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      "author": "partiko",
      "body": "Thank you so much for sharing this amazing post with us!\n\nHave you heard about Partiko? It’s a really convenient mobile app for Steem! With Partiko, you can easily see what’s going on in the Steem community, make posts and comments (no beneficiary cut forever!), and always stayed connected with your followers via push notification!\n\nPartiko also rewards you with Partiko Points (3000 Partiko Point bonus when you first use it!), and Partiko Points can be converted into Steem tokens. You can earn Partiko Points easily by making posts and comments using Partiko.\n\nWe also noticed that your Steem Power is low. We will be very happy to delegate 15 Steem Power to you once you have made a post using Partiko! With more Steem Power, you can make more posts and comments, and earn more rewards!\n\nIf that all sounds interesting, you can: \n\n- Download Partiko Android at [Google Play](http://bit.ly/2SRFIta)\n- Or Download Partiko iOS on the [App Store](https://apple.co/2PcXkSd)\n\nThank you so much for reading this message!",
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{
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      "author": "skiphunt",
      "body": "<center>![peyotebrujolores.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmRBRVDxzNnWFgtStUgc9zpbc48zzJ35BaF5UtWR6CDw1Z/peyotebrujolores.jpg)</center>\n\nContinued from: Peyote Brujo Part 1: https://steemit.com/story/@skiphunt/peyote-brujo-part-1\n\nHaving your brain hemispheres open up like a fleshy lotus and expose it’s pink insides to a shower of electrified comet sparkles is fine and good, but if you also feel like you’re trying to pass the cutting shards of a giant mason jar though your small intestine... no amount of comet sparkle can make that tolerable.\n\nDesperately wanted to be back in my room and closer to someone who might be able to help, like perhaps a doctor for example. Though, I don’t believe there are any doctors in Wadley or nurses for that matter. The closest medical attention would be a couple hour bus ride to Matehuala, and that’s after the hour-long hike back to Wadley. Provided, I could get back before the only afternoon bus left at 3pm.\n\nSo, I gritted my teeth, clutched my stomach, drank as much water as I could tolerate without throwing up, and tried to enjoy the psychedelic realms in my hammock... between the shooting pains.\n\nDidn’t keep track of how long the pain lasted, but I’m guessing it was the better part of 4 hours since the psychotropic effects of the peyote were starting to subside a bit. It usually last for anywhere from 6-10hrs depending on various factors. I felt like I could finally start hiking back to Wadley at least.\n\nIn flat, desert areas like this on, it’s always difficult to judge distance. I hadn’t paid attention to exactly how long Philipe and I had hiked to the oasis, and although Wadley looked to be only a half-hour or so away… it took me well over an hour and a half to get back. That could’ve been because I changed the route a little to give more time for the peyote to wear off so that it wouldn’t feel as awkward interacting with anyone I might run into in the town. \n\nWhen I got to the 2-lane road that runs all the way through this desert and along the railroad tracks, I was almost at the outer edge of Wadley. \n\nI could smell the scent of marijuana burning somewhere. That’s not entirely unusual in this area, but it smelled very strong… as if someone had just walked ahead of me smoking a joint and the smoke was still hanging. \n\nMy intense stomach cramps had calmed down almost completely, but the effects of the peyote still very much had my brain in an ecstatic state. Thought about stopping at a tienda shop to get something cold to drink and maybe some snacks before walking back to my room, but decided to go lay the bed for a little while until the peyote had worn off a little more. \n\nI was almost to the compound and noticed a white truck parked at the compound gate. Looks like Don Tomas has more guests. They must be waiting for someone to open the gate so they can pull their truck into the courtyard. \n\nGot a little closer and noticed it wasn’t just a white truck. It had “POLICIA” painted on it. One of the local boys was talking to the cop who looked like he was in charge. He had a stark look, with a bushy mustache and he