2012: The Conference
A couple of weeks ago, a very good friend of mine mentioned that there was a 2012 conference happening in Hollywood, where scholars and researchers from different fields were supposed to grace the same stage and present their findings and their theories/thoughts of what's to come in just four years.
He had an extra ticket. He offered it to me for thirty bucks (yeah... seats were not cheap). After sleeping on the offer for a couple of days, I decided to take it.
I have to admit... although I don't take everything that is said to me at face value, I do find myself being open to listening to possibilities that might be beyond the scope of my current reality. And why not? In this vast universe of possibility and wisdom, I would think that coming across something impossible would be quite impossible. I found myself very intrigued about the event, and very interested in what information would be presented, by who, and for what purpose. I really did want to hear lectures from knowledgeable individuals about the many different ideas going around regarding what's to come in 2012.
After making the decision to go, I started to prep myself by reading through several articles and refreshing my memory of why 2012 is such an important year. I read about star and galaxy alignments with Earth, indigenous calendars and prophecies, etc. As I read, I began to wonder who exactly was going to present.
I'll admit, at this point, that there were a couple of things that concerned me about the event. My main concern was that, in my own research and readings about this important date (December 21, 2012), I always found it inevitable that the Mayans, Aztecs, and Incas would be mentioned. After all, the Mayan calendar ends on that particular date, Aztecs knew and wrote about that date, and Inca prophecies indicate a major shift around that same moment in our future. I wondered to myself whether or not there would be any Inca, Mayan, or Aztec descendants presenting at the conference.
That's when I decided to look at the roster and see who would be speaking.
After doing a little bit of online research, I found the following press release: 2012 Conference In Hollywood.
According to the "who" section in the press release, the conference would be hosted by Sacred Mysteries Productions and the RM Foundation. Invited to speak were "A collection of widely regarded scholars, thinkers, philosophers and futurists, including Dr.Alberto Villoldo (keynote speaker), Daniel Pinchbeck, Sharron Rose, Jay Weidner, Harijiwan Khalsa, John Major Jenkins."
After I googled all these people and looked through the Sacred Mysteries page, I thought to myself,
"Crap. I'm gonna be sitting in this audience full of weird New Age white people who came to see a bunch of other white people talk about their interpretations of indigenous practices, beliefs, and prophecies. For a whole fucking day."
It's not necessarily that I find it difficult to listen to white folks talk about other cultures or to hear about their travels to distant places in all impoverished corners of our planet... I simply would rather hear the information straight from the source. Who else can tell the prophecies of the Incas better than an Inca elder? Who else can tell of the Aztecs and explain the Aztec ways better than an Aztec? Who else can interpret and tell of the oral histories of Mayan people better than a Mayan? I didn't want to go to a conference where these indigenous cultures were to be presented and spoken about as though they no longer exist... because they STILL do.
After expressing my concerns to my friends, we came to the consensus that we would maintain an open mind about the event, and that we would attend with the hope that we'd be in a space where we would be able to discuss our ideas and research with other folks who seem to be fascinated about the same topic. And why not? We'd already paid thirty bucks a seat each, and the tickets were non-refundable.
We agreed that it wouldn't (couldn't) be too shabby.
===
We arrived at the Ricardo Montalban Theater early, a little after 8 in the morning. It was a misty overcast sunless morning. I'd been up and about since 6 am, and I was drowsy and hungry. The event was supposed to open their doors at 9 am, so we had to wait almost an hour to be granted admission by the several bouncer-looking dudes in suits standing in front of the doors, rockin' ear-pieces. It didn't matter to me; I broke out my sudoku puzzle book (word to Deisy), propped myself up against the wall, and began penning away (yeah... I use a pen when I solve my sudoku puzzles... and what!!).
As time went by, I'd occasionally look up to glance at the folks who were showing up and making line. After nearly thirty minutes of waiting, a couple hundred people had congregated outside of the theater. Almost no people of color. The overwhelming majority of these people were poshed-out nervous-looking white folks who permeated the air around the entrance of the theater with odors from their breakfasts: lattes and cigarettes.
With about fifteen minutes left before the official opening time, my friend informed me that she needed to use the restroom. We thought about asking the doormen if she could briefly go inside to relieve herself on an actual toilet, but she opted to scour the parking lot adjacent to the theater for a private spot. After a few minutes of looking around without any luck (the parking lot was now very busy with people coming in for the conference), she decided to ask the doormen if she could use the restroom.
Apparently, whatever was happening inside of the theater was top secret because they wouldn't let her in. With ten minutes left for opening time, they would not let her in despite the fact that she was standing before them, ticket in hand, knees buckling under the immense pressure of her expanded bladder. Instead, one of the men pointed south and said, "There's a coffee shop down a couple of blocks in that direction on Hollywood Blvd." (Fucking idiot didn't know that Hollywood Blvd. was NORTH of the theater, not south.)
