i just wanna live man.

the man is bringin me down everywhere i go.

Indigo Children

So here I am listening to "Indigo Children" by Puscifer (amazing personal music project led by Tool's Maynard James Keenan) and it hit something in the core of me. Every beat.. every word heard and every sound meshed so well together. I googled "indigo children" so I could find out every bit of it and came across a beautiful topic.

Indigo Children.
Believed to represent a higher state of human evolution. Distinguished by more conventional traits such as empathy and creativity. The term itself is referenced to the belief that such people have an indigo aura. A rare color of aura found in people only 60% of the time between the ages of 14-25. And more likely found in children under 10. Indigo children are highly sensitive with a clear sense of self-definition and a strong feeling that they need to make a significant difference in the world. They are strong-willed, independent thinkers who prefer to do their own thing rather than comply with authority figures. They are empathic and can easily detect or are in tune with the thoughts of others, and are naturally drawn to matters concerning mysteries, spirituality, the paranormal and the occult, while opposing unquestioned authority and contradictory to convention. They tend to think outside the box, and are often referred to as "system busters." Indigos allegedly possess wisdom and level of awareness "beyond their years." They are also said to have a strong feeling of entitlement, or "deserving to be here." Indigo children also possess defining characteristics in learning; indigos tend to be more visual, kinesthetic learners so remember best what they can picture in their brain and create with their hands. Movement is required to keep them better focused.

This concept intrigues me beyond measure. And the fact that it speaks so me in such a hard hitting fashion makes me think :

There are people out here in this mess of a world that are in tune with not just themselves as beings... but with all surroundings; truly caring for the quality of life on this planet whether it be nature or for all animal kind - humans especially. A people where there is such a strong connection to the earth, its own good, and true need to make it a better place. It is almost a necessity to impact this planet in a distinct and defining way. Don't we all want that? I know I do. I always think to myself, at least when it comes to my art... that not just me alone - but us - this whole new generation, indigo or not, can make a difference. We can make the difference that the past generations have tried to make with great effort but ultimately failed to do. We can get back to our roots as humans. As beings on a beautiful planet where there already is appreciation for the more beautiful things that we contain within ourselves and also have surrounding us. We - as a new generation - can lead all the rest of us humans into that state. People in older ages knew what was good for the earth and it's inhabitants. We've polluted it, and even though I love my grimey dirty New York City... it is not what life should be like here... anywhere. I'm not saying hey - let's, as a whole generation, go naturalist and hippie-fy the world... but they had the right idea. We can make a difference - through our music, through our art, through our minds and the intellect that we were all given as rare gifts making us as beings so superior. It's fucking up to us.

here are the lyrics to "Indigo Children" by Puscifer.

E.M.P. from the mother and son
tore the digital down
dawn of the age of the innocent ones

the indigo children
the indigo children come
the indigo children
the indigo children come
the indigo children
the indigo children come
the indigo children
the indigo children come
the indigo children
the indigo children
when the indigo children come
the indigo children
when the indigo children come
the indigo children
when the indigo children come
the indigo children
when the indigo children come
the indigo children
when the indigo children come


E.M.P. from the mother and son
tore the digital down
dawn of the age of the innocent ones

the indigo children

analog time piece sky wide
sync to the ticker inside
move to the rhythm of the moon and tide

the indigo children
the indigo children
the indigo children
the indigo children

Sirius, Venus. and the lunar child
(get your life up untied)
giggle and the flames grow higher
dance in a circle around a central fire
(dance and laugh and love and learn. Grow higher)

the indigo children

wine, song, food and fire
clothe, shelter and seed

no more need for the old empire
when the indigo children come

Sirius, Venus, and the lunar child
giggle and the flames grow higher
dance in a circle around a central fire

the indigo children

wine, song, food and fire
clothe, shelter and seed

no more need for the old empire(fare thee well to the empire)
when the indigo children come

the indigo children come
the indigo children
when the indigo children come
the indigo children
when the indigo children come
the indigo children
when the indigo children come
the indigo children
when the indigo children come
the indigo children
when the indigo children come
the indigo children
when the indigo children come
the indigo children
the indigo children

