Topeka, KS 66606
Work: 785-233-4162
— Rachel Hockenbarger
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Daughter of Charles F. Hockenbarger
Daughter of Rachel I. Phelps Hockenbarger
3600 SW Holly Ln
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-272-8569
Phone: 785-272-8559
— Rachel I. Phelps-Hockenbarger
Lawyer at Phelps Chartered
YMCA Fitness Instructor
Born 1965
Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
Wife of Charles F. Hockenbarger
1284 SW Hillsdale
Topeka, KS 66604
3734 SW 12th St
Topeka, KS 66604
1216 SW Cambridge Ave
Topeka, KS 66604
3220 SW 17th St
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-232-1570
Phone: 785-273-0365
Phone: 785-272-7035
Home: 785-271-1619
— Rebekah Phelps-Davis
Lawyer at Phelps Chartered
Born 1961
Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
Wife of Chris Davis
1216 SW Cambridge
Topeka, KS 66604
Home: 785-272-7741
— Rebekah Phelps-Roper
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Daughter of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
1205 SW Polk St #5B
Topeka, KS 66612
Phone: 785-783-3722
— Samuel Phelps-Roper
Born 1979
Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
Husband of Jennifer Hockenbarger
3640 SW Churchill
Topeka, KS 66604
3708 SW Churchill
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-228-9287
Phone: 785-273-1080
Home: 785-273-1445
Home: 785-273-0277
Home: 785-272-1619
Home: 785-273-0325
Home: 785-273-0277
Home: 785-273-0325
Work: 785-233-4162
Work: 785-273-0068
— Sara Phelps
Born ~ 1980-1-2
Daughter of Fred W. Phelps, Jr
3600 SW Holly Ln
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-0273-0438
— Seth Phelps
Born ~ 2003-4-5
Great-Grandson of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
— Sharon M. Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Grand-Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
4128 SW 6th Ave #308
Topeka, KS 66606
Phone: 785-228-9323
— Shirley Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Daughter of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps
— Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
Lawyer at Phelps Chartered
Born Oct. 10, 1957
Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
Wife of Brent D. Roper
3640 SW Churchilll
Topeka, KS 66604
Email: slpr@cox.net
Email: kjhoffice@speakfree.net
Email: th8asluf@godhatesamerica.com
Email: brid1611kjv@bellsouth.net
Email: info@phelpschartered.com
Phone: 785-273-1080
Phone: 785-272-8559
Home: 785-273-1445
Home: 785-273-0277
Home: 785-272-1619
Home: 785-273-0325
Home: 785-273-0277
Home: 785-273-0325
Work: 785-233-4162
Work: 785-273-0068
— Stephen “Steve” Drain
Born ~ 1950′s
Husband of Luci Drain
3801 SW 12th St
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-228-1623
— Stephen Hockenbarger
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Son of Charles F. Hockenbarger
Son of Rachel I. Phelps Hockenbarger
— Taylor Drain
Born ~ 1991-2-3
Daughter of Stephen “Steve” Drain
Fiance of George Stutzman
— Theresa Davis
Born ~ 1950′s/1960′s
Family Member of Chris Davis
3632 SW 12th Street
Topeka, KS 66604
Work: 785-291-7000
— Timothy “Tim”/”Timmy” B. Phelps
Lawyer
Employee of Shawnee County Department of Corrections
Born 1963
Son of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr
Husband of LeAnn Phelps-Brown
3743 SW 12th Street
Topeka, KS 66604
Phone: 785-273-0365
Home: 785-273-4780
Work: 785-291-5100
Work: 785-233-4162
— Timothy Phelps Jr
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Son of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps
— Victoria Phelps
Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s
Daughter of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps
— Zacharias Phelps-Roper
Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s
Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper
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Westboro Baptist Church
PO BOX 1886
Topeka, KS 66601-1886
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785-233-4162
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Administrative Contact:
Phelps, Benjamin idontreadthisemail@godhatesamerica.com
PO BOX 1886
Topeka, KS 66601-1886
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Expires on: 17-Apr-13
Last Updated on: 16-Jul-11
Registrant:
