Dear David,
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I
pick up this fine looking treasure bag, and forgetting Emerson's dictum
"upon finding a treasure I would leave it untouched", I commit the
folly of inspecting, smelling, stuff it quickly into my pocket and
continue on my way. Pulling it out a few times as I go along to make
sure I am not mistaken with what I now have in my possession, when I
board the elevator to the 16th floor a fed ex delivery man gets on for
the ride and he looks over at me and says "that's the best smelling
cologne, what is it?" I apologize and reply "so sorry, that's workout
sweat stinking this place up." "No no I'm serious, it smells amazing." I
recall the treasure in my pocket and pull it out and hand it to the
delivery man and say "I think you mean this." He takes a whiff and says
"yea, that's it."
And so the angels and demons
watching over my karma decide to give me access to something, something
interesting, and I buy rolling papers and watch a youtube video on how
to roll a joint but my joint is so bad that I waste an entire bud and
the high is poor and quick, like paying a visit to a prostitute who is
tired and jaded because you are her 3rd customer of the night and you
roll out of the musty bed feeling cheap and used. I freshen up the
experience by using half the buds in the bag to make cannabis butter and
soon after I am gazing into an 8"x8" pan of chocolate brownies cooked
with the green tinted stuff.
I
wrote 2 short stories in three days, one on gambling and the other
about sex (what else is there in life?) Definitely not professional,
but I believe them to be decent when compared against my other efforts.
I
read a few books, Keep the Aspidistra Flying by Orwell, Great Soul
(biography of Gandhi), a Tibetan book on meditation, Sade's 120 Days of
Sodom, Klein and Wagner by Hesse, Bukowski short stories. I have the
vague impression they were all high as a space ship when writing, or
that they had access to the frequency which my mind can get close to
while high on the brownies.
I did a week
of "walking doubles" - doing the 7 mile route at both dawn and dusk. It
was during this activity that I felt the angels and demons had their
fancy tickled because when I would reach the Lake Shore Path my mind
would more often than not access what I call the "God Frequency", a
state of mind where a third eye is opened, "the third eye gets the pie"
right? I could now reach things which have for a long while been
distant and locked, interesting things - time, space, material, the
intertwining of life and death.I felt the immense terror which will
surely accompany me a few moments before the arrival of the departure
time of awareness. Even though I spend most of my moments in acceptance
of imminent death, I cannot feel the intense fear and terror in my
normal moments and so I am lulled into a soporific state of, if not
exactly denial, a miles long distance between myself and death. During
last night's walk the colors were rich as butter and time stretched out
and with each step an eternity of will and thoughts flooded my
perceptions and my muscles were a soft mass of pleasure. I stopped at
Trader Joe's and dodged the Friday evening crowd and at the counter the
clerk gave me the look of eternity. The trees and the geese, the dogs
and the soggy grass let it be known that they are inside of me and I
inside of them and a switching of consciousness is easily achieved.
No-Time went on forever and a squirrel looked up at me and said don't
forget to blink.
This morning I was out
somewhat late on the walking path and by miraculous luck I latched onto a
point close to the God Frequency, and then I remembered! Thirty years
ago I had discovered this frequency by accident and for a blissful two
days was plugged into a type of cosmic consciousness where doubt is
dulled and one walks finely balanced between the finite and the
infinite, one foot in the here and now, the other stretched out far into
space where philosophy, religion, history and art mix with the soul, a
cosmic soup which never goes dry. Thirty years passed where I was always
on the hunt, searching for the frequency where dreams come out into the
light, but always falling short of the mark. I meditated, read the
words of the sages and gurus, the past thirty years having been lived on
the energy spawned in the wake of that light and precise balancing act.
As I walked through Lincoln Park among the old trees and the snowy
fields I landed close to the God Frequency, the point and place where
ideas, images, stories and music originate. Thirty fucking years! I was
certain I would never find it again, that long side-wise glimpse of the
angels and demons laughing and dancing, pulling the strings of wonderful
and awful karma. I don't have to worry about having enough time because
time is plentiful on the God Frequency, I can be all things and all
places and all people and that horrible stench of the turbulent time
river rolling ever onward is just a drop of salty ocean water, where
consciousness is light as air and bodies come and go with the winter
wind.
On the beach I get into push up
position and my muscles are relaxed and my mind covers the galaxy and my
fingers dig into the sand 1,2,3,4,5.....when am I going to stop, will
my arms get sluggish, 6,7,8,9... there is no resistance, I can do 100
push ups with the ease of taking 100 steps. Welcome to the God Frequency
so say the angels and the demons, I stand up fresh and happy ready for
anything, even the terror of those final moments when I walk upon the
bridge which connects life and death -
Banzai!
Finding a smooth flat stone, I
hold it in hand, excited, confident, and let it fly......oh my god,
there it goes, skimming the surface, skip skip skip, a perfect balance
achieved and the stone is hurtling unimpeded, lost, gone, forever and
ever flying to the stars.