Where I grew up, exploring the natural environment was the name of the game and Irvine had more nature than it had urban sprawl. One of our favorite locations to spend our summer days was on the back bay of Newport Beach. The Back Bay was an ever-changing landscape determined by the constant ebb and flow of the tidal waters and surrounded by massive bluffs, which set the stage for an amazingly diverse ecosystem. At one point of the year, it would be filled with water and at another, only the cracked mud beds would be left where the water once stood. Early one summer morning during the dry season, a group of five young explorers set out on an ill-fated expedition. We rode our bikes as far as we could and then continued on foot. Soon we came upon a large muddy area. It appeared to be a solid surface and rather than walk all the way around it, we decided to press on straight through the middle. When we got to about halfway through, each footstep became more difficult than the last and with each step, we were slipping deeper into the mud. We had all seen many a jungle movie where the hero becomes trapped in quicksand and with that thought in mind, panic began to set in. All five of us frantically struggled to get to the other side. Covered to the knees in mud, all of us made it except for DJ. He was still about 40 feet out and sinking fast. As a young teenager, DJ was six and one half feet tall and almost half that wide. We grabbed the largest stick we could find and proceeded to form a human chain across the mud in an effort to pull him to freedom, but he was in it up to his thighs and not going anywhere. At this point, the rest of us quickly compiled our vast knowledge of quicksand etiquette and told DJ, “Two of us are going for help and the other two will stay here with you, but whatever you do, try to move as little as possible". This was before the days of cell phones and the closest telephone was at the Y.M.C.A. at the top of a very tall bluff. We eventually completed the trek to the top of the bluff and called the fire department for help. We led the firemen down to where DJ was stuck and now he had sunk to just above his waist. They laid out long extension ladders and crawled out to him in an attempt to set him free, but no matter what they tried, they just couldn't seem to get enough leverage to pull him out. By this time, it appeared as if the whole Newport Beach fire department was on the scene. I noticed someone who appeared to be the fire chief discussing the situation with several other rescue workers and then after several minutes, a police helicopter appeared on the horizon. The helicopter hovered over DJ and then lowered a rope with a rescue harness to the firemen below. They attached the harness around DJ's shoulders and waist and then crawled back along the extension ladder. You could hear the copter's engine revving up as it attempted to pull DJ free, but nothing was moving. Just then the pilot gunned the engine and with the loudest popping noise I had ever heard, DJ's huge body went flying upward followed by a dark cloud of mud. DJ's body flew so high into the air that he nearly hit his head on the landing skids. Then he plummeted back down and bounced around as if he was bungee jumping until he was eventually lowered safely back to the ground. Besides the emotional scarring, he was no worse for wear and we all had a great story to share that evening when we arrived home. As I look back at it now, I believe the lesson to be taken away from this adventure is that sometimes Dude, it’s better to take the long way around.
One aspect of my life that I have always felt a great deal of gratitude for is that I have been able to maintain long-lasting relationships with many of my childhood friends. One of those is my good buddy DJ. He was the first person that I met on the day we moved to Redwood Tree Lane and we have made an effort to maintain our relationship throughout the years. Although he started his career as a popular on-air disc jockey in the Palm Springs radio market, he eventually followed his love of driving into the trucking industry and since then, has driven for pretty much every touring rock act out there. Recently, while on tour with Megadeth, he blew through town and we had few hours to catch up. He informed me that he was an avid reader of my blog (that makes three) and asked why I had never written a story about him. Well here you go, buddy, this may not be the story you wanted me to write, but in the words of the Rolling Stones "you can't always get what you want".
Where I grew up, exploring the natural environment was the name of the game and Irvine had more nature than it had urban sprawl. One of our favorite locations to spend our summer days was on the back bay of Newport Beach. The Back Bay was an ever-changing landscape determined by the constant ebb and flow of the tidal waters and surrounded by massive bluffs, which set the stage for an amazingly diverse ecosystem. At one point of the year, it would be filled with water and at another, only the cracked mud beds would be left where the water once stood. Early one summer morning during the dry season, a group of five young explorers set out on an ill-fated expedition. We rode our bikes as far as we could and then continued on foot. Soon we came upon a large muddy area. It appeared to be a solid surface and rather than walk all the way around it, we decided to press on straight through the middle. When we got to about halfway through, each footstep became more difficult than the last and with each step, we were slipping deeper into the mud. We had all seen many a jungle movie where the hero becomes trapped in quicksand and with that thought in mind, panic began to set in. All five of us frantically struggled to get to the other side. Covered to the knees in mud, all of us made it except for DJ. He was still about 40 feet out and sinking fast. As a young teenager, DJ was six and one half feet tall and almost half that wide. We grabbed the largest stick we could find and proceeded to form a human chain across the mud in an effort to pull him to freedom, but he was in it up to his thighs and not going anywhere. At this point, the rest of us quickly compiled our vast knowledge of quicksand etiquette and told DJ, “Two of us are going for help and the other two will stay here with you, but whatever you do, try to move as little as possible". This was before the days of cell phones and the closest telephone was at the Y.M.C.A. at the top of a very tall bluff. We eventually completed the trek to the top of the bluff and called the fire department for help. We led the firemen down to where DJ was stuck and now he had sunk to just above his waist. They laid out long extension ladders and crawled out to him in an attempt to set him free, but no matter what they tried, they just couldn't seem to get enough leverage to pull him out. By this time, it appeared as if the whole Newport Beach fire department was on the scene. I noticed someone who appeared to be the fire chief discussing the situation with several other rescue workers and then after several minutes, a police helicopter appeared on the horizon. The helicopter hovered over DJ and then lowered a rope with a rescue harness to the firemen below. They attached the harness around DJ's shoulders and waist and then crawled back along the extension ladder. You could hear the copter's engine revving up as it attempted to pull DJ free, but nothing was moving. Just then the pilot gunned the engine and with the loudest popping noise I had ever heard, DJ's huge body went flying upward followed by a dark cloud of mud. DJ's body flew so high into the air that he nearly hit his head on the landing skids. Then he plummeted back down and bounced around as if he was bungee jumping until he was eventually lowered safely back to the ground. Besides the emotional scarring, he was no worse for wear and we all had a great story to share that evening when we arrived home. As I look back at it now, I believe the lesson to be taken away from this adventure is that sometimes Dude, it’s better to take the long way around.
