Co-Creating Combustible Circus Culture

Before I bring on the circus clowns I feel like whingeing about problems of the third world, which make me realise how much I take for granted because I'm from the lucky country. Without further adieu, my friends, here are *drum roll* ...

Kelly's Problems of the Third World

1. Having to manually push turds through the s-bend of the toilet because people have been partying in The Fifth Dimension all night and flushing their ass paper in the toilet instead of turfing it in the bin. Which creates a pipe blockage. Which means that the next person who empties their colon leaves a happy surprise for unsuspecting persons to break up with a stick and dredge through the s-bend if they want the toilet to work. I think I can call myself an s-bend warrior after today.

2. Not having any cash for the past few days because the two ATMs in town only work when they feel like it. Oh wait, avocados fall out of the trees here...I guess that's not so much of a problem.

aaaaaand that's it! Ok whinge over, onto the good shit!

Last night it was time to send in the clowns at The Fifth Dimension and they came a runnin' from every corner of the Earth. A troupe of Chilean and Mexican circus performers and gypsy musicians co-hosted the evening with us, and I'm talking crazy-ass dudes riding six foot tall unicycles whilst juggling machetes and setting shit on fire kind of thing. Serious clown action. We're all surprised that the cafe is still standing and that none of the avocado trees in the beer garden went up in flames. With a gypsy troupe of crazy fuckers like that you can imagine how many people were crawling over the fence to get in on the action...there was a sea of people pouring out into the street and we nearly lost the fence altogether. There's something very special about being able to make people come together to laugh and clap and sing and dance and go home full of happy vibes and badass pizza slices. Street performers have to be some of the bravest people in the world, giving their all for everyone and then passing a hat around at the end of the night and somehow making a living like that. I WANT IN ON THIS LIFESTYLE. These people are amazing and so free and they bring joy to the world wherever they go.

A camera phone doesn't do justice to the evening but here are some snaps from the end of the night when we were trying to boot people out on curfew. So by the time I snapped these badboys it was one a.m and this puppy (who hates people) was so tired that it didn't have the energy to stop me from spooning it. ZOMG CUTE OVERLOAD.

aaaaand I reiterate, it's past one a.m, fools, ya gotta go home now.

here are two of the space-weasels I get to work with, Oak and Brian. Maybe it's Maybelline.

In other breaking news, I have finished the first panel for the cafe. Over the course of the week in which it took to paint I've had an offer to paint murals on the walls of a local hostel, have been introduced to the local art school where I might be volunteering and teaching local kids to paint, and have been approached by a family who'd like me to tutor their kids privately. Not to mention meeting scores of really awesome people, locals and travellers all of whom have interesting stories and a slightly different take on life which helps me to review everything I do and to question what can change and how I can change those things that I don't enjoy about myself.

I don't know what the question is, but the answer is aliens, Panel 1 of 2. I'm kicking off on panel two manana (tomorrow), and I'M EXCITED! It's going to look awesome. This photo is pretty terrible and maybe I need to make friends with a photographer. Anyway you get the gist. As my brother pointed out, look at Quetzalcoatl shooting the breeze like a honey badger, wearing a peacock on his head like he doesn't give a fuck :)

Lago Atitlan

There's a lot of mythology and speculation regarding Lake Atitlan, which is all pretty exciting. It's the deepest lake in Central America, over 350 metres at its most mysterious, and that means that the few people who are unfortunate enough to drown in the lake each year leave no trace of their final moments on Earth. This has led to lots of stories as to why there is no trace of the drowned; some say it's a portal to another dimension, some say it's a seagate, and all of these otherworldly hypotheses are candy for my brain although it's just as likely that some of the large fish living in the depths enjoy a nice snack of flesh, and the bones sink to the bottom to be covered in silt and algae like any good bone deserves.

