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Some evenings I applauded a particularly gorgeous sunset and shouted, “Author! Author!” All of us Infidels have our own moments of piety and forget the real Identity of the artist who makes this world so weirdly lovely.
– Cosmic Trigger II

Cosmic Trigger II Audio Book Released!

Hilaritas Press presents Oliver Senton reading RAW!

Click here to buy the audio book at Amazon


Click here to buy the audio book at iTunes


Click here for more information and photos at Hilaritas Press

Dear friends,

In a discussion about the nature of trance channelers, RAW once gave me an earnest glance and said, "Don't channel me!" I've kept that promise, but I have to say that Oliver Senton may have defied the request in his channeling of RAW in the new Cosmic Trigger II Audio Book. Christina and I listen to Oliver reading Bob's words and we often get goose bumps. He's just that good.

We hope you all enjoy this production as much as we do! Many thanks to Simon Reeves at Framework Studios, Mark Sampson at Iron Man Records (both in the U.K.), and Steve "Fly" Pratt offering his expertise from a non-disclosed location in the wonderful city of Amsterdam. 

We've received enthusiastic reviews for Oliver's narration of the first Volume of Cosmic Trigger. We think fans will love his rendition of Volume Two!

Click here to listen to Chapter One
of Oliver's reading of Cosmic Trigger II.


And now, a special message from RAW's daughter, Christina . . .

Greetings and Love from Western Colorado!

And…welcome to the Unfurling of the Uncomfortable Unknown!

A favorite prayer of mine for over 30 years has been:

“I pray for the willingness to walk though that which is uncomfortable; for I am aware this is necessary for the process of growth itself.”

On the brink of a huge potentiality, our species, whether desired or not, is stepping into the unclear future being formed by many of the unseen consequences of our own decisions.

From global warming, deaths of ecosystems, rape of the planet, oppressive and violent regimes, to systemic inequality, lack of access to education, health care, and healthy food; It is, in part, MY silence, as a being perfectly capable of speaking up and taking action, that is partially responsible for the brutal death of George Floyd, at the hands of police in Minneapolis, MN. I see this now. My heart aches.

Tragic events all; only to be followed up by the scenarios of the past week – rioting, looting, police brutality, and more. Frightening . . . probably, for many.

However, I am not afraid; more, I am actually cautiously optimistic; with some underlying streaming rags of tattered hope dangling in the shadows of fear . . .

For your entertainment and additional insight into the human condition, here is a tale from my early years growing up in the House of RAW, that helped me become the person I am today.

I am deeply grateful to have been educated early on about some of the harsh realities of being human; of the rampant inequality that abounds, man’s inhumanity to man. I learned about people of color, I learned early on of other cultures. I learned there were other, just as valid ways to live, as how we did. I learned about poverty, and wealth, and how some people wanted to control others. I also learned about possibility, that there was a God, but I would need to seek out deeper understanding of this on my own. And, I learned about ecology, a word that my mother insisted that I learn, as she said this word would become very important in all of our futures, and I learned about fear. I was 6 years old.

Back then we were living kind of "Back to Nature" in Yellow Springs, Ohio, homesteading and running around buck naked in the warm sun (both kids and adults) on land owned by Antioch college as part of a "social experiment" that Mildred & John Loomis, 2 of the founders of the School of Living and others had dreamed up.

Bob & Arlen Wilson (my parents) had jumped right on board, and as a result, our family of 6 moved from New Jersey to Yellow Springs, Ohio in 1962.

(Looking back it is SO funny remembering some of the situations my totally urban-upbringing parents grappled with back then; things like crawly bugs, endless mud, pumping for water by hand, critters walking in, cleaning outhouses, killing and plucking chickens, etc.)

On the homestead our family lived in an old ramshackle 2-room house, where we took our baths in a big tin tub (see picture!) that would get pulled out and put on the floor in the kitchen, and filled from the hose attached to the kitchen sink), and used the outhouse out back for going to the bathroom. (imagine telling your 6 year-old daughter she needs to go poop in the outhouse while it was 19 degrees out and icy! Yep . . . we just cried so us kids ended up getting a chamber-pot (read pot with lid) we could use inside the big house to keep from freezing our little rear-ends off that winter . . .)

Replica of the Wilson Family’s galvanized tin bathtub, circa 1962-63. It got dragged into the kitchen, and was filled by attaching a hose to the hot water tap in the sink. Even RAW used it, kicking us kids out of the kitchen to give him some much deserved privacy!

I learned about racism that year when a local barber refused to cut “negro” hair. RAW and a few friends did a sit-in, ending up in jail for several hours, and this taught me about fear. What if they took our dad away? 

