Introduction, 1/1/2010: Om - The Call to Adventure

Hello, and welcome. I am a human and my name is… well, I’m going to be calling myself Gene Om. I picked this name because of its allusion to both the human gene and the sound that some say emanates from that very life source. To quote Joseph Campbell:

“If you want to hear AUM, just cover your ears and you’ll hear it. Of course, what you are hearing is the blood in the capillaries, but it’s AUM: Ah—waking consciousness; ou—dream consciousness; and then, mmm—the realm of deep, dreamless sleep. AUM is the sound of the radiance of God. This is the most mysterious and important thing to understand, but once you get the idea, it’s very simple.”

And so, this human who will be calling himself Gene Om is beginning a project... and here it is: the very words that you are reading. There's much more to it than just these words, but that will all start to take shape soon enough.

Back to the title of this thing, though - not bad, huh? I certainly was full of pride for my cleverness when I thought up this pun-ny double-entendre. And that was before I’d even read the Campbell quote. I’m being a little bit self-mocking here, but in all seriousness the name of this blog feels like the name that I’d been waiting for before I could move forward with a lot of things. Hopefully, that will make more sense as this all progresses.

So today is the first day of 2010 and, like every other day, the first day of the rest of our lives. However, I don't think that old phrase has ever felt more real to me than it does today. Over the last three weeks I've been developing an idea for what I want to do with my life; an idea that will require me to sacrifice the safety and stability of a life of relative comfort in order to manifest a life of uncertainly and adventure.

And this is where it all begins, with these words.

I've already quoted Joseph Campbell, and not for nothing: My intention is put an end to living in submission: spending forty hours of every week doing something that I choose to do only so that I can make ends meet. I resolve to break free of this kind of life. I resolve to remake my life into The Hero's Journey.

This is not just a New Year's Resolution but my own Ultimate Resolution. I have many resolutions this New Year, and they all lead to this ultimate goal.

Making resolutions for the new year was never something that I really took seriously up until last year. Towards the end of 2008, a relationship that I had been in with a woman for eight years came to an end. Suddenly, the "we" perspective that had dominated my consciousness for so long was shed, and I was an "I" again.

As sad as it was, in many ways, to let go of something that had been so good for so long, I was also enormously excited to think of all the possibilities that lay before me. So, as 2009 approached, I began to make plans for what I wanted to do with myself in the new year.
While I didn't necessarily accomplish everything that I had hoped to in 2009, I definitely experienced a lot of growth and gathered some momentum. Before moving on into really describing what The Human Gene Om Project is all about, I do want to reflect upon the specifics of what I resolved to do last year and all that was done.

Alas, this will have to wait until the second day of this new year. As much as I had hoped to avoid vagueness with this first post, one of the practices that I adopted with my last set of New Year's Resolutions has got me feeling a little too tired for details at this late-ish hour. I'm speaking of the Master Cleanse. Today marked not only the beginning of the new year but also, for me, the beginning of a third consecutive seasonal cleanse.

I intend to continue this cleanse for at least 10 days, during which time my first priority will be to use this blog/diary (which is completely private, for now) to describe my plans in detail.
So, this vague introduction will have to suffice for now before we get into the meat-and-bones. But, I will mention one aspect of the plan now, because it is something that I need to set in motion as quickly as possible. While this is a blog, it is essentially a diary for the time being. A place for me to concretize my plan of action that will lead me from a life of stagnant comfort into a life of adventure.

However, I don't want my plans to be a total secret. An apprentice needs a master.
I've twice already mentioned Joseph Campbell, and so it won't come as a surprise to those familiar with him that I am hugely influenced by the theories and works of Carl Gustav Jung. As such, the first order of business for me is to find a Jungian psychologist who can analyze my plan, my dreams, and my neuroses (more on that later, believe me!)in order to help me get from where I am to where I intend to be.

In order to try to rope one in - because I have more in mind for my future analyst than simple analysis; finding someone who will collaborate in The Project is the real goal - I will move beyond the vagueness and include some meat in the form of a description of a series of dreams that I had a few nights ago. After all, dreams are meat for Jungian analysts - they are the marrow of consciousness. And, what's more, I'm fairly confident that the first of the three dreams that I documented is an example of what Jung would call a "big dream."

