There are no adequate words to express the loss that we have suffered. Robert Hugh Pollock, our friend, brother, and fellow cynic, is gone.
He left the world on Sabbath Saturday, September 7th @ 3:03 PM.
I met him on the Rainbow Trail in Santa Cruz in 1980. He was just 16 at the time.
I was already well on my way towards becoming, with a family and two children. Some might, as Rob often was want to do jokingly in these last days that we were together, refer to me as a 'hippy.'
But as Rob would confirm, if he were still here, I was 'hippy' merely in the fact that I smoked the herb, had long hair, and liked Rock 'n Roll. All the rest of it I rejected then, and I still reject. But that is a topic for another discussion -if it is even worth it.
Rob left his home at an early age, and by the time I met him, he had already become quite street wise. In fact, he was certainly wiser about that than I. It was one of the first things that I admired about him; the fact that he could manage to survive completely off of his wits, and do it all with a smile and a good joke to keep it always light.
As I was much older, by 11 years he looked to me as an older brother, and was attracted to my spirit, as I was to his. We shared much in those days, had a few years of magical adventures and our lifelong conversation began. Some of those adventures will be retold for generations, even though the now living probably will not realize the value of them until I have joined my Sacred Brethren in the place where they seem to be going these days.
From the beginning our friendship was not the shallow, surface relationships that most people think of as 'friends,' but deep, resonant, and with a substantial feeling and acknowledgment of the eternal.
Together we performed High Spiritual Magic of the likes that the many who witnessed grew jealous and made many attempts to attack, divide, and stop the movement that Rob and I were beginning as comrades in a conflict that goes back far into antiquity.
Those stories will be told, but most will think them fiction.
Not only was Rob my Brother In Arms in the Spirit, he was my witness and co-performer on the stage of High Spiritual Magic. That magic was so powerful and High, both of us used it as a gauge to measure the substance of True Spirituality, as there is a signature and an identifiable essence of Spirit that we both were given access by the experiences. And the both of us were not limited to one or two experiences, nor were we limited to having to be together to have them.
I will tell what I know of Robs Spiritual story, but not here. It will be hidden where only the worthy can find it. And I am not determining who that is. I just know the way to do it.
The tales we had to tell will not illuminate anyone, because without witnessing, there is no purchase in understanding. Both of us tried mightily to explain, over and over, in many different ways to those who have crossed our paths. Both of us have loved other brothers and sisters who came to get share in the wisdom, but whom put their own criteria and limitations on the gifts. So often times those who came to receive our gifts, and Rob's in particular, could not truly receive them and rejected both of us for our presence with jealousy, angst, and sometimes war.
Then in 1984 he met the mother of his children, and by the end of 1985, had gone with her to the east coast to start his family and begin his adult life. At first we wrote letters. He sent me a tape of his part of the conversation. I replied, but my reply was not received well by his wife, and the communication stopped.
My pride was hurt slightly after writing to him and getting no answer, but I actually surmised what had happened and let it go
I did not hear from him again until 2011.
We talked online, and on the phone for hours, days, and weeks trying to catch up on all this lost years. What we talked about is for me cherished memories. I could easily despair of ever finding another who could converse with me on the same levels as Rob, but then as every one is unique, I understand that I have to take what I am given in any particular life circumstance. It is a great lesson that Rob himself had a hand in showing me.
I warned him that coming out here would be a struggle, because I have no land, no property, no way to support much of anything other than myself and my family and that only at a bare minimum -like so many these days. After I warned him that maybe some of what he was seeking in reconnecting with me after so many years might not happen as he expected, and that I myself was not sure of the meaning of it all, he came back to the west.
Both he and I agreed that there is more magic and spiritual happening in the west, than in the east, though he would not say that to his east coast acquaintances, and his brother and daughter were exempt from that opinion for obvious reasons, not the least of which was the fact that they were able to love Rob unconditionally, and were open to his thoughts and conclusions - apparently not something that many of his eastern associations could go very far with it.
Rob often talked about how good it was to be back in the west, and how being in the east had nearly 'dumbed down' (his words) his awareness. He came out here seeking to rekindle the lost magic of our youth, to see if the sparkle we both once bathed in almost daily was still alive.