Phelps-Chartered
1414 S. Topeka Blvd.
Topeka, Kansas 66612
United States
Administrative Contact:
Phelps-Roper, Shirley kjhoffice@speakfree.net
Phelps-Chartered
1414 S. Topeka Blvd.
Topeka, Kansas 66612
United States
7852334162
Technical Contact:
Phelps-Roper, Shirley kjhoffice@speakfree.net
Phelps-Chartered
1414 S. Topeka Blvd.
Topeka, Kansas 66612
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Port 80/Port 23 vulnerability
@JackHerer20
Saturday, December 15, 2012
4 8 15 16 23 42: COSM is the Island
I know…it’s been a long time since
I’ve posted anything written. I
meant to get this out shortly after leaving COSM, but the gravity in ending the
tour and the road home was a dramatic fall into mental entropy. A more in depth blog on that journey
will…should be posted at a later time.
And now…COSM!
The Arrival
It could’ve been labeled a day like
any other. I’m sure for many it
was, but for me, there was nothing usual about this seemingly typical day. It was the final day of riding on the
RISE bicycle tour…it was the Day that we arrive at The Chapel of Sacred
Mirrors…It was journeys end. Like
that first day of tour seven months earlier, the morning was charged with a
palpable energy. Still, the
setting was very different. We had
a bright and sunny day hanging over our heads. The air was cool with a subtly warm overtone. No rain or wind to slow us down. The weight of the road ahead was now
nothing more than a memory of those who lead our way to this moment…our final
push. Thirteen months of
preparation and seven months of a nomadic life had lead to this last day.
Though Zak and I have travelled
this path on our bicycles alone, we were never truly by ourselves. This day was no different. Driving all the way from Piscataway, NJ
was Officer Crisafulli & Detective Ritter, who would escort us for the
final 50 miles of our 7,000 mile journey.
We have Stephanie Samuels, our New Jersey mother (and therapist) to
thank for this support. We set off
from Sparkill, NY where we spent a few days with Kit Lucas, one of the first
survivors of suicide to write a book on the subject. Crisafulli & Ritter followed behind as Zak and I took
turns riding and driving the support vehicle. Once we were 15 miles out, Det. Ritter took over driving the
truck so that Zak and I could end side by side.
As we arrived at the front end of
the property we took time to take pictures at the entrance sign of COSM. Once we finished, Crisafulli &
Ritter headed up the hill giving us those final 200 yards to ourselves. Zak allowed me to set the tone, which
was even slower than my standard turtle pace. As we approached, Standing at the last bend was Stephanie’s
two daughters waving signs. Once
we passed them, I saw two people at a distance I couldn’t place. Probably due to the sad truth that I
need glasses. Closer I realized it
was my Uncle Roger and Aunt Dorothy from Hornell, NY. The first words that popped out of my mouth…”What the Fuck?” I was glad to see them, but how are
they here.
Reaching the end atop the hill on
the property of COSM, I scanned the small group of folk who massed: Stephanie and her family, Officer
Crisafulli & Detective Ritter, Zak’s fiancée Brandalyn (Another what the
fuck moment in my mind), Sharon the hospitality manager of COSM, and my mother
(a monumental Holy Fuck moment).
Now Sharon has a beautiful interpretation as a witness of this entire
moment, all I have is a feeling.
I’ll do my best to describe.
The best way to poetically express
how I reacted to seeing my mother, simply put…I lost my shit. I went from an exhausted excitement to
utter surprise and emotional breakdown.
A month earlier, my mother was in the hospital for an exploratory
surgery due to health complications.
It was three weeks before she was strong enough to leave the house. My father was so distraught that I had
to send my friend Shawn to get clearer information for me. My biggest fear since Marc has died has
been the frightening realization that I will have to burry my parents without
my big brother. Seeing my Mother
knowing she had only been on her feet for a week, released a lot of that fear I
had held for the last month of tour.
Combine that with the intensity of journey’s end, could you blame me for
crying like a schoolgirl who just skinned her knee? Ok, don’t answer that.