looked like he was looking for someone to extort money from. I took a hard right toward another tienda to disappear into, but I was too late. The boy had already pointed toward the gringo walking into the nearby tienda. \n\nI could see the cop starting to walk toward the tienda and my heart started to race. Think fast! Oh, no… I left that bag of dried peyote brujo in a clear bag on the bed and there was still that white fiber stuff all over the floor. And, 2/3rds of that giant peyote plant was still at the bottom of the orange bag in my daypack. This isn’t going to go well for me. Think, don’t panic. Don’t look nervous. \n\nWalked out of the tienda and rounded behind it toward my room. I could tell the cop was picking up his pace and trying to catch up to me. There were two other cops at the truck with the 3 young Mexican guys from Mexico city handcuffed in the back. \n\nEvidently, the guys from Mexico City been walking just ahead of me on the road smoking a joint. The cops smelled it and searched their backpacks which were all 3 full of cut peyote plants. That explains why they went out into the desert with almost nothing in their packs other than something to sleep with. Unfortunately, they hadn’t got the memo on not smoking weed in town while the cops are snooping about. \n\nI could hear the larger cop who was following me calling out for me to stop, but I pretended not to hear. Nodded to the guys in the back of the truck and opened the padlock on my room door, grabbed the plastic bag of peyote brujo pieces and jammed it between a folded mattress in the corner. The cop had made it to my room and started banging on the door. He called out that he needed to see my passport. (in Spanish)\n\n“Señor, I must see your passport. Why didn’t you stop?”\n\n“Oh, I’m sorry… I didn’t know you were talking to me. Just a minute, I’ll get my passport.”\n\nI grabbed my passport and stuffed my wallet between the mattresses too before stepping out of the room.\n\n“United States?”\n\n“Si.”\n\n“What are you doing here?”\n\n“Visiting”\n\nThe head cop flipped through my passport and then started checking my visa to see if it was expired and had then proper stamps and signatures. One of the other two cops motioned toward my daypack I’d set down. \n\n“Hand your bag to him please, we need to search it.”\n\nI remembered the rest of that giant peyote plant in the bottom of the plastic bag of oranges, I tried not to look nervous as I handed my daypack to the other cop. He started taking items out slowly, then glancing up at me to see if I was starting to break a sweat as the cop with the mustache went over my papers. \n\nWhen he pulled out my knife that still had some dirt on it, his eyebrows went up. He opened the knife as he stared at me as if he’d found something incriminating. I shrugged. The cop then opened the knife and compared the length of the blade to the width of his hand. Evidently that’s a measure of how long a knife blade can be on your person. It was slightly over the allowed length. I silently relaxed because I thought the dirt on the knife was giving me away. \n\nThen, he lifts the the plastic bag of oranges out of the daypack and my heart sank. Still, I kept calm on the outside. The plastic bag was opaque so you couldn’t see through it. He simply patted on the plastic bag with the knife and said, “Naranjas” (oranges). He then puts the bag back into the daypack without looking into it, and folds the knife. Everything went back into the bag and he hands it back to me. Whew!\n\nThe mustache cop handed my passport back. I tried to make conversation and asked why the third cop was. They said he was getting the keys to the boy’s red Ford Fiesta car because they were being arrested and driven up to the jail in Real de Catorce. \n\nFelt bad for the boys, but they were mostly smiling. They also looked very stoned, so maybe the gravity of the situation hadn’t quite hit them yet. Still, I was rejoicing silently inside that I was about to avert this trip going very badly for me. \n\nUntil, the mustache cop said he wanted to search my room. All that inner joy came to a complete stop. I was also feeling the tail-end of the peyote effects and my head was racing. I said:\n\n“No problemo”\n\nHe followed me into the room. I tossed my daypack to the middle of a long table in the room so it didn’t look like I was trying to hide anything in the bag they’d just searched, and then calmly sat on the edge of the bed while started looking around. \n\n“What are you really doing here amigo? You’re here to eat the peyote aren’t you?”