Codename California was conceived shortly after my father passed in July 2019, three days after the release show for The Lonesome Side of Town. While preparing for his memorial, we sorted through old photos, and I was surprised when my mom handed me one, saying, “Look, here I am pregnant with you in Los Angeles.”

I was born in Houston and had no idea my mom was four months pregnant with me when the family left California in 1971. Their time there had always held a mythic quality in my imagination. Growing up, my parents and sisters would reminisce about Tommy’s Hamburgers, Dodger games, and days at the beach. Those memories came to shine brightly for me, as if they were my own. So imagine my surprise to learn I had lived there too—albeit in utero.

Some say we’re invisibly tied to where we’re conceived or born. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’ve felt drawn to Los Angeles my whole life. I was born in Texas—but my journey began in California.

After the memorial, I toured the central US. One afternoon, at a BBQ in Kansas City, I was struck with the idea to create a record centered around California—or rather, resident with it. On one level, I wanted to explore the sounds, tunings, and instrumentation of the late ’60s Laurel Canyon scene, which shaped so much of the era’s music. But on a deeper, more numinous level, California became a stand-in for something I couldn’t quite name. It felt like a placeholder for Teilhard de Chardin’s “Point Omega”—that unseen attractor pulling us forward as our clumsy steps try to make sense of this life.

You see, at that point, I’d lost my way. My voice on the last record didn’t sound like mine. The songs didn’t feel like mine. Something had shifted, but I didn’t know what. All I knew was that things had been feeling more and more off—and the album starting to take shape in me seemed to be reaching for a way back—or maybe a way forward. The concept was vague, and not strictly musical. So I gave it a name—Codename California.

I stepped away from music after that tour, and soon after, COVID-19 took hold and everyone stepped away for a while. With the world in turmoil, I moved to Vancouver Island to let things settle. I figured time away from my home in Ann Arbor, Michigan, might offer some perspective.

On the way to the island, I stopped in Los Angeles. I wanted to “close the loop,” so to speak—to return to the place it all began and begin anew. I rented a small place in Laurel Canyon and found deep peace there. Though I was unsettled by the contrast I witnessed—encampments of unhoused people lining the roads on the way in, set against the extraordinary wealth of the Hollywood Hills. And then, above the bed in my Airbnb, a large barbed wire crucifix.

Amidst the tremendous peace, those elements agitated me. I felt like I had to do something with the feeling, so I began to write—and the music began to flow, as if it had been waiting there for my arrival.

When I returned from the island eight months later, I rented another place in California, one themed in the 1960s, complete with egg chairs and orange shag. I had limited recording gear with me but managed to cut the core guitars and vocals for the title track before returning to Michigan and completing my nine-month trip.

Codename California became an exercise in rediscovering my musical voice, reconnecting to authenticity, and finding my way back to the center—to the eye of the storm, the only place in this reality capable of offering us peace. The journey is lifelong, and the destination imagined, I know. But life feels lighter now, and there’s a quiet excitement in me about what might come next. It’s a marked improvement over the space I was inhabiting that afternoon in Kansas City. I’m calling it a win.

CD orders of CNC are shipping now, and the album will release digitally on October 24th! Follow this link to preorder/presave the album.

I truly hope you enjoy listening to Codename California as much as I enjoyed making it.

Thanks for listening!

Ed

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

Hi Friends,

My new single, Box of Lonely Men, has arrived — the first from my upcoming album Codename California. 

The song found me sitting alone at a bar one evening. I glanced up toward the lovely bartender and noticed that every seat around me was taken by a single guy, just like me — a phone in one hand, a drink in the other — each of us forming a link in a quiet chain of masculinity that framed her, alone behind the bar with only her charm and drink-making skills to defend herself.

It felt a bit funny, a bit pathetic, and somehow both heartwarming and heartbreaking. I opened my notes app and started writing lyrics.

That was the beginning.

It’s been a while since I released something new. This one grabbed a special place in my heart, and I worked hard to get it right. I hope it finds a place in yours too.

Check out Box of Lonely Men here:

🎧 Listen

📺 Watch

Thanks for listening!

Ed

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

I'm reaching out with a quick update on what's ahead for me musically. It’s fair to say I’ve been “under wraps” for a few years when it comes to performing or releasing music. But despite outward appearances, music has been moving just beneath the surface. Here’s what’s happening …

A New Record

I've been working on writing around a theme, more or less, since 2019 and recording along the way. The recording process began to accelerate towards the end of 2023, working both in my Lava Lounge home studio and at Mackinaw Harvest with Michael Crittenden in Grand Rapids. I don’t have a release date yet, but I can say that the record is getting close to being done musically. How do you release a record nowadays anyway?

A New Band

In addition to my solo writing and recording, I've been making music with a group of talented Michigan musicians, including Caroline Barlow of The North Carolines, and Tony Pace/Daniel Andrews, formerly of Cold Tone Harvest. We're calling ourselves Lucky 17 and have been engaged in finding our sound throughout the past few months. It's been a very cool process, with lots of good vibes that I trust will shine through our music. We recently recorded a song called "New Heart" that will be included on an upcoming benefit album from I Understand Love Heals. I Understand Love Heals is a non-profit organization that works on behalf of those struggling with mental health issues.

You can learn more about them here:

https://www.iunderstandloveheals.org/

Also, you can hear a preview of "New Heart" here:

https://youtu.be/Np_vwlvqqQo

Playing Live Once Again

I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but Michigan has seemed warmer of late. So too goes my inner climate. I find myself thawing from a long winter of writing and feeling the itch to perform again, both solo and with Lucky 17.

Check out my upcoming shows here!

Blogging

Readers of My Non-Linear Life can expect to see some new content in the near future. The state of the world in recent years—not to mention my own personal journey—has kept me from releasing new music and blog posts. However, with all the changes happening around us, I feel a strong desire to help shift the focus away from the negative aspects of the modern world. This is not to say that everything happening is uplifting, but to highlight that there are seeds of positivity germinating. It seems like a very good time to bring such things into focus!

Stay tuned! I’ll be in touch soon!

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

The phrase “may you live in interesting times” may sound like well wishing, but it is typically delivered ironically. In recent months we’ve had the opportunity to learn first hand why it is no blessing at all to live in “interesting” times. The Chinese expression "better to be a dog in times of tranquility than a human in times of chaos” hits the sentiment squarely on the nose.

As has been the case for many musicians I know, the abundance of free time I’ve had in recent months has not been matched by an abundance of creative output. Early 2020 found me pacing the hardwood floors in my kitchen with guitar in hand, as I tend to do. Winter has always been a creative season for me, and I had begun writing a song called This Old Heart and was considering how to finish it … and then the world changed. “Not with a bang, but with a whimper.”

When the pandemic arrived I found that my creative energy had disappeared. Whatever inspiration had been driving this new composition was long gone. In truth, it was difficult at times to remember the person I was or what “normal” life used to feel like. I imagine this is something many of you can resonate with. When a few months had passed, This Old Heart began to call to me again. I’m not sure what it was that drew me back to the song, but I put pen to paper and found that the tune was completed quickly.

In finishing the song I took a new direction, one more in keeping with the events unfolding both inside of me and outside my door. The song is unique in this way, having been conceived in the world as it used to be, and delivered into this strange new world we are learning to navigate together.

I’m aware that my music has not always been the most happy and hopeful, and without a doubt my last release, The Lonesome Side of Town, struck a distinctively sorrowful and melancholic tone. I own that. That was its purpose after all. But I found myself given to reflection upon reading a review of the record which stated, “One thing is clear. This is a sad, sad man.”

The comment caused me to step back and consider my place carefully. I’ve willingly owned the come cry with me moniker, believing that songs of pain have an ability to get down low and meet people where they are at, in the places they are hurting. I know this from personal experience, having been drawn to painful songs as a listener, and I’m fairly sure I have a few left in me. Still, I wondered what it would be like to write from a different space, and whether finding a different musical voice might help me find such perspective within my own life?

The jury is still out on that score, but I am hopeful. If you’d like to give This Old Heart a listen you can find it here, and digital copies are available for purchase on Bandcamp.

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

The Lonesome Side of Town was approached differently from my other records. On previous albums I performed in a recording studio with a band around me, all songs being tracked live. In making Lonesome, Michael and I agreed that I would record my parts at my home studio in Ann Arbor, while he worked at Mackinaw Harvest in Grand Rapids. We planned to work this way unless we felt a song was better served by tracking together at Mackinaw Harvest studios, as was the case with It All Sounds Like Leaving and State of the Nation.

Working as we did, I experienced much of the process alone. Michael and I would meet occasionally for sessions, but this was the exception rather than the rule. We constructed the record in this fashion, exchanging files at a distance. Michael had never worked in this way before, and I was thankful he was willing to do it. Production took longer than our initial estimates forecast, but that’s where I was at, I needed time this time around. Michael seemed to get that intuitively and was willing to let the pace of things unfold organically (i.e. “slowly”). My gratitude for this fact cannot be overstated.

In the winter of 2018, well before the project’s kick-off, my friend Tony Pace stopped by my home studio, and together we explored some of the ideas I was still working out for the record. Performances from that night’s session can be heard on The Things I Miss and Just For Two, on which Tony plays lap steel and dobro guitar respectively.

The Lonesome Side of Town is my third studio album, which is an auspicious number. The “rule of three”, or "omne trium perfectum" as it is known in Latin, is a principle suggesting good things arrive in threes. Perhaps there is some truth to this, as three proved to be a common number throughout the writing and production of Lonesome.

Three bass players played on The Lonesome Side of Town. James Simonson performed on The Lonesome Side Of Town, Both Hands on the Wheel, and Hypnotized, Chuck Bartels performed on It All Sounds Like Leaving and State of the Nation, and Daniel Ozzie Andrews performed all six remaining songs. Each player was chosen for their unique approach to the instrument and how well it fit with the songs, and all three players knocked it out of the park.

As with the bass, three pedal steel players also performed on the album. Both Nelson Wood and Drew Howard performed on The Lonesome Side of Town and Lonely. Drew Howard additionally performed on Both Hands On the Wheel, It Tears the Heart Right Out of Me, and State of the Nation, playing pedal steel and slide as well as electric guitar. Lastly, Justin Schipper recorded pedal steel on It All Sounds Like Leaving remotely from Nashville, Tennessee. I must admit, I have something of an unhealthy obsession with pedal steel, and I was really, really pleased with the final result this team of talented players delivered.

Michael Crittenden performed throughout the record as well, playing all banjo, mandolin, and organ parts, as well as piano, and both acoustic and electric guitar. Of special note is his doubled Stratocaster solo on Love Me Right. Cool.

Lastly, Chris Ranney, who is not just a friend and church owner, but a formidable musician in his own right, plays piano on Both Hands On the Wheel. Both Hands is a special song to me, and Chris treated it as such. The man’s got a gift.

Once all the mixes were in place, Michael suggested Pete Lyman at Infrasonic Sound to master the record. This was a pleasant twist for me, given that Pete has mastered many records which have been personally influential to me in recent years. Fate smiled and Pete agreed to take on the project, working his magic he brought both the bass to life and the space of the church into focus. He gave the record the depth and space it needed.

Both Robin Scully, who worked as project photographer, and Annie Capps, who did the design work, practiced diligence and patience with me as I floundered about on matters of album art. I decided early this time around that I would be on the cover of the record. That decision began a long and sometimes stressful process of not knowing - or perhaps not being able to express - what I wanted the cover to look like. At the 11th hour I realized what the problem was. I needed to not be on the cover of the record. It wasn’t working, for whatever reason. It took me months to see this clearly, however, once I let go of the idea of being on the cover, it was a mere five minutes till a quirky image of a trailer revealed itself in a Creative Commons photo search.   

When making a record, I inevitably notice certain signatures that are part and parcel of the project - patterns or happenings that seem unique to that record - as if each album comes with its own set of lessons it has to teach. For its part, Lonesome had me getting in my own way, or rather, learning how not to be. The record seemed to want me to see reality clearly, even when reality didn’t match up with the way I thought things should be. There’s no better example of this than the songs themselves, which came more slowly, and were less accessible as compared to previous experiences. 

The album originally featured twelve songs, whereas it now contains eleven. I circled for months trying different song orders in an attempt to reach a cohesive feel, but there was a particular song which didn’t sit right. I tracked the tune multiple times, but something always something felt off. In the end I removed the song from the record, and things quickly balanced themselves. It was addition via subtraction, and all ended well. But it took me a long, long time to get there, as was so typical of this record. The song was called The Last Thing.

When all is said and done, The Lonesome Side Of Town is a collection of songs that bear witness to a time of tremendous personal change in my life. Its songs testify to both the steadfastness of love, as well as its departure. Hopefully, the record serves to communicate the lessons, the struggle, and the beauty to be found in all of it.

You can pick up your copy of The Lonesome Side of Town here!

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

In releasing one’s loyalty to that which they consider the “winning side”, a new found freedom is obtained, a freedom to seek truth in everything, not just the so-called right thing. Once a person crosses the Rubicon in this regard, they are able to access vistas denied to those who would pursue knowledge in just one way. Like everything in this life, walking such a path is an ongoing practice. If one follows such a course long enough, things which once looked radically different, in time, may come to look eerily similar.

Quantum physics thus reveals a basic oneness of the universe. -Edwin Schrodinger

Truth is one; the wise call it by many names. - Hindu scripture from the Rig Veda

It is truly amazing, the design nature pours into every aspect of reality. Our universe orders itself out of chaos in the most elegant and magnificent of ways, and yet, as humans, we seem largely unaware of this process, as well as our place squarely in the middle of it all.

Such ideas were all but ignored within my education. I was in my thirties when I first learned of the golden ratio, Phi, while reading The Da Vinci Code. I assumed the concept to be pure fiction, as I’d heard criticisms of the book which claimed it pushed the boundaries of truth. Perhaps such criticisms are accurate, but I was nearly apoplectic when a quick google search revealed that Phi is actually a thing. I still remember the question which popped in my head, “how is it that I got through 12 grades and college and no one thought to mention that reality conforms a pattern of design?”

In that moment, the so-called “golden ratio” seemed like the single most relevant piece of information I’d ever learned about, and yet, my educational institutions had deemed it unworthy of discussion. As the years have passed, I have maintained a healthy curiosity regarding the natural world, exploring through both media and direct immersion. As my journey has unfolded, I have come to embrace the fact that my life is just as much a part of the ordered universe as is a tree or a mountain. After all, Phi explains the segments of my skeletal frame just as well as it does the segments of a tree branch.

