The sky breaks open and bleeds bliss. I swim in sweet water. I sip on honeysuckles. I vibrate in the tall grass. The day drifts like a dandelion seed blowing in the wind. I sink, I sink, I sink. I sink into the earth and swallow an antiquated light…. it’s as sweet as sugar.
I watch as flower petals fall like faded curiosities between my fingers and I find myself as happy here in the sparsity of farmland as I am at sea. This time the waves before me are green.
It’s spring time, and every living thing is shaking it’s body towards the sun. They shake with pride, they shake with passion; they jive, they boogaloo, they cha-cha. Me, I just twist and shout.
The sun is the ruler of the wind and here the wind is wicked, so what can be said of it’s ruler the sun? Whenever the wind blows up from the south, I think about Cape Horn and all of the boats that sank at the world’s edge.
I think about think about the Atlantic, Pacific, and Southern Oceans having one hell of a hootenanny down there. I think about captains steering into the eye of storms on ships with shredded sails. Surrounded by a treeless terrain. Staring at a mountain of waves. Tortured by the sound of thunderclaps in the sky. I think about the sea turning men into dogs as they fall and plead for their lives in the thick of a williwaw. I think about the gale force winds of the Cape; cracking hulls, ripping boats in two, carrying canvas away, and snapping masts apart…. as if it was all just made of paper. I think about the thousands of people that were thrown into freezing waves that climb 120 feet high. And I think about the albatross, and his perilous cry.
I can hear women screaming in the wind like the spirit of the dead. I chase the sound in circles, until I am back on the hill of now.
This hill flows up and down and up- slowly, softly, limitlessly. It is decorated with; trees, quartz crystals, cow dung, mushrooms, rabbits, frogs, snakes, livestock, and a rainbow of dainty little wildflowers. Above me the birds float in the thermals, with wings spread wide, casting their large shadows across the land. I smile to see an eagle gliding among the feathered caravan. His presence, a symbol of a freedom that crumbles too easily among the concrete of cities.
In cities, I get lost. In nature, I get found. Nature is a genuine jewel that sparkles with the blaze of salvation. I go as deep inside of it as I can- forests, valleys, oceans, mountains-to sit still. To purify. To reverberate with peace and balance.
Without nature I think humans are like flightless birds. Cursed like the ostrich, the kiwi, the steamer duck, the penguin- with wings that flap, but never fly.
I inhale. There is a strong smell of eucalyptus smothering everything that surrounds me. The tree is grown in Uruguay to produce pulp. It is a big business, but that tree is also known to be an “ecological terrorist.” To grow it beyond it’s native habitat, is to crush the land and deplete it of vital nutrients. Plus it’s a highly flammable tree that can set the world on fire.
My love for the scent of eucalyptus and it’s medicinal properties overpowers thoughts of its destructive nature. This makes me reflect on the dualities of life and aesthetics.
Not all that I find beautiful is good… far from it. Sometimes beauty is a cruel savage- like lava erupting from a volcano or lightning falling from the sky. Sometimes, beauty is a speck of evil that a species uses in order to evolve and thrive- like the sweet nectar secreted from a Venus flytrap. I find beauty in the color of toxic flowers, beauty in the manic dance a stout does to catch and kill a rabbit, beauty in the web of a spider- beauty gleaming in everything- the damned, the doomed, and the dandy.
My friend raises some animals that are damned- like his sheep that are chased into a pen and sheered each spring. He raises some animals that are doomed- like his cows that are slaughtered as soon as their fat bodies are ripe enough. And he raises some that are dandy- like his horses that only exist to eat grass and are seldomly ridden.
He also grows fruit trees, vegetables, and plant medicines of a psychedelic nature. I let the provisions of earth fall into my mouth; fresh from vine, plucked from the tree, trimmed at the root.
My friend used to have goats, but got rid of them after they ate his san pedro cactuses. The cactus of the four winds is full of mescaline. I imagine the goats all stoned on a floaty fairytale feeling- lounging by the river, laughing, staring at the sun through the leaves of trees, talking to goat-gods, and feeling the oneness between them, the earth, and the sky.
The other day, I almost had my own fairytale. I found a jar in the fridge full honey. Just before I poured it into my coffee Mati yelled, “That’s ayahuasca not honey!”
Phew! I would have poured globs of it in my cup, until it became a sacred potion instead of a morning stimulant. Then I would have vomited and flown into the matrix where too many truths are seen at once. Which subsequently would have nearly killed delicate little me, who is already on a new planet.
When I was on the Amazonian planet (read about it in The Grass Ocean) , I did drink ayahuasca with the partially-blind-monkey-thieving man. Ayahuasca is a tea brewed by shamans in the amazon. It is a mixture made of a vine that contains DMT aka “The Spirit Molecule,” and a shrub plant which blocks the enzymes that break down DMT in our bodies. When the two plants are combined the DMT can flow freely through the body, forcing the users ego to deteriorate, and allowing ones internal sages to spread the experience of enlightenment throughout their being.
My experience on it was like walking in a labyrinth made of secret corridors. I went inside my own body, into outer-space, inside eternal realms. I saw scenes from the bible- like the virgin Mary giving birth to Jesus but there were no wise men there, only androgynous angels. I saw all of my organs and the places where neither food nor fluid could flow. I saw ancient Mayan and Aztec patterns twirling all around me in neon; ornamental serpents, alien-like beings, fish, and pure geometry. I saw life like an infinity mirror- a reflection upon a reflection, upon a reflection- I could never hold in my vision which part of it was real. Because all of it was real and at the same time none of it was real. And by me looking at it more closely, I made it become more real.
I learned from this experience about the power perspective holds over our perception. If I keep looking at the ditch, I am going to end up in the ditch. So, it’s best to just keep my eyes on the horizon and ignore the ditch, not give it one speck of my attention. If I accidentally end up in the damn ditch, because I just couldn’t stop myself from seeing it, then I shift my focus back to the horizon and before I know it, life will lift me out of the ditch.
Anyway, DMT is naturally occurring in trace amounts in the human body, but our body breaks it down before it can take us on an endless journey. It’s purpose for residing in us remains a highly debated scientific mystery. The bigger mystery to me is, how on earth did shamans know to combine these two rainforest plants in order to make this tea? I think it is because when one lives closely to plants, they can communicate with plants.
I sit here; communicating and fluctuating and oscillating, like a ripple rolling along with a new tide.
To be continued….
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