Aloha Maui Mixed Plate Music Video Fest – Alternative Rock, Experimental

We’re working on creating the First Maui Music Video Festival and are looking for Alternative Rock/Experimental artists to take part. There’s no submission fee. Tentative date is May 15th. Bands are not required to come to Maui.

We need the original video directly from you or a link where we can download it. Beyond that we’re going to need a 30 second blurb with your band name, song description, and a shout out to your fans.
You can reach us at lord.greystoke77@gmail.com

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The Julian Day – What’s In A Name?

Kuniyoshi Ghosts of the Taira Clan

Kuniyoshi Ghosts of the Taira Clan

The Julian Day began recording immediately after the Winter Solstice of 2010 and posted their first song “Policy” on reverbnation during the first week of January, 2011. With the days growing longer, they felt something in the air. And then came the Arab Spring and The Julian Day were in what Shakespeare once called, “a fine frenzy rolling.”

Immersed at a young age in the songs of the great singer/songwriters of the 70s and the experimentation of 80s bands like New Order, U2 and Echo and The Bunnymen, The Julian Day fuses the two to offer a wholly new sound for 2014 that amps it up while stripping it down.

With The Julian Day you’ll find good songwriting mixed with just enough instrumentation to drive the songs along. Working with the idea that art is best when nothing can be added and nothing can be taken away, The Julian Day seeks to engage the listener head-on. Spare and spartanized, these songs have just the right amount of color and texture while offering brief lessons in the game of life.

“For those of you wondering why we chose the name “The Julian Day.” To the best of our knowledge the “actual” julian day is the day inserted into the month of February every leap year. This is the day that balances the calendar and literally balances time. In a world where everyone and everything seems hell-bent on throwing us and the entire world out of sync:”

“We like the idea of achieving balance and evening things out to create a harmonious wholeness.”

Even if achieving that means first, throwing everything out of whack. It’s only when we experience chaos that we define our truest foundations.

Our first EP is called Sohei.

Sohei in Japanese means literally “monk warriors” or enlightened soldiers. Lofty title right? We’re doing our best.

With Sohei we’ve created what we believe is a powerful musical document that underlines the struggle for a higher spiritual and emotional connection to humanity that is musically and thematically coherent. We’re not interested in singles. We want all of the songs to contribute to a homogenous, and sonically courageous whole; each song contributing to a unified statement. We’re hoping you all will enjoy it as much as we’ve enjoyed, and are enjoying creating it.

“NY indie rock sound of the future.” – Nikolaos Liolios, IndieFunda Project

“Listening to The Julian Day’s catalog, I discovered that this was not a band that conformed to any traditional playbook. None of their songs are by any means traditional. While their eclecticism may not be everyone, it is part of the charm that makes this band worth listening to. It’s difficult to draw comparisons with any other artist, as The Julian Day has certainly created a sound they can call their own.” – Brad Madison, Soundvaults

“Strong distinctive sound and blend of west/east, old/new, melody/poetry … a real pleasure to listen to. Looking forward to hearing more.” – Greg Charles/A Nice Vibe, San Francisco

Listen: http://soundcloud.com/thejulianday

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Characteristics of Hemingway’s Code Hero…

85718694Hemingway Code Hero

Characteristics of Hemingway’s Code Hero:

· Hemingway defined the Code Hero as “a man who lives correctly, following the ideals of honor, courage and endurance in a world that is sometimes chaotic, often stressful, and always painful.”

· The Code Hero measures himself by how well he handles the difficult situations that life throws at him. He faces these experiences of life with grace (“grace under pressure”). In the end the Code Hero will lose because we are all mortal, but the true measure is how a person faces death. He or she may not win the game, but they are going to play it on their own terms.

· The Code Hero is stoic (seemingly indifferent to the pleasures and pains of like) in his or her acceptance of the hardships of life.

· The Code Hero is typically an individualist and free-willed. Although he believes in the ideals of courage and honor he has his own set of morals and principles based on his beliefs in honor, courage and endurance. A code hero never shows emotions; showing emotions and having a commitment to women shows weakness. Qualities such as bravery, adventurousness and travel also define the Code Hero.

· The rite of manhood for the Code Hero is facing death. However, once he faces death bravely and becomes a man he must continue the struggle and constantly prove himself to retain his manhood

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Antichrist by The 1975

the1975Antichrist by The 1975

Well i swear there’s a ghost on this Island

His hands, all covered in blood
My wife enquired of understanding
But of course my dear, you can’t
She said ‘How can I relate to somebody who doesn’t speak?

I feel like I’m just treading water.
Is it the same for you?
Is it the same for you?

Well he comes and he goes, so capricious. And his work appears so rushed.
Well i love the house that we live in. I love you all too much
Is it the same for you?
Is it the same for you?
Is it the same for you?
Is it the same for you?