Over time I came to wonder if everything about my life was meant to conform to an aspect of natural order, even my thoughts and habits. Could it be possible that consciousness itself obeyed such dictates, I wondered. In time, this scenario came to seem less implausible. After all, if we inhabit a system that operates according to fractal rules, and everything about our lives is contained within that system …

In both modern science and mystic tradition, a radically altered vision of existence is described. In science, we find that beneath the solid matter with which we interact exists a surprising lack of solidity. When subjected to the unbiased lens of observation, our lives and all our interactions are revealed to root in a field of mind-like potential. So too in spirituality, the seeker is time and again directed to commune with the unity underlying this illusory existence. If one reflects upon the nature of physical reality long enough, a strange interaction seems to reveal itself, as if the physical and the nonphysical are locked in an inseparable dance - physicality resembling a kind of skin formed around an energetic tree. As energy flows, that which we call physicality dances on its surface, like moss rippling with the movements of water.

For my part, my life began to radically change when I started experimenting with the idea that this “energetic tree” obeys certain rules, conforming to an inherent design. I came to see myself as part of this grand process - as opposed to someone who interacts with it as an external observer. In time, I began to picture reality as a whole, a system which seeks to organize its constituents, including me. The difference between a human and flower, for instance, is that a human has free will, the ability to approach life in any way deemed desirable.

As I considered life in this new way, I began to see emotions, sensations, and intuitions as guides, the means by which we receive feedback regarding the state of our “alignment” within the larger design. I wondered if my negative experiences were simply indications pointing me to places that needed changing, things I ought to approach differently - frictions that illuminated the rough edges still in need of smoothing.

Now, with a few years past, my “experiment” continues, and likely will throughout my remaining days. It has not been an easy road, yet, in other ways, this change in perspective has made all the difference in the world. In coming to view life this way, suffering and pain have ceased to appear random or punitive, but rather, exist as indicators, as the inevitable consequence of misalignment within the fundamental nature of reality - the shape it wants to take. In other words, nature expects us to play the game according to certain rules, and not doing so comes at a cost.

In one sense, this seems akin to predestination, as if our lives are meant to inhabit specific grooves or assume a strict form. It may be more accurate to say, however, that what we do is largely irrelevant as compared to the way in which we do it. Seen in this way, reality has no preference in what a person does, but cares greatly about what a person is.

Such a perspective change is deceptively radical, its truth deeply elusive, and difficult to admit in my case. In considering my own path, I feel my largest barriers have been the assumptions I’ve made about my own standing within reality. As people and as a species, there is an inherent belief that we are properly centered in our thoughts, that we alone are exercising sanity within a chaotic and unpredictable universe. The moment my life truly began to change was the moment I understood this assumption to be way off-base. I didn’t have things right at all, I was off in the weeds completely, and had been so for my entire life, as far as I could tell. It wasn’t that life was unfair, it was that I had been seeing it all wrong, believing it ought to be some way other than the way it is.

Predictably, the actions I took based on such beliefs did not achieve their desired ends. And yet, I continued to take the same actions, playing the victim when life handed me the same results. As if walking repeatedly into a wall and then blaming the wall for getting in my way. Reality, as it turns out, exists as that which does not budge, no matter what configuration we take in the face of it. The insanity I suffered from, therefore, was that I believed myself to be sane within a chaotic universe, when all the while it was my mind that was chaotic, having strayed so far from the natural flow of things that the flow itself became unrecognizable to me.

In the end, I had no choice but to relinquish my insistence that reality conform to the shape of my assumptions, and begin releasing old ways of thinking. In doing so, I practiced mailability, seeking a mind capable of inhabiting a more expansive paradigm, one beyond religions and nations, red states and blue states. Instead, I set my gaze upon a life rooted in nature and flow.

It was awkward at first, and I truly questioned my sanity at times, as I did not understand what was compelling me towards this strange way of “being” in the world. In adapting a new outlook, I learned to question popular cultural values, choosing instead to look long and hard at my life and how it was unfolding, what it was contributing. I took seriously the adage “be the change you want to see in the world.” As I changed, so did my life circumstances. In time, certain friends drifted away, while new ones floated into view. For a time, I felt like a castaway, as if marooned on an island of my own isolation. Yet, a part of me knew it was necessary, that there were things that needed to be addressed before I could “reintroduce” myself into the wild.

I’m not on that island any more. I can’t say with any certainty where I am, but I know I have left those shores. More and more, I feel a part of things. The same part of me that willingly rode out those years in isolation somehow knows that time is coming to a close. Where I will land I cannot say, but the journey continues. Till next time!

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

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]]>Ed DupasTue, 14 Aug 2018 19:03:57 +0000https://www.eddupas.com/blog-1/2018/8/14/a-few-words-regarding-my-arrival-at-the-place-from-which-i-started547ce7f7e4b01e59d39c69b4:562e7e0ce4b044fa77cebf27:5b72f38acd836696e59d9ffeHello readers of this strange and eclectic thread. I’m checking in to share a little about why this blog has fallen silent of late. Rest assured, there is no crisis responsible, nothing untoward has taken place. Although the headlines we read are consistently negative, in my life at least, things are feeling alright.

Perhaps this “alright” feeling is responsible for my decline in blog writing of late. As I am fond of saying, these blogs have largely been created for me. They have served as a way of organizing thoughts and perspectives cohesively while trying to make sense of a sudden and unexpected perspective shift which occurred in my life a few years ago. In this way, blogging has acted as a kind of integration tool for me. Although I will ceaselessly evolve as I live out my days, some of my more recent blogs represent the crossing of an important boundary for me, an arrival of sorts, a coming home (or at least a good start).

In one of my most recent blogs, I share the story of a personal epiphany that took place in my life not too long ago. It is no coincidence that my writing slowed soon afterwards, as the event was something of a watershed moment for me. Following this occurrence, I have noticed a steadily growing feeling of freedom. This hard-won liberation has brought with it a sense of normalcy, as if returning to my old self, albeit as a greatly changed person.

As my father has said to me on more than one occasion, there are are some things you can fix on a car while the engine is running, and there are things that require you to shut it down and open the hood. The analogy fits well with last few years of my life, a time in which I sought much needed answers and began learning to create peace within myself. It is a work in progress, but I have found that peace lives in every moment, if one is willing to find it there. This is easier said than done, yet, it is a way of life that becomes more natural with practice. Now, having closed the hood and once again fired up the engine, I find that my hunger for searching has abated, and I am once again being drawn towards music. 

These days I am spending much more time with guitar in hand, working through songs, and joyfully losing myself in the process, as I have done throughout so much of my life. It is a welcome and familiar feeling to be sure, and although I am glad to be finding my way back to music, I am aware that the work I’ve done in the last few years was wholly necessary to sustaining myself as I move forward. Standing here, with my feet on reasonably solid ground, I notice I am not looking quite as deeply these days, not seeking so feverishly. I judge this to be a good thing, and frankly, I needed the rest.

Besides, there is work to be done. I have officially begun work on my third studio record, tentatively titled The Lonesome Side Of Town. While it is true that the last few years found me inwardly focused and withdrawn, songs still managed to show up here and there. It’s funny, I don’t even remember how many of them came to be written, but they did. 

In direct contrast to my last record, these new songs arrived well ahead of their time, as complete mysteries. I found myself writing tunes I judged to be good, but with no energy or motivation to play them, as if they were under-ripened somehow. The truth of the matter is that I was the under-ripened one. My intuition on the matter was to “write them and put them ‘in the can’”, so that’s what I did.

Every once in a while I'd pick up my guitar and I’d try to play some of the new stuff, but things always felt off, as if I didn’t have the right voice for these new songs. So, time and again, I stepped back from them and reminded myself that this music arrived in my life, and that such things are not accidental. Although I could not yet fathom or perform much of the new material, I knew that someday I would, and that it could not be rushed. It would simply happen with time and growth. I suppose this could have be experienced as a source of frustration, but to me, it kind of took the pressure off. 

When I’d ruminate on the new songs and my troubles with them, my strong sense was that they required an ingredient that could not be faked: joy. Admittedly, I lost the joy of music in recent years - an all too familiar story among musicians. However, I had a growing sense that once I reclaimed this feeling in my life, the new songs would begin to take wing.

Now, having begun to find my way back to music and it’s innate bliss, I am learning to understand and embrace many of these new songs, and the time to create a “record” of their performance is quickly approaching. In some ways, this feels a chore. Although it is nice to make my exit from darkness and isolation, I understand that these songs tell the story of that period in my life - my time I spent on “the lonesome side of town.” It seems that for me to understand these new songs, I first had to emerge from the darkness and begin to understand its purpose in my life as well. 

This being the case, it is something of a labor to see these songs through - to continue to “hold space” for that which is a product of a time in my life that I am ready to put behind me. Still, this is how the process works, at least in my experience. I’ve found this to be the most magical and mysterious aspect of art. One pours their feelings into a creation, and then releases that creation into the world, and in doing so frees oneself from the feelings that gave rise the creation in the first place. It is indeed magical, a kind of alchemy. 

Although making a record represents an incredible effort, I will not be alone in the process. I will be working with a gifted producer and talented players, and doing things a little differently than they have been done on my previous releases. It will be an interesting journey watching these songs take shape. I know they have a number of surprises still in store for me, things they have yet to reveal.

Regardless of the daunting nature of the task ahead, I feel ready to move on to what comes next for me, and therefore ready to release those things I’ve carried for far too long in this life. This being the case, straight ahead is the only direction in which to travel. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last few years, it's that there’s no use going in reverse or trying to take the long way around a thing, the way forward leads right down the middle … straight through the heart. Till next time. 

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

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]]>Ed DupasWed, 16 May 2018 17:52:19 +0000https://www.eddupas.com/blog-1/2018/5/16/some-brief-thoughts-on-utopia-dystopia-and-everything-in-between547ce7f7e4b01e59d39c69b4:562e7e0ce4b044fa77cebf27:5afc3f67aa4a994bbee1038eLooking at the world around me, I witness a great deal of sadness, stress, and confusion regarding life in the modern age. As time continues its forward march, what remains of our utopian hopes seems to be fading, while our dystopian fears appear to be realizing a steady crescendo. Gone are the rallying cries of a "shining beacon on a hill", as day-to-day we find ourselves inundated by messages of fear and inevitable decline. As this process unfolds, we find ourselves beginning to question life on a grander scale, at times wondering what hope there is for us to find in a world spinning out of control. I maintain, as always, that there is hope to be found in reason, should we choose to embody it. In considering utopianism vs dystopianism, reason has something very simple to tell us, and given the state of the world around us, I find it to be an optimistic message.

In considering the concepts of utopianism and dystopianism, it is interesting to examine how the differing ideas are held within the collective mind of humanity. Should one Google these opposing concepts, they will find these definitions at the top of the list. 

Here we see that the two ideas exist at opposite ends of a social spectrum, with Utopia representing society perfected, and Dystopia its antithesis. However, we see something more reflected here, while the definition of utopianism includes the opinion that such notions are “unrealistic”, the definition of dystopianism does not. It seems standard practice to label Utopian viewpoints as idealistic or overly optimistic, yet we seldom read about how Dystopian beliefs are unrealistically pessimistic. Why is this the case? In examining these ideas, we see that they are bookends which serve to frame the entire spectrum of societal conduct, neither one more real or imagined than the other, so why is it that we tend towards a Dystopian bias? 

In my last blog, I discussed Leonard Cohen’s song Anthem and how there seems to be a crack in every aspect of reality we experience, an exception to every rule - how the concept of static perfection seems to fundamentally violate the nature of this evolving reality, as it is always changing its shape, always striving to be something other than it is today. If this is truly the case, so too must there exist a crack in Utopia. It may be sad to consider, but any paradigm which promises perfection is a flawed paradigm, it is only reasonable to arrive at this conclusion. Yet, in holding notions of perfection to be false by definition, we are in turn compelled to release false notions of imperfection, accepting that nothing can be perfectly imperfect. In other words, when we dispense with Utopia as a valid state of existence, so too must we dispense with Dystopia. If we hold one end of the spectrum to be a false paradigm, we must apply the same attributes to the other end as well.

In releasing ourselves from false notions of Utopia and Dystopia as achievable societal states, we free ourselves to find a deeper relationship with these concepts, holding them not as fantasized locations within reality that we may one day stumble into, but rather, as archetypal magnets that tug at our better nature. In doing so, we find ourselves free to once again take up the mantle of utopianism, seeing it not as a path to some mythological place in which we may one day reside, but as an intention via which we may approach life. In pursuing utopianism, we do not engage in fantasy, but rather, we hold to the hope that while tomorrow the world will not be perfect, it can be a little better than it is today. 

In holding this altered perspective, we free ourselves to find perfection within the imperfect, to find peace in a purposeful process of upwards evolution, as opposed to futility in the pursuit of an unattainable destination. When we release our minds from static notions of life, we detach ourselves from the inner critic who would hold us to unreasonable standards. By taking this step, we choose to seek not perfection, but that which serves us better than what came before, revealing Utopia and Dystopia to be not destinations, but rather, directions via which we may set our course, within both our inner world, and the society in which we live. 

Till next time!

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

Although deep inner work is not an easy ask, my own journey afforded me no reasonable alternatives, so little by little, I began to question my life circumstances and the role I played in them. In setting out to investigate my own mind and body, I started at the beginning, erasing all assumptions. Throughout the process, I found science an essential aid, as it provided me with reasonable, empirically tested theories, which gave me perspective regarding events as they unfolded in my life. Although I don’t regard science as means to an ultimate answer regarding my experience of reality, I have found it an indispensable tool for grounding oneself, especially in the face of unreasonable experiences. 

Reality, as we experience it, begins at our senses. While it is a common belief that we have five senses, the true number is thought to be somewhere between 9 and 21. In a universe constructed of pure information, our senses act as data input systems, and when sensory data reaches the brain, it is integrated into our ongoing “stream” of consciousness. If the workings of human consciousness were drawn out as a flowchart, this integration point would be the spot labeled “miracle happens here”.

In receiving data from our senses, the brain performs a kind of synthesis, weaving the various data streams into a 3-dimensional reality. This is the world we experience and interact with - life as we know it. Strange as it may be to consider, reality is shown to us as a series of still images, akin to frames in a movie reel - the folks who study these things often refer to these frames as “bings”. Bings arrive at a rate of roughly 30-80 per second and, just as in a movie theater, when images are presented to us with sufficient speed, persistence of vision creates the illusion of motion.

In his song, Anthem, Leonard Cohen penned the much quoted lyric, “there’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” Aside from being an inspired bit of writing, I have noticed that the idea he expresses seems to hold up in everything I observe - there seems to be an irreal element within every aspect of reality, a "crack". I will likely write more about this someday, but for the time being, I’m watching the phenomenon, as I am not quite sure what to make of it, or perhaps how to convey it understandably. Suffice to say, our brains presentation of reality also has cracks in it, circumstances in which its “normal” presentation breaks down, and reality fails to maintain its integrity.

