Zen Man with Smart Phone

Energy, energy, energy. We live in a technological world. Surfaces matter. But energy flows beneath. The underground of life. So easy now for one’s words to be heard. Blown through electronic windows. Cast upon internet currents. Caught by both spammer and seeker. What is your story? Your journey? Your life.

Myths and legends, Hobbits and Dragons still capture us. Our imagination. Yet we still face the reality of life. The droll, dreary trudge of daily labour. Myths allow me to see your life through a different lens. A mirror of reflection.

Old Zen man says, “chopping wood, carry bucket water ”

Young Zen kid says, “shopping good, smart water”

We need new mythologies perhaps. Integrating old and new technologies. The urban shaman uses both smart phone and traditional drum. Or download a native drumming MP3 file. Maybe order Sage in a Bottle from Shamanmarkets.com to purify the space. Or IPray and IQuran apps for the Muslim devout to remember to pray and face Mecca daily using smartphone compass. Maybe the smart phone technology is modern equivalent of the printing press technology discovered by Gutenburg in 1440. It is changing the way we communicate…

Yet these are all external aids to assist the inner journey….

The Pursuit of Happiness is the modern equivalent of a shamanic journey perhaps. Obstacles appear. Blood and gore representing the pain in pursuing happiness. Dark unhappy forces come with different faces on my journey. Familiar names. My own darkness lurks within. What still cages me. What stops me, you from walking up to our greatest fear, our most terrifying demon and kissing it. Evolving it. Walking through it. When does the terror become the bliss? Beast becomes Beauty.

Happiness. Love. Ugly. Hate. Just words. We make them come alive.

The Maori and The Madonna

We call a spiritual message or vision a Tohu in Maori. I am not religious, Catholic nor follow any Monastic Creed or Da Vincian Code. But the Madonna or Mother Mary seemed to be coming into my life over the past few years. Well, I am not sure whether I have the right Mary. Is Mary the Mother or the Wife of Jesus? I dunno yet the Mother feels right to me. I do not claim to know what these mean nor make any extraordinary claims. They just happened to me here in New Zealand. A Maori Man and The Madonna

Tohu One – First Sign
In 2007, I was doing my own 24 hour vigil, no food, no water, no sleep inside a secluded forest space. About 10 paces long by 10 paces wide. I did not leave this space and stayed there for the whole 24 hour vigil. Just watching myself. Tracking my thoughts, feelings and movements over this time. Inside this space. I would place a stone into a hole for each hour passing. A lesson learnt. 24 stones in total. At around 2am in the darkness, I noticed a white light in the trees. It perplexed me. It looked like a hooded figure holding a child. I thought I was just imaging things. It stayed there so I looked away. Avoiding it. Rationalised that it was just starlight through the tree canopy. But I remembered crying and this feeling of compassion. Maybe I was feeling sorry for myself. Who knows. So I waited until 6.05am in morning and wrote down the following..

Here is a transcription of the note above:
“6.05am 21 Jan 07. It is now dawn and much lighter. Just remembering that white light. The outline looked like Mother Mary with robe over head looking down. Well it was the sky through the canopy. Yet why it appeared bright white when all the other spaces appeared black? I don’t know. Maybe Mother Mary is my guide. The lesson I got from the light was compassion. I know the eyes can play tricks when tired and in the dark. But I kept blinking my eyes and closing them to make it go away. It was starting to annoy me cause it was right in my face. I dunno but to give thanks. I am looking at the same space right now in the light of day. It just looks like a tree canopy with leaves and twigs. Maybe this was the vision. Lesson. Believe in Visions and Miracles of Life. Believe. 22 Stone: Belief – Believe it and It is.”

Tohu Two – Second Sign
Over a year later in September 2008, again out in the forest. I had dug a cave in the side of a bank to sleep in. It was getting dark and I had lit a candle inside to continue digging. I had just finished when I decided to pull a rock out of the back cave wall. The shadow cast on the wall from the candle onto the rock indention looked like the Mother Mary holding a baby. So I decided to wait until morning and have another look. It looked different in the daylight coming through the cave entrance. But I knew that there was an outline, an imprint on the wall. So I shaped the soft rock with my spade and made a small altar. I left the candle and some flowers. This black and white photo was taken when I left the cave. Ironically a little baby niece called Te Puea was born the same time I made this little altar. So I dedicated this little altar to her birth. She is now 8 years old (as at 2015).

