Michael: This fragment was a fifth-level mature scholar – 2nd life thereat. Roy was in the perseveration mode with a goal of growth. Roy was a realist who was in the intellectual part of moving centre.
Roy’s primary chief feature was arrogance and his secondary was impatience.
Roy’s body type was Mercury/Lunar.
The fragment Roy is second-cast in the fifth cadence; the fragment is in the first greater cadence. Roy is a member of entity six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – here we have another entity mate of both Arvin’s and Merlin’s.
Roy’s essence twin is a scholar and the task companion is a sage.
Roy’s three primary needs were: expression, adventure and security.
There are 9 past-life associations between Roy and Arvin and 14 between him and Merlin.
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I have always exquisitely found centre for listening to this recording. Time seems to drift away and ideas flow with greater ease… indeed, how sweet it is to be richly inspired by an entity mate.
“I’m in service. I am here to touch people and make them feel better through music.” – Roy Hargrove.
Well if that is not validation of being a member of an entity six of a cadre one, I don’t know what it.
I always good for long days after a concert of his. A beautiful human being.
Sweet and blissful dreams be yours dear ennobled entity mate.
Yesterday, I caught Don Cheadle’s, Miles Ahead, with an old friend from Montréal. We both thoroughly loved the film. The concert at the end of the film was phenomenal and it was good to see Esperanza Spalding joining Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter and Robert Glasper and Don Cheadle for, What’s Wrong with That.
More than that, I lost a tear when seeing this at the end of the film: May 26, 1926 – . Yes, indeed, Miles’ genius has no ending.
Davis III, Miles Dewey 26/5/26 <0> 28/9/91 Tiger 8.4.4 = 7
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I am so looking forward to the opening of Don Cheadle’s Miles Ahead this week. i think of any other Jazz artist, Miles is the only one whose every album, on listening to it, I conclude is a favourite. This creative genius just oozed authenticity. Of course, a major part of his outréness and originality had to do with his having been an actual old soul.
I have always been partial to him as he was briefly married to Cicely Tyson who was a maternal first cousin of my late mother’s who in her youth did play the cornet. Of course, Cicely Tyson, who is still going strong and currently starring on Broadway, is an entity mate of Miles Davis’.
My creatively gifted mother whose songs are published in the hymnal of the now Wesleyan Church was a remarkable woman who was pure intellect and a source of fierce pride. She whose paternal grandparents were Sephardi from the small Brazilian community which settled in Nevis. Indeed, she who is now reincarnated in London, England, male and first-born and about whom I have dreamt – East Indian/Caucasian heritage in this lifetime and currently aged 13 years old.
Sadly, none of my dream encounters with Miles Davis were ever audiocassette-recorded as they were never had during the decade when I did so – 1989 to 1998. Each of those dream encounters did, though, validate his agedness of spirit and he seemed every bit an old soul during astral plane encounters.
In anticipation of this long overdue film – imagine that, the paucity of Jazz biopics when so clearly Jazz is rooted in Klezmer! More than that, on to the matter of saluting a true original, a true creative genius and a giant of Black high art.
*Sadly, I have spent the last couple of weeks trying to track down the title of the Miles Davis painting herein featured; alas, to no avail have I managed to have discovered its title et al.
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Birth of the Cool, 1957.
Kind of Blue 1959.
– This is the music (Kind of Blue) I am mostly likely to listen to, after having audiocassette-recorded the dreams, on awaking from a flying dream. This music is about finding centre whilst simultaneously remaining aloft in the realms of the flying dream. As West Indians would say, it’s sweet!
Happy Black History Month! Who cares about the Oscars? The most important point of power in all situations is being able to see through to the structure of anything. Those who cannot manipulate real time events to show themselves, chosen, entitled, special, ‘genius’ and all that nonsense will ever cheat, lie and steal. Please do tell in in what other universe would there be a tie between Katherine Hepburn and Barbra Streisand for Best Actress but in this one where the most venal racists run the show and everyone looks like another variation on Jackie ‘blasted god-fugly’ Stallone.
Go on, give each other awards; what does it finally matter when you know nothing of being cool and sophisticated as in those whom you so revile, vilify, loathe, incite others to hate – all the while crying of being victimised. You know… those marvellous people whose spirit you will never crush, despite the attempts of Orly Taitz and the returned de Torquemada – now no less fugly got up in reincarnational drag – Jackson, Woods and Cosby and you just know that the swine has only just begun. They, those marvellous people, who like dreams – wherein only truth and beauty exist – are the ones to have invented Jazz and whose spirit will never be eclipsed by your god-fugly ugliness. Yes, them… they who don’t need awards to show how special, chosen and what marvellous geniuses one so over-compensatorily is not!
Alas, for the truly marvellous people every day of the year is awards season; despite your alarming ugliness, you have positively no power over any of us when we set feet into our homes. There, despite your lunacy, we affirm our creaturehood, our beauty or phenomenalness and we turn on some Jazz which can speak to no one else as it speaks to every last one of us – not you! So while you infest the culture, like some fetid mould – which thankfully are never lasting – just know that the ugliness of your lies can in no way invalidate the beauty of Miles Davis, Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Betty Carter, Lena Horne, Anita Baker, Sarah Vaughan, Diana Ross, Natalie Cole… and countless others.
So go on and speciously raise your rear right leg and take to the airwaves claiming, “Jazz has its roots in Klezmer!” Just remember this: forgiveness is the price a damn fool would gladly pay to forget anything. Clearly, you do not know Black people and come November, we won’t collectively have taken leave of senses and do as you would wish… not after Orly… Who cares about the Oscar vote? Our vote is the one that truly matters… Remember eight years ago… “I’m Voting For Her!” We do not forget… where is that displaced haus frau anyway? You know, the one who was partout on TV demanding that the unchosen sheeple, “Vote For Hillary!” followed by that demented laugh of hers… perhaps, she is too distracted these days trying to recall with which hand she ate last night.
Truly empowered are they who always say what the fuck they mean and never leave any doubt as to their resolve.
Incidentally, all the Jazz artists mentioned in this blog, I have to date done their Michael Overleaves. Some are listed in the Michael Overleaves Appendix page those which aren’t were only recently channelled; they are… Natalie Cole, Anita Baker and Lena Horne. Not in the least surprised was I to have found that Natalie Cole is an entity mate. Every time I hear her voice, I am instantaneously catapulted to a groove that I can only call a soul high… So then here are her Michael Overleaves with one of my favourite video performances of hers. Every idiosyncrasy of hers resonates to the very core of my being… God she could represent!
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*Richard is New York City academician whom Merlin met during the final couple of years of his life. This man had the most uncanny resemblance energetically to Merlin and I only met him a week after Merlin’s passing as he ventured to Toronto; he had previously planned to, to bid Merlin farewell. Alas, unlike Joe Morton who flew in from Los Angeles for 24 hours to be with Merlin, Richard had been too late but came nonetheless; the gesture was truly noble of spirit and was greatly appreciated.
This evening – Wednesday, February 11, 2015, I went to the hallowed temple, Massey Hall and got my soul good and besotted on the masterful soulfulness that is the Jazz At Lincoln Center Orchestra led by Wynton Marsalis. Boy, did I come undone when the Cuban balladeer not only danced but scatted like it was nobody’s business. Now if this concert does not prove the leap off point for some truly poetic dreams then lord help me…
Dreams are the poetic expression of the soul. 