“The thing that consistently strikes me about Carl John is that whatever he touches has a heightened sense of meaningfulness. CJ and I have a casual friendship – we see each other about once every month or two – but every time we meet, I have the sense that we can very quickly and clearly cut past the surface of things and get to the heart of what really matters. I think this has to do with CJ ’s deep commitment to authenticity; he understands that a fear-based disconnection and urge to control things is a kind-of sickness that troubles the world, and he has devoted his existence to creating medicines that remedy this sickness. This mission radiates not just through his music and healing practices, but also throughout his very way of being. Personally, I’ve had a very powerful experience in which CJ helped me get in touch with something outside of myself – a kind of primal force of creativity that I’ve always felt was operative in my life, but which I’ve had difficulty accessing with consistently and reliably. My conversations with CJ seem to take the form of a kind of shamanic free-association; we speak in poetic rap-sessions exploring dimensions of possibility that resonate with a larger sense of purpose in my life and help me transcend the everyday thinking that sometimes clouds my awareness of the more interesting horizons of my existence. CJ’s unique power is his ability to help people discover their sense of purpose, and this comes from his powerful comfort and clarity regarding his own sense of purpose (and his fearless commitment to his purpose). As a scholar who focuses on problems related to colonialism and imperialism, I’m also very impressed with CJ’s way of relating with Native American spiritual practices. All too often, westerners can feel comfortable adopting Native American modes of belief and practice in a shallow and somewhat insensitive manner that disregards ancient traditions with arrogance and disrespect — this often referred to as “cultural appropriation.” CJ’s relation with Native American spirituality seems to me the opposite of this. He creates music, and he makes no claims to something that isn’t his; he just follows a deep calling of his heart and soul, and as a result, some people who have been raised within non-Western traditions feel a kind of spiritual kinship with him. He honors others in the world deeply and respectfully, and anyone can recognize that he is driven by a commitment to giving rather than taking from others for his own benefit. It also almost goes without saying that he is a brilliant and passionate musician – listen to him perform, and you’ll know what I mean. Perhaps the most important thing I ever learned from him was something he shared with me about his music. He noted that he found a huge difference in his own performance between times when he imagined himself playing alone and times when he could imagine himself in a large-scale concert setting. He could be in the very same physical space, but there was a measurable difference in the quality of his music depending on who he imagined himself playing for: “Where you’re at in your head,” he told me, “is where you’re at.” This, like many of CJ’s insights, struck me with the force of lightning . He’s absolutely right. Where we’re at in our heads IS where we’re at – our imaginations, or connections to our dreams, and our ability (or failure) to envision our brightest possibilities define us and shapes the quality of our impact on the world. CJ deeply understands this, and part of his magic is to help all of us remember this, too. Carpe diem.”

DAVID M. HIGGINS, PHD

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH AT INVER HILLS COLLLEGE