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During the past few years (and I believe the majority of my life), I have been on a sacred quest for knowledge and enlightenment. I have shared many of these adventures here with all (both) of you, but I feel like I am still in the process of fully understanding the true meaning of some of them. Some are so deeply personal to me that I may never be able to put them into words. Nonetheless, I have put together these basic tips that I make every effort to follow in my own life and although I may not be the first human to have pondered many of these time-honored tenets, I do hope one or two of them might come in as handy for you as they have for me.
10) Dance Naked in the Rain: Try to make your list of "things I did" much longer than the list of "things I never tried". One of the most common regrets of people looking back at their lives is the realization that they have not accomplished many of their dreams. I'm not saying that you have to accomplish all of your dreams, but while you're still healthy, attempt as many as you can. I promise you won't regret it. 9) Never Take MDMA When it's Just You and Another Dude: I'm not disclosing exactly how I know this (not that there's anything wrong with that), but let's just say me and a buddy of mine have a hard time making direct eye contact these days. I'm just glad that stuff wasn't around the night I ended up in a hot tub with Ron Jeremy and Jim Varney. 8) Follow Your Bliss: You can consider yourself living a blessed life if you’ve been lucky enough to find a way to make a living doing something you really love, but the truth is that the majority of working folks out there do not love their job. The good news is that you don't have to; you just have to love your life. So many men in our society have been conditioned to believe that their sole responsibility in life is to bring home the bacon and they inevitably end up regretting all the so-called "little things" they missed out on. 7) Never Take Erectile Dysfunction Medication Unless You Actually Suffer from Erectile Dysfunction: Not many folks know this, but back in the day prior to the invention of the little blue pill, there was an injectable remedy available. It never garnered much popularity due to the fact that just prior to sexual activity, it required one to inject it directly into what I affectionately refer to as "Tiny Dancer". A buddy of mine (you might know him as "The Legend"), convinced a friend of his to let him try out his medication. What started out as a fun evening of working through every position in the Kama Sutra quickly turned into a forty-eight-hour nightmare. 6) Be Sincere. Say What You Mean and Mean What You Say: I'm not saying you have to be completely honest all the time; everyone loves a well-embellished story now and again, right? Just be proud to show the world your authentic self. It's really the only truly unique thing you have to share. Always remember to err on the side of joy and happiness. 5) You Never Regret a Walk So Keep Moving: Everyone knows it's much harder to hit a moving target. I learned this one from my Pop. One day he just sat down and never got back up again. It wasn't due to any physical ailment; he just gave up on walking. Even if you can't run a marathon anymore, try to do something that gets you moving every day. 4) Live Your Happy Thoughts: Some people say that all you have to do to be happy is to think happy thoughts, but I believe it takes a little more effort than that. Every time someone asks me how I'm doing, I reply, “FanFreakinTastic”, even when I'm having the day from hell. Somehow it makes my day seem a little less horrible. It's just a matter of creating your own reality. 3) Make New Friends, but Keep the Old: Make a genuine effort to stay in contact with the people you love. It's easy to get caught up in our own busy lives and lose track of the people who are a big part of who we are today. One of the things that I'm most proud of is the fact that I'm still in contact with many of the friends I made in junior high school. In the end, it all comes down to love and relationships. 2) Get Over Yourself: Live in the moment. The past is history and the future does not exist. Stop wasting time worrying about what other people think of you. The truth is they’re probably not thinking about you at all. Instead, spend more time disproving all the negative things you believe to be true about yourself. Make it a point to never hold a grudge and never let a grudge hold you; the only one who is truly hurt by a grudge is the one who holds onto it. My brother's favorite quote is "Don't Sweat the Petty Stuff and Don't Pet the Sweaty Stuff". 1) Surround Yourself with People You Love and People Who Love You: I saved this one for last because I think it is the most important of all. Even if you feel as if you have no one to love, keep in mind that it only takes one, so get off your ass and go find someone. Join a club, be a volunteer or check out a local Meetup group. Community is all around you. You also might want to take a look at the possible reasons why you find yourself sans friends. Remember you have to be a friend in order to have friends. I truly believe that our it’s SOUL purpose for existing in this world is to interact with one another in a loving way. Remember to laugh long, loud and frequently. Anyone who has known me for a while knows that besides my short stint on the nude bowling tour and that one magical season at the shuffleboard courts, I'm not really the athletic type. I'm not saying that I haven't led a pretty active lifestyle, but just that I've never actually made that second payment on many a health club membership. I decided to change all that about three New Year’s resolutions ago. I resolved to hunker down and build a better dude.
