No Voice Unheard

Update of February 26, 2007

With the addition of Stro Moon Daglos's story - he is better known as Stavros Mionyi Daghlisz - we have begun to add to this section.

Constance Munger

This may well be the longest section of our website when it is finished.  The intention is to allow virtually everyone who is a member of the Outlands Community to have a chance to talk about themselves: who they are, where and when they live(d), whatever it is that strikes their fancy.  Quite a few of us are active in the Community as artists, writers, musicians, theorists and the like.  But for every "active" member there are ten who rarely or have never made an appearance on the Internet.  We will be creating new member pictures as well as utilizing ones which we have, and at the moment (January 16, 2006) we are discussing whether to place them directly in this page or make yet another gallery.  Just to give you an idea: this is the first time I have written anything on the Internet.  My name is Constance Munger and I died when I was ten, like my friend here at the Community, I too was butchered by my father.  But I will have a fuller tale to tell when the time comes.

I am Stavros Mionyi Daghlisz and I am an archon. Because I have lived for so very long and have, I feel, clear memory of my life, I must only present brief summary of my life! I was born with a very different name in what is now Siberia many centuries ago, some kilometres from the Yenisee River; in my life as a mortal I eventually settled in a small village which eventually became the present day city of Irkutsk. I was the son of a shaman, who was also the son of a shaman. It was upon us that our "family" - our "tribe," as you would say - relied for healing of illness, for locating lost objects and for foreseeing the future as far as securing food was concerned. When I died I had knowledge from my ancestors that I would have longing to reincarnate, that is to become mortal once again, but I was advised against it. Accordingly I resisted the allures of the flesh and remained an ethereal person, until I stopped receiving the call to become enfleshed once again. This is the hallmark of an archon; I was once a mortal human but will no longer be so.

In my day it was the practice for those like myself who had chosen to remain in the ethereal realm to find a mortal with whom we could communicate those things which we had learned. For centuries I joined with my ancestors in this practice in the area of my birth and in the area of Irkutsk, but I often had a longing to "see the world." Siberia as it was then was very beautiful but monotonous and I had often heard stories from travelers of the lands toward the rising, mid-day and setting sun, and so it was that one day I began my journey into the world. Walking when I was of the mood, using faster means when eager to move on, my steps took me toward the setting sun, for it was from this region that I had heard so many stories while in the flesh. Many of the peoples whom I encountered were in many ways like my own, living with deer or other large mammals, and gathering or in rare instance cultivating what plants were needed for bodily sustenance. Eventually I found one very different group living against the eastern sides of the Ural mountains, they were different in every way possible from all other people whom I had seen. They were somewhat larger and somewhat darker than other people, and they had several characteristics and practices which were utterly foreign to my experience. As a shaman I had often used the mushroom amanita muscaria to experience the world of my ancestors and to gain insight; these people did nothing like that at all, they drank fermented beverages made from barley and fruit and would pass into stupor. They had a delusional belief (in my opinion) that some great father-spirit guided them in all that they did, but in reality the "knowledge" of this father-spirit was restricted to a class or clan of priests whose outlook was only for themselves. They felt that the rest of the "family" was there for them to exploit, and they did indeed exploit them. This they did by making declarations that the father-spirit had made demands of the "family" which would only benefit these priests. Thus the priests were supplied with food, clothing, shelter, fermented beverage and sexual partners of both sexes in unlimited supply. They did one other thing which set them apart from others, they waged war and developed weaponry: swords and spears and armor. When their "family" faced shortage of food or arable land, warriors went forth and killed off those who possessed such things. Eventually they spead in every direction and managed to conquer many peoples in many lands, from China to India, throughout Europe and what is now Palestine. They had made some headway into Africa but found that they had little means of conquering or influencing the peoples there. So upon my having learned of these people I travelled into Africa.

They "families" of Africa differed from my own mostly in visual aspect because they were darker-skinned and spoke languages not that unlike my own. They used sacred plants, as did my people, and relied upon ancestors or ethereal wise ones for guidance. Having had more fertile land in which to live, and a more temperate climate, they built cities, but cities which did not poison the land and gobble resources. They were explorers as well, travelling the breadth of the Indian Ocean to as far as Malaysia. In their travels they had many times encountered the "families" now called Australasian by anthropologists, and between them had long before settled what is now southern India, their progenitors today are known as the Munda.