Well criminals and liars – keep him in your cell as a privilege of mine.
Well i love the house that we live in. I love you all too much

The blood is on your tongue as well as your hands.
Archaic and content you just wash them off
The blood is on your tongue as well as your hands. Archaic and content you just wash them off

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Philip Scott Wikel – “Selling Books” Author Interview, Ticket To Ride

Philip Scott Wikel – Author Interview

Where are you from?I’m originally from Goshen, NY, a small town upstate in Orange County. It’s an idyllic little village that’s been around since before the signing of the Declaration of Independence. I’ve also lived in several states including Northern and Southern California, North Carolina, and Hawaii and have traveled extensively in Mexico, Europe and Northern Africa. My dad had wanderlust and I guess I have it to. After my son turns 18, I’ll be on the road again.

When and why did you begin writing?

The first thing I remember writing was a re-working of the Easter Bunny story back in 2nd or 3rd grade. My mother was good with helping me to write poems early on as well. Throughout my life I just wanted to write longer and longer pieces. Clicking on the “word count” button gives me a strange thrill when I realize I’ve stacked up a lot of words. And not just any words, the thrill comes from knowing I’ve arranged them differently than they’ve ever been arranged before. Why did I start writing? It was just something that was in me to do, some kind of ailment that I can’t get rid of. It was and is my way of relating to the world. I don’t mean to be so vague, but there’s no other way to say it. Maybe I’m just delusional.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I suppose it must have been in high school. I wrote love poems for girlfriends and awful surfing stories which I sent to Surfer Magazine. None of them got published, however, my friends enjoyed them and I was known among them as “the writer.” It was better than having to buy a bunch of clothes to look “Goth” or “Mod” or whatever. A much less expensive image. A couple of pens and a notebook and I was instantly cool, no matter whether anyone read my stuff or not. I always wished I needed glasses so I would look smarter.

What inspired you to write your first book?

My first book began as a short story entitled Tradewinds. My intentions were to create a piece that defined the rite-of-passage from adolescence into early adulthood. My feeling is that nowadays young men and women have very little to guide them in their coming-of-age. I picked it up and put it down for years and it eventually became a novella which, combined with a second novella, became Ticket To Ride. I’m embarrassed to say how long it took to write.

Do you have a specific writing style?

I like to think that my writing style is wholly my own but I will say that I emulated Kerouac, Hemingway and Dylan Thomas. I believe that by doing this long enough my own style eventually emerged. Like Bono from U2 said, “every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief.”

How did you come up with the title?

I have a literary manager in New York who came up with the most recent title, Ticket to Ride. However, as I mentioned earlier, my first novella was called The Tradewinds, named for the winds that blow daily in Hawaii. I like the idea that one could follow the winds around the world, experience unfettered freedom, and get lost in the breeze (more evidence of my congenital wanderlust).

The second novella Just Another Day was written as a companion piece to The Tradewinds. In The Tradewinds I had introduced a female protagonist but hadn’t developed her story. Just Another Day is, for the most part, about her. It’s based on a Paul McCartney and Wings song entitled “Another Day” which tells the story of a lonely working girl. Livy Tinsley, my female protagonist, is a devoted fan of the Beatles and Paul McCartney and, since my two main characters meet on a train in Portugal, my literary manager felt Ticket to Ride (also the name of a Beatles song) was fitting as the title of the two novellas combined. Confused yet?

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Read something else, anything else. Honestly, I guess I wanted people to be able to walk away from this book and feel that there were no obstacles they couldn’t overcome. All things can be gotten through. It’s a coming-of-age novel and I wanted to, at least attempt to, re-define our rites of passage and try to clarify the transition from adolescence to young adulthood. Both characters deal with their father’s alcoholism, poor parenting, extreme peer pressure, and self doubt, among other things. I also wanted it to be sort of a fun yet thoughtful romp through a crazy period of time. I believe it can be read either way. It might best not to read it at all. it could scar you for life.

How much of the book is realistic?

I’m a firm believer in writing what you know. I read a lot of historical fiction and I can see right through an author who hasn’t done his homework. My characters are both ten years older than me but since I’ve always been an “old soul” or just old, it wasn’t much of a leap to add a few years to my own person. What I didn’t experience myself I either garnered through the stories of friends, or pushed myself deep into my imagination to arrive at something entirely believable. I guess I’d have to say that it’s 75% me, 15% other people, and 10% imagination. Honestly, it’s all plagiarized.

Are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your own life?

I think I answered this one in the last question. But I will add the following as examples: Most of the European portion is all me, however, I didn’t travel alone. I went to Europe with my best friend. And I never actually slept with a prostitute in Lisbon but I did stay in a pensione there. A large portion of Livy’s experiences are my own, however, I made my best effort to feminize them. I believe I’ve had enough girlfriends, and a sister and a mother, to help me to write from a feminine point-of-view. If I’ve failed in any way in this book it might be in grasping the fullness of the feminine experience. Do you think that last line might get me some dates?

What books have most influenced your life?

Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, The Red and the Black by Stendhal, The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway, The Bone People by Keri Hulme, and On The Road by Jack Kerouac. Maybe even Tristram Shandy by Laurence Sterne. His sense of humor is phenomenal.

If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?

The guy who writes Hallmark cards. Actually, Dylan Thomas literally set me on fire. Quite Early One Morning showed me that words could have a life all their own.

What book are you reading now?

I’m re-reading Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and am finding it quite different from when I first read it 20 years ago. I’m actually quite disappointed with it in that it’s almost entirely devoid of feeling. I think I read a lot into it when I was 19. I think I also assumed that since it was Hemingway it had to be good. Who do I think I am, right? He’s one of the great “masters.”

If you had to choose one book to read the rest of your life, and nothing else, what book would it be and why?

It’s a toss up between Catcher in the Rye and The Fountainhead. Catcher in the Rye because I never tire of Holden Caulfield’s cynicism and no nonsense approach to life, and The Fountainhead for it’s definition of the true artist and being true to your convictions. I wish I was more like Howard Roark. He’s so damned cool.

Do you have something you are working on at the moment that you’d like to share with us?

How much abuse can people take? But seriously, I’m mostly writing bits for my blog but I’m also working on a sequel to Ticket to Ride. The sequel will chronicle the life of Dylan Blake, the son of my two main characters from Ticket to Ride. I’m only half-way through it. I have a million little notes I’ve written on scraps of paper that sometime soon I hope to add into that book. I’m finding it much harder to make sense of the decades of the 90s and this most recent one than I did with the 70s. I’m considering a collection of my blog posts as well. I’ve had some good feedback there. I also recently bought my first guitar and am hoping to spend some time with it soon. Then I can annoy people with songs instead of stories.

If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?

Whatever it takes to make it a bestseller. Really though, there’s a typo in Chapter 15 wherein there’s a poem I wrote for a real-life woman and I included a line about having a son. I meant to change the line to “the sun” instead of “my son.” Everyone who proofread it missed that. I also might have made it more sort of PG rated so it would be more appropriate for the YA crowd. My thirteen-year-old son wants to read it but, as street-wise as he is, I’d rather he wait a few years.

Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?

I think it was always there waiting for me to discover it. I don’t remember not being interested in writers and writing. I suppose it might have been a disease I was born with and I don’t believe anyone has found a cure.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

Writing, or, at least feeling like I’m writing something that has never been written in quite the same way. I’m terrified of being redundant. There’s a famous quote that says something like writers have only one story to tell and they tell it over and over again. I suppose some readers enjoy this because they know what to expect of their favorite writers. I like to be surprised with something new.

Who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?

I named my son after Dylan Thomas for the reasons I mentioned above. He literally set me on fire.

Who designed the covers?

I designed them myself. I’m a graphic designer by trade. For better or for worse, I don’t think I could have had anyone else design them. I guess I’m a bit of a control freak that way.

What was the hardest part of writing your book?

Returning to the place I left off. Getting back into character time and again to maintain consistency. I can be a bit of a chameleon. Being a chameleon keeps me from getting bored with myself and keeps me from being stuck in any kind of mindset or even caricature. I think a lot of people become caricatures of themselves by being always the same about everything day in and day out. I like to surprise myself with some new way of looking at things. It can be challenging to turn it off and be a consistent me when I need to for writing. Maybe some lithium would help.

Did you learn anything from writing your book and what was it?

I should probably stick to graphic design. Honestly though, writing only “what you know” can be a hinderance. Sometimes you have to settle for less than 100% on that one. Imagination can be a wonderful thing. I might better put in a call to the Wizard of Oz.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Become an accountant or something where everything always adds up. Honestly? Read, read, read. Read what you love, read often and don’t expect to find your way as a writer until you’ve read a small library of books. Reading establishes patterns of thought that will translate later to words on paper.

Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

Mom, go easy on me. Seriously though, to future readers: Be patient with me. I may not hand you the story in boldface print but if you spend some time with me you might find something you can use. To current readers: Thanks for taking the risk. Choosing to read a new novelist is a gamble that many don’t feel they can afford. Books aren’t cheap these days unless of course you’ve managed to get a hold of some form of e-reader.

If you could mirror the career of any other author, who would it be and why?

I’m torn between living like J.D. Salinger and Bono from U2. Of course I’d have to be as famous as either one of them before I’d actually be faced with that dilemma. What a fine dilemma that would be.

If you had to choose something besides writing, what career would you choose and why?

I’d like to be Adam Sandler. He seems to be having a great time all the time.

I find great joy in creating. If not in writing then in graphic design. So far, graphic design pays a lot better. Perhaps if I spent more time writing I’d find more opportunities to make it my livelihood. Although I’m afraid of any kind of writing career other than being a novelist. I believe novelists have the best opportunities for creativity. Deadlines can quickly snuff out inspiration. In newspapers, this morning’s headline is this evening’s trash. I admire those who write for newspapers because there’s a great need for them but I like things with lasting significance. I actually did some news writing in the past. Woodward and Bernstein are 2 of my heroes but I don’t foresee anyone breaking stories like theirs ever again. With government and all that, it’s kind of been done, people are desensitized or immune to that sort of thing now. I know I’m going to step on some toes here but I think the big news stories have all been written. But what do I know, right?