So, to close my first post, here it is:

12/30/09
6:00 am

Our car is parked at the side of a dirt road in a vast desert. I start to walk off the road and into the desert. Looking down at the ground, I see patterns – little patches of powdery yellow triangles (pollen?) evenly distributed across the dirt. Looking closer, I note that they are like a crumbly yellow foam-insulation type-thing*, and the ground looks sort of like an artificial surface – like a desert-floor version of Astroturf.

I look back at the car, which is maybe 50 yards away now. A couple of the others in my group (I believe my friend Leonard may be one of them) are still at the car and are about to join me in setting out into the desert. One or two others have already set out like I have, but they are a little ways away from me.

This desert is enormously vast. Looking in all directions, there is nothing one can see besides desert plains (and the road that our car is parked on), surrounded in the far distance by hills and mountains on all sides. Being in the middle of this beautiful, vast desert plain feels good – peaceful and relaxing. The sun is bright in a clear blue sky and there is nothing to obstruct the view in any direction.

A vulture flies towards us from a distance away and begins to circle around. I am not worried because I know that we are not in danger of dying – whether the bird thinks so or not. I shout to my friends by the car and point out the vulture. I joke about how it must be thinking that we are much worse-off than we really are.

Walking deeper into the desert, straight away from the car, I’m accompanied by perhaps three companions. I begin to throat-sing as we walk, but only keep it up briefly (It was in the Joshua Tree desert in late 2000 that I first stumbled upon my rough ability to throat-sing). One of the people walking in our group listens with interest – I think it is my friend Rhonda. Rhonda has a friend walking next to her who, she says, can also throat-sing. The friend is a girl, and when she starts to do it I am very impressed because it occurs to me that I don’t think I’ve ever heard a girl throat-singing before.

There is an albino owl in the sky now, circling above us; it seems to take an interest in us as we progress. At one point it positions itself right above our heads and starts to swoop down toward us. I jump up and down and start flailing my arms around to scare it off. The owl and I make eye contact and I can actually register, in its eyes, the fact that it is startled by my flailing. It swoops back upward and moves on. Throughout the time we are walking we occasionally see vultures and albino owls, but the mood remains peaceful and relaxed in this wide-open desert plain.

Eventually, we pass through some tall brush and there is a dirt road on the other side. Looking back at the brush, I encourage the others to stop for a minute. “How will we recognize what part of the brush we passed through in order to find our way back to the car?” I ask. We think about it for a moment (I think Leonard is part of the group again at this point), and then another guy who is with us says “Well, all we have to do is take the road all the way back around.” I notice that he has a British accent (He might be Nick, a guy from England - or was it New Zealand? – who I briefly knew in NYC. Nick had short, blond hair like the dream character did.). I also realize that he is right, that this is the same road that our car is parked on. Although taking the road will be a more circular route, it will get us back to where we started.

To my surprise, the desert is much more populated by humans here on the other side of the brush. While we were the only people in all of the vast openness of the desert before passing through the brush, there are all sorts of people power-walking and jogging on this part of the road – many of them in pairs. The power-walkers wear tracksuits, sunglasses, and white caps. The runners wear the standard lightweight shirts and short running shorts. They look like urbanites out for some exercise rather than people visiting nature.

Back on the other side of the brush, nearing where the car was parked, there is an encounter between two groups of people (I’m no longer with my original group – and although I am physically near these two groups of people I feel like I’m sort of outside of the situation). It seems that one group - having emerged from the road - are visitors to the desert while the other group – approaching the road from the dessert – are an indigenous tribe.

At first, the tribal group is stereotypically “tribal” in appearance, with spears and homemade clothing. This appearance may have returned sporadically, although I can’t quite remember. Most of the time, though, they basically look like the “visitors,” wearing t-shirts and pants. There is a moment of tension and anxiety between the two groups, but then it appears to dissipate in some unspoken understanding.

