BEYOND POLITICS
CONSCIOUSNESS AND SOCIAL CHANGE

     Heaven and lake show a difference of elevation that inheres in the natures of the two, hence no envy arises. Among mankind also there are necessarily differences in elevation; it is impossible to bring about universal equality. But it is important that differences in social rank should not be arbitrary and unjust, for if this occurs, envy and class struggle are the inevitable consequences. If, on the other hand, external differences in rank correspond with differences in inner worth, and if inner worth forms the criterion of external rank, people acquiesce and order reigns in society. (The I Ching, Hexagram 10, the Image.)

     In other words, for there to be order in our society, those of us who have aspired to be more conscious, that is, of greater inner worth, have to start taking responsibility for the way the world is going. For too long we have left the world to those who have obviously been deficient in inner worth.

     Today we need to follow the direction shown by our holy men and women, not the hateful and destructive way that our politicians have been leading us upon. This holy way would not involve trying to run things, would not involve trying to be in charge, and would certainly not involve trying to own everything. Instead, it would involve trying to change reality by changing our individual consciousness and consciousness of the collective.

     When civilization has dissolved into chaos and violence, when the governments and the laws have become corrupt, it becomes the responsibility of all of us to turn to ourselves and to the inner wisdom that is our heritage. We must become conscious of and follow the inner laws of our very being. We must do this now. This is the hour.

Outlaw Politics

      "To live outside the law, you must be honest," Bob Dylan once sang. Honesty is the same as being conscious. In the old days, we used to talk about acid honesty, about how, when we were on acid, we could be completely honest with ourselves and with each other. This was because we were conscious then.

     Speaking of acid and honesty, when I was at the Rainbow Gathering last July, I lost my belly bag with all my papers and cards and money. An honest brother found it, looked at my ID for my picture, found me at my camp, and made me feel a lot better. I was blown away when we introduced ourselves and he said he was Motorcycle Michael. I had never met him in person, although I have heard about him for years.

     Anyway, when I told him about The Caldron, he said he had a book for me. It was about his time in jail for distributing acid. The first part of his book is here in this issue. The rest will follow. Thinking about him, as I read his book, and seeing what he had gone through, I thought of my other friends who had been taken down for distributing acid or other psychedelics.

     These folks and others who distributed psychedelics did so because they felt that they were healing and enlightening. They felt that anyone who used these medicines - some called them sacraments - to raise his or her consciousness should have ready access to them.

     Back in those days, we all felt that anyone who raised his or her consciousness ceased to be a part of the problem, became instead a part of the solution. We felt that if enough of us used these medicines to raise our consciousness, the world would become a better place. We knew we were doing holy work. We knew we were on a mission from God. We were trying to wake up and save the world. We could have done so too. We could have avoided all this hatred and violence that is permeating the world today. We still can. Perhaps it is time now to return to those psychedelics in order to focus upon exploring ourselves and our place in the world.


     I still follow the old ways. I still smoke when I have it. I had a dream once, a long time ago, in which these government agents were offering me the job of President of the United States. All I had to do was quit smoking marijuana. I refused. I guess, in retrospect, I made the right choice.

     I still go off by myself into the high mountains for a week or so and use acid or peyote to access deeper and deeper levels of consciousness and reality. Magic comes alive then.

     The following is an honest account of one such journey, the most important of my life.

Into the Darkness

     When I was a seven-year old boy, I died on an operating table. When I returned to life, I had lost all consiousness of myself and who I had been before my near death. However, that small boy that I had been, although lost, was still within me. He was hurt and scared, and his hurts and fears had long affected my life from the shadows into which he had fled.

     Thirty-two years later, after being in Jungian Analysis for many years and doing a lot of acid, always trying to become more conscious of who I was, I had finally come to the brink of a major breakthrough. All I had to do was follow that little boy still within me into his darkness. I was terrified to do this. I was also determined that I would do so even if it meant my death. My journey began in Berkeley, in 1972.

