The Autobiography of Julian Lee
COPYRIGHT 2009 JULIAN LEE
Intro ╬ At The Start ╬ Some Early Experiences ╬ A 'Multiculturalist' & Anti-Racist By Age 20 ╬ My 3rd Female Spiritual Mentor Ruth Moffett -- I Join The Baha'i Faith To Try To Assuage Engineered White Guilt & Solve False Religious Controversies ╬ Grandfather Lee ╬ My Mother ╬ My Dad ╬ My Brothers & Sisters ╬ I Start To Run Away From Home At Age Four ╬ My Mother Dumps Me In A Strange Place, Family Life Ends ╬ Sunday & Going To Church ╬ My First Friend ╬ Wasted Years In the Grade School Warehouse ╬ The Sixties ╬ Mrs. Christians ╬ Sister Eleanor Therese ╬ Coming Of Age: Woman & Sexuality ╬ We Get a TV, Family Life Dies ╬ Our Big Green Piano ╬ The Great Matriarchal Swindle ╬ Trying To Be Cool -- Obsessions of Fatherless Boys ╬ I Start Hating The Automobile ╬ Wasted Years In The High School Warehouse ╬ At 17 A Beautiful Scottish Nymphomaniac Tries To Seduce Me -- She is Later Drowned in a Vase by Coral Eugene Watts ╬ Getting Lucky: I Start Visiting Our Quiet, Empty Church Around the Corner ╬ Rock Band Stupidity, Offending Crowds, Damaging My Hearing ╬ Seeking -- I Wander Homeless ╬ Chad & Emma ╬ I Get Married and Become A Father ╬ The Baha'i Years ╬ Real Family: Your Children Are The Best Part Of Life ╬ I Discover Astrology and Am Good At It ╬ I Discover Meditation ╬ I Become Disillusioned With The Baha'i Faith ╬ Genesis: I Realize The Significance Of Continence ╬ I Hitch Hike 40 Miles Daily To Work In Alaska ╬ Three Unethical Women Try To Seduce Me While I Am Married (My Poor Wife!) -- I Resist Them All, Mostly ╬ My Kids Need Better Charts -- I Search For Lost Community For my Kids & Family ╬ I Get Shaktipat & Yogic Kriyas ╬ I Hear Aum ╬ I am Given The Philosopher's Stone ╬ Devastation: I Lose My Family ╬ I Become a Man of Sorrows ╬ Solving the problem of karma: "Hang Out With The Chartless -- You Become Chartless" ╬ I Become Santa Claus ╬ I Teach Brahmacharya Though I Don't Want To ╬ California Days, Foothill Road, I Start To Get My Family Back ╬ I Meet Karunamayi ╬ I Experience Samadhi & Out-of-Body States ╬ I Become Racially Conscious ╬ I Become Aware Of The Jews ╬ I Put Political & Racial Lyrics Into My Songs ╬ A Seeker Comes To Me -- I Form a Proto-Brotherhood ╬ Dirtytown, Oregon & The Uncoolest Cool ╬ I am Stalked by the Jewish "Antifa" for Speaking Out ╬ The Upanishads ╬ I Flee From Aum But Am Comforted by Divine Smells ╬ I Return to Simple Living & Wandering ╬ Helping Street People ╬ A New Astrology: My Astrological Discoveries Summarized ╬ Going To India Within
I was born Curtis Lee Mickunas on March 23, 1957 at 9:57 am in Des Moines, Iowa, perhaps give or take a couple of minutes as little has exactitude in this world.
Mickunas is a Lithuanian name, and a fellow Lithuanian once told me it means, roughly, "Big fellow from yonder bridge." I was named Lee after my grandfather Amos Lee, who I admire greatly. I came from a broken home but was blessed to have a father with a devout attitude about the Catholic Church who prevailed on my mother to raise us Catholic, and placed us two blocks from the most beautiful church he could find. Although religion was only sketchily delivered to me, I imbibed necessary essences -- even just from the reverence-inspiring interior of St. Augustine's Church building itself. What I imbibed in Catholicism, and around blessed nuns, gave me little stones to walk on that later became big walking stones, along a journey that finally satisfied me well.
A Seeker's Life
I still remember that voice. I loved music, and singing, and that one voice has always been a benchmark in my head, a voice to strive for in my own singing. Then I hitched on. May God protect you. But also a debt of gratitude to God for not letting them stop too often, and leaving me in beautiful lonely, and pure places, places that still live in me today. I've slept many times in culverts and stood in the rain and had to scrounge for food and got used to hunger. It helped me see the world clearly. I highly recommend it, by the way. If you were to come to my house, I would make you do the same.