Rob was here with myself and my family for over 2 years. It was pretty full.
In 2011, we resurrected our old band, 'ARC' from its long slumber. In 1984 we started that band in Tucson Az. It was a lifelong dream for both of us and our drummer then and now, Abin. We struggled mightily with each other to be as good and polished as we could get in a couple of months, and the stress was so great we broke up the band 3 days before the performance we were practicing for. But all of us agreed that it would be a huge travesty if we didn't perform. So even though there was a lot of feelings below the surface, we all put on our professional faces and gave the performance of all of our lives.
The we went to the Rainbow Gathering on the slopes of Mt. St, Helens in Washington State. That story, like others that reflect things Sacred and Magical that will not be cast to the dogs of the internet, will not be told here.
Rob and I sent many hours together, covering so many topics of conversation we decided to start a youtube show, and the forum. He did it for us, him and I. It was to be a forum where things that most people do not want to hear, or discuss without binders and conditions could be discussed. I was not all that happy about the title he chose, as I was not really considering myself as a 'cynical bastard.' But though it was meant as a tongue-in-cheek, almost 'inside joke' kind of thing, I went along with it because I definitely approved of the idea.
We did not always agree, and sometimes, though he would probably be angry with me when he was still with us for saying it, I could still see that 16 year old kid wearing clothes that did not fit him, with a smile that was distinctly all his own. Because that smile never faded. But Rob did. He has left.
It comes in waves, for those who have not yet experienced it. Grief does.
You think you have washed your soul and healed your heartache with your tears, but as the wave hits again, though perhaps receding, you find reserves you didn't know you had.
Rob was beginning a major adventure, one that he had hoped would at least get his name down in the Guinness Book for longest electric bike journey ever. He really thought he could do it. I supported it wholeheartedly, even though it meant Rob would be incognito out there on the road with only periodical check ins. He spent many hours researching, acquiring, and assembling the first prototype that he rode a distance of about 6 1/2 miles, laying the bike down once trying to maneuver around a gate.
It was obvious to all, including Rob, that the current design was top-heavy and had to be changed. So Rob went "Back to the drawing board."
Unbeknownst to all except perhaps Rob himself in some deep ways that will remain a mystery, his cancer was creeping up on him like fukushima (which may be a more active and responsible factor for his death than is comfortable to talk about, but it must be stated.) He revised his prototype to include a trailer that would bear the weight of the batteries, and called me to tell me he was going to try again.
Then about 10 minutes later he called and told me he'd crashed.
It was serious enough that folks had to help him back to his home, but he claimed to be 'alright' on the phone so I didn't see him until the next day.
We concurred that something was definitely wrong beyond injuries that might have occurred during the crash, and that he had to go to the hospital the following monday. I myself could not take him as I currently do not have a vehicle capable of that journey. I helped another by -supplying gas money- with such a vehicle, take him.
He called from the hospital, said he'd been diagnosed with terminal cancer and was given a few months to live (how many was never specified, nor did it matter). I and his family spent his last days with him, trying to find all the things we wanted to say, and share one last time, then he was gone, just like that!
Though Rob had a very clean exit, he actually had already managed to lighten his material load down to a small collection of possessions that fit in the back seat of his brother's car, for us who are left behind there is still a bit of work left in the digital realm to be able to carry on where Rob left off. So the changes that will inevitably happen here may take some months to be apparent.
When i first met Rob, he introduced himself as "Sinbad." We all thought that very humorous and tried not to laugh inappropriately in the presence of our young brother Rob. That didn't last long, and within a few months Rob decided he wanted to be called "Hugh" -which was his middle name, named after his Grandfather, whom I am told he resembled. There was about a half a year before that he hung out on the beach in California. The next time I saw him he introduced himself as "Elk Heart." Eventually he met a man called "Sea Eagle" that gave him some major spiritual insights, and he became Eagle Heart.
Eagle Heart was his Spirit Name. For most of his life he kept that a well guarded secret. But he was Eagle Heart.
In conclusion, I leave you with this short poem written by my youngest son, one of many youth that Eagle Heart touched with his humor, love, understanding, and helpful interaction.
He left the world on Sabbath Saturday, September 7th @ 3:03 PM.