\n\n“No. I told you I only came here to write. See my laptop on the table?”\n\nHe looked toward the laptop and looked moved some loose items around looking underneath as he moved through the room.\n\n“Yes, I see the computer… but many of the foreigners carry them. Tell me why you’re here.”\n\n“Only writing. I like to come here to the desert for inspiration and the quiet.”\n\nHe started kicking his police boot around the floor and moving the white fibers from the peyote brujo that were still there. My pulse went up a few notches. \n\n“If you are not here for the peyote, why is all of this peyote fiber on the floor? You cleaned a plant in here didn’t you?”\n\n“No, I told you before why I’m here. I don’t know what that fiber is. It was here when I got here. I need to sweep. It’s a dirty room and I need to sweep.”\n\nHe then walked around the room another time, looking into dusty storage boxes and over to the folded mattress on a rollaway bed where I’d stashed the bag of dried peyote brujo pieces. He rolled it around once. The mattress was filthy so he didn’t stick his hand into the fold to check. \n\nDetermined to find something to bust me for, he sauntered over toward a video camera I had on a tripod in the room. I’d carried it along with me to get interesting travel shots along the way. He asked:\n\n“You are here only to write?”\n\n“Yes”\n\n“Then why do you have this professional movie camera?”\n\n“Because I’m working on a story for a movie I’d like to make and I’m using the video camera to record some of the possible locations.”\n\nI’d heard that another movie had filmed up in Real de Catorce a couple years prior and it had infused a lot of money into the town. Brad Pitt and Julia Davis are in it. I think it’s called “The Mexican” or something like that. \n\nAnyway, I knew that the primary motivation for the cops in the area, and most of Mexico for that matter, seemed to be making a little cash on the side. And, I needed to think of a way to distract this guy quick as he headed back over toward the folded mattress after running his hand underneath the mattress on my bed. \n\n“You know... I was just thinking... if everything works out this this movie script I’m working on and I find people with money to finance making it, I’ll be back here with a crew.”\n\nI remembered that I’d recently had new business cards made and I’d put an icon of a movie reel on them, along with a camera, and a couple others. The reel would make it look like I was really a filmmaker. Walked over to the table to get a card our of my wallet and motioned for him to accept it in order to divert him from proceeding toward the folded mattress.\n\n“If, I find the money and can make this film happen, I’m going to need to hire someone for security during the shoot. Would you be available for something like that?”\n\nHe studied the business card I’d handed him.\n\n“It’d be paid of course.”\n\nHis eyes lit up as he looked up from the business card.\n\n“You would hire me for the security on a pelicula? (film)\n\n“I don’t see why not. I’ll need someone with and you’re the only one with that kind of experience that I’ve met here.”\n\nI started walking toward the door where the other 2 cops were waiting with the 3 Mexican guys in the back of the truck. The guys weren’t smiling anymore as I think the high was starting to wear off and they realized what was happening. The third cop had loaded their belongings into their Ford Fiesta and had just pulled it out of the courtyard.\n\nAs I stepped outside the room the mustached cop luckily followed behind.\n\n“What’s going to happen to those guys?”\n\n“They are all under arrest for cutting peyote in the desert. All their backpacks were full of it to take back to Mexico City to sell. They were also smoking mota (marijuana) along the road. Muy estupido (very stupid)”\n\nThe other cops asked the mustached one if I was clean. He told them I was only working on a movie and wanted to hire him for security. \n\n“We are taking these compadres up to Real de Catorce for processing. The only jail we are using now is the one up there.”\n\nI waved sympathetically toward the guys in the back of the truck. They half-heartily waved back and cracked nervous smiles. They’d probably be fine. The cops would likely keep their car and whatever mordida (bribes) the cops could get their parents to send, and they’d be on their way in a few days.