Reconciliation

     Karen and I began fighting early this morning, and we've been fighting ever since. We're both very angry. I want to leave the city and spend the summer in the mountains, and she wants to stay and finish her work in the city. She's really getting freaked. She scares me when she says that she wants to die. I tell her to get into her feelings, to go ahead and flip out. She does so, and it becomes very powerful between us. Out of this, we drop acid together, wanting to see where this energy is coming from and where it wants us to go with it.

     Then somehow, I'm back to the time of my childhood operations. I'm feeling again that terrible fear of being mutilated that I'd had then, when I'd first noticed the bandages covering my head. I'm terrified now. I'm really glad Karen is here with me. I've been afraid to face this and have been using both Karen and Edie to avoid dealing with it.

     I feel very sorry for the little boy I was then who had to endure all this pain and terror. I go back in time and calm him, tell him that he'll be all right, that he'll grow up to be a man. He calms out now, and I become him, remembering again how I was inside everyone's head back then and how I was always afraid of being found out, afraid of being different, like a hearing man among the deaf.

     I realize that I've been looking all my life for someone with whom I could share what I went through then. Karen has never been able relate to this side of myself. This is why Edie has become so important to me. A major part of myself, badly needing healing, wasn't included in my relationship with Karen. I tell Karen this now - and how important it is for me to be in touch with the hurt and scared child within myself.


Death Signs

     That night, after our trip, I dream that I find a dead bird in the garage. Karen's cat Sylvie has killed it. I pick it up....

     Later in the night, the thought comes to me, wakes me up even, that I'm going to be busted for drugs. "This is what I've been afraid of," I think, as I fall back to sleep.

     The next night, after a lazy, loving day, I'm in the lodge, stoned on grass and just floating on the sea of awareness, listening to the sounds of the world, when a voice says to me, "you'll be dead in two weeks." This really scares me. I'll be at our camp at Dinky Creek then, alone.

     Later, early the next morning, just before dawn, I have a vision of a man and I smoking together at Dinky. I knew that he and I would be with each other soon.


     My dream about Sylvie and the dead bird is talking about my relationship with Karen and Edie. Sylvie, the animal in Karen and me, has killed my spiritual relationship with Edie. I've lost her. I know this. Our relationship has died. Maybe by ourselves, she and I would have had a chance, but I was already with Karen.

     Waking up thinking that I'm going to be busted for drugs hits me hard. Actually, I don't really expect to be busted, not by the outer world cops anyway, not here in Berkeley. However, I do understand the message. I have been misusing medicines again. In particular, I've been using acid for personal power so that I might have relationships with two women at the same time, attempting even a three people marriage.

     When I first met Karen, she had just had a powerful experience in which she was sure she was going to die. Instead of dwelling upon the sadness of her life ending then, she had put herself and her life in order. After awhile though, she realized that the real message behind her feeling of impending death had been to get her to dance with it so that she might be able to live righteously in the here and now.

     Whatever sort of death comes to me in two weeks time, I'll be spending my time until then, like Karen, cleaning up my act and preparing for my end. I'll also be looking forward to smoking with my old friend Wanderer again.


Gypsy's Dead!

     Yesterday, walking home from Telegraph Avenue with Gypsy, I freaked out. I didn't know why then, but I called Gypsy to me and had her stay close. I was scared for both of us.


     Today, I see Gypsy across the street. I start to bring her into the house, but before I can even get outside, I hear a scream of brakes and a heavy thud. She's been hit!

     I'm really freaked now. I should have been warned by my feelings yesterday. I should have kept her in the house with me. A neighbor tells me that she was playing with Hooch, with Bob's dog, chasing him across the street.

     Suddenly I notice the guy who was driving. He's scared and being very apologetic. I start to draw my knife on him. I want to kill him. My friends grab me before I get it free of its sheath. I struggle against them, yelling at the man, telling him what he did by driving so fast, just so he could get home a few minutes early. I curse him. I curse God.

