Chapter Four

‘One is in motion
That motion is love.
You are that One in motion, in expression
Here and now.’

Chapter Four

From Tepoztlan with Love: the Initiation
“…truth is in the obvious.”

There are not words in any language, except perhaps Sanskrit or ancient Nahuatl, which can describe in measure the initiation episode Michael Bowen experienced that night in 1964. The English language can be somewhat crude and at times inadequate, in this area of expression; nonetheless, an attempt must be entered for understanding the transformation experienced by Michael in that garden in Tepoztlan, Mexico, else the rest of his actions leading to the production of the Human Be-In will appear incomprehensible. However, this is not the principal reason why the full story has never been told. There are hints of the complete story concerning Bowen’s incognito social actions of the Sixties, and glimpses of some of the design that purposely appeared at the Human Be-In, but in all the present day journalism, the story of why there was even an event called the Human Be-In is never asked. Four decades later, journalists write about this seminal occurrence as if it just spontaneously happened. The real reason why the complete story of the Be-In has never surfaced is one of timing – waiting for the act of Reversal to unfold. Now, in 2007, the situation has reversed. The 40th anniversary commemorations for the Summer of Love and the Human Be-In that initiated it are omnipresent. In the following narrative, Michael Bowen gives answers to the question of how his initiation in Tepoztlan, triggered his putting the Human Be-In together, and also recounts his experience of pure power in its primary creative form, having lived long enough to speak about it now.

Nothing is what it seems…everything is as it seems. It is a seeming only.’

The land of the Tepozteco is a small area protected on three sides by thousand foot cliffs. The end of the narrow valley of Tepoztlan is framed in the distance by the snow-capped mountain volcanoes of Popocatepetl and Ixtacihuatl. The volcanoes of course are alive, and occasionally rumble the land hundreds of miles around their base. Wisps of smoke always drift in the wind from the snow at their peaks. In Tepoztlan, life and the reality of ONE can never be denied. The truth is always there in a way which can never be escaped. The history of literature shows this reality, since there are many books written about this “only one of its kind” valley. Yet its secret is somehow still maintained. Today in 2007, well over a thousand photographs exist, along with film, recordings, and personal interviews of the many UFO manifestations. In the Spanish language, these unidentified flying objects are called and referred to as “Ovnis.” Still, the secret is kept a secret, and the truth about Tepoztlan, remains covered. This is because, as John Cooke said many years ago, “…truth is in the obvious.”
It is fair to say it is near impossible to find anyone in the valley of Tepoztlan, who has not had a personal experience in some way with one or more of these Ovnis, which are so prevalent. In 1963, there were literally thousands of anecdotal stories about Ovnis, but very little “tangible” evidence. The reason is simple; there was not much way, or machinery, to record these manifestations by the common people. The basic question must be raised: Why is there such a preponderance of sightings and contacts with Ovnis in Tepoztlan – so frequent, ubiquitous, and integral to the Tepoztecan way of life – yet others know or care very little about this unique place in the world? The answer is there is no secret at all; it is an open book for those who wish to comprehend. For millennia, before the arrival of the Aztec in the nearby valley of Mexico there were only human brains, hands, and writing materials to record this paranormal phenomenon. The indigenous wrote down their many experiences of the Ovnis in the valley of Tepoztlan for thousands of years. In the last sixty-year time span, recording devices have multiplied, miniaturized, and become more technologically advanced. The truth is that Tepoztlan has always been a unique place in the world to experience the Ovnis, in short and long recorded histories. This simply indicates a high degree of paranormal interactivity, of humans intermingling with intelligent beings that are other than human, repeatedly manifesting in Tepoztlan, Mexico.(1)
To receive a spiritual initiation in this exceptional place in the world takes on profound significance and adds value to the experience – an experience Michael now shares with us for the first time.

The initiation occurs in the garden, at the house of John Cooke, with John’s friend, the Mexican pianist Fausto Garcia Medeles present. The year is 1964, in January, and the night of the initiation, like all tropical nights, comes suddenly. I did not know that there was going to be an “initiation” that evening, I was simply relaxed and absorbing the unique beauty of the Tepoztlan evening. What was light became dark, as the night quickly arrived. It is the time of the full moon, which has not yet risen in Mexico’s ancient sky. But when it arises, the beautiful valley of Tepoztlan, will again be illumined in the strange light known only in the land of the Tepozteco.