I considered that my sojourn was of great importance, the hope being that one day I might return to my native home and tell all which I had seen and encountered ro some receptive mortal person. But having reached Africa I settled in what is now called Egypt, for there I met many who were aware of my presence and with whom I could and did communicate. Egypt of these days was a land of much evil and of much goodness. The evil was from those of the Ural mountain warriors who had infected the people of that lad; the goodness was native to the people of that place who were not tainted with the drinking and warrior tendencies of the invaders. My decision to remain in that place was influenced by having met another archon, the entity Michael Archontas, as he calls himself these days. Michael was of the African "families" and had like me decided to remain in the ethereal realm. However what we did not realize was that we eventually succumbed to the allure of some aspects of Uralian culture. We lived within priests and priestesses day-in and day-out, using them and their bodies and minds to express ourselves. This went on for centuries and we wound up in what is now present-day Iskendar, ancient Alexandria. It was a repository of knowledge of things arcane and philosophical and scientific from all over the world; as we were both "knowledge-freaks" perhaps this allure may be explained in that way. Michael eventually passed into Syria, where new spiritual movements were underway which seemed to rely upon sacred plants for knowledge from the ancestors. I was content to remain in Alexandria.

With the coming of Islam I removed from the area and unfortunately lost contact with Michael for centuries, but I did return to Siberia. It took many centuries more for me to become again accustomed to the land and its people; much was the same but much had changed, for the Uralian warriors had passed their ways onto the "families" of the area of Mongolia. Still, with eac passing generation I would find someone of my "family" with whom I could communicate my knowledge. Around the year 1925 of this era I found a young soldier of mixed Ukraine and Yakut extraction, whose grandfather had been a shaman, and it was with he that i remained for many years. I was with him during the rise of the Soviet empire and the reign of Jozef Dzugashvilli, or Stalin. This soldier's name was Stavros Mionyi Daghlisz and it was from hhe that I took my name. He was an officer and decorated hero, having several times won the Order of Lenin for his bravery and skill in war. Upon his retirement he was remanded to the small town of Kangallassy, some 30 kilometres from Irkutsk. As at this time he no longer showed much desire for things shamanistic again wandered the aerth and one night in 1970 found a young American under the influence of mescaline.

I should say here that I had long had an abiding interest in music and its performance, and Colonel Daghlisz did as well; to my delight I found this young man full of ideas for music which echoed the sounds of the ethereal realm; his name was Roy Waidler, the man who now, 37years later, channels me as I write these words! We have since that time done much together in music and in things spiritual, and it was to my utter amazement that I again rejoined my old companion Michael Archontas.

 

 

My name is Rinzo and I am here to talk of myself and my wife Mikei.  She too will tell some of our story.  We are from Japan but from many years ago.  In your world we may be classed as ghosts, I suppose.  We neither of us are sexually active persons as are some here, those who are the incubi and succubi as they are called.  In my day and in our world we were familiar with such spirits, and we would treasure their visits.  I myself never had such a visit, nor did anyone whom I directly knew.  Yet all knew stories about them, the kind of stories one tells at a fire over tea or sake.  Such stories liven the blood, test the bravery and honor of a man's heart.  How strange to be a spirit about whom tales are told!

I was samurai and served under the Tokugawa.  As part of my training I had learned the Zen as it had been hinted at, pointed at by warriors who were so versed.  I found that in dispassion lay all passion, that if I went to battle with no thought of winning, no thought of hatred of the enemy, no thought for my safety, no thought at all - well, I always returned home.  If I gave thought to anything, I would suffer wounds, have to fight with skill and not no-skill.  A person who so is, knows what I mean.  You cannot explain Zen, cannot explain what it is.  It must be known and you must be the knower.  It is not this and it is not that.  That is what I can tell you, broothers and sisters!  And so I lived for thirty five seasons, which is long for that time and longer for a warrior.  But a warrior is to keep the peace; one of the peaces to keep is with death, which comes for all.  And is no fear.