I decided I would start off easy and then slowly progress down the path to physical fitness. I dug up an old beginning yoga video on VHS (yes, I still own a VHS, but I'm proud to say I gave up my Betamax over six months ago) and began a strict stretching routine every morning before breakfast. I had dabbled in yoga throughout the years (mostly as a way to meet chicks), but what I soon came to understand was that if you go as long as I had without stretching your major muscle groups, it can be a rather painful endeavor. I had always heard the expression "no pain, no gain" and like so many other great athletes before me, I decided I would just tough it out and play through the pain. I quickly found myself becoming bored with yoga alone and decided to ramp up my daily regimen by adding a little cardio. Under a deep pile of tried on but not worn on that particular day woman's clothing, my amazingly well-equipped girlfriend had hidden a stationary bike that she had purchased on the last day of an exercise equipment convention many years earlier. I developed my own exercise plan that I like to call "The Jon Stewart Spin Class". It consisted of playing the previous evenings recording of The Daily Show while riding the bike. The trick was that during the actual show, I would keep an even and steady pace from a seated position, but as soon as the commercials started I would tighten down the resistance, stand up and power through until the show started up again. That's when I started to notice a growing pain in my neck and shoulders, but being a bit naïve to ways of working out, I just shrugged it off as par for the course and continued to play through. My next bright idea was to add "Decline Pushups" to the mix. I started off with ten, then twenty-five, then fifty and by the end I was doing one hundred pushups every morning. I was losing weight and my pecs were firmer than they had ever been. The only problem was that as I increased my repetitions, my pain level increased exponentially. Finally, the constant pain started to become practically unbearable and it was even affecting my sleep patterns because I couldn't find a sleep position that didn't hurt. At that point, I decided to take a little break from my workout routine and figure out just what the heck was going on. As it turns out, with all that enthusiasm to transform myself into middle-aged Adonis, I had unknowingly inflamed a herniated cervical disk injury I had suffered ten years earlier as a result of a traffic accident. My doctor recommended that I start going to physical therapy twice a week and I soon learned that my problem wasn't the exercise itself, but the way that I was going about it. You see, I was so intense about my work out that I was tensing up every muscle in my body, even the ones I wasn't working on. When I figured that one out, it forced me to examine how I was approaching other aspects of my life and what I found surprised me. I've always considered myself to be a pretty laid back guy, but when it comes to things like driving or typing or working out, I'm a pretty intense dude. For instance, I discovered that when driving, I hold the wheel in a G.I. Joe Kung Fu Death Grip, not to mention the fact that I have the posture of a Neanderthal. Through physical therapy, I'm learning new exercises to gently strengthen my muscle tissue as well as to take notice of situations where I'm tensing up or practicing bad posture. Every day, I'm getting a better handle on how to control my pain and if I get off track, I always fall back on the advice of The Dude. "Take It Easy Man". Two dear friends of mine recently paid me a great honor by asking me to officiate at their wedding. Since I am an ordained Dudeist priest and member in good standing of the Church of the Latter Day Dude, I humbly accepted their offer. I later realized that prior to accepting the gig, in the spirit of transparency and full disclosure; I should have discussed the events of my first attempt at bestowing the vows of holy matrimony.
It all started when my work buddy (the same dude that suggested I become a dudeist priest in the first place) talked me into playing on a pool league at a local country western bar. There was this young guy on our team and after consuming several Jagermeisters together while waiting for our next game, we became fast friends. Months after the league had ended with me vowing to never play in a pool league at a country and western bar EVER again, I got a call from this guy’s fiancé. They had decided to tie the knot and wanted this dude perform the ceremony. I have to say that I was a little surprised by the offer and went on to explain that although I would love to perform the ceremony for them, the truth is I had never done anything like this before. She told me that all they wanted was a short, simple, non-denominational ceremony and that they both thought I would be wonderful at it. I told her I’d do a little research and get back to her with a couple of pre-written ceremonies that she could choose from and she could make any changes she liked to the wording. I emailed several possibilities and she replied back that the first one was perfect and besides substituting the names, no changes were needed. I told her that I would start memorizing the ceremony and to let me know when they set the date for the wedding rehearsal. She wrote back to explain that they weren’t planning a traditional rehearsal, but if I’d be willing to show up a little early on the day of the wedding, everyone would be there and we could go over it prior to the ceremony. On the blessed day, my Amazingly Supportive Girlfriend and I arrived early as planned. I was wearing my white 501’s and a Mexican wedding shirt, trying to look as priestly as possible. The first problem was that we knew absolutely no one. The bride and groom were nowhere to be found and my buddy from work was running late and wouldn’t be there until just before the ceremony was scheduled to begin. After about 45 minutes of standing there looking stupid while everyone was trying to figure out who the idiot all dressed in white was, I decided to start asking around as to the location of the bride. Eventually, I located the mother of the bride, so I explained to her that I would be performing the ceremony and needed to speak to the bride. Her mother very nicely informed me that there had been some wardrobe and hairstyling malfunctions, but that she would let the bride know that I had arrived and would get me in to see her as soon as possible. That was the last I saw of that woman until I heard the DJ begin the wedding march. I assumed my place at the altar and decided to stick to the script and hope for the best. As the bride walked toward me escorted by her father, I still didn’t realize that the ceremony I was about to perform didn’t include the part where I would ask “Who gives this Woman?” I stuck to my script like a champ, but it became increasingly apparent that something was not right due to the fact that the bride was making bizarre facial expressions trying to get me to recognize that her father was still standing next to her and looking very uncomfortable. I knew by then it was too late in the ceremony to go back and luckily, by the time we got to the I Do’s, the father of the bride had retreated to a neutral position just behind the happy couple. After it was all over, I felt as if I had ruined this couple’s wedding day, but the bride was very sweet and made a point to come over and thank me for performing such a wonderful ceremony. Now a word for my dear friends who have asked me to perform their wedding ceremony: This dude would be honored to officiate at your wedding, but after reading this, just keep in mind there’s still time to hire a professional. I had heard the name Uber before, but I really thought that ride sharing was just some trendy gimmick for hipsters and drunks. It wasn’t until I ended up going to a convention in Denver that I realized that this just might be the transportation mode of the future. This was going to be a short trip and since I was able to book a room on the grounds of the convention center I planned to forego the expense and hassle of renting a car and just use public transportation. How hard could it be? I’d just purchase a ticket at the friendly ground transportation counter in the airport, jump on one of the buses out front and voila in about thirty minutes I’d be at my hotel safe and sound. After originally getting on the wrong bus, two missed transfers, sitting next to a stinky homeless person, a two mile walk from the closest bus stop and five hours later I came to the conclusion that maybe the bus wasn’t the best choice after all.