Members of the “tribe” begin to advance towards a young woman in the group of visitors. I wonder if they are going to rape her but everyone seems to be acting like whatever is happening is okay, and as a few of the tribal men put her on the ground she does not seem to be resisting. One of the men lies down on top of her. Clearly, one or more of the tribal men intends to have sex with her.

Then, the tribal group separates itself from one of their own - an attractive young woman who appears to be Aboriginal (as with the tribal people in general, her appearance vacillates between tribal and “ethnic” at times and more like the Caucasian “visitors” at other times). I realize that one of us (I am now with the “visitors”) is supposed to have sex with her now. This is why the other members of her tribe have all backed away from her.

Since I am attracted to her, I move towards her without hesitation so that no one else “beats me to” this experience. She looks happy that I have come to her without hesitation. I am glad that as I lay her down on the dessert floor she is not resisting. I want to be gentle and take care of this young girl and go slowly, so I begin by kissing her belly. She smiles and squirms in anticipation. But then a couple of the other “visitor” men tear off her shirt, and I realize that I am supposed to just have sex with her without a lot of delay.

We begin to have sex, and a lot of people are watching us but I realize that it doesn’t bother me. I sense from the other tribal members that she is a virgin, and that I am going to have to break her hymen. I believe that I even said to one of the tribal members “She is a virgin?” Then, I think, the tribal member nodded and I thought to myself something along the lines of “Oh, so I guess I have to go hard at first.”

So I knew that I was going to have to cause at least some pain for this girl. I began to thrust hard, and she seemed to be feeling both pleasure and pain. Finally, the “goal” was accomplished and after some painful moments for her we returned to our bliss. Then, for perhaps half of a minute, I became aware of my pelvic movements and aware that I was in bed, and that my two cats were sleeping next to me. Halfway in the dream and halfway awake, I continued my movements but managed not to wake up.

The next thing that I remember upon returning to the dream state was a different dream, but I’m going to be late for work so I’ll have to continue with that dream (with the aid of a few notes I jotted down) at work.

6:46am

9:00am (continued)

I’m in a large, dark room with the Etheric Bovine Arkestra and we are setting up to play a show.

I’m figuring out where to place my amplifier in my spot in the back of the room.

I try putting it on a low shelf that is part of some sort of wooden furniture-piece that has different levels, but there is not enough height in the space for it to fit. I decide to put it on top of the piece of furniture, which involves kind of heaving the amp up over my shoulders.
I’m not sure what transpired next, but when I return to my spot the amp is gone. I look all over the room for it and there are amps everywhere but none of them are mine. When I am sure that I have looked everywhere in the room and the amp is still missing, I go to talk to Christopher. He is at the front of the room, near the door, crouched down talking to some people who are sitting on the floor in what is the makeshift “audience” area. He is facing them, while the musicians set up their equipment behind him. The crowd will be just to the right against the wall if you are in the doorway facing the room, and most of the room will be taken up by the band and their instruments, which will be to the left; which goes back pretty deep, maybe 20 yards or so.

Anyway, I crouch down next to Christopher, who is busy talking. I say his name once to try to interrupt, but he is still having his conversation. I don’t want to be rude, so I wait for the conversation to finish. After he keeps talking for a minute, though, I decide that my amp-issue needs to be addressed. When I say his name and once again he does not reply, I tap him on the arm and he looks at me – showing slight annoyance at my persistent interruptions. I tell him that my amp is missing and we go out of the room to look into it.

We walk through a hallway into another room. The whole place is dark - or else painted black (or both) - and the building appears to be a large Warehouse of the kind you might find artists living in east of Downtown Los Angeles.

We start looking for my amp in this room. Christopher talks to some people who he thinks may have needed to move it for some reason, but we have no luck finding it. We need to get the show started, so I tell him that I will just do my throat-singing without amplification. I tell him that I probably won’t be heard but, what with all the other instruments (the Arkestra is quite large) and the other throat singer (Billy), it really shouldn’t make that much of a difference.

