by Jon Rappoport
March 23, 2022
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When Walt Whitman wrote, “I sing the body electric,” and when he wrote his long poems, he was doing a kind of art that also sustained his own physical form and made it more alive. He saw healing everywhere and he created it and he broadcast it. He projected, into the American dream, a lightning bolt of improvisation that carried energy right down into the cells of the body.
If you were to open his book of grace and read out loud, boldly, and with energy, Song of Myself, you would experience a piece of this great unknown territory. It would enter your blood and brain and taste buds and carry a new spring.
There are some people who hear the word CREATE and wake up, as if a new flashing music has begun.
This lone word makes them see something untamed and astonishing.
They feel the sound of a Niagara approaching.
They suddenly know why they are alive.
When people strip away all the hogwash that has been passed off as spiritual enlightenment for centuries, fire IS what they are left with. The creative fire IS the IT they’ve been after. IS the real thing. Finally.
99% of the world has been trained like rats to adore systems. Give them a system and they’re ready to cuddle up and take it all in. If they have questions, or if they want to argue, it’s about how to tweak the system to make it a little better. And with every move they make, they put another blanket over the Fire Within.
You can’t make THE CREATIVE into a debating society, because people will turn that into another system. You have to go for actual experience.
Imagine you’re suddenly a singer in the middle of a choir. That’s your whole life. This choir has no sheet music and no plan. The choir just sings, all at once. There is no together and there is no leader and there is no imposed harmony. There is just the choir. Everyone sings. It makes no sense. But you do it anyway. It’s chaos. It’s titanic and bizarre. But eventually, out of the chaos and in the chaos you find a wild beauty no one has ever heard before. It happens. And it makes the whole body and the whole mind and the whole consciousness go into a state of ecstasy.
That would be a creative experience. No one would be able to walk away from it and analyze it or label it. No one would be able to devalue it by comparing it to something else. No one would be able to debate the fine points, because there were no fine points.
I’m always amused when people discuss art as if it’s some sort of perfumed and expensive turned-out fruitcake. As if art exists in a room where the initiated are permitted to make a few deft comments in a vacuum. As if art is a few dollars more for something that hangs on a wall.
Art is a word that should be oceanic. It should shake and blow apart the pillars of the foul smug boredom of the soul.
Art is about what the individual invents when he is on fire and doesn’t care about concealing it. It’s about what the individual invents when he has thrown off the false front that is slowly strangling him.
Art is about the end of mindless postponement. It’s about what happens when you burn up the pretty and petty little obsessions. It’s about emerging from the empty suit and empty machine of society that goes around and around and sucks away the vital bloodstream.
Art is about destroying the old order and the new order and the present order, with a glance.
It’s about spearing the old apple on the point of a glittering sword and opening up the whole rotting crust that has attached itself to the tree of life.
It’s about shrugging off the widely praised harmonies of the living dead.
If art is a garden, the garden grows like a hurricane. It fills the heart many times. It marches out to the trees at the edge of the forest and into the canopy. It brings out cactus and rose and iris and magnolia. It erupts and subsides. It explodes after the rain. Like the famous Simon Rhodia, who made serpentine towers in Watts, California, from glass and metal and ceramic castoffs, the author takes his garden into unknown territory.
Like Johnny Appleseed, he goes wherever he can, as far as he can, until whole hillsides and roadsides and riverbanks are absorbed. Re-making the world.
At night he dreams of new countries where he can lead the garden. Where chard and tomatoes and tulips and lilies and turnips and oak and maple and aspen and palm and plum and spinach and gardenias and goldenseal and lilacs and hydrangea and rhododendron and corn and flax and pine can sprint to the horizon.
He is the general of this army and the foot soldier and the drummer and the hero. Stroller in the wind. Engraver, muralist. Titan. A dozer in the desert flower, the sailor along banks of green saplings. The driving rain and the drying sun. A black leopard in miles of forest.
A maker of music who has simultaneously set a hundred orchestras in miles of red reflecting canyons playing a symphony that has no beginning and no end but only an endless middle.
(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)
Jon Rappoport
The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.
Outside the Reality Machine 
I find at my age of 68, I am no longer attracted to another group that’s offering “enlightenment”, “transformation”. I finally can hear my own “music” and that’s what keeps me going. Thank you for this very beautiful message.
There is no end to creation; that’s the whole point. There is always something new waiting to be discovered and expressed from within us as individuals. It’s the ALL expressing through us, if we let it.
Been reading this stuff for 3 to 4years now.Can’t get enough.
Many Moons Ago
I Heard Jon Speak
On This Phenomenon(a)
That He Directly
Experienced.
He & His Buddies
Got Their Friends
Together
For A Dance Party.
Mind You,
None Were Ordered
To Dance
If They Preferred Not.
He & Buds
In Sensitivity,
Placed Chairs About
The Walls.
Not,
For Non-Experiencing
Flowers or Blossoms,
But So They Could
Sense,
Nonetheless.
At Purported
Dances’ “End”
Someone
No One Could Really
Ever Tell,
Made Funky Noises
In The Filled
Music House
& Home.
*
…I’ll leave you to listen
To The Rest of The Story
Via Jon’s Trilogy.
“A black leopard in miles of forest.”
Ooohh….that one struck a cord!!!
“Art is a word that should be oceanic. It should shake and blow apart the pillars of the foul smug boredom of the soul.”
Here is one reason why so many people prefer to be Followers and stay in well-dug trenches and ruts and deny their power of Imagination: The idea and power of ‘CREATE’ scares the living crap out of them.