     I loved Gypsy more than anyone and she's gone. In just over a week, she and I would have left this city together and gone into the mountains to play together for the summer. It's like being a soldier with your best buddy getting killed in the last days of the war.


     We bury Gypsy in the backyard. Bob cries, but I can't, not yet, not here anyway. Before we even have her lifeless body covered, the ants are crawling all over her, preparing to do their work. I have never suffered such a loss. I'm dead inside.

     It doesn't make sense, nothing makes sense now. The meaning trip is a waste of my time. It's just a response to the fear trip. I'm finished with trying to figure out who I am and why. From now on, I'm just going to live my life one day at a time, without worrying about the why of things. I'm also going to be much more open to that hunting and gathering consciousness within me called Wanderer.

The Murderer

     Karen and I are at Dinky Creek now, our camp in the High Sierras. All day yesterday, I kept saying to myself, over and over, "I have to catch the murderer." I wasn't at all sure what I meant. But last night, the side of me that's connected with Edie came back to me. He wants to leave Karen and go be with Edie. He doesn't like Karen anymore because she scared Edie away. He wants to hurt her.

     He scares me. But I have to listen to him. I have to stay conscious of him; or else he'll work silently through me, hurting Karen and others without me even knowing.

     When I decided to be married to both Karen and Edie, I knew it might not work out. I knew then that I might have to decide between the two of them. Then, I decided not to decide. Now, I may have to. The trouble with this is that they may have already decided for me. Karen chased Edie away and asked me to stay with her. Edie ran and didn't ask me to come with her. So I stayed with Karen, and I hurt Edie. I've never decided. I've never had to. The side of me that would have chosen Edie is hurt, angry, and very dangerous now.

     It's very important that I stay in touch with my hurt and anger - both about Edie and about Gypsy - and not let it turn inwards where it will grow dark and poisonous and hurtful to others. If I let this happen, as my parents did, I'll end up defeated too. I was terribly hurt by the fight between Karen and Edie. I was doubly hurt by Gypsy's death. I've been feeling terrible too, realizing how my fear has used me, and how badly I've treated both Karen and Edie out of all this.


     Later.... I finally let go of control and put my murderous anger out upon Karen. I had to. It was turning cold and dangerous within me. We've fought all day now. I have my center back again, although she's lost hers by listening to and accepting my anger.


     Later still.... Karen and I have gotten past our negativity, at least for now, and are playing together at the big pool. She admits she blew it with the three of us. She thought I already knew she felt this way. I tell her that it means so much more to me when it's said in words. I feel more hopeful now for the three of us. Maybe Edie will still come up. Maybe we can all try again.


Death and Detachment

     I'm realizing from all that has been going on in my life lately that I need to become more detached. Don Juan tells Carlos that death is at the central core of each piece of knowledge. He tells Carlos that, when a man embarks upon the path of sorcery, he faces death at every instant, and that the only way such a man can survive is by becoming detached from everything, by accepting death as coming at any moment. When I become such a man, I'll be truly Wanderer.

     I'm not sure how to get to there. I do know one thing, that the simpler my life is, the higher I am. When I'm here at Dinky, living my simple daily life of ritual and play, it's easy for me to stay high and conscious. However, in the city with its complexities and demands, I'm rarely very high or even conscious at all.

     The simple life is the beginning of detachment.


     I'm concerned for my body. It's scaring me. I'm very tired. I have no energy at all. I have almost passed out twice. The first time, I became very dizzy and didn't know where I was. I thought maybe I was inside a boiler room. I don't know if my body is reflecting my inner turmoil or if something is wrong with body itself. I'm going to be very slow and cautious physically, especially when I'm alone here - as I will be soon.

     On my way back to camp, after being alone up Cow Creek, I stop and ask the Old One how I may become completely detached and is there anything wrong with my body? I'm answered with, "Live as if you are going to be dead by Friday." I remember I was told this when I was still back in Berkeley, told then by a voice in the air that I would be dead in two weeks - which is this coming Friday.