I am standing on a leaf-covered ground with big Bill, my friend and companion since 1957. We are with the delicate Indian pianist, Fausto, a good long time friend and trusted psychic companion of John Starr Cooke. John had sent us all into the garden with Fausto simply saying, “Just go into the garden with Fausto. Something amazing will happen.” Thus, the three of us found ourselves together in John’s garden of indescribably beautiful tropical plants and jungle of unopened flower pods. The time is just past sunset and it is a pitch-black tropical night with only the stars above. John is nearby; I can see him at a short distance backlit in the lurid colors of tropical light bulbs behind the windows of the kitchen. For me this was comforting but Big Bill seemed nervous. After all, we had never met Fausto until that night. I thought to myself, “Fausto? This can’t be real. Faust as in the European literature, now turned into a little Indian wearing an expensive French suit in the middle of a Mexican jungle village?”

Through the jungle of flower trees, it looked like John was busily making something to eat for his guests at the tile-covered house. Standing in the pitch-black of the garden, Fausto informs Bill and I that we are waiting for the moon to begin its rise. I now notice the yellowish red moon in its gigantic full form just beginning to appear. It will soon begin its arc and enter the vast expanse of starlit sky where we, far below, are standing in a garden of unopened Tolahuache flowers.

The garden abounds with tropical flora of every form imaginable. The type of plant whose hanging flowers are above and besides us in the thousands, dominate the entire garden. Fausto indicates to me that when the moon is directly above us, these closed, hanging, soft pointed white petals of Tolahuache will slowly open into the form of a soft multihued trumpet in exact rhythm with the moon’s flooding light. Fausto declared that I will experience a bath, the vibrations of which will cleanse the trillions of sense organs throughout all the bodies that I posses. When the tropical garden’s air and atmosphere becomes permeated by this scent triggered by the light of the moon from the heavens, the full flowering plant will slowly move its petals open; as above, so below. Fausto motions with his hands indicating that the quieter we stand, the more our senses absorb the vision of the movement of the flower.

Seamlessly, there was no flying time left on this trip and we were there at the point of no return. The moon was directly above us and the flowers of the Tolahuache began to curl and open in their trumpet shape, one by one, and in groups. Fausto picked one of them and holding it in his hand, he said, “The ancient word for this food of the gods is Tolahuache”. Fausto then proceeded to eat one of the gigantic now opened petals. He said, “This is the sacred flower banquet of the Aztecs and one of the reasons their forbearers lived in full consciousness for hundreds of thousands of years”. The next one he handed to me, and I dutifully ate one of the petals, as did Big Bill. As the light of the moon increased overhead the scent of the opening plants put me into a great trance, deep enough to hear the sound of the music that each plant made as it opened its petals in the light of the moon. A grand symphony began inside my being.. Music, beyond sound, became my reality. As all the thousands of opening petals brought forth their inner essence with the silent sound known only to the initiates of history; I had entered a world, boundless, permanent, and with all probabilities that my actions throughout my lives had earned. Fausto turned his head and looked directly into the eyes of my good friend Big Bill. Fausto then said in heavily accented English, “This initiation is for Michael. But you can share its glories forever and have eternal conscious life if you remain his servant and his protector for the rest of your life as long as you are in this bodily form”. At that point, Fausto then said something else that we did not clearly understand.

As a result of the evening, if you can call it an evening, the next day Bill and I seemed to be desperate to understand what we had missed in what Fausto had said. That is the reason that the next day after not too much sleep when the experience was over we both journeyed to Mexico City to Fausto’s house. What we did not understand was something he said after the servant statement, which to us, already close friends for years, was impossibly shocking to even contemplate. All we could seem to get out of the next statement by Fausto was something about the age of 45 and something about Bill dying. Of course, out of respect when Fausto was speaking, we did not interrupt him and by that time, we were both now eating the petals. I had no food in my stomach for many hours before this event. The result was that my stomach was being packed in the same way you would pack a suitcase or a box with the petals of the highly psychoactive Tolahuache opened fully by the red orange glow of the moonlight in the garden of Tepoztlan. Bill’s nervousness was starting to interfere with the changes I was feeling in my body and brain. However, I said nothing to my friend as we both kept eating Tolahuache. Then something happened, an action that Bill had taken, that permeated my memory for the rest of my life right to this minute. My good friend Bill had walked away into the garden and I was now alone with Fausto.

