Life goes in spirals, let’s make this world possible

This year was full of strong strange vibrations, I’m sure I was not the only one noticing the magical forces floating around the 2012. Exactly one year ago I was doing my fieldworks in a small village in South Sulawesi. The air was warm and sky sunny with some breath sudden tropical rainfalls. I was staying at a wonderful and powerful calabai – a local name for a waria among the Bugis people -, who then invited her friends and local authorities to the front garden of her popular salon and made me and Minna an amazing make-up, as that’s one of her talented skills.

Together with a bunch of funny young calabais we headed down to the center of the village, dancing wild and sexy on the stage, completely sober, as alcohol is generally forbidden here, as it’s considered to be important to keep up the proud morals of decent Moslem people. Besides, as we realized in the afternoon, all nearby houses producing local brew had already been emptied from the popular mild palm wine, that we all could have enjoyed anyway. And I had also discovered myself in the somewhat paradise of gender pluralism – a good start for the year, that was carrying me along this wave – to extensive few months in hot hot Papua, ghostly magical living with Monica in Yogyakarta, along with stripbots and revolution out of control with Monty Cantsin in Tallinn, to radical queer film festival Entzaubert in Berlin with a soul friend Alec Butler, to ILGA world conference in Stockholm, and getting more into visual and vivid with Judith and David MacDougall in utopic and stunning Sardinia, or dreamy days as a press at IDFA film festival in Amsterdam, hanging out with Alvaro, the sweet craziness from five years ago Peruvian Amazon. Lately I’ve been testing my shooting skills on the Gray of Utopia and getting lost in the nighttime underground world of Susanna and Vanessa. If I would give an imaginative title to some of my new friends, then this couple of ladies who have caught my camera would be my persons of the year. Me and Kiwa have been digging out the wonders of the good old Soviet Union – the bittersweet hippie trail on the other side of the iron curtain. And I’m continuously excited about the book of magic by me and Berit – our Seven Worlds is gonna be knocking on the door of 2013!

This year has also seen some shaking weird emotional states, I’ve been low and high, sick and healthy, in love and lonely, motivated to stand out for the raise of awareness and to fight for human rights and freedom of self-expression, and depressed feeling this being a naive dream and impossible mission. But as I’ve always believed – life goes in spirals.

Dear anonymous faraway friends and the ones I’ve had a chance to share some moments of this reality, I wish you warm heart and progressive moves for the coming up 2013. Let’s make this world possible.

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And for the fun part, once again, the sexy dance from the village of South Sulawesi:

Stalking Pachamama – life-altering CouchSurfing experience

Me and Berit just love love love CouchSurfing. It has brought us to meet so many amazing people and got us into crazy truthful experiences. And naturally, we always have liked the insiders’ view on some faraway culture. We prefer to stay close to the real social reality, with real local people, weather they are some single geniuses or funny families.

In 2007 me and Berit were having our magical journey through South America. It was simply Couchsurfing that brought us together with Alvaro Sarmiento – intriguing young film-maker – and our journey turned into a spiritual exploration, under the flag of something we call Avantourism, in spirit of Pachamama.
Couple of years later me and Berit published a shamanic novel entitled “Seven Worlds”, Alvaro as the leading character.
After five years time, in 2012 I met Alvaro again in Tallinn. When he got here, it seemed that he was already well-known for many people here – from our writings. It’s incredible to think that it was Couchsurfing that brought us together at the first place. We travelled for months along Amazon, and the journey had huge impact on our lives.

This video, which is actually also part of the CouchSurfing video contest, hopefully gives you some idea of the Couchsurfing vibrations and all that might follow. Please spread and ‘like’ if you care so.

Echoes from the faraway. Experimental sounds inspired by ayahuasca

Last night I had a live concert with my dear friend Kiwa at Tartu, Genklubi. We tried to transform the experience of traveling into soundscapes, as we both spent quite a lot of time in Indonesia, also making the Wariazone, and are lost wanderers in our spirits.

How would the faraway echoe now and here? What are the cosmic inner processes that go together with  all kinds of transformations when you travel? The concert was titled as ‘echoes from the faraway’.

Here’s the inspiration from ayahuasca. We are actually using the field recordings from the ayahuasca ceremony in Peru, which is one of the turning parts in our novel “Seven worlds”. These icaro’s still give me fever, as your life will change after meeting the spirit of ayahuasca.

Here’s the link:

—-Shamanee

Change is constant.
Travel is constant.
This circle can only create a bigger circle.
This can only be a spiral.