I went kayaking on the lake these last few days. Have you ever seen something so beautiful that you found it hard to breathe for a few minutes? I don't think I've had that before, or maybe I did one time when I saw the Red Eyes play in Fremantle and the singer took his shirt off. But this was a more profound experience; being in the middle of the lake surrounded by light beams spearing through clouds all the way to the mountains, and the only sounds the slap of lake on hull and a dull thudding of tribal drums from a village across the lake. I would have taken a photo, except the kayaks are fairly dodgy here and some of them look like the holes have been caulked with twistie wrappers - I'm not taking anything on them that can't get wet. In the middle of that lake with the dull thudding of the drums I had a moment of pretending I was a Mayan warrior returning home from a long quest of heroic deeds. This dream died in the arse after a few minutes of vigorous warrior-like paddling, at which point my arms felt like they were about to fall off. And then I realised how big this lake really is - google says it covers an area of 127 km2, and google knows best right? Irrespective of the numbers, it's some God's paddling pool that's for sure.

It's good to reward exercise with chocobananas...

Another interesting story I've heard a few times about the Lake is that members of royal and political families the world over (many of whom are closely related when their family trees are traced...David Icke waxes lyrical on this for those who are curious) come to Lago Atitlan to kick the boot, cark it, bite the dust....or DO THEY? If seagates and those kinds of energetic portals are possible then are these families who are monopolising the power on the planet peeling off their meatsuits and beaming on up, Scotty? Interesting to think about, although it's also on the far end of what we'd call conjecture. Pure unadulterated brain confection! I'm going out to the middle of this lake as much as possible anyway. If there's any chance of observing strange activity or being in the middle of said strange activity, I'm all on that gravy train.

A theory with more credence is that Mayan ruins bathe in relative privacy at the bottom of Lake Atitlan. It makes sense since the water level has been steadily rising from the time the Lake was created - the lake itself is the giant acne scar of an old volcano which would have made the sonic boom-booms when it blew its lid. If I didn't want to get my diving ticket before I certainly do now. Is it possible to dive to depths of 350 metres? I'm KEEEEEEN.

Really though, there is a lot to eye off around the lake before I dig deep into the ribs of lady Atitlan. Mayan ruins are everywhere, as are vestiges of Mayan culture in the 22 Indigenous populations surrounding the lake. Also, I really need to learn Spanish. In a sojourn to the local vegie market today I had a hard time asking for a bloody pineapple. I'll be checking into Spanish school pronto, amigos.

The Fifth Dimension Cafe, San Pedro

Tucked between three volcanoes and enjoying front row seats to Lake Atitlan, San Pedro La Laguna is a small town with a fiesty vibe. It certainly packs a punch well above its size, and throngs of gringos storm through for the live music party times and of course to trek through the wilderness which photos really don’t do justice. San Pedro is about a four hour bus ride from Guatemala City, although I discovered on my way here that some bus drivers flip the bird to the physical dimensions of time and space and take their sweet time. I enjoyed the seven hour bus ride here because it really is so pretty, and also because the driver was so obviously ripped that it was funny. At one point he jumped out of the bus without saying a word, and left the motor running. Twenty minutes later the bus full of gringos, all accustomed to the relative precision of modern society, got worried and a few scouts went to look for him. He was located in a nearby restaurant, balls deep in a plate of chicken tortillas. Who could begrudge him that? Actually it’s nice to know that life doesn’t stop here just because a bus full of tourists want to arrive somewhere. And check the place out...so worth the extended bus drive

I didn't take that photo by the way. Naughty. No but really it's hard to get a quality photo capturing all the beauty here. Even that photo above is a poor rendition.

The reason I’m travelling direct to an obscure wrinkle on the map of Guatemala is because an old friend just opened a café here with two of his travelling buddies. They called the café The Fifth Dimension which excites me no end. I know I know, I ranted on about unicorn glitter fart hippie jargon, didn’t I? Don’t read this paragraph then. The reason I’m excited though is because they have asked me to paint the café, and with a title as lofty as The Fifth Dimension my art can get as visionary as it wants to. I can channel extra-terrestrial, rainbow unicorn fairy dolphin farts and Mayan energy all at once into that artwork. The canvas is huge – a whole café. This is enough to make an artist weak at the knees with gratitude. I’m sorry, you wanted me to paint your whole café and I can paint whatever I want and you’ve called your café The Fifth Dimension??? Shut up, that’s just too good! Behold the Mayan-inspired signage I sketched up a few days ago in this flyer

My price to paint the café is for these hombres to feed me and put a roof over my head. Bartering is awesome. It means that money doesn’t get in the way of people remembering that they’re doing something because they love doing it. Here we are people, I’m making it public. If you would like me to paint something for you, feed me and give me somewhere to sleep. If I need to be where you are to do the painting direct onto the wall, find a way to get me there too. And not first class, please. I don’t wanna sit in a cabin full of chums who think they deserve more than everyone else.