“Big Bill” painting by Michael Bowen 1962
Wennesland Foundation Collection

Fausto and I, now without Bill present, seemed to pick, peel, and eat petal after petal until only the stalk was left. My stomach was beginning to become full; I had eaten so many of those exquisite blossoms. Fausto, I noticed, had turned gold, his eyes were blue like the brightest turquoise, and his white teeth emanated rays that seemed to wrap around the plants. He pointed straight up and like an X-ray I could see through his hand; all the bones and tendons were translucent and clearly outlined. I could see the blood moving in his hands and wrists. I looked up, and there was the moon, directly overhead just as he said it would be. I then looked straight down into the leafs we were standing on. I saw that the leafs had transformed into millions of coral snakes, all busily going about their business, exactly as if I was looking from a tall building at the traffic below. Looking back at Fausto I saw his face had changed and was continuing to change from a gold toothed mummy covered in jade to a baby to a woman and then to an armored insect. Fausto motioned for me to sit on the ground and relax and I did. I noticed many things at once happening as I began to sit and as I folded my legs to sit down. I was still in the air and slowly settled onto the ground with a kind of leave in the air like motion. The ground was warm , perhaps from the petals that had fallen, I really had no idea, but I could feel the earth beat under me and I watched Fausto fold his legs in the air , stay there for a while, and slowly float to the ground until we faced each other.

There were so many thousands of flowers that some of them nearly scraped the ground. Fausto and I continued to pick, peel, eat, and literally pack my stomach without any interruption. The body was simply performing a task. The moon’s light revealed every crevice and crack in the leaves, the trees, and the ground. Every rock and pebble was completely conscious. My brain had never seen anything with such precision before. The unquestionable experience of my eyes and the brain of this thing called the body, which was clearly a temporary possession, was an experience of absolute perfection. There was no question of the beginning of time or the end of time or life or consciousness or awareness; there was only One. At that point of realization, a phenomenon that has been reported by many people who have searched for knowledge through plants began to happen to me. Little people, tiny, like small animals were everywhere, around me, inside me, working at whatever it was they did, talking to me in a way I had never been talked to before. There was nothing to fear, time was not what it appeared; nor was size, nor was distance, nor was death, nor was birth. Only motion formed the skin of the truth of One, which operated all things seam-less-ly.

Then I began to laugh and Fausto laughed. For me, I spotted Groucho Marx among the little people playing a drum or something. I quickly lost sight of him and a cloud of fear appeared. Everywhere blood was dripping from the diaphanous form of the cloud or fog. Then, inside this fog was another group of people in a city, a little town, I recognized it as a scene from a film I had seen; The invasion of the Body Snatchers. I had seen this film in San Francisco in which flower pods infiltrated a fictional little American town. The flower pods looked like the closed pods of the Tolahuache plant that had just opened in the moonlight. But in the film, they were evil flower pods, floating as spores into the earth’s atmosphere from space. The six foot flower pods began to grow in the many gardens of the film’s little town and then attempted to take over earth by duplicating human beings. The human clones lacked emotion and their goal was to completely control and take over human civilization.

At this point, my body hurt suddenly everywhere; a great pain, physical and metal occurred. I thought to myself, “My God, this is a hallucination I am having and these images are being produced by my brain and are not real. Nothing here is real.” When I realized that nothing here is real, I also realized that that actually was the truth, nothing is real, it is all a seeming only, an emanation of One. While this is happening to myself, my Self is also fragmenting and slipping away like a broken pot into the cosmos and the pain changed to an ecstasy beyond any description I could try to give. All the while Fausto was laughing, but he has now become a multiplication. Fausto has now become not just the great musician from the Belles Artes in Mexico City, but an infinite chorus of duplicate Fausto’s all laughing and singing in some heavenly language. Memories become mixed with whatever is happening to me, as I seem to dissolve into infinity.