When we walk back into the first room, the performance has already started. The music starts out very minimally, but with Billy’s throat-singing being featured. I listen his throat-singing, trying to determine whether or not he is achieving the multi-toning that I think I may have heard him doing during our 2nd live-scoring of “Faust” and which I haven't yet accomplished. I am relieved (due to envy) to not hear multiple tones in his throat-singing, but both impressed and slightly disappointed when I realize that he is sustaining his notes for much longer than I am generally able – meaning that he must have really gotten good at the circular-breathing technique. I continue listening to Billy’s throat singing, feeling a complicated mix of envy and appreciation for his skill.

The next thing I can remember:

I’m running on a concrete path toward the beach. Although I’m getting tired and consider heading back before the intended halfway mark (the beach), I know that I am getting very close. I am still well-above sea-level, but soon the ocean comes into sight on the horizon and I know that I can make it to the intended mark.

I reach the end of the concrete path and jog down a flight of concrete stairs. The stairs lead to a street that ends at the beach just a few yards to my right once I am down from the stairs. To my left, the street slopes up steeply.

There are quite a few people gathered in small groups in a large area between the beach, the top of the hill, and the two sides of the street. Some of them are beach-bum-looking guys: stubbly-faced with long, stringy, dirty-looking hair. They are sitting in front of the bike path to the right, facing the hill. There are also a bunch of people seated on the concrete and asphalt on the slopes of the hill.

Everyone is facing a guy on the opposite side of the street from where I have descended – some sort of a crazy street-preacher. I’m not sure whether any of these people are buying into what he is preaching, but they are all watching him. I get the feeling that they all suspect that he is crazy although no one is being outwardly derisive towards him or trying to interrupt. He looks like he is probably homeless and is wearing some sort of white, lightweight robe.

I walk up the slope to my left – across the street from the preacher – where there is a tall girl with short, dark hair. An uncovered litter box is next to her feet. We start talking about the litter box. We decide that she will come back with me to my place – something to do with the litter and maybe my cats or something. I think that this might be a date, although I’m not really thinking about it too much. This whole last bit is very abstract compared to most of the rest of this three-dream sequence, which has been very clearly defined and realistic for the most part.

Upon waking, I realize that this girl who I was speaking with at the end of the last dream is Farrah – a friend of Rhonda’s (who was in the first part of the dream) from her Humboldt State days, and whom she now lives with in the Northwest. I saw the two of them in June while visiting my brother up there on a road trip (and while I was doing my first seasonal Master Cleanse… I’m about to start my 3rd tomorrow).

I lay in bed, knowing that I had just had some powerful dreams and trying to recall the details. Once I could remember most of what happened in the three dreams, I considered whether or not to get out of my warm bed and into the cold to type them into my computer.

I decided to just get up and jot down a few notes to assist me in writing the complete version later. After that, I returned to bed with the hope of either falling back to sleep or remembering more details of the dreams by lying down in the same position that I had been dreaming in.

I mostly had the image of the first dream in my mind - specifically the beginning of the dream with that awe-inspiring, vast desert plain and bright blue sky that was so clear and beautiful in the unobstructed sunshine. With my mind wandering in this image, I entered a hypnogogic state and saw the character of Jim from the Office at one end of the sky, speaking about his relationship to Pam, and how great it was. It was as if this talk of a good, healthy relationship was being juxtaposed with the good, healthy, happy feeling of the vast desert of my dream (I really need to take a trip to Joshua Tree or Niland again soon). It occurred to me that this first part of the first dream might represent in some way my relationship with Gabrielle – the majority of which was good, healthy, and happy.

Then I thought of the owls and the vultures. Both in dreams and in life, vultures symbolize death. The vultures and the owls were acknowledged, but not feared, in that first dream. In fact - and as mentioned – I had even gone so far as to jump in the air and flail my arms around to scare off the owl.

As I lay there thinking about these dream-birds, I remembered that strange mystical night that I spent hanging out with my old friend Elgin (Brad was also there...Lewis too?) about 12 years ago during which we climbed atop a building adjacent to the Wayfarer’s Chapel (AKA “The Glass Church”) in Palos Verdes. I had managed to reach into a window that was above, and behind, the alter and grab a long, white flower of some sort. As we started to leave – but while still up on another part of the roof - we saw an albino owl perched in a nearby tree. Upon seeing us, he lit up into the sky, showing his impressive wingspan and remarkable white plumage.

