During another session of looking for local artists to share; I got hemmed in by this band from Brooklyn. At least they are from the same continent so keeping it somewhat local.:). Their genre is self described as Psych Pop. There is a diverse inescapable conscientious flow from the heart of light with these creations. This band has been around since 2003. They have played at the Burning and Frozen Man festivals. Listening to their material that is available on YouTube, one can feel why they would be welcomed at any gathering of like minded minds connected to the flow of nature.
The first video came with the flow of my breakfast. I made some oatmeal, and used raw honey to sweeten the oats. This honey was stolen by my father, who passed away in 2001. I feel his love when I taste this honey’s sweetness. I watched him and my granddaddy steal honey. Granddaddy was an artist at stealing honey. He went to the hive with only a smoker. Granddaddy was a super hero to the writer when he would go into the supers like that. The man held no fear of the bees, but they would sting him, and he just swiped the stingers off and kept stealing. He had enough sense though to leave the bees enough for themselves, so the supply of honey would be replenished to steal again. What mankind could learn from a wise beekeeper when it comes to living balanced with the nature of this world? Mighten there be plenty of honey for everyone.
“The care of the Earth is our most ancient and most worthy, and after all our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it and to foster its renewal is our only hope.” Wendell Berry
These doses are spiritual in nature. I have avoided sharing organized religion themed creators for some time. It is something that I had to let go of, the aversion of being walled into a label. My own spiritual experience was full of madness and fear of the return of that madness partially fostered this aversion. This blog has been a tool for self discovery and also a way to overcome fear ; Fears of sharing feelings and perceptions. Words can be very powerful through meaning and the feelings that those meanings create within my body. Words can be a prison, but the wings of understanding can leave plenty of room to safely fly in and out through barless windows. If one goes far enough into it, spirituality belief is religion or cult even if it is held by only one. So it seems baring judgment that everything holds truth without hearsay’s authority, but hearsay and it’s calculated ugly and beautiful self projected portion of truth is simply a part of what all is. Being small enough to enjoy it all is a simple pleasantry. That’s some deep shit so be careful where you step. :).
The first dose is A Tribe Called Red. This band was shared by a good friend on Facebook a while back and are based out of Ontario. Now my conditioning would lead me to believe that this band should have no spiritual connection to me. That tribal chanting is not something that I should feel connected too. Madness has shown me otherwise. :).
The second dose is Bellarive, a self labeled worship band from Orlando, Florida. This band is very talented and with the reported rising popularity of Christian music I can see this band growing a larger following of believers. I do enjoy their flow.
The third dose is MC Yogi. The video shared is about being the change you want to see. It is well pointed, but I have discovered that no one thing is like another. Illusion and Imagination despite the powerful draw is not always reality. Seeking change has to be fueled by incredible desire. Desire that is strong enough to consume it’s imagined self. Change is possible, but it must come from within with out by my experience. Be not like Christ or Ghandi but be yourself and find the flow that is unknowable through a way and maybe the strange waters they sipped from will touch your lips as well. These words are for the suffered and not against the not suffered.
The vision of heaven and hell is reality to many I know, so what do I know that they don’t? I know nothing, but in respect of what others seem to know, I play along as not playing seems not selfless. To point towards the duality of things with aim of where nothing resides.
Where purpose is independent of purpose. Where rivers sing the song of bird and the birds sing the song of river. Where feeling is knowing and knowing is nothingness. Where Truth murders all allegiances leaving allegiance to only allegiance. Where untamed madness feels not the whip of tamed knowledge. Where folly is Truth and Truth is folly foreign to accepting resistance. Is it, that only the meek, stupid and dull come to feel his madness and her brand burn deep into the thin veil of the soul with contentment? I can’t write anything with certainty for certainty is the whip of fools. I can only write from love as I feel it and the folly of love seems the greatest folly of all. With loving madness, I write……