Do you have a muse? 

Muses come from anywhere and everywhere. I wish I had one that would never fail me but I find that eventually I have to move on to new sources of inspiration. Just like I hate to write the same thing twice, I don’t think I can tap the same fountain more than once. I never know where it’s going to come from, I just hope that it does. Today I went to the store and a beautiful Latina woman asked me what I was doing for fun on my day off and that question sent me to my laptop where I wrote my blog post for the day. It’s all very random. Knowing I might have something to share is one of my motivations. Writing for yourself is one thing and writing for the sake of writing is another. I’ve heard it said that we write to know that we’re not alone. I suppose it’s good to feel you have an audience and that you’re not “screaming into the void.” Did I say something or was that an echo?

What is the interview question you always dread being asked? Can you give us the answer?

I fear no question. It may be my vanity but I love this process.

What is your favorite interview question, and what is the answer?

It would have to be what I am trying to accomplish through my writing because I like to feel that I have something to say. Sometimes I wish I was like Stephen King or James Michener with respect to their ability to crank out one giant book after another. But I don’t write that way. I’d like to be like an exclusive vintner, creating limited edition wines as opposed to going the Gallo route. At this point, I might even settle for fermented cider, as long as people can hold it down. What’s the old saying, “what doesn’t kill you, will only make you stronger.” Drink Ticket to Ride at your own risk.

If you were to assign an MPAA rating (PG, PG-13, etc.) to your book, what rating would you give it and why?

Rated R for a sex scene, some drug use and some inappropriate language.

Get Ticket To Ride 50% Off: https://www.createspace.com/5332911

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MauiSalt is going live! Call for submissions!

blonde-surf-surfer-girl-Favim.com-348013

“Go ahead and write about it, I dare you.”

Hey Guys and Gals! Bust out the pen and laptop and give us your best Hemingway!

We’re looking for great maritime writing. Anything to do with the ocean experience. Windsurfing, Kite-surfing, Sailing, Surfing, Stand-Up Paddling, Kayaking, Canoeing, Bodyboarding, Fishing, etc., etc., etc.

Please email them to Lord.Greystoke77@gmail.com

MauiSalt is going live!
This is a call for submissions!
http://wp.me/p58kbE-k

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Are You Living Right? “On Right Livelihood” by J. Krishnamurti

krishnamurti-mainOn Right Livelihood by J. Krishnamurti

First Talk in The Oak Grove

To understand the confusion and misery that exist in ourselves, and so in the world, we must first find clarity within ourselves, and this clarity comes about through right thinking. This clarity is not to be organized, for it cannot be exchanged with another. Organized group thought becomes dangerous, however good it may appear; organized group thought can be used, exploited; group thought ceases to be right thinking, it is merely repetitive. Clarity is essential, for without it change and reform merely lead to further confusion. Clarity is not the result of verbal assertion but of intense self-awareness and right thinking. Right thinking is not the outcome of mere cultivation of the intellect, nor is it conformity to pattern, however worthy and noble. Right thinking comes with self-knowledge. Without understanding yourself, you have no basis for thought; without self-knowledge, what you think is not true.

You and the world are not two different entities with separate problems; you and the world are one. Your problem is the world’s problem. You may be the result of certain tendencies, of environmental influences, but you are not different fundamentally from another. Inwardly, we are very much alike; we are all driven by greed, ill will, fear, ambition, and so on. Our beliefs, hopes, aspirations have a common basis. We are one; we are one humanity, though the artificial frontiers of economics and politics and prejudice divide us. If you kill another, you are destroying yourself. You are the center of the whole, and without understanding yourself you cannot understand reality.

We have an intellectual knowledge of this unity, but we keep knowledge and feeling in different compartments, and hence we never experience the extraordinary unity of man. When knowledge and feeling meet, there is experience. These talks will be utterly useless if you do not experience as you are listening. Do not say, ”I will understand later,” but experience now. Do not keep your knowledge and your feeling separate, for out of this separation grow confusion and misery. You must experience this living unity of man. You are not separate from the Japanese, the Hindu, the Negro, or the German. To experience this immense unity, be open, become conscious of this division between knowledge and feeling; do not be a slave to compartmental philosophy.

Without self-knowledge understanding is not possible. Self-knowledge is extremely arduous and difficult for you are a complex entity. You must approach the understanding of the self simply, without any pretensions, without any theories. If I would understand you, I must have no preconceived formulations about you, there must be no prejudice; I must be open, without judgment, without comparison. This is very difficult, for with most of us thought is the result of comparison, of judgment. Through approximation we think we are understanding, but is understanding born of comparison, judgment? Or, is it the outcome of noncomparative thought? If you would understand something, do you compare it with something else or do you study it for itself?

