CLEARING THE CHANNELS (updated & reposted)

Fall of the Berlin Wall, 1989

Robert Graves

PRECISELY WHEN IT ALL STARTED is worth putting on the record. It was around 0320 hours Kuala Lumpur time, 10th November, 1989. In Berlin it would have been approximately 2020 hours, November 9th. Just about the time The Wall was being dismantled.

What happened to me and my friend Mary Maguire at that particular time could be called a transdimensional breakthrough. I know it sounds rather pompous,  considering how silly the entire exercise might appear to certain people.

What were we doing? Fooling around with a what? A ouija board. And who did you say contacted you? Robert Graves. Which Robert Graves? The famous poet, scholar and author? The man who wrote The White Goddess and I, Claudius and Claudius the God?

Ha ha, nice try.

Look, I'm not in the habit of attending seances, reading tea leaves, or playing with ouija boards. And until this thing happened I didn't even know who Robert Graves was. Nor had I read any of his books or poems, believe it or not.

Hmmmm...

Arthur Koestler

That's a perfectly understandable response. This is the Age of the Mighty Microchip. We don’t burn witches anymore. The Ghost In The Machine? Isn't that the name of a Police album? Well, it's also the title of an Arthur Koestler book I never got round to reading. But I always liked the image it conjured. As a young man I was greatly stimulated by Koestler. When he turned, in his later years, to parapsychological research I was pleased. Here was an intellect of undeniable probity and precision lending itself to serious investigation of the more mystical areas of metaphysics. It could only signal one thing: that the mind of contemporary man was undergoing a shift from the red end of the energy spectrum to the blue. In Koestler's own terms: from the Commissar back to the Yogi.

Events in Europe since November 1989 have borne out this spectrum shift. Witness the dramatic transfiguration of the sociopolitical status quo in what used to be called the Soviet bloc. For humanity as a whole, however, the blue-shift toward spiritual reintegration has not been progressing smoothly. The collective consciousness of most industrial nations remains stubbornly mired in the intellectual materialism that has engendered varying degrees of concealed totalitarianism. In far too many instances the primitive hostility and obscurantism which springs from Fear still rules the imaginations of influential men and women who rule the hearts and minds of entire populations.

Now you may ask: what has this to do with ouija boards and posthumous dialogues with famous poets?

I have long been convinced that all brutishness, greed, malice and deceit stem from assorted fears - and all fears ultimately arise from Fear of the Unknown. And the Ultimate Unknown is Death.

The “Godfearing" fear God's punishment: everlasting death. In view of this I have - like any civilized soul - assiduously practised the overcoming of my own thanatophobia. My fear of death, in other words.

But it is one thing to confront the evident inevitability of physical death on a purely conceptual level - and quite another to find yourself enjoying a cup of tea and a friendly chat with someone who allegedly expired several years ago. Anyone who has experienced something like this stands a good chance of acquiring fearlessness.

Let me try and explain how these transdimensional dialogues with "Robert Graves"* came about. When "Robert" broke through on the ouija board he seemed to have been drawn to the scene by Mary's presence. Before the session with the board Mary had been reclining on a couch. "Robert" mentioned that she had reminded him of someone he used to know, someone named Eddie: a pensive and languid lad of 19 who - heartbroken with jealousy - had drowned himself in a pond.

"Robert" also reported that he was attracted to my thought-field which he described as "friendly." After about an hour of conversing via the board (with astonishing fluency, I must add) I intuited that Mary and "Robert" were sufficiently attuned to one another's mental frequency for her to attempt direct channeling with pen and paper.

Robert Graves with his muse in Deya, Mallorca 

Mary had had no prior experience with the process called automatic writing (I personally prefer the term spontaneous writing) – but she took to it with remarkable ease. Looking over her shoulder as she worked, I was struck by her aura of secretarial efficiency. The erratic spelling and non-existent punctuation were all hers - but the substance and syntax were clearly emanating from a mysterious source. Whenever I wanted to comment on something or ask a question, I would verbalize it as if addressing a presence in the room. I also tried directing questions at "Robert" telepathically - but the results were unpredictable and inconsistent. Later, as I developed the ability to "channel" I found it unnecessary to vocalize my thoughts and questions.

My own initial attempts at channeling were a little "choppy" till I managed to relax completely and suspend all disbelief. The flow became smoother as I lost my self-consciousness and stopped wondering how much of it was "me." It's interesting to note that after "Robert" made the transition to an expanded frequency range I gradually took on Mary's role of "scribe"`and began to perform spontaneous writing exercises with greater regularity, to keep my neural pathways open.

Spontaneous writing is not unlike keeping a diary - but here the emphasis is on one's inner life. The act of opening the notebook and uncapping my pen seems to trigger a special circuit that plugs me into Inspiration at its source.

Perhaps it's a way of transmuting the contents of the sub- and superconscious into everyday Consciousness. In any case the process of letting "strange” signals flow through my brain and onto paper teaches me not to take the limits of my egoic existence too seriously.