Alone

     I'm finally alone. Karen left yesterday. I'm back in camp now, and I'm physically exhausted. I have no strength at all. Earlier today, I was dizzy again and had to sit down. I'm continually losing my balance, falling, and missing my footing too. I'm feeling weaker by the minute. I'm tired and my head is hurting. I just want to lie down and sleep. I'm not sure that I'm going to smoke or drop acid today.


     I'm down at the lower pool now. I took a swim earlier to wake up, and now I'm sitting here, leaning against a friendly tree, reading Stephen Gaskin. After awhile, inspired by his words, I finally do drop a hit of acid.

     As I feel the acid coming on, I become very scared. I don't know why I'm so freaked, but I am. I pick up my stuff and run back to camp. But whatever is after me is here too. I can't find my center anywhere - there's nothing strong enough for me to center myself upon. I hope I'm not still this scared when it's dark.

     I almost left with Karen yesterday. I'm worried about Karen. I imagine she's been in a serious accident, maybe is even dying. A part of me wants me to believe all this, wants me to pack up all my stuff and head out to the phone at the trailhead, maybe even hitchhike all the way to Venice. A part of me wants to leave here, wants his Karen mommy. I'm very scared of being alone.


     I run to the Old One now, looking for support, for meaning. Why is this happening to me? I know it has to do with Karen being gone. She has been my main support for who I am. If she dies, who am I? I realize I'd better find this out while she lives, especially so she can enjoy me as I truly am. I begin to think I might be all right now.

     After awhile, I become somewhat calmer. I even begin to ramble about, enjoying the beauty around me. I end up sitting under a Juniper tree, one new to me, sitting high above where Cow and Dinky Creeks come together. The clouds are beautiful and try to calm me out, but I'm still completely freaked out. I still want to get up and run. I want to find some place where fear can't get at me. I feel so vulnerable here.


     If I can survive today, I'll be ready for anything. But I'm completely overwhelmed now from fighting both the acid and the fear. I'm really just fear himself on acid.

     I stop running. I can do this much anyway. I let go to the acid and the fear instead, trying to be as high as I can without denying the fear. I let go of being myself anymore. I become pure awareness. I begin to leave my body. I can see it below, as I float above the Juniper trees. I know that I can keep going and never come back to the fear and all the shit of my life. But something within me yells now and wakes me up, and suddenly I'm back in my body again, shaken but awed by the experience.

     I decide I need to walk about and be in my body now, or else I might go flying off again. I walk down to Cow Creek and dive into a deep pool, trying to center myself in my body. There's no sun down here by the creek, but I'm still warm from my day.

     The day is ending. I walk back up into the sun and lie on the rocks, feeling the warmth leaving the day, watching the feeding hawks wheeling high above.

The Visitor

     I've started my fire and have even made myself a good dinner. I'm much calmer now, although I know it isn't finished. I'm still scared. I'm taking care of myself for now though. It's dark, and I'm sitting here before the fire, everything done for the day. I'm about to smoke a joint, my first of the day.

     A man walks into my camp. He speaks to me from outside the fire circle, asks if he can share my fire. I tell him he's welcome, to come have a seat. At first I think he's of this world, but then I notice that I can see starlight through him. He's really here though. I ask who he is. "A wandering man, just a wanderer," he answers. I hear him with my ears too. He's really here.

     He's near my age, maybe somewhat older. It's hard to tell. He's loose and on the loose. I can tell this. I understand somehow that I'm going to be like him. I'm going to be loose and on the loose myself - in the mountains and on the road, with my life. I'm going to learn from him. He knows my fears, knows I'm beginning a path that he's been on and comfortable with for years. I ask him what he would do with my life now if he were me.

     "Live it. You want to wander, do so. Write your book, tell of your beginnings. Write another, of your travels, if you want. And don't worry about money, you won't need very much as a Wanderer."

     "You're me from the future, aren't you," I ask.