As we walked on down the street in an effort to find this mystery coffee house, my friend said to me, "Maybe if I had huge tits, they would have let me in."
Later on, after we stepped inside of the theater, we saw that the restroom was literally about 15 feet from the entrance. You could peer inside the theater from the glass doors and see the hallway that leads into the women's restroom. I couldn't understand why they wouldn't let her in to simply pee. I mean... it was right there!
Whatever.
So after finding a Coffee Bean (the one right next to the House of Blues) with a restroom about two and a half blocks from the theater, we headed back with a couple of caffeinated drinks. There were now lots and lots of people everywhere. There were cameras flashing everywhere I looked, cameras rolling everywhere I turned, and people wanting to know what line they should stand in.
One of the doormen walked around, informing everyone that there were two lines: the "will call" line for people who ordered their tickets online, and a separate line for those who would be buying their tickets at the window at inflated prices (the remaining tickets were now going for over 50 bucks). Everyone got into their appropriate lines, and the waiting continued.
It was now past 9 am, and the doors still hadn't opened. After another 10 minutes of waiting, the same doorman who had told everyone to break up into two separate lines began announcing that there would only be ONE line after all. As people began to reshuffle themselves, those who had been in the front of the second line who now found themselves in the tail of another line began shouting at each other and at the doormen.
"What the hell? I was just in the front of the line! And now I'm in the back? What the fuck?"
"HEY!! You're cutting!! Go to the back of the line and wait just like everyone else!!"
"Are you serious?? Is this seriously happening?? What's going on here?? Why can't I just go inside?? Am I going to have to ask to speak to your supervisor?? Why do you have us moving around from line to line???"
I urge you all to keep the following concept in mind: assigned seating. That's right. The majority of the people shouting all sorts of angry words had already bought their tickets online... they already had a specific seat reserved for them. So... it didn't matter whether they were in the front or the back of the line... they were still going to get the same seat that they had chosen and paid for. And even though the doors opened a little later than expected, the first speaker wasn't going to start her presentation until 11 am. There was still plenty of time. And it's not like these people didn't know such details. They were up on big poster boards all over the place.
This conference wasn't supposed to be centered around hostility... it was supposed to be about possibility and positivity for our future. And before the conference even began, people were already shouting at each other, being rude to the workers who were simply trying to facilitate (and I want to stress the word "trying") the process of admission. It was then and there that I felt my energy level and enthusiasm drop several notches. I began to wonder what else I could've done with those thirty dollars I had dished out for this event, fantasizing about how comfortable and warm I would've been had I stayed in bed.
Once I had my ticket in hand, I was finally able to step over the threshold of the theater without no hunky stocky suit rushing to tackle me to the ground. I felt as though I had stepped into another dimension.
The very first scene I was confronted with were vendors selling all sorts of books (overpriced, I might add... but that's the deal with these conventions and conferences) around the topics of 2012, many of the books written by the presenters themselves. Directly in the middle of the lobby, there was a bar with a couple of white baristas preparing coconut drinks, caffeinated drinks, and selling bottled drinks. Everything overpriced. On the opposite side of the lobby from the book vendors were individuals selling 2012 "Shift Happens" t-shirts in different colors. As people came in through the doors behind me, I noticed how quickly they flocked around these vendors, pointing at these cheesy pricey shirts with so much enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes.
As it turned out, the seating area was divided into two sections. The floor seats (on the first floor, directly in front of the stage) were the expensive VIP seats. That's not where we would be sitting. We (my friends and I) had to walk on upstairs to the cheaper seats. When we walked into the theater's house, we were immediately confronted with an usher, who kindly directed us to our assigned seats. I set my stuff down, and decided to venture out to the lobby and see what else was going on.
Once I emerged from the restroom, I was confronted with a big sign that I hadn't seen earlier when stepping into the lobby for the first time. The sign informed guests that there were more vendors setting up shop upstairs. I walked upstairs, originally intending to return to my seat... but the curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to see what else was for sale.
Once I found myself in this lobby-sized space, I took a look around. All vendors were white, and all were either selling drinks or supposed "indigenous" souvenirs. There were "Mexican" necklaces and bracelets being sold, many carved out of jade. Feathered tiaras and hats that were supposed to emulate those worn by Aztecs. Native-American herbs to help cleanse the body. More books written about ancient indigenous cultures and their prophecies. As I walked around, sadly lamenting the hi-jacking of my people's culture and other cultures to be marketed by "progressive" outsiders, I came across a psychic who looked at me straight in the eye and asked if I wanted to have my palm read. I shook my head and decided that I had had enough. I went back to my seat, pulled out my puzzle book again, and waited for the presentations to begin.