As an example, we witness a crack in reality when looking out the window of a moving car and observing the hubcap of a passing vehicle acting strangely. In one moment, the hubcap appears to be spinning normally, and in the next, it begins to slow, before briefly stopping and continuing in the opposite direction. This phenomenon takes place when the rotation of the passing vehicle’s wheel approaches the frame rate with which our brain is generating bings, creating a bizarre effect. It is a small thing, but it illustrates that even within the most mundane of circumstances, we experience the irreal - there’s a crack in everything.

My mind reels when grappling with these odd findings regarding the nature of our reality, yet, science is simply validating ancient spiritual truths, empirically verifying the Buddhist notion of world as illusion, or "Maya", as Hindus refer to it.

Turning from the scientific to the spiritual, we find that gurus have long expressed the secret to living a blissful life as "being okay with what shows up." At first blush, this seems an oversimplification, or perhaps uselessly vague. Yet, when looking through the lens of science, we see that life truly arrives in slices, like playing cards slid to us across a poker table. A frame is shown to us, and we react to it. Another frame is shown to us, and we react once more. This, in a nutshell, is the fundamental nature of reality as we currently understand it. Knowing this to be the case, we find that happiness or sadness, as we experience them, are nothing more than the sum of our individual reactions, laid out over time. 

Put another way, the data our senses receive isn’t good or bad, it is data, and as such, it is neutral by nature. Knowing this, we can deduce that the happiness or sadness we experience is being created by us, by our beliefs and identifications, our attitudes and agreements, and a host of unconscious programs that run in our mind. In short, we own our reactions, completely. We can blame others all we want, but in the end, we own our reactions. In fact, they are the only thing we truly own.

Yes, we live in troubled times, and many experience dire circumstances, a fact that should be on the forefront of our minds as we seek to heal the world around us. But in the now - the moment of reaction - there are no victims, there are only frames and reactions. If we don’t enjoy the reactions we’re having, it does no good to place blame elsewhere, as they are our reactions. Inserting our conscious will into this ongoing process is the essence of mindfulness - not meditating in a monastery, or sweating in a yoga studio, but assessing the stories our minds are whispering to us and questioning the legitimacy of them.

A couple weeks ago, I came to realize something about my own reactions to life as it is presented to me. Early one evening, as I prepared to do yoga, I felt a pang of guilt and self-judgement regarding something small, and in that moment, from nowhere, a question arose in me. 

“Do you really believe that any state of consciousness is better or worse than another in this reality?” 

I didn’t.

Reflecting on the question, I began to examine this self-judgement and the resulting negativity it had evoked in me. In that moment, for no reason in particular, I saw myself as a child on a winter's night in Canada, standing by an outdoor ice rink, dressed in hockey gear. I noticed that the child felt the exact same way as I did in that very moment. All at once, it became clear to me ... I had been telling myself this guilty story my entire life, engaging in the same pattern of reaction.

Now frozen in place, I searched deeper into my memory, traveling as far back as I could recall. I witnessed the part this pattern had played in my ongoing experience of reality, the familiar feelings of unworthiness and self-judgement it animated. It had always been there, traveling with me as if a beloved companion. More importantly, I saw that it was completely useless - it benefited no one, nor was it perceptible to anyone but me, and yet, I had shared my life with it - creating it again and again, moment to moment, reaction to reaction.

The realization floored me. It was like noticing that I had been driving with the emergency-brake on for my entire life. In that moment, as I experienced a full understanding of the situation, my linear, software-developer side erupted spontaneously, and two words emerged involuntarily from my mouth. “It’s inefficient!” 

Just like that, I came to understand that I didn’t have to feel bad. I understood that reacting in such ways serves no purpose but to diminish my own experience of reality. Yet, somehow, it was more than that. In witnessing the inefficiency of the pattern I’d been inhabiting, I wasn’t simply free to stop exercising self-judgement, I was obligated to stop. It didn’t serve me. It never had. I had been playing the role of dutiful servant to a meaningless cause, lost in a story I’d learned by heart long, long ago, and never thought to question.

In observing our own stories and identifications, we do more than take up the mantle of healing in a turbulent world, we seek to free ourselves from the turbulence which rages within us. We learn, in time, to forgive ourselves, and so too, the world around us.

Wayne Dyer said, “If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” My mother sent me a card with this quote on it many years ago, during a difficult period in my life. The card featured a man in an inverted yoga posture, silouetted against the rising sun, his world turned upside down. That card sat on my kitchen counter for a long, long time. I knew there was wisdom in the message it delivered, but it was beyond my grasp. Now, with many years passed and much water gone under the bridge, I can’t say what happened to that card. Yet, the message remains. Somehow, with the passage of time, it has come to live in me. Not just as a pleasant sentiment, but as a verifiable statement regarding the nature of this bizarre reality we inhabit together, and yet alone.

Till next time!  

In our nation, the negative aspects of identity are everywhere. In considering our country's history, we see that people's ability to put personal differences aside and unite behind a greater democratic ideal is the very thing that has allowed this political experiment to work. In a generation, the United States has transformed from a nation united by identity into one divided by it. There’s no need to delve into the current maladies afflicting our country, we all know the score, and to anyone who observes life with a sufficient measure of curiosity, our current national paralysis comes as little surprise. 

Within our representative system, we elect leaders: people charged with painting a vision of the way forward - setting a national rhythm to which we march as one, roughly speaking. These leaders stopped demonstrating compromise and commonality long ago, as if these matters were of no consequence. Put another way, our elected representatives lost the ability to see past their own personal and collective identifications. Now, a generation later, the poor example of these leaders has become a national way of life. 

Of course it’s not that simple, nothing ever is. There are many factors underlying the troubles which currently rage at our door, and convenient as it is to blame our leaders, their power to effect change is severely limited, just as it has always been. It’s a convenient game we humans play, tarring and feathering this person or that, creating scapegoats to serve as the singular symbol of all that is wrong at a given moment. Yet, our leaders can only wield the power we afford to them. Adolf Hitler epitomizes evil within the annals of history, but what could he have truly accomplished on his own? It took a large amount of agreement to empower the atrocities he wrought; a great deal of personal identification.

Kierkegaard said, “If you name me, you negate me”. In doing so, he illustrated that by labeling something as one thing in particular, you eliminate all the other things it could be. This is a subtle way of thinking perhaps, but within this subtlety exists tremendous opportunity, especially within the throes of our current national identity crisis. 

In considering personal identification, we find that the practice has a dangerous downside: to identify with a particular aspect of reality necessitates we push out wholeness. In one sense, this is a handy trick, as it allows us to practice empathy or project ourselves into another’s shoes. However, over time one tends to become mired in their identifications, in many cases, completely losing the ability to detach from them. Instead of a helpful tool for seeing alternative perspectives, identification becomes a means of self-definition, a way of presenting oneself to the world as this, and not that. The further one travels into their personal identifications, the harder it is to step back from them and take an honest look at the big picture.

Identification is an intellectual endeavor by nature, and the rigid social structures with which we identify ourselves in turn create rigid structures within our minds. Over time, these mental constructs act as barriers to us, both individually and collectively. Whether we know it or not, our thoughts are channeled by these constructs, like a stylus on a record, and over time we lose the ability to explore beyond these mental fences, as doing so awakens fear and insecurity. Our minds do not start from zero each time we have a thought, but instead, our thoughts are born out of all the thoughts that preceded them, informed and directed by our previous assumptions and agreements. These types of mental barriers give rise to statements such as, "that's just the way it is" and "because I said so."

Disidentification, by contrast, is a strangely non-intellectual process. Rather than engaging linear thinking to rationalize personal beliefs, disidentification requires an unconditional state of mind, an openness to ideas and opinions that may seem foreign or frightening to us. By willingly engaging in disidentification we allow these "boundaries of the mind" to be overrun, opting out of the collective push and pull, if only for a moment, in an attempt to reckon clearly.

By disidentifying with our basic assumptions, we afford ourselves the opportunity of knowing something greater, of creating space for a new way of seeing the world. This can be a harrowing process, as we find great security within our identities. Doubtless, this is why we created them in the first place. Yet, given all that we see around us, what choice do we have but to turn the lens back on ourselves and consider our own role in the collective drama unfolding? After all, of what protection are our certainties, if those very certainties serve to tear at the fabric of our social structure?

To be clear, I’m not suggesting one switch political parties to see what it feels like, but rather, pointing out that the practice of releasing our cherished viewpoints for a while may be beneficial. After all, how can we ever find peace with one another if we are incapable of understanding differing points of view? 

As Americans, we are now entrenched in something resembling a self-imposed national-headlock. It is a puzzle, no question. By what means do we begin to release ourselves from that which is self-imposed? I’m not sure there’s a collective answer, yet, as individuals we have the opportunity to question our personal identifications, to center our behavior in peaceful, productive conduct. Our leaders may not demonstrate this to us, but each of us exists as our own leader and, in the end, the only thing that matters is that which we demonstrate to ourselves, and thereby the rest of the world (our leaders included). Till next time!

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

In considering the matter of reality’s ultimate origin, it seems of fundamental importance to separate the notion of creation from that of creationism. In speaking of creation, we engage in an expansive discussion of the nature of our universe and how it proceeds. By contrast, creationism finds its roots in orthodoxy, taking the form of a fixed story.

For my part, I was raised within an orthodox belief system, and therefore, indoctrinated into creationism. As years passed, however, I ruminated on those beliefs, and eventually found it impossible to ignore a thread of irrational thought which permeates orthodox thinking by its very nature. This “thread of thought” to which I refer represents a fundamental flaw in orthodox thinking, and it is this flaw that drove me away from the religion of my upbringing.

In observing orthodox belief systems, we see that they are inflexible by nature and reliant on static thinking. Within the religion of my upbringing, for example,  it is accepted that at some point in the distant past humanity was able to communicate openly with God, but that the channel has long since been closed. This perspective gave rise to the canonization of holy scriptures which have remained unaltered for hundreds or thousands of years. As far as these belief systems are concerned, there are no more prophets, nor any circumstances under which scripture may be altered - save translations.

Similarly, many belief systems view creation as having taken place within a fixed window, once upon a time. In holding this view, the world is seen as an unchanging environment, one in which humanity exists separate from the deity of “God”, who is set apart, playing the role of a master clockmaker. From high upon his judgement seat, God tugs at strings and humankind’s fate is decided, or so the story goes. 

This type of thinking may seem innocuous at first blush, but over months, years, and centuries, it reveals itself to be a pervasive disease which expresses dangerous symptoms. The disease proceeds quite predictably: over time an indoctrinated mind becomes either unwilling or unable to process reality apart from orthodoxy. Furthermore, when reality is perceived to be in disagreement with orthodoxy, the mind in question disposes with reality in favor of orthodoxy. 

Predictably, trouble arises when orthodoxy seeks to canonize dynamic processes, such as evolution, stating that such things shall now and forever remain as they once were. Over time, the issues inherent in such canonization become self-evident, as great masses of the population engage in destructive behavior aimed at staving off the fear associated with admitting such belief systems to be falsehoods. Wars break out, neighbors are distrusted, and heretics are birthed. In this case, the word “heretic” may be considered as synonymous with one who openly speaks about aspects of reality which disagree with orthodoxy.

This type of thinking is prevalent throughout modern-day America, not only within the citizenry, but within our “leadership” as well. Consider what representative Tim Walberg said in regards to his lack of interest in environmental matters, “... I believe that there is a creator in God who is much bigger than us. And I’m confident that, if there’s a real problem, he can take care of it.”

In reading this quote, we see the symptoms of humanity’s central malady laid bare: the belief that something greater than us performed a kind of "magic" long, long ago, leaving us all here, helpless but to consider that fact. Should the need for further magic arise, surely this being will return and perform it once again. 

From this vantage point, we see that orthodoxy leaves us in a kind of jam: once a matter has been closed, so to speak, what is left for humanity to do but wait and see? However, if one views creation less literally, considering it not as an event that happened eons ago, but rather, as a process which has never stopped taking place, the picture changes dramatically.

The failing of certain widely-held belief systems is that they have sought to put creation - a word that some consider as synonymous with “God” - in a time-capsule, assigning static attributes and traits to a force that, from all we observe, proceeds dynamically. In just a few centuries, science has revealed a great deal about this dynamic flow, a reality which is undeniable and on full display within our fossil record. Viewed more soberly, what science calls evolution is nothing more than creation with the strings of creationism severed, and expressed over infinity, rather than in seven literal days.

The further we evolve as a species, the more we learn, and hence, the more care we are able to exercise in tweaking and tuning the belief systems which aid us in defining our values. As we seek to improve the values we hope to express in the world, so too must we improve the systems of belief which support them. Reason requires that we ask ourselves how humanity, an evolving species, can be properly served by belief systems which do not themselves evolve? 

Because many of our belief systems exhibit such inflexibility, humans subscribing to such systems are often forced to live in bubbles of their own making, going so far as to create their own media and news sources aimed at filtering out a reality less and less in keeping with their orthodox beliefs. It is this kind of thinking - or rather, unwillingness to think freely - which causes a person such as Tim Walberg to say such reckless things from the pulpit of power, or indeed, to reach elected office in the first place. I don’t think Mr. Walberg is a bad guy, only that he demonstrates irresponsibility in portraying himself as a thought-leader while openly subscribing to millenia-old thinking, and recommending we look to the sky for deliverance.  

Yet, science does indoctrinated believers no favors in its evolutionary stance, often offering dogma as a substitute for dogma, and painting the miracle of creation as a process of randomness, rather than one dogged in its adherence to finding elegance and design within chaos and disorder. We live in a fractal universe, after all, one which proceeds in ordered fashion by its very nature. However, science’s loudest voices routinely paint a cold and unwelcoming picture of nature and the creative process, defining it as one which proceeds via brutal competition: “nature, red in tooth and claw.” Science, at its most dogmatic, begins to feel like a religion, and the pursuit of science in this fashion is sometimes referred to as Scientism. Given its offerings, it is no wonder that humanity clings to belief systems which resist evolution, both literally and figuratively.

In describing science, I often refer to it as a discipline which deals with a cross-section of reality: that which may be measured. We commonly refer to this cross-section as physicality. In placing its focus on physicality, science has accomplished amazing things, and it is clear enough why some scientists argue that what cannot be measured does not matter. However, this appears to be an immature stance, a dogma that cheapens science and gives it an air of small-mindedness. After all, for science, having reached its own limitations, to declare anything beyond those limits to be irrelevant, seems self-serving.

As humans, we lose ourselves in the fragrance of a flowering plant, we fight to maintain our balance during fits of uncontrolled laughter, and we tear-up in the presence of selfless acts of love and charity. In truth, while we value physical comfort and safety, it is those things which resist measurement that we value most - it is the intangible which gives meaning to our lives. When seen from this perspective, science is understood to be an important partner on the journey, rather than a means to ultimate truth. Like the mind, science is an instrument which facilitates survival, yet, life is about much more than survival. 