At that point, I saw the garden from about 30 feet up in the air. My body was still in the garden as was Fausto. And I finally saw Big Bill far away at the edge of the jungle of Tolahuache trees and he was looking over a stone wall down at the road below. The moon whose light illuminated all things and was still moving through the sky caught my entire attention. And the voices said in their millions ‘Quetzalcoatl has come.’ The moon was the eye of a great serpent head and what looked like clouds at first suddenly were feathers.I followed the cloud feathers in the sky all the while the little people danced in the trillions in the garden below. Again I looked up and stared at the moon, and the moon became an eye, and around the eye began to form feathers, and when the feathers began to form, the eye reacted as an eye would react to light. A pupil appeared and dilated from large to small and then large again; a black tunnel came into view in the center of the eye. If I wished, I knew I could enter this tunnel. The feathers began to grow and multiply and grow in the effervescent heavens above me. I saw the holy serpent, feathered, a manifestation of One, historically accurate, carved in the walls of temples I had seen. One was showing itself to me in the serpent form of Quetzalcoatl; I now knew why those temple carvings existed. The initiates of that land, in whose garden I was now standing eating the earth’s key that unlocked the doors of perception where time and space never existed portrayed this same vision on their temple walls. Quetzalcoatl, now coiled, covered with feathers, and pulsating with the symphony of the flowers covered the entire heaven above our garden. Here was were I belonged, filled with the food of the gods, in utter calmness; I entered into perfect synchronicity with the movement of One.

Quetzalcoatl in his form as the great plume serpent was totally revealed to me and was directly transmitting beyond the speed of light information that is still coming into my brain and is still useful after fifty years. The sky was the curled entirety of the great plumed serpent. The moon, his eye, did not change. It just kept transmitting to me. Moreover, from my sense of self in the air, I conveyed to the brain and the nervous system below sitting on the ground across from Fausto; some kind of circuit had happened. I was filling up more than any nervous system and body could possibly fill, even with the most minute form of packets of intelligence. Yet I was not tired, I was in more and more and more of a state of ecstasy. Many other things happened that simply cannot be described because there are so many. In that state of being I communicated with by forms of life in two-dimensional states, which appeared like slivers and in ten dimensional states which appeared like glass geodesic domes or floating diamonds.

Suddenly, I was afraid the body was dead and I would never get back to it. I immediately found myself back in my body and was breathing normally. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t hot, it was perfect. I looked at Fausto and he looked into my eyes and began to talk to me about the future. The first thing he said was that there was no future; there was only ONE, and then only that which could be called a probability on ones path. Here my memory is so full; it would take a book to unload what had been fully transferred to my brain and nervous system on any subject. But a little can be spoken of, if only to show as I believe Fausto did, that although the future has already happened, it can suddenly change. This is what is meant by the probability reservoir. For the initiate, some things are told only to them so that when they do occur in this future of probabilities, they will know that they have not gone mad out in the world populated by the mad. (Those who we are calling mad, we are doing so for convenience. The label “puppet” would serve as well as mad. The screaming madhouse of the mad become that way only if they are unable to “hear” a truthful answer). But, instead of madness and manipulation, the initiate when told the truth, even if the truth is about the future, will be able to maintain their calm and sanity and know that they are progressing on the correct path. Therefore, I was told that I would soon leave the garden, travel far, and cross a great ocean. As prophecies go, this is a rather standard one and yet it proved to be not only true but vital for my mission. Fausto told me that I would bump into the Queen of England. He showed me that death was just a transformation of consciousness, and he revealed to me that I could manifest whatever was needed along the road upon which I had now taken the first initiatory steps by trusting Fausto completely as he handed me that first flower bite of which I knew absolutely nothing. Later, I would realize that I had been carefully chosen, a thought that even now, as I say it or think it makes me feel as if I have somehow overstepped into the trap of ego. From the moment I ate the flower, every thing has manifested by my desire and ability to reach into the probability reservoir and manifest exactly as needed. I was also told that as part of this initiation I would experience something like the process of death, but not death of the body.

Besides all the practical metaphysical knowledge told to me by Fausto that exceptional evening, he also told me another thing that I had heard when I spoke with some of the Tepoztecan about the underworld. The underworld was a literal truth. For directly under us were caves and caverns with roads and paths known to special families for thousands of years. These caves extended all over the planet. If a person wished to, they could walk, or in some other way, transport themselves through inner Earth pathways from Tepoztlan to the Tibetan plateau. From those pathways, still many other underground pathways proceed completely around the world in any direction. They emerge at openings from the Antarctic to Australia to India to Europe or Africa or even Philadelphia.

