The Great Escape – Part Eleven


The Great Escape – Part Eleven

Of course, that’s what we are, a river, flowing through, along, the path of time. And that path, that course, that river bed is strewn with rocks, obstacles, all manner of things that can cause us to suffer or simply slow us down. We, you, me, they, all of it, all of existence is the flowing river. It’s all energy, because that’s we are, flowing energy. We are flow-ers, flowing, flow-er children. Around and around and around it goes, river to sea to cloud to raindrop to stream to river. Round and round we go.

The flow was so slow

that I wanted to know

just why I was feeling so down.

It hadn’t rained for days

and I was in kind of daze.

The heat will do that you know,

There had been a big drought

And we’d had quite a bout

of sluggishness, indolence and sloth

We drifted for days

in a somnombulent haze,

a murkey, lugubrious broth.

I looked down and thought,

well now, look at that rock.

That must be what’s causing the trouble.

If it was moved to the right,

or moved to the left,

our flow would almost be double.

It was only a little one

wedged ‘tween two big stones.

Surely not much of a hinderance.

For a river like us

to push us and toss,

to unplug such a tiny encumberance.

So we pushed and shoved

until finally it budged

just a hair, just slightly akimbo.

Well, the trickle increased,

it was better, at least

but it still, was it worth all the trouble?

So then we laid down,

sort of puddled around,

for our effort had been quite deteriorate.

It had increased our flow rate,

and we’d opened the floodgate,

but still we continued to stagnate.

But in our dilerium

we had failed to notice some

clouds that had gone beyond cirrus.

It started to pour

like never before.

The situation became quite delireous.

Our slough of despond

had become quite a pond,

and was growing with each drop that fell.

There was thunder and lightning,

It was all very enlightning,

as our edges continued to swell.

The crack ‘tween the rocks

that the pebble had blocked

had widened into a canyon.

We tumbled and rolled

and bubbled and roiled,

then shot through it, as if from a cannon.

The ride was so frightening

the crashing and shatterting

into billions of tiny small droplets

We soared and we plummeted

dove and spummated,

until finally, we became quite exhausted.

We rode to the sea,

the you and the me,

it was there that we all then engathered.

In the warmth of our bed

We giggled and said,

Have we ever been so enraptured?

The Great Escape – Part Ten


The Great Escape – Part Ten

……..and then there was that time, it was in the spring I believe. You know how undependable memory is. How time changes everything. There were still patches of snow on the ground and the old mining and logging road was muddy in places.

It was still kind of cold, but seemed gloriously warm after what we were coming out of. Winter that is. The pipes had unfrozen. It was morning, I think, and correct me if I’m wrong, it was a sunny day. A beautiful sunny day. We were in the Siskiyou Mountains on Althouse Creek, walking. Just walking. That’s all, just walking. Not talking at all.

We didn’t have any idea what was going to happen next, all the changes we would be going through. Permanence was not something we had sought or thought about yet. We were still so very young. We didn’t know that a year later bulldozers would come and obliterate any trace of our existence there, or our tenuous, experimental family would tear asunder, divided from within, or that it would reform into smaller circles, because love never dies. It just sleeps sometimes.

But the old ghost mining town of Browntown, once called Tigertown, was still standing and very much alive. It had no electricity, but it was electrified.

Anyways, I remember we were walking up the windy road and it was such a beautiful day, full of newness and beginnings. We had just spent our first winter in the mountians and we were feeling good. We would soon be living the summer of our lives. Later we would discover that it was henseforth, from that point, that all our lives would flow. At least it was that way for me. You’d have to ask the others to be sure. It was for Chuck too. We’ve talked about it many times. Chuck called it a school, and we learned more about life in that one year than all our years in public school. It felt like a lifetime.

We were walking, just walking, neither slow nor fast, up to where the bridge crossed the creek, up through the dark, wet, dripping fir and pine and madrone and oak trees. I don’t know who I was walking with but it was someone.. Funny that that fact, not knowing, doesn’t discomfort me at all, that it actually echos our state of mind at the time because we were so OPEN. We didn’t know anything then either. We were all so full of possibilies, and we were oblivious to any kind of suffering or loss.

We just stopped there and looked down into that springtime, roiling, tumult of rushing water. I can still feel water spray on my face and hear the thunder of it echoing in my ears, and I just stood there looking into it. Just looking into it. IN TO IT! I felt so incredibly high and I wasn’t stoned, not stoned at all. It was so beautiful. So wonderous. So so awsome, I felt as if I had stepped into some alternate universe, but it was still this one all right. It was just this amazing, totally unexplicable thing!