\n\nThe cop with the mustache got into the passenger side of the police truck. After he slammed the door shut he leaned out smiling and waved my business card toward me. He yelled “Don’t forget me for security when you come back to make your movie!”\n\nI smiled and answered, “Por supuesto! (of course)”\n\nAs the police truck pulled out leaving a cloud fine desert dust hanging int the air, it was followed by the 3rd cop in the boy’s Ford Fiesta. He rolled down the window and cranked up the stereo  and started banging his head along to whatever heavy metal music the boys had last been listening to while pretending to sing along. I could still make out the expressions of the boy’s faces. Their high had definitely worn off and they did not look amused.\n\nWent back into my room after first giving the stink eye to the little boy who’d first spotted me and pointed my way as I walked in from the desert. He laughed at me and ran off. \n\nI stood in my room shaking for a few moments realizing how close I got to ending up in the back of that police truck too. I didn’t have anyone to call who’d bail me out and it definitely would not have gone well.\n\nOpened the other door of my room that went out into the courtyard. I could see Philipe’s door was open. Walked over and peeked in. Philipe was as white as a ghost and shaking a little.  I asked:\n\n“Hey amigo! Did you see what just happened?”\n\n“Yeah, one of those cops came banging on my door and wanted to search my room.”\n\n“Oh no! They didn’t find your bag of kef?!”\n\n“No, luckily I heard them march the Mexican guy’s in here to get the keys to their car. There’s no where to hide anything in these rooms so I jammed my bag of kef and pipe up above the roof beam and tin roof. Luckily my main stash is still in a pack I have a Don Tomas’ casa.\n\n“The Mexican guys were walking along the road smoking weed right as they walked into the town. That’s how they got caught.”\n\n“Idiots! Look at my hands, I can’t stop shaking. That could’ve gone very badly for me!”\n\n“I know! One of the town boys pointed at the gringo walking into the tienda nearby. I have no idea why the boy would do that.”\n\n“I’m sure he was just answering to the cops and didn’t mean harm. Did you end up eating that giant peyote cactus?”\n\nTold Philipe everything that had just happened. About the peyote brujo bag on my bed, getting searched, and about promising to hire the head policia as security on a movie set. Philipe couldn’t believe it. \n\n“How did you think of that?”\n\n“I was in a panic and making it up as I went… trying not to look nervous.”\n\n“Man, you are very lucky! They would’ve loved to catch themselves a gringo for sure!” \n\nPhilipe asked if the police were still in the town. I told him they’d left and were on their way up to the police station in Real de Catorce with the boy’s and their car. \n\nHe pulled the bag of kef down from the roof beam, along with his special kef pipe. \n\n“You want to have a smoke? I need a quick one to calm down.”\n\n“Yeah, that sounds like exactly what I need right now.”\n\nWe moved into the cocina (kitchen) to pass Philipe’s pipe for a few minutes and shared his Yerba Mate tea gourd. Philipe asked:\n\n“What are you going to do now? I need to catch the afternoon bus to Matehuala to buy a bike. I’m going to be here for 3 months so I want to get a bicycle to get around while I’m here.”\n\n“I think I’m going back out into the desert to cut more peyote.”\n\n“What?! Are you crazy?! We almost got busted!”\n\n“Well, I was thinking of moving on in a couple days and I have a friend in Puerto Vallarta who wanted to try peyote. He’s older and won’t likely make it out to the desert, so I agreed to bring him some. I’ll be back in a few weeks though, when I’m on my way back up to the border”\n\n“Again, are you loco amigo? The policia just left here!”\n\n“The way I figure, those are the only 3 policia in the entire Wiricuta desert. They’re all on their way to Real de Catorce for the weekend, and are getting ready to have plenty of mordida (bribe) drinking money very soon. If I’m going out to cut peyote to travel with, right now is probably the safest time to do it.”