Humming brings about calamities;
Prayers with an fattened ox.

Yin protects the window;
Yang protects the door.
The elements do not oppose each other.

Closing off friends with a lattice window.
Protection is the chief possession.

Journal - I got more of the tapes from Ric. I'm starting from the beginning. I smudged the house while listening to the songs from the first pipe ceremony. Here, on my side of the stereo, it's pouring down rain. There are many morning birds and bugs on the tape. The sound of the taped planes mix well with the thunder.

Now I am listening to the second side which Ric labeled "The Earth Weeps." It sounds pretty "New Age" but wails. The passing planes make transitions. The tape recorder moves with a "CLACK." The wind was blowing, thundering in the microphone and gently moving the windchimes. So far, there hasn't been a dull moment. All of it moves to the rhythm of my breathing. Crows and grackles break the ebb and flow, and a Negro work song appears. "Hodie!" This was a special day. Swallows are weeping, moaning in chorus with the dying mosquitoes. I remember my blanket being covered with fire ants. The birds are crying bitterly. When they lose their voices, they become the wind. The wind is hot and thick with bugs. The only humans are in airplanes flying over us or are they from another world?

I've killed to many ants in my past. The thundering wind magnifies my conscience. The earth seems to be in its fullest glory. Its life and death struggles seem more honorable than any Man's war. What if mankind is being judge at this very moment? Thank God I wasn't judging mankind at that moment. I saw people as consumers and/or usurpers. My music seems to express the pain of purgation. I watch myself die as my soul flies in the form of sound. I'm dying while cars of people drive by getting an inexpensive glance at the "Harmonic Convergence." Too bad we weren't selling hot dogs.

It's difficult telling which is thunder and which is wind; what is then and what is now. The bugs have their say. They all have surely died by now. Does a bird have to be consumed in flames in order to be spiritual. I remember the sun forming a flaming shield which was our medicine wheel. A patch of fire, bordered by eagle feathers and spears draws man's disease from the earth. "The Earth Weeps." I weep. There is such beauty there but one must be willing to endure the flames in order to experience it and be part of it. Everyone is gone in air-conditioned cars, planes, or buildings. They will come out when the flames have almost died out, dressed in white, ready to experience some nice atmosphere, free music, and a beautiful sunset. The heat would be just bearable. The tape stopped suddenly.

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