The very next moment after Fausto told me about the truth of the underworld, I found myself instantaneously transported far away from earth, far from the solar system. I could see around me, as I traveled much faster than the speed of light, galaxies, seemingly endless and breathtakingly beautiful. In 1964 there was little if any photography or visual art that portrayed the various cosmic canvases today provided by modern astrophysics. I experienced being in a room that was both large and small. This seeming impossibility did not even concern me. What concerned me were the two blue eyes looking at me. The blue eyes remained the same although there was no size, great or small. The eyes emanated from a being with a neck, and a body, and robes like a judge, tapping a pencil on a desk. And then the eyes transformed and morphed one more time; a green, translucent, insect with fibril green appendages weaving and waving in all directions to a series of blocks making the figure. It seemed as if I was only able to notice those changes with some kind of extraordinary peripheral vision, but paradoxically there was no periphery. It was the eyes that were all important, not the changes, or the desk, or the people things. There were creatures, sitting on a giant multistoried dais, but only the eyes were meaningful. I thought it was John, but it was not John.

Then the voice happened and the voice said, “Look, you can bring Love to the loveless, or you can stay here in perfection. You have been brought here, a seeming vast distance from where you are now; but you must decide now.” I thought I was seeing simultaneously in one reality what I was seeing simultaneously in another reality. There was a crying woman, very human, very alone, superimposed and larger. This weeping woman became entangled with the eyes, the dais, and everything else that was giving me this message or whatever it was doing. Then, I experienced a moment of fear that a circuit had been blown. The vision changed from the crying woman to a crying small child, neither girl nor boy. That innocent being looked at me and said, “Help me, please help!”, and my heart broke open like a bursting lotus with seeds. At that exact moment, wherever I was, whatever had happened, I looked at those blue eyes and this very human face and said, “Yes, I’ll go back.” A feeling like a smile happened and I was back, sitting on the ground in front of Fausto, the moon now just setting and the sun beginning to rise. My body, or the body that I again inhabited, felt strange, not particularly pleasant as I had felt before, but there I was. I reached my fingers out, stretched them, and reached my torso.

I got up, Fausto got up, and he said to me in Spanish, lets go into the house and have a drink and salute the morning sun. And so, we did. The three of us were now sitting around the kitchen table. John Starr Cooke and those blue eyes; now just in a body, in a kitchen in Mexico, on a rock, floating in space-time called earth. Along with Fausto Garcia Medeles, the brilliant pianist, we poured from a bottle of tequila our drinks and began to toast the sun. In came Big Bill and toasted the sun with us. After a few toasts, I went over somewhere, called in bed with some of John’s dogs, and went to sleep.

When I woke up there was only Bill and I in the living room. He looked at me and anxiously said in his strange Kentucky Hills accent, “Michael, we’ve got to get to Fausto’s.” I didn’t realize Fausto had left John’s house when Bill said he was in Mexico City. Going to Mexico City was the last thing I wanted to do but perhaps the luckiest thing as well. Big Bill was concerned about the number 45 that Fausto talked about and something to do with his own death and being my servant and protector. When he mentioned this all to me, especially the part about being my servant, I realized I had to leave with Bill and drive to Mexico City to Fausto’s house. As Bill continued to wave Fausto’s address on a piece of paper, it was the servant aspect of what he kept talking about that was predominantly disturbing to me. In any case, I was just beginning to understand; I didn’t have to plan anything anymore, or if I did, it was just some kind of theatrical production. Everything that had happened to me was absolutely clear and it remains so today as I reflect on the experience. I cannot tell you everything that happened because there are no words yet in any language I know of. Now there are thousands of people all over the world who have had similar out of body experiences and contact with beings such as I did. They may also now want to talk about their own experiences. The world is now inter-connected with the internet and there you can find similar stories of similar beings that I experienced. If you have a desire to know, go talk to those people or go to their websites. As for me, I am here to help stop the crying and that is all I know.

In a few hours Big Bill and I with Fausto’s address in Mexico City in hand left Tepoztlan to find him and solve that mysterious question about the number 45 and Bill’s death should he decide not to be my servant, which to us seemed completely crazy. In fact, as we drove north to the city of Mexico, I asked Bill, what happened to him and told him that I saw him leaning over a wall. He said, “Michael, how could you have seen me, there were so many flowers and trees in the way?” I told him it was because I was out of my body, about thirty feet in the air and I described the scene to him exactly, including the white dirt or paint that was on top of his cowboy hat which I could clearly see from where I was.
He was driving but he turned and looked in the back seat to see his hat and there it was, a piece of oil paint had come off and dried on the top of his cowboy hat. He turned back to keep his eyes on the road to keep us alive and said just one thing, “Michael, we’ve got to find out what it was that Fausto told us about me. I know it’s a matter of life and death.” And I said to Bill, “Oh I don’t know, but don’t worry, we’ll find out.” Bill said one more thing, “Michael, I know I didn’t eat as many of those flowers as you did , but I think the whole thing was some kind of real bad insanity.”