Thought born of comparison is not right thinking. Yet in studying ourselves we are comparing, approximating. It is this that prevents the understanding of ourselves. Why do we judge ourselves? Is not our judgment the outcome of our desire to become something, to gain, to conform, to protect ourselves? This very urge prevents understanding.

As I said, you are a complex entity, and to understand it you must examine it. You cannot understand it if you are comparing it with the yesterday or with the tomorrow. You are an intricate mechanism, but comparison, judgment, identification prevent comprehension. Do not be afraid that you will become sluggish, smug, self-contented if you do not compete in comparison. Once you have perceived the futility of comparison, there is a great freedom. Then you are no longer striving to become, but there is freedom to understand. Be aware of this comparative process of your thinking – experience all this as I am explaining – and feel its futility, its fundamental thoughtlessness; you will then experience a great freedom, as though you had laid down a wearisome burden. In this freedom from approximation and so from identification, you will be able to discover and understand the realities of yourself. If you do not compare, judge, then you will be confronted with yourself, and this will give clarity and strength to uncover great depths. This is essential for the understanding of reality. When there is no self-approximation, then thought is liberated from duality; the problem and the conflict with the opposites fall away. In this freedom there is a revolutionary, creative understanding.

There is not one of us who is not confronted with the problem of killing and non-killing, violence and nonviolence. Some of you may feel that, as your sons, brothers, or husbands are not involved in this mass murder called war, you are not immediately concerned with this problem, but if you will look a little more closely, you will see how deeply you are involved. You cannot escape it. You must, as an individual, have a definite attitude towards killing and non-killing. If you have not been aware of it, you are being confronted with it now; you must face the issue, the dualistic problem of capitalism and communism, love and hate, killing and non-killing, and so on. How are you to find the truth of the matter? Is there any release from conflict in the endless corridor of duality? Many believe that in the very struggle of the opposites there is creativeness, that this conflict is life, and to escape from it is to be in illusion. Is this so? Does not an opposite contain an element of its own opposite and so produce endless conflict and pain? Is conflict necessary for creation? Are the moments of creativeness the outcome of strife and pain? Does not the state of creative being come into existence when all pain and struggle have utterly ceased? You can experience this for yourself. This freedom from opposites is not an illusion; in it alone is the answer to all of our confusion and conflicting problems.

You are faced with the problem of killing your brother in the name of religion, of peace, of country, and so on. How shall you find the answer, in which further conflicting, further opposing problems are not inherent? To find a true, lasting answer, must you not go outside of the dualistic pattern of thought? You kill because your property, your safety, your prestige are threatened; as with the individual, so with the group, with the nation. To be free from violence and nonviolence, there must be freedom from acquisitiveness, ill will, lust, and so on. But most of us do not go into the problem deeply and are satisfied with reform, with alternation within the pattern of duality. We accept as inevitable this conflict of duality and within that pattern try to bring about modification, change; within it we maneuver to a better position, to a more advantageous point for ourselves. Change or reform merely within the pattern of duality produces only further confusion and pain and hence is retrogression.

You must go beyond the pattern of duality to solve permanently the problem of opposites. Within the pattern there is no truth, however much we may be caught in it; if we seek truth in it, we will be led to many delusions. We must go beyond the dualistic pattern of the ‘I’ and the not-‘I’, the possessor and the possessed. Beyond and above the endless corridor of duality lies truth. Beyond and above the conflicting and painful problem of opposites lies creative understanding. This is to be experienced, not to be speculated upon, not to be formulated, but to be realized through deep awareness of the dualistic hindrances.

Questioner: I am sure most of us have seen authentic pictures in movies and in magazines of the horrors and the barbarities of the concentration camps. What should be done, in your opinion, with those who have perpetrated these monstrous atrocities? Should they not be punished?

Krishnamurti: Who is to punish them? Is not the judge often as guilty as the accused? Each one of us has built up this civilization, each one has contributed towards its misery, each one is responsible for its actions. We are the outcome of each other’s actions and reactions; this civilization is a collective result. No country or people is separate from another; we are all interrelated: we are one. Whether we acknowledge it or not, when a misfortune happens to a people, we share in it as in its good fortune. You may not separate yourself to condemn or to praise.

The power to oppress is evil, and every group that is large and well organized becomes a potential source of evil. By shouting loudly the cruelties of another country, you think you can overlook those of your own. It is not only the vanquished but every country that is responsible for the horrors of war. War is one of the greatest catastrophes; the greatest evil is to kill another. Once you admit such an evil into your heart, then you let loose countless minor disasters. You do not condemn war itself but him who is cruel in war.

You are responsible for war; you have brought it about by your everyday action of greed, ill will, passion. Each one of us has built up this competitive, ruthless civilization in which man is against man. You want to root out the causes of war, of barbarity in others, while you yourself indulge in them. This leads to hypocrisy and to further wars. You have to root out the causes of war, of violence, in yourself, which demands patience and gentleness, not bloody condemnation of others.