In determining what role belief plays in our lives, it is a helpful exercise to contrast belief systems with systems of belief. Belief systems exist as static structures which name certain things as sacred, then seek to maintain a fixed, unchanging relationship with those things. A system of belief, by contrast, is dynamic and constitutes a set of modalities that may be reliably used to test reality, akin to the sonar ping on a submarine. 

While belief systems allow large numbers of people to agree on shared values, systems of belief assist individuals in curating personal ones. By employing systems of belief, we inhabit a pattern of “reality testing”, consistently seeking a more informed perspective as to whether or not what we believe still serves us. Such modalities allow the expression of our values to evolve along with us, assisting us in better understanding ourselves, and tailoring our viewpoints to better address present day needs.

I am not a person who is bothered by belief in God, although I see the word as one which has been “charged” by centuries of debate and dogma, and therefore choose to use it cautiously. I consider myself to be a person of reason as well as faith, and you’d be hard-pressed to find a person more sold on the notion of “higher power” than I am. Yet, for me this does not take the form of adherence to belief systems, but rather, exists as faith in a creative process that did not terminate some time in the distant past, but continues ad infinitum. In this sense, God is not a being who built a clock and set it into motion, but a process that slowly unfolds, one which we inhabit, one which opens into and through us. In this sense, we are creation.

For this reason, I don’t subscribe to the idea that God is a greater power poised to save humanity. Traditional wisdom states that, “the universe will never take you anywhere you’re not willing to go yourself”, and I resonate with such sentiments. Looked at in this way, God is not more powerful than humankind, but exactly as powerful as humankind. In other words, God can only express towards humanity that which humanity will express towards itself, as is the very nature of free will. This may seem a defeating notion given the current state of humankind on the planet, but I do not see it as such, but rather as a hopeful reminder of the potential inherent in each and every one of us, should we choose to set dogmas aside and embrace our creative role.

Humanity is but a child in evolutionary terms, a young species that has only recently appeared on the scene. As such, we should go easy on ourselves and one another, viewing our failings not as evil, but as immaturity: the predictable fits and starts of adolescence. Modern day humans are confused, and as such, the world is mired in infighting and irrational behavior. Yet, is it really so surprising to find ourselves in such a confused state, considering the options currently offered to humanity? On the one hand, religion offers values without reason, while on the other, science offers reason without values. Surely, there is a larger story we may eventually find together. Who knows, we may even surprise ourselves as to how well we get along when given the opportunity to align with a more satisfying, inclusive story. Till next time!

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

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]]>Ed DupasFri, 05 Jan 2018 17:25:47 +0000https://www.eddupas.com/blog-1/2018/1/2/sacred-rocks-sedona-how-my-westward-journey-came-full-circle547ce7f7e4b01e59d39c69b4:562e7e0ce4b044fa77cebf27:5a4bd1f524a694d32cf52642With minor exception, my recent blogs have dealt with my spring road trip out west. That discussion focused primarily on three days I spent at a metaphysical bed and breakfast called Sacred Rocks Sedona. Although I arrived at Sacred Rocks purely through happenstance, the place became the story of my trip. Upon arrival, I learned that one of the owners - an Ojibwa woman named Meaghan - offered healing sessions there, and I decided to take part in one. Throughout my stay, however, I was approached by other B&B guests about participating in additional ceremonies, so I obliged. On the first night, that took the form of a crystal bowl ceremony, and on the last morning, a medicine wheel ceremony.

On my final morning at Sacred Rocks, I awoke to intense sunlight and the sound of a black cat calling to me from beneath my trailer window, as had become tradition during my stay. With the temperature rising, I dispensed with formality, deciding to attend the morning’s ceremony wearing khaki shorts and a t-shirt (albeit one I deemed to be appropriately respectful). With my bags packed for a quick departure, I exited the trailer and headed past the main house to the medicine wheel.

Sacred Rocks’ medicine wheel is fairly large and sits opposite a large stupa. The red rock stupa was built by the previous property owners, who ran a Buddhist retreat center there. The wheel - which some might consider unspectacular at first glance - consists of many stones arranged to form a circle containing four spokes. At the wheel’s center is a square made from white stones, which contains a circle made from dark stones, in which sits a large, rose-quartz crystal. Interspersed throughout the circle are various other natural items likely deemed to hold some sort of healing significance: a crystal here, a unique stone there. 

When it comes to medicine wheels, looks are not the point. In Native American tradition, medicine wheels - when combined with ceremonial intention - are believed to hold healing power. 

In conducting their ceremonies, Native Americans navigate the wheel in a circular fashion, traditionally clockwise, or “sun-wise”. Movement is tailored in this way to facilitate alignment with natural forces.

Within a medicine wheel, the four directions (North, South, East, West) are recognized to hold special significance, and are sometimes represented by colors: white, red, black and yellow. These colors may represent the various human races, but may also be interpreted to hold other meanings, such as: the seasons, stages of life, or elements of nature. 

Arriving at the wheel, I was met by the two Australian “intuitives” I have mentioned in previous blogs. The women, also B&B guests, wore colorful dresses, and soon enough the three of us were joined by Meaghan, who would lead the morning ceremony. 

In getting underway, Meaghan began moving us clockwise around the circle, eventually stopping at each of the four directions to engage in a specific aspect of focus. At every stop, Meaghan asked us each to speak a little, to add our personal sentiments to the ceremony. While the Australians spoke quite freely, I was surprised at being asked to contribute, especially after spending so much of my time at Sacred Rocks as an observer. Although I was given four opportunities to contribute, I felt I should maintain as much silence as possible, so I limited myself to one word at each of the four stops: love, hope, faith, and peace.

Our clockwise trip around the circle completed, Meaghan led us into the wheel’s center via its east entrance.  When conducting a ceremony, tradition dictates that a medicine wheel be accessed from the East, the direction in which the Sun rises. Upon reaching the center of the wheel, Meaghan instructed us to get on our hands and knees in the dirt with our heads down, each of us aligned to one of the four cardinal directions.

Once on my hands and knees my mind began to wander, not because I was unfocused or uninterested, but because I was suddenly struck by how odd my present circumstance was. There I was, face down in the red desert dirt with three women, each one a psychic by trade -- somehow the thought of it made me smile helplessly. How had this happened? How had my departure from Michigan with no planned itinerary or destination led to this? I suppose something inside of me simply had to laugh, not because my position was ridiculous, but because life is marvelous in the way it can delight and surprise us, should we choose to let it.

Before leaving the wheel’s center, Meaghan instructed each of us to carry a pebble out with us. Exiting the same way we came in, Meaghan led us to the stupa, then spoke a few more words before instructing us to drop our pebbles through an opening in the top of the stupa and into its hollow center. Via this act, we released whatever we needed to let go of.

I found the medicine wheel ceremony to be a peaceful and grounding experience and, upon completion, I said my goodbyes and quickly took my leave of Sacred Rocks. On the road again, I departed Sedona, winding through red rock canyons. I began to notice that I was feeling better, having spent the previous three days in a strangely weak condition. As I continued to drive, I became aware that something else felt very different, it was my shoulder. I was suddenly noticing that it was no longer hurting like it had been, not even close. I couldn’t place it exactly, but there was something different about the shoulder in a very positive way. 

It is interesting, after months of working with my shoulder in yoga to mixed-effect, I was left feeling that something I couldn’t quite place was amiss, something deep. It seemed as if my shoulder hurt everywhere and nowhere at the same time, causing my neck and back to tighten and knot in response. Now, although I could not say what had changed, something seemed as differently right as it had previously seemed differently wrong. 

At first I was cautious about rushing to judgement and accepting that the shoulder was truly better than before my visit to Sacred Rocks, but as my trip continued, I found that the pain I’d been living with was greatly diminished, and that things like shoulder-checking, which had caused no end of discomfort on the drive out, were non-issues on the trip home.

Following my return to Michigan, I waited to see if my shoulder improvement would last or if it was only temporary. I was pleased to find that the improvement was permanent, and that although my shoulder was not completely free of pain, I was now able to work with in it yoga just like the rest of my body. Now, six months later, my shoulder pain is a fraction of what it was before departing on my trip. I no longer exercise caution when putting on a coat or performing daily tasks, and I have greatly widened my range of motion. Progress is slow, but there is progress where once the way was blocked, and so I proceed patiently, knowing that soon enough my shoulder and I will come to terms.

I have taken my time in writing this final Sacred Rocks blog. For some reason, in spite of my shoulder's tremendous improvement, it seemed as if I was somehow telling a story without a conclusion. I wasn’t sure why I felt this way, as the healing I experienced ought to have made for a decent story, all things considered. Yet, intuition does not lie, and something felt incomplete inside me, I could not deny it.

In an effort to shore things up, I did some research on medicine wheels, hoping the inclusion of some information on Native American tradition might round things out a little. Although I hadn't planned it, this endeavor retroactively provided me with a context for the ceremony I had taken part in on that final morning at Sacred Rocks so many months ago. What's more, in coming to understand the medicine wheel ceremony better, I came to realize something else, something that knocked me back a bit … something I’m not sure what to make of even as I find myself able to properly close out my story ...

I have previously written about my efforts to ritualize my meditative practice by including incense, candles, crystals, etc. Over time, I have landed on a certain way of doing these things, coming to inhabit patterns which feel right to me. In following my intuition, what was once experimentation has solidified into practice.

During a recent session, it occurred to me that my placement of crystals in four locations surrounding me very much resembled the configuration of a medicine wheel. I'd not known enough about medicine wheels previously to make such a connection, but the reading I did for this blog post had been enough to illuminate it. Although I was in a deep meditative state when this realization arrived, I jumped up to a standing position on my mat, almost reflexively, as if on the verge of understanding something I very much needed to. 

Standing there, I remembered that part of my practice involved removing my shoes and leaving them in a certain spot, always entering and exiting my meditation space from the same location. Reaching for my phone, I launched the compass application and, standing in the center of my mat, I began pointing the device at the various crystals. Each of my four crystals was oriented to one the four cardinal directions. My heart may well have skipped a beat at that point, but I ignored it and continued by turning and pointing the phone towards my shoes, the spot from which I enter and exit my meditation space ... the compass was definitive in its conclusion.

East. 

"It's a medicine wheel!", I exclaimed to myself ... perhaps even out loud. 

Of course I am aware that this might be a simple coincidence. It is well known that humans have a habit of finding patterns which suit them wherever they look. Yet, I had not simply found this pattern, I had created it. I did so by aligning with what felt right, by finding an arrangement with which my intuition agreed. 

In traveling West, I sought not only healing for the pain in my shoulder, but an explanation for my strange yogic experiences as well; I very much wanted to know what it was that I had gotten myself into. The journey had taken its own course, inexplicably leading me to the center of a medicine wheel in the red dirt of the Sedona desert - a mysterious grand finale - or so I thought.

Standing in my basement, phone in hand, I was dumbfounded. For all intents and purposes, I had constructed a rudimentary medicine wheel within my home and had been using it to heal myself (with much success might I add). In that moment, I understood that life had delivered the answers I sought, even if it had taken me six months to see it. My journey had not ended in the Sedona desert, it had followed after me until finally, standing there with a blank stare on my face, I understood. 

Where this leaves me now, I cannot say. Since that moment I have shied away from my practice, finding the whole thing to be a bit ... heavy. However, I can honestly report that while I consider myself an ardent servant of reason, my faith in magic remains firmly intact.

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

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When I woke on that last morning at Sacred Rocks, I felt ready for departure. Although my stay had provided much needed rest, it also required a level of stillness from which I felt ready to emerge. This is a something of a complex idea to expand upon, the notion of a situation requiring “stillness”. In searching for a better explanation, the word that comes to mind is transduction.

While riding through some interesting experiences in the last couple of years, I have taken a measure of comfort and guidance from a book titled The Exegesis of Philip K. Dick. Although many are unfamiliar with the life of Philip K. Dick, most are familiar with his work, whether they know it or not. Since his death in 1982, Dick has become one of literature's most celebrated Sci-Fi novelists. Many of his books have been turned into popular films, such as Blade Runner, Minority Report, and Total Recall. The Exegesis of Philip K. Dick differs from Phil's novels in that it was written in response to events that transpired in his life during the early seventies -- events he deemed to be of a mystic nature.

Although Dick continued writing novels following these strange events, his life had changed. He began witnessing a mysterious order in the world around him, and dedicated his nights to feverishly analyzing these experiences through the lens of science, philosophy, theology, etc. In reading his work, one might - at times - consider Phil to be mad, or perhaps suffering from delusions of grandeur. In the end, however, he always seems to check himself: going so far as to question his own sanity in the face of bizarre life circumstances -- something crazy people do not do. Once a person gets the feel of Phil’s exegesis, the work becomes quite endearing - assuming you're into that sort of thing - a fact that may explain the cult following it has amassed.

Phil’s exegesis is interesting in that it was never intended as a declaration of his truth; it was a private journal, in many ways, something he did not intend to share with the world. He believed the work to be of profound significance to humanity, but also that it would die with him. As far as he knew, it did.

Phil was writing for the sake of his own sanity, and I suppose that fact was something I could relate to for a time. Following his death in 1982, the voluminous work fell to his children, and eventually made its way to someone who knew Phil, an editor who took up the task of sorting through the many stacks of folders. In 2011, a 976-page book representing a small fraction of Dick’s exegises was finally published. The work bore the title: The Exegesis of Philip K. Dick.

In purchasing this exhaustive work, I opted for the 8-part, 56-hour, audiobook version. As I listened on long, cold, winter walks, I was amazed at the breadth and depth of Phil's knowledge, finding that Phil's exegesis helped me connect a great many things, in many cases saving me the effort of connecting them for myself. In time, however, the work served me in a greater way: as a warning.

As I listened, hour after hour, I began to witness a pattern in Phil’s exegeting. Time and again, he would reach an ultimate conclusion, only to toss it aside and begin anew. The text allowed me to observe how this action, over time, seemed to be an unhealthy aspect of Phil’s life. I suppose the Exegesis taught me the dangers of getting lost in one’s own mind, and for that, I am grateful.

Apart from serving as a warning, the exegesis provided me with possible explanations for some of the experiences I was personally dealing with. Philip K. Dick saw his experiences in a way that made sense to me, positing that he had altered his state being in some way, allowing him to transduce information in an abnormal – although not unnatural - fashion. The notion of transduction via the mind, body, or both, fascinated me, as well as provided an interesting explanation for many of my personal experiences, whether out in the world, on the yoga mat, or in songwriting.

In truth, interesting experiences have followed me my whole life. Among friends, I have something of a reputation for finding odd adventures, while my father has observed that I seem to live a “charmed life”. This is not a matter of coincidence in my mind, but concerns the state of a person's alignment with natural order. It is this phenomenon that is pointed to when uttering a statement such as, "you make your own luck."