That evening, after taking a well-deserved nap, I checked out the local live music guide and to my delight, discovered that one of my favorite Austin groups, “Band of Heathens”, was scheduled to play downtown. I went down to the lobby bar and while eating dinner, I told the story of my harrowing day on the bus to the bartender and said that I was planning on taking a cab to the show. She suggested, “Why not just order an Uber instead? They’re faster, cheaper, cleaner, and the driver is someone just like you and me trying to earn a couple extra bucks.” I thought, “What the hell, it couldn’t be any worse than the bus” and proceeded to download the app. The app already knew where I was and all I had to do was to enter my destination. The app even told me the driver’s name. In about fifteen minutes, a car pulled up in front of the hotel and a young well-dressed gentleman stepped out and asked “Are you Walter?” to which I replied “You must be Jimmy.” I got into the front seat of his well-kept, late model vehicle and off we went. On the way, we discussed the local music scene and what sights I should try to see while in town. The best part was that when we arrived at the venue, there was no scrambling around to figure out payment because that was all handled by the app. I just got out of the car and shouted to Jimmy, “Hey Holmes Smell Ya Later”. From the look on his face, I’m guessing he was too young to get the Fresh Prince reference. After being seated at the show, I opened the app back up to review my charges and found that the fee was much less than I had anticipated. The app then presented me with the opportunity to rate the driver and of course I gave him “Five Stars” (Everyone knows that anything less than five stars is a negative.) I tried to add an additional tip, but quickly discovered that there was no way to do that within the app and I know now that Uber even tells their drivers not to accept cash tips. After that ride, I had pretty much drunk the ridesharing Kool-Aid and since my current I.T. contract had slowed to a crawl and I was still waiting on my first royalty check from my writing, I decided I was going to change the world one ride share at a time.. I signed up online, watched the 30 minute training video and in just a couple of days, I had cleared my background check and was ready to hit the road. As soon as I got out there, I quickly realized that this wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. First, the only money to be made was bar closing hours and weekends. Sure, I’d get the occasional airport run and grocery store drop-off during the weekdays, but I’d spend most of my time and gas trying to find the optimum location to wait for the next call and waiting is how I spent most of my time. I did the math and I was earning about five dollars an hour, not counting what I paid for gas. After a couple of weeks of trying to figure out how anyone is making money doing this, I decided to take a look into how Uber actually operates and I learned some disturbing facts. Just by calling themselves a tech company as opposed to a transportation company, they are able to sidestep the costly regulations that are required of cab companies and effectively ignore whatever legal challenges that are thrown at them. Since their drivers are considered “independent contractors”, they don’t have to guarantee wages or health insurance. Uber takes a 20% cut of the drivers fares and the driver is left responsible for fuel, maintenance, tolls, wear and tear and insurance. Speaking of insurance, Uber makes no effort to inform their drivers who use their personal automobile insurance that in most cases they are excluded from coverage when driving for profit. Uber even goes so far to say that they are not liable for any passenger injuries based on the apps terms of services. I don’t regret a minute of it, though. I met some pretty cool people out there and I got out before anyone hurled in my car Although I still believe that ride sharing is the way of the future, it’s never going to reach its full potential until someone figures out a way to regulate the corporate greed factor and make sure that drivers receive a fair shake. All I know is that the whole experience really made me miss that boring old nine to five gig. If you decide to give ridesharing a try the next time you’re too drunk to drive home from Whiskey Willies, please insist that the driver take a tip. And for godssakes would it kill ya to throw the dude five stars? While being tossed around (literally) from public school to public school for most of my childhood, I learned quickly that it was pretty difficult for people to beat me up when they were laughing. I decided early on that my best bet for survival was to introduce myself as the class clown right from the start and as it turned out, nobody really wanted to fight me for that title. By the time I graduated from high school, I had become very proficient at this skill and this proficiency would shape the rest of my life. Looking back on my adolescence recently, I pondered why this strategy had worked so well for me and decided to do a little research into this phenomenon we call laughter. Everywhere in the world, human babies start laughing all on their own between the ages of 2 and 4 months. What I mean by that is that no one actually teaches them, they just laugh. Research shows that even deaf and blind babies start laughing on that same time table. Laughter researcher Robert Provine, a neuroscientist, has speculated that laughter may have been one of the original forms of human communication. Early humans may have laughed as a way to bond with their fellow tribe members or to let someone they came in contact with know that they were not aggressive. Laughter is definitely a social activity. Just try to maintain laughter (real or fake) for any significant amount of time by yourself. If you can do it, you’re probably suffering from a severe form of schizophrenia. Believe it or not, human beings are not the only animals that laugh. In fact, all mammals have the ability to express themselves through laughter. Just give a good listen to dogs chasing one another in the yard. You’ll hear them making a panting sound that is unique to play. Professor Provine believes that this “pant, pant, pant” sound is what eventually evolved into ha, ha ,ha in humans. A study by another