Why COSM
Many people ask how we connect
suicide to the healing power of artistic expression. Furthermore, why COSM as journey’s end? Stuffing concepts & philosophies
into a neat little packaged box isn’t a rarity. Art isn’t an acceptation to this culturally oppressive
rule. Most often, when someone
thinks of art, their mind pictures a photograph, painting, poetry, music,
etc. Why stop there, I don’t. To confine a concept or philosophy in a
box of rules is yet another desperate attempt of humanity to control. To control is to segregate and limit
infinite potential on any said concept or philosophy, creating a limitation on Art
and expression is not only unnecessary, it is profane. The human experience is an ever
transforming and evolving masterpiece of art.
Our lives are art in constant
process. We have the ability to
create a life that suites our heart and soul. While we do lack, for the most part, the control of what
comes at us…we do hold the power to control how we react to any given
situation. I’ve heard all
too often, “How does art help me?
I’m not creative.” Maybe
you aren’t a photographer or a painter, but you can at the very least make a
decision about what life you want to live. Can’t you?
If your life was a canvas, then your choices and decisions are your
pallet of colors to play with.
It’s actually surprising that this concept is new, foreign, or vacant
from ones daily thought process.
I can’t take full responsibility of
this philosophy; all I can do is take responsibility for my interpretation and
expressive action of said philosophy.
The primary influence of this concept has been Alex Grey and the work he
is doing with his wife Allyson at The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors (COSM). The day After Christmas in 2007, I
discovered Alex’s book, “The Mission of Art”. The moment I purchased this book, I was completely unaware
of its purpose & power or how it would play in the equation of influence
for my worldview and action. In
this book, Alex talks about the great potential of artistic expression as a
vehicle to making a better world.
He explains how art is an aspect of the divine that we all hold within
us. After time and effort, every
person can cultivate that infinite power.
My brother’s death transformed my
world in a dramatic way, and for a time, I was on a path that only leads to
catastrophe. Alex’s philosophy,
among a few others was the inspiration that shined a light onto the road I now
walk. I couldn’t stop my brother’s
suicide, but I do have the power to allow it to influence me for whatever
purpose I choose. At the very
beginning, with the conception of RISE, COSM was the obvious choice for an
ending to the tour.
The Experience
It’s safe to say, that outside of
Alex, his art, and philosophy, I had no idea what to expect from COSM. I have to admit, I didn’t do my homework
on everything that was being done.
It didn’t matter much.
There was no need to be a blatant fanboy about it all. COSM as an ending point was more about
the symbolism of transcendence via creativity. As I travelled the country, I began to see visions of a
place where people could gather in community. A property that is self sustained, where artists can create
openly, where the wounded can find tools to heal themselves and others. In many ways, COSM has been a
reflection to this vision. Or at least a starting point.
On the day of our arrival, the visionary
permaculture class was ending its week long summer session. Lead by Delvin Solkinson, the Grey’s
are working on making the land which COSM rests on much more sustainable for
energy and food production. The
obviousness of this practice is to illicit more freedom by being a bit more self-reliant. This is essential in any community or
individual harvesting a lifestyle that is more conducive for self sovereignty.
COSM’s hospitality manager, Sharon
Stelluto gave Zak and I a quick tour of the house once our family left…allowing
us to settle in. The house, which
is where guests, volunteers, and staff live, is also the primary site for most
of the COSM events. The building is
a brilliant three story Victorian house.
The main hall acts as a gallery, library, and event venue. The old renovated home is saturated
with faint smell of the forest outside and the wood that is its skin. The floor creaked and cracked with
every step, always announcing ones arrival with a loud declaration.
I had a long conversation with
Sharon once we had arrived to Manhattan, about a week before our arrival to
COSM. We wanted to go over the
final day of our tour and the expectations of our visit. One of the stipulations was to donate
our time at the community with chore duty for a few free nights stay. Sweeping floors, hauling chairs, and
cleaning bathrooms was the least I could do for food and many a good nights
rest at journey’s end. Besides, I
met some amazing & interesting individuals while contributing to the
community, which would continue well into the Full Moon Ceremony on the evening
of September 29th.
