Franklin LaVoie
Franklin LaVoie Artwork Sacred Geography Buffalo-Niagara 13th Age
Ancient of Days
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Friday, December 7, 2012
The Serpent Mound points to the cusp of Piscis and Aquarius.
This is like the holy grail; it demonstrates our arrival at the moment in
eternity when we are free to choose. The eternally present Now. The sun solar
image represents the vesica, and the womb of sky, and the triangle represent
the crown of sky and the agni-crown biocosmic ladder. The serpent swallows the
initiate and the initiate dissolves to enter the "otherworld" of the
emotional body, accessing serpent kundalini's pineal gland's moleculer jet fuel
for astral travel. Two destinations above and below: Plieades and Hu Nob Ku.
The serpent's gland mirrors the triangle's shape, across the "egg".
It is both inside the serpent's head, and simultaneously outside the serpent's
head. A biocosmic journey through the serpent ladder, inside and outside our
heads. A fractal universe and an internal dimension accessed with the
assistance of the emotional and sensory nervous system, by distracting the
frontal lobes temporarily, allowing the sensory systems current to reverse,
causing the serpent ladder to swallow the initiate, and begin the cosmic
adventure beyond lifetimes, in the biocosmic temple. The access bridge is an emotional roller
coaster, but its ultimately a psychological paradigm in which loving kindness,
respect, and gentle speech, and quick to forgive self and others. These are the keys to the Kingdom, I left the
light on for you.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Chariots of the Gods O Black King is Killed
Chariots of the Gods O Black King is Killed
The King of Hearts in
the crosshair’s way
His lady carried his
body to lay
The Black King was killed
The Country ablaze
The Chariots of the Gods
Entered the fray
They shattered the ceiling
And shook all the hay
Crossed the divide by night and by day.
Osiris now dead. Later Horus done away
His Chariot down and no one can say
Then Gog and Magog melt or shatter to dust
So nobody minds now if the war is unjust
Treasures are looted, blind daggers are thrust
Our chain is unbroken and drags on the muster
Of mothers and sons who'll pick-up the costs
Of running machines on the blood of our host
While a sun burns inside her, old mother looks grim
What to suppose of her sun within?
The day is at hand and we’re rooting for him
He’s already landed;
the back way slipped in.
So the chariots of fire will soon begin
to ferry us back to
the old times when,
the temple girls weren’t
ascending.
The chariots of fire were tending to inspire
The whole holy host from the lowest to the higher
Give me a dose, sittin' by the fire and hear what
the women are playing.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Chuk is the Grandfather of Sports. Lessons from the Ball Court.
One of the four
themes in‘Olympic Medicine’, found in Cultural
Anxiety, by Lopez Pedraza , is the consciousness of ‘fault’. I have not read this book; although I am
familiar with the gist of it The
consciousness of ‘fault’ makes me think
of “the grandfather of sports” CHUK (pronounced like a “chunk”of foam.) This quasi-sport was a spiritual practice in
disguise. It started spontaneously; but,
It was my second and third acid “trips” in late December,
in1973, with the High School “jocks”
that I laughed with,, who were my friends. I initiated the Chuk one night in the Fall,
when everyone looked burned out and lethargic,
but I wanted action. I was inspired by
some vague notion of a Native American sport, I couldn’t rightly say what it
was called. Thus keeping a piece of foam rubber in motion, without contaminating the practice
with obtuse rules, nor appointing losers. I lobbied hard and long to maintain
Chuk in its pure state, without rules. People constantly tried to modify the Chuk
with rules. In fact, the leitmotif: “Become
1 with the Chuk ”was the only rule. There were no rules, that was the first
precept. “Don’t say you’re sorry, because we aren’t
doing anything”, was the second precept.
Keep it going, don’t interrupt
the flow, was the third precept. Lastly, If ever the chuk, or somebody, appears
to do something nearly impossible, or after a particularly rewarding round of
chuking- applaud, in a gentlemanly fashion.
When you
have swooped down, spun around, swung your blind arm and caught the chuk, shooting it off the
wall, where it makes a wide arc, rolls slowly through space, connects with a
foot it, shoots across the room, you
dive across the room smack the Chuk sending it back, immediately its heading
back to the last corner, instantly you
jump like a cat, battling gravity for control of the chuk, and taking control you pass it it with a
precise smack, slowing it down. The Chuk
moves at lightning speed off the
ceiling, off the floor, off of you. The
key is to concentrate on the chuk. Eventually the “state of Chuk” is entered into.
The state of Chuk hasmany names. It’s
been called the flow, the zone, runner’s
high; it is a higher state of awareness;
but more than that, it is a higher state of being, probably closely related to
the primordial condition of human beings, the instinctual animal humanWho was
not a lout, more like a dancer.
There is a transformational state that
occurs when your concentration becomes one with the chuk. Conscious awareness supersedes the tyranny of the linguistic mode, and the
anxieties attendant upon discourse. Allowing
the motor cortex to feed on energy exchanged in the hunt for the Chuk . The state of Chuk reminds me of the movie Highlander, when the
immortals undergo a rite of passage, called “the quickening”, in which their powers
increase amidst a storm of electro-magnetic sparks , and much wailing. Chuk accelerates reflex time, and develops
the motor cortex. Very importantly, our attention
is free from the winner-loser anxiety, so
awfully common among people. Chuk was a
collective Win-all-around. The state of
Chuk was the prize. The evening of
December 31 1973, Chuk was recovered from the breast of eternity. That night myself and two others took 3 and
1/3 hits of mescaline and played Chuk in my basement long into the wee hours of
the morn. We entered an alternative
universe, very close to our own, one in which we were both particle and
wave. We leapt and hurled and twirled ourselves
after the Chuk and occassionaly when it would get stuck on the ceiling light,
or jam itself into the corner of the ceiling, we froze, and spontaneously applauded
politely. A wild man sport of uttermost integrity. We put our hearts into that round after
round. We’d smoke the calabash, and resume. While in the throes of Chuk, verbalizations erupted like bird talk, or
short grunts which raised our hilarity to a crescendo. The sense of freedom was
indescribable. The freedom from the
anxiety attendant on winner-loser gamesmanship, gave Chukits well deserved
title: “the grandfather of sports”. Chuk
is a transcendental path that we
discovered by chance. When I “became one”
with the Chuk, I re-organized the
hyperspherical dimensions of this universe that I am in, that I am. Our bodies were still three dimensional, but
the single pointed concentration was a one-dimensional paradox; one dimensional
consciousness, absolutely pristine awareness.
I can still achieve this single pointed concentration simply by
imagining the Chuk is about to be dropped into play. The mark of Chuk, you know
you are getting close when people start spontaneously laughing, even though,
theoretically we aren’t doing anything. .
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Dragons in Her Mist. I saw an apparition of the mighty Niagara's Dragon at the foot of the American Falls as I painted this scene. It was a simulacra that appeared in the torrential thundering mist and waterfalls. In the distance a second dragon apparition appeared in a vertical ascent. The sky depicts the City of Light as an ideal image, appearing through an atmospheric lens, the lighthouse links Buffalo's City Hall to the Pharos Lighthouse of Alexandria and the goddess Isis.
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