Is this really so odd? Granted, it's not taught in elementary school, nor even college courses, as far as I'm aware. Yet, given the fractal nature of our universe, wouldn’t we expect our lives – when properly aligned - to exhibit some elements of patterned design?

It is a relatively simple notion: in my life, I have noticed that during the times I felt most energetically heightened – both positively and negatively – life seemed to show its hand in regard to design, with synchronicities appearing abundantly. Having observed this phenomenon throughout my adult years, I came to experiment with synchronicities, attempting to use them as a kind of “early warning system”, deducing that the appearance of overt design in physical reality was an indication that something was taking place non-physically, and that I should proceed with all due patience and care.

In the last few years, I have found myself passing through an unparalleled transition, a time in which patterned design seemed to be "going overboard" in regards to the life events I was experiencing -- to the degree that I no longer knew how to rationally manage events in real-time, given that they seemed to violate rationality as I’d been taught to understand it. In past blogs, I've discussed this crux in my life, describing it as the universe's invitation for me to "let go of the side of the pool".

In wresting with this conundrum, I figured there were two roads I could take. In taking the first, I could buy-in to these events: attribute value to them, labeling them as profoundly significant; as meaningful in and of themselves. By contrast, the second road involved releasing the events altogether: recognizing that while I was clearly passing through a significant time in my life, the events themselves were nothing more than byproducts and, as such, did not require any action or attention.

I chose the second road.

Yes, I was undergoing profound changes, both internally and externally, and the energies working within me did align with all sorts of wild synchronicities in my reality. But eventually I learned to view these events as little more than signals: indications that I was flirting with my natural state of being, rather than puzzles demanding a solution.

Synchronicities, as I came to view them, were akin to receiving a pat on the back. They did not require my participation, nor were they attempting to point me this way or that. I concluded that the existence of synchronicities in my life was evidence that I was already where I needed to be: that witnessing design within reality was nothing more than the feedback one might expect when living life in adherence to nature's fractal order. As I've written before: we are nature.

Having gained some clarity regarding the circumstances of my life, I began to avoid being drawn into highly charged moments and, instead, practiced observing them with whatever calm I could muster. I reasoned that the physical circumstances I was witnessing were illusory, secondary: a byproduct of the nonphysical. This belief freed me from involving my mind in events as they passed. If physicality was secondary, it meant I was not on the hook to do anything other than be in the moment, and let things happen as they needed to happen.

By the time I arrived at Sacred Rocks I was quite familiar with strange life events, and I had begun learning to allow their passage without the attribution of undue meaning. Hence, while my Sacred Rocks experience was rife with synchronicity, I chose to be with the experience rather than in the experience. I spent my time in stillness, desiring little more than to remain open to what may be happening non-physically. All the while, excusing circumstances that might violate my limited “rationality”, and doing my best to understand that life, as I have witnessed it, is capable of following a non-linear design that supersedes linear rationality.

Short-story long, I felt I was there to transduce. The why was irrelevant, by that point it was clear enough to me that my life was in the midst of significant transition, and that following without excessive analysis had proven an effective way of smoothing out the ride. Yet, as those who practice walking the "middle path" already know, non-doing isn't always as easy as its name implies. Even though my stay at Sacred Rocks was completely restful and afforded me every comfort, a malaise had overtaken me while there, as well as the onset of pronounced weakness. So, while I felt I was there to "take it easy", the stay was anything but, requiring ongoing intention: an inward focus on openness and acceptance. 

As to what exactly I was I being open to, I have no clue, and I may never know. Yet, I sensed that something was taking place during my time in the desert: perhaps a kind of alteration or transition, its presence betrayed by the bizarre physical circumstances surrounding me; each synchronicity, in its own way, acting to loosely frame the outline of some unseen narrative.

As I woke on that third morning, I knew my time at Sacred Rocks was coming to a close, and I greatly welcomed that fact. Yet, opening my eyes to the familiar sound of a small, black cat meowing in the red-dirt below my window, I also knew that I had one more obligation to fulfill: the medicine-wheel ceremony.

Till next time!

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

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]]>Ed DupasThu, 30 Nov 2017 20:09:26 +0000https://www.eddupas.com/blog-1/2017/11/29/sacred-rocks-sedona-an-exercise-in-balancing-reason-and-faith547ce7f7e4b01e59d39c69b4:562e7e0ce4b044fa77cebf27:5a1eb6bf4192021369b0e2ddIn my last blog, I wrote about my first night at Sacred Rocks Sedona, a  "Metaphysical B&B" owned by an Ojibwa Indian healer named Meaghan and her husband, Rick.  The first night had featured a crystal bowl healing ceremony, conducted by Meaghan. Although I was unfamiliar with the nature of such a ceremony, I accepted the invitation to take part. Given the circumstances surrounding my arrival at Sacred Rocks, I found myself fairly open to any and every thing that might happen there. Hence, I did not speak much during my stay, but rather, watched, listened, and breathed.

On my first morning at Sacred Rocks, I woke to the sound of a cat meowing outside the door of the trailer in which I was staying. It was Yin, a black cat whom Rick had introduced me to upon my arrival. Yin was a friendly cat, but not too friendly. He remained largely out of site during the day, but made a point of stopping by in the mornings, as well as spending some time with me before lights out. As a guy who shares his home with two blacks cats, the arrangement suited me just fine. 

I'd awoken to a bright and sunny desert day, as one might expect in Sedona. The beautiful weather prompted me to go for a hike at Cathedral Rock, one of Sedona’s four “vortex” locations. I had hoped to hike to all four vortexes during my stay, vaguely sensing at some level that it might be helpful, or needed in some way, but ultimately, my trip would take a different course. 

After arriving at the Cathedral Rock trailhead, I threw on a daypack and started down a well worn trail. Eventually, the trail gave way to a series of cairns which led a winding path up the side of the large, red-rock formation. When I reached the end of the Cathedral Rock trail, I found a solitary spot and spent some time meditating before returning to my vehicle, and ultimately the trailer I'd rented. I was beginning to notice that my mind was not very still ... something felt off.

During the return hike, I became aware of a growing fatigue, so I thought it best to return to home base and rest. As it turns out, this would be the onset of a deep weakness that would last throughout my time in Sedona. Following the hike, I barely left the bed and breakfast, save to eat a couple meals in town. Generally speaking, I found that my appetite - as well as my strength - left me during my stay in the desert.

I rested as that first day passed, lounging in various hammocks, reading, and wondering what the next day’s pranic healing session would be like. Before long the sun set, day faded into night, and I decided to turn-in after having spent the requisite amount of time petting Yin. My energy was gone, but my spirits were in a good place. At that point, I had every confidence that there was no role for me to play beyond remaining present and open to what may come. 

When morning arrived, I once again woke to the persistent meowing of Yin, sitting in the red-dirt outside my window. My energy low, I relaxed through the morning, then did an hour of yoga in the trailer before heading over to the main house for my scheduled "healing" session. Arriving in the "great room", I rendezvoused with Meaghan. She led me to a small, octagonal, room with tall windows, located at the back of the house. In the center of the room, there was a single chair in which Meaghan instructed me to sit.

Once seated, Meaghan handed me a medical form with a drawing of the human body on it, instructing me to mark the areas where I was experiencing pain, as well as write-out descriptions of my symptoms. I found this a bit surprising. Things seemed more official than I’d anticipated; akin to receiving that ubiquitous clipboard during a visit to the doctor.

In filling out the form, I detailed my right hip and shoulder as places that needed help. I had wondered about including the hip, as I had already made so much progress with it in the past nine months, as opposed to my shoulder, which continued to vex me. In the end, I figured full disclosure would serve me best. 

Examining the form, Meaghan took some time to look me over, then told me she thought the hip was under control, and that the shoulder should be her area of focus. I found it interesting that her assessment matched my own, although I hadn’t specified anything about the work I’d been doing or my own feelings on the matter. She hadn’t conducted any range of motion tests, but our conclusions seemed to be in agreement, so I sat quietly, breathing deeply, and reminding myself to be open. 

I suppose I knew at some level that it was coming - this was Sedona after all - still, I wasn’t sure how to feel as Meaghan revealed two clear-quartz crystals to me, explaining that she would be using them in her work.

Crystals.

There is so much angst and opposition in the scientific world regarding the new age use of crystals in healing that, admittedly, I have found it hard to keep an open mind in regards to them. For the most part, I have steered clear from speculating on the subject, but even so, there are certain aspects of crystals that I find fascinating.   

In reading about the history of Mayan culture, I was interested to learn of the legend of the crystal skulls (not the antics of the latest Indiana Jones film or the tall tales told on late night radio, mind you). From what I’ve read, Mayans would occasionally identify “special” people at birth, separating them from the rest of the children. Once selected, the individual would spend their life mastering a certain aspect of Mayan culture. Upon reaching the appropriate age, the person would become the focus of a ceremony - involving a “concoction of special herbs, psychedelic plants and mushrooms” - where a crystal skull was placed on their chest. Somehow, this ceremony facilitated a knowledge transfer between the person and the crystal, allowing their consciousness - and the learned aspects of Mayan culture - to be preserved. 

I found these Mayan stories of crystal usage intriguing, especially given that microchips are made from silicon crystal. The modern trans-humanist movement considers it a primary goal to “upload” human consciousness into this crystal-based memory, so as to achieve immortality. In comparing the trans-humanists with the Mayans, I find it telling that in their own way, each landed on crystals as a means of preserving/extending consciousness. I'm not sure what that means, maybe nothing. Yet, similar patterns have always interested me.

For my own part, I had chosen to include crystals in my yogic practice. In my mind, however, this was done for very different reasons than a traditional new age belief in the power of crystals. It may seem a subtle difference, but it is one worth detailing, if only to better frame the approach I used in cultivating my meditation practice. My inclusion of crystals had less to do with the power of crystals, and more to do with the placebo effect.

In observing western culture, one aspect I find particularly bizarre is the way we allow our minds to interfere with the gifts life is attempting to give to us. It is as if we prefer living miserably in rationality, as opposed to living blissfully in ignorance. Nowhere is this mindset more clearly illustrated than in western medicine’s stance on the placebo effect. 

In looking at the placebo effect, we find that our bodies contain within them the innate ability to heal themselves based solely on the state of our beliefs -- our state of consciousness. This kind of healing comes at no cost and has no side-effects. What’s more, the efficacy of the placebo effect is increasing, although no one can explain why.

Contrary to western medicine's shunning of the placebo effect, I've long been interested in courting it. When it came to my time on the yoga mat, I recognized the entire venture as a mind-body affair. Essentially, I was conducting an evolving experiment in leveraging my own body's ability to heal itself. Because of this, I choose to “ritualize” the practice, taking steps to place candles in a certain way, burn incense of a certain type, etc. I didn’t do these things because I believed they would exert a magical, external influence, I did so believing that these steps, when repeated, would positively shape my own beliefs about the practice itself. It was a way of putting my mind into a healing space, one cultivated carefully over time. In choosing what to leave in and what to leave out, I had simply followed my feelings, picking things that I found cheerful or pleasantly mysterious. 

At a certain point, I chose to include crystals in my practice. I did so not because I believed them to be independently powerful, but because I find them beautiful and enjoyable in a tactile sense, and in the end, because I believe things have exactly the power we assign to them -- a belief the placebo effect demonstrates pretty clearly. In creating a sacred meditation practice for myself, I wanted to involve light-hearted, colorful things, and crystals fit the bill perfectly.

I thought of my own meditation practice as I sat in that chair, watching Meaghan wave two crystals around my shoulder, one short and stubby, the other long and pointed. I wondered if she believed these crystals held real power: an innate ability to heal beyond the placebo effect. If she did, I wasn’t sure I agreed with her, but then again, what can a person say for certain about anything in this life? As the above quote illustrates, Nikola Tesla seemed to think crystals were of particular interest. However, they have become such a lightning-rod for controversy in recent times, that one hardly knows where to begin with them. In many ways, crystals exist as the modern, geological equivalent of fake-news. For my part, the singular truth I cling to is that absolute truth cannot be accessed within this reality. This being the case, I once again chose to shut my mouth, breathe deeply, and attempt to keep a clear, if not open, mind.

After some time had passed, Meaghan pulled back from me and exclaimed, “You have a sword in your shoulder!” As you might expect, this gave me pause. Not know exactly what to say, I mustered my best, off-hand, wry response.

“Well, that would explain why it has been hurting so much.”

She laughed momentarily, then asked, “... but it’s a sharp pain, right?”

“Yes”, I  responded.

“A stabbing pain, right?”

“Well, yes”, I admitted.

“Yes, you’ve got a sword in your shoulder and I’m going to try and take it out.”

I did not know what to make of the exchange we’d just shared, so I continued, “… when you say I’ve got a sword in my shoulder, what do you mean exactly? That’s not making a lot of sense to me.”

Meaghan responded without missing a beat, “Oh, in a past life you were stabbed through the shoulder with a sword, and it was a mortal wound. You’re still carrying it with you.”

Well, I did ask.

Once again, I decided it best to just shut my mouth and let Meaghan work. As time passed, I used the opportunity to meditate, attempting to be open to what was happening. Afterall, I had felt drawn westward partially due to my shoulder issues and, whether or not there was anything to her narrative, it was ultimately my choice to leverage my own beliefs towards a healing result, just as in my own practice. 

Soon enough, Meaghan declared the session completed, asking me how my shoulder felt. Throughout the process, I had remained very cognizant of any sensations happening within my body, specifically in my shoulder, and had honestly felt nothing. Now, with the process completed, I could still feel the intense swelling and pain throughout my shoulder, back and neck -- not much had changed. Once again, she prodded me as to how the shoulder felt. I told her that it felt generally good, which was likely a stretching of the truth, but then again, I couldn’t help but think that if there had been a literal sword in my shoulder, simply removing it would not result in the immediate cessation of swelling and pain in the area. Therefore, the expectation of instantaneous results would be silly on my part -- better to hold my tongue. I was optimistically reserving judgement, or at least that’s how I justified my answer. 

Meaghan recommended that I rest for the remainder of my stay at the B&B, and I was open to her suggestion, given how lethargic I’d been feeling. I purchased a book from the tiny shop they ran out of their home, and found my way to chairs that sat beneath the awning of the trailer, reading as I let the remainder of the day pass away. I would be leaving the next morning, a return eastward: winding my way through red rocks and Indian reservations, looking for interesting places to spend a little time as I journeyed homeward. 

Before leaving, however, I would participate in one more ceremony.

Arriving at Sacred Rocks, I had decided to keep an open mind, and signed up for a single healing session. As circumstances unfolded, I was invited to participate in a crystal bowl ceremony on the first night, and during the time Meaghan and I spent talking following my pranic healing session, she’d asked if I would take part in a traditional medicine wheel ceremony on the final morning of my stay. So it was that I would take part in not one, but three ceremonies/sessions during my stay at Sacred Rocks -- one for each night I spent there. 