For them, it’s like always having your finger on the nuclear button every waking moment and being afraid you might just push it. You don’t know what you might unleash and what this might do to you. The Rut is safe and non-threatening. Sure, it’s boring and dead. But it’s SAFE. And people around you won’t call you bad names in Anti-Social media.
Something in them scares them instead of making them feel empowered and inspired. Confusion. Lack of self-image. Lack of confidence. Lack of inspiration. Lack of… SOMETHING makes them fear a quality of being that is one of their greatest assets. And the loss of NOT using this Power in their lives both to them individually and the World is beyond measure.
The Power Elitist Predator Class well knows the power of Imagination. That’s why They do everything in Their power to see that this power and knowledge of it by We the People is snuffed out of Society.
The way things are going They just might finish the job and snuff out the knowledge and feeling of Create in whatever number of humans remain after the Current Great Culling.
The question is… will ‘Create’ then be dead and gone forever or will it courageously scratch its way back into the human consciousness some time in the future? Thus the rush to turn us all into machines fully connected to The Predator Grid of control and dehumanization.
Machines can be easily controlled and made into whatever one wants them to be. True humans will never be conquered or turned into ‘nothings’ that exist only to satisfy and amuse a deranged Predator Class.
“Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman https://whitmanarchive.org/published/LG/1891/poems/27
I have nothing to say ole man. I am dumbed and you are a talent.
“The Power Elitist Predator Class well knows the power of Imagination. That’s why They do everything in Their power to see that this power and knowledge of it by We the People is snuffed out of Society.”
So true, Roundball Shaman. And they did it by inventing Hollywood. By selecting who would mindlessly portray and play every character, every time, so that only those elite actors and “artists” could have the big stage.
I ask people, “How is that with so many millions of fabulously talented artists and musicians in the world, the same ones stay in the limelight, with their platinum records and movie roles and documentaries about their lives?” Why are “artists” like Marina Abramovic hailed as edgy and profound, while far more brilliant artists are kicked to the curb? Why are “musicians” like Taylor Swift lauded as amazing, while far more real musicians and singers with actual talent go completely unnoticed, and even dissed on?
I know you know the answer: Because the predator class is a death-cult. They invert everything as an evil mockery of creativity, truth, freedom, love, joy, and morality.
As a musician, writer, and artist, I well know the reality of Hellyweird, which I left nearly two decades ago to stop giving it any of my beautiful energy!
“Create” always finds a way.
This amazing piece somehow reminds me of when I first realized that the status quo, which I tried to fit into, was like a trap designed to keep you away from your own unique individuality, as if you were taught to ignore your own intuition in order to be like everyone else who lacks critical thinking skills, the ability to think for oneself, and so on. I tried to live in a world where most people think and act the same way… but then something happened to me one night that changed the way I see the world… In short, it’s as if the energy within me that I’ve tried to suppress my entire life has sprouted like a plant growing through concrete. My body was asleep and I couldn’t move, but my mind was wide awake, and then in my mind’s eye, a violet flame appeared, a guiding light that has always been, is, and always will be part of what I am (it’s hard to describe), reminding me of who/what I really am, and then I was out and had a pleasant odyssey beyond the physical in a place where no gravity can hold you down. I could go into great depth about my journeys, but I don’t want to waste your time with a long comment. Anyway, I just finished reading this piece (of art) and want to encourage you to keep your passion for your work strong. I enjoy reading the blogs on this site.
Thank you for posting this.
“I am fond of music I think because it is so amoral. Everything else is moral and I am after something that isn’t.
― Hermann Hesse, Demian, plus the following:
“The things we see are the same things that are within us. There is no reality except the one contained within us. That is why so many people live such an unreal life. They take the images outside them for reality and never allow the world within to assert itself.”
“I live in my dreams — that’s what you sense. Other people live in dreams, but not in their own. That’s the difference.”
“I realize today that nothing in the world is more distasteful to a man than to take the path that leads to himself.”
“Those who are too lazy and comfortable to think for themselves and be their own judges obey the laws. Others sense their own laws within them.”
“Gaze into the fire, into the clouds, and as soon as the inner voices begin to speak… surrender to them. Don’t ask first whether it’s permitted, or would please your teachers or father or some god. You will ruin yourself if you do that.”
“You’ve never lived what you are thinking, and that isn’t good. Only the ideas we actually live are of any value.”
“I wanted only to live in accord with the promptings which came from my true self. Why was that so very difficult?”
“An enlightened man had but one duty – to seek the way to himself, to reach inner certainty, to grope his way forward, no matter where it led.”
“Each of us has to find out for himself what is permitted and what is forbidden.. forbidden for him. It’s possible for one never to transgress a single law and still be a bastard. And vice versa.”
“You knew all along that your sanctioned world was only half the world, and you tried to suppress the other half the same way the priests and teachers do. You won’t succeed. No one succeeds in this once he has begun to think.”
“If you need something desperately and find it, this is not an accident; your own craving and compulsion leads you to it.”
“(We) consist of everything the world consists of, each of us, and just as our body contains the genealogical table of evolution as far back as the fish and even much further, so we bear everything in our soul that once was alive in the soul of men. Every god and devil that ever existed, be it among the Greeks, Chinese, or Zulus, are within us, exist as latent possibilities, as wishes, as alternatives. If the human race were to vanish from the face of the earth save for one halfway talented child that had received no education, this child would rediscover the entire course of evolution, it would be capable of producing everything once more, gods and demons, paradises, commandments, the Old and New Testament.”
“At one time I had given much thought to why men were so very rarely capable of living for an ideal. Now I saw that many, no, all men were capable of dying for one.”
(All are quotes from “Demian” by Hermann Hesse)