KENTARO KUMANOMIDO

Quantified Idealism. 2020. Interactive autobiographical website. Use the 'Play on itch.io' button above then hit 'Run QI'

Contents: WELCOME TO THE HOUSE OF KA; I TOUCHED THE VOID IN CHICAGO; CHRONICLES OF KENTARO, INTRODUCTION; WEST COAST THE FIRST TIME

Excerpt from:

WEST COAST THE FIRST TIME

Monday, July 23, 2012. Northwest Portland. World Cup Roaster’s. Eating a delicious-as-fuck curry chicken panini. 1:00 PM. It doesn’t even make sense to try and do a time based recap of the past few days at Wolf Creek. Faerie time has no relation to Babylon time. Okay, first, Portland is stupid. It’s beautiful, it’s soft-edged, wimpy, and tremendous. It’s too easy. Thank you, no really, thank you. But wait. V and her zines are also crazy beautiful works of art. I love them.

Okay, here’s the story that I feel’s important. Friday night after dinner, V, S, and I went over to the smoking shack shade structure to smoke and hang out. We talked about the Michael Teachings, and about other beautiful topics that I don’t even remember. What I can say now is that my soul is distinct from, but intrinsically intertwined with, my body. The soul, wherever it comes from, decides to inhabit this human form to act out it’s desires, to assert its magnificent individuality, to know the beauty of the universe through the body. What is pleasurable to the body is pleasurable to the soul. Now I understand what it means to give devotion to God—it means to give the soul what it wants. The body/personality is a vessel that acts, and brings to the soul (which is a filament of the universal consciousness) joy. My soul told my body that I needed to come to Wolf Creek. I remember feeling shitty in Temescal because I wasn’t gonna go. That subtly shitty feeling is a sign that I am not following the path that I am meant to be on.

Oh yeah, the creek moment was also significant. The morning after the smoking shack experience, I was still in a state of awe. I went down to the creek to journal. I was called to walk south along the creek. I walked slowly and clumsily. I thought I had found the perfect spot, but nope, I fell on my butt. It still hurts. S told me that on the night of my vision he tuned into one of his shamanic practices and was able to see his friends through my point of view, finding a renewed appreciation for them. I asked him how he does it. He said that he can’t explain it in words. That if I wanted to learn how, I could do years of intense study, or we could take mushrooms together and he could show me. I fucking trust the shit out of S. Okay, once things settled down after my vision, Feist was playing in the barn, of course. The truth lies… I feel it all… I definitely cried. Hot damn. Anyways, back to the creek. I eventually found a suitable place to sit and write, though I didn’t actually end up journaling. I did read a bit of V’s zine on the application of magic though. Really, I came to the creek to forgive myself for the pain I put myself through last fall. I cried, loudly, and probably could have cried a lot more. I realize that I don’t really need a witness in order to express my grief, I just need a place or space where I can cry really fucking loudly without being self-conscious about it. So yeah, I need to find places to be loud, cry, scream, etc. I don’t ever want to fucking ignore the body again. Japan. The other big question. So this is where I’m at this moment: I’ll go to gathering at Zuni, leaving the space/time after that completely open, with the intention for something beautiful and surprising to emerge after. But really, I need to stop pretending like I know what I am supposed to do. The process of coming into my power will be terrifying and incredible. Like being born. There is no way to predict what my next step will be, so there is no point in expending the energy to try and figure it out. I should be using my energy to become sensitive to my more subtle dimensions. Trying to discern what feels right, more true to my soul.

Again. It was a bit hard finding Wolf Creek. I assume they don’t make it overly obvious how to get there because they require some degree of anonymity. When I arrived in the rain it was such a vision. I saw no one and had no idea where exactly to go. No one answered when I knocked on Garden House but I eventually found the barn. There V was, this beautiful, insane acting creature, with her newly finished birch bench. I think her technique with strangers is to act super bizarre and loud. I’m sure it is quite effective for keeping some people away from her but I found it intriguing. I was obviously a little disoriented, thinking, is everyone at Wolf Creek this on edge? But soon I found out that she is incredibly intelligent and wise. When I met J I was immediately attracted to him. Eventually we connected about Witchcamp. Ugh, Witchcamp! So cool! I also told him about my sadness, my experience of grief for the world. He told me that he feels the same. That he has a daily practice of crying with the stream, the creek as his witness. So beautiful. I could have cried right then I felt so safe, so connected. J invited me to join him on working on his new water shrine, but I’ve yet to follow up on that. Anyways, moving on. I was so impressed by A’s connection with and her empathy for the forest. She’s so connected with the woods, the trees. She has heard them speak and she has been touched by their spirits. I want to go deeper into that. I want to cultivate my relationship with the forest, with trees. I want to be their friend and have a reciprocal relationship with them. I want to share in their abundance. I had a great conversation with S about building queer community. It sounds like he’s had a lot of experience with building queer spiritual community in Seattle.

But yeah, Wolf Creek really isn’t an intentional community like the ecovillages in Missouri. The people living there are either visitors, or are stewards who take care of the land so that gatherings can take place. That seems to be its primary function, a space for gathering, rather than a space for a long term solid community or for growing food. There seems to be a political schism between the steward community and the broader community of Nomenous, the organization that owns the land and is responsible for its financial wellbeing. A in particular seems to symbolize the direction that I would personally like to see the land go, but where Nomenous would not: trans and genderqueer, long-term, more active forest management and such.

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