I passed my final evening at relaxing in a hammock behind the bed & breakfast. My time in Sedona was coming to a close, and the trip had taken on a much different form than I’d expected. I had not hiked to the various vortexes - save Cathedral Rock - but rather, convalesced within the healing confines of Sacred Rocks. Instead of four vortexes, I would experience three healing ceremonies. I didn’t mind a bit. 

As the sun lay low on the horizon, I relaxed in deep contentment. Before too long, I once again noticed the dark-haired, Australian, medical intuitive walking my way, just as she had the first night. Approaching my hammock, she reached out her hand, offering me a Starbucks bottle. Although the bottle had originally contained a pre-fab cocktail of espresso and sugar, it now held a dark, rust colored liquid. On the label, she had written a few things, including a name: Sedona Four-Vortex Tincture.

As I listened, the dark-haired woman told me how she and her travelling partner had hiked to all four vortexes in a single day to make the liquid, spending roughly ninety minutes at each spot. The label contained instructions for diluting the bottles raw contents into a tincture, as well as dosage instructions. “Keep this stored in a dark place, and it will last you the rest of your life”, she said. Before walking away, she issued one final instruction regarding the strange liquid, “take it at times in your life when you feel you are ready for a shift.”

More to come!
 

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

The road had been difficult in the previous couple of years, as I had largely separated myself from community to engage in an inner journey. Ironically, this process worked to underscore the value of community in my life, causing me to reconsider my conduct in the world (a work in progress). This was not my conscious plan, but I doubt such things ever are. Perhaps it is something we all do at a certain time in our lives, yet, how many of us would sign up willingly, knowing the weight of such a passage. As Bob Dylan penned, “Sometimes you just find yourself over the line.“ 

Standing in that trailer, I knew at some level that I was not done with the inner work I had been doing, but I sensed this was a reward of sorts: a time of respite and renewal. As the trailer door closed behind Rick, my mind struggled to take everything in: it all seemed so perfectly arranged. Glancing at the dinette table, I noticed something: there was a menu of healing ceremonies sitting on the table. Interesting.

Because I had not sought this place out, I felt no obligation to participate in the services they offered – after all, I had simply been looking for a place to sleep - I planned to spend my days exploring the area. Yet, as I considered my situation, it seemed only right to take advantage of the opportunity. After all, I had come on this trip seeking answers regarding the pain in my shoulder, as well as a deeper understanding of what exactly I had gotten myself into on the yoga mat. What were the odds that I would end up at a place that specializes in energy healing? OK, OK, they are certainly higher in Sedona than most other spots, but still. My heart told me it would only be right to take part while there, so I decided I would do one session, if for no other reason than to practice openness. 

Picking up the laminated sheet, I scanned from top to bottom. Halfway down the list was a service called “pranic healing session”. This peaked my curiosity. During my long hours on the yoga mat, I would regularly reach a place where I had so tuned out the external, that all I felt was internal sensations. After practicing with this state, I found that subtle feelings amplified, eventually coming to feel like energy itself, moving in and through my body. I had come to suspect this may be prana or chi I was feeling, but what did I know? Still, those suspicions caused a curiosity in me regarding that item on the list. Putting no more thought into it than that, I decided to go with my gut: I filled out a short form requesting a treatment in two days, then inserted it into an envelope with some cash and walked to the main house, sliding the envelope under Meaghan’s closed office door.

That night, as I relaxed on a hammock outside the main house, a dark-haired woman approached me. She introduced herself as a “medical intuitive.” She had come from Australia with a fellow intuitive, and both were staying at the B&B. The logical part of me did not know what to make of the concept of a medical intuitive, but by that point, I was learning to let go of judgments and accept that which life presented to me. 

This is a point worth investigating as - given the relative blindness of this reality - I have come to view life as a series of stories and not much more. Hence, as I watch life pass by, I am engaged in a dance with these stories: observing how they make me feel; choosing how I will relate to each one as it settles on me. In the modern world, we place a great deal of value on stories. We go so far as to make them a part of us: identifying with them to such a degree that, should they be questioned, we find ourselves threatened, often willing to fight and kill to defend them. Yet, they are only stories. 

Stories plague us at both personal and organizational levels. Science looks to banish religion for its baseless stories, just as religion ignores science when its stories invalidate its traditions. A sad state of affairs really. Together, they might tell a more compelling story, but for now, they remain relegated to their respective corners.

In their own ways, both science and religion provide us an understanding of the world and our place in it, and they do so by telling us stories. Science may not seem to be a story at first blush, but consider that the hard and inflexible laws of Newtonian physics melt away at the quantum level, just as the fast and loose activity of the quantum realm fails to hold at the level of reality we perceive in day-to-day life. This being the case, both theories - although appearing “solid” from a relative perspective - are by definition interpretations of a greater truth. Yet, they serve a purpose in their limited interpretation: pointing the way to a larger story that is searching for us, one that will obsolete the stories that now serve us.

Science fascinates me, and I am thankful for much of what it has given us – but I have never viewed it as a method capable of revealing ultimate truth. After all, the universe we live in is a whole, not a collection of parts. Therefore, while science may provide comfort and convenience as it continually dissects the universe into smaller bits, it will never explain wholeness; to believe it can is irrational.

In the end, science is simply an updated way of explaining the (physical) world to ourselves, one that bears similarities to its religious predecessors, despite its protestations to the contrary. Priests once sacrificed animals on alters, a practice largely abandoned. Scientists sacrifice animals on lab tables, a practice alive and well. The priest sought spiritual knowledge; the scientist seeks physical knowledge. Yet, what is more important, that which one seeks, or the manner in which one seeks it?

Because I believe myself to live in a word of stories, none more true than the next – relatively speaking - I have come to practice suspension of disbelief, viewing everything as data arriving. Yes, I could view some stories as unworthy and send them on their way, but there is far too much beyond my understanding to engage in that kind of judgement. I suspect most will live and die having never understood the true purpose their life, yet, I feel there is purpose. Hence, I do my best to smile and see what life has to offer me when things come my way. Life proceeds in the blink of an eye and, for my part, I do not have the time for either religious or scientific dogmas, and there are many on both sides.

As I lay in my hammock, the dark-haired woman continued talking with me. She began to tell me things about myself, speaking of energies that locate themselves around me and the purposes they serve, as well as pointing out issues with my hips, knees, and shoulder rotation, recommending ways of healing them. Before too long, she was on her way. But before she went, she mentioned that there would be a crystal-bowl healing ceremony in the main house that night, adding that Meaghan - whom I had still not met - had wondered if I would attend. What could I say?

Later that night, I entered the main house for the ceremony and finally met Meaghan, a fair haired, attractive woman, close my own age. She instructed us to gather cushions and lay in a circle around seven large crystal bowls in the center of the room. I was now in the heart of it: the much maligned new age culture so intimately associated with Sedona. For my part, I have chosen to forsake passing judgement on such things, yet, as one who considers himself “rational”, I could feel judgments circling around me in that moment. I let them circle.

Making matters more interesting, Meaghan’s babysitter had failed to show, meaning three young boys would be joining the ceremony. As the boys laughed, running from here to there, I wondered how this was ever going to get off the ground. I began to guard against the frustration I felt growing inside me, given the situation, and looking at the two Australian women sitting on their cushions, I could see that they were visibly agitated at the state of affairs.  

Once coaxed onto their cushions, the boys settled a bit, and Meaghan began the ceremony. It took a while, but eventually the group found relative silence as Meaghan sat in the midst of the crystal bowls, moving her hand around in circles on one bowl for a long while before switching to the next. As her hand circled around each bowl, out sprang a beautiful stream of frequency that seemed to vibrate into and through every fiber of my being. I lay quietly, breathing deeply, still in disbelief that I had started the day not knowing where I would be sleeping, and yet, here I was.

Nothing magical happened at that ceremony: no fireworks in my head, no revelatory visions dancing in my mind; yet, as the stream of vibration continued, I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into the present moment. There was something true about that evening, a sense of being deeply grounded. I felt that at some level - although I may never know why - it was important for me to be there.

Once Meaghan had concluded the ceremony, I found that I was tired, so I headed back to my trailer. Although I had thought to hike to each of the four “vortexes” while in Sedona, it would not turn out that way. A deep weakness would come to take hold of me throughout my time there; as if I was meant to stay on Meaghan and Rick’s property rather than exploring the area, which is largely how things went. 

In writing this blog, one of the things I have struggled with is deciding what to leave in and what to leave out. For all I will share of my journey west, it will be but a part of the full story. In taking the trip, I was actively searching for answers regarding my shoulder, yes, but so too were there other, deeper narratives unfolding. In watching the last few years of my life, I have been helpless but to observe their conformance to the archetypal pattern of Joseph Campbell's Monomyth, or “the hero’s journey.” This is not as out there as it sounds, as psychologists are now beginning to draw parallels between Campbell’s monomyth and a person’s inner journey to healing.

For me, arriving at that trailer in Sedona felt like finding a desert oasis. Some part of me knew that, although there were miles left to travel, this was a time for rest.

I have typically suffered “fools” gladly where many others would not, just as I have counted on the charity of others in suffering me. In doing so, I have repeatedly discovered treasures where one would least expect to find them – the possible benefit of keeping an unusually open mind I suppose. Prior to my arrival in Sedona, I was told some things by a person whom many would consider to be an irrational or otherwise unreliable source of information. I listened, however, taking it all in. Among other things, this person told me there was something in the night sky I needed to see on my trip. With this in the back of my mind, I returned to my trailer following the ceremony and took a seat in one of the chairs beneath the trailer's retractable awning, facing the sunset. The night was perfect beyond imagining, just as the day preceding it had been.

As the sky dimmed, two stars emerged in perfect balance before me. I could not help but notice that I was centered between them, as they sat alongside each other, separated, but dead even on the sunburst horizon. As I sat and watched them, I found that they called to me for some reason – comforted me. After some time had passed, I remembered an application called SkyView that I had installed on my phone some years earlier. The app used the phone’s camera to identify stars, planets, constellations … even the international space station. Having remembered the app, I pulled the phone from my pocket, curious to know what these stars were.

As I pointed the phone’s camera towards the night sky, the application superimposed a mythological image over the stars, identifying the constellation at which I had unknowingly been staring. There is no way I could explain the personal significance of that moment. No matter what I said, it would be lost on another, you would have to be me; to have followed my path. Yet, it is enough to say that in that moment, I knew I was right where I needed to be, and that I had received the most meaningful gift imaginable. What’s more, I had indeed found the renewal of faith I needed to continue my journey.  
 

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

I left my Ann Arbor home in late May heading for my nephew’s wedding in Cuero, TX, soon after my Tennessee Night release show. As mentioned in past blogs, I had been feeling a pull to get on the road and head west for some time; this trip was my chance to finally follow that feeling. It was a beautiful, sunny morning, and the miles passed easily as I headed through Illinois and began south towards Memphis. There was a sense of pressure being relieved as I drove; it seemed a soul-level comfort to finally be free to roam, to discover, to follow.

With the wedding completed, I headed west along the Mexican border. I stopped to spend a couple nights in Marfa, hiked at Big Bend National Park (which was closed for the season, shhhh), and continued west. By this point, I was beginning to hone in on a possible destination: I’d thought of California, or perhaps Utah, but I was feeling pretty drawn to Sedona, AZ, as the miles ticked away, so I set my sights there. 

I’ve always been interested in Sedona, a place best known for being a kind of New Age mecca. I had briefly visited the town many years earlier with family, and during a late night gas stop outside of town I’d struck up a conversation with three guys from M.I.T. who were in town conducting research. Their work dealt with the Earth’s magnetic grid and the Sedona “vortex phenomena”. As they explained it, anywhere two grid lines intersect is a technically vortex, but Sedona is unique because the iron-oxide in the red-rock acts as a natural amplifier, allowing people to actually experience the energy physically at times. I had no reason to doubt them, given their bona fides, the school they hailed from, and the fact that Native Americans have long considered the vortexes to be sacred sites.

I never forgot that conversation, I mean, any place considered interesting to both scientists and spiritual seekers is bound to appeal to me, right? Perhaps it was that talk which drew me back to Sedona, who can say. But the further I drove west, the more resolved I became about heading for the mysterious desert town.

The day before my arrival, I checked into a cheap motel for the night and began browsing AirBnB for possible places to stay upon reaching my destination. Sedona, as you may know, is expensive. I spent a while searching for lodgings - for something that jumped out or spoke to me - but nothing seemed to fit exactly. I ended my browsing session a little discouraged, but figured it would somehow become clear when I got there. 

The next day, someone close to me messaged as I drove down a hot and sunny interstate 19 towards Tuscan. She asked where I would be staying in Sedona, and I replied that I didn’t know, that I was going to see what happened when I got there. A couple minutes later she replied with an AirBnB link titled, “Sacred Rocks Sedona,” saying she hadn’t had a chance to look at it closely, but had a feeling it was for me. I immediately clicked on the link, but wasn’t going to try reading about the place while driving down the interstate. It was strange though: I hadn’t seen this listing the previous night, and I wondered to myself exactly how I’d missed it. 

As I glanced at the summary with one eye - keeping the other on the road - I was struck to see the price listed at $69 a night, which is unheard of in Sedona. Also, I noticed the rental was a trailer on someone’s property, but couldn't investigate any further while on the highway … yet, I had a growing feeling about the listing that agreed with my friend’s intuition. So, with no better options, I decided that I would go with the trailer in question if it had air conditioning, as temperatures would be 100+ during my stay. Glancing once again at the listing - still driving - I saw that the trailer did indeed have AC. That settled it. I pushed the button and requested the trailer for three nights. 

About an hour after sending my request, I got a reply from the proprietor inquiring as to the nature of my visit, which I considered to be quite strange. I replied that I was looking for a quiet, meditative spot to do some resting, perhaps writing. Another hour passed and I got a second message providing an address and verifying my reservation, and just like that I had found a place to stay in Sedona. I knew I might be in for a pretty sketchy situation, but I didn't mind. I wasn't planning to spend much time there anyway. Funny thing about plans ...

I wasn’t sure what to expect as I rolled into town, but I figured low-expectations would serve me quite well on this day: I’d been to Sedona before, and a $69 trailer sounded awfully dubious to me. To my surprise, the place was located just a few minutes outside of town - unexpectedly convenient. My GPS led me down some dirt roads as I continued, not past run-down properties, but beautiful ones. I began to wonder to myself what $69 trailer could possibly be located in such a nice area. Before too long, I saw a large metal sculpture of a horse that had been placed in the center of a rock garden beside the entrance to a large piece of property. Examining the address, I realized this was the place I was looking for. There was a sign placed there at the front of the drive that read “Sedona Sacred Rocks Metaphysical B&B.”