I don’t think I ever come back for real

>Back in Estonia.

Smiling blond sales agents.  Fathers of young families with dull eyes. Nervous guys wearing baseball hat and huge jacket.

And friends, my dear friends, dears.
After a break of five months it is pretty hard to understand why the mobile phone should always be swiched on and why your computer is like the second part of yourself. Where should I bury chewed coca leaves, when the whole surface is poured over the asphalt? In which direction is the soul of the mountain (apu) closest me, where I could ask a favor? All life is suddenly concentrated indoors. My skin grows older in two days as if two  years have passed. I can’t stand the hangover that three glasses of cider can cause.

About a month I was still heavily tripping. It took some time to re-learn to read newspapers. It took some time to understand that in two days I dont have to pack my bag again to migrate to a new city, but my life started to get back in the routine of gray Estonia.

Fortunately, however, it never happened.
My space has changed, though – im back in Europe, in the land of rationality – but i’m still tripping, in a shifting way. And I never come back down again. I have changed.

Nonetheless, it was time to find a home – to make my own corner in  the heart of Tartu. I put a picture of  mother on the wall  (actually this is the repro of Guyasamin’s work entitled “Mother”) and gave it some blessings with my friend Anz.
Soon I found an enormous closet with a real wolf man living inseide of it. My life has now some extra dimensions I never imagined to dream about before.

Already at the very first night I was pulled to the rehearsing studio in Tartu for music making. I had missed that feeling when your fingers are touching the keys and some newly found music is born. Or noise. I dissapear in the synthesis of sounding visions. Our improvisation does not respect borders. This is how Voog was born. The spirit of the music is floating as a sweet aroma around the room.

Overhelmed by complete silence and endless void – the last stop before airport in the desert

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On the way to the airport in Lima we stopped at Huacachina for another day. This is  where it once all started. In front of the village the seven dogs were waiting for us, as well as blinding brightness, sand, and our good old friends Patrick and Julio Cesar. After a few hours hanginf out by the pool we went up to the desert with Patrick. We climbed over a huge sand interval, and found ourselves in eternal infinity, in which every point can feel as at home. We were lying  down there on the sand in silence and I could not imagine a time when I no longer have the chance to experience this silence. It feels eternal. I’m overwhelmed.

In the  solitude of the vast desert all the senses are exacerbated and suddenly there is too much of everything. Every sound seems stronger after two days of silence, each piece of green seems more alive after infinite emptiness.

There are yellow, orange and purple lines running over the sky, and golden radiance of the sand walls will soon become only black surface variations.
My hands have been desiring the silky surface of the sand. I touch it with tender as if this was my darling’s chest, as we lay down in the bottom of the valley  and open a bottle of Peruvian sweet wine, which they call here semi-seco.
Patrick talks on his soft voice. He speaks of religion, freedom, soul, and Pachamama when we suddenly notice a bright star in the sky. Or – it moves very slowly along the fragile clouds of heaven, until it reaches the moon, and then it disappears. What is it?
This is not a satellite, the star or an airplane. Is this some signal from another world?

I wake with an easy shock. We had accidentally fallen asleep in the desert with Patrick, and we do not have a clue what could be the time. Our flight is in the afternoon. The sky is cloudy, so its  difficult to determine it by altitude of the sun.
In my morning drowsiness i ran down the sand dunes to the oasis, where an angry cab driver, Alvaro and Berit are waiting for me, being late for an hour. This here is the time before cell phones and we are in the middle of the desert.

Five hours later in the airport in Lima we meet out old friends from Colombia, with whom we had tripped back from Machu Picchu some month ago. Even though South America is huge, quite a number of characters figure prominently in our tour for several times.
Little look back:
Mad Writer in Galapagos Islands
Mauricio from Guayaquil
A surf boy from Florida
The world’s most beautiful man Etiel
Colombia’s young gentlemen
Desert Soul, Julio Cesar
Soul mate Patrick
My Bolivian tripping friend Marcos (as much as 4 times)
And they were more …

A sleepless night later we were back in Europe. Cleanliness, comfort, systems, rules. Everything is certain, but however, anything else is impossible. Unlike the motto in South American: Everything is possible, but nothing is certain.

Extreme changes in life

After a month and a half of traveling in Peru we decided to make some changes in our lives once we’re back in Estonia.

For example:

– we start our day with meditation. 20 minutes of silence and quiet flow of thoughts.

– take out our new food processor and make a liter and a half of fresh smoothie. With japa. And add a pinch of maka and coca leave powder.

