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Andrew Vontz

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More than one hundred years ago, Uncle Running Bird Skystar, a medicine man in the Kiowa tribe, could not find a satisfying dressing for the greens he enjoyed hand-gathering every fortnight. In his mescaline-inspired visions, as he danced among the sacred blue maize for weeks at a time, he dreamed of a dressing for greens that was both flavorful and spirit enhancing.

He died without ever having found his Grail.

For this, we weep.

For many generations, then, we, the Skystar family (Ace, Buck, James, Bartholomew, Tree, Macintosh, Madison, and Whooping Flatstick) have sought to bring Uncle Running Bird's dream to life, to shoot to the moon and bring the wisdom of the justified ancients to the mouths and tongues of those hungry for soul-filling, life-giving food.

You hold in your hands a taste impression that is the synthesis of thousands of years of spiritual devotion.

Now let us share with you the patented process we use to bring Serenity: A Flavor from the Earth Mother to your dining room, table, and soul:

As dawn breaks on the Rancho Santo del Sol Kundalini Center, the Most High Hiroki Modetsu and his spiritual peers circle around a grouping of kava roots on the eastern edge of the compound.

They disrobe in the sub-zero high mountain air, link hands, and kneel.

Until sunset, the group's thoughts are focused exclusively on directing positive soul force into the roots and enriching them with the sustaining power of Gaya.

During this time, the Most High is fond of thinking of the concentric, warbling ripples left by a stone skipping across a crystalline pond of fresh snow melt high in the Caucasus mountains.

Devotee Shimshi, a diminutive Israeli lad of nineteen, joined the group years ago after wandering off of a hiking trail during a family vacation with nothing to sustain himself but a hollowed-out broom handle containing a Micronesian blow gun and a small portion of franks'n'beans. During his Kava meditation, Devotee Shimshi visualizes a polytetrahedral mandala comprised of smiley faces with a small green frog at the center.

The frog's name is Chaz.

Violet, the color of the highest chakra, radiates from Chaz's timpanic membranes and eyes.

Devotee Bob, a former mountain cougar hunter from Alabama, sometimes thinks of the feeling he had in third grade at St. Therese of the Little Flower when he booted a kickball over the chainlink fence circumscribing the playground. Thus scoring a homerun.

It is the habit of Devotee Kristen to think of herself as a fifth century native American man with wings flying through a slot canyon near Moab, Utah. In his hand, the man clutches his bison-tallow slicked light wand. It is stunning in both its turgidity and girth, yet it is somewhat shorter than average.

Or so Kristen imagines.

Simultaneously, in spiritual centers and sacred prana repositories around the world including Goa, Beawar, Tibet, Vanuata, and Menlo Park (California) among dozens of others, hundreds of boddhisatvas astrally project themselves into the roots as well.

These are the thoughts of serenity.

These are the thoughts of Serenity: A Flavor.

When harvest time comes four-to-six weeks later, Babu Ellen Horscht gently tugs the satyagraha-filled roots from the ground, frequently pausing to verbally praise and physically embrace the Earth Mother's bounty.

On a faraway ridge, a shaman who has smeared his skin with organic nettleberry juice waves a fist full of burning sage and consults an oracle made from a conch shell.

After harvest, a team of psychotherapists from the Dresner Institute Federation for Photosynthetic Psychological Activity circle the roots for three days while speaking aloud in soft, cooing tones in the key of C minor, nature's most soothing sound.

This is the sound of serenity.

This is the sound of Serenity: a Flavor.

Now ready for their transformation into liquid form, the roots are gently mashed along with ice hand-dug from the Arctic polar cap (in strict accordance with an ancient Incan Goddess ritual) by a team of eight Javanese Balabondoy using a twelve-foot tall pestle hand-carved from the finest Albanian marble.

The resulting potent elixir is then carefully poured into wooden barrels that are rolled by a team of the Most High's monks to North America where a congregation of devotees based at our headquarters in Scottsdale, Arizona carefully hand packs each 8-ounce miniature wooden individual serving barrel.

This is the feel of serenity.

This is the feel of Serenity: A Flavor.

Introduce your tongue to the euphoric, uplifting taste of Serenity: A Flavor.

It's something more than a salad dressing.

Share the wealth of this ancient and forbidden taste. Marvel as sensation arises from nothingness, cherish it on your tongue, in your mind, and in your heart.

But most of all, cherish it in your soul.

We here at Skystar Shambalistic LLC invite you, now, to awake from your spiritually depleted taste prison and join us in tasting Uncle Running Bird's dreams.

Won't you join us?

Open your eyes and wake up.

Wake up to Serenity: A Flavor.


Andrew Vontz is a freelance journalist and cultural critic in Los Angeles. His work appears in the Los Angeles Times magazine,,, Big Brother Skateboarding, Velonews, and many other magazines. Currently he is working on a book about electornic music and he has also written a novel, Pet Sounds. If you are an editor, agent, or publisher and would like to read Pet Sounds, please e-mail him

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