     "Yes, and it's really cold where I am now when I'm not here with you. You'll see. You're going to change fast from now on, really fast.

     I light my joint and start to pass it to him. I remember my dream of smoking with a man in the mountains. I know that he is somehow a part of my coming death. I smoke while he and I sit quietly together.

     After awhile, he says that he has to leave soon and that he has come here for a specific purpose. He's here to baby sit my body while I return in time to help the sick and dying little boy that I was, that I still am within. I wish him a good night and head for my sleeping bag now to find that little boy within me, still crying and freaked out in his lonely hospital bed of pain.

     I let go of my here and now, trusting my magical visitor to protect my body. I return in time, just in time really. The little boy is badly freaked, as I was earlier today, and he can't find his center no matter where he runs to in his mind. Seeing him falling through the darkness, I tell him that there is no bottom and to turn the falling into flying.


The Ants

     The next day I'm up early, and soon I'm down by the lower pool. I've been out of sorts all this morning, jumpy and bothered especially by the ants.

     Don Juan says that morning is a bad time for sorcerers, a time when we are most vulnerable, especially after first meeting with an ally. Last night I met mine. He just walked into my camp - that wanderer from my future.

     I end up at the Juniper tree where I was sitting yesterday, when I left my body and started to float away. That was extreme! And now, just as I leave to move on, I fall and slip on a rock, almost hurting myself badly. I feel danger all about me today.

     God, the ants are here too! Today's been very difficult for me. It's funny, I thought Edie would be in camp when I just passed through it. I'm still hoping she'll come here this time.

     I remember Karen saying how when you fight the ants, they think it's war and attack you back, but when you grab a handful and eat them instead, they understand they're prey and run away. Gypsy used to eat them, and they stayed away from her. I decide to eat a few to see for myself.

     I'm thinking about ants. I know they often symbolize anxiety and fear - "ants in your pants" or being "antsy." I realize I'm learning today not to fight my fears, but instead to eat them, to digest and turn them into positive and healing nourishment.

     I eat an ant, another one, then a third for Gypsy. I eat only the ones who come to me. I thought it would be weird but it's easy. "Okay fear, I'm done fighting with you. I'm eating you instead. I'm listening now. Speak."

     I'm afraid of being alone. What if I become hurt or sick? What about Karen, is she all right? Will she come back? Is she sleeping with Steve? If she is, will she use her diaphragm, or will I have to go through an abortion with her like I had to with Pam when she had an affair? Does Edie love me still? Will I ever see her again?

     I'm afraid to stay here and afraid to go back to the city. I'm afraid to be alone and afraid of people. I'm afraid Karen will leave me. I'm afraid Edie has left me. I'm afraid of the sun on my skin, of the mosquitoes, of making mistakes, of being a fool, and even of people knowing who I am. I'm afraid of almost everything and everyone and everywhere. I'm mostly afraid of myself.

     Wanderer speaks now, "Be patient and wait for your fear to end. It will go away as you wait with awareness."

     I don't understand, don't believe.


     Then understanding bursts upon me. Oh, this hurts! Gypsy's dead! That's what this is all about. When we buried her, there were all those ants crawling all over her, and she was dead and couldn't scare them away anymore by eating them. I remember seeing them crawling in her eyes and her nose and into her ears.

     Oh, this is terrible! I'm sitting here alone, crying and screaming, remembering. When Gypsy died, it was the first time I'd ever seen death, ever realized that it would be me there someday with the ants crawling all over me. I cry now for the longest time, remembering Gypsy and our love and times together. When I finally stop, I feel comforted and mothered, as if the world has been listening to my grief and has been holding me tenderly to her breast, letting me to feel again.

     When I'm finally still, Wanderer speaks again, "Death was and is still constellated in you. As long as you have feared to face death, even that of others, you've had to stay out of your body and have even had to hold off love so that death couldn't take anyone you cared for."

