Sri Lanka’s Forgotten Body Mission

Max and LuLu trace a blocked appetite and an unsettled home back to a lack of clarity about mission. They explore the body as the teaching itself—formed through food, land, sleep, reciprocity, and service—and confront the seductive “light show” displacing Sri Lanka’s ancestral intelligence. Their central recognition: the work cannot remain electronic. It must become embodied, local, and real.

The Individual Roles

Max: Okay, and we are live. Mic test, testing.

So, we were discussing the role that Lydia and I each have in allying with nature to accomplish the next series of tasks.

My body was rejecting me eating meat until I clarified my intention and my integrity surrounding my own personal role that I took on in an initiation in 2015: that I have to spread love through spoken word.

Thusly, we now have these audios that I’m recording right now, and we are doing a dialogue together.

LuLu: Specifically, we’re talking about our individual roles, and also the role that Earth, the land, the house, and the place that we are going to be living in, cultivating, and allying with here is going to play.

We’re noticing how maybe the lack of clarity about what that role is was causing a disturbance in the house—and preventing us from being magnetized toward one another and finding each other.

So, we’ve been sitting down and coming into a tremendous amount of clarity around this idea that our bodies are becoming the thing that is going to be a living transmission of the thing we are teaching.

How do our bodies become that living transmission?

It becomes built through how we eat, how we sleep, where we sleep, the ground that we’re sleeping on, the trees in the area we’re sleeping in, how we move, the geometry of the items in the house, how we pee into the Earth, and how we give back to the Earth that we are in stewardship of for some small amount of time.

All of these things are contributing to how our bodies are being transformed into the teaching itself.

The Work Must Be Real

Max: Basically, I think what Lydia was discussing is something we’ll cover later in the conversation, or in the next one.

Prior to that, we came into a roadblock, which was that I couldn’t eat the food in front of me—the meat and the fish. My body ignited and said, “I’m not in integrity.”

In the middle of this recording, interestingly, one of the local women came and asked if we could get a high-resolution image representation of her father—which I find quite on point.

People want a picture of where they came from. It’s so valuable to them. They want a clear picture—an image that allows them to say, “Oh, that’s what I am. This is where I come from.”

They need help doing that because the technology they have now is not sufficient.

Lydia and I happen to have an advanced technology, for some unknown reason, for seeing clearly into the past and the future, talking to beings, et cetera. We’re able to relay that through high-quality electronic devices, as well as through the electrochemical devices of our bodies, which we’ve put extensive cleaning into.

There are probably not many people alive who have intentionally cleaned their bodies to the extent that we have who are being of use.

I feel like we need to make ourselves available.

She’s like, “Oh, can you help me? Can you help me?” And immediately, we put the work down—because that is the work. At one level, the work is being of service.

That was the reminder I got: as important as these electronic publications are, the real thing must be done in person.

It must be trans—transcribed in per—transferred… I can’t think of the word right now. What’s the word? Transmissioned in person. Transmitted.

LuLu: Transmitted.

Max: Transmitted. And that allows it to be real.

I had forgotten about that. I thought I could go fully electric, but they basically said, “No, no, no. You’ve got to do the in-person. I’m not going to empower your body until you realize that this is why we’re empowering your body—or one aspect of it.”

No animals will make a sacrifice to some electronic god. It must be in person as well. It must be in service to something real and true.

Unplugged from the Source

LuLu: One thing we were talking about was that there isn’t anything wrong with people creating things—making furniture, making beautiful art, and making businesses.

It’s when it becomes unplugged from the source, from the wellspring that we all come from, that it becomes incredibly irrelevant. It becomes erratic motion for no greater purpose.

That’s a lot of what we see happening here in Sri Lanka: white people coming here and building things on the beach—these fucking hipster cafés.

It’s something for no greater purpose. It has no relevance to the thing that we come from.

It’s kind of just a light show.

Forcing the Island

Max: Yeah. I mean, we’re in a land of mud, where people live slowly on an island, and people are building concrete structures designed not to tilt or crack. They’re supposed to remain fungal- and mold-free when you’re living in a swamp.

They want workers who work twelve hours a day for ten dollars or less and show up every day for work.

That’s not the culture. That’s not where they are. That’s not what the environment does. They’re trying to force it, going, “But you’re going to take it.”

That’s fine. It’s an allowed thing within the game if it’s in substantial service to the local population in some way. Right now, it’s not.

They’re extracting the money. They’re doing it for themselves. Then they spend it on alcohol and depression.