The first person to present was Sharron Rose. Before she was introduced, the entire theater darkened and her film (2012: The Odyssey) began playing. In her film, she narrated her travels to Machu Picchu and other Inca ruins while the audience caught breathtaking shots of her walking around in these areas in her comfortable shoes and gardening hats, walking alongside indigenous folks... posing with indigenous women wearing their traditional attire. She spoke about how poor these people were "under our standards", and described how these people lived. Then, the film bombards the viewer with all sorts of interviews, each interviewee (all of whom were white people) discussing the potential catastrophic shift that's supposed to occur come 2012 in relation to the prophecies made by indigenous cultures in the Americas.
The film made me uncomfortable. I couldn't relate.
Halfway through the film, everything went black. The house lights came on, and Sharron Rose went up on stage and informed everyone (without a microphone, so we were barely able to hear her) that they were experiencing technical difficulties and that they were trying to get the film started again. After a few more minutes, she came back up on stage and informed everyone that they would not be able to finish playing the film because they couldn't figure out what was wrong with the projector. Everyone groaned. She then went on to try and save her own ass by improvising a "spiritual" and "inspirational" talk about energy, eventually leading everyone through a breathing exercise.
After she was done, the keynote speaker (Dr. Alberto Villodo) came on stage with an Inca elder. I sat up towards the edge of my seat. Maybe I was wrong about my judgments of the conference... maybe indigenous people of color were going to grace us with their wisdom about the topic matter.
The elder, dressed in his traditional attire (for the exception of his black slacks and running tennis shoes), first removed his hat and put it on the ground in front of him before playing a few meditative notes from his flute. He then began to speak in his native tongue (later we were informed that he had recited a prayer) without the help of a microphone. After he was done, Dr. Villodo (who had been standing off to the side) grabbed a microphone and began informing the audience that this elder had come from a land far away, from high up in the mountains, to help him spread a message of love. While he talked, the elder bent over to grab his hat, he puts it back on his head, and just stood there.
He continued to stand silently in the same spot for the next 45 minutes while Dr. Villodo spoke.
To me, it felt as though this Inca elder had become a prop for Dr. Villodo's presentation. As the presentation went on, members of the audience began to photograph them (even though cameras were supposedly not allowed inside of the theater). Flashes went off throughout the theater. I suppose that people couldn't help themselves; this individual was standing there, looking exotic, and folks probably reasoned that they would never see another Inca elder in the flesh ever again. So... FLASH!
Dr. Villodo's words were positive, for he spoke about his experiences, his perspectives, and he spoke about what the Inca had taught him in the twenty years that he lived among (or visited) them. He had some good stuff to say, but... I found the elder who was just standing there very distracting. I wanted to hear what HE had to say. I would have much preferred that he spoke while Dr. Villodo interpreted. In my opinion, that would've made a more engaging presentation.
After he was done, he had the Inca elder recite another prayer. Again, the elder removed his hat, put it on the floor before him, and began to recite a prayer (again without the help of a microphone). I took a look around, glancing at members of the audience. The woman sitting next to me was holding out her hand, palm towards the stage, the way that a Jesus freak does during mass or a Christian rock concert. Other people were doing the same thing. Awkward.
Before the third presenter was set to start, the audience was treated to a musical performance by the one and only High Priestess, accompanied by her harp. While she did a quick microphone check, a male backup of hers introduced her to the audience and explained that they write and perform "spiritual music". She then began plucking out a nice soft melody, serene and nice. Then... they began to sing. It was all downhill from there. Once she was done, I applauded along with the rest of the crowd... not because I had enjoyed it, but because I was happy that it was over.
My friend tapped me on my elbow and asked what I thought. I informed her that I didn't care very much about their music, performance, or message. I did, however, say to her that based on their outfits and demeanor, I was half-expecting them to start communicating with each other in elvish (from Lord of the Rings).
The next speaker (John Major Jenkins) was set to talk about the Mayan calendar and his research. But... I couldn't hang. The sound system of the place was periodically failing (one of the speakers kept coming on and off), making it quite difficult to listen to what he was saying. His presentation was also more informative than engaging, and he spoke all monotone. I fell asleep during his lecture. I did wake up just in time to see his slide show of the different places he had visited over time... photographs of himself posing next to pyramids, rocks, and of objects he'd seen in museums.
It was ok, though. He did remind everyone that, if they had any questions about the things that he had presented, they could purchase his books and read about the material themselves for a deeper understanding.
Plugs, plugs, plugs.
Then... lunch time.
