In the United States when I was born in 1952, the airways carried a beat from a drum. (A different drummer?) This beat brought forth what was known as the "Beat Generation". Anyone who followed this beat had an opportunity to experience a breakthrough in consciousness. Some did and some didn’t.

When you think of drums it’s hard not to think of native American Indians. Also, drums come to mind when thinking of the African beat brought to the Americas hundreds of years ago. The Beat Generation’s beat originated as an experience at the level of the heart, where a shift occurred in the ability to perceive. This generation was preceded by a lot of individuals who had breakthroughs in their own right around the turn of the century from the beginning of 1900’s through to the 1940’s. This information was starting to expand through publications and scientific discoveries like electricity and radio. The Beat Generation began to correlate large pools of information available in the airways. This provided more Light that opened the heart to a new level. The age old question of the meaning of life asked each generation focused with new enthusiasm.

The blending of folk music, jazz, and rhythm and blues, along with and the advent of the electric guitar, brought forth rock and roll. Sex, drugs and rock and roll gave people once again an opportunity to experience a breakthrough in consciousness. Psychedelics gave the actual vision to whomever would dare to take them, that everything in life iz alive. Some people took advantage of mind expansion and others didn’t. In hind sight it didn’t matter whether you took drugs or not. Today people everywhere find their minds being expanded quite rapidly (because of and in spite of themselves).

In 1966 I was 14 years old and I participated in a summer outdoor adventure program for 17 days. We canoed down part of the Alagash River in Maine. A group of boys were put together from around the New England area and three men guided this bunch of teens. One man was a licensed guide from Maine, one was a native American Indian who was expert in canoeing and the third one was a bearded long-hair from Greenwich Village with a guitar strapped to his back who rode a motorcycle. We traversed the wilderness together. Our adventures included killing a bear for food, crashing canoes in the rapids and, finally, climbing Mount Katahdin.

I was left with three experiences that are highlights etched in memory. The first one was when one of the kids killed a chipmunk with a long stick for no reason. The Maine guide chewed this kid out so ferociously he made the kid cry. Respect for life became paramount in my mind. On another day I had some free time and walked by myself into the woods away from camp. I missed home so badly that lonesomeness overcame me and I began to cry. I never forgot this moment because I have to this day carried that longing for true home. The third thing that stood out happened one night around the campfire. The bearded one took out his guitar and sang "Mr. Tambourine Man" by Bob Dylan. When I heard that tune I knew right then and there I had something to follow. I had heard the beat behind the music and words. I heard my own heart.

A year later our family moved from Connecticut to a North Shore suburb of Chicago. There I had my first encounter with drugs. I took one of my sister’s diet pills because she told me they gave her high energy. So, I took one that had enough force to keep me up all night. For the first time in a concentrated meditation I contemplated the big questions of life and concluded that I must rewrite the Bible. The Bible had to be wrong if all these people around the world were reading this book and the world was still in such a mess. I didn’t need anyone to tell me, my heart already had.

In 1969 I went to the now infamous musical concert in Woodstock, New York. There I listened to my heart again. I knew this generation with its beat was over for me. Finished. I left in the middle of the concert, and thought to myself, "There must be something more".

One Spring night in 1970 I found myself at a public talk in a woman’s house. She played a tape recording of a man from Colorado who spoke with authority about the Garden of Eden being the true home for human beings. My heart skipped a beat as it jumped for joy. Finally, I felt a heart connection with a true story. I thought to myself that night, "So, this iz what the world has been trying to cover up and keep hidden away so no one will find out".

Then in my senior year of high school, I along with a few friends bought some land in Maine to get away from it all, so we started a commune. One summer of that and I realized we had no centering point of agreement to allow us to live together in peace!

In 1996 my father was dying of brain cancer and a part of me also started to die. I fell off my high horse of thinking that I knew all the answers to life. As my father physically died, all my concepts of God and life dropped dead. I plunged deep into my psyche for something to hold on to. I couldn’t find a handle and gave up trying to get back to the surface. I floated down and hit rock bottom of the ocean. I was standing on the Motherland, Mu, and I had a vision. I saw the Ring of Fire, the aura of Light, that humanity dropped thousands of years ago. It was a crown of fire, of glory, once worn on top of the head for the crowning of creation.

The Garden iz right here right now and each one has a crown. It’s the year 2000 and the original state iz returning to the universal heartbeat. No one can find the source to turn off this beat. The invisible sound of its vibrant acoustics iz charging the atmosphere the world around. There iz an opportunity now to return home and to be re-crowned. Now iz the time to take it or leave it.