I don’t remember walking back or even if we did walk back. Maybe we just floated through the air, and then I was up in my funky little attic room above the double barrel woodstove, cozy and warm again and I wrote this poem. I’m sorry if it doesn’t quite catch it, that experience, but it is what it is, and here it is, resurected after all thse years:

Snow that cannot say they,

water that cannot say we

flowing together

as changes come,


Come down to the river,

come down too!

It’s going so fast,

no one can see where it’s going.


Someone says:

“He’s trying to damn it up,

but it still flows.”

The big stones never move,

could never confine a river,

it just flows through, around,


Endless; Endless;


Browntown, 1971

To be continued………..

The Great Escape- Part Eight Continued


The Great Escape – Part Eight continued……

I think what Acid did, all it did, was to temporarily un-mask us, at least to some degree. It wiped out our defences. It un-masked all us Lone Rangers and suddenly we could see. What was there, both outside and behind the masks, was love. That’s what the masks were hiding. I’m talking about divine universal love. An alternative reality. And there was so much awe that first time. That’s what led us into it, I think..

Then we came back down and put the masks back on and went on about our daily lives. The high wasn’t maintainable because it was just a drug. If you took the same amount of it the next day, nothing happened. You didn’t get high. You had to double the dose to even get off. And when we did it again it wasn’t the same anyway because we gradually learned how to keep our masks on while high. After awhile, it became pointless to do it anymore. Fortunatly, acid isn’t addictive.

But getting high wasn’t what it was about anyway. The drug made us vulnerable and that was a bit scarry. That’s why we put on the masks to begin with, to not feel vulnerable and a host of other things that worry us. Love frightens many of us because we mistakenly equate it with vulnerability. We afraid we’ll be disappointed.

The drug also rendered us practically physically incompetent and we didn’t want to eat, another couple of major drawbacks. This wasn’t pot. It didn’t give you the munchies. It was a hundred times stronger than that.

Love was what it was really about. That’s what was really important. And love is not the high. The high is actually another kind of mask. It’s much more than that. We were just given a glimpse of it. It’s much bigger than that. It’s everywhere, both within us and without and the only reason we can’t see it is because these damned masks are in the way!

What our masks? Our egos, of course are one type. The there’s preconcieved ideas, false beliefs, survival techniques that are no longer appropriate, bad attitudes, all our fears. things we’ve learned that are untrue, things we misremember, who we think we are…well, just all the ways we’ve got it wrong. It’s the lens that filters everything we percieve. Breaking any of those things can give you a revelation or realization or enlightenment or illumination or whatever you want to call it.

Trying to take off our masks. Letting go of our egos and our fears, that’s what all the many spiritual paths are about. They’re methods for dropping our masks so we can see love, feel love, find love, become love, become one with all of it. All of them are about that, at least initially, and have been throughout history. Gods are about being whatever we need them to be about at the moment. It doesn’t matter if they are imaginary. They can help us. Dropping our masks is not easy to do. There’s so much confusion. We have so much to unlearn. Dissolution is difficult. We mistakenly think that is our true selves that are dissolving. It’s a big risk when you don’t know for sure. Especially when our egos, our society, in fact all of civilization tells us everything is one way when actually it’s another.

That’s what the counter culture was all about. It wasn’t about being a drug culture, it was about being Love. Experimentation with drugs was like trying on different kinds of glasses to see if we could see any better with them.

So idealistic they told us. So imaginary. So subversive. Dangerous even. So unrealistic, they said of us! Love and peace. So unrealistic! Wow! Really?

I’m sure that not everyone who tried acid in those days experienced what I did. There are many who were just getting fucked up and having fun, but a lot of us did. Ask any old hippy that’s still here. Some of us are still at it. Not taking LSD again, of course, we’re long done with that, it’s a dead end for us, but on the path, trying to open those doors to perception, to sacred love, to all of it.

Now that we’ve become older, maybe looking for universal love has become important to us again. Our children are grown now, maybe we’ve lost a spouse and we’re experiencing loneliness and remember once again those long ago flashes of pure love. Maybe suddenly all the stuff we’ve accumulated doesn’t mean much to us anymore, and work and security are less important because we haven’t got that much time left… what?… what? Or we’ve retired now and have lot’s of time to sit around, drink beer and contemplate our belly-buttons again.

I hope we will all find what we are looking for, pick out the belly-button lint, and get connected to the universe again, completely unmasked this time around with no druggie side effects. I know we will eventually, inevitably.

Peace and


……….To be continued.