The locals are starting to pick up on this. They’re starting to figure it out: “No, no. We don’t want to do this anymore. We don’t want it. We don’t want to play this game.”

Some of them are—not all of them. Some are selling out. But it’s part of life. It’s part of the lesson.

The Light Show

LuLu: We were talking about how part of our role—and I think, for me, potentially doing this anonymously—is to help people.

At this point in the world, everyone has gotten very distracted by the light show. Everybody has sold out to this lie that the Western world and media have very efficaciously spread.

We’re very, very ancient peoples. Sri Lankans have even sold out to this idea that owning a party hostel and a coffee shop on the beach is the ultimate thing in life—the pinnacle of what life can be.

If you can photograph it, put it on Instagram, and show other people your coffee shop, that’s the apex of life itself.

But they know better in their bodies. Their bodies have these codes of the deep, deep magic of their people—another way of life that is a worshipful celebration of nature, living in tune with it, living in beauty, harmony, and abundance.

Unfortunately, they’ve forgotten because this light show is so bright and loud. It is bombarding everyone from every direction: radio, cell phones, televisions, images, billboards. It’s everywhere.

It’s a disease that is very difficult to escape. Even in the villages, you ask a small boy what his dream is and he says, “To own a million-dollar watch someday.”

His family makes four hundred dollars a month, and they are working themselves to death. How does an eight-year-old village boy in southern Sri Lanka know the brand name of some hyper-expensive watch company that I’ve never even heard of—and make that his dream in life?

This disease has spread very fucking far.

Disease or Phenomenon?

Max: It’s not a disease, though.

I think this is where people get caught up: they label things as other and as a problem. As soon as you label something as the problem, you can’t fix it. You’ve made it other.

You have to look at it and go, “Here is this thing. This unfolding. This imbalance, you might call it, according to your perspective—but it’s just a phenomenon.”

LuLu: Yeah. Well, the only reason I say disease is because the only thing an infection is, potentially, is a different ratio of bacteria that already live in your body. It’s an imbalance of one bacteria to another.

That’s what cancer is. We are all walking around with cancer cells in our bodies. Cancer of the liver is an overgrowth of those cells, isolated to a certain place, and that’s what we call liver cancer.

But, yeah, it’s not a problem with that cell or a problem with that bacteria. It’s just an improper ratio of those things.

The Fan and the Outlet

Max: I used an example earlier: the local place and the local people are an outlet. What people are doing is coming in and offering accessories to plug into the outlet.

People have come up with the idea of building fans—and building extra-wonderful fans. All the local people are going, “Wow,” and buying these fans, plugging them in, and powering them because they’re so well designed and engineered.

And it’s true. It is an excellent fan.

That’s what’s important to know: the fan itself is an excellent fan.

However, do we even need a fan? Is it relevant to the needs of the place?

LuLu: No, generally no. In fact, if you don’t cut all the trees down, it’s very cool here.

This is the thing: they’re cutting the trees down to build fans to cool it off. It’s just backwards thinking.

Max: And the reality is, people forgot the Mata thing. They forgot their Mata gene. They forgot that nature is the solution. Nature is built in. It has it designed already.

I think that’s a big chunk of our message right now—particularly Lydia’s message. It might be her big message for a long time: the technology of nature, of being natural.

Communication with Life

LuLu: I think it’s interesting that, in this phase of our life, one thing I’m really excited to teach in the world is this process of communication with life.

Understanding why, in certain moments, there is friction inside of us—and why there is friction happening outside of us.

Figuring out: Why does your body not want meat? Why is the house not becoming apparent? What is not clear? What is the static in our lives right now that would cause two things not to magnetize toward one another in service to something greater?

And then reorganizing ourselves accordingly, to make that static significantly less.

LuLu and Max extend their inquiry from personal mission into collective amnesia. Sri Lanka’s psychic and ecological intelligence has been exchanged for imported cafés, cheap labor, and finite money. They imagine the opposing timeline: bodies reunited with land, elders, trees, weather, beauty, and an abundance no economy can replace.

Clarifying the Mission

LuLu: I think an interesting parallel right now, through this situation with the beef, the fish, and the house, is that we’re being asked to really clarify our mission—and the roles of our mission independently, together, and in allyship with life and nature.

In a strange way, we’re also hoping to do that for others.

In understanding the mechanics of this process, being dedicated to that process, and doing it, we are hoping to become the thing—to become the bodies that help other people do that as well.