===
When we returned from lunch, Harijiwan Khalsa was playing the gong, his back turned to the audience. Everyone was quiet, and after setting myself down and relaxing, the gong sound completely enveloped me. I'd never heard such a sound... very meditative... took me places. I'll admit... it was especially crazy for me because, before coming back into the theater, I had taken a couple of hits from a bowl.
After he was done with his piece, he stood up, approached the podium and began speaking. I found him to be quite the charismatic individual, spending the majority of his time properly setting up his jokes. But he was charming and very engaging. I liked him a lot. After speaking about the importance of the gong sound, yoga, and his thoughts about 2012, he led everyone in the room in a meditative exercise. He directed everyone in the proper way to sit, body positioning, breathing, and even directed everyone with the "Ohm" mantra. I found his presentation to be my favorite of the whole day.
In between presentations, I had to get up to use the restroom. As I walked through the dense crowd out in the lobby, I noticed a television reporter from FOX interviewing High Priestess. [Sigh] Leave it to the media to find the most over-the-top individual they can find to interview. I tried to shield my face from the camera as I walked by, briefly listening to some of the questions the reporter was posing to this woman:
"SooOo... [holds microphone to her High Priestess' face] tell us your real name, along with any other aliases you might have, and tell us why you're here."
Next was Jay Weidner, who got up on stage and announced that he hadn't prepared anything to say... that he was just going to wing it. He started with a slide show and began to speak about many things in a very enthusiastic tone. By then, I had stopped taking notes.... so I can't recall exactly what he presented. I do remember thinking that he had some good stuff to say, but none was impressionable enough for me that I can recall it. It was one of those cases of "in one ear, out the other".
The last presentation we saw was that of Daniel Pinchbeck, writer of the book 2012: The Return of Quetzalcoatl. I remember him being a quirky dude who talked about shamanism, Mayanism, hallucinogenic drugs, and crop circles. He spoke very fast, sounding nervous and monotone as he stood by the podium looking all awkward in the spotlight. After a while, people from the audience began shouting questions at him, and he took to answering some of them. The majority of the questions, however, were... awkward. At this point, he relaxed and began firing back with quick wit, answering questions with short blunt responses.
Audience member: "How do you feel about the use of hallucinogenic drugs to expand our minds?"
Daniel: "I feel pretty good about it."
A.M.: "How do you feel about people building their own organic communes, living off the grid?"
Daniel: "Go for it."
As more questions were posed, I began to realize that the tone of a lot of these questions was that of individuals who needed validation and guidance. They weren't asking introspective thoughtful questions. They were asking for a leader... for someone to tell them that what they believed in wasn't wrong... that they were on the right path.
After he got off stage, it was time for dinner break (the event was supposed to have gone on until 9pm, and it was a little past 6pm). But, before heading out, the audience was treated to a performance by Mojow & the Vibration Army, a team that consisted of a Shaggy (from Scooby Doo) looking guy, his perky wife, and his saxophone. They both wore matching outfits: black stretchy pants, black shoes, and black shirts with a huge golden "Peace" symbols on the front. Presented by the MC as a band whose music is jazz/hip-hop influenced, they came on stage with a small practice amp. As they were setting up, many audience members got up and left. My friends and I actually decided to sit and watch.
So... homedude starts beatboxin', looping his rhythm with looping pedals he had strapped to his belt, and the two of them began to rap and sing, dancing awkwardly around stage. It was too much. It was over the top. I remember sitting there, gawking at them with my mouth hanging wide open, thinking to myself, "Oh my GOD. Are they serious??"
They were.
By the time they were done with their third piece (a song about global warming), the majority of the audience had left. The few individuals left sitting were older white folks who had their hands up in the air, swaying them from side to side off tempo.
It was then that we decided that we had had enough. We got up and left.
===
Overall, I wouldn't say that I regretted going to this conference... it was a very interesting (and expensive) experience. The overall tone was a positive one, with each speaker presenting the notion of love, acceptance, and positivity so that in the case that something catastrophic does come to pass in 2012, we would have each other. I appreciated their messages and perspectives, but... I will admit that I left the conference feeling rather unfulfilled. A lot of the things that were mentioned or presented, I had already read about in length... and whatever I hadn't read about, they didn't really go into depth. There were many things that could have been potentially presented in conjunction with this 2012 phenomena, but weren't even brought up.
I expected so much more. For the amount of money that each person paid to attend this event, you would have thought that the sound would have been better, that the speakers would have been more engaging and organized, that the material being presented would've been intriguing and informative (as opposed to a 45 minute plug/synopsis/reason to encourage you to purchase their books/films)... that the overall conference would have had some sort of SUBSTANCE. But I feel that it didn't. It was not a conference friendly towards people of color, and the prices of the tickets made sure to deter working class folks from attending the event.
But... I did learn a lot.
The main thing that I learned is that... the next time there's a 2012 conference in town, I'll save my money and drive over to the library and check out a book or two instead.