Tohu Three – Third Sign.
In March 2012, I was visiting an eco-village Te Tihi near Turangi, Taupo here in New Zealand when I was talking to Maori man whose name was Kereopa. He seemed a spiritual man with moko tattooed on his face. For some reason, our conversation turned to the Madonna and I shared the above experiences.
He looks at me and says,
I have something to give you.
You must be the one I have give this taonga (talisman) to?
So he goes away and comes back with a green rosary bead with Mother Mary and a Crucifix. He had been given it by a priest or nun from some monastery in Europe I think. I could have this wrong. He was told that he would meet someone whose story would resonate and he was to give this rosary. He says a prayer and gives this to me.

I only tell you this because it must have some significance for me. This is part of my mythology. Part of my life story. My own book of mystical experiences. Yet Madonna does not really fit into my Maori spirituality as I know it. Papatuanuku, Hinenuitepo, Hinenuiteao, Hinemoana, Kokawhenua and the other many female Maori goddesses. Maybe it comes from my Gaelic lineage. I dunno. Maybe I need to let go my cultural preferences.  Maybe this goes a lot deeper than my surface story here. A good friend said it was part of the Mother Earth, Gaia, Sophia energy coming through me. Papatuanuku as she is known here in Aotearoa. Hmmm it is what it is. Or whatever meaning we take from it.

You must track the spiritual signs or tohu that happen in your life. It is part of your own mythology. Your life story. Who knows what wonders may reveal themselves? The great mystery behind our world of man-made appearances.



Sometimes I like to think like a physicist sitting beside a fire. Under a starlit night. Listening to a wizened old Maori tohunga reciting the genealogy of the stars. Eyes shut. Intoning the sounds of creation. Crackling fire. Sparks rising. The physicist is writing in his notebook. Logic meets Logos. Mathematical notations. Units of Lightness. Darkness. Gravity. Levity.  Inner world of thought, feelings, beating heart. Outer world of stars, fire, chanting, night sky… Writing is the first crystalisation of thought into form. The first word, symbol, sound image inked onto the papyrus of reality.

On his first page, he writes something like this..


I believe the increasing numbering of the senses reaches a point of synthesis where we “kapow” create a new reality born of infinite streams of SHFTS happening multidimensionally in the eternal NOW…NOW…NOW…and NOW.. Yes, the subtle inner senses of hunger, thirst and so forth. Then for me it jumps into the realm of quantum physics where the energies associated with each sense. The use of E=MC2 where C = light squared = Consciousness magnified. M = prism of matter that manifests the incoming consciousness stream into E sensations of beingness. If we clean our prism filters and expand our subtle shfts then we can perceive the greater realms of extrasensory perception so much more. I like to draw pictures, use physics and mathematics to express my thoughts. Aio Koa Physics meets Metaphysics meets Megazicks the Impossibull.

Seasons Repeat Themselves

If I seem to repeat messages then it is because they are important to me. I am really writing for myself. Yet if you find benefit in my words then feel free to be my guest. To sit down and share my campfire of thinking. The warmth is free for all. We are all fellow travellers in this journey of life.

I keep repeating messages so that I remember who I really am. I keep forgetting. Then I remember briefly. That I am an immortal soul embodied inside a human form wearing different identities, labels, maps and roles. Then I forget. I get caught up in this makeup world. Inside the many mirrors. I must have compassion for all my reflections I see. I am not here to preach anything to anyone except to the face I see in the mirror. To keep repeating a message from his deepest heart, her highest soul that he, she, it has always been loved since Creation first breathed life into it.

I forget..

I forget that I chose this life, my parents, my childhood, my children, my enemies, my friends, my life experiences. Without them, I would have no story to my existence. No contrast. No colour. Just my own pure vibration of spiritual light without a body to bruise, abuse, control, cut, love, kill, laugh experience. My Immortal Soul chose to come down into the “Little Self” who is writing this right now. By time Little Self loses his baby teeth around 6 years or so, his little mind is already caught inside the man-made web of this life. Little Self forgets my “Bigger Self” apart from little moments of huge love, compassion and freedom. I then remember.