I met him on the Rainbow Trail in Santa Cruz in 1980. He was just 16 at the time.
I was already well on my way towards becoming, with a family and two children. Some might, as Rob often was want to do jokingly in these last days that we were together, refer to me as a 'hippy.'
But as Rob would confirm, if he were still here, I was 'hippy' merely in the fact that I smoked the herb, had long hair, and liked Rock 'n Roll. All the rest of it I rejected then, and I still reject. But that is a topic for another discussion -if it is even worth it.
Rob left his home at an early age, and by the time I met him, he had already become quite street wise. In fact, he was certainly wiser about that than I. It was one of the first things that I admired about him; the fact that he could manage to survive completely off of his wits, and do it all with a smile and a good joke to keep it always light.
As I was much older, by 11 years he looked to me as an older brother, and was attracted to my spirit, as I was to his. We shared much in those days, had a few years of magical adventures and our lifelong conversation began. Some of those adventures will be retold for generations, even though the now living probably will not realize the value of them until I have joined my Sacred Brethren in the place where they seem to be going these days.
From the beginning our friendship was not the shallow, surface relationships that most people think of as 'friends,' but deep, resonant, and with a substantial feeling and acknowledgment of the eternal.
Together we performed High Spiritual Magic of the likes that the many who witnessed grew jealous and made many attempts to attack, divide, and stop the movement that Rob and I were beginning as comrades in a conflict that goes back far into antiquity.
Those stories will be told, but most will think them fiction.
Not only was Rob my Brother In Arms in the Spirit, he was my witness and co-performer on the stage of High Spiritual Magic. That magic was so powerful and High, both of us used it as a gauge to measure the substance of True Spirituality, as there is a signature and an identifiable essence of Spirit that we both were given access by the experiences. And the both of us were not limited to one or two experiences, nor were we limited to having to be together to have them.
I will tell what I know of Robs Spiritual story, but not here. It will be hidden where only the worthy can find it. And I am not determining who that is. I just know the way to do it.
The tales we had to tell will not illuminate anyone, because without witnessing, there is no purchase in understanding. Both of us tried mightily to explain, over and over, in many different ways to those who have crossed our paths. Both of us have loved other brothers and sisters who came to get share in the wisdom, but whom put their own criteria and limitations on the gifts. So often times those who came to receive our gifts, and Rob's in particular, could not truly receive them and rejected both of us for our presence with jealousy, angst, and sometimes war.
Then in 1984 he met the mother of his children, and by the end of 1985, had gone with her to the east coast to start his family and begin his adult life. At first we wrote letters. He sent me a tape of his part of the conversation. I replied, but my reply was not received well by his wife, and the communication stopped.
My pride was hurt slightly after writing to him and getting no answer, but I actually surmised what had happened and let it go
I did not hear from him again until 2011.
We talked online, and on the phone for hours, days, and weeks trying to catch up on all this lost years. What we talked about is for me cherished memories. I could easily despair of ever finding another who could converse with me on the same levels as Rob, but then as every one is unique, I understand that I have to take what I am given in any particular life circumstance. It is a great lesson that Rob himself had a hand in showing me.
I warned him that coming out here would be a struggle, because I have no land, no property, no way to support much of anything other than myself and my family and that only at a bare minimum -like so many these days. After I warned him that maybe some of what he was seeking in reconnecting with me after so many years might not happen as he expected, and that I myself was not sure of the meaning of it all, he came back to the west.
Both he and I agreed that there is more magic and spiritual happening in the west, than in the east, though he would not say that to his east coast acquaintances, and his brother and daughter were exempt from that opinion for obvious reasons, not the least of which was the fact that they were able to love Rob unconditionally, and were open to his thoughts and conclusions - apparently not something that many of his eastern associations could go very far with it.
Rob often talked about how good it was to be back in the west, and how being in the east had nearly 'dumbed down' (his words) his awareness. He came out here seeking to rekindle the lost magic of our youth, to see if the sparkle we both once bathed in almost daily was still alive.
Rob was here with myself and my family for over 2 years. It was pretty full.