And that's just how I feel, mannnnnnn!
*one*
Jesús
He had an extra ticket. He offered it to me for thirty bucks (yeah... seats were not cheap). After sleeping on the offer for a couple of days, I decided to take it.
I have to admit... although I don't take everything that is said to me at face value, I do find myself being open to listening to possibilities that might be beyond the scope of my current reality. And why not? In this vast universe of possibility and wisdom, I would think that coming across something impossible would be quite impossible. I found myself very intrigued about the event, and very interested in what information would be presented, by who, and for what purpose. I really did want to hear lectures from knowledgeable individuals about the many different ideas going around regarding what's to come in 2012.
After making the decision to go, I started to prep myself by reading through several articles and refreshing my memory of why 2012 is such an important year. I read about star and galaxy alignments with Earth, indigenous calendars and prophecies, etc. As I read, I began to wonder who exactly was going to present.
I'll admit, at this point, that there were a couple of things that concerned me about the event. My main concern was that, in my own research and readings about this important date (December 21, 2012), I always found it inevitable that the Mayans, Aztecs, and Incas would be mentioned. After all, the Mayan calendar ends on that particular date, Aztecs knew and wrote about that date, and Inca prophecies indicate a major shift around that same moment in our future. I wondered to myself whether or not there would be any Inca, Mayan, or Aztec descendants presenting at the conference.
That's when I decided to look at the roster and see who would be speaking.
After doing a little bit of online research, I found the following press release: 2012 Conference In Hollywood.
According to the "who" section in the press release, the conference would be hosted by Sacred Mysteries Productions and the RM Foundation. Invited to speak were "A collection of widely regarded scholars, thinkers, philosophers and futurists, including Dr.Alberto Villoldo (keynote speaker), Daniel Pinchbeck, Sharron Rose, Jay Weidner, Harijiwan Khalsa, John Major Jenkins."
After I googled all these people and looked through the Sacred Mysteries page, I thought to myself,
"Crap. I'm gonna be sitting in this audience full of weird New Age white people who came to see a bunch of other white people talk about their interpretations of indigenous practices, beliefs, and prophecies. For a whole fucking day."
It's not necessarily that I find it difficult to listen to white folks talk about other cultures or to hear about their travels to distant places in all impoverished corners of our planet... I simply would rather hear the information straight from the source. Who else can tell the prophecies of the Incas better than an Inca elder? Who else can tell of the Aztecs and explain the Aztec ways better than an Aztec? Who else can interpret and tell of the oral histories of Mayan people better than a Mayan? I didn't want to go to a conference where these indigenous cultures were to be presented and spoken about as though they no longer exist... because they STILL do.
After expressing my concerns to my friends, we came to the consensus that we would maintain an open mind about the event, and that we would attend with the hope that we'd be in a space where we would be able to discuss our ideas and research with other folks who seem to be fascinated about the same topic. And why not? We'd already paid thirty bucks a seat each, and the tickets were non-refundable.
We agreed that it wouldn't (couldn't) be too shabby.
===
We arrived at the Ricardo Montalban Theater early, a little after 8 in the morning. It was a misty overcast sunless morning. I'd been up and about since 6 am, and I was drowsy and hungry. The event was supposed to open their doors at 9 am, so we had to wait almost an hour to be granted admission by the several bouncer-looking dudes in suits standing in front of the doors, rockin' ear-pieces. It didn't matter to me; I broke out my sudoku puzzle book (word to Deisy), propped myself up against the wall, and began penning away (yeah... I use a pen when I solve my sudoku puzzles... and what!!).
As time went by, I'd occasionally look up to glance at the folks who were showing up and making line. After nearly thirty minutes of waiting, a couple hundred people had congregated outside of the theater. Almost no people of color. The overwhelming majority of these people were poshed-out nervous-looking white folks who permeated the air around the entrance of the theater with odors from their breakfasts: lattes and cigarettes.
With about fifteen minutes left before the official opening time, my friend informed me that she needed to use the restroom. We thought about asking the doormen if she could briefly go inside to relieve herself on an actual toilet, but she opted to scour the parking lot adjacent to the theater for a private spot. After a few minutes of looking around without any luck (the parking lot was now very busy with people coming in for the conference), she decided to ask the doormen if she could use the restroom.
Apparently, whatever was happening inside of the theater was top secret because they wouldn't let her in. With ten minutes left for opening time, they would not let her in despite the fact that she was standing before them, ticket in hand, knees buckling under the immense pressure of her expanded bladder. Instead, one of the men pointed south and said, "There's a coffee shop down a couple of blocks in that direction on Hollywood Blvd." (Fucking idiot didn't know that Hollywood Blvd. was NORTH of the theater, not south.)
