Am on a paradisical beach about three kilometers from Livingstone, Guatamala.
It is the place of the Garafuna, descendents of African survivors whose slave ship became ship wrecked on this coast. It is the coast of the pirates who the Garufuna gave refuge to, in return for the pirates giving protection to the Garufunas pueblos.
It is still the extended Mayab, the land of the Maya. There are the people speaking the Mayan languages. There are the ruined cities in the jungle in back of the beach.
I ended my first book, The Jah DEP, and started this journey I'm on, by stating my intent to go to Jamaica. But the more I learned of the angry, resentful reality of Jamaica, the less inclined I was to go there.
This is the place that I was seeking.
It is an ideal, alternative Carribean reality. Here the indigenas people were not exterminated as they were in the rest of the Carribean. Here the black people became free as soon as their slave ships struck the physicality of America. They never had to live in the culture of slavery. Here is refuge for white people seeking an alternative to business as usual. Although there are many Evangelico Churches, the dominant spiritual paradigm is Gnostic Rastafari.
Here on the beach we discuss Selassie, make music, discuss electromagnetic pulse generators, see Popular Science, August 2004, and the fall of Babylon.
Here is where ships have always gone during the storm, seeking refuge in the enclosed, sheltered waters of the Rio Dulce.
Here is where I plan the Gnostic Insurgency.
I will learn Spanish well enought to do justice to the shock rhetoric of Rabbi Yeshua, the quantum laws of Qabala.
I consult with the I Ching who tells me of the arousing force of the thunder and the lighting and the creative, and my further work in the vine yards of not business as usual.