\n\nPhilipe shook his head in disbelief and headed out to catch the bus into the larger town of Matehuala a couple hours away. He’d be back in the morning. \n\nPulled the bag of peyote brujo from the folded mattress and spread the pieces out on my rooftop again to dry out a little more and just in case anyone else wanted to snoop around my room again. My head was in a pleasant haze from the kef we’d smoked, and I was getting a second wind from the Yerba Mate tea. I refilled my water, cleaned my knife, put on my headphones and headed back out into the desert to harvest. I still had at least 3 hours of daylight left. It was a beautiful day with some nice clouds streaking near the horizon. If I timed it right, and was lucky again in my search, I’d be able to take in yet another incredible technicolor desert sunset on the hike back.\n\n© 2019 Skip Hunt\n\nPatreon is now fired up again! Some posts will be public and some will be for Patreon subscribers only. I'm also going to start posting a much larger mélange of artful expression here in addition to travel stuff from the road. Content like audio experiments, stories in short chapter form, video art, and maybe something called \"Psychogeography\" projects... more on that later. \n\nPlease sign up to be one of my Patreon subscribers today! https://www.patreon.com/skiphunt\n\nIn addition, you can help support my efforts by purchasing my photography: https://skip-hunt.pixels.com\n\nAlso have  https://www.paypal.me/skiphunt for one-time gratuities :)",
      "json_metadata": "{\"image\":[\"https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmRBRVDxzNnWFgtStUgc9zpbc48zzJ35BaF5UtWR6CDw1Z/peyotebrujolores.jpg\"],\"tags\":[\"story\",\"life\",\"photography\",\"travel\",\"art\"],\"app\":\"steemit/0.1\",\"format\":\"markdown\",\"links\":[\"https://steemit.com/story/@skiphunt/peyote-brujo-part-1\",\"https://www.patreon.com/skiphunt\",\"https://skip-hunt.pixels.com\",\"https://www.paypal.me/skiphunt\"]}",
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      "permlink": "peyote-brujo-part-2",
      "title": "Peyote Brujo: Part 2"
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  "timestamp": "2019-01-14T23:12:57",
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      "body": "<center>![peyotebrujolores.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmRBRVDxzNnWFgtStUgc9zpbc48zzJ35BaF5UtWR6CDw1Z/peyotebrujolores.jpg)</center>\n\nContinued from: Peyote Brujo Part 1: https://steemit.com/story/@skiphunt/peyote-brujo-part-1\n\nHaving your brain hemispheres open up like a fleshy lotus and expose it’s pink insides to a shower of electrified comet sparkles is fine and good, but if you also feel like you’re trying to pass the cutting shards of a giant mason jar though your small intestine... no amount of comet sparkle can make that tolerable.\n\nDesperately wanted to be back in my room and closer to someone who might be able to help, like perhaps a doctor for example. Though, I don’t believe there are any doctors in Wadley or nurses for that matter. The closest medical attention would be a couple hour bus ride to Matehuala, and that’s after the hour-long hike back to Wadley. Provided, I could get back before the only afternoon bus left at 3pm.\n\nSo, I gritted my teeth, clutched my stomach, drank as much water as I could tolerate without throwing up, and tried to enjoy the psychedelic realms in my hammock... between the shooting pains.\n\nDidn’t keep track of how long the pain lasted, but I’m guessing it was the better part of 4 hours since the psychotropic effects of the peyote were starting to subside a bit. It usually last for anywhere from 6-10hrs depending on various factors. I felt like I could finally start hiking back to Wadley at least.\n\nIn flat, desert areas like this on, it’s always difficult to judge distance. I hadn’t paid attention to exactly how long Philipe and I had hiked to the oasis, and although Wadley looked to be only a half-hour or so away… it took me well over an hour and a half to get back. That could’ve been because I changed the route a little to give more time for the peyote to wear off so that it wouldn’t feel as awkward interacting with anyone I might run into in the town. \n\nWhen I got to the 2-lane road that runs all the way through this desert and along the railroad tracks, I was almost at the outer edge of Wadley. \n\nI could smell the scent of marijuana burning somewhere. That’s not entirely unusual in this area, but it smelled very strong… as if someone had just walked ahead of me smoking a joint