the old-school guestbook archives
my amazon wish list... my favorite astrologer... my favorite artist... yerba mate revolution! erowid: a travel guide for interior journeys... no more war: MoveOn.org United for Peace and Justice True Majority seek the truth: Common Dreams Unamerican Activities The Nation people I adore, diaries I read: rev.raikes ariana cubiclegirl epiphany glitter333 laurakay wammo the music: the asylum street spankers backyard tire fire blue highway bill camplin wendy colonna freedom tribe joules graves guy forsyth band hamsa lila hanuman libby kirkpatrick leftover salmon pamela means medeski martin & wood the motet the nice outfit nickel creek open road rose polenzani railroad earth south austin jug band string cheese incident taarka tha musemeant the devil makes three tim o'brien band trolley wild sage keller williams yonder mountain string band |
eating at the blind faith cafe ~ August 26, 2001 - 5:04 p.m. if only I knew where I was I might know where to begin... lost... I've been spending too much time in silicon valley, this is problem number one. I can't seem to get my bearings. a loss of reference points and the absence of many things that bring me joy. I hate san jose. the boy, of course-- what else ever brings me to san jose. ozone has a house here, and it made sense to stay for a few days when I got back from the string cheese festival in oregon, since we were taking off together to head out east... but then their were delays and hassles and a few days turned into a week and then suddenly two and I've been in san jose for way too damn long. I don't like the way I feel when I'm in this place. it's a nice house-- clean, comfortable, big soft bed, hot tub-- and in it I feel completely wrong. like someone rearranged my soul when I wasn't looking and then stuffed it back with everything in the wrong corners. I need to get out of here so I can think straight. I'm in this weird cycle of knowing I need to get out of here but not doing anything about it because I'm too depressed to care. not good. but it looks as if we may actually be able to leave tomorrow. it could be that everything will feel much different once I get back out on the road. I'm afraid. I think that's really what it comes down to. but I also have a whole lot of faith. a ridiculous amount at times. taped to my dashboard, I have a business card for a vegetarian restaurant in chicago called the blind faith cafe. I keep it there mainly as a reminder of how far blind faith has taken me when everything else has failed. I know that this fog will clear, that I will feel good and things will make sense again. I'll learn what I need to from this time of fear and confusion, and everything will come together. it always does, sooner or later, as long as I follow my heart. when I was twenty-one, one of my students from the alternative school where I worked in santa cruz started teaching me how to surf. he was fifteen, and of course believed himself indestructible. he got p.e. credit for teaching me, and we both got to take a surf break in the middle of the afternoon. the second time we went out, I shouldn't even have tried it. a storm had just come through, and the ocean was tossing around huge, wild waves under a charcoal grey sky. I knew I shouldn't go out, but it looked exciting as hell, and I've always been an adrenaline junkie. plus I can swim like hell. so I decided I'd just go out until it felt stupid dangerous or I got too tired. which took all of about ten minutes. and of course somewhere in the back of my head I was thinking about the fact that sharks rarely come near the shore-- except right after a storm. I kept seeing the silhouette they had hanging from the ceiling of the aquarium in camden to show why a surfer paddling on a board looks so much like a sea lion to a shark looking up from below. so before I'd even gotten out to the zone, I was stupid tired from fighting the cross current and ducking under waves, so I decided to head back to shore. cross current, remember?-- so I had to fight it on the way back in, too. I was shaking by the time my feet found land. I was slogging into shore when a wave hit me, knocked me over, snagged the board out from under my arm. it was still leashed to my ankle, so I was bent over retrieving the board when the second wave hit me-- and took me, off my feet, under the water, and spinning. with that cross current pulling me right towards the pilings of the wharf. I wasn't sure how close I was, but big mama ocean was carrying me with enough force to break my back if wharf wood met soft kellybones. I couldn't find the air, I couldn't find sand, all I could find was water, and every cell in my body was screaming for me to breath-- underwater or no. then this voice came on in my head, loud but calm: NO. THAT'S HOW PEOPLE DROWN. REMEMBER NOT TO BREATHE. REMEMBER NOT TO PANIC. YOU'RE GOING TO BE OKAY. and of course, I was. soon after, the wave subsided and I floated up to the surface where there was all kinds of oxygen just laying around waiting to be breathed. I still love to surf. I still suck at it. and I still think about that time whenever I'm in a place like this, an airless place where love feels like drowning and everything is dark. another meal at the blind faith cafe. I'm holding my breath and remembering not to panic. I know that when this subsides, I will find light again, and air. I know it.
(((rings))) |