Coconut Yamaka


At the farmer’s market in Lihue sometimes we pause in front of a stall to talk-story. A man selling a book called, THE POWER OF COCONUTS used to be a farmer and I inquired within as they say, wanting to know more. He had lost his farm searching for his spiritual identify. Most people just assume that they were born into the one true religion. He was born a Jew but realized that that didn’t necessarily mean that he lucked out, somebody had to be born into the wrong religion.

To find out for himself he sped read every sacred text he could get his hands on. There were not enough hours not for a man, maybe a computer. This becoming a mystic was becoming a sacrifice and his farm suffered. Production and yield were at an all time low. He spent less time with his wife while she did the back breaking work and her back was sore. While he searched the internet, joined forums, tried magic, the iChing. Meditation and deprivation, even starvation, until one day a talking spirit came to him. It said, “You are a holy man and a sage and you need more time for your studies, red 22. Put everything on RED 22. EVERYTHING.”

He rushed to tell his wife that he’d made contact. We will be rich I won’t have to speed read we’ll be able to afford a chiropractor. Sell everything darling we’re going to Vegas. The Farmer and his wife obeyed their spirit guide and they sold the farm and everything else and drove to Vegas and put everything, even the gas money home on RED 22.

Inside the casino the spirit guide stayed close, encouraging. Repeating red 22, red 22. They put everything on red 22 and lost. The spirit who never deserted them said, “We’re fucked.”

This farmer now sells mostly on the internet, THE POWER OF COCONUTS, incense, and protection spells. I can send you a link. He strongly cautions initiates NOT to work alone. To employ him because it’s too easy to make contact with low spirits. Especially online. They are readily available. Ingratiating, very charming for a time, but it’s all self serving. This is how they feed, by cultivating confusion and chaos, milking the energies of expectant devotees seeking a source they might suckle.




Back in Nam when the rations didn’t come thru, you lived off your coconuts. Some locals here use the meat and wellspring to avoid all forms of hard labor. If you know how to drain the nut, which an adept can do with a dull knife, you have everything you need. Deodorant even soap or bathing are unnecessary for the healthy jungle eater, although one’s clothes suffer from a sour dough mildew. My new guru Spicoli set up a lawn chair outback in the woods and fashioned himself a tent with rope hung out a like hammock between two trees. Plastic trash bags he picked up at the dump drape over his lawn chair and sleeping bag. He enjoys the song of the Kauai O’o Bird and has abandoned his car here, suggesting it’s part of a work trade. The details of what we get never quite hammered out. His forté is barefoot with a chainsaw, tree trimming stoned, but what if he falls and self amputates on my property, then what?