I must include three other observations: (i) a degree of skill with translating thought into language definitely helps and both Mary and myself can lay claim to being writers of one species or another; (ii) both of us have dabbled in theater and might therefore be described as empathetic by temperament; (iii) during the first encounter with "Robert" we had both been psychically primed by a few cups of strong tea laced with the juice of psilocybin mushrooms.**

Our experience of euphoria and heightened awareness lasted several weeks beyond the initial contact with "Robert". I first began to feel the gravity of mundane reality again after witnessing newsreels of the carnage in Romania on Christmas Eve.

Robert Graves in his 50s

THE ABILITY TO CHANNEL is a faculty inherent in everyone, though certain types of individuals seem more predisposed to developing their sensitivity as mediums. Poets, composers, dancers, writers, sculptors, painters, and orators have traditionally acknowledged their personal daemons and muses. The same gift of inspiration has also manifested itself in the lives of many scientific geniuses. Scriptures have been revealed by similar process through the agency of individuals with specialized neural pathways. What's truly surprising, therefore, is that people seem to have grown so grossly unmindful of their spiritual links to all the other dimensions of being. If heightened awareness leads to greater awakeness then a huge percentage of the human race is fast asleep. Asleep to its own divine origin and destiny, to its own true potential.

So where the hell is it all coming from?

Bearing in mind that any working model of Reality can at best be considered a tool to help us attain some conscious mastery of our lives, let's examine the arcane teaching that Human Experience is essentially a 7-dimensional affair. And to simplify things let's call these dimensions "levels" - or frequency bands.

Lower frequencies generate greater apparent mass or solidity. So we may visualize the different levels as a series of "kingdoms" of ascending sublimity: mineral, vegetable, animal, elemental, mental, archangelic, deific. The "higher" levels incorporate and complement the "lower" and vice versa. Where does the human being fit in? It varies from one individual to another. The fully realized individual functions consciously on all seven levels. The vast majority of humans, however, appear to be enmeshed in the specific dramas of Levels 3, 4 and 5.

Level 3 is the physical plane, the animal being with its amazing sensory structures. What we call 3-dimensional reality, the tangible world.

Level 4 is the elemental (or astral) plane where the sense of space does not exist (or if it does, it's highly elastic): this is where we "go" in our dreams and in states of death or deep trance. Devas, demons, and disembodied souls abound on Level 4. Thought-forms of limited volition abide in this timeless Twilight Zone that could well be an aspect of Time itself.

The realm of pure thought - Level 5 - is where the Muses live. This is where the Intellect originates, where the Imagination becomes articulate. Five is the firmament of Mind where Ideas float like clouds.

It is the sacred grove where the Poet trysts with his Beloved and is consumed by Eternity. When Mary and I first met "Robert Graves" (a well-named ghost, I had quipped) the man had been disincarnate for nearly four years, earthtime. The Poet was one at last with his White Goddess and "Robert" had himself become a full-fledged Muse.

On Level 6 the ego-personality diffuses into the perfect principle of cosmic love, compassion, and healing light. Here the concept of gender is irrelevant. Six is rightly called the archangelic realm, for it is through archangelic action that the lower kingdoms are sustained. In the myth of Lucifer/Prometheus the Archangel/Titan is erroneously said to have "fallen from Grace"; in truth the Bringer of Light voluntarily forswears Godhood in order to rescue other sentient souls trapped in the lower realms.***

Similarly, the emotive force of the Christ initiation lies in the idea of a voluntary fall, crucifixion, resurrection and return to the Godhead which, for us, is the Absolute Reality of Level 7. In effect "where the hell it's all coming from" is wholly relative to what level of awareness we’re functioning at.

Robert Graves in his 60s

"ROBERT GRAVES" developed into a splendid transdimensional conundrum for us. Having introduced himself as Mary's platonic lover from her previous life he went on to become my spirit friend from Level 5 - and eventually established contact with me on a heroic, archetypal and mythic level - playing Zeus to my Cronos, Castor to my Pollux, Romulus to my Remus, and so forth. Finally "Robert" extended his being onto Levels 6 and 7 and was transformed into the voice of our own infinite potential.

Eventually we were faced with a difficult decision: whether to go public with the material or limit it to a manageable circle of friends. "Robert" himself at one point expressed his indifference as to the outcome of our sessions. He said he trusted us with the material. We toyed with the idea of publishing anonymously or under a pseudonym. But then why mystify what's already and always mysterious? Besides (I reminded myself) all names are ultimately meaningless. Nonetheless I've always found anonymous notes, phonecalls, tracts or reviews extremely annoying. So we see-sawed between doubt and decision for a while until one day it suddenly became very clear: the "Robert" contact had restored and reinforced my sense of purpose and given Mary a whole new perspective on her life (or rather, lives) Why couldn’t it do the same for others?

Encouraged by the open-minded interest shown by many of our friends and by the outstanding example of inspired sensitives like H.P. Blavatsky, Alice A. Bailey, Jane Roberts, Dorothy Maclean and David Spangler (to name but a few) Mary and I felt we simply had to do our bit for the Aquarian Dispensation. whereupon "Robert" waxed enthusiastic and gave us his unconditional blessings.

To Mikhail S. Gorbachev we owe a very special debt of gratitude for reminding us of the virtues of glasnost and the power we hold in our own hands for perestroika on a planetary scale.