As we walked on down the street in an effort to find this mystery coffee house, my friend said to me, "Maybe if I had huge tits, they would have let me in."
Later on, after we stepped inside of the theater, we saw that the restroom was literally about 15 feet from the entrance. You could peer inside the theater from the glass doors and see the hallway that leads into the women's restroom. I couldn't understand why they wouldn't let her in to simply pee. I mean... it was right there!
Whatever.
So after finding a Coffee Bean (the one right next to the House of Blues) with a restroom about two and a half blocks from the theater, we headed back with a couple of caffeinated drinks. There were now lots and lots of people everywhere. There were cameras flashing everywhere I looked, cameras rolling everywhere I turned, and people wanting to know what line they should stand in.
One of the doormen walked around, informing everyone that there were two lines: the "will call" line for people who ordered their tickets online, and a separate line for those who would be buying their tickets at the window at inflated prices (the remaining tickets were now going for over 50 bucks). Everyone got into their appropriate lines, and the waiting continued.
It was now past 9 am, and the doors still hadn't opened. After another 10 minutes of waiting, the same doorman who had told everyone to break up into two separate lines began announcing that there would only be ONE line after all. As people began to reshuffle themselves, those who had been in the front of the second line who now found themselves in the tail of another line began shouting at each other and at the doormen.
"What the hell? I was just in the front of the line! And now I'm in the back? What the fuck?"
"HEY!! You're cutting!! Go to the back of the line and wait just like everyone else!!"
"Are you serious?? Is this seriously happening?? What's going on here?? Why can't I just go inside?? Am I going to have to ask to speak to your supervisor?? Why do you have us moving around from line to line???"
I urge you all to keep the following concept in mind: assigned seating. That's right. The majority of the people shouting all sorts of angry words had already bought their tickets online... they already had a specific seat reserved for them. So... it didn't matter whether they were in the front or the back of the line... they were still going to get the same seat that they had chosen and paid for. And even though the doors opened a little later than expected, the first speaker wasn't going to start her presentation until 11 am. There was still plenty of time. And it's not like these people didn't know such details. They were up on big poster boards all over the place.
This conference wasn't supposed to be centered around hostility... it was supposed to be about possibility and positivity for our future. And before the conference even began, people were already shouting at each other, being rude to the workers who were simply trying to facilitate (and I want to stress the word "trying") the process of admission. It was then and there that I felt my energy level and enthusiasm drop several notches. I began to wonder what else I could've done with those thirty dollars I had dished out for this event, fantasizing about how comfortable and warm I would've been had I stayed in bed.
Once I had my ticket in hand, I was finally able to step over the threshold of the theater without no hunky stocky suit rushing to tackle me to the ground. I felt as though I had stepped into another dimension.
The very first scene I was confronted with were vendors selling all sorts of books (overpriced, I might add... but that's the deal with these conventions and conferences) around the topics of 2012, many of the books written by the presenters themselves. Directly in the middle of the lobby, there was a bar with a couple of white baristas preparing coconut drinks, caffeinated drinks, and selling bottled drinks. Everything overpriced. On the opposite side of the lobby from the book vendors were individuals selling 2012 "Shift Happens" t-shirts in different colors. As people came in through the doors behind me, I noticed how quickly they flocked around these vendors, pointing at these cheesy pricey shirts with so much enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes.
As it turned out, the seating area was divided into two sections. The floor seats (on the first floor, directly in front of the stage) were the expensive VIP seats. That's not where we would be sitting. We (my friends and I) had to walk on upstairs to the cheaper seats. When we walked into the theater's house, we were immediately confronted with an usher, who kindly directed us to our assigned seats. I set my stuff down, and decided to venture out to the lobby and see what else was going on.
Once I emerged from the restroom, I was confronted with a big sign that I hadn't seen earlier when stepping into the lobby for the first time. The sign informed guests that there were more vendors setting up shop upstairs. I walked upstairs, originally intending to return to my seat... but the curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to see what else was for sale.
Once I found myself in this lobby-sized space, I took a look around. All vendors were white, and all were either selling drinks or supposed "indigenous" souvenirs. There were "Mexican" necklaces and bracelets being sold, many carved out of jade. Feathered tiaras and hats that were supposed to emulate those worn by Aztecs. Native-American herbs to help cleanse the body. More books written about ancient indigenous cultures and their prophecies. As I walked around, sadly lamenting the hi-jacking of my people's culture and other cultures to be marketed by "progressive" outsiders, I came across a psychic who looked at me straight in the eye and asked if I wanted to have my palm read. I shook my head and decided that I had had enough. I went back to my seat, pulled out my puzzle book again, and waited for the presentations to begin.