I remember…

Some things are perennial. Like the Spring that keeps repeating itself. The melting snow dissolves. Purifying my soul. New shoots awaken. Joy is the opening of my hearts own springwaters gushing from the snow covered mountains within. Lift your eyes above the mountains to the blue yonder sky. Look at the sky and let it touch you. Let it call you.  Fall in love with that great blue orb of light. As if your spirit leaves your body and flies up upon the winds. Feel your blood is pumping with the heart of an eagle. The winds touching your breastbone as the muscles of flight surge within you. Your magnificent wings beating upwards into the currents of light..

You must not let your senses keep you captive. Nor let your logic cage you. Density is the inverse of levity. You must rise again and again. Even if it is momentary flight of freedom lasting only seconds before your eyes glaze over and Work commands your attention. Just smile and let your winged thoughts lift your face…

This is why we must keep repeating our true voice. Be like the Spring that keeps returning again and again.



The Chances of Life – The Choices I Make

Remember that what brings you to these words, images and page right now is a choice! A sequence of choices that culminate in you reading this right now. Remember that there is a logic, your internal algorithm that sifts through all this internet to find one word, image or person that answers your search. Embryonic choices that zigzag into an illuminated sphere of discovery. Or not.

Then chance takes over. This is where life intervenes.Life makes the choice. Whether I like it or not.

Always put the heat over your choices. Put the heat over your chances. Find out what endures, what melts down. Use your own logic to discern spiritual teachings, gurus, channels and information. Put what I say into your imaginary furnace. Hammer it. Temper it. Bend it. Find what is useful for you. Burn the rest.

Let no God, Demon, Man, Woman or Beast ever take away your right.  To forge your own truth. Sounds extreme but I believe in the freedom of the individual pursuit of truth. Yes, there are consequences. Fire still burns, speed still kills so have respect for life. Life is a awesome feedback mechanism that makes it real. We often get what we feel and think about the most. You are free to think your worst or best. Yet some thoughts never die. Each thought is a choice that begets an experience be it good, bad or indifferent! Even if you have chased a 1000 fantasies, fled a 1000 fears and made a 1000 stupid choices. They are YOUR fantasies, YOUR fears, YOUR stupidity. I have my own. Some thoughts never die?

How do we kill a thought?

You make a choice eh! Here is my painting of a circling light fields radiating from a square embryo connected to umbilical series of zig zag choices.

My face is actually at the centre of the square embryo if you stare with open mind.


Do the Work

So much information around. Internet is like an extension of my brain. It sits inside a bigger Space called my Mind. Bytes and bits hurling through this Mind Space like rays and rays of infinite light falling on the atmosphere of my conscious awareness. Photonic, harmonic, tectonic, lots of ironics.

Yet I need to do the Work? Filtering, cleaning, circulating, orbiting. Copying the Earth as she rotates and spirals old energy into new spaces. I need to do the same. Shake my head. Find my heart.

Really this site is about my own search, discovering my own truths. It is not meant to be any thing special. A journey of one man’s life, a journalling of my own insights.

I must do the Work. Face the struggle of new growth. Daily growth. Shed old beliefs like old leaves falling from my own Tree of Life. Small changes 1% performed daily eventually make great transformations over time. Some of my thoughts are not new. I have written them down in my own handwriting many years ago. Sat there waiting to be regrown. I look at my fingernails as I type this. I look at them for couple seconds. No movement I can see but I only cut them three or four days ago yet that tiny whitish arc is already growing outwards. Soon to be darkened by the earth of daily life. At a cellular level, there is movement of cells building up the nail. Naturale or polished to reflect the person or the hand. When does the hand stop? Or my brain begin? Just because medicine shows me a picture of a brain in my head, does not stop me from imagining having brains inside my cells.

Complexities like this I enjoy. It is good training to take meaningless observations or questions that soon get judged and discarded with “ah that is just pointless, going around circles, what is your point, you are talking rubbish?”

Does your rubbish talk?


One must do the Work. Turn the soil of hardened thought. Remove the habitual response. Till the cultural clod. Be grateful for the field of infinite fertility that we walk in. Yet be aware of the limitations of the Brain.  Myopia of the Senses. Your Garden of Eden is within.You must daily walk through it on the Way to Work.