After interminable campaigns I found the land at peace.  A fellow warrior, Essa and myself went to the south, seeking a place to live simply until such time as we might be called upon to serve.  Many had died in the fighting in Japan in that day, and not only warriors, but chieftains and farmers, monks and priests, the old and young.  We came upon a small village and we found several small houses, well, they were little more than sturdy huts, all abandoned.  Essa found one near a stand of trees, which was to his delight, he loved to sit under a tree.  I wanted somethingthat looked more like a home and found one.  There was a girl outside, just a wisp of a girl, but she was beating wood to seaparte the fibres to make, probably matting.  I called to her and expected her to scream or to run, but she stood and looked at me, then bowed.  This was Mikei.  Her father had been killed days before by a bandit and she was trying to get by on nothing.  What neighbors there were gave her food, but not much - food was always scarce.  I told her that I needed to live somewhere, that I would provide food if she would provide a home.  She acquiesced immediately.  And so began the only days of peace that I ever knew.

Of Essa I saw little.  Truth be told he was not a friend, there was much that we did not like about each other.  But in battle we were good together, and if ever you have stood shoulder to shoulder witha comrade in arms you overlook these things.  But it now was peace, at least for us.  Essa had his trees and sake and I had a little house and a little wife.  This is when and where we met our end.  Mikei will tell the rest now:

MIKEI:  When my father had been killed I ran away from the village for a few nights, thinking the bandit would kill me as well.  But I grew hungry and returned, and that is when I saw Rinzo, and I was too tired and too hungry to be afraid of him.  I was very dirty also.  But he just wanted a home.  So that was that.  I thought of him as my husband.  We would laugh together a lot.  One night we fell asleep and I woke up coughing, and Rinzo was on top of me.  It was very scary because i could not get out from under him.  But then I saw the house was on fire and he was trying to protect me from the fire by laying on me.  I coughed more and more and it made my head dizzy and suddenly I stopped coughing.  Also, the feeling of awful heat in the air was gone, which was strange, because from what little Icould see from under him, the air itself was fire.  Then I heard him say, "Mikei, you are here?"  And I said, "Yes, of course, where else would I be?"  The things one says when one does not know.  Then he said, "Mikei, we are dead.  The roof caved in and the fire has killed us."  I started to laugh because that was such a strange thing to say, since I was alive.  But then as I thought, I don't feel the fire and I am not coughing, could it be?  Rinzo said to me, "Stand up."  Without thinking I stood up, but it was hard for a moment, it was like I was stuck by silk under him.  But then when I was standing I was next to him and all around us was fire.  He pointed down and I saw our bodies and knew that he was right, we were dead.  We thought it was funny in some way.

The fire burned down and neighbors came.  They dug a pit and put us in it, and a priest came from somewhere and said things asking we do no harm.  We would not have hurt anyone anyway, but it was pretty strange, this little fellow telling us we could not stay around our home because we had died.  That seemed to be funny also.  We were about to leave when we saw Essa come, he had been drinking, and saw what had happened.  He bowed his head and looked, but not at us, and began to speak.  He said, "I believe you are here, my brother.  Forgive how i felt in my heart to you, and I forgive you the same.  It was always good to fight alongside of you, you were a man of highest honor.  I will miss your presence in my life, goodbye."  Then he bowed and turned to go.

RINZO:  So in my heart I thought what is kokoru and said, "go and live long, Essa."  He turned around, his eyes were big, but then he laughed and said, "You rascal you, I knew you were here.  I cannot see you but I can feel you and you are laughing.  Well, I am laughing!  Goodbye, Rinzo!  Think of me!"

Hiya, my name is Fred Logan, Surfer Fred they used to call me.  Here's stuff for any of you that are interested in checking up on our claims.  I died off the coast of Malibu in May of 1976 in a surfing acciednt, I was like 38 years old and went out in rough surf.  I did that any number of times before but this time my board went out from underneath me and I went down under the wave, which held me down long enough to drown.

I was what they used to call a beach bum I guess, I made my living tending bar and working odd jobs and in factories when it really got desparate.  My best car was a '65 Mustang, it was that Mustang blue that everyone liked back then.  My dad was a drunk and he's the reason I left home early, I met a woman named Mona who took me in and made me into a lover-boy, well, that's what she called me!  We liked each other and had a lot of good times in the sack, but she had a lot of time she spent of  the phone and was always arguing with someone.  Well, she never would tell me her age but I guess she was in her early thirties.  Funny thing about Mona, she didn't drink or smoke reefer, nothing like that.  That's pretty much what made us part company.  I managed to get my hands on a small bottle of vodka and got plastered.  I think I was like seventeen, well, I had been with her for a while by then.  When I got home I was feeling good, no doubt, and she wigged, calling me a drunken no-good bum and got all my shit and threw it and me out of the house.  Me, I was like shocked, maybe even hurt, but it showed me then, there wasn't no love in our thing.  So I spent the night at a buddy's palace and told my boss at the restaurant I needed a place to stay, so he fixed me up with a friend of his who had a place near the beach at Malibu.  He let me in on the promise I'd pay as I went, which I did.  This pad was just the best in my opinion, it was just one big room with a shower stall and a kitchen, and oh yeah, the toilet was behind a wood panel.