That November John F. Kennedy was shot in Dallas, followed shortly with my grandma dying on Christmas day. My parents were so sad. I have a hunch they felt somewhat helpless at that point, so we moved back to Manhattan where I finished up third grade in a NYC public school near the hotel we temporarily lived in. Me and this boy Albert, were the only white kids in a third-grade classroom filled with children of color, with skin tones ranging from light brown to skin so dark I marveled at it. It made me feel pale, washed out. I was scared walking in, but all these little kids simply accepted me matter-of-factly, were kind and even helpful with homework now and then, and I thought little of this experience until much, much later.

We moved to an apartment on West End Avenue near 86th Street with a new public school just down the block where I entered fourth grade and met my best friend, Susie. Susie sat at the desk next to me, was eight years old like me, and she was black. (Our classroom was mostly white due to our address now being on the West Side of Manhattan.) Her family lived 2 buildings away from me; although Susie had been born in New York, her parents were from some African country, both well-educated black medical doctors, who travelled between Africa and New York frequently. I had no idea they were unusual at the time; I just knew they were kind to me.

One day my mom arranged for me and Susie to meet the daughter of a friend of hers at the local movie theatre to attend a matinee showing. Susie and I walked over and stood outside the theatre waiting to meet our unknown third party. Shortly after we arrived, a car pulled up and a young white girl got out. Walking over to us with her mother now in tow, she gave us a once-over, a really definite look of disapproval. Then she stepped forward and spit in Susie’s face, stating “I can’t go in the movies with you; you’re colored!” Turning around, this girl and her mother walked off. Susie was crying and I was devastated. The whole world DID NOT MAKE SENSE. I grabbed her hand and we ran back up to my apartment and told my mom (Arlen) what had happened.

My mom cried, and hugging us both, sitting us down so she could help us understand. All I remember is she said something along the lines of how some people could only see the surface, and judged by it, but it was so important to understand that humans are so much more than just what is seen. And that the color of skin should not be how decisions are made. She was crying. My heart felt like it was broken, but I wasn’t sure why.

I have many, many more stories from growing up in a home aware of the rampant inequalities that surround us all, and how my parent’s commitment to increasing civil liberties caused us much disruption and hard times over the years. I grew up afraid of the FBI, mistrusted any knocks on our door. However – I would not trade my experiences for anything.

Today, although I am in mourning for the victims and recent the basically useless violence being perpetrated, I AM glad that finally, FINALLY, maybe – some of the skeletons in our collective closet CAN and will emerge into the light of awareness, allowing us an opportunity to take ownership and set in motion the changes that are necessary to dispel the systemic denial of how aspects of our every-day lives play into maintaining the cultural repression, oppression, and demoralization of good, loving, capable & hard-working people.

I saw many violent scenes like what is happening now, during the infamous Democratic Convention in Chicago, 1968. Streets filled with tear gas, rows of hundreds of police with batons and slavering, growling dogs, bashing unarmed protesters causing broken backs, arms, legs, and lives. I was 12. The Grown-ups said, maybe this will bring the needed change . . . But it did not.

Today it is a different time, with different tools; but still – we are burdened with many of the same problems. From my perspective, the big difference today from 1968 is this; Now we can EACH participate – through various social media, technology and the internet to record, share, and validate the crimes we see; to stand up and share that SOMETHING is inherently wrong; and make good use of the fact we have the ability to instantly communicate around the world.

We are not alone in this process; for from my perspective it is the sacred process of Love itself rising in response to the need of the Love calling clearly from within our fellow beings. It is being heard and experienced around the world. This Wind of Spirit, as I often call it, is blowing fiercely now and speaking to us all. Can you hear its call? I do.

There is tremendous possibility in our situation, but we must be like gardeners tending to a new sprout; tend it lovingly, nurture it. And in my experience, once tended well, this great Equalizer, Love, will simply show itself to you in the eyes of others who have also been touched; you will recognize it without any doubt whatsoever, as it is a part of you too.

Frame it however works best for you; Call it God, the Light of Christ, the Will of Allah, the Great Spirit, the Grace of Yahweh, the Tao, Supreme Brahma, Quan Yin, I do not think how one defines it matters one iota, except that it be in a language and form that you understand and can accept. Know this Love is stronger than we can comprehend, yet in the beginning it will be vulnerable, needing conscious protection to insure its fullness in service to a living, breathing world that yearns for freedom that great Love so freely offers.

Let us together, compelled deeply by the very real needs of our fellow beings; rise to this calling. Working to meet the needs of Beings who simply want what I want; to be seen & heard, to be safe, happy, respected for the value of my being, NOT THE COLOR OF MY SKIN, to feel like we have something of value to offer, that there is space for us to love and be loved; that we are each cherished members of a community.

We can do this.

In Love and Service, Christina

Stay tuned to this newsletter for the latest RAW news!

Thank you so much for your support,
        and lots of love and lasagna to you all!

            Rasa with Christina and Olga

Copyright © 2020 The Robert Anton Wilson Trust, All rights reserved.

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