Humanity does not need more suffering to make it understand, but what is needed is that you should be aware of your own actions, that you should awaken to your own ignorance and sorrow and so bring about in yourself compassion and tolerance. You should not be concerned with punishments and rewards, but with the eradication in yourself of those causes that manifest themselves in violence and in hate, in antagonism and ill will. In murdering the murderer you become like him; you become the criminal. A wrong is not righted through wrong means; only through right means can a right end be accomplished. If you would have peace you must employ peaceful means, and mass murder, war, can only lead to further murder, further suffering. There can be no love through bloodshed; an army is not an instrument of peace. Only goodwill and compassion can bring peace to the world, not might and cunning nor mere legislation.

You are responsible for the misery and disaster that exist, you who in your daily life are cruel, oppressive, greedy, ambitious. Suffering will continue until you eradicate in yourself those causes that breed passion, greed, and ruthlessness. Have peace and compassion in your heart and you will find the right answer to your questions.

Questioner: At this time and in our present way of life, our feelings become blunted and hard Can you suggest a way of life that will make us more sensitive? Can we become so in spite of noise, haste, all the competitive professions and pursuits? Can we become so without dedication to a higher source of life?

Krishnamurti: Is it not necessary, for clear and right thinking, to be sensitive? To feel deeply, must not the heart be open? Must not the body be healthy to respond eagerly? We blunt our minds, our feelings, our bodies, with beliefs and ill will, with strong and hardening stimulants. It is essential to be sensitive, to respond keenly and rightly, but we become blunted, hard, through our appetites. There is no separate entity such as the mind apart from the organism as a whole, and when the organism as a whole is ill-treated, wasted, distracted, then insensitivity sets in. Our environment, our present way of life, blunts us, wastes us. How can you be sensitive when every day you indulge in reading or seeing pictures of the slaughter of thousands – this mass murder reported as though it were a successful game. The first time you read the reports you may feel sick at heart, but the constant repetition of brutal ruthlessness dulls your mind-heart, immunizing you to the utter barbarism of modern society. The radios, magazines, cinemas are ever wasting your sensitive pliabilities; you are forced, threatened, regimented, and how can you, in the midst of this noise, haste, and false pursuits, remain sensitive for the cultivation of right thinking?

If you would not have your feelings blunted and hard, you must pay the price for it; you must abandon haste, distraction, wrong professions and pursuits. You must become aware of your appetites, your limiting environment, and by rightly understanding them you begin to reawaken your sensitivity. Through constant awareness of your thoughts-feelings, the causes of self-enclosure and narrowness fall away. If you would be highly sensitive and clear, you must deliberately work for it; you cannot be worldly and yet be pure in the pursuit of reality. Our difficulty is we want both – the burning appetites and the serenity of reality. You must abandon the one or the other; you cannot have both. You cannot indulge and yet be alert; to be keenly aware there must be freedom from those influences that are crystallizing, blunting.

We have overdeveloped the intellect at the cost of our deeper and clearer feelings, and a civilization that is based on the cultivation of the intellect must bring about ruthlessness and the worship of success. The emphasis on intellect or on emotion leads to unbalance, and intellect is ever seeking to safeguard itself. Mere determination only strengthens the intellect and blunts and hardens it; it is ever self-aggressive in becoming or not-becoming. The ways of the intellect must be understood through constant awareness, and its reeducation must transcend its own reasoning.

Questioner: I find there is conflict between my occupation and my relationship. They go in different directions. How can I make them meet?

Krishnamurti: Most of our occupations are dictated by tradition, or by greed, or by ambition. In our occupation we are ruthless, competitive, deceitful, cunning, and highly self-protective. If we weaken at any time we may go under, so we must keep up with the high efficiency of the greedy machine of business. It is a constant struggle to maintain a hold, to become sharper and cleverer. Ambition can never find lasting satisfaction; it is ever seeking wider fields for self-assertiveness.

But in relationship quite a different process is involved. In it there must be affection, consideration, adjustment, self-denial, yielding – not to conquer but to live happily. In it there must be self-effacing tenderness, freedom from domination, from possessiveness; but emptiness and fear breed jealousy and pain in relationship. Relationship is a process of self-discovery in which there is wider and deeper understanding; relationship is a constant adjustment in self-discovery. It demands patience, infinite pliability, and a simple heart.

But how can the two meet together – self-assertiveness and love, occupation and relationship? The one is ruthless, competitive, ambitious; the other is self-denying, considerate, gentle: they cannot come together. With one hand people deal in blood and money, and with the other they try to be kind, affectionate, thoughtful. As a relief from their thoughtless and dull occupations, they seek comfort and ease in relationship. But relationship does not yield comfort, for it is a distinctive process of self-discovery and understanding. The man of occupation tries to seek, through his life of relationship, comfort and pleasure as a compensation for his wearisome business. His daily occupation of ambition, greed, and ruthlessness lead step by step to war and to the barbarities of modern civilization.