and the smoke was still hanging. \n\nMy intense stomach cramps had calmed down almost completely, but the effects of the peyote still very much had my brain in an ecstatic state. Thought about stopping at a tienda shop to get something cold to drink and maybe some snacks before walking back to my room, but decided to go lay the bed for a little while until the peyote had worn off a little more. \n\nI was almost to the compound and noticed a white truck parked at the compound gate. Looks like Don Tomas has more guests. They must be waiting for someone to open the gate so they can pull their truck into the courtyard. \n\nGot a little closer and noticed it wasn’t just a white truck. It had “POLICIA” painted on it. One of the local boys was talking to the cop who looked like he was in charge. He had a stark look, with a bushy mustache and he looked like he was looking for someone to extort money from. I took a hard right toward another tienda to disappear into, but I was too late. The boy had already pointed toward the gringo walking into the nearby tienda. \n\nI could see the cop starting to walk toward the tienda and my heart started to race. Think fast! Oh, no… I left that bag of dried peyote brujo in a clear bag on the bed and there was still that white fiber stuff all over the floor. And, 2/3rds of that giant peyote plant was still at the bottom of the orange bag in my daypack. This isn’t going to go well for me. Think, don’t panic. Don’t look nervous. \n\nWalked out of the tienda and rounded behind it toward my room. I could tell the cop was picking up his pace and trying to catch up to me. There were two other cops at the truck with the 3 young Mexican guys from Mexico city handcuffed in the back. \n\nEvidently, the guys from Mexico City been walking just ahead of me on the road smoking a joint. The cops smelled it and searched their backpacks which were all 3 full of cut peyote plants. That explains why they went out into the desert with almost nothing in their packs other than something to sleep with. Unfortunately, they hadn’t got the memo on not smoking weed in town while the cops are snooping about. \n\nI could hear the larger cop who was following me calling out for me to stop, but I pretended not to hear. Nodded to the guys in the back of the truck and opened the padlock on my room door, grabbed the plastic bag of peyote brujo pieces and jammed it between a folded mattress in the corner. The cop had made it to my room and started banging on the door. He called out that he needed to see my passport. (in Spanish)\n\n“Señor, I must see your passport. Why didn’t you stop?”\n\n“Oh, I’m sorry… I didn’t know you were talking to me. Just a minute, I’ll get my passport.”\n\nI grabbed my passport and stuffed my wallet between the mattresses too before stepping out of the room.\n\n“United States?”\n\n“Si.”\n\n“What are you doing here?”\n\n“Visiting”\n\nThe head cop flipped through my passport and then started checking my visa to see if it was expired and had then proper stamps and signatures. One of the other two cops motioned toward my daypack I’d set down. \n\n“Hand your bag to him please, we need to search it.”\n\nI remembered the rest of that giant peyote plant in the bottom of the plastic bag of oranges, I tried not to look nervous as I handed my daypack to the other cop. He started taking items out slowly, then glancing up at me to see if I was starting to break a sweat as the cop with the mustache went over my papers. \n\nWhen he pulled out my knife that still had some dirt on it, his eyebrows went up. He opened the knife as he stared at me as if he’d found something incriminating. I shrugged. The cop then opened the knife and compared the length of the blade to the width of his hand. Evidently that’s a measure of how long a knife blade can be on your person. It was slightly over the allowed length. I silently relaxed because I thought the dirt on the knife was giving me away. \n\nThen, he lifts the the plastic bag of oranges out of the daypack and my heart sank. Still, I kept calm on the outside. The plastic bag was opaque so you couldn’t see through it. He simply patted on the plastic bag with the knife and said, “Naranjas” (oranges). He then puts the bag back into the daypack without looking into it, and folds the knife. Everything went back into the bag and he hands it back to me. Whew!