neuroscientist found that even rats (Yes, they are mammals. I googled it.) laugh when they are tickled. In 2006, a team of British neuroscientists proved that laughter may truly be contagious. They were able to demonstrate that simply hearing laughter triggers brain responses that cause you to laugh, which in turn causes other people to laugh and so on and so on... It’s a lot like when you witness someone else yawning and then you feel compelled to yawn. It turns out that laughing is actually an involuntary response much like breathing, except that it is triggered by outside stimulus as opposed to the need to survive. Although the study of laughter is in its infancy, Dr. Michael Miller has found that our blood vessels regard stress and positive emotional behavior such as laughter as opposites. It’s been shown that laughter appears to expand or dilate the blood vessels, but stress constricts, which is a known contributing factor of heart disease. It’s also been found that people who laugh on a regular basis tend to live 8-10 years longer than those who don’t. The truth is that laughing makes us feel good. As human beings, we are more greatly affected by positive expressions from others than by negative. This strong reaction gives laughter the ability to override most, if not all, of our negative emotions. The term “breaking the ice” actually means to lighten up a tense or uncomfortable situation by making someone laugh. There is even an extreme form of contagious laughter that has been spreading through churches across North America called “Holy Laughter”. The followers of holy laughter believe that God laughs through them (watch out speaking in tongues) and they often fall to the floor laughing uncontrollably. If you’re feeling like you don’t have enough laughter in your life or you’d just like to live a bit longer, just take this advice that my dear sweet mother so often gave to me; “GET THE HELL OUT OF THE HOUSE AND GO PLAY WITH YOUR FRIENDS”. I promise dude, if you take that to heart you will live a long life full of boundless joy and much laughter. During my sophomore year at Uni High, my goal was to become the most popular stoner in high school. Since I lived directly across the street from the campus, I often would gather together a small group of likeminded individuals and we would go to lunch at my house. One afternoon, while passing around my four foot Plexiglas bong and discussing world politics, I heard a knock at the front door. I thought it might be fun to take a large bong hit and blow it into the face of the new arrival. As I opened the door and exhaled, I was surprised to see two police detectives. They both just smiled and said “We’re coming in”.
We all laughed and joked as the officers picked through my seemingly endless drawer of paraphernalia and placed it all into an evidence bag. They even found two dead plants on the back patio that I had attempted to grow and had forgotten about. We were all still laughing as they loaded us into several police cruisers and headed towards the new temporary police station (a trailer next to Albertson’s), but when we got there, suddenly no one could remember what was so damn funny and a couple of the girls began to cry. At the end of the day, I had been charged with four felonies (possession of marijuana, possession of paraphernalia, cultivation and my personal favorite, being in a place where marijuana is being smoked). About a month later, my father went with me to court. We sat in that courtroom all morning long with my dad checking his watch about every five minutes until eventually the judge announced that the court would be taking a two hour recess for lunch. That was all that my pop could take so he marched right up to the district attorney, explained just how busy a man he was and exclaimed that he didn’t have time for this crap. To my complete surprise, the D.A. apologized and said that we would be first on the docket following lunch. After lunch, he called us into his office and asked me to explain the circumstances of the charges against me. After listening to my explanation, he said, “Here’s what we’re going to do. I will present a plea bargain to the judge and if he accepts it, we will dismiss all of the charges except for possession of marijuana, impose a fifty dollar fine and move to have your record expunged.” My father stood up, shook his hand and thanked him, to which the D.A. replied “You know now that they’ve passed decriminalization (SB 95), this stuff is going to be legal in a couple of years anyway”. That was 1975. Some forty years later, that prophecy is finally starting to come to pass so I recently took a trip to Denver to experience for the first time what purchasing legal weed was really like. After landing at Denver airport, I went straight to the closest recreational cannabis dispensary. There was a sign on the door that said “Please Knock”, so I knocked and was promptly greeted by an armed security guard who asked to see my driver’s license. As I fumbled for my license, I threw out my standard line when being asked for proof of age and said “you don’t get this ugly in less than twenty-one years”. The guard just laughed and said, “Welcome to Colorado”. Once inside, I walked up to the counter and a lovely young lady showed me samples of the various strains of cannabis that she had to offer that day. I picked out the strain that smelled the best to me and asked for a gram and some rolling papers. (I’m old school.) She put it in a child proof plastic bag (that’s part of the law) and asked if I needed anything else. I said, “What the heck, you might as well throw in a bag of them gummy bear edibles just for fun”. Before leaving this wondrous place, my first instinct was to stuff that plastic bag of contraband down my pants, but then I remembered that I didn’t have to do that here and I just walked out holding my plastic bag loud and proud right in front of God and everybody. After all these years, I have to tell you that it felt pretty damn good. It was just like the good book tells us; “Good Things Come to Dudes Who Wait”. I’d like to start off this story with a word of caution. What you’re about to read is both an honest and extremely graphic description of my very personal and deeply spiritual ayahuasca experience. Therefore, I would warn the faint of heart and the weak of stomach to proceed cautiously.