Of course it did.

I laughed to myself about having booked to stay at a place that advertised itself as a “Metaphysical B&B.” Firstly, it’s just not something you’d see in Michigan (or a lot of other places for that matter), secondly, it’s the kind of place I might have picked, if only out of curiosity. In this case, I’d ended up doing it without intending to. I was beginning to feel a measure of confidence about my decision ... time would tell.

As I parked my vehicle and got out, I was met by a man, Rick, who greeted me with a hug and introduced himself as one of the owners, the other being his wife, Meaghan. Rick explained that Meaghan was an Ojibwa indian healer who knew and worked with tribal elders in the area. The property was a beautiful horse farm, and Meaghan not only trained horses, she utilized them in healing ceremonies  -- something I’d not heard of. 

Touring the property, I learned that it had previously been a Buddhist retreat center. When the Buddhists departed, the place found Meaghan and Rick. As Rick showed me around, we passed by a large, traditional medicine wheel which sat in opposition to a stupa the Buddhists had built. The new owners had placed a large, red-stone, pyramid on top of the stupa soon after their arrival. I took notice of numerous hammocks spread about the property as well as the amazing, red-rock canyons walls which surrounded our location and, as we walked on, we were joined by a dog and a cat, both incredibly friendly. As Rick showed me around, it quickly became clear that this place was … perfect. 

In completing our tour Rick led me to the door of a beautiful, new, ultralight trailer. Outside there were chairs placed beneath a large awning that extended out from one side, facing an incredibly scenic vista. Entering the trailer, I saw that it had all the amenities: a kitchen, dining area, bathroom, bedroom, etc. It was beautiful. I wondered to myself, “how is this all costing me $69 a night?” As if on cue, Rick said, “You don’t know how lucky you are to be here. You can’t just get into this place … we’re always booked solid.” I listened as Rick explained that the trailer we were standing in belonged to their family, and how they'd be taking it on vacation the next week. In anticipation of the trip, he’d gotten it ready to go, then decided to list it on AirBnB just that morning, thinking maybe he could make a few dollars prior to the trip.

I now understood the reason I hadn’t seen the trailer on AirBnB the previous night: it wasn’t there to be seen. I was standing in a peaceful, beautiful location - an ideal destination for considering some of the questions I had been wrestling with - and I knew in that moment that I couldn’t have gotten there directly. Even if I’d known about the place, I wouldn’t have been able to get a reservation. What was required for me to stay there was for me to show up in Sedona on that very day: the day the trailer was put up for rent (and for a kind person to care enough to find the listing and send it to me). 

As was becoming a regularity in my life, I found myself in the right place at the right time, not because of meticulous planning, but via the actions of an open heart and a willingness to follow where it might lead. It was harrowing at times, learning to live in this fashion, but it always seemed to deliver in the end, which had made a believer out of me. More to come! 
 

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

In the parable of the two wolves, a grandfather is talking with his grandson and tells him that each of us have two wolves inside of us that are at war: one wolf is good, representing love; the other is bad, representing fear. Upon consideration the child asks, “Grandfather, which wolf wins?” To which the wise old man replies, “The one you feed.”

There is something big happening on our planet; something is afoot. Normally, such a statement might seem a little “out there”, but I don’t consider it so. In fact, the statement seems fairly well supported given some of the information science has been passing down to us of late. Then again, it doesn’t take a weatherman to look around and see the weather, does it? From my perspective, it’s crazy more people - and politicians - aren’t clued in to some of the large changes unfolding in the modern age.

Among the big picture changes I have been keeping on my radar, two top the list for obvious reasons:

1) the Sun’s heliosphere (protective shield of energy surrounding the solar system) was observed to have weakened by 25% from 1998-2008.

2) The Earth’s own magnetic field is shrinking at an accelerating pace, “According to scientists' best estimates, the field is now weakening around 10 times faster than initially thought, losing approximately 5 percent of its strength every decade. But they don't really know why, or what that means for our planet.”

Scientists are baffled as to what is causing these large-scale, celestial-level changes to our cosmic environment, but one of the front-running theories is an impending pole-shift for planet Earth.

Googling the term “pole shift” is an invitation to all sorts of conflicting and often terrifying information. While some results assure a long, slow, innocuous shift spanning 1000's of years, others envision the planet’s crust turning on its mantle and reshuffling Earth’s geography in a matter of a few short, catastrophic minutes. I don’t know where the truth lies, but as with most things, it’s likely somewhere in the middle.

In searching for an analog to Earth’s perennial pattern of magnetic reversal, one need look no further than our own star. The Sun shifts like clockwork every 11 years. Our Sun’s regularity in this regard has given humanity a frequent and predictable opportunity to study the phenomenon - known as a “sunspot shift” - which represents one-half of the so-called “solar cycle,” which lasts 22 years in total. Therefore, in 22 years the Sun’s north pole will flip to south after 11 years - the completion of the sunspot cycle - then return once again to north after another 11 years, completing the larger solar cycle and beginning anew.

At the start of a new sunspot cycle the Sun is quiet, with few if any sunspots. When sunspots do appear, they assume a location centered along the Sun’s equator. The latter phase of the sunspot cycle is anything but quiet: solar maximum is typified by frenetic activity on the Sun’s surface, with heavy sunspot activity; their locations having moved from the equator to latitudes of +/- 30 degrees. In other words, the location of sunspots "polarizes" approaching a shift: their placement is drawn from equatorial center towards either the north or south pole. 

This polarization of the Sun amounts to not just more activity, but more extreme activity. Sunspot location is relevant, because sunspots are the visual markers of where the Sun’s powerful magnetic fields have emerged from its interior. Yet, what interests me most about the solar cycle is not what it might teach us about our Sun, but what it might teach us about ourselves.

As human beings we are nature, a fact western culture seems to have all but forgotten throughout its evolutionary rise. As a species we are different, it's true. We possess a “reflective” type of consciousness that is unique among known life forms, but that does not make us unnatural. Yet, as westerners we seek to conquer the wild - to cause nature to submit to our will - to the degree that ending the very cycle of birth and death that has carried us this far seems to be something of an assumed cultural goal. 

Still, we are nature. As such, it's curious that just as we’re witnessing such strange magnetic changes in our own celestial backyard, were also experiencing a ratcheting up of polar thinking planet-wide. A hair-brained comparison? Well, yeah … admittedly so. But are we really that different as humans, are we truly set apart? No, we are nature, like it or not. Hence, when winter comes and things fall dormant, a part of us diminishes as well; when spring arrives and life blooms, so too does a part of us experience renewal. We reflect internally that which nature shows us externally because we are nature. Yes, it's easy to set ourselves apart and see humanity as fundamentally different, but human consciousness - mysterious and misunderstood as it is - evolved here just like everything else, so why wouldn't we stop to consider how natural cycles might color our own lives?

So ... could the spike in strife and polarized thinking we are currently experiencing be related to some mysterious magnetic changes? I really wouldn’t know, I just thought it was an interesting idea — a fun thought experiment. I embrace such ideas because they help me better understand myself via the act of processing them. They assist me in finding my place in the world, and the worlds place in me; they awaken in me of the words of great thinkers such as Hermes, who said, “As above, so below”, and Tesla, who said, "if you want to understand the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency, and vibration."

Beyond any fancy words and grand theories, I can’t help but think about those wolves in the grandfather's story. Whether we know the reason or not, our world does seem to be spiraling into polarization. Maybe it’s time we asked ourselves the question: as a culture, which wolf do we tend to feed? 

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

I was not too worried about my shoulder leaving therapy, as I was beginning to make huge strides with yoga and breath-work. Still, the experience caused me to reflect on all the people who do not know such healing modalities exist; how many people simply limp home in pain, their prognosis a life of steadily increasing self-medication? The experience bummed me out in that regard. However, I did learn a great deal about the human shoulder and my own issues specifically, which has come in handy as I continue working with the injury some 10 months later.

As I discussed last time, I worked my way into yoga in my typical, autodidactic fashion: in isolation, just trying things out ... experimenting. You see, that is how yoga slipped past my radar: I did not know it was yoga. I laugh about it now, but yoga pulled one over on me. By the time I knew what I was into it was too late. (Admittedly, the involvement of a yoga mat should have been a huge red flag.)

My work with yoga was enhanced in many ways, which allowed me push experiences to their maximum efficacy. This included practicing in a solitary space for long periods, low light, candles, occasionally incense, and typically listening to binaural beats through a set of headphones. Also, I found that “medicinal assistance” was particularly helpful in the beginning, as it acted to quiet my mind while simultaneously allowing me to process painful moments gracefully, as well as amplifying all those little things my body was trying to tell me.

Simply calling my practice “yoga” is likely a misnomer, as its form differs radically from the things I do in formal yoga classes, which I now attend twice weekly. However, because I have integrated yogic postures throughout my practice, I find it easier to refer to it as such. Someday, I suspect to find that my practice - although arrived at through solitude and experimentation - is an existing type of yoga, or perhaps qigong, or maybe a combination of many things. For now, I simply know that with continued practice and sufficient time spent in a single session, I found it was possible to, hmmm … reverse my perception, shall we say?

I found that by spending long periods of time in focused breathing/relaxation, a person can train their mind to prioritize inner signals, such as: tingling, muscle pain and soreness, and breath moving through the body, over outer signals, such as: air/clothing on the skin, pressure between the body and the mat, etc. Learning to reach this altered state of perception opened doors for me, as well as bringing a lot of healing. It continues to be a subtle progression, but it was surprisingly easy to begin exercising real control over muscles I had not known existed previously. I had simply never tried … I didn’t know it was a thing. 

My process was simple enough: send both breath and conscious attention to a certain part of the body - somewhere that hurt - while slowly relaxing into the pain; quieting the outside while amplifying the inside. As I did so, it seemed there was always a way to address the pain - a way to breathe - which would cause the pain to release. Once it did, there was often a deeper pain behind the first. The process would continue like that until the root of the pain revealed itself. Once underway I found I was able to work with my muscles very differently - interact with pain in new ways - and in the end, we all need a good way of interacting with pain, don't we?

Perhaps this all sounds a little … masochistic? It isn't. Simply put, I came to know pain differently: as purposeful. In learning that lesson, I began to understand that I'd been looking at pain all wrong, a viewpoint that caused me to avoid pain when I was meant to move towards it -- through it. With this change in perspective, I began following pain to what lay behind it - interacting with it instead of sharing space with it - not just physically, but in all areas of my life.

When I began approaching pain in this way, I found that in many cases I was able to dismiss it, given sufficient time. It seemed that once I had followed a pain to its source, it no longer had reason to be there, as if its job were done. That may sound crazy, but I am simply stating that which I have observed, and from all I have observed, the pain I experience seems to exist as a sort of navigation system: a trail of breadcrumbs that leads to the source of a given dis-ease. Once I had addressed an issue at its source, it was as if the pain had served its purpose or outlived its usefulness.  

Is it really so crazy? We live in a system, and that system is governed by rules. In today's society we seem to have convinced ourselves that life is just too complex to understand, so we let others - experts - provide our answers for us. Yet, the entirety of this system operates on the simple concept of action and reaction. Therefore, the experience of a symptom is by necessity a reaction to something. If you blow a fuse, you don't go to the store and buy candles, you open the fuse box and replace the fuse. So too, the pains we experience may best be understood as reactions to underlying issues seeking our attention.

When it comes to chronic pain, this type of thinking flies in the face of western medicine, whose primary interests lie in effects rather than causes: in rendering patients deaf, dumb, and blind to the messages their own bodies are sending to them. Yet, everything has a cause. Therefore, when I experience pain, my curiosity awakens. 

I first begin practicing this new relationship with pain in dealing with emotional matters. Later, my entry into a mind-body practice showed me that the same principles applied to the physical. As discussed in my last blog, the kinds of progress and renewal my body was capable of amazed me. Yet, my shoulder issues persisted, and when examining my shoulder while in deep states of consciousness, I observed what seemed to be an energetic density inside of it, somehow located everywhere and nowhere at the same time (which is how I experienced my shoulder pain as well, incredibly sharp, yet nowhere). This “density” affected not only my shoulder, but my neck and upper back as well, as if exacting a gravitational pull over the entire area. In other areas of the body, I could breathe into the hurt, loosening the tightness and allowing healing to start. There was no such success with the shoulder, however, at least not at the level needed.

Given this state of affairs, I opted to continue working in other areas of my body under the assumption that the improvements would eventually “bubble up” and cause a change in the state of my shoulder injury. Rather than getting discouraged, I chose to focus on what was working, trusting that I was laying the groundwork for healing by improving the overall health and alignment of my body.

Leading up to my spring release show, the work I had done over the previous months seemed to be reaching my shoulder, as I could feel it transforming in some way: opening. This took the form of significant pain day-to-day, and caused a permanent kink in my neck and shoulder blade. Whatever was going on with the shoulder, it now seemed almost angry. I know that sounds bad, but I did not see it that way. In my mind, the shoulder was finally “talking” to me, being more direct about how bad the situation was. I viewed that as progress, truly. What’s more, it was happening in the days leading up to my western road trip, and I saw that as an interesting coincidence. Something told me that the shoulder was an important component of the trip, so I welcomed the pain as a kind of confirmation of that feeling … although it did make shoulder checking on the highway a real nuisance.

That which I have observed regarding pain has reshaped the way I look at the world. For, just as my body is a system, so too is the Earth, the galaxy and the cosmos. All of these systems operate by the same rules. Still, we lament the pain and suffering in the world, often blaming deity or the unfairness of life for the woes of humankind. Yet, do we really believe life acts randomly? Is it rational to consider this as a possibility given the nature of the physical systems we inhabit? I do not consider it so. Simply put, I see a world that is increasingly trying to get our attention, saying, "there's an issue here you might want to pay closer attention to."  Yet, we wash our hands of our collective responsibility and conveniently put the blame elsewhere, going so far as to question the sanctity of life for all the suffering it brings us. I see no issues with life, only with the erroneous fashion in which we perceive it. Yes, "bad" things happen to "good" people. But we do not see the totality of this existence, only a mere fraction we call the "observable universe". For my part, I'm willing to give life the benefit of the doubt -- it has carried us this far. More to Come!

I’ve been wanting to blog about my early summer vacation and the steps leading to that strange morning for a while now, and I will get there. But before doing so I'm going to fill in a little of the (fairly strange) backstory leading up to the trip, as I feel it will help underscore what exactly I was seeking, and why it is that I’m so open to following whimsy and intuition in the first place. 

A little over a year ago, I was out on an evening walk - a regular activity for me - when I was struck by a realization: my body is way out of alignment. This was not news to me, as I had seen x-rays throughout my life which showed a significant misalignment between my left and right hip, with the right one sitting much higher. When I walked I did so with a distinct supination on my right side; this was one of numerous clues visibly betraying my condition. 