Sri Lanka’s Forgotten Body Mission

LuLu: Maybe in some way—and for many reasons, because of colonization, et cetera—the magic of Sri Lankan people has been forgotten.

They have forgotten their body mission.

Their body’s mission is not to build hipster cafés, coffee shops, and clothing boutiques that carry clothes designed by a German girl. That is not their mission in life. That is not their genius in life.

They have a genius that is a deep understanding of the jungle and the natural world: how to celebrate it, cultivate it, increase its beauty, live in tune with that beauty, and have that beauty sing through their own bodies, clothing, textiles, furniture—their beautiful fucking hand-carved wooden furniture—and all of these things.

Their life is a testimony and a worship of that union with nature.

And they’re incredibly fucking psychic. They’re some of the most psychic humans I’ve ever met in my life.

This is the genius they have cultivated in their bodies through thousands of years. Then we have white people coming to their shores, paying them seven dollars a day to build a coffee shop so Westerners can come, drink more coffee, and become more electrical.

This is a deep disservice to this place.

Slowly, the Earth Loses

Max: And the coffee shop is a European design, with a European coffee machine, with European coffee being drunk by Europeans.

It’s just the materials and the workforce provided by the locals.

That’s the imbalance.

Again, on one hand, there’s nothing wrong with that. On the other hand, it’s not enough. They’re not getting paid well. They’re not doing it in service to the land.

They extract it, they money-launder, and all of those things. It disappears from the economy, and slowly, slowly, the Earth loses.

Then we end up in the situation we’re in globally, where the Earth has lost so big and everyone is going, “Well, then let’s leave Earth and go to the next place. We’ll harvest more from the sun, and we’ll harvest from asteroids.”

Then we’re going to create life ourselves with all this technology.

They’re going to create this really limp version of life that is full of disease all the time and needs constant maintenance.

Which is fine. Again, which is fine.

I think it’s an imminent future. From what I’ve seen, that is an imminent future—unavoidable.

Choosing the Other Timeline

Max: But Lydia and I can choose to be the other side and speak for the other side.

At least the seeds we plant will be seeds of harmony, nature, and a different kind of life.

Who knows—as we develop our own timelines, maybe in she and I’s timeline, we’re going to swap. We’re going to end up on a very different, luscious green world, with painted trees and dancing people, running by the moon cycles and star cycles.

People speak the language of their hearts. They have no words. They are just is-ness.

They speak with their bodies—just the movements of their bodies. Their walks become unique and not copied.

Education is time spent around elders. You simply sit with elders and imbibe something like this.

You learn to travel out of your body and go to other dimensions where language happens.

But I don’t know if this is the land of language. I don’t know if this is the language dimension so much.

This Earth seems to be strangely chemical. It seems to be strangely life-giving. Somewhere like Mars is very easy to electrically communicate through language—or the other planetary systems.

No Price for Coherence

LuLu: Thinking about these images of another way of living makes me feel really passionately that there is no amount of money sufficient to trade for this other, truer way of living.

There’s just no amount of money.

To be a human who is deeply in tune with everything around you—deeply knowing, deeply wise, deeply psychic—and knows how to arrange life around them so it proliferates more beauty, coherence, and harmony: that is abundance.

That kind of abundance is infinitely more valuable than any amount of money you could give someone.

How their body would sing with that harmony—and that superior wellness—is priceless.

The Ancient Tree Remembers

LuLu: We visited this very old tree today—a potentially five-hundred-year-old tree, maybe older.

It was a very, very old tree, and he started talking to me immediately.

I could feel the sadness of this very ancient being. He showed me images—almost like images of what could be.

It was this feeling of: What the fuck happened here?

He was showing me images of these incredibly beautiful Sri Lankan humans who had come to live so seamlessly with the natural world.

He showed me sidewalks made from hand-painted clay tiles. People were wearing incredibly intricately woven clothing.

Life was, again, this worshipful celebration of nature and beauty.

The amount of abundance they had because they were working together with nature was astounding. It almost felt like El Dorado—this incredible amount of abundance, which, ironically, is what people are looking for.

Finite Dollars for Infinite Abundance

LuLu: Ultimately, people have traded a finite amount of dollars for infinite abundance and wellness.

That’s the situation we live in right now.

An infinite amount of body cognizance, body technology, telepathy, communication with rocks and trees, knowing when an earthquake will happen, when a storm will happen, and where—

These are the things we have traded for a finite number of dollars in our bank accounts.