Soon Bill and I were in Mexico City at Fausto’s beautiful house. He served us coffee and some kind of sweet dessert. After a few minutes, we tried to ask him about the questions that we did not understand. We asked him in both English and Spanish so that there would be no confusion in what we wanted to know. He answered us by saying, “The Vatican Library has owned a book on Mexican medicinal plants for several hundred years. This year they have translated it from Latin into Spanish. I suggest that you buy this book and read it. It will answer all your questions.” A few more words were exchanged, a few polite pleasantries, and thank yous. Fausto also mentioned to me something that has always been useful. He talked a little about his concerts at the Belles Artes. He said he found it was always important to telephone people personally and specifically invite them rather than let it all be done by the Belles Artes organization. I realized he was telling me this for my own benefit about being an artist. He knew I had to maintain my freedom and at the same time find a way to live. After that, we said our goodbyes and left. I never saw Fausto again.

Big Bill and I were hungry so we grabbed a cab and went to the Zona Rosa to our favorite Jewish restaurant and sat at our favorite table right next to the long glass window where you could watch the action on the street. We finished our lunch and just as we got to the door to step outside, an earthquake struck. Earthquakes are common in Mexico City but unfortunately, an electrical pole collapsed in front of us and fell on an Indian beggar electrocuting him immediately. The air was full of the smell of burning flesh and I had an eerie detached sense that this event had no more meaning than anything else. There was nothing we could do to help this man and so we continued walking down the street to find a cab and return to Tepoztlan.

Continuing walking along the sidewalk in Mexico City of the Zona Rosa with Big Bill, I had the odd sensation that the sidewalk was coming up from the ground to meet me. The next thing I knew, I was in and out of consciousness at the British American Hospital in Mexico City. When I finally came into fully awakened consciousness, I was told by Big Bill that I had been in that hospital for a month in a coma fed in both arms intravenously, antibiotics in one arm and food in another. For one month, my faithful friend big Bill took care of everything I needed. The doctors and the nurses kept me alive and helped me regain consciousness, but they never really determined what had happened to me. The doctors were puzzled and argued amongst themselves about my diagnosis. They treated me for typhoid but the symptoms did not fully agree with that particular diagnosis. Naturally, because of the year 1963 and the Mexicans attitude towards foreigners using any type of the indigenous people’s hallucinogenic plants, Big Bill could never mention the fact that I had ingested all those flowers the night before. We both would be immediately deported from Mexico, no matter what my condition was. Besides, just prior to our experience in the garden in Oaxaca state, at new Maria Sabina’s house in the mountains, a gringo had taken some psychedelic mushrooms from here and was finally arrested after a long chase through the village streets. The crazed white man was completely naked, had stolen someone’s turkey and was eating it alive, hopping on walls, and over people’s roofs. This was in all the papers the week I ended in the hospital.

My girlfriend, Wendy, was there when I came out of the coma after flying frantically from San Francisco to Mexico with her purse stuffed with money after Bill called her and told her about my condition. Throughout that month, Bill had maintained communication with John in Tepoztlan via postcards since there was no telephone in John’s isolated house. At the end of the thirty days, I awakened and became fully conscious but with two partially paralyzed arms. Bill, Wendy, and I returned to Tepoztlan and there with hours of gentle massage by John, Pablo, Wendy, and Bill, I gradually regained the reuse of my arms over a two-week period.

Tepoztlan was so beautiful and is still today a paradise. The idea of leaving it came as a shock when John, after the psychedelic circus I had just gone through and when my body was in good shape, told me, “Well, I guess you are off for New York now. I have a place for you there, a big brownstone mansion, until you find a suitable studio and living space you like”. I said in response, “Well, fine but I don’t have any way to get to New York”. John said, “Don’t worry, everything is taken care of.”