     I see that this is true, I would never visit my great aunts or my grandmothers as they lay dying. I would never look upon the face of death. I've always been afraid of death. This has been my central fear.

     Wanderer goes on, "And if you do give your heart to someone, as you have with Karen, you make him or her too important and hold onto them too tightly. Yet you still have the fear fantasies. Also, you've never been physically brave, always fearing being hurt or death. You've never risked, never taken chances. You've never really lived. And all this unlived life in you wants out, is trying to kill you, their jailer."

     I ask what I can do. He says, "begin with always being in your body. Also, let people closer without hanging on to them, without always being afraid to leave because they might die while you're gone. Take chances, calculated risks, and be willing to die. Accept your fear of death, feel it, taste it, eat it, let it fill you - then overcome it."

     I eat another ant or two while I digest the meaning in the air. I'm not afraid anymore. I'm ready for tomorrow, for the day I'm supposed to die. Maybe I'll see you soon, Gypsy.


Wanderer Understood

     I understand now that Wanderer lives outside of time and that he always knew of Gypsy's death. I knew of it too, at least near the end, because of my connection through Wanderer. This is why I was so anxious for her the day before she died.

     "You're right, son, you're learning," Wanderer interjects. "You have glimpses into the future. You can already see it coming. When you have learned that you have no control at all over events and that everything is already set, then you'll begin to see even further and deeper into time."

     I begin to understand. I feel awe at Wanderer's wisdom. "Who are you? Where do you come from," I ask him.

     "I'm you at your best, at your furthest reach."

     I imagine that Wanderer is a future self, come back in time to teach and guide me just as I've been reaching back to teach and guide myself as that scared, young boy that I was then and still am within. I ask Wanderer, "is this why you are here now?"

     "Yes. This is the second time in your life you will face death."

     "Where will it come from," I ask.

     "From yourself, and soon."

     When I was seven, I died, and, when I came back to life, there was no connection between who I'd been before and who I became from the experience. I ask, "Will it be the same this time?"

     Wanderer answers, "It will be the same yet different. There will be death and renewed life. I'm here with you as the bridge, just as you were and are with the little boy."

     I keep thinking of Edie today, remembering the last time that she and I dropped acid together, when she wanted to stop her breathing and die. I told her then to focus upon her breathing, to see that it goes on and on without her, knowing that if she could experience this, she would be able to leave her body without needing it to die first.

     Tomorrow I am going to follow that little boy into his darkness. I'll be with him, while Wanderer will be here with me, protecting me and anchoring me to the here and now. I realize that this is what I wanted of Edie, to be my guide for this, knowing now though, that if I'd had my childish, frightened way, I would have ended up being always dependent upon her. Being here alone with Wanderer, dependent upon no one but myself, I can be whole.

The Dark Night Journey

     I'm back in the shelter again, already in my sleeping bag. It's almost dark, and I'm tired of wandering around in the rain. I'm not even bothering with a fire this evening. I'm not at all hungry, what with all that peyote.

     It's been a very hard day. I'm still freaked out. If I do survive all this, it'll be from having stuck to my guns. I've stayed here, in spite of all those incredible fears that have chased me from one end of this creek to the other. I didn't run home to mommy. I wanted to. Even now, I'm still having thoughts of Karen being dead or with someone or else leaving me. I am beginning to suspect though that there's an ulterior motive behind this panic.

     It's dark already. Using a candle, my flashlight sometimes, I writing this while I'm rereading my most recent notes - all those I've written since I met Edie. I'm finding it really hard to face myself again, but I do want to look at what I've done in my relationships with both Karen and Edie. And I would like to remain objective and clear while I'm doing so. I just want to see who I've been and what I've done.


     From rereading my notes, I feel that I have been extremely inflated. Worse yet, I have misused my high for personal power. Don Juan would say that power has defeated me. I have definitely caused hurt and pain in others out of this inflated opinion of myself.