The beginnings of one panel for the cafe. Oh yesssss I'm painting Quetzalcoatl...

I’ve been helping out in the kitchen at The Fifth Dimension too, because even though the powerhouse trio comprised of Bryan, Oak and Michael only opened the time portal one week ago they are getting BUSY. This is probably because they have awesome things on the menu like lines of spirulina. Yep, the terrible trio were snorting spirulina and getting customers into it too. Diabolical. It happens all at once too. In my first night of working in the café over 100 people poured into the beer garden, a massive acoustic jam cranked up replete with African drumming and dog fights, a local passed out in the garden, a guy got out his fire poi and twirled, customers drank the bar dry and this went on and on until closing time when we had to physically push people out into the street. There were some sore looking heads walking around town the following morning, although people are still talking about that night and it’s been getting busier since. Here is a photo someone hastily snapped of the merriment before scuttling back to the kitchen to serve the punters

Cafes in Guatemala are very different to those in Australia, because this is a ‘developing country’. Therefore water is only pumped to the café once every two days and we need to be careful with every drop when we do the dishes. Food here is seasonal and grown organically. If it’s not growing in the ground here it’s hard to source and will cost a lot of money. As a result, every item of food on the menu at The Fifth Dimension is handmade including the English muffins, the juice, the pizza dough, the sauces, all of it. The coffee is grown and roasted two streets away. Local farmers drop by every day with their freshly picked herbs. How much more love is in the food when every aspect of growth, delivery and preparation has had human involvement rather than machines? If the taste is anything to go by then I’m saying there’s no comparison to mass-produced processed food. All this food is hand picked at the vegie markets in town, and because we are on the edge of the lake and surrounded by mountains that means you gotta walk up, up, up – tomatoes, limes, avocadoes, papaya and bananas are in ready supply if your legs can get you there. It’s jolly good exercise and on the way down I like to reward myself with a chocobanana – ye olde frozen banana impaled on a splinter of wood then dipped in chocolate is officially my favourite icecream of all time.

This is not a chocobanana. This is Michael and Bryan doofing on the couch at the rear of The Fifth Dimension...

Did I mention that there are no cars in San Pedro? The cobbled streets are too narrow. Some of the streets can fit a tuk-tuk but there really aren’t that many. So the first thing I noticed when I walked through the hood was that I could hear my own footsteps and the air tasted good everywhere. Other huge things I notice about Guatemala include their acceptance of animals in restaurants and shops (I love it!) and again, because this is a ‘developing’ country their sewerage system is not very water guzzling and therefore toilet paper can’t be thrown in the toilet – it is placed in a bin beside the toilet. This is the same as South America and probably other places too. It takes a bit of getting used to. I think rubbish is burned here rather than dumped in a hole in the ground, although I can’t confirm that yet. One thing’s for certain though – people don’t create much rubbish here.

My first few days in Guatemala have been full of laughs yet fairly low on the sleep factor. I get a bit manic when I’m jetlagged and it makes everything funny and silly and then I don’t want sleep anyway. Last night I hit the wall and passed out hard, thank goodness. I was starting to speak in jabberwocky tongues

Searching for Quetzalcoatl, Riding the Rainbow Serpent Through Guatemala.

It’s pretty clear from 30,000ft above Guatemala that you are about to enter a special place. Lush green mountains fold and roil like a huge python as far as the eye can see, and life forces itself into every available wrinkle upon the face of the Earth, which feels older here. Vestiges of ancient Mayan architecture are visible even as the plane splices through the clouds to birth itself into a land of lost secrets.

The current populace becomes visible very slowly on the descent, because they’ve maintained the wisdom of living around nature instead of bulldozing over it. This is nothing new for many ‘developing’ countries of course. The beauty of this way of life is almost painful when I compare it to the view of the various cities I’ve flown into over the past few days – Miami, Los Angeles, Sydney and Brisbane are an absolute eyesore by day and night. In daylight these grey wastelands are pock marked and necrophagus tissue threatening to spread ever further into remaining lands. By night, city lights join up to make huge glowing cobwebs which look beautiful for a few minutes, until one remembers all the non-renewable resources currently utilised in the relentless push for more and more power (electrical and economical).