Armed with this new consciousness; I only had a few rudimentary questions for John. If John said I was going to New York, then I was going to New York. Therefore, I began to pack to travel to a city I had never been before on a journey arranged by John. While I was packing, Bill came into the room Wendy and I were sleeping in John’s house in Tepoztlan. Bill said to me, “Michael, Wendy, I’m not going with you.” I said to him, “Bill we’ve always done everything together for years. I don’t understand. Why aren’t you coming?” Bill said to me in a calm tone and with the best English his rudimentary Kentucky education could muster, “Michael, I can’t go with you because of the other night in the garden with Fausto. You may not remember this, but the reason we were in Mexico City after that night was because we decided to visit Fausto in order that I could better understand some of the things he told me about our future. What Fausto told me is just not something that I can easily do. And besides, I think that night in the garden with him was some kind of real bad insanity.” I looked at him very carefully, and decided to ask him just one question, “Bill, I saw you, I actually looked down on you and you were looking down on the road which is below the house. I don’t know what it was you were looking at but I just want to know why did you leave Fausto and me?” Bill answered me this way, still in a very calm and relaxed tone, “Michael, I felt the need to get away from you and Fausto and so I walked to the edge of the garden to the wall that looks down on the street and stayed there until just before dawn. I saw the people were coming out of their houses, and peasants were walking to work. I vowed I would never become like one of those people beaten down and broken and twisted by their hard work into shapes like cartoon zombies. As they moved through the light of dawn, I could see the marks of endless death on their skin and hair. I saw their endless deaths from endless lives of hard physical toil. I vowed there and then that I would do anything to escape a fate like that. No matter how much fun we’ve had together and believe me, I know we’ve had plenty of good times. I remember all the times coming to Mexico together by train and by air, and all of the fantastic parties at the lofts in San Francisco, parties at Sätties, all the great art with Michael McCracken and Monroe, the great times our families and all the rest. But I still cannot do what Fausto asked me to do and I refuse to become like those poor condemned souls I saw that morning. It was like I was looking at everyone on every road to work, here in Mexico, in San Francisco, in New York City, or anyplace. I want a life you might call luxury now, but at the very least, I can’t ever accept the idea of becoming a slave to someone’s idea of work. And that is why I am telling you that whatever it was we experienced, I have to see it as some kind of bad insanity.” I just looked at Bill and knew that he had been frightened to his core; more frightened than he normally was which was the most frightened person I knew. What ever made Bill think that Fausto’s direction would turn him into a Mexican peasant, I could not even imagine. Therefore, I said, “Well, I guess this is good bye for now old buddy.” He said, “Yes it is.” and with that quick good-bye, we shook hands and he walked away. It would be at least a year before I would see him again in New York.


“And Bowen is going on. He has no choice. The forces behind his symbols are relentless. He is a pawn as well as an artist and would be overtaken if he slowed. So, by observing his work we may glimpse our own energies. It is a breathtaking trip. Look, reflect, and see yourself.”

John Starr Cooke

Michael has commented about this quote from John by saying, “I am still a little shaken up by the word pawn, yet John could have dictated the letter to Rosalind Wall, or could she have done it herself? I know I will never know the answer to that but it doesn’t matter, because everything else he has told me has happened and keeps right on happening.”

‘The time of twinning shall give way to singleness of purpose.’


This same seeing of the self would eventually happen at the first Human Be-In. When the moment came for the Be-In to take place, the vibrating desire and anticipation of the masses of people who had wandered through the park to gather at the polo field, was like the humming of 20,000 bees stimulating their collective need for knowledge. The flower pods of probability were activated and the seeds spread all over the earth when those 20,000 gathered saw each “other” as the self for the first time. Spreading this consciousness, a natural result of such an experience, has brought about endless tiny confrontations, celebrations, remembrances, and acts which have kept the memory of the Human Be-In alive throughout generations, exactly as had been planned. The first Human Be-In was a sacred rite in which nothing particular happened, just people coming together with no other agenda than to just be. And yet it was a day that marked the end of something and the beginning of something else. There was clearly a renewal of the spirit of man; a new hope for humanity had finally emerged. It was life-giving and it was freeing—it was, in short, a creative process, and it moved people toward the hope of a better world. In the jet age of 1967, the young moved swiftly and spread a contagion of hope in a matter of a few days, weeks, and months throughout much of the world. The jet age has a potential for spreading hope and happiness, just as much as for spreading some dire disease around the world. In this exceptional instance, it spread hope. The Summer of Love manifested as a beacon of hope lighting the future of humanity, showing clearly the path needed in order to avoid a catastrophe.