     I keep having these fear fantasies about Karen. But now, I'm beginning to see how they've been keeping me from feeling my love for Edie, from being truthful with myself even more. I ask God to take these fear fantasies off me. I took a heavy rock off a young tree by the creek yesterday, and today it grows upwards and strong again. "Please take this rock of fear off me now so that I may also thrive."

     I'm thinking now that Edie supported my inflation. Maybe that was part of the attraction - maybe a big part of what I really needed from her. She did see me in a very positive light. It also meant a lot to me that she was into acid. She was the first person I had found since Karen who could really connect to me on acid.

     Am I inflated because of acid? I don't know, but there is one thing I do know about me and acid - when I am on it, I'm always completely open and honest and brave and loving. The only trouble is that I can't always be that high without it. So the question really is - can I be trusted with acid in the future, or will I fuck up with it again, as I have with Karen and Edie?

     I admit that I actively worked to get Edie into a three people marriage with Karen and me. I misused my power. If I hadn't pushed, she might not have run away scared. I might not be here alone now. I have to accept the consequences of my actions. I have to be honest with myself. In particular, I can see now that my thing with Edie really weakened Karen's and my connection. I can also see that Karen and I have worked hard and lovingly to maintain and even to enhance and renew our marriage in spite of all that we have put it through.


     One of the main reasons that I'm still imagining that Karen has died is because Gypsy did die. Death does exist and can take my loved ones away. Also, by focusing upon Karen and my fears, I've been avoided an important truth - that I still do love Edie and still want to be her lover. I didn't know my relationship with Edie would hurt Karen. I really thought that she wanted the marriage too. It would have hurt me though. I know this. Her affair with Brian did hurt me, even before she told me about it.

     In spite of how we've all fucked it up, our three people marriage was an alchemical vessel for our mutual transformation. Even if it failed, it has still changed each of us immensely. It's definitely the catalyst behind what I'm going through now.

     I'm thinking back to that fateful night when Karen and Edie had their terrible fight. We were all on acid then, and I was somehow able to achieve a detachment that I couldn't live up to afterwards. I felt their angers, mine too, but I was above it all then. Later though, my anger went underground and turned really destructive in my relationship with Karen - and without me even being aware of it.

     At least Karen and I were able to work that out when she was here with me last week, before she left for L.A. She heard my anger then and admitted that she blew it with Edie.


     Central to all this drama is my supposed craziness. Am I completely inflated and insane, or am I really working to bring to consciousness a part of myself that I left on the operating table when I died thirty-two years ago? Is my fear only a reaction to my obvious inflation, or is it also a sign that I'm getting closer to who I truly am - closer to the fire?

     I keep coming back to my fear of being alone. This has always been my main fear. I've manipulated both Karen and Edie so that I would never have to be alone - and here I am now, without even Gypsy. It's my karma. I'm beginning to see this.

     It isn't so much that I'm afraid for Karen. I'm really afraid to be alone without her. And behind this fear of being alone is the fear of what will come to me out of the darkness. I want to know all that I knew as that young boy. I want to follow him into the darkness, but I am really scared. I've avoided being alone for a long while now, knowing that the darkness was always lurking just out of the light. I'm alone now though. I've stopped running. I'm waiting for death.

     I remember back to that day, after Edie had left, when, after fighting all day, Karen and I tripped in the lodge in Berkeley. I remember being surprised in the middle of all that to encounter the scared little boy I had been. He saw me then too and got an image of a man better than his father, followed that image somehow to me, became me, as he and I have become one. I started to get my center back from Karen on that trip, started to get in touch again with my own destiny.


     Ever since I dropped acid two very long days ago, I've been completely freaked - and it has never let up. Writing in this notebook has been all that has kept me sane, all that has kept me objective and open. Without my writing, I'd already be over the edge.

     I just smoked some grass for the first time today. I've been sort of hesitant. I'm glad I did though. For one thing, it finally settles my stomach. "Thanks Edie," I whisper aloud to the night, remembering how much she likes to smoke and get into her head whenever she's doing psychedelics.