The first person to present was Sharron Rose. Before she was introduced, the entire theater darkened and her film (2012: The Odyssey) began playing. In her film, she narrated her travels to Machu Picchu and other Inca ruins while the audience caught breathtaking shots of her walking around in these areas in her comfortable shoes and gardening hats, walking alongside indigenous folks... posing with indigenous women wearing their traditional attire. She spoke about how poor these people were "under our standards", and described how these people lived. Then, the film bombards the viewer with all sorts of interviews, each interviewee (all of whom were white people) discussing the potential catastrophic shift that's supposed to occur come 2012 in relation to the prophecies made by indigenous cultures in the Americas.
The film made me uncomfortable. I couldn't relate.
Halfway through the film, everything went black. The house lights came on, and Sharron Rose went up on stage and informed everyone (without a microphone, so we were barely able to hear her) that they were experiencing technical difficulties and that they were trying to get the film started again. After a few more minutes, she came back up on stage and informed everyone that they would not be able to finish playing the film because they couldn't figure out what was wrong with the projector. Everyone groaned. She then went on to try and save her own ass by improvising a "spiritual" and "inspirational" talk about energy, eventually leading everyone through a breathing exercise.
After she was done, the keynote speaker (Dr. Alberto Villodo) came on stage with an Inca elder. I sat up towards the edge of my seat. Maybe I was wrong about my judgments of the conference... maybe indigenous people of color were going to grace us with their wisdom about the topic matter.
The elder, dressed in his traditional attire (for the exception of his black slacks and running tennis shoes), first removed his hat and put it on the ground in front of him before playing a few meditative notes from his flute. He then began to speak in his native tongue (later we were informed that he had recited a prayer) without the help of a microphone. After he was done, Dr. Villodo (who had been standing off to the side) grabbed a microphone and began informing the audience that this elder had come from a land far away, from high up in the mountains, to help him spread a message of love. While he talked, the elder bent over to grab his hat, he puts it back on his head, and just stood there.
He continued to stand silently in the same spot for the next 45 minutes while Dr. Villodo spoke.
To me, it felt as though this Inca elder had become a prop for Dr. Villodo's presentation. As the presentation went on, members of the audience began to photograph them (even though cameras were supposedly not allowed inside of the theater). Flashes went off throughout the theater. I suppose that people couldn't help themselves; this individual was standing there, looking exotic, and folks probably reasoned that they would never see another Inca elder in the flesh ever again. So... FLASH!
Dr. Villodo's words were positive, for he spoke about his experiences, his perspectives, and he spoke about what the Inca had taught him in the twenty years that he lived among (or visited) them. He had some good stuff to say, but... I found the elder who was just standing there very distracting. I wanted to hear what HE had to say. I would have much preferred that he spoke while Dr. Villodo interpreted. In my opinion, that would've made a more engaging presentation.
After he was done, he had the Inca elder recite another prayer. Again, the elder removed his hat, put it on the floor before him, and began to recite a prayer (again without the help of a microphone). I took a look around, glancing at members of the audience. The woman sitting next to me was holding out her hand, palm towards the stage, the way that a Jesus freak does during mass or a Christian rock concert. Other people were doing the same thing. Awkward.
Before the third presenter was set to start, the audience was treated to a musical performance by the one and only High Priestess, accompanied by her harp. While she did a quick microphone check, a male backup of hers introduced her to the audience and explained that they write and perform "spiritual music". She then began plucking out a nice soft melody, serene and nice. Then... they began to sing. It was all downhill from there. Once she was done, I applauded along with the rest of the crowd... not because I had enjoyed it, but because I was happy that it was over.
My friend tapped me on my elbow and asked what I thought. I informed her that I didn't care very much about their music, performance, or message. I did, however, say to her that based on their outfits and demeanor, I was half-expecting them to start communicating with each other in elvish (from Lord of the Rings).
The next speaker (John Major Jenkins) was set to talk about the Mayan calendar and his research. But... I couldn't hang. The sound system of the place was periodically failing (one of the speakers kept coming on and off), making it quite difficult to listen to what he was saying. His presentation was also more informative than engaging, and he spoke all monotone. I fell asleep during his lecture. I did wake up just in time to see his slide show of the different places he had visited over time... photographs of himself posing next to pyramids, rocks, and of objects he'd seen in museums.
It was ok, though. He did remind everyone that, if they had any questions about the things that he had presented, they could purchase his books and read about the material themselves for a deeper understanding.
Plugs, plugs, plugs.
Then... lunch time.
===
When we returned from lunch, Harijiwan Khalsa was playing the gong, his back turned to the audience. Everyone was quiet, and after setting myself down and relaxing, the gong sound completely enveloped me. I'd never heard such a sound... very meditative... took me places. I'll admit... it was especially crazy for me because, before coming back into the theater, I had taken a couple of hits from a bowl.