Where to begin? My amazing freelance genealogist cousin Nancy proposed a trip to Costa Rica to meet a whole branch of our family who we had never met, much less hugged. Her wonderful friend, Sandra, went with us and if not for her bilingual skills, we would still be at the airport trying to tell a cab driver where we wanted to go, but I will save that part of the trip for another blog. After the girls got off to the airport, I took about an hour cab ride from our hotel in Alehuela to a town named Cartago. Per my instructions, I called Howard, the guy who I spoke to when I originally reserved my spot at the retreat and left a message that he could pick me up at the La Basilica de la Virgen de Los Angeles. After a little while, a small car pulled up in front of me and the driver said “You look like you don’t belong here. You must be Walter.” I said, “You must be Howard” and he replied, “Throw your crap in the back seat, jump up front and put your seat belt on”. Soon we had escaped the noisy traffic congestion of the city and began to ascend up winding roads through densely vegetated rain forest to a place they called simply The Ranch. As we pulled up to the main house, I was greeted by a lovely young woman with the blondest dreadlocks I had ever seen whose name is Zoe and an exotic looking bearded young man. Although he spoke very little English, he proceeded to entertain Zoe and me by rolling a small crystal ball along every extremity of his body without ever letting it hit the ground. I soon learned that this man was Harold the Shaman. I turned to Zoe and said, “This must be the place.” She just laughed and asked, “I’m taking the couple that arrived before you for a tour of the grounds in a little bit. Would you like to join us?” I said sure, and she pointed in the direction of my room so I could drop off my stuff. As the afternoon progressed, one by one, the other members of our soon to be little tribe began to arrive. We were a pretty diverse group and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t the oldest guy at the retreat. That first night, we all had dinner together and had a chance to swap our stories of who we think we are and what brought us to this moment together. That’s when I started to notice a common thread in the stories. Each one of us felt as if we had been called by someone or something to come to this place. If you’ve read my blog, you’ve probably recognized that I have a tendency to sometimes use magical thinking in place of common sense, but here were six other individuals from all over the world that heard that same voice in their head. After dinner, we all met up in the temple to receive the Shaman’s blessing for our upcoming experience and to be informed about what to expect in the following days. We were introduced to a couple of additional staff members named Silvia and Eric and then we were each given a small cup brewed from just the ayahuasca vine itself. What’s interesting is that the vine that the ayahuasca brew is named for doesn’t actually have any psychoactive properties of its own. It’s when you add a second plant that contains the DMT molecule that the tea takes on its hallucinogenic qualities. Without the addition of the ayahuasca vine, the DMT would be unable to metabolize into the bloodstream through your digestive system. The vine quite literally is the transport vehicle that delivers you to the experience and that is why she is referred to as “Plant Teacher” or “Plant Mother”, but I just call her Goddess for short. We all went to sleep that evening with the belief that although we still felt some apprehension, we were prepared for the ceremony to come. We had no idea and I think that’s a good thing. Otherwise, I’m not sure I would have stuck around. Day two started off with a light breakfast and more discussion about the upcoming ceremony. At that point, we were informed that our last meal of the day would be served at 11am and were told not to drink any additional fluids after 2pm. Later that day, after much anticipation and quite a bit of soul searching, the time for our first ceremony had arrived. We all gathered in the temple and picked out our spots. Each of us was given a yoga mat, a comforter, a small pillow and a large plastic bowl. Since we were a predominantly English speaking group, Eric did most of the speaking to the group, while Shaman Harold and Silvia tended to the more spiritual side of the ceremony. They went around to each participant and performed an individual blessing ritual that included chanting and a cleansing with a tobacco smoke they called Mapacho. After the blessings, Harold returned to the front of the temple; where he sat down to prepare each individual dose of the Ayahuasca. He then called us up one by one to receive the sacrament. He spoke some more words over the cup and then blew some Mapacho smoke into it. We were told to try to take the whole cup of brew in one swallow, try our best to hold it down and then we would be given a second cup in about 20 minutes. The taste was pretty harsh (I’m actually getting chills and feeling a little nausea just writing this) and as I got down to the bottom of the cup, the plant matter got thicker and thicker until it became very difficult to swallow. We were given a little honey to help mask the flavor, but honestly I don’t think I’ll ever forget that taste. Soon, Harold came over to my yoga mat to give me my second dose and as weird as this may seem, that one went down a bit smoother. I have to admit that I was quite proud of myself for keeping this nasty stuff down, so I decided to lie back, close my eyes and wait for the beautiful hallucinations to come. The first thing I noticed was what sounded to me like a woman’s voice giggling somewhere off in the distance. As the voice seemed to get closer and closer, I could start to make out the words “El Stupido” between the laughter. It was then that I saw my first vision. Pop Pop, Pop, three identical cartoon characters appeared before me. I later named them “Tres Amigos”. Each one was wearing all white with a red sash around their bulging waist, sandals on their feet and a gigantic sombrero on their head. Each one had the same huge smile underneath a pencil thin mustache that curled at the end. The images were completely static except the right hand which had the index finger pointing up and then in unison they would all point down. Just then, I felt a sharp pain in the pit of my stomach that felt as if someone had stabbed me with a knife and that’s when the purging began. I quickly opened my eyes, sat up, grabbed my bowl and proceeded to violently dry heave for about the next 15 minutes or so. There were sounds coming out of my mouth that I swear to you were not my own. Eventually, I was able to bring up a small amount of the plant matter and felt at this point that the worst was over. I was covered in sweat and physically exhausted, so I decided to lie back down and wait for the good stuff to begin. That is when the unbearable assault on my senses commenced. It started off with the awful taste in my mouth that was much worse when combined with what had come out of my mouth. Then there were the smells of the burning incense and the Mapacho smoke that kept reaffirming my nausea with every whiff. Every sound I heard, from the relentless music and shamanic chanting to the wretches of my fellow compadres purging themselves, felt like needles piercing my brain. Even the sound of raindrops striking the tin roof seemed like an organized attack. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the laughing returned, followed by another appearance of the Tres Amigos and then the whole process started all over again. After about eight hours of this, I had counted some thirteen separate purging sessions. At the end of the night, I was completely physically and emotionally exhausted, but somehow I mustered the strength to drag myself up the long steep set of steps leading to my sleeping quarters. The last thing I remember thinking before I passed out that early morning is “No matter what, I will never do that again.” The next morning, I awoke with a profound revelation that the previous night of torture was all just some sort of test. You see, in all the turmoil, I had almost forgotten that I had set a firm intention prior to the ceremony to “face my fears” and that’s exactly what she put in front of me. I knew right then and there that no matter how much my ego wanted to pack up my crap and get the hell out of that crazy place that this process wasn’t quite over yet and I needed to stay the course in order to truly understand the lesson I was there to learn. We all sat down to a light breakfast and tried to make sense of the prior evenings events. Even though each individual’s story was very different, everyone seemed to agree that although what they experienced was not what they expected, they all got what they asked for. After breakfast, we all piled into a small van and headed for the hot springs. I’ve been to several different natural hot springs in California, but this was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was a small pool located on the edge of a raging river. The river was ice cold, but the pool was somewhere around 90 degrees. We laughed and talked, but strangely not another word was spoken about the previous night’s goings on. By the time the second ceremony came around, I had decided to set the more gentle intention to “open my heart”, but unlike the night before, I didn’t seem to be experiencing any fear. I found myself sitting next to a new couple (they hadn’t been there for my first ceremony) who kept giggling and making jokes about the ceremony, so I decided I would just roll over, close my eyes and try to block them out. That’s when it all started. First, I just saw flowing colors that sort of resembled the Northern Lights. Then the colors turned into geometric shapes and then into flower and animal shapes sort of like cave drawings. To my delight, this beautiful light show seemed to go on for hours and then suddenly, everything went black. Out of the darkness, I started to see small dots of light flying towards me. They appeared to be endless strings of rope lights dancing all around me. I then realized that these rope lights were forming a cage around me and as soon as the cage was complete, it started moving in a downward direction. The cage (with me in it) kept plunging faster and faster. Soon, I started to notice that as the cage plummeted deeper, the blackness was becoming lighter. It started out an amber color, but soon turned to flame red. I decided that I must be headed for hell, but the strange part is that I still didn’t feel afraid. It was as if I had been there before and was happy to be going back. Suddenly the cage began to slow and as it gently touched down, the rope lights broke apart and flew into the sky above me. When I looked back down, I was surrounded by literally thousands of what I can only describe as elongated entity faces. Again I felt absolutely no fear. What I did feel was love and acceptance. As if all they wanted was to be as close as possible in order to share my energy. Just then, I was abruptly pulled back into the present moment by the familiar sound of the new couple realizing the joys of purging. I have to say I did take a certain satisfaction in the fact that they were no longer giggling and telling jokes. After I arrived back home, I was still trying to make some sort of sense out of what had happened to me, so I decided to share my experience with my friend Kirk. Now Kirk is a man of few words, but when he does say something it tends to be pretty profound. After telling him my story, he said “You weren’t in hell.” to which I asked, “Then where the hell was I?” He said, “You were here on the deck”. With those six little words everything became crystal clear to me. You see our deck is located three stories directly below my house, the ceiling is encircled with rope lighting and it’s one of the few places I can go to share the energy of some of my favorite entities, my friends and neighbors. The lesson I take away from all this is that I can stop searching for someone else’s idea of success. All I need do is to continue following my own bliss because I already have everything I need. Listen dude, if you’re considering finding out what lessons the Plant Mother has in store for you; I have a couple pieces of advice. First, I highly recommend strictly following the Shaman’s Diet for at least two weeks prior to your first ceremony (I would have saved myself a lot of grief in the purging department and lost a few pounds while I was at it), but most importantly, choose the intention you plan to set very carefully as I discovered that the Plant Goddess is a quite literal dudette. I am reminded of the old Rolling Stones song, “you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find You Get What You Need”. Before there were video games and 24 hour children’s networks and Saturday morning cartoons were pretty much it, kids used to spend their free time exploring the environment that surrounded their home. For me, growing up in Southern California meant hiking the back bays and river beds as well as traversing orange groves and storm drain tunnels. I would eventually find a comfortable spot to sit and just observe all the amazing activity going on around me. Almost without exception, I would be approached by some form of wild life. Now I’m not talking about “Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!” More like stink bugs, caterpillars, lady bugs, butterflies, squirrels and the occasional jackalope. I would always make it a point to introduce myself and carry on a very one sided conversation until they got bored and moved on. Maybe I was just a lonely kid in desperate need of friendship, but these interactions always made me feel like I had a special connection to nature. Later in life, I would learn of the possible existence of spirit animals and animal totems.
