The Orange Canoe





In the future, debt slavery will have been abolished, people will leapfrog over grouches, and led around by cats.


The Orange Canoe has to do with an inner communication you receive when you're gently waking from the edge of sleep, hearing a whisper voice from the center of your chest, enough to see where you're going, maybe ten years ahead. Waking with a bang, you miss it.


The Navajos call me Ak'is Gáagii, Friend of the Crow, an honor I prize more than all my journeys as a San Francisco taxi driver, who found my Navajo friends, not once, but twice. It's a connection.


People are awfully interested in four things: money, sex, the mainstream, and total immersion in life, and it helps a lot to begin with total immersion in life, or as the Christians would say, Baptism. There are technicalities: Have you ever noticed the moment you just sort of start hating a total stranger? Maybe it's a wormy, hovering girl who always sort of appears whenever you're around, and who practically gets in your way. What you do is hate yourself. That's right. No one would ever tell you that. Then you transmute this hatred toward yourself by running your attention across the back of your neck, from right to left, and this transmutes the hatred you consciously placed on yourself into something approaching indifference, and then, Voilà! The wormy girl gets it and leaves you alone.


Psychic things like this are interesting. If we're launching the Orange Canoe, (and we are!) you might want to totally forget psychic warfare. It's mostly a waste of time. I knew a cute girl once who was totally sexually aroused if you gave her a twenty dollar bill. You could match this by running the life force up the left side of your spine which would meet her own life force pretty much halfway, and you'd find yourselves practically hovering in air with her nipples just itching to be touched. Luckily, she ran off with her husband.


Another time I realized my psychic nemesis had read something I'd written about him on the Internet, and when he burst into the room practically sopping with hatred, I had to throw energy up the right side of my spine to reach into his hatred and energetically grapple with it until he'd had a chance to calm down. Then the energy field we'd been involved in simply vanished. Though the collapse of the energy field had to have left him wondering.


How did I know he'd been reading shit behind my back? Telepathy originates in the back of the skull, where you can't actually sense it. You just know from that location. It's a total waste of time. I mean, who really cares if someone pees when they're taking a shower? It's just no big deal.



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