Antares (Kit Leee)

Kuala Lumpur,

Easter Sunday, 1990

______________________________________________________________________

* Robert’s name occurs in quotes because there has thus far been no incontrovertible proof that we were in contact with the surviving intelligence of the late great poet. However, our subsequent research into Graves' life and work has only reinforced the feeling that it was him all right. In any case all names are ultimately unimportant except as a form of "station identification."

** I have myself eaten the hallucinogenic mushroom, psilocybe, a divine ambrosia in immemorial use among the Masatec Indians of Oaxaca Province, Mexico; heard the priestess invoke Tlaloc, the Mushroom-god, and seen transcendental visions. Thus I wholeheartedly agree with R. Gordon Wasson, the American discoverer of this ancient rite, that European ideas of heaven and hell may well have derived from similar mysteries. ~ Robert Graves, in his foreword to The Greek Myths, 1960

*** "The Manichaean tradition knows that the Holy Ghost is the transformed Lucifer and the dove is the transformed serpent; and that the Grail was once formed from the precious stone in the crown of Lucifer and was filled with the blood of Christ who redeems Lucifer himself." ~ Trevor Ravenscroft, The Cup of Destiny

The controversial Gnostic teacher John Lamb Lash suggests that Lucifer, like Pan, was deliberately conflated with the Devil/Satan by the Roman Church as part of a strategy to disconnect humans from Mother Nature. Indeed, Lash makes a convincing case that Lucifer and Sophia are interchangeable names for what he calls the Planetary Animal Mother, source of all life in the solar system.

TO BRING THE DEAD TO LIFE

by Robert Graves

To bring the dead to life

Is no great magic.

Few are wholly dead:

Blow on a dead man's embers

And a live flame will start.

Let his forgotten griefs be now,

And now his withered hopes;

Subdue your pen to his handwriting

Until it prove as natural

To sign his name as yours.

Limp as he limped,

Swear by the oaths he swore;

If he wore black, affect the same;

If he had gouty fingers,

Be yours gouty too.

Assemble tokens intimate of him -

A seal, a cloak, a pen:

Around these elements then build

A home familiar to

The greedy revenant.

So grant him life; but reckon

That the grave which housed him

May not be empty now:

You in his spotted garments

Shall yourself lie wrapped.

[First posted 23 June 2015, reposted 9 November 2015, 9 November 2017, 10 November 2019 

& 26 November 2021]

The 2-Cows School of Economic Theory from a Global Perspective (revisted just for laughs)

Economic models have long been explained with cows. Thanks to the internet, experts from all over the world (who wish to remain anonymous) have contributed their particular insights to this ongoing study...

SOCIALISM: You have 2 cows. You give one to your neighbor.

COMMUNISM: You have 2 cows. The State takes both and gives you some milk.

FASCISM: You have 2 cows. The State takes both and sells you some milk.

NAZISM: You have 2 cows. The government takes both and shoots you.

BUREAUCRATISM: You have 2 cows. The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other and then throws the milk away.

TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. You sell one and buy a bull. Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income.

DEMOCRACY: You have 2 cows. Your neighbor has none. You vote people into office who tax your cows, forcing you to sell one to raise money to pay for the tax. The people you voted for then take the tax money and buy a cow and give it to your neighbor. You feel righteous.

AMERICAN CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. You sell one and force the other to produce the milk of four cows. Later, you hire a consultant to analyze why the cow has dropped dead.

FRENCH CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. You go on strike, organize a riot, and block the roads, because you want 3 cows.

GERMAN CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month and milk themselves.

JAPANESE CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. You redesign them so they are 1/10 the size of an ordinary cow, and produce the milk of 20 cows. You then create a clever cow cartoon image called Cowkimon and market it worldwide.

ITALIAN CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows, but you don’t know where they are. You decide to have lunch.

SWISS CAPITALISM: You have 5,000 cows. None of them belongs to you. You charge the owners for storing them.

CHINESE CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. You have 300 people milking them. You claim that you have full employment and high bovine productivity. You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.

RUSSIAN CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. You count them and learn that you have 5 cows. You count them again and learn that you have 42 cows. You count them again and learn that you have 2 cows. You stop counting cows and open another bottle of Vodka.

INDIAN CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. You worship them.

BRITISH CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. Both are mad.

MALAYSIAN CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. You ask for a 250 million ringgit loan from the government so you can breed them on a large scale. With the loan as collateral you purchase several condominiums for your cows so they will vote for you every election.

IRAQI CAPITALISM: Everyone thinks you have lots of cows. You tell them that you have none. Nobody believes you, so they bomb the crap out of you and invade your country. You still have no cows but at least you are now a Democracy.

AUSTRALIAN CAPITALISM:- You have 2 cows. Business seems pretty good. You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.

NEW ZEALAND CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows. The one on the left looks very attractive.

ISRAELI CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows and you lead them to graze on your neighbor's land. Then you claim that land as yours and build cowsheds everywhere.

PAKISTANI CAPITALISM: You have no cows. You buy some from China by selling the milk the Americans gave you. Now that you have cows, you can tie bombs on them and send them to India.

NIGERIAN CAPITALISM: You have no cows but you send emails to everyone indicating that they have won 2 million cows in an electronic lottery. If they believe you, you ask them to pay $20,000 upfront for transport and quarantine costs.

