Yes, this is yet another proposed chapter in my future book entitled “2020: My Year of Living Dangerously During the Lock-Down”. It’s probably not gonna be a best-seller but I’ve had fun remembering this very weird year (and a half).
We are now on Day 490 of the lock-down. Are Big Pharma and Big Tech finally tired of playing cat-and-mouse with us? Uh, no. The elite at Davos actually referred to us peons as “hackable animals”. My home town just re-established its harsh lock-down policies once again, all because of a variant with a 0.02% death rate. So much fun!
March 26, 2021: I am so ready for this! Another sacred indigenous getting-to-know-nature ceremony starts tomorrow. What will happen this time? What will I learn? What great form of enlightened knowledge will the sacred Mother grant me? What visions will I see? I can hardly wait!
March 27, 2021: A friend picked me up and off we went, into the very heart of California’s never-ending Central Valley farmland. “You are supposed to fast for a day before the ceremony,” the shaman told us — but when we pulled into a roadside gas station near Oakdale, there was a sign saying “Homemade Ice Cream”. I couldn’t resist. Strawberry. Two scoops. My bad.
At twilight we pulled up in front of an isolated farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere, spread out our sleeping bags and settled in for a wonderful night of visions and dream quests far away from the Big City bustle and roar. Out in the peace, quiet and fresh earthy smells of a farmland countryside? Not quite. No idealized pastoral scene here. Not even close. That bubble just popped.
The indigenous ceremony was lovely. The shaman softly played drums and sang healing chants with kindness and grace, strongly empowering us with ancient indigenous ways. About 30 of us then settled peacefully back into the oncoming quiet of nighttime under quiet stars and a silent full moon.
Ha!
Turns out that our ritualized slumber party was being staged right next to a rather large dog kennel — right on the other side of the fence next to us. 20 feet away. Big dogs. Little dogs. Yapping. Barking. Growling. Howling. Ferocious, scary, loud. All. Night. Long. 20 feet away. Crap.
But wait. It gets worse. Right next to the dog kennel was a rather large chicken ranch. 30 feet away. Apparently chickens never sleep either. At least the roosters had sense enough to wait until 4:00 am before crowing. 30 feet away. From me.
But wait. There’s more. On the other side of the dog kennel was a rather large goat barn. Seriously? And every time the freaking dogs barked or the freaking roosters crowed, the freaking goats would go crazy too. Ba. Ba. Ba. All. Night. Long. So much for the peaceful countryside.
But wait. More cacophony. On the other side of the farmhouse were train tracks. A train whistle blew every two hours. All night long. And on the highway next to the train tracks, large 18-wheel trucks also roared by — from twilight to dawn and beyond.
Plus the woman next to me got sick and threw up. Often. A lot. And the man two sleeping-bags away had grim nightmares and screamed every few hours. People ate, sang, laughed, cried and got up to pee and poop — which then set the animal farm off even more. All night long.
The sacred Mother did not visit me at all this night. I think that she was too scared. Can you blame her? And I got no sleep as well. So much for the quiet country life.
March 28, 2021: We drove home on an early Sunday morning, only stopping in Pleasanton to buy coffee at Peets and Fritos at Safeway.
March 31, 2021: I guess that, upon reflection, I did learn something important during my trip to the Central Valley after all. “Expect the unexpected. Life never goes the way that we want it to go. Be prepared to learn from the bad as well as the good.” And next time you visit the countryside, bring earplugs.
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