– Before we leave home, we have a bite of coca leaves with banana ashes. Tastes better, gives more energy. Don’t mind the bit of green between our teeth, coca leaves are your friends.

– When there’s a storm outside or it starts to rain, we take the coca leaves chewed into a ball from our mouth and dig them into the ground. Mother Nature likes the chaotic energy hucha (coca leaves, alcohol, blood of llamas). In return, we’re granted with a good weather and good energy (sami).

– When we go out to dine in a restaurant, we pour the first half of a glass of wine to the floor. For the same reason – Pachamama likes it.

– When hurrying up the Toome hill, we breath through our throat like the Tibetans and walk like the people from the Andes. When walking up a hill, you have to imagine you’re walking down. It works. Tested on Machu Picchu. It’s all psychological.

– No drinking in Zavood in the weekends – instead, we spend our evening sitting somewhere nice in the nature and drinking San Pedro. (First drop to Pachamama. She likes that, too.)

– Listen to some music at home. But there have to be ikaros from the jungle shamans and other spiritual musicians rocking the playlist.

– When we fall ill, we make a healing tea from several herbs and blow tobacco smoke on our body while thinking hard about recovering. In addition, we suck the bad energy out from behind each other’s ears and spit it all out to Pachamama.

– In summer, we diligently pick strawberries and apples from our neighbour’s garden. Because actually, the fruits do not belong to the neighbour, but Pachamama.

– When we need a new car, a house or more money, we set a table for Pachamama – adding a small toy car, a toy house, a few dead animals, and burn coca leaves in front of the Estonian National Bank. 

– When we build a house, we have to kill a llama, stuff it up and bury it under the foundation. 

– All of our female friends are called mamitas and all our male friends amigos from now on.

– And we shall treat everyone with warm kisses.

Final resting place of the Inca culture – Machu Picchu

Finally, we’re there. After two days of hiking in cold, hot, rain and thunder. After two bags of chewed coca leaves, legs bitten to bits by mosquitoes, thirst and hunger, we’re finally there – in the lost city of the Incas, the Machu Picchu.
We gasp. But not for the thin air 2,5 km above sea level, but because of mere amazement of what we were witnessing. A city full of houses without roofs, squares and fields built on the tops of unreachable mountains, llamas eating grass between them. A fortress was built just before the Spanish came without the use of concrete or a wheel. We take our boots off to absorb good energy straight from the rocks we’re standing on and walk in the labyrinths of the town, amazed by the scent of Inca aristocracy that once inhabited the place. Now we know – castles in the air do exist. We sit on grass next to the llamas, have a picnic, layers of clouds the only things we can tell below us. Clouds float through the houses of this city in the air, they lure in the windows, in the cracks of walls, condense and sink through stone wall. Beyond all, the profile of a giant sleeping Inca is appearing from the mountain landscape, guarding the ancient metropolis.
We decide to ascend from the stairs to heaven. Wayna Picchu (an old mountain or the nose of a sleeping Inca) is strong enough to rise through another layer of clouds. Climbing 300 meters uphill seems like a distance only an athlete could conquer. Finally, when we reach our goal, a lonely platform wide enough for exactly the three of us hanging over abyss, we feel indescribable satisfaction. We open a bottle of red wine and make friends with an eagle flying above us. (When a silly tourist wanted to photograph the eagle, the Porn Director said it’s his pet. The photographer admired the bird and complemented us for the bird being so loyal. Naive people…) Our toes hang from the sky, over the cliff. Only green mountain tops and grey clouds are on our eye level. We can see the fog condensing and pouring down as rain with our own eyes. Terje has been meditating for a while by then, sitting legs crossed and hands in a closed protective position, looking somewhere towards the sun we’re extra close today. Rivers rustle beneath us. We feel the energy of the old empire steeping under our skin. We dig a hole in the ground, sacrifice some coca leaves to the Pachamama and wait for the rain to stop so we could descend.

Once we were out of Machu Picchu and wanted to get back to Cusco, our chances getting there were so slim, riding down freezing mountain tops for ten hours in an open trailer seemed reasonable. Like animals, we got to the back of the truck with two Colombians, two Frenchmen and some other people and let the vehicle carry us in the cold, wind and on a hard surface for hours. We had a conversation with law students from Columbia who were dead certain that legalizing cocaine is the only possible solution for the countries in South-America. We cuddled up as a bunch, passed around a raisin strudel and wished a happy christmas for everyone.