Right occupation is not dictated by tradition, greed, or ambition. If each one is seriously concerned in establishing right relationship, not only with one but with all, then he will find right occupation. Right occupation comes with regeneration, with the change of heart, not with the mere intellectual determination to find it.

Integration is only possible if there is clarity of understanding on all the different levels of our consciousness. There can be no integration of love and ambition, deception and clarity, compassion and war. So long as occupation and relationship are kept apart, so long will there be endless conflict and misery. All reformation within the pattern of duality is retrogression; only beyond it is there creative peace.

May 27, 1945

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Ticket To Ride, Book 2, Final Chapter: And time cast forth his mortal creature…

Cathedral Cove

Cathedral Cove

As the island of Barbados was unveiled by the pure-light of day, two tanned figures walked away from the transplanted shadows of a few well-placed royal palms, heading towards the shore. The young couple, he with blondish hair and an infant child in his arms and she, fairer but ruddily complected, her left arm stretched around both, crossed the newly smooth sand and the wispy grasses of the upper beach, the front yard of their moravian style cottage. Though neither could be accused of being materialists, this structurally simplistic, eye-pleasing edifice offered an unmistakable air of serenity and strength, the essence of life, which made them feel light, and at ease.

In this way they walked nearly every morning since a need to be closer to family and the desire to make a fresh start brought them to the island, a peaceable harbor in the storm of an American social climate fraught with a backlash of guilt and spiritual turmoil, the unwanted stepchildren of change. This morning ritual was made, not out of a sense of obligation or need, but because their daily pilgrimage was as natural to them as the involuntary beating of one’s heart and as inconsequentially essential as the taking of bread and water for one’s nourishment.

Sometimes they would speculate about or marvel at the sea and what lay beyond; what sights, scents or sounds might be beheld in distant lands such as Cyprus, Indonesia or Sri Lanka. They preferred to consider the warm lands of the world because, like their parents, they were drawn to the comfortable climes, places where life’s necessities could be kept to a minimum.

Their conversation came flowingly, with the ease of a mountain stream and would rise and fall like the ocean swells which appeared consistently on the shallow sand bars beyond the surf fishermen as they strung line and laid their nets in the ever-present sea. The two didn’t readily acknowledge the fishermen but only focused on them between thoughts, using their deliberate and precise movements like a musician makes use of a metronome, to keep time. They gazed intently at these energetic men as one might gaze at a flickering candle flame, in profound meditation.

On this particular day and within one of these particular moments, Olivia leaned forward and spoke deliberately:

“I can almost see the canoes and huts and the beautiful brown girls bathing in the sea. What must it have been like here four hundred years ago?”

As she spoke, the morning sun shot warm and piercing rays of light into the faces of the three, reflecting their light into the world. The shore began to grow humid, sultry and pleasantly heavy as the passive force of the sun encouraged the static air to gravitate skyward, toward a heavy, water-laden cumulus which would soon fall as a gentle summer rain, completing the necessary cycle which offers a watery infusion of life to the mountains, rivers, and the sea in front of them.

Morgan said nothing but instead pictured himself sitting there in the days before the colonists and traders. He saw himself as a young native boy preparing for a day of fishing or hunting. And then, his eyes at once fixed on the fisherman, his gaze rose above their heads and he became entranced by the sea.

It surged without crashing and seemed to breathe, pushing and pulling at the sugary sand just as gentle, knowing hands caress the skin, and this, coupled with the charming industry with which the fishermen went about their day, served to free the stream of conversation for several hours until it seemed, the rest of the world, or perhaps just the island, was waking up to the new day.

They came together this morning to “baptize” their new child in the sea, which was done with little ceremony except for the recitation of a few paraphrased lines from Dylan Thomas, and the addition of a request that the sea spirits take good care of their son Dylan August.

They sat down again, Dylan wiggling then settling in his mother’s arms to nurse.

“Have I told you about my great grandfather?”

“Tell me again.”

“He was a bicycle salesman, not a guy who sold bicycles but the guy who had what people needed like tools and things and he rode around the island on his bike selling stuff. He was born here in 1885…

 

And time cast forth his mortal creature

To drift or drown upon the seas

Acquainted with the salt adventure

Of tides that never touch the shores

He who is rich will be made the richer

By sipping at the vine of days.

- Dylan Thomas

 

About the author:

As the publisher of SALT magazine, a regional ocean sports magazine, Philip has gained something of a following in Southern California. He has also been published in Blue Edge magazine (which included an interview with Jack Johnson), The VC Reporter, The Surfer’s Path (UK), the Ojai Visitor’s guide, Fishing Stories magazine in Australia and others. Philip has worked in various fields including everything from carpentry to graphic design. He studied Comparative Literature at UC – Santa Cruz and has traveled extensively. His other writing projects include a sequel to Ticket to Ride that chronicles the life of Dylan Blake, the child of Morgan and Livy, now an adult trying to make sense of his own generation, and finding his own place within it.