On this night, however, my realization was not intellectual, it was experiential. In other words, I did not visualize an old x-ray and remember I was out of alignment, I literally felt myself out of alignment while walking. This had never happened to me before; perhaps I simply lacked the sensitivity to notice it until that moment? I had been practicing body awareness diligently in the previous months, an endeavor which filled me with a great deal of curiosity as well as a suspicion that my body might be capable of a few things no one had told me. In the end, it was likely this strengthened inner-focus that allowed me to “feel” my body’s misaligned state soberly and honestly. 

In that moment of realization a thought came to me, “Go home and lay down on a yoga mat, your body knows how to fix this.” It was a ridiculous thought, yes, but I was getting used to odd intuitions by that point, and had become open-minded about following them without expectation or judgement. Having already been in-and-out of the studio to track my second record, I’d had my share of opportunities to trust the path unfolding under my feet, and I was beginning to go along more willingly.

For some time, I'd been engaged in the process of learning to identify my highest inner voice, or intuition, and remain open to its influence. A psychologist might refer to this as “listening to your wise-mind”, whereas a spiritual person might call it “hearing your inner Buddha.” I think most hard-scientists would simply call it crazy, yet the phenomenon is no stranger to the halls of the learned, despite any protestations to the contrary. 

In providing a bit of context as to why a reasonable guy - a software developer - might pay heed to an instinct suggesting a misaligned body can fix itself, I will state here and now that my worldview differs fundamentally from the norm. I believe life proceeds according to some basic rules, and that those rules differ from the majority of what I was taught. In truth, are we really taught much of anything about what, if any, rules life follows?

If your memory is in decent working order, you may recall taking an elementary science class in which you laid a sheet of paper over a magnet and then threw metal shavings across the surface of the paper to observe the shavings taking the shape of the magnet's field. The experiment provides a perfect analog for my life approach: I view my state of being - i.e. the quality of my life experience as determined by my perception of events as they unfold - as a kind of magnet which shapes my life circumstances around it, much like a magnet's field directs metal shavings. Therefore, if I want to change my life circumstances in some way, I look to what is inside - that which generates the field - rather than to outer circumstances. In short, I view circumstance as fundamentally illusory, and that which gives rise to circumstance as fundamentally real.

Hence, when I manipulate the “magnet” within me, I do so knowing that action will ultimately reshape circumstances within the magnet’s field of influence, permanently. Therefore, if I am prone to repeating a behavior, I look to address the inner pattern (action) responsible for creating the external pattern (reaction). Practicing this sort of living relies heavily on one's willingness to view themselves honestly, misalignments and all. One must own their life, seeing it as a set of circumstances cultivated by themselves alone, without imaging themselves to be a victim.

Non-interference has proven to be an effective way of participating in this inner-work for me, as it is a way of living that tasks life itself with the work of reshaping the inside, so as to realize positive changes on the outside. Because I was already well down this path on the night of my walk, I was aware that my life was actively realigning through my inner-work and, additionally, that this realignment may at some point involve not just my mental and emotional health, but my physical health as well, as my physicality is simply an aspect of my outer reality.

Short story long, I finished my walk and did just as the ridiculous thought suggested.

I had attended a yoga class once, years earlier, but had no recollection of the experience, nor did I own a mat. However, the person who shared my home owned a mat, and upon my arrival at home I laid it out on the basement floor and positioned myself flat on my back. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing ... I simply laid on my back breathing deeply. After twenty minutes or so I felt very relaxed, and I had a thought suggesting I should move my feet shoulder width apart and point my toes at the ceiling; even as a non-yoga practitioner I knew this was not much of a challenging pose, but I did it all the same. It seemed easy at first, but upon further observation, I noticed that - although I was not in pain - there were parts of my body that were not completely at ease within even this simple position.

As I held the posture and continued breathing, I begin to notice a tingling like pins and needles growing in one of my legs. All my life I have been told that this is a bad sign, your body's way of saying “no, turn back”. Nevertheless, in my open state of mind I decided to greet the sensation as a wholly new experience, choosing to forget what I had been taught and instead play the curious scientist. My body was sending me a message of some sort, and I wanted to know more about that.

Note: I did not move into the tingling. It started spontaneously from within a safe, stable posture with the passage of time, so I reasoned I could "sit" with the feeling and observe it without undue risk.

In observing the tingling, it was immediately clear that the sensation closely resembled electrical current: not unlike what touching a weak, live wire might feel like. As I continued to focus on the sensation, I thought about nature’s tendency to avoid wastefulness, reasoning there must be a purpose for the tingling. A physical therapist would likely regard such tingling as a signal from the body to cease and desist, but something didn't feel quite right about that.

As I considered retreating - that this sensation may be intended to repel me - an inner-dialogue began to take place: "doesn’t the body already use pain to warn of impending damage?" I wondered, "why would the body require a secondary sensation - so unlike pain - to serve the same function? Why would it use two ways to send the same message?" I didn’t have an answer, so I continued breathing with the pins and needles and simply watched them as they not only continued, but began a crescendo which lasted for a minute or two and then dramatically faded, followed by a coolness which filled that area of the body. I did not know what that meant, but it felt good in the moment, physically and otherwise.

Now I was interested. How could this tingling have just run its course and disappeared? I would never have suspected that outcome based on the warnings I had received throughout my life. I had always been told to turn back when encountering such sensations, so I'd never hung around long enough to draw my own conclusions. I hadn’t the foggiest notion as to what had happened biologically, but it didn't feel bad, and simply assuming the tingling was a signal meant to ward me of didn’t seem reasonable, that much I knew. 

As it turns out, my simple decision to forget what I had been told and just see for myself really paid off. In doing so, I had awoken a strong curiosity that filled me with questions: what had happened? What was controlling it? What was that cool and soothing feeling that followed? In the next weeks I spent more and more time on the mat, laying in the most rudimentary positions (usually on my back) and slowly moving one or more appendages until I found something my body didn’t like, and then waiting there, breathing, and often experiencing a return of the tingling sensation, which would rise and fall, time after time. I still had no clue as to what was happening, but I knew I felt good afterwards, in all aspects.

After three weeks had passed, I was surprised to find myself retreating from a walk due to blisters on both of my feet. Upon arriving home, I found I had six fresh blisters: three on each foot, between my outside toes on both sides, each foot a mirror image of the other -- a symmetric match. Never in my life had I gotten blisters in these locations. When I discussed this with the woman I lived with, she said that I was walking differently, that I had always been flatfooted, but now my feet seemed to be flexing more normally. This was especially evident when descending the stairs in the house, which I was navigating noticeably faster, as we had both observed.

This was a big moment for me, truly. Getting on that yoga mat was beyond ridiculous, I knew that. Yet, I had gone along with it, and now I was actively engaged in improving some basic structural issues within my body -- improvements I had assumed to be fundamentally impossible. To top it all off, I had no clue how any of it was happening; what mechanism lay behind the healing that was taking place?

Yet, at that point, I knew I did not need to know. Perhaps someday I would understand the biological mechanisms at work, or perhaps I never would, but after that night, I knew that I could trust it; that I could invest fully and fearlessly in my intuition moving forward. It was as if something beyond my understanding was on my side somehow, and it had my optimum life experience as its ultimate goal. I had been engaged in a partnership, a dance, leading up to that night. I knew I would be less tentative with my steps moving forward.

As time has passed, I have attempted to educate myself on what it is I stumbled into exactly. Along the way, I learned that humans possessing only five senses is something of a myth: science has identified numerous other senses within the body that are simply underdeveloped and, as such, do not get much publicity. One of these is the vestibular system, which provides sensory information about motion, equilibrium, and spatial orientation. If you have ever touched your finger to the tip of your nose with your eyes closed, the vestibular system is what you used to do it. 

In retrospect, I suspect that when I began working on the yoga mat I was actually training myself to use one or more largely dormant senses; that through strengthening these underutilized abilities I was able to access physical (and emotional) issues in a completely new way. What’s more, I was able to access reality in a new way: through new sensations; ones I will continue to sharpen for the remainder of my days, no doubt. I cannot describe what that has been like exactly, except to say that there is much more to the body than I ever knew, and that my continued explorations have given me tremendous reservations in regards to western medicine’s mechanistic approach to healing.

It has been about fourteen months since that initial walk, and I have logged a lot of time on the mat. Yes, it is technically work, but it is also healing and fulfilling, and it’s where I want to be. My experience of this time has largely been blissful and has, time and again, acted as a reset button in my life, leaving me lightened and renewed. This is no surprise considering the practice is essentially meditative.

As I became more deeply engaged in this practice, my physicality continued to improve, as did my mental health. Yet, at a certain point, I reached a roadblock with my right shoulder, an area of the body I have struggled with throughout my life. The injury had worsened in the previous year, becoming somewhat debilitating. Although my mat time had improved the situation to some degree, it was unlike the rest of my body in that there seemed to be real limits on what I could do to improve things. I couldn’t say exactly why my time on the mat wasn’t helping my shoulder in the ways it was the rest of my body, but something in me could tell that what was working almost everywhere else was not enough for my shoulder: the pain in that area felt bigger somehow, deeper … beyond me.

Months passed, Tennessee Night released, and I eventually climbed into my truck for that long overdue vacation I had been longing for. I was in great need of rest and recuperation, yes, but I was also following a pull that I had been feeling for the previous two years, a subtle call to head west. Additionally, I was seeking answers regarding my shoulder pain. Some part of me felt that I was going to need assistance with the shoulder and that it might just be waiting out there for me somewhere. As it turns out, it was. I just had to follow my way to it. Till next time!

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/

My experiment officially ended at the close of my 5/19 release show at Johnny’s Speakeasy in Ann Arbor. At the end of that night I felt like something of a free man, having worked very hard on an independent project, one that I’d committed to following to a conclusion rather than “steering”. It was scary at times, and life definitely threw some uppercuts: 24 hours before live tracking started a critical member of the band had to drop out for personal reasons, additionally, my company called the next morning to say my project had been shut down and half of my team had been shown the door. At that point it wasn’t clear if there’d be a position for me upon my return. “Ok, so … not exactly fired … let’s make a record!”

Little by little, I’d been growing used to roadblocks such as those I faced in the studio. Since fully embracing my non-interference experiment I routinely found myself vacillating between epic highs and tumultuous moments of discomfort, lived way outside of my comfort zone. I was “practicing” living in a very different and non-obvious way, and life seemed interested in testing my medal on that score with regularity.

I liken this way of living to captaining a ship in a sea filled with ice bergs. Every once in a while it seems the vessel is going to run right into the side of one, yet, somehow the path clears, each and every time. The icebergs gets a little bigger each time, but the captain is also getting braver, gutsier. 

By the time I got to Grand Rapids to track Tennessee Night, the icebergs had increased their size by an order of magnitude, no question. I was learning, however. The lesson was not that I was imbued with some special power or intelligence to navigate around life’s barriers, but rather, these experiences taught me I didn’t have to. In other words, I wasn’t learning to overestimate my place in life, but to differently estimate it in the light of a new paradigm, and certainly to take life less seriously. As crisis moments arrived I typically viewed them as tests: life’s opportunities to practice trusting in a new way of being in the world.

Once life had thrown out its curveballs, tracking started and finished as scheduled. Due to the last minute lineup change there was a new guy in the room, one whom I hadn't met before; his presence took things in a different and ultimately good direction. It was the kind of thing I hadn’t been smart enough (or perhaps patient enough) to orchestrate myself. But life shuffled the pieces on my behalf, shall we say, and to wonderful effect. Even though I was getting used to living in such fashion by then, the studio was a real test. It was also an important lesson, one that illustrated just how quickly an iceberg can turn into something beneficial. 

The promise of a release show loomed in the future, and I knew I wanted to approximately represent the record, meaning I’d have to form a band. A Good American Life my first album, and I consciously chose to play shows in support of that record solo acoustic. The reason for this was simple: I was practicing the art of stagecraft (interacting with crowds, etc.), and wanted some time to do that all by my lonesome; to make sure I had my oxygen mask securely fixed before inviting others onto the plane, if you will.

I wanted to learn to manage "my own circle," as I sometimes refer to it: to exact a high-level of control over my performance regardless of what else might be happening in the room. I figured if I could learn to do that, then no matter how the scenery changed around me, I'd be good to go. However, the time was soon coming when I'd have to evolve into someone who performed live with others, and it wasn't clear whom those people might be or what form that might take.

I’d have my friend, the talented Rob Avsharian, playing drums, but beyond that I had no ideas on how to proceed. Yet, this too is arranged itself along the way. Honestly, between the day job and the many tasks associated with making a record/seriously engaging with the music industry, I simply didn’t have the bandwidth to handle all the things that needed to come together. I had to concentrate on what I could do in the time I had and simply let the rest arrange itself, and that's just what happened.  With Rob’s advice and a little time, a band begin to take shape. Not just any band, but one made up of humble folks, egos in check, and gifted with plenty of talent.

And so it was that on 5/19/2017 I found myself on stage at Johnny's Speakeasy for my Ann Arbor release show, surrounded by a group of musicians (including my lovely and talented friend, Judy Banker). Together we played for a wonderful, engaged, sellout crowd, and the event was a true celebration for me, as well as a personal milestone. Just being on that stage and performing those songs represented the culmination of a big journey and, ultimately, my experiment in non-interference.

The following week I got in my truck and headed south-west. I was way overdue for a vacation, and I’d been feeling an inner-pull to travel west for a long while - almost two years - I simply hadn't had the time. There was a family wedding to attend in South Texas, but beyond that my only plan was to make no plans. I was just going to drive wherever I felt pulled to go, by that point I knew I could trust life enough to do that.

A little over a week later, in what I considered at the time to be a “moment of lucidity”, I lifted my head to look around me. Taking stock of my surroundings I checked in with myself, my rational-side making a quick note regarding my present situation and how strange it was: I was one of four people face down in the dirt within a large Native American medicine wheel. My three companions were women: one an Ojibwa healer, and the other two professed “intuitives” visiting from Australia. I quizzically wondered what exactly I was doing with these women face down in the hot Arizona desert ... how did I even get myself into this situation? As I retraced the steps that led me to that moment I had to laugh: there was no plan, no strategies or reservations, just a curious mind and a habit of being open to things as they crossed my path. Yet, even by my standards, it was a strange situation and a strange trip ...  an incredibly healing one as well. More to come. Till next time!

Americana Singer Songwriter Ed Dupas’ lived-in melodies unwind with reflective lyrics that speak to the current state of the human condition. Soothing where possible, agitating where necessary, and calling for change where appropriate. Ed Dupas creates and shares well worn wide awake music.

For more information about music, shows, merchandise and Ed, visit:

http://eddupas.com/ 

https://facebook.com/eddupas/

https://twitter.com/eddupas/

https://soundcloud.com/eddupas/