Freshly Sprouted

Spirit Molecule documentary Australian tour

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Undergrowth.org  and Entheogenesis Australis   present the 2010 Spirit Molecule documentary Australian tour, with screenings across the country in December followed by talks with the writer/director Mitch Schultz. Tickets are AUD $23/20 concession, and advance bookings are recommended.

All tickets sold through www.greentix.com.au  see dates and links below.


Red Tailed Black Cockatoos

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Red Tailed Black Cockatoos

Red Tailed Black Cockatoos

Image by Gerhard Hillmann


MERCURY > a poetry anthology by SI

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MERCURY is a new anthology of poems by Melbourne poet Si.

Launched in 2009, the book was toured to the National Young Writers Festival, Emerging Writers Festival (VIC) and West End Street Festival. In May 2010 it will be launched at WORDSTORM NT in Darwin as part of 'Tales From The Undergrowth' at Happy Yess.

Below is an excerpt from the book.


MAPPING ME > A Landscape of Women's Stories > CALL FOR ARTISTS

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 MAPPING ME > A LANDSCAPE OF WOMEN ARTISTS

Call for Artists We are currently seeking creative writing and art submissions from women writers and visual artists for a new anthology project titled, "Mapping Me, a Landscape of Women's Stories." By asking the fundamental question “Who am I?” this book will explore the complexities and connections – the invisible threads - between women in various cultures, generations and walks of life. Poetry, prose, essays and interviews, sketches, photography, paintings are welcome.

For submission guidelines and a detailed synopsis of the project visit: http://www.mapping-me.blogspot.com/


cloud-e-scape

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cloud-e-scape

Cloud-e-scape
by Gerhard Hillmann


Evolver Spore: The Future of Psychedelics

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A lecture given on March 17, 2010 to the Sydney cell of the Evolver network (www.evolver.net) as part of its community "spore" discussion on the future of psychedelics. In which experiential journalist Rak Razam discusses the state of psychedelic culture, where it came from in modern times with the advent of LSD in 1943, the legacy of alchemist Albert Hofmann, and why the psychedelic movement is so important to a sustainable future. Acid opened the mind in the 60s, ecstasy opened the heart in the 80s, and in the 21st century ayahuasca and entheogenic plant sacraments are opening the soul of the West, guiding us back to a cooperative Gaian partnership. As the "second wave of ayahuasca shamanism" sweeps the world in a slo-mo r-evolution, the psychedelic movement is reaching out to the elder indigenous cultures around the world to bridge the gap of our own psychic and spiritual understanding, and is becoming a global entheogenic movement. Can this new wave reach a critical mass of its own understanding, as well as a purity of intent to truly be ready to join the galactic community? Join Razam and the Evolver community to find out...


eleven's picture

"Time-ism" or Father Christmas Does Exist

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 St. Nick

Santa Clause does exist. He exists in the Fourth Century, in the area that is now northern Turkey, under the name of Saint Nicholas. To say that he doesn’t exist is a lie, as much of a lie as saying he has magic reindeers and a home in present day North Pole.

   The obvious rebuttal is to say he existed—not exists—in the past tense. My argument is that this is not more truthful, just more ‘our-own-time-centric’. Biased, in other words, like a metaphysical prejudice. Saint Nicholas does exist in that time and place. Being biased towards our own time and place is closed-minded, and leads to illusion and even violence. A case in point: somebody once said that the world is flat, based on the fact that no one in his own time could prove that it was round. Somebody could prove it, of course, in the future. But some notable people went to prison or were tortured, or killed, because they did not cater to the time-bias (shall I say ‘timeism’?). Giordano Bruno, I hear, is being burned at the stake in 1590 for affirming the Earth's motion around the sun.


eleven's picture

The Punch Line; the unifying principle.

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puchline as unifying principle

   

  JOKES usually have three main parts to them. Here is an example:

Buddha walks into a pizza restaurant and says, ‘Make me one with everything.’


Silent Echo

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Silent Echo

Cosmovision – an Aya Odyssey

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The following is an excerpt from Aya: A Shamanic Odyssey now available from Icaro Publishing.

 

"The vine has spread her tendrils across the world and a genuine archaic revival was underway. My bags were packed; South America beckoned, and the ancient mysteries of the rainforest awaited. I wanted in on it..."

 

Iquitos, Wednesday July 5th., 2006

IQUITOS IS ELECTRIC WITH NOONDAY HUMIDITY as Vance, John and I wade through the horde of locals hustling trinkets outside the Parthenon gates and join the other ayahuasca gringos amassing by the pool. It's Bowman's birthday -- he's twenty-four today -- and drinking with Guillermo is going to be his present.

We're waiting for Alexis, a blond, twenty-ish dude from Washington D.C. who's going to help translate the interview with Guillermo I've lined up. Alexis is a Princeton dropout who's backpacking around on a spiritual path, drinking ayahuasca with shamans and asking critical questions to deepen his own understanding. He's drunk with Guillermo four times now, and calls him "a fucking Jedi." When he turns up an hour late, wearing a Corey Feldman School of the Arts t-shirt, I know he'll fit right in with our media crew.

Vance wants to get out to the Espiritu de Anaconda, Guillermo's ayahuasca retreat to take some shots before we lose the afternoon light, so we pile into two motorcarros and speed away from the front of the Hotel Parthenon before the touristos bus has even arrived. But our motorcarros get bogged down on the dirt road turnoff from Km 14, a long undulating strip of mud from recent rains, and we get out to walk. The local villagers are busy building a concrete footpath to run from the highway past their village and towards the ayahuasca retreat a few miles in, and part of me wonders if this will facilitate t-shirt and refreshment stalls springing up wherever the gringos go, like mushrooms after a fresh rain.


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