GREEK CAPITALISM: You have 2 cows borrowed from French and German banks. You eat both of them. The banks call to collect their milk, but you cannot deliver so you call the IMF. The IMF loans you 2 cows. You eat both of them. The banks and the IMF call to collect their milk. You are out getting a haircut.

[NOTE: This collection was culled from various sources, with minor editorial adjustments & illustrations added by me. First posted 31 October 2014]

A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME... (repost)

“Kit Fong, pay attention!”

Cringe.

“Kit Fong, you’re late again!”

Cringe.

Was it the insidious cultural influence of having been born in the days of the Empire when names like Archibald, Horatio and Montgomery sounded easier on the ear than Ching Chong, King Kong or Ping Pong?

Whatever the cause, the effect was psychologically debilitating. I secretly dropped the Fong. In my mind I was Kit Lee. I had no problem with the name “Kit” which means “outstanding hero” in Chinese [傑]. That I could relate to. But the way the “Fong” was written suggested “fragrant” rather than “magnanimous” – and the idea of being a “fragrant hero” sounded namby-pamby and sissy. At eight I was understandably defensive of my masculinity.

It took about 12 years to grow my third ‘E’ – but we’ll discuss that later.


Meanwhile, having been impressed by Christopher Lee’s performance as Count Dracula and as an Egyptian priest in The Mummy, I was thrilled to learn that “Kit” was also the pet form of “Christopher” – which entitled me to see myself as a hologram aspect of that highly distinguished horror-film actor.

Of course, nobody had heard of holograms yet. But already I had a vivid sense of the micro-macro, “as above, so below” fractal universe that constitutes the cosmic context of our beings.

Soon enough, I dropped the “Christopher Lee” nonsense. Anyway, I was feeling a bit uncomfortable with the meaning of “Christopher” – bearer of the Christ child (at the time I had no idea what "Christ" actually meant, thought it was a cuss word).

Then I came across a book on numerology and spent weeks working out the values and attributes of everybody’s name I could think of. I decided that my name vibration had to correspond with the mystical 7, and the easiest way to manage that without radically altering my given name was to attach an extra ‘E’ to the Lee.

Furthermore, “Kit Leee” added up to a 7 numerologically as well as typographically. And so the long tedious task began of persuading people to accept my third ‘E.’

At the same time I started feeling uneasy about wearing a name that could identify me with any specific ethnic group on this planet. I didn’t feel particularly Chinese, since the language was no less exotic to me than Greek or Hebrew or Serbo-Croatian. My only acquaintance with Chinese philosophy, primarily Taoist, was filtered through the minds of westerners like Alan Watts, Richard Wilhelm and Carl Jung.

Was I a cultural banana, yellow outside and white inside? Appealing as that metaphor sounded, I sought the broadest human perspective rather than wave flags, shake rattles and shout slogans proclaiming my loyalty to any football club or genetic lineage.

I toyed around with anagrams and read everything backwards. Having stumbled upon the Latin word “resurgam” and discovering that its meaning resonated with my own obsession with resurgence or resurrection, I playfully began to call myself Magruser Eeel or M. Eeel for short (inspired partly by an obscure French musician named M. Frog and partly by an inexplicable fascination with the name “Melchizedek” which contains three ‘E’s, an ‘L’ and an ‘M’).

Magruser, apart from being Resurgam spelt backwards, had the dubious benefit of sounding vaguely Scottish. As a teenager I’d had recurring reincarnational dreams of being a drummer boy at the head of a kilt-wearing highland regiment. These dreams invariably ended with my getting a musket ball in my belly, collapsing on the meadow, and feeling my spirit evaporate into a cloudless blue sky.

Then I found out that “Tricky Dick” Nixon had a White House staffer named Jeb Magruder (pictured right) – which kind of soured the name “Magruser” for me. I finally realized nobody could take a name like Magruser Eeel seriously, though I must admit it bears a certain spiritual kinship with Forrest Gump.

Now this probably comes across as the eccentric preoccupations of a totally self-absorbed young person. Indeed I was in danger of becoming a solipsist – someone who believes that “all real entities are modifications and states of the self.” In other words, a victim of “artistic egoism” for whom the universe exists only as a private playground. After all, I was very much an adherent of the Socratic dictum: “Know thyself.” And how else does one go about “knowing” oneself if not through experimenting with the process of naming and renaming?

The act of naming underlies all epistemological workings. Epistemology is just a fancy word for studying the basis of knowledge. For instance: by describing a person as “hero” or “villain” or “astronaut” or “junkie,” we are in effect defining how others will perceive or receive him or her. A “very determined” chap is worthy of public admiration; however, a “mulishly obstinate” fellow tends to elicit sighs of psychic fatigue from those around him. It’s the classic case of having to choose between a cup half-empty or half-full.

At any rate “Kit Leee” gradually got accepted because people kept seeing it in print over a period of years when I was active in theater, music and journalism. Most people were addressing letters to “Kit Leee” – except my mother, who found it hard to acknowledge the validity of my surname “Leee.” Finally I had my first book published – and when she saw my name in all its glory on the cover, she capitulated.

How did my father feel about it?

