I am here to relax, en feeled earth-energy in borneo-jungle. Then the magic transmission start to burn. The answer to the quest. The old world appears me conform, me between my head and the Stone age. This old world looks into my eyes and stups me on my nose. I'm pro seevoced. We put our heads together, with a movement of my hand I catch, hypnotice a glance of the old world: we'll do magic! I wisper. If a man comes back to the cave he's a man-eater, the cannibal & the wild guess of religious freedom is between me and the presence, now there is only between you and me. If the mandaganod (fierce headhunter warrior) comes to a me now I would be a missionary in Stone age. Empty gospel is something between me and the Futur, I pretend to predict. Seriously, my name is sunny, I'm funny but I have no money(in Stone age language; nohead). The flower Rafflesia told me: in the jungle, Think before you act, security is first. I'm hunting and running, it seems more as I'm running away. First stop, then turn, then stand whatever's coming. The vegie satyagraha answers peaceful protest, answer violence with nonviolence. The headhunter propagation engage only in the practice, but teaching 'le Savage' would be practice of generosity.
Der Hunde drei Woelfe, Auge sei wachsam, Eisenkunst im heiligen Feuer
Italienische Glut versteht er, Chinesische kraft zwingt
martial art
Das Herz hat eine Schwaerze Sanftheit. Mit dem Teufel all in.
Das Feuer sein Feuergeheimnis selbst preisgibt.
Dunkel ist der working class Hero. Er muss sich clever bewegen, die Beauty ist free.
Ich gehe in mich. Ich bin geschützt.
The magic blanket, called 'pua kumba' from Borneo shamanism, weaved from witches with metal rings, tripping like an eagle on bethel.
Emptiness. & samadi. --- Samadi
The phantom of the witches: the black krokodile blanket. I know all her patterns, I know the black kroko is more huge than the witch. The vehicle of the green witch. In the hunter settlement in the Jungle. There the kroko is carseld safely in a wood cage, a starter, it's just, don't think it's play-game, an earth dragon about two train wagons long, the head is free, it's a non fire spying kroko. I pass dangerously closely by this head.
I promise to be the heart of the kroko, I promise to be the hunter, and I promise to be the spearhead.
I go flat after bathing more than three years in all that kroko's blood. It's runed out now. Don't worry, all my Futur sins are burned, altogether the blood will become my certain armour. But the armour is not what I really get, an immense Treasury of Rafflesia and skulls
There is only between you and me, this is the transmssion. As long as two equal heads call this parallel construction. They show up in religion, so I make the religions that you join match, so that they mirror each other. Either I break the laws of my engagement or I do not, this I is now mirrored. A disaster of near-raflesia-sized proportions results from the way things interact, and I will be swept up in the tidal wave of 'i' or 'me'. I have a plan, but please keep this between you and me. I can't be used as an object for anything. It sounds funny, poll the thumb, it's not foolproof but you and me have a good chance of getting the clue. Check one by one, in human orang(man) we trust and edit out the empty or fakers. The real one is of course what I and you agree with. Illuminate the real work, eliminate empty orangs. This is the original view. Mirror like emptiness or lense crossview? Crossfire for the explorers of Borneo. I have a chance, and I will thank you, for everyone of us, who goes and not comes back from the jungle. Something is missing. In the midst of truly earth-shattering events, love actually worry's about wether spiritual discipline or playing in tradition is the path to supreme enlightenment. Homo sapiens justification is based on a logic that the ultimate orang is the offending play-game(Lila) of love & Compassion. Thus it is not acceptable, that those younger fingerwavers, -pointers, would like you to believe that only one of two is correct. Well, they are wrong, and here is why. My Raflesia is big and wild, its a parasite with the smell of rotten meat.
Helplessly, my both grandfather's came back from the headhunters trail, they had accomplished the vicious trails and reached finally the living dead.
"He has my compassion, for I forgot him innocently, the trail never is exhausting, I am set on fire, I could not carry the big flower, Raflesia, away that my mother hated in this, contention land: " You should not decorate the body!" - "But slog the bony framework of the head, sledge-hammer wildly smacks on the forehead. Understand this pitch dark. A psychological progress, non-drama is the truth. An orange who uses weird cloth, hair-styles, and jewellery to shock other orang-orang is a punk.
An ancient worldly treaty to prevent the spread of a desease. A peace-treaty of non-nations.
How better could a young man, who had a long-expressed interest in both, art and exotic travel, carve a new place for himself in the family pantheon than to seize the opportunity to join an academic expedition intent on documenting the rituals of a far-flung primitive tribe, like the Dani than eating Rockefeller, thus his spirit must serve them in the afterlife. From there his head would strike out on his own to acquire primitive art to bring home the newly head.
It is not a headhunter’s responsibility to tell you what you’re good at.
“The biggest mistake most headhunters make when they approach a new head, is not knowing what they want,” says the Dani, an executive recruiter and man-eater:
“It’s not a headhunter’s responsibility to tell you what they think you might be good at — that’s the job of a counselor. The headhunter’s job is to find that opportunity. When the head says that they are ‘open to new opportunities’ a headhunter hears, ‘I’m clueless.' this is the cannibal & headhunter transmission(in stone age language; nomind).