It pains me to see how beautiful Guatemala has remained in the face of this global capitalist thought wave because I am still complicit in many ways with the ‘New World.’ As disdainful as I am of every city’s attempts to flatten Earth’s wrinkles and throw concrete over the top, and to dig deep beneath Earth’s skin for more and more blood, I have a laptop, a kindle and a phone. I forget to bring my cloth bag shopping and end up getting plastic bags. I still buy stuff that’s wrapped in plastic. I have more clothes than I can wear in a week. I go to the cinema. I eat too much food. All of this and more is right in my face every time I stomp my big fucking carbon footprints and fly on yet another carbon munching plane to an old world paradise. I keep coming to these places because I know the way I’m living is killing this planet and that makes me the most hypocritical vegetarian alive. It is in the knowing of something after all that it becomes murder and not ignorant slaughter.

The gist of this blog is such; if these cities are really the pinnacle of society I want to opt out and to help other people opt out too. If I live close to the Earth in a community that honours the Earth, I’ll have more chance of hearing the truth about who I am and what I’m doing here, and what my part is to play in this cosmic dance of form (cheers Eckarte Tolle). This theory is nothing new to me or anyone else who has turned the television off for more than five minutes of course. There’s been a bit of a lag for me between thinking the thought and then putting it into action though. It’s time to start doing it, not just blabbing about it and then feeling like a douchebag because I’m still buying plastic wrapped crap from mainstream supermarkets.

So two days ago, as I crushed my face against the thick window of the plane that was dropping into Guatemala, I finally figured out why I wanted to come here so bad. I want to learn how to live alongside the Earth and make sure that every footprint I leave is a kiss not a blow. I want to learn to love myself and the Earth so much that I don’t need to overeat and overspend and over-everything. I’m over that.

Not only on a hand to mouth level though. I want to expand my consciousness to regain the capacities that have been lost in the sideshow alley distractions of modern society. Telepathy, communication with all living beings, inclusion in intergalactic communities - I’ve had a number of strange life experiences that I still don’t entirely understand and it would be nice to expand my current capacities…blah blah blah I won’t go on because a few of you who read this have surely had enough of the ‘unicorn glitter fart’ jargon of the new age hippie movement. I agree, there’s something that stinks of denial in a lot it. Don’t live in a mansion on the coast of California and preach about chakra alignments, retards. Don’t say you’re religious and then work in the mines and insure your life and everything you ‘own’ – faith huh? Don’t say we are all one and then drive your petrol guzzling hummer to a high paying job because the work you do makes you deserve more than everyone else. I’m pointing the finger at myself too. Don’t point the finger Kel because that doesn’t solve the problem either. Apologies, I’m just confused and angry about the way the world continues to be governed and I’m resentful for my part in allowing it to continue like this.

So I’m pissed off just now and it’s time to sign off and go for a walk. But this process is good and it illuminates a few deep seated challenges that require attention. I am hungry for the truth. I am wary of bullshit. I am tired of talking about 2012 and the turn of the new age and the new consciousness and then continuing to make the same mistakes. I acknowledge that I don’t have all the answers and I want to be quiet enough inside so that I can listen to them.

I am searching for Quetzalcoatl.

Guatemala is the main centre of Mayan civilisation and this is probably a good starting point to hunt for that elusive rainbow feathered serpent. I’ll elaborate later on reasons for choosing Quetzalcoatl as the metaphor for truth, but suffice to say it has a lot to do with DNA, repetitive mention of serpents in all creation stories around the world, sexuality and of course aliens.

I hope that in reading my blog you can relate on some level to what I’m saying and feeling, and that any nuggets of truth I unearth may be of assistance in your own emergence into the magnificent being that you already are. We’ve just forgotten who we are and we need to remember now and yesterday (which is now as well), because our repeated attempts to make life more comfortable by manipulating the environment around us rather than healing our discomfort from within is not only killing us, it’s killing our beautiful planet.

Adios for now, amigos. I love you all more than I ever have been able to convey in word and deed. May we all continue to make new colours in our consciousness so that we can express how truly fucking awesome we really are.