\n\nThe mustache cop handed my passport back. I tried to make conversation and asked why the third cop was. They said he was getting the keys to the boy’s red Ford Fiesta car because they were being arrested and driven up to the jail in Real de Catorce. \n\nFelt bad for the boys, but they were mostly smiling. They also looked very stoned, so maybe the gravity of the situation hadn’t quite hit them yet. Still, I was rejoicing silently inside that I was about to avert this trip going very badly for me. \n\nUntil, the mustache cop said he wanted to search my room. All that inner joy came to a complete stop. I was also feeling the tail-end of the peyote effects and my head was racing. I said:\n\n“No problemo”\n\nHe followed me into the room. I tossed my daypack to the middle of a long table in the room so it didn’t look like I was trying to hide anything in the bag they’d just searched, and then calmly sat on the edge of the bed while started looking around. \n\n“What are you really doing here amigo? You’re here to eat the peyote aren’t you?”\n\n“No. I told you I only came here to write. See my laptop on the table?”\n\nHe looked toward the laptop and looked moved some loose items around looking underneath as he moved through the room.\n\n“Yes, I see the computer… but many of the foreigners carry them. Tell me why you’re here.”\n\n“Only writing. I like to come here to the desert for inspiration and the quiet.”\n\nHe started kicking his police boot around the floor and moving the white fibers from the peyote brujo that were still there. My pulse went up a few notches. \n\n“If you are not here for the peyote, why is all of this peyote fiber on the floor? You cleaned a plant in here didn’t you?”\n\n“No, I told you before why I’m here. I don’t know what that fiber is. It was here when I got here. I need to sweep. It’s a dirty room and I need to sweep.”\n\nHe then walked around the room another time, looking into dusty storage boxes and over to the folded mattress on a rollaway bed where I’d stashed the bag of dried peyote brujo pieces. He rolled it around once. The mattress was filthy so he didn’t stick his hand into the fold to check. \n\nDetermined to find something to bust me for, he sauntered over toward a video camera I had on a tripod in the room. I’d carried it along with me to get interesting travel shots along the way. He asked:\n\n“You are here only to write?”\n\n“Yes”\n\n“Then why do you have this professional movie camera?”\n\n“Because I’m working on a story for a movie I’d like to make and I’m using the video camera to record some of the possible locations.”\n\nI’d heard that another movie had filmed up in Real de Catorce a couple years prior and it had infused a lot of money into the town. Brad Pitt and Julia Davis are in it. I think it’s called “The Mexican” or something like that. \n\nAnyway, I knew that the primary motivation for the cops in the area, and most of Mexico for that matter, seemed to be making a little cash on the side. And, I needed to think of a way to distract this guy quick as he headed back over toward the folded mattress after running his hand underneath the mattress on my bed. \n\n“You know... I was just thinking... if everything works out this this movie script I’m working on and I find people with money to finance making it, I’ll be back here with a crew.”\n\nI remembered that I’d recently had new business cards made and I’d put an icon of a movie reel on them, along with a camera, and a couple others. The reel would make it look like I was really a filmmaker. Walked over to the table to get a card our of my wallet and motioned for him to accept it in order to divert him from proceeding toward the folded mattress.\n\n“If, I find the money and can make this film happen, I’m going to need to hire someone for security during the shoot. Would you be available for something like that?”\n\nHe studied the business card I’d handed him.\n\n“It’d be paid of course.”\n\nHis eyes lit up as he looked up from the business card.\n\n“You would hire me for the security on a pelicula? (film)\n\n“I don’t see why not. I’ll need someone with and you’re the only one with that kind of experience that I’ve met here.”\n\nI started walking toward the door where the other 2 cops were waiting with the 3 Mexican guys in the back of the truck. The guys weren’t smiling anymore as I think the high was starting to wear off and they realized what was happening. The third cop had loaded their belongings into their Ford Fiesta and had just pulled it out of the courtyard.