Driving back from the church, down PV Boulevard and a couple of miles away from where this all had taken place,I suddenly had to slow down due to the fact that an albino owl had landed in the middle of the street and was effectively blocking the car. As we were coming to a halt, the owl flew away once again. Before it did, I distinctly remember that it made eye-contact with me – just as the albino owl in the dream did when I was flailing my arms to scare it off.
We were convinced that the owl in the street had to be the same owl from the tree by the church – how many albino owls could be in that area? – and half-joked that it was trying to reclaim the white flower that we had stolen.

Later in the night, after recording ourselves singing and playing percussion on the park equipment at Rocketship Park, we drove past a dead raccoon in the road and decided to turn around and have a memorial for it there in the street in the middle of the night. Brad and Elgin and I (and Lewis?) took turns speaking in honor of the raccoon and connecting the events of the night to this last one in whatever way we understood it at the time.

When we left, some people who had driven past us in a large pickup truck while we were memorializing the raccoon followed us through the streets for awhile. We joked that they had probably seen us speaking over the dead raccoon and thought that we were performing some sort of Satanic ritual. Quite a strange night.

Anyway, I wasn't recalling this entire story as I lay there thinking of the albino owl from my dream. What I did think about was Elgin – who was schizophrenic and committed suicide a few months after that night by hanging himself in a drainage pipe beneath the streets of the Colorado city he was residing in at the time. There is another really unsettling connection between that night and his suicide, but all I was thinking about as I lay there was the white owl and Elgin. Clearly it would not be a stretch – considering this autobiographical tidbit – to think that the albino owl in my dream would represent death every bit as much as the vulture.

So, as I think about it now, I ponder the idea of death hovering overhead during every moment of life – even happy times such as during a thriving romantic relationship. Maybe the dream was saying that during such times the fear of death is eliminated… it hovers above you and you are aware of it, but you jump in the air flapping your arms and shouting “Go away, you dumb bird, I am ALIVE and you don’t scare me!”

Just a thought.

Lying there, however, I was thinking of it all more literally… thinking about the people in my dream like Leonard and Rhonda and Farrah and having some mild concern that the images of death were some sort of a portent. I doubt it though. It seems more likely that my current philosophy – or something along those lines - was being reflected back to me. My dreams rarely seem to echo the future much, at least in my current understanding of them. Usually at least, they seem to just be messages about the archetypal energies that are informing my life at the moment.

*(2pm): I kept trying to remember where, in real-life, I had seen this crumbly, powdery yellow foam-like substance before. It seemed like something from childhood. I think that it was the foam that was inside the vinyl booths that surrounded the kitchen table in my parents place when I grew up. There had been some holes in the vinyl that I think may have revealed this substance, but I can’t remember for sure if this is it. And, if that is what I saw in my dream, I have no idea what the significance would be.

**One more note: The dream image of a sloped-street near a beach is starting to become a familiar theme in my dreams. I can only specifically think of one other dream that contained this location - a powerful dream involving Tabitha’s Mom and a Godhead in the sky that absorbed me into it - from early-on in my Summer cleanse, but I feel like it may have appeared in more than just these two dreams. In both dreams the hill and the beach made it resemble the hill leading down to the plaza on Pier Ave. in Hermosa Beach – a place where I spent a lot of time in my late teens through my move to NYC at the age of 22. I’ll have to take note to see if this dream-environment starts to reoccur.

After having these dreams, taking the time to lie in bed and remember as many details as I could, and writing them all down completely and with as much clarity as I could, I went through the rest of the day feeling empowered and whole.

In the days leading up to these dreams, I had spent much of my time thinking about, and working out the details of, The Human Gene Om Project; So I can't help but think that this "big dream" has something to do with the project. I am really looking forward to finding out how it all ties together as this adventure begins.