Finally, in the year 2007, the time has come for the experience that manifested on that day – the experience and realization of Unity – to again manifest, to exhibit and naturally reveal itself once more, because of need. In America, that need is again manifesting to re-establish the Constitution and Bill of Rights. The message of One is to “be aware”, not beware, for there is nothing to fear. Bravery is moving forward with the knowledge that a critical mass of people are awakening to the awareness of One, the awareness of human unity, the awareness that violence, war, bigotry, and hatred can no longer be tolerated. There is no “other.” This fundamental truth of human evolution is exactly why the remembrance of the Human Be-In has been preserved for so long.

Now, the buzzing of the vibration of hope is not confined to 20,000 people, but exists all over the planet. Millions of people are ready to resist blind authority and the archaic status quo. Just as the moon awakened the flowers from their pods the night of the initiation, so the pod of probability of the self recognizing the self as One would stimulate human desire, need, and survival into its re-awakening . This is now happening. The seeds have spread and grown into mature flowers, and the petals are opening all over the earth. Many will take up this obligation; enough of them will manifest to create the needed great change The reversal has arrived, beginning with the people seeing themselves as ONE.

Michael Bowen’s story – an artist simply wanting to paint, giving up everything to do so, and fighting for his freedom to paint what he wanted – serves a larger purpose. His finding horrible abuse and cruelty directed at him, and his subsequent rage and anger leading him to the shelter of John Cooke in Mexico, set the stage for him to become the willing instrument of his mentor in his calm maturity in Mexico, where John and Fausto initiated Michael with the night of the Aztec Banquet. This brought Michael to the conclusion and the possibility of using Love as a method by which an entire society could be moved in a new direction. This epic story will inspire someone; even one person can make the difference in the survival or destruction of human civilization.


‘The answer lies not in attempts to slay the Beast, but to elevate it.
The One following the archer elevates.
Think not lightly on this saying; it will come to pass again.’



(1). Why this occurs, not even the great Montezuma himself knew. The Ovnis made appearances over Tenochtitlan, which was built on the same lakebed that modern day Mexico City now stands. In Montezuma’s time, it was populated with over a million people, filled with causeways, bridges, temples, and floating gardens growing the produce for the people of Tenochtitlan.
Tenochtitlan was the center of the Aztec civilization, and gathered astronomical detail from all over the empire, using the many small pyramids as astronomical observatories. Since there was absolutely no light pollution, Meso-American science had developed in these pyramids accurate polished holes, some longer than ten or fifteen feet, which would refract the light from known star positions. Over years of observation, usually from ten or more telescopic holes per pyramid, the slightest changes would be observed and recorded. These written recordings would be sent via messengers to the central temples, or scientific laboratories, in Tenochtitlan to be analyzed. The size of the empire was quite large and extended into what is now Guatemala and Belize. The Aztec civilization reached from both coast and the gulf, as well as extending north into what is today called California. The gathered observations were carefully recorded and sent to a central scientific organization at the capitol; they would come from literally thousands of astronomical observatories. This allowed the Aztec civilization to develop the most accurate scientific calendar known until modern times, well after the nineteenth century. To a small degree, an astrological and metaphysical system of prognostication somewhat akin to the current Western, or advanced Asian astrological systems, was also developed. But primarily these observations were used for pure science, the planting of crops and food production, as well as some now lost understanding of the human brain and nervous systems relationship to the sun. This science included an understanding of sun and moon cycles on all living things, including various plants and flora. The ingestion of plants for medical and psychological reasons was a highly developed science, superior to anything known in other ancient and modern civilizations. Some psychoactive plants were understood and used under careful guidance, since their psychedelic properties could be utilized for advanced consciousness development. These sciences survive in a crude form today among various indigenous Indian groups throughout Meso America. They are primarily used as a means of bringing about psychiatric health within the small tribal groups of what is left of a magnificent empire of science, destroyed by the ignorant religion brought by the Spanish Conquistadores. There are many examples of the human brain being used as an advance computer. What today are called idiot savants were sought throughout the empire, and brought to the capital. These savants would have a multitude of talents. Those with numerical talents would be used to do the calculations of star positions, and consequently calendrical time, as well as time in relation to star formations extending into the greatly distant past, and simultaneously into the greatly distant future. Because of the depredations by the ignorant European conquerors of what was essentially a high stone-age, peaceful people devoted to science, metaphysics, and art, any information that could be burned, was burned. This meant the great libraries of Mayan Codices were destroyed so thoroughly during the first hundred years of occupation that only one survives today in a museum in Dresden, Germany. There are copies made from the memories of some of the writers, which exist in museums as well. These copies were created at great peril to the life of a priest of the conquest named Sahugan.

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