Sometimes, for hatred to spread, all
it requires is a whisper on the shoulder of some confused or vulnerable soul. A seed of doubt planted that then festers into
something far darker. It takes a brave
heart to survive the unjust cruelties of this realm. The needless, meaningless hatred can seem
infinite sometimes. It's awful that we
should have to, but if we remain steadfast we can at least learn from such
conflict. We can learn about the ways of
the lost and fallen, how they manipulate the ordinary – so that we are further
armoured in our quest for liberation and light. I know this is frightening but I want you to
understand something, my friends. This
is indeed a quest in the most romantic, literary sense. All of us who fight for truth and justice; we
are warriors in a war of imagination. A
battle for love, compassion and inclusion. It isn't fought in the ivory towers of the
rich and powerful. It is championed
among the poor, the destitute, the unseen or unacknowledged. It’s shared by those from all walks of life
who genuinely fight for love. It is
gutter magic, hip-hop, poetry in motion, the most punk rock of all
pursuits. This care for the less fortunate and the eventual betterment of
all mankind; it means everything to me. A
way of life that I’m still struggling to fully embody. Inspiring genuine positive change is a task achieved
slowly through repetition and hard work. Through music, art, rallies and protests. Gestures of solidarity, numerous acts of
kindness and fairness. Unfortunately,
when someone becomes a true player in this war of imagination there are dark
spiritual forces that will notice you. I
call them wraiths, but you can give them any name you want. They will try to find all manner of ways to
bring you down. To sully your name and
rob you of your vitality. Resist this gas-lighting
at all costs, my friends. I beg you. The people need their champions. The music of the spheres is symphonic with the
bravery of every single soul who chooses to stand and give voice to the
voiceless. This music lives and
breathes. It has a pulse. And if these wraiths hate one form of art
above all others, it's music. Believe
me. The elders and wise ones have always known this. The transformational, healing power of sounds
in harmony. These wraiths though are nothing
more than cowards. Opportunists and flitting ghosts. They don't need a reason. Only an advantage to exploit, and a place to
hide. These entities and shades wander among the living and the dead. They revel in wreaking havoc, sowing seeds of
confusion and hate. Preying on
insecurities and doubts. These hideous
phantoms have their disciples in the physical world, it's true. Orchestration and provocation. But often they
needn't even go that far. Sometimes all
it takes is a shadowed whisper on the shoulder of some confused and vulnerable
soul. A spark, a lit match – and
suddenly a dark fire is raging out of control, taking on a life of its own. You begin to recognise these things in the
streets, in the gutters. Happening all
around. The discrete poisoning of wells,
the co-opting of causes. The rampant militarism and corporatism disguised as
well-meaning policy. But Kashi was born
in these streets. I've been walking this
city for a thousand years. I know who my
friends are, and I know whose hearts are truly wicked. My friends, I want you to know that I love
you. Each and every one of you. And I'm grateful for the work you do. And I also want you to know that you're part
of something bigger and more beautiful than I could ever convey here. Rest now, and gather your spirit. Surround yourselves with loved ones and
remember who you really are. Don’t let literal
or psychic attacks break you. You are
far stronger and more cherished than you realize. I’m so sorry that good intentions can come at
such a frightening cost sometimes, that it can attract such enemies, but it is
only proof of the power of love – proof of its potential reach. Our friends know us, our beloved ones know
us, and they know the legacy of light that we are trying to offer to those who
need it most.