     It's really weird how out of touch I can get. I have dreams of death. In one of them, I'm told I'm going to die this very day. Then Gypsy died, and I still blocked on death and my fear of it. It took the ants a whole day to help me get in touch with myself, to help me to see how, being afraid of death, I've been afraid of everything.

     Earlier this evening, just before dark, I found these four beautiful rocks down by the creek. Someone or something must have placed them there. They weren't there in the morning, and I've been close to camp all day, sick from the peyote and scared as I am. I know they are somehow important. The little tree down there that was bent over by that other rock is important too, symbolizing, as it does, my present condition. I'm like a new tree myself, burdened with my fear of death.


     Suddenly, in the middle of my dark night, reality itself takes on a weird charge, become quite uncanny. I feel something strange in the air. Death is out there, nearby, stalking me. I hear a raspy cough. I see a darting shadow. Another. I remember my dream of the vampire stalking me. It's him again. He's out there, haunting me. I pull out my hunting knife, my vampire slaying knife, and hold it ready.

     Death's everywhere outside the shelter. Someone or something is running about, laughing insanely, though the dark and dangerous night. There are shouts and voices, almost overheard conversations. I have my big knife. I'm waiting. When death comes to swallow me, I'll cut my way out through his belly and swim back to the surface of life.

     Now there are terrible sounds, like a big and ugly machine, like a factory at work. These sounds attack my belly. I feel as if I'm in for what happened to Carlos that night the ally attacked him in the mountains. Like him, I'll survive.

     Reading Don Juan has really prepared me for all this. When we enter this separate reality, where nothing is as it seems, we survive only by having achieved an inner detachment from life and its games. I also know that the face this other reality turns towards me will reflect the face I show it. If I show fear, I will encounter something fearful. Understanding this, I try to be accepting - and aware.

     I'm thinking of my vampire dream again. This week has actually been a reenactment of that dream. My fear has been the vampire. It has hunted and haunted me, and I have run. But I've stopped running now. With my knife and all that it symbolizes, I've managed to overcome the vampire once again, cutting through my fears to the truth of her and me. Karen is alive and well, she hasn't been with Steve or anyone else, and she will be here in a few days. It's easy to feel her loving energy now that I've overcome my fears, now that I am clear again.


     I'm at peace now. I close my eyes. I see a boy on a swing, falling over, falling into the darkness. I see him turn the falling into flying. I fly after him, and, when he lands on a nearby rock, I follow him into the cave. I tell him who I am. He already knows. "I've stayed here, waiting for you to come for me, as you did once before. It's been very scary here, and I want to leave with you this time. I want to grow up too." I tell him that I have felt his fear - I've been running from it for days - but that, until tonight, I've thought it was mine. I reassure him that this time he will leave with me. We will go as one.


     It's becoming light outside. It's almost dawn - a new day. I've been up all night. I'm very tired. But somehow, I know that the little boy's rock will be somewhere by that little tree that I rescued yesterday. Something very powerful happened down there at that tree, with the four rocks and all, something very important for me.

     I walk down there now. I see that my little tree friend is still sturdy and growing. He just needed a little help. There are no new rocks about him, but in a nearby hole, one several feet above the water line - the one that looks as if it might have been used by the early people who lived around here to grind acorns for flour - in that one, there's a very beautiful small rock. I reach in and grasp it....

     Immediately I have images of my first visit to Dinky Creek, years ago. I came here with Pam and two others. I remember how I lost my wedding ring that first day. I fell out of love with Pam then and fell in love with Dinky, all in the same day. From then on, I've loved all these mountains, and I always will. Fate and my inner teacher Wanderer have conspired together, over time, to bring me back here again.

     I'm beaten death once again. I'm reborn, the young boy and I are one and whole again. And I will continue to survive and even thrive though my love of these mountains. They alone can heal me - these mountains, these rocks, these creeks, and the beautiful sky. They alone endure and will always be here for me.

     By Eugene Marks