I explained to him that the Lee clan consisted of hundreds of thousands of individuals who weren’t remotely related – including a whole bunch of Lees that weren’t even Chinese. By becoming a Leee I was merely extending the line and marking a departure from tradition. My father took it quietly without argument. He has never been prone to intellectual discourse, being a practical man who prefers to deal with the nuts-and-bolts of existence. As far as he was concerned, I would always be his son, no matter what I called myself.

I began making enquiries about officially changing my name to Kit Leee. Lawyers informed me the deed poll process was fairly complicated and costly – AND the rub was, Malaysian laws require that one’s birthname be retained on the identity card as an alias. No way. I didn’t want to sound like a gangster: Yong Tow Foo @ Ah Foo @ Fooyong Hai @ Towfoo Pok.

This is bullshit, I thought. Surely we have the right to choose whatever form of identification feels comfortable to us. How dare the State try to keep our personalities from evolving!

At the bank I was unable to get an ATM card issued with the name Kit Leee. “Kit Lee” was permitted but “Kit Leee” tak boleh. My very sensible argument that, in terms of security, “Leee” was far more effective than “Lee” – because I was probably the only one on Earth with such a surname – was answered by blank looks and firm shakes of the head. Not even a smile.

Later I was delighted to learn I wasn’t the only Leee on Earth. While reading a biography of David Bowie, the ultimate chameleon of pop iconology, I came across the name Leee Black Childers, who was at one time executive vice-president of Bowie’s MainMan label. Aha! There are at least two of us, I thought, elated. Imagine my surprise when I discovered there are actually THREE of us, including Leee John, the soul singer (left).

So… why couldn’t I leave well enough alone?

Why did I have to embark on a whole new campaign to persuade people to address me as ANTARES? What on earth does “Antares” mean, anyway? Is it Greek? Spanish? Sanskrit? Did I find it in a book? Who gave it to me? Anyway, who gives a fuck…

I’m by no means the only one who has periodically felt the compulsion to alter the course of my destiny by changing my name.

Amunhotep IV turned his reign into a far-reaching navigational beacon by becoming Pharaoh Akhnaton. Samuel Langhorne Clemens achieved literary immortality as Mark Twain, in the same way that Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, a quiet mathematician, insinuated his imaginative genius into the public realm by posing as Lewis Carroll, author of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass.

Marion Morrison fared much better as John Wayne; and Robert Allen Zimmerman may well have remained a gas-pump attendant in Hibbings, Minnesota, had he not decided to strike out for New York and seek his fortune as Bob Dylan. What about Issur Danielovitch? Even Michael Douglas would have had difficulty spelling his famous father Kirk’s birthname!

Andy Warhol would probably not have bothered creating iconographic posters of Norma Jean Mortenson had she not agreed to be billed as Marilyn Monroe. Would you be as interested in Luisa Ciccone’s sex life as you might be in Madonna’s? Do you think somebody born Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta can possibly make it in show business - unless she has the gumption to change her name to something catchy like Lady Gaga?


How about Teuku Zakaria bin Teuku Nyak Puteh? Teuku who? You mean P. Ramlee (left) – the chap who successfully integrated Indian (Ram), Chinese (Lee) and Orang Puteh (P) elements into his own embodiment of the post-colonial Malay artistic genius? And if Prince Siddhartha hadn’t undergone his vision quest and transformed himself into Gautama Buddha, our spiritual legacy would have certainly been far poorer.

It isn’t only individuals with exaggerated ego insecurities who habitually drop names. Entire countries have been known to do it too. In 1939 Thailand dropped its ancient moniker of Siam, perhaps in protest against that Rodgers & Hammerstein musical, The King and I. Myanmar lost no time shedding its Burma tag when SLORC oozed into power. The USSR was dropped for CIS or Gorby-knows-what in 1991. Yugoslavia is now referred to as “the former Yugoslavia” or “the Balkan States” (though the area remains a hopeless mess of hostile ethnicities). Then Czechoslovakia dropped its name - and the country broke in two.

Bangladesh was once… does anyone recall? And we’ll not mention the African nations at all except to note that names there have been dropped so feverishly the mapmakers can’t keep up. This name-dropping malaise caused Malaysia to lose its Malaya (which means “hills” in Tamil and “freedom” in Tagalog).

But coming back to this ANTARES business: it wasn’t an easy decision, I’ll have you know that. Especially since years of effort had already been invested in establishing a third-E trademark for my work as that weird “Kit Leee” personality. And to now go through the exercise of dropping yet another name felt like a petty exercise in triviality, with no relevance to the larger issues of existence.

Yet I believe it had to be done. I can provide an absolutely sound rationale for my idiosyncratic proclivity to drop names that no longer serve. Let’s put it this way: whether you describe yourself as a Batu Arangite, a Penangite, a Muarian, a Kampung Buayanese, a Malaysian, an Asian, an Earthian, a Milky Wayfarer, or simply as I AM THAT I AM pretty much determines the parameters of your thoughts and deeds. A caterpillar can’t easily proceed to butterflyhood if it insists on and persists in calling itself a grub.

Names carry very specific vibrations. Notice how Americans prefer the informality of being called Bob instead of Robert, Jack instead of John, Ted instead of Theodore, Dick instead of Richard; whereas Canadians and Brits generally prefer that you address them by their “proper” names. Notice, too, how dignitaries tend to be extremely offended should one omit their lengthy titular appendages in official correspondence.