Sirius, Venus, and the lunar child
giggle and the flames grow higher
dance in a circle around a central fire

when the indigo children come

wine, song, food and fire
clothe, shelter and seed

no more need for the old empire
when the indigo children come

the indigo children come x13
the indigo children x13

it's beautiful. i'm going to make a piece for it.

mr. no name.

I don’t even know his name, but he’s always around. I see him routinely chain smoking his cigarettes while walking his wiener dog around the block. In the hotter months, his unbuttoned button down reveals a beer belly unable to breathe straining underneath a sweat stained wife beater. In the cooler months, it’s the same outfit, only a faded black leather jacket serves as the top layer. He has a tattoo on his arm but it’s so faded I’ve never been able to tell what exactly it is of. His sepia faded bifocal aviators hide his eyes, and a gold diamond studded Yankees chain hangs on his wrinkled, sun spotted skin. His hair has a salt and pepper mix of color, grown out yet balding at the top creating an awkward crown.

If he isn’t asking someone how they’re doing, about whatever game is on, or how they’re day is, he simply walks some more with his dog until his next opportunity to ask someone, or even anyone, comes.

Every exchange of words I’ve had with him has been short but straight to the point, sort of business like. He asks me how I’m doing every time we cross paths. I’m always okay or doing fine and it’s always the same but it’s good enough for him. He on the other hand, never answers with his voice, but with a strong nod of the head or a smile that ripples the meeting place of his mouth and cheeks. Once he receives confirmation of my understanding that he’s alright as well, our paths separate once again and he carries on as usual.

Every now and then, I sit on my stoop to smoke a few cigarettes and as the time passes I’d see him circle the block at least twice. I wonder about his life… if he has a wife and children or if that little wiener dog is his family. If he truthfully is happy when he says he is or if he just says it to say it. I question his purpose in needing to know how everyone is… if it’s because he’s lonely or just a genuinely nice person. If it is the latter, then I wonder how the world would be if there were more people like him; people who would be outside to be outside, and bring a little funny shaped companion along the way. People who simply wanted to know if those surrounding them at the moment were content; if life is good.

I also wonder if all those deep wrinkles were not just of age but from years of experiencing life lessons the hard way, giving him wisdom beyond his age. If he smokes so many cigarettes, killing possibly two packs a day, from anxiety or even from asking himself all these questions. I wonder how his skin became so blotchy, and in turn making me fear a human’s natural and slow decomposition. Why it seems as though he never works but looks over worked. Why he has so much energy to walk around all day and yet he seems a tired man.

I remember having half a cigarette with him once and not even noticing I smoked that half. I was too deep in my thoughts while paying attention to him talking about me being a Mets fan. Even though it was amusing to have baseball talk with the opposing New York team’s biggest fan, I couldn’t help but wonder about who he is or was; if he was a dashing young man or not. I can picture him being a not so attractive man yet having an intriguing stature and presence. I can see him being even younger and falling in love with being outside all the time, playing in New York City parks with his friends. I can imagine him having a canine companion his whole life and maybe that is why he chooses to be outside with his dog twenty four seven.

Maybe it’s just my need to find a deeper meaning in things but he just seems so mysterious and yet, it could all be so simple. This man who’s name is unknown could simply be an older gentleman who’s experienced all the excitement in life already and has diverted to a life more simple; a life where contentment is defined in slowly traversing up, down, and around a block’s radius with his best friend; a man who knows how he wants to spend his remaining years in a permanent state of relaxation. He could be a man who wants life to be good and to know that he is not the only one around who feels the same way. He is a man who, in his character, has much more depth than his sepia faded bifocal aviators.