I probably worked steadiest at this point, I understood that working meant I had a place to stay and wasn't about to mess that up.  I would sometimes meet a girl at the restaurant and bring her home for a night of fun, but that wasn't a lot, we're talking the 1960's here.  But I got in good with my boss simply because I showed up for work and did my job, didn't need to be a rocket scientist to like clean fish, peel onions, do dishes and put the stock and produce in the coolers when an order came in.  I saved up enough money to by a board and learned partly by myself and partly by talking with the kahunas who seemed to be on the beach day and night.  This was some time before the Beach Boys and the Surfin USA hit the radio, so it was really cool, I was in on it long before it turned into a circus with kids from Kansas showing up thinking they were top kahuna or something.

I learned about mixing drinks at the bar, I wasn't old enough to tend bar but the owner and bartender ran me through the basics and for my twenty-first birthday the owner had a party for me at the restaurant and I was allowed to legally make and serve a drink for the first time, it was a vodka collins for the owner's sister.  It made her smile and she gave me a tip!  Well, I didn't tend bar all that much but it gave the bartender a break, he was usually there seven nights because he needed the bread.  But sometimes it would get to be too much and he'd tip me he wasn't coming in the next night and I would be Surfer Fred the bartender.  Things were going good but you know how that is, the owner called me aside one day and said he was losing money because some place across the way was getting a lot of business, that he was going to have to close.  He gave me a recommendation and told me to try across the street so I did and got the job.  Oh yeah, he also gave me a severance, it was like $200 cash, which was a lot of bread back then.

That is my life for the next seventeen years in a nutshell.  I worked, I surfed, I had a cool car always, and was always getting some chickie or other to spend a night or two.  Sometimes they would have weed, which I really liked, but I never much went after it, the laws were really bad back then, everyone thought if you smoked reefer you were an addict.  Some bullshit, huh?  When the Beach Boys got Malibu a whole lot off attention it was cool in a way but mostly it was a pain in the ass because there were a million tyros on the beach all the time, kids with custom glas boards that their parents had bought them because they whined to get them, and the BP was always fishing some idiot out of the water.  Up until then the beach rules were pretty simple but then it got pretty intense with the do's and don'ts.  The only time really good to go out was early early in the morning IF the surf was up.

Time has a way of passing and I was getting older, I didn't want to admit it, but the mirror told no lies, so did the number of chickies who would spend time at my place, they got fewer and farther between.  But I had the things I loved, my board and my car, and when the "surfing craze" died out we had the beach back pretty much.  You can see that I lived a pretty simple life, and I'll bet some of you are thinking it was a pretty shallow life too.  Well, what can I say, I enjoyed my life and tried not to hurt anybody, and don't think I really did.  Sometimes I would wonder what it would be like to fall in love, I mean really let go of myself and go crazy for some girl, but from here now I can see I carefully avoided situations where that might happen.  It's easy to see from here where I am now, when your mother or father say they love you and treat you like shit all your growing up years, you have little use for love, it's just a word meaning abuse and hurt, so I always stopped short of getting really involved.  I did learn to trust some people, I did learn to respect some people, and that is what love is based upon you see.  But "in love," you know, where the person in love looks like they're high on some thing or another, never got that far.   But when I got here it was a different story.  I just wandered in one morning, I could sense there were a whole bunch of people like me and I went to look.  This was usually not a good idea because so many people are as miserable dead as when they were alive, but these guys seemed different.  They were laughing and throwing the bull with Roy, our channeler, and he had no problem seeing me with that second sight of his, or whatever he calls it.  So right after I introduced myself Sara announces that I'm going to be the Minister of Cool.  I didn't know what to say!  They thought I was cool?  Cool!  So I'm the Minister of Cool for the Outlands Community!  My job is like so hard!  And love?  Yeah!  I fell in love, and here's the goof:  I fell in love with a guy!  How's that? He's my bud and my love and best friend in one, I'm talking about Tua Tipala!   
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