A few years ago, after relocating to the east coast, I woke one morning in the early summer to an incredible sight. As I looked out my window to greet the new day, I was amazed to see literally thousands of dragonflies swarming over the dune. I had never seen so many in one place so I walked down to the beach to get a closer look. It was absolute pandemonium out there. Everywhere you looked were dragonflies showing off their incredible aerobatic prowess, but the craziest part was that no matter where I walked on the beach, this spectacle appeared to only be happening right in front of my house. I knew right then and there that the dragonflies had been sent by the universe to deliver a message intended just for me and if I was going to be able to interpret this message, I would once again need to consult the repository of all human knowledge, YouTube. The first thing I discovered is that these little insects are not newcomers to planet earth. In fact, by studying fossil remains, science has been able to trace them back over 300 million years. That’s a hundred million years before dinosaurs showed up on the scene. Interestingly, although they have had all that time to evolve, their form is virtually indistinguishable from their modern day counterparts except for their size, making them one of the most successful life forms in our planet’s history. Due to their otherworldly appearance, they have been both feared and revered throughout human history, earning them such nicknames as Devil’s Needle or Hobgoblin Fly. The truth about dragonflies turns out to be even more fascinating than the superstition. They spend most of their lives (about 2 years) as an underwater insect called a nymph only to undergo a complete metamorphosis into the winged creature we know as the dragonfly just in time to live out their final two months. Many of the over 5000 known species of dragonflies are able to achieve flight speeds of 30 mph combined with the ability to stop, turn on a dime, hover and even fly backwards, which is why the military is currently studying their wing configuration in order to develop a precision drone design. As far as the food chain goes, lions and sharks, with their barely 50% kill rate, ain't got nothing on these veracious predators who capture nearly 95% of their intended prey with the help of their keen 360 degree multifaceted eyesight and exceptional flying agility. Rather than some sort of divine intervention, all my research has suggested that the reason the dragonflies have decided to grace my yard may in fact have more to do with the combination of the stagnant water in the abandoned swimming pool at the fleabag motel next door and the lush indigenous dune vegetation that makes for a virtual insect smorgasbord. Although I never learned to speak fluent dragonfly, I still believe there is an important lesson to be learned from our four winged friends. You've spent your whole life struggling to break free of that exoskeleton of other people’s expectations of who you should be. It’s your time to fly! Life is short. Don’t waste it dude. Before Fred and Randee sent me to the Dominican Republic to set up the entertainment activities for their new clothing optional resort, Eden Bay (now known as Caliente Carib), the farthest I had been outside of the good old US of A was a family beach camping trip to Ensenada. My first culture shock happened on the flight down there. This was back when you could still smoke on international flights and being a smoker at the time, I was looking forward to that experience. Let me just tell you that being locked in a small tube with about a hundred nervous smokers ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.
My next surprise happened when we landed at the airport in Puerto Plata. As soon as the wheels touched down on the runway, the entire plane erupted into spontaneous applause, as if a safe landing was not the usual outcome. Then, during the cab ride to the resort, I got to experience the unique local highway system firsthand. The roads appeared to be your average two lane highway, but in reality, they functioned as three lanes; one lane for each direction plus an imaginary center passing lane for vehicles traveling in either direction to use at their own risk. This made for one of the most exhilarating cab rides of my life. When I finally arrived at the property, I was taken aback by the sheer beauty of this piece of land nestled in the gently sloping hills overlooking a gorgeous bay filled with the bluest water I had ever seen. I quickly settled in and got right to work setting up the DJ booth and arranging the activities schedule for the soft opening. Since most of the employees spoke very little English and my Spanish pretty much consisted of the phrase “dos cervasa, por favor” I quickly gravitated to hanging out with the head chef, Chris. He was Canadian and had originally come to the DR on vacation, but while there, he met a beautiful Dominican girl, fell in love, got married and moved to start his new life on Isla de la Hispaniola. One afternoon, Chris invited me to go along with him and some of the other staff that evening to a local “discoteca” in the nearby town of Cabrea. When it was time to go, we all loaded up in the bed of a large dump truck and headed down the road. We arrived at a rundown roadside shack that looked more like a fruit stand than a night club. Inside, I witnessed one of the most inventive uses of Christmas tree lighting to illuminate a dance floor I had ever seen, but what they lacked in lighting, they more than made up for with two of the largest P.A. speakers I had ever heard. They were blasting out salsa and meringue with a little bit of reggae on the side. We all sat down at a table and I used all the Spanish I could muster to order a Rhum & Coca Cola. What the waitress brought me was one glass, a bucket of ice, two glass bottles of coke and a fifth of rum. I felt as if I had just ordered a whiskey at some saloon in one of those old western movies. As we sat around the table, I quickly came to the realization that I was the only one that didn’t speak Spanish and therefore I was pretty much being left out of the conversation. I turned to Chris and asked him if he would do me a favor. I said, “Every time someone says something funny, you tap me and I will laugh as if I know what’s going on.” The first couple of times it was so unexpected that the whole group fell apart with their own laughter, but after a while, Chris started tapping me whenever there was a lull in the conversation just to get the party started again. It may sound funny, but in a weird way it did make me feel as if I was actually a part of the conversation. The truth is that the months I spent in the DR really changed my perspective on the world. What I learned is that the Dominicans are a warm and welcoming people and how to merengue like nobody’s business, but I have to tell you dude that after being away from home for a while there is nothing quite as comforting as the warm glow from the lights of a 24 hour Walmart. |
About Wali,
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