Accessing the collective knowledge of the plants.

The trees are the oldest inhabitants of the planet. They see the eons pass languidly into eternity. Wouldn't it be wonderful to communicate with the trees and share their rich collective wisdom? is it even possible?

Yes it is.

The plants communicate chemically since they don't have mouths to speak. The most communicative are the entheogenic plants. Psychoactive compounds in the plants are the links to access into their collective knowledge. Shamans have been doing this for centuries. It is crucial not to get lost when experiencing the overwhelming visions. Never underestimate the power of the plants. It is important to practice a level of discipline in order to maximize the understanding of the knowledge passed via visions.

Dimethyltryptamine (DMT),Psilocybin mushrooms, Mescaline and Salvia Divinorum are the most accessible Entheogens. Psychoactives like Cannabis Sativa (THC)doesn't induce an intense transmission compared to psychedelics. Psychoactives communicate by 'inspiring' the individual with thoughts, rarely with mild visions. Either way, both communicate at a very personal level.

Be advised to be cautious when experimenting with Entheogens. Try to be calm during the experience as it can be overwhelming. Meditate on the passed knowledge to fully understand the message.

Do what is best for you.

Sometimes i find it hard to conceal the tempest raging inside my head.
A maelstrom of mystifying thoughts and words.
It isn't necessary to petition the Lord.
Do what is best for you.
Maybe I'm too arrogant to get a clue.
Know the importance of asking important questions.
There aren't any wise men left to settle these inquisitions.

Gods of Man

Buddha if you may,
Allah is the cay.
Yahweh you might say,
Jesus isn't coming today.
Brahman, Vishnu and Shiva,
Dance your cosmic dance forever.

Let the ashes fall wherever they may

Let the ashes fall wherever they may, cux tomorrow you can't touch today.

Wish Sincerely.

Be careful for what you wish for, it just might come true sooner than you think.

This is a very controversial idea, but i'm sure we all have experienced it. Wishes do manifest. It does come true, more often than you asked for. So how does it work?

The idea is once a person sincerely wishes for something it somehow manifest and therefore, the wish is granted, per se. The question is how can an intangible thought becomes something tangible? 

It all comes down to Energy. Everything is made of Energy. An idea or a thought is formed by a series of actions generated by energy. The product of all these activities is Will. Mind you, energy can't be destroyed. It's merely transformed into something else. In this case, the wishes are manifested into the world. Transmitted, if you will, to make it happen. Every event is created by an idea or a Will. Without an idea no event will surely come into existence. I realize this is quite a novelty theory. 

The psychological argument can't be dismissed. It suggests that if someone sincerely wish for something, the person will unconsciously strive to achieve it. Simply, the person who makes the wish makes the wish come true by unconsciously walking the path to achieve it. It does makes sense. 


The trick in both arguments hinges on being sincere in wanting the wish. This sincerity is surely the key to make the wishes come true. Either by helping to transmit the thought as an Energy or that unconscious Will to make it happen.

So don't stop wishing. Just be sure you are sincere when you do.

The Window

The window frames a curious world, 

A world that juxtaposes chaos and order.

A world divided by imaginary borders.

A world governed by deluded hoarders.

From my window I watch the madness unfold.

As I sat, the sky darkened with promise of rain.

It grumbled at the world below as if to complain.

The wind carried its sympathetic wail with uncontrollable tears of pain.

I remained awkwardly at the window,

feeling guilty and wishing I have finally gone insane.

The green inhabitants danced shamelessly with evident glee.

I guess one's sadness is another's happiness.

At least they are decent enough to show their weakness.

I witnessed all these from the window that opened to a sordid world of bliss and misery.

The old man on the pavement.

There sat an old man on the pavement with his back against a poster covered wall of faces we love to hate. His bony arms rested on his bony knees. His bony fingers held a curiously unlit bidi. I noticed his closed eyes as I approached to walk past him. I wondered what may be flickering behind those wrinkled eyelids.

"Got a light?" he creaked. Eyes still closed.

"...yeh.. sure.." I croaked. my mind still reeling as I fished out a lighter from my pocket.

"There you go." I reached down to light his curiously unlit bidi. His bony hand moved and one end of the bidi found his lips lost somewhere beneath a bushy mustache and beard. Took a massive toke that inflated his lungs to it's probable limit. A massive toke that his ribcage gave out a pop. Exhaled a smoky mammoth's tusks thru his nostrils.

"You are late", the geezer wheezed.

I instinctively looked around thinking he was talking to someone else.

"..what..?!" I asked realizing he 'might' be talking to me.

"Deaf too" now laughing and coughing up smoke like a bloody chimney. I wasn't thrilled. I just stood there like a fucken idiot wondering if I should walk away or acknowledge his first observation. I chose the latter of course, and chose my words carefully to dodge another ridiculous hysteria at my expense.

"Sorry brother, I came here as fast as I could" I smiled thinking I made a clever comeback.

“Yes. Yes. You certainly did,” snickered the old man as he wiped a tear with his bony finger. “Better late than never. Come, sit with me” patting the pavement beside him.

“err.. I’m sorry, I can’t”, I waved. “I have to get going, you see.”

“No you don’t”, he puffed his bidi. “Come, sit for a smoke and then you can be on your way.” 

"Thanks, but I seriously can't"

"I seriously think you can" he looked up at me. That was the first time he opened his eyes. Those eyes, as black as a raven scrapping its black beak on a black headstone.  I found myself gravitating deeper into the mofo's blackhole eyes. Strangely I found them intriguing and absurdly familiar.

"Don't look so surprised, my boy", he reached behind his ear and held up a Bidi to me. "it's only for a bidi."

Yeh, yeh just for a bidi.

fuck! did I say that out aloud?!?

"Nope." he threw another hysteric fit. "Come, now." I took the bidi from his bony fingers as I sat down next to him, still fixated. "Now fire it up and relax." I did as I was told. A familiar calmness washed over me.

There I  sat on the dusty pavement with my back against the poster covered wall of faces I love to hate, slowly losing to a mind-game of a strange old man.

"Did you know you live a life that's not your own?" he asked in a matter of fact tone. Personally I hate questions that begins with a 'Did you know', I puffed the bidi. "What do you mean?" I was obliged to break the awkward silence.

"Did you know the world looks different from this perspective?" he asked.

"I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but what's up with the twenty questions?", I bitched.

"Did you know you listen to only what you want to hear?", he smirked.

This guy is unbelievable, I thought. "Did you know your questions are frustratingly obscure and unhelpful?", I bitched again. "You tell me."

"Yes." he blinked.

"Yes?! Yes to what?"

"Yes to all the questions", and he blinked thereby.

"Yeeeahhh.. that's great." I wasn't amused and neither was he. Everybody is a sidewalk philosopher these days.