After he was done with his piece, he stood up, approached the podium and began speaking. I found him to be quite the charismatic individual, spending the majority of his time properly setting up his jokes. But he was charming and very engaging. I liked him a lot. After speaking about the importance of the gong sound, yoga, and his thoughts about 2012, he led everyone in the room in a meditative exercise. He directed everyone in the proper way to sit, body positioning, breathing, and even directed everyone with the "Ohm" mantra. I found his presentation to be my favorite of the whole day.
In between presentations, I had to get up to use the restroom. As I walked through the dense crowd out in the lobby, I noticed a television reporter from FOX interviewing High Priestess. [Sigh] Leave it to the media to find the most over-the-top individual they can find to interview. I tried to shield my face from the camera as I walked by, briefly listening to some of the questions the reporter was posing to this woman:
"SooOo... [holds microphone to her High Priestess' face] tell us your real name, along with any other aliases you might have, and tell us why you're here."
Next was Jay Weidner, who got up on stage and announced that he hadn't prepared anything to say... that he was just going to wing it. He started with a slide show and began to speak about many things in a very enthusiastic tone. By then, I had stopped taking notes.... so I can't recall exactly what he presented. I do remember thinking that he had some good stuff to say, but none was impressionable enough for me that I can recall it. It was one of those cases of "in one ear, out the other".
The last presentation we saw was that of Daniel Pinchbeck, writer of the book 2012: The Return of Quetzalcoatl. I remember him being a quirky dude who talked about shamanism, Mayanism, hallucinogenic drugs, and crop circles. He spoke very fast, sounding nervous and monotone as he stood by the podium looking all awkward in the spotlight. After a while, people from the audience began shouting questions at him, and he took to answering some of them. The majority of the questions, however, were... awkward. At this point, he relaxed and began firing back with quick wit, answering questions with short blunt responses.
Audience member: "How do you feel about the use of hallucinogenic drugs to expand our minds?"
Daniel: "I feel pretty good about it."
A.M.: "How do you feel about people building their own organic communes, living off the grid?"
Daniel: "Go for it."
As more questions were posed, I began to realize that the tone of a lot of these questions was that of individuals who needed validation and guidance. They weren't asking introspective thoughtful questions. They were asking for a leader... for someone to tell them that what they believed in wasn't wrong... that they were on the right path.
After he got off stage, it was time for dinner break (the event was supposed to have gone on until 9pm, and it was a little past 6pm). But, before heading out, the audience was treated to a performance by Mojow & the Vibration Army, a team that consisted of a Shaggy (from Scooby Doo) looking guy, his perky wife, and his saxophone. They both wore matching outfits: black stretchy pants, black shoes, and black shirts with a huge golden "Peace" symbols on the front. Presented by the MC as a band whose music is jazz/hip-hop influenced, they came on stage with a small practice amp. As they were setting up, many audience members got up and left. My friends and I actually decided to sit and watch.
So... homedude starts beatboxin', looping his rhythm with looping pedals he had strapped to his belt, and the two of them began to rap and sing, dancing awkwardly around stage. It was too much. It was over the top. I remember sitting there, gawking at them with my mouth hanging wide open, thinking to myself, "Oh my GOD. Are they serious??"
They were.
By the time they were done with their third piece (a song about global warming), the majority of the audience had left. The few individuals left sitting were older white folks who had their hands up in the air, swaying them from side to side off tempo.
It was then that we decided that we had had enough. We got up and left.
===
Overall, I wouldn't say that I regretted going to this conference... it was a very interesting (and expensive) experience. The overall tone was a positive one, with each speaker presenting the notion of love, acceptance, and positivity so that in the case that something catastrophic does come to pass in 2012, we would have each other. I appreciated their messages and perspectives, but... I will admit that I left the conference feeling rather unfulfilled. A lot of the things that were mentioned or presented, I had already read about in length... and whatever I hadn't read about, they didn't really go into depth. There were many things that could have been potentially presented in conjunction with this 2012 phenomena, but weren't even brought up.
I expected so much more. For the amount of money that each person paid to attend this event, you would have thought that the sound would have been better, that the speakers would have been more engaging and organized, that the material being presented would've been intriguing and informative (as opposed to a 45 minute plug/synopsis/reason to encourage you to purchase their books/films)... that the overall conference would have had some sort of SUBSTANCE. But I feel that it didn't. It was not a conference friendly towards people of color, and the prices of the tickets made sure to deter working class folks from attending the event.
But... I did learn a lot.
The main thing that I learned is that... the next time there's a 2012 conference in town, I'll save my money and drive over to the library and check out a book or two instead.
And that's just how I feel, mannnnnnn!
*one*
Jesús