The Kindly Ladies: stories before civilizations and the wars
The Telling by Koyote the Blind
Release Date: 10/28/2017
The Telling by Koyote the Blind
Mama spider. Mama spider.
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This Telling was recorded on May 13, 2010 in Riverside, California.
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This Telling is about the beginning of the kindly ladies. The spinning of the web that begins in the chaotic silence of confusion swirling about.
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I heard the stories as the world who was old was disappearing.
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We live in a jungle of stories, and in this Telling Koyote talks not to the audience, but to the shadows and whispers in this endless jungle.
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This Telling was performed on April of 2012 at Back to the Grind, with Mama Walks on Water contributing haunting vocals during one of the stories.
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There is a tavern at the end of time. After all experiences are past and gone, and all worlds fade as dreams by the light of day, we meet at the last place where stories are told.
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I discuss the "Oceanic Triptych" series and the origin of each of its episodes. Also, there is a brief presentation on what the Telling is.
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This is the third Telling of the Oceanic Triptych. It was performed in Santa Cruz, and dedicated to Babaji (Baba Hari Dass)–who initiated Koyote in Kriya Yoga in 1988.
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The second Telling of the Oceanic Triptych series was performed in Santa Fe, where we were fortunate to have Tito Rios accompanying Koyote with his classical guitar.
info_outlineI heard the stories as the world who was old was disappearing.
I heard the stories with the unequivocal assurance that they were true exactly as they were told. It made me wonder how many stories were hidden in the darkness, after the light of humans came, after the subconscious myth of gods and voices was erased from the light. Made me wonder what was lurking in the shadows of my racial memory.
What remained behind corpses under the ground and what was to come out if I was to open my mouth bigger than my face and look at the sky with eyes of infinite sadness?
What would happen if I would let something spin and spin and spin around until I became centered and everything disappeared and fell and moved?
What would happen if I spun these stories not with words, but sensations and moments with small movements and gentle spans—and the darkness within illuminated through infinite spaces?
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