Before the Full Moon Ceremony, I
had the pleasure of sitting in on a workshop with a shaman, Rafael Bejarano, a
multi-cultural ritualist, musician, artist & cultural educator. Rafael was masterful at simplifying
EVERYTHING, and doing so with savvy sense of humor. The man electrified me when he spoke. Not that his concepts were anything
new. As it were, I only heard the
whisper of my thoughts repeated back to me. I can’t speak for anyone else in how they experienced
Rafael, but it felt as if every word he uttered was transcript of my mind. The workshop with Rafael was
profound to say the least, he offered an even greater gift to me: during his musical performance of his
teachings, he blessed the remaining ashes of my brother. He placed them at the center of his
alter and played his didgeridoo over them.
With two hundred people crammed
into the main hall, the full moon ceremony began with Alex & Allyson giving
a sermon about the spiritual path that is creative expression. They handed it over to Rafael, who
played more from his hand crafted flutes and didgeridoo. Many Other amazing acts followed
which entertained, informed, and mesmerized the guests in this fantastic
event: readings from a book about
synchronicity to updates on the permaculture class at COSM. The crowd was
blessed with music from folk singers, singing bowl meditation, and participating
in an om session that shook the walls.
RISE was given the last guest spot
and ten minutes to speak with the crowd about our seven month journey. Zak and I didn’t do a pregame talk
about how we were gonna flow. He
arrived with his fiancé and I was still running around helping set up. It didn’t help that we sat on opposites
sides of the room either. The
seven months of speaking engagements was felt. We shared our stories effortlessly and surprisingly were
able to condense our travels to the time allowed and still resonated with
crowed. Once the ceremony was
finished, Zak headed out to spend extra time with his beloved fiancés, and I
stayed back to mingle and partake in the rest of the full moon festivities. The evening ended with those remaining
meeting in the dinning hall, joining hands, and howling at the moon. The Tour had come to an end.
Looking Back
You
ever seen the television show LOST?
That’s how I usually start out the conversation when attempting to
explain COSM. If a person’s reply
to my question is no, I give a sigh (which mean I whisper “fuck” in my mind)
and I give the best generic description I can muster. For those of you that would answer “Yes”, allow my simple
but to the point description: COSM
is the Island. While there isn’t a
smoke monster that acts as sentry to the perimeter of the property, there is a
benevolent force. Though I never
heard stories of a man that was miraculously able to walk after years of being
confined to a wheelchair, there is a magic that flows through the land.
There
is so much that seems to draw a wide and eclectic range of people to the
property. Most of the time it is
the Greys and their philosophy, which is the mission of COSM. Others, without knowing it, could be
drawn by the land itself; and the Greys being the simple tool to do this. The second thought is a bit of a cute
and abstract romanticized idea, but what else would expect. As long as you’re not one of the
worshiping fans, with a moderate grip on reality (which I feel I am), there is
a gravitational pull that makes it hard to leave. (For those of you who know my real story for not wanting to
leave…that blogs coming soon.)
As
much love as I have for the community, property, and mission of COSM, I am not
blind to its dramatic and obvious dysfunction. The community is still operated by human beings, and as we
all know, humans are fallible and egocentric creatures. I’m not going to go into all those
details, it’s not my place, nor is it the time and format for such an ego
driven critique. In order to
have true love for someone, place, or thing…you’ve gotta love its faults
too.
Like the Island, it exudes a mysterious sense of refuge to so many who
seek community. Many who are
marginalized outsiders find a sanctuary for much needed respite. It feels like home to so many outcast,
that many people forget there is an “hours of operation”. You don’t have to go home, but you
can’t stay here. Being able to
walk the grounds and lend my own two hands for the community has given me
further articulation of what our contemporary society may be lacking. COSM isn’t the answer, it has it’s own
mission, but it is a beautiful place filled with potential, hope, and
promise. For me…at the heart, it
was an introduction.
On our final day, before we left, I had one last mission. As I had done along the 7,000 mile journey, I needed to spread my Marc's ashes on the grounds. The location I chose was the future site for the actual building, The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors. The sculpture that holds space for the Chapel is called "Altered States". Marc and the RISE tour are forever a part of the ground known as COSM.
To Learn more about Kate Raudenbusch, The artist behind "Altered States" visit her website
To learn more about Rafael or Cosm, visit the links below.
It seem so cliché to attach a TooL song to this blog. Then again, how could I not?
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