I grew up both loved and neglected, and learned to be my own person. I was a very ambitious musician and aspiring songwriter by 16. That fame quest got turned on its head by my own logic and I became deeply interested in religion. I married and had four children, and became an astrologer because of deep fascination with the coherence -- soon apparent to me -- that is found in astrology. Then I was strong in it. I uncovered a more accurate and useful form of astrology and it became my profession. My specialty was predicting how life would change in different locations, in great detail. Basically, I discovered that a "relocated natal chart" exists which is grosser and more accurate for everyday use, while other charts exist in us in subtle layers. I discovered we can actually change our astrological charts in truth. My astrology became more accurate and detailed than that which is conventionally practiced in the astrological establishment. I was delighted by this knowledge, which built up in me as an observer/ analyst type, and which seemed to arise as if by instinct. I contradicted the dogmas of established astrology, so I was considered an upsetter or lone wolf among astrologers, an infant terrible. I was fine with that. Astrologers always bored me anyway. When one reduces himself down to "technical factors" and forgets the magic of the divine and of grace, he becomes a boring person, not-to-mention annoying. I always kept aware of the open areas and blank areas of knowledge, the "still mysteries," never biting down to hard on "I know it all." Because knowledge, after all, is endless. As endless as grace.
That open church, alone, makes my life boil down to a Lucky Life. How I thank father and Father! There I'd sit in the dim, soaking up the sacred atmosphere, my back straight because that was the yogic attitude transmitted to me in church, thinking about God, and trying within to offer Him my problems.
Krsna says in the Bhagavad-Gita that there are "three types of men who seek me." One of those is the "man of sorrows." It was only after sorrows and confusion that I turned to God. And it was in those pews, alone and breathing the breath of centuries of saints, that I finally became a God seeker. The soothing and sacred atmosphere of the church itself was feeding me within. As the roiling and suffering ego inevitably awoke, that quiet and empty church, decorated and built for God alone, was where I first came into spiritual comfort. The purpose of religion is, indeed, comfort and joy.
Later, seeking stout enough material about God to give final confirmation and rest to a questioning mind, I arrived at the Upanishads and Yoga, literature directly addressing the search for God within.
And I met personages on the way who were my great good fortune, unknown at that time. Two of these were my parents.
In a real way it was my mother who cut a clear path, in the growing cultural wilds, that turned me Godward just by giving me clear direction on where I should never go. In my teens drugs, drink, and smokes were becoming rife among my peers. This was the way they escaped into a kind of comfort in the face of their own pains. But my mother had done two things: Made me care about how she felt by being there for me and loving me, and 2) Advised me repeatedly about the stupidity of drugs, drink, and smokes, telling me it would break her heart if I ever did these. I thus determined in my very young mind not to go that way despite all inducements, even with a person right in my own family who offered me those vices. (Once regaling me on the wonders of smoking hash, with pipe and chunk at the ready in his dark and private lair which was a kind of opium den for many young visitors to our back door during the clueless-single-mother-years.) The smell of marijuana and hashish in many homes and establishments was, in fact, a feature of my teens. By the teens many of the popular kids were becoming drunkards and having bacchanals called "keggers," more covertly in the Catholic schools, more shamelessly in the public high schools Merrill and Roosevelt. But I wasn't going to break her heart, or become a wreck with a damaged brain or body, as mother so clearly put it. Neither would I drink, though my respected father did and the refrigerator always contained cans of Budweiser. This mother-direction gave me nowhere to turn for solace, later, but God and my inner self. I was unentangled by those things, and able to concentrate within with fewer addictions or distractions. To my great misfortune neither my mother or my father warned me about the worse pollution and damage that comes from lust, sex, and the male period. (And it was really my father's duty.) Not even the Catholic Church -- woe! -- gave any clear instruction! But for the drugs teaching alone I owe to my mother much that is good in my life. But I owe her as much for providing me with a noble and religious father.
Along with my interest in questions of God, religion, and spirituality I had a concern for society and the moral order that ensures prosperity for the many. Later in life I set out to do a bit for helping the young men, and women, caught in this dark porn age, and lead them to the higher ground of real religious life, which does eternally require an effort at chastity. Chastity combined with devotion are the root of religious knowledge and the real spiritual blood of beneficial religion. This knowledge has now been lost in the churches, thus they decline.
A subtext of my mind, from my teens, was the observation that the technology of White European man never solves the problem it was intended to solve: The elimination of duality, or "problems." Instead it only creates more complex and insidious forms of duality, and more complex problems. Along with the many splendid virtues of the White Europeans, my race that is so much under attack by the Jews, this is their great fault. If they learn the wisdom of their own Aryan sages and their own Aryan yoga, they will learn that duality and problems are destroyed by God and God-search alone, and not by rearranging inert matter. The White Europeans, the masters of technology, must learn true wisdom relative to technology and invention, and return to their moral and mystical, and nature-loving roots.