Your Own Warrior Spirit

I recently had a writer for Discovery Channel Magazine call me from Singapore to interview me about Maori warrior arts. I had done my Masters of Philosophy on Maori Warrior Arts and Strategy as well as being former Kiwi Army officer, trained in unarmed combat and blah blah. During my time in the NZ Army in 1994, I had led an Army project team which researched the Maori taiaha as a viable close quarter battle weapon which could form an integral part of the NZ Army martial art culture called Ngati Tumatauenga. 


Anyway, the magazine was covering 6 warrior cultures: Shaolin, Ninja, Samurai, Sumo, Dayak and Maori. The interviewer wanted to cover various weapons of war such as shaolin nine-section whips through to Dayak blowpipes to Ninja eye-blinding sachets of ash through to Maori taiaha. The importance of the metaphysical influences such Dayak tattoos, Maori moko, Ninja kuji and other spiritual forms. Various training, skills and legendary warriors. Who was the best etc?

I was reluctant initially because every warrior style is relevant to its culture, its environment, its lifeforce. This emphasis on pure combat, who is the best warrior has always struck me as odd. The last man standing. So macho. Bit like the Mixed Martial Arts inside cages. So dense. Gladitorial. Something needs to change. Blending of Opposing Forces. Brute Force with Gentle Form. Hard Hand and Kind Heart. Unity of Opposities. We need something bigger than video games and reality TV. We more likely to get road rage, TV rage, queue rage at MacDonalds than face an actual armed attack. You do the calculations. Work out the chances of being attacked physically. We will more likely suffer self-inflicted negative thoughts or emotional upsets than getting shot today.  This is the time to serve something bigger than just being a video game warrior. Kids particularly boys are spending more time being warriors on video games. Getting extra weapons for killing more people. Go back a stage if you get killed then resurrect your character. Lots of blood, severed limbs, burnt bodies. In real life, getting cut, burnt and bashed stills hurt. But kids act out what they see in video games, movies and TV. This global market for gratuitous violence and multiple entertainment is what was really driving the Discovery Magazine article in my opinion.

I asked the interviewer, “I don’t want to hype up the Maori warrior – the myth or the reality. Nor diminish any of the other warrior cultures. The greatest warrior will one day die as surely as the sun sets. Just another memory beneath the sands of time. I look at the modern world, what is the point of being the greatest warrior race on a dying planet”? Is not the greater global battle the one where we unite to defeat our own predatorial behaviours and heal our own aggression towards the Earth and each other. Save the oceans, forests, rivers and eco-systems of the planet. Where is the Shaolin warrior to defend the dying rivers of China. Or the Dayak to defend the diminishing forests of Borneo? Or the Sumo warrior protecting the Japanese children from nuclear radiation? Or the Maori warrior defending her tribal seabeds from oil drilling. Yes, they exist but not in the traditional warrior image carrying weapons of war. It is less about the tradition but more about the spirit. The definition of warrior is not about physical combat. It is more subtle. It can involve legal battleground. It can be the workplace. In a classroom. At home. Or against racism. Or sexism. Or tribalism. Or religion. Or corporatism. Or the simple act of surviving. Feeding your family. The struggles of life itself.

We all have a warrior spirit. Inside the body we have. When have we put ourselves in harm’s way. When have we stood up for something. When have we admired someone for doing something they believed in. It is there inside us. Your very own nature will show you, give you clues. It is not purely defined by large muscle, sharp intellect or combat skills – these are essentially tools for the warrior spirit to use.

We must cultivate this warrior spirit. It is an energy that can empower us, give us inner strength. It needs to be respected and used as needed. Just know that you have it in you. It will give you strength that you thought impossible. Not just physical. You must contemplate it. Sharpen it with daily reflection. Strengthen it with prayer. Your body will grow old and life will change you. Your muscle and bone mass will atrophy and age will take its toll.  Be like the seasons of nature. Even an old tree can turn a green leaf in spring. So learn to live in accordance with the seasons. Yet remember who you really are? You are more than just a physical body…

We are living in uncertain times. Death is approaching in many forms.


PS. Here is a link to the finished Discovery channel article. Read it with an open mind. http://dl.dropbox.com/u/77895095/discovery-warrior.pdf.