Imagine how peeved the Germans initially felt when American advertising wizards suggested they call their Volkswagen the Beetle… or, even worse, the Bug. Well, the admen’s advice was perfect for the freewheeling zeitgeist of the booming postwar automobile market. Even a pop music combo named after this particular insect proved phenomenally successful! I wonder if I might sell more CDs if I renamed myself "Nyamok" ("mosquito" in Malay)...

Recently I met a couple of women who introduced themselves to me as Chong, their family name. Chong & Chong. Tan & Tan. Cheech & Chong. Johnson & Johnson. Fraser & Neave. Fang & Claw. Proctor & Gamble. Hem & Haw. Bumwiggle & Himmelfucker. Long live the Lees! Down with the Leighs! You’re a disgrace to the D’Cruz name! Such blind loyalty to the clan trademark is incomprehensible to me. It suggests that one has only one essential function, that is, to propagate one’s bloodline.

Some say God has 9,000 names (or is it 999,000?). Maybe his favorite pastime is name-dropping too? With his nearly infinite hoard of names, God could well be the biggest Name-Dropper of all time. Hi, how’s it going, Al?


Let me assure you, the name “Antares” perfectly describes my present function in the human as well as the cosmological context. “Antares” came to me during a star-alignment ritual – a meditation on connecting vertically with the stellar realms, rather than just horizontally with mundane aspirations. Subsequently I did a little research and found that Antares is a binary stargate located in the heart of the Scorpio constellation, visible as the brightest star in the southern skies. In Greek the name means “counterforce to Mars” (Anti-Ares). Mars or Ares is the symbol of War or Division; it is also the symbol of the Masculine Force. Mars rules the field in battle as a sword, in farming as a plowshare, in medicine as a scalpel. So the counterforce to Mars would be Love, Venus, the Feminine Force, the Goddess Principle, the harmonizer, integrator and unifier. Which is exactly how I perceive my contribution to the greater community and the universe. No longer the combative hero, the David who vanquishes Goliath with a well-aimed slingshot – but as the reconciliator, the interlink between divergent realities and values.

Remarkably the word antara in Sanskrit means “connection” – and in Malay it is used as the preposition “between” as in antarabangsa (international). Indonesia’s national news agency is called Antara. Deeper research indicates that antara is related to antahkarana – the rainbow bridge linking heaven to earth, celestial to terrestrial experience, the transpersonal to the personal.


I like that. I’m tired of being regarded as the renegade, the bad boy, the enfant terrible, the critic, the dissident. I would much rather be viewed as the Zone of Overlap between Spirit and Matter, between the sublime and the ridiculous. The traditional antagonism between polar opposites can be transmuted by a focused, intentional act of renaming. No need for US versus THEM. Inevitably it's US plus THEM equals WE. Today’s “working class” becomes tomorrow’s “ruling elite” and vice versa.

The Wheel of Fortune or Karma or Dynamic Evolution forever spins. Behind, beyond and above the din of cash registers and children’s excited squeals, and the loud laments of parents whose pockets have just been picked, one can hear the spontaneous cackle of the Trickster, Hermes or Thoth, the Cosmic Clown – who laughs not so much in cruelty but in the playful spirit of one who has known joy and sorrow and no longer plays the game of Snakes and Ladders. It is the lighthearted laughter of one who suddenly notices the projector beam and remembers he’s at the cinema watching the latest box-office spectacular… phew, no need to crap your pants, folks! It’s called “special effects” – but, boy, is it scary!

So call me Antares. If it’s a formal encounter, you may include my ceremonial titles of Avalokiteshvara (a name I picked up in Tibet many lifetimes ago) and Maitreya (a spiritual rank conferred upon me on 9 November 2009). In any case, Kit Leee the Fragrant and Outstanding Hero will live on in old friends’ and relatives’ memories – or as a cheque-receiving device (even though I can't remember when I last received a cheque in the post).

As long as we inhabit a competitive holographic world fueled by money, driven by paranoia, suspicion and fear – instead of life-affirming acceptance, love and perfect trust – I must accept the blank uncomprehending looks of bank clerks and bureaucrats as part of the outgoing reality. Not everyone can respond to freeform jazz improvisations. Many feel safer within the Euclidean framework of the Status Quo – just as members of the Flat Earth Society continue to fear falling off into Deep Space if they venture too close to the edge.

However, there’s room for everyone and everything under the Sun (if not ours, some other distant Sun). Those who keep saying “There’s no room for this, no room for that in our society” are control-freaks possessed by archaic demons in their own brain circuitry. The Master Yeshua assured us: “My father’s house has many mansions.” Which is a poetic way of revealing that there are worlds within worlds, dimensions within dimensions; everyone has a seat reserved at the heavenly feast, so don’t worry, be happy.

And the day will surely dawn when the only form we have to fill is the one that pleases us most.

Then I can revert to signing off as ANON – which happens to be an anagram for ONAN. Well, I think it’s better to be Onan the Masturbator than Conan the Barbarian, no?

