Meet Carlos Dwa

March 11, 1999

Carlos Dwa contributes regularly to The Nonduality Salon. Visit his web

pages at <http://www3.ns.sympatico.ca/umbada/dwa2.htm>

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CarlosDwa1

Zai Ky Maaca was perhaps the most formidable of the Salock.

He was also the least respected. He made sure of this.

Otherwise his presence would have inspired such awe

as to paralyze functional association with others.

He seemed to set up situations purposefully to embarrass

himself and then not be embarrassed at all and then

get angry at his failure to embarrass himself.

I guess everybody needs a hobby.

The lineage of the Salock poet warriors predates

the IndoAryian invasion of Europe. It predates

the Celts, Gauls, and all the Germanic

peoples of preagricutural Europe. And it

certainly predates the Aryan invasion of India

which established the Vedic culture.

It predates the Mesopotamian city-states

by thousands of years. It is the ancient way

of the transeuropean culture that spanned

the continent before the invasion of the

Germanic peoples out of Asia with their

warlike skygod and their belief in themselves

as the chosen people. Not unlike what the Israelites

did on a smaller scale in the middle east.

This belief in being chosen by the supreme

god made it easier to rationalize their genocidal

and regicidal tendencies. But the Salock where

fluid and mighty hunters and

under the Germanic cultures of the Celts and Gauls,

and Germans, became warriors. Warfare against

other humans was unknown in Europe before this invasion

from Asia.

Enough of history, but to add that the art

of the Salock warrior poets has profited and

expanded no matter the external conditions

throughout the ages. If you are of European

heredity this is your true mystic heritage.

One that has never been totally erased by all

the degenerate religions that have had political

sway there. The only mystical science that is native

to your genome. The only one that is a science

of the magnetic blood that courses through you.

At any rate, for some reason Zai Ky Macaa took

a liking to me. Partly, I think because I was always

in rebellion against any presumption of authority

at The Hearth. Partly because he knew that I

would not hesitate to call him on anything,

that I accepted nothing on faith.

So it came about that J. Krishnamurti was to

give a talk at Carnagie Hall. And at the time,

having studied His writings quite intensely in

my youth, I still had a desire to see him in

person.

I asked Zai Ky Macaa if he would like to go

with me, since it was only a 45 mile trip

south to the city. He gave me a sneer that spoke

volumes. It said, "You are here, here with us

and you still wish to peruse that which has no

being, no reality, no real nourishment?"

But I persisted, I told him Krishnamurti was

mearly a philosopher that was attempting to

be intellectually objective about subjective

experiencing, not some self deluded religious

demagogue.

He told me that he was well aware what Krishnamurti

was. That I should know by now that nobody who

has ever become popular has really known anything

about what can be or how to bring it about.

He seemed to hold a similar

opinion about anyone who had written a book.

But Krishnamurti had mean so much to me

in years gone by, and for some reason something

within me wanted the contrast of a Salock

who, like Zai Ky Macaa was burning of consciousness

and who's presents could literally be felt when

he entered a room unseen. Felt like an energy

that was a gift. Like all of a sudden, you were

running on hi octane fuel.

Finally with bribes and a wager he agreed to let

me buy him a ticket and drive him to the hall.

And this is the most important thing that took place

during Krisnamurti's performance.

He came out and sat in a chair.

A young worshipper came out and

prostrated himself before him then

attached a microphone round his neck.

He then prostrated himself again and left the stage.

Zai Ky Macaa grunted at this, and I got

the distinct impression that at another time

and place he would have taken Krishnamurtis

head just for allowing this.

Krishnamurti began to talk, but the microphone

wasn't working. Another young follower

came out and prostrated himself before

Krisnamurti and then ever so humbly

and with visable awe and foreboding -adjusted

the microphone, reprostrated himself and left.

This scene replayed several times with

different clearly upset servile acolytes

dressed in appropriate Indian style costume.

But to no avail the mic just would not

work and nobody could hear him.

Finally some long haired roadie tech

type, a big bear of a guy dressed like

a lumberjack comes out.

Without the least show of deference

to old J. he walks up and seems to

jerk the microphone that is attached

to Krishnamurti by a loop around his neck.

he jerks it about so violently that I

thought he would surly snap the old man's

neck. Then the lumberjack steps back and

directs Krishnamurti to speak. It works

and the Jack lumbers off stage.

Zai Ky Macaa grunts again at this.

As if to let me know that this was truly

symbolic.

Krishnamurti does his sticke, nothing new,

nothing surprising.

Soon as it's over Zai Ky Macaa says,"Lets go eat."

When we get in the car I say, "So what do you think?"

He says, "He's not conscious."

And I knew it, but I had to hear him say it anyway.

And I knew he wouldn't say anymore.

What was there to say?

But perhaps the last and hardest of my boyhood

spiritual heroes to fall before the undeniable

enhanced conscious being of the Salock

was Gurdjieff. For I had spent years and years

with several people who had been his personal

students, and where undeniably remarkable

after a fashion.

And this only after I meet a Salock Berserker

whose eyes alone could transform one without

a word.

But that is another story.

Carlos Dwa · May 8, 2012

Hi,

I am Carlos Dwa, and I would like to point out that the above quote is very misleading in that it is not my or anyone's opinion. It is a part of the development of the characteristics for a group of bio-engineered poet-warriors that appear in my Science Fiction trilogy The Unwritten Book. That is to say, it is entirely fiction.

The Unwritten Book trilogy was written to give young males (and perhaps these days females too) who have become addicted to the stimulation of intense images and actions that are found in the mass media of the westernized world, a hint about the nature of authentic esoteric information, while maintaining their interest with intense narrative and extreme images.

If you are interested in how this went or what it consisted of you can use the look-inside function on amazon to brows through it.

Amazon.com: The Unwritten Book: Xellex (9780615440354): Carlos Dwa: Books

May you come to see how the secret keeps itself.