In 2011, we resurrected our old band, 'ARC' from its long slumber. In 1984 we started that band in Tucson Az. It was a lifelong dream for both of us and our drummer then and now, Abin. We struggled mightily with each other to be as good and polished as we could get in a couple of months, and the stress was so great we broke up the band 3 days before the performance we were practicing for. But all of us agreed that it would be a huge travesty if we didn't perform. So even though there was a lot of feelings below the surface, we all put on our professional faces and gave the performance of all of our lives.
The we went to the Rainbow Gathering on the slopes of Mt. St, Helens in Washington State. That story, like others that reflect things Sacred and Magical that will not be cast to the dogs of the internet, will not be told here.
Rob and I sent many hours together, covering so many topics of conversation we decided to start a youtube show, and the forum. He did it for us, him and I. It was to be a forum where things that most people do not want to hear, or discuss without binders and conditions could be discussed. I was not all that happy about the title he chose, as I was not really considering myself as a 'cynical bastard.' But though it was meant as a tongue-in-cheek, almost 'inside joke' kind of thing, I went along with it because I definitely approved of the idea.
We did not always agree, and sometimes, though he would probably be angry with me when he was still with us for saying it, I could still see that 16 year old kid wearing clothes that did not fit him, with a smile that was distinctly all his own. Because that smile never faded. But Rob did. He has left.
It comes in waves, for those who have not yet experienced it. Grief does.
You think you have washed your soul and healed your heartache with your tears, but as the wave hits again, though perhaps receding, you find reserves you didn't know you had.
Rob was beginning a major adventure, one that he had hoped would at least get his name down in the Guinness Book for longest electric bike journey ever. He really thought he could do it. I supported it wholeheartedly, even though it meant Rob would be incognito out there on the road with only periodical check ins. He spent many hours researching, acquiring, and assembling the first prototype that he rode a distance of about 6 1/2 miles, laying the bike down once trying to maneuver around a gate.
It was obvious to all, including Rob, that the current design was top-heavy and had to be changed. So Rob went "Back to the drawing board."
Unbeknownst to all except perhaps Rob himself in some deep ways that will remain a mystery, his cancer was creeping up on him like fukushima (which may be a more active and responsible factor for his death than is comfortable to talk about, but it must be stated.) He revised his prototype to include a trailer that would bear the weight of the batteries, and called me to tell me he was going to try again.
Then about 10 minutes later he called and told me he'd crashed.
It was serious enough that folks had to help him back to his home, but he claimed to be 'alright' on the phone so I didn't see him until the next day.
We concurred that something was definitely wrong beyond injuries that might have occurred during the crash, and that he had to go to the hospital the following monday. I myself could not take him as I currently do not have a vehicle capable of that journey. I helped another by -supplying gas money- with such a vehicle, take him.
He called from the hospital, said he'd been diagnosed with terminal cancer and was given a few months to live (how many was never specified, nor did it matter). I and his family spent his last days with him, trying to find all the things we wanted to say, and share one last time, then he was gone, just like that!
Though Rob had a very clean exit, he actually had already managed to lighten his material load down to a small collection of possessions that fit in the back seat of his brother's car, for us who are left behind there is still a bit of work left in the digital realm to be able to carry on where Rob left off. So the changes that will inevitably happen here may take some months to be apparent.
When i first met Rob, he introduced himself as "Sinbad." We all thought that very humorous and tried not to laugh inappropriately in the presence of our young brother Rob. That didn't last long, and within a few months Rob decided he wanted to be called "Hugh" -which was his middle name, named after his Grandfather, whom I am told he resembled. There was about a half a year before that he hung out on the beach in California. The next time I saw him he introduced himself as "Elk Heart." Eventually he met a man called "Sea Eagle" that gave him some major spiritual insights, and he became Eagle Heart.
Eagle Heart was his Spirit Name. For most of his life he kept that a well guarded secret. But he was Eagle Heart.
In conclusion, I leave you with this short poem written by my youngest son, one of many youth that Eagle Heart touched with his humor, love, understanding, and helpful interaction.
Eagle Heart
A man of vision a man of dreams
Reminding us all how nothing is as it seems
A true rainbow warrior down to his soul
And though a cynical bastard, fulfilling his role
Questioning reality and doing his part
Flying high above the illusion; he is eagle heart
peace to us all
Fly with the eagles my brother.