[First published in Journal One, 1996. Updated & reposted 7 May 2011, 6 January 2019 & 12 November 2022]

11TH GATE ACTIVATION IN THE SACRED VALLEY OF THE INCAS (revisited)

The Journey through the Doorway of the 11:11 has taken 21 years – and though the final and eleventh gate was activated in Peru during a 25-hour ceremony between 21-22 November 2012, the story is far from over…

While I was in the thick of it, I made a million mental notes and couldn’t wait to get back to my laptop so I could put it all down in words. Now I’m at a total loss for what to say about the 11th Gate Activation.

The 11:11 phenomenon isn’t something that can easily be explained. Those who respond to its call often say their hearts spoke to them and made them put aside money so they could physically participate in these Activations, even though their minds couldn’t comprehend why it meant so much to them. You could say the call of the 11:11 is an intensely personal one – and at the same time it’s also entirely transpersonal.

Joyful reunion with my amazing Russian soulbrother Igor Abramov

What happens at these 11:11 Gate Activations?

A whole week is devoted to generating a coherent unified field, which Solara calls our One Being. In Peru there were roughly 130 participants from more than 30 countries – with significant numbers from Russia and Mexico. I was the only Asian representative, though not the only Asian – Sonata Myung (a Korean residing in Canada) and Anastra (a Trinidad-born Indian residing in Melbourne who has been at almost every Activation) were present too, although in such a polyglot company more attention is placed on starry lineages rather than ethnic or national origins. [For those interested, there are 3 major star lineages operating in this 3rd-dimensional reality and they entered into manifestation via the stargates in Orion’s Belt, viz., EL (Mintaka), AN (Al Nilam) and RA (Al Nitak). This information first came to light in Solara’s 1991 novel, EL*AN*RA ~ The Healing of Orion.]

Aliya & Yusuf Gubaydullin from Tatastan were among the youngest participants

Within the first three hours, the One Being began to emerge. A coherent field is generated when a disparate group of humans with open hearts connect on an energetic, emotional level. Solara has had lifetimes of training for the work she does, which is to serve as a conductor and integrator of purified emotional frequencies. The deceptively simple techniques she has developed over many decades mostly involve a series of mudras and starry dances – but it is her magnificent and masterful presence - and her disarming wit and gentle authority - that effectively forms a powerful nucleus around which the coherent field emerges - at first imperceptibly, but by the third day the feeling of loving oneness is absolutely tangible. Clear eyes and wide open hearts dissolve all artificial boundaries in an instant. People you only just met suddenly feel like ancient associates and long-lost soul family members.

Marisa Rego from Brazil: a giant heart on legs

The 11:11 mudras formulated by Solara are uncomplicated and easy to do – but they powerfully and instantly transform one’s state of being.

Amazingly, doing the 11:11 mudras with focused intent effectively recalibrates our energy fields, bypassing the left brain with its customary doubts and unanswered questions. It helps to perform the mudras in a group, as the effects are greatly reinforced and amplified – however, doing them on your own is a very transformative exercise that instantly alters your biochemistry.

At every 11:11 Gate Activation, Solara is beautifully supported by one or more sacred musicians. Omashar has been the resident musician at every recent Gate Activation and his contribution is integral to the process. His songs are inspiring, uplifting and extremely haunting – many reported hearing his soaring melodies playing in their heads for days on end! This is one of Omashar’s Activation hits:

Starry dances are an important part of every 11:11 Gate Activation. As a starry choreographer, Solara has come up with many simple but extremely powerful dances that serve to transform any number of bodies into beautiful, kinetic mandalas. The 22-minute “Starry Processional” (accompanied by profoundly evocative original music by Etherium) – which was performed 38 times over 38 hours at the Giza Pyramids during the First Gate Activation on 11 January 1992 – has a trance-inducing effect on participants, evoking long-buried genetic memories of our original lives as stars, spinning majestically through the aeons in patterns of geometric splendor.

Although many had never before done any of the starry dances, the 11th Gate Master Cylinder was marked by very successful performances which created a deep emotional bond among the participants right from the outset. It’s not something that can be described in words – one has to experience it to know. The roots of ritual theater and sacred dance go all the way back in time and space to ancient mystery schools like the Atlantean, Egyptian and Eleusinian.

Aloisio Ferreira & Mariana Schoeler from Brazil

What never ceases to astound me is the way Solara can get a diverse group of individuals to merge effortlessly into a conscious whole without ever raising her voice or reprimanding anyone. If only the 11:11 techniques can be introduced in all areas of public life, so that our parliamentarians can enter each session as One Being… all problems could then be resolved elegantly, efficiently, and effortlessly - and without energy-squandering ego conflicts!

As a collectivity of strong-minded individuals, 11:11 participants quickly learn to set aside their petty egos in service of a universal agenda - that of attunement and harmonization with unwritten cosmic codes that facilitate conscious reintegration with the entire spectrum of life. In so doing we become a cogent coherent field capable of acting in unison – and that forms an organic key with which to open unseen doors to other dimensional realities. It is a beautiful form of cosmic magick, beyond the schisms of Light and Dark, which reconnects us with the Whole of Creation and restores our long-buried memories of countless lifetimes dedicated to the reintegration of our fragmented existences across time and space and multiple dimensions.

Akyuna Akish, 18, White Dragon and Star Commander. Remember the cosmic fetus at the end of
Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey? That's him, he's arrived!

We are the One that became the Many that must become One again… to proceed to the next step in our unique and universal journey as conscious souls in form.