 

Connect with Me: Lord.Greystoke77@gmail.com

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Ticket To Ride, Book 2, Chapter 34: I’m not trying to get away from myself anymore…

fathers-sons-ivan-turgenev-paperback-cover-art“That’s a wonderful piece honey, it reads like poetry,” She put the magazine on the coffee table.

“Thanks… the poet laureate of Conset Bay,” Morgan said smiling.

“Yeah.”

“Well finish your coffee and we’ll take Dylan down to the water.”

“Shuwa,” said Olivia, feigning a New York accent and smiling like an Armstrong pinup.

Morgan put a copy of the magazine into his filing cabinet and noticed a yellowed note stuck against the inside of the drawer. He went cold.

Olivia moved closer, noticing the change in his disposition.

“What is it honey?”

Morgan handed her the note.

“I think I’ve mentioned Psalm.”

“Yeah he… your old friend from the islands, right?”

She read out loud,

“I’m sorry, I just can’t,

I killed them”

“What is…

“Aristotle told me… Psalm had gone to some sort of ‘love-in’ with his wife and their daughter. There was a lot of stuff going around, you know, it was like 1970, the height of psychedelia. On the way home he crashed his car, killing his wife and daughter.”

“Oh no Morgan… that’s why…”

“Yeah… and he did a lot of acid after that.”

Images of Vietnam and Woodstock flashed into Morgan’s mind. He then saw his Uncle Norman as his father described him, and finally Uncle Jack in his dress blues.

The phone rang. Morgan walked to the coffee table where the phone was sitting next to a copy of SEA. On it’s cover it read “Melville’s Ghost” by Morgan Blake. He picked up the phone and Olivia picked up the other line.

“Hello.”

“Morgan, it’s your father.”

Morgan smiled and breathed.

“Hey dad, it’s been a while.”

“A few years.”

“Almost five.”

“Well your mom prevailed on me…”

“How’s mom.”

“She’s good and we’re good. I’ll understand if you’re still angry with me and…”

“Angry? I’ve been hoping for this. I’m glad you called. I hope you don’t mind but I wanted to…”

“It was my move,” William interrupted, “Your mom saw your article in that magazine and I called the office.”

“You know dad, it’s ok. We’re ‘baptizing’ our boy today.”

“Another Blake,” William said excitedly.

“Yeah, the name goes on.”

“We’re only a few of hours away. Had to get back to the East.”

“Dad…”

“Go ahead Morgan.”

“Thanks for everything you did before I ever knew that you were doing anything for me. I know you did your best.”

“I, Morgan, I…” William’s voice trailed off and Morgan knew he was crying.

“I’m ok with everything dad.”

“Can we get together soon? Your mother would love to see you… and I would too kid.”

“Door’s always open.”

“What’s my grandson’s name?”

“Dylan…”

“After Dylan Thomas.” William finished, “perfect.”

“We’re in Conset Bay dad, had to get away.”

“I know about getting away.”

“I guess you do.”

“I’m not trying to get away from myself anymore.”

“Well good, your grandson’s going to want to have you around, all of you.”

“When will we see you?”

“Next week is Thanksgiving and Livy’s mother will be here. Why don’t you and mom come then? Just call when you get to the island.”

“Fantastic Morgan… we’ll look forward to it”

“Perfect… I love you dad.”

“I love you too Morgan.”

“Tell mom I’ll talk to her then.”

“See ya soon.”

“Yeah, see ya kid.”

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“The City” by The 1975

The-1975-The-City-by-Tim-Mattia2

I’m really digging this song. These guys are my faves next to Bastille. I highly recommend the deluxe version of their current album.

“The City”

Don’t call it a fight when you know it’s a war.
With nothing but your t-shirt on.
And go sit on the bed ’cause I know that you want to.
You got pretty eyes, but I know you’re wrong.

And don’t call it a spade if it isn’t a spade.
And go lie on the floor if you want.
The first bit of advice that you gave me that I liked was they’re too strong, too strong.
Get in the shower if it all goes wrong.

Yeah, If you wanna find love then you know where the city is [x4]

Yeah counting cards was the best job he ever had.
Cleaning up.
He got good with his 4′s and his 2′s.
Community service was the best job he ever had.
Cleaning up.
He got sick on the floor and his shoes.

Oh and she said “It’s your birthday,
Are you feeling alright?”
The next one’s the MD.
You’ll be feeling just fine.
Your brother is just sat there,
You said you felt snide.
You hope that that boy will be alright.

Yeah, If you wanna find love then you know where the city is [x4]

Yeah well she said “It’s your birthday,
Are you feeling alright?”
The next one’s the MD.
You’ll be feeling just fine.
Your brother is just sat there,
You said you felt snide.
You hope that that boy will be alright.

Yeah, If you wanna find love then you know where the city is [x4]

 

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