Mysticism is knowledge of God within, and the techniques and approaches one takes when seeking same. God is not best sought in the sky, in the outer stars, or in things. When a thing is used in religious devotion, such as outer statues or other focci, their purpose is to direct the mind, which then cultivates the inner states, which then dig the inner paths to God-bliss. God is within, and so is the Kingdom of Heaven. This is the knowledge of the Christian saints. Only by retaining the knowledge of the search for his inner divine stars -- from where outer gross matter projects in illusory form -- will White European man retain any mastery over outer stars.
I sought, then, to revivify Christian mystical knowledge and practice to try to help save the great and priceless heritage that is Christianity and our churches, for the sake of the peoples; for the sake of men, women, and children and their happiness. Because all of the great yoga -- the techniques of the God-seeking mystic -- is exists in the Christian faith, just little understood consciously.Finally indeed I came to the realization of how lucky I was born a Christian Catholic, how great is this spiritual heritage of the White Europeans, and how full of yoga it is. The little stones of my inner spiritual path were indeed set in me by the Catholic Church: Stones of just a little faith, just a little reverence, and the tiniest bit of devotion. It was only this that finally made me more fortunate than I believed possible, and gave me a life I would not trade for anybody's. For the seed of "bhakti," or the devotional attitude, was a gift of the Catholic Church to me. God is real, and responds to those who seek Him, in whatever religion.
Christ is a true guru, and Christians need to really make him their guru indeed. God has all kinds of names, being the Lord of All Names, and unconstrained as to place and time, and looks for His children in every valley, desert, and alleyway. The second great blessing in my life, after being born Christian and Catholic, was a true connection to a second true guru, Parahamansa Yogananda, and the knowledge of meditation technique he graciously gave me, and for truly taking me on. He finally gave me an understanding of what the world really is -- a temporary self-projected story -- so that I could stop fearing it no matter what happened in it. Another purpose of religion is to kill all fear.
Using my "Lee" name as a last name and adding "Julian" began later in life. I did this for convenience, to assist in business, and for esoteric reasons. Many of my interactions with people were dominated by hooptydoo and mish-mash about my name and I didn't like that. Even my father was not sure how Mickunas was supposed to be pronounced and wavered among versions! Then the fact that most insisted on calling me "Curt." From childhood I disliked the one-syllable "Curt" and preferred "Curtis." I felt like more than one syllable! And I figured even young that my mom and dad had some wisdom in giving me the rarer "Curtis" rather than the commoner "Curt" or "Kurt." Yet most believed they were chumming up to me by calling me "Curt." "Who would want to be called Curtis?"
Then there was the constant spelling-it-out and misspellings. Dealing with "Mickunas" was work enough; even "Curtis" was problematic.
"Is it c or k?"
"Is it i-s or e-s?"
"Is it k-i-r or k-u?"
Once I calculated how many hours days of life would spend simply spelling out mickunas -- and having them still get it wrong -- the idea snowballed from there. But I viewed "julian lee" as an alternative or additional name adopted primarily to help with my business and referals as most could spell it right. "Oh, you can find him at Julian Lee dot com!" It worked. But I suppose it's a truism that the Gemini ingredient (I have Mars-in-Gemini) produces several names. I couldn't fully express all my interests, purposes, or functions with one name, plus I needed to find out about the power of names. Using numerology and name studies I thought that the softer "Julian" might soften me up and help me become less caustic, which I needed. "Curtis" contains two cutting sounds plus a hiss I noted. I became a metaphysician and words, numbers, and names are among the playgrounds for such. Did it work? Not utterly. But I did grow into it such that some people can't call me anything else but "Julian." I am proud of the Mickunas name and consider it magic. But if you would like to call me Mentious Jones or Sky Jasper Walks-with-a-Voice that's all fine as well as I can't have too many names and it's all fun. I like it when others choose which name they prefer; the one they like, and I don't bristle at them saying, "No, you must call me this!" My family (and mother) and old schoolmates still call me "Curt" and I accept it and feel love in it when they do. My mother and father even called me odd pet names as a child, such as "Magurt." I consider "Julian Lee" to be my convenience name and J. Curtis Lee Mickunas my formal name.
People are crowded into and beaten down into one identity both by names, locations, and experiences. But I notice when I sleep I have no name, and when I am overjoyed. We are all, truly, beyond any one name.