On a more mundane level, Solara takes pains to ensure the comfort and safety of every participant. The 5-star Aranwa spa resort, located amid cornfields at the foot of the towering Andes in the tiny village of Huayllabamba, was where the group stayed for all 10 days of the 11th Gate Master Cylinder (except during the Activation Ceremony when the group was encamped on an open field overlooked by mountains). The lushly landscaped Aranwa (which means "legend" in Quecha) was a setting fit for kings and queens - and the menagerie of peacocks, colorful (and very noisy) macaws, and inquisitive alpacas added to the regal atmosphere. Considering the de luxe quality of the meals and lodging – and the heavenly, serene setting – the participation fee of $1,744 for 10 days of a fantastic working holiday beyond spacetime is an entirely reasonable price to pay for what many subsequently stated was the most important experience of their lives.

When the 11:11 Doorway was activated in January 1992, I served as the anchor in Malaysia. I am completely amazed by Solara’s superhuman stamina and dedication, over the last 21 years, to her earthly mission of clearing a return path back to the stars for all humanity. Now that the 11th and final Gate has been activated, the incoming stellar codes will soon catalyze a fresh evolutionary surge throughout the planet, freeing all life from artificial boundaries created by false dogmas and limiting beliefs. As Solara puts it, the True Ones will emerge from camouflage and concealment to reclaim our True Lives among True Peoples, to achieve our True Purpose.

Sacred Lotus dance under the magenta rays of the Inca Sun
(pic courtesy of Sebastian Purelove)

The reappearance and reintegration of the Family of AN – a starry lineage which has always been a stabilizing and harmonizing force for conscious evolution but which became scattered and almost completely vanished from the collective memory – signals the end of duality-based ideological conflicts, root cause of so much misery and suffering on our precious planet. Each of us who was physically present at the 11th Gate – and all those who participated in one of nearly 600 anchor groups in 62 countries – have downloaded new apps for creative, conscious living which will serve us well as we return to our various realities as empowered Seeds of AN.

Solara says that AN is characterized by the sacred union of Sun and Moon, the male and female polarities – intellect fused with intuition, giving rise to true compassion and emotional maturity. The Activation Ceremony ended with the Aslan Dance in which we danced as matched pairs – hearts shining like a million suns, radiating joy and nobility – finally breaking free from the endless circle of life-death-rebirth and going forth in all directions, carrying the truth of our divine essence wherever our human destinies may take us.

Rainbow round the midday Sun with the colors of the El*An*Ra

In her Surf Update of 26 November, Solara says:

We have written the final chapter of our old stories and closed our old book. Our new stories have now begun. We can create the lives that we truly want. The ones that are most suited to who we are. We can step free of all our old limiting behaviors and beliefs. We can live True Lives as True Ones.

The final 11:11 Activation of the Eleventh Gate was absolutely magnificent. Here at the Master Cylinder in Peru, we began in the afternoon of November 21 and continued through the night until the afternoon of November 22.

As we began our ceremony, there were two rainbows in the sky directly above us, with the Sun on one side and the Moon on the other. Soon, a condor blessed us with his appearance. This was a very rare occurrence as condors rarely are seen in the Sacred Valley. During the first afternoon, there was a large Sunbow around the Sun.

Blue & orange dusk @ activation site, 21 November 2012

Although we were in the rainy season and it had poured with rain for several nights preceding the ceremony, our night was without rain. We had called upon the Apus, the Peruvian mountain Gods, for good weather. Until the Moon descended behind the mountains in the middle of the night, it was encircled by a huge Moonbow. All the auspicious signs were there. We keep the ceremony going throughout the night with two people in charge of every hour.

What was truly noteworthy is that I did not have to hold the ceremony together as I usually do. Instead, I spent much of the long night lying down and being very still, immersing myself in the energies. It was a profound passing of the scepters....

Indigo Raffel has been an integral part of the 11:11 Journey from the very beginning

In the morning at 6:11, just after finishing doing the 11:11 Mudras in ultra, slow motion, we danced the Eye of AN Dance. Suddenly, energy came pouring in and we knew that the Activation of Eleventh Gate had begun.

But it was not until 1:11 that afternoon that the full Activation began. The Dragons of the Elements merged with the White Dragons and became one large Dragon. Then they took positions as Guardians, while the White Lotus moved into the center of our sacred circle. The rest of us did the Eleventh Gate Mudra over and over. Then suddenly, the Eleventh Gate energies began pouring in. The wind Wayra surged through our ceremonial site and the Eleventh Gate opened wider and wider. This continued for 40 minutes or so with the loud roar of the wind and such strong, true energy. So much joy and wonder was felt by all of us. Then we danced the final Starry Procession of the entire Doorway of the 11:11.

Ya! and Ankasha at the Crystal Cave, Macchu Pichu

The next day was filled with constant sessions and meetings. The Heart of AN is coming alive and many are jumping in and offering their support for its physical manifestation. Our final evening session was a sweet and deep celebration, as we honored our entire journey through the 11:11 Doorway.

A colorful new story begins... (pic by Alizac Leos Pantoja)

Viviane Madureira & Lisandra from Brazil

Crystal heart of the Andes 

THE HEART OF AN 

[First posted 1 December 2012, reposted 7 November 2018]