\n\nAs I stepped outside the room the mustached cop luckily followed behind.\n\n“What’s going to happen to those guys?”\n\n“They are all under arrest for cutting peyote in the desert. All their backpacks were full of it to take back to Mexico City to sell. They were also smoking mota (marijuana) along the road. Muy estupido (very stupid)”\n\nThe other cops asked the mustached one if I was clean. He told them I was only working on a movie and wanted to hire him for security. \n\n“We are taking these compadres up to Real de Catorce for processing. The only jail we are using now is the one up there.”\n\nI waved sympathetically toward the guys in the back of the truck. They half-heartily waved back and cracked nervous smiles. They’d probably be fine. The cops would likely keep their car and whatever mordida (bribes) the cops could get their parents to send, and they’d be on their way in a few days.\n\nThe cop with the mustache got into the passenger side of the police truck. After he slammed the door shut he leaned out smiling and waved my business card toward me. He yelled “Don’t forget me for security when you come back to make your movie!”\n\nI smiled and answered, “Por supuesto! (of course)”\n\nAs the police truck pulled out leaving a cloud fine desert dust hanging int the air, it was followed by the 3rd cop in the boy’s Ford Fiesta. He rolled down the window and cranked up the stereo  and started banging his head along to whatever heavy metal music the boys had last been listening to while pretending to sing along. I could still make out the expressions of the boy’s faces. Their high had definitely worn off and they did not look amused.\n\nWent back into my room after first giving the stink eye to the little boy who’d first spotted me and pointed my way as I walked in from the desert. He laughed at me and ran off. \n\nI stood in my room shaking for a few moments realizing how close I got to ending up in the back of that police truck too. I didn’t have anyone to call who’d bail me out and it definitely would not have gone well.\n\nOpened the other door of my room that went out into the courtyard. I could see Philipe’s door was open. Walked over and peeked in. Philipe was as white as a ghost and shaking a little.  I asked:\n\n“Hey amigo! Did you see what just happened?”\n\n“Yeah, one of those cops came banging on my door and wanted to search my room.”\n\n“Oh no! They didn’t find your bag of kef?!”\n\n“No, luckily I heard them march the Mexican guy’s in here to get the keys to their car. There’s no where to hide anything in these rooms so I jammed my bag of kef and pipe up above the roof beam and tin roof. Luckily my main stash is still in a pack I have a Don Tomas’ casa.\n\n“The Mexican guys were walking along the road smoking weed right as they walked into the town. That’s how they got caught.”\n\n“Idiots! Look at my hands, I can’t stop shaking. That could’ve gone very badly for me!”\n\n“I know! One of the town boys pointed at the gringo walking into the tienda nearby. I have no idea why the boy would do that.”\n\n“I’m sure he was just answering to the cops and didn’t mean harm. Did you end up eating that giant peyote cactus?”\n\nTold Philipe everything that had just happened. About the peyote brujo bag on my bed, getting searched, and about promising to hire the head policia as security on a movie set. Philipe couldn’t believe it. \n\n“How did you think of that?”\n\n“I was in a panic and making it up as I went… trying not to look nervous.”\n\n“Man, you are very lucky! They would’ve loved to catch themselves a gringo for sure!” \n\nPhilipe asked if the police were still in the town. I told him they’d left and were on their way up to the police station in Real de Catorce with the boy’s and their car. \n\nHe pulled the bag of kef down from the roof beam, along with his special kef pipe. \n\n“You want to have a smoke? I need a quick one to calm down.”\n\n“Yeah, that sounds like exactly what I need right now.”\n\nWe moved into the cocina (kitchen) to pass Philipe’s pipe for a few minutes and shared his Yerba Mate tea gourd. Philipe asked:\n\n“What are you going to do now? I need to catch the afternoon bus to Matehuala to buy a bike. I’m going to be here for 3 months so I want to get a bicycle to get around while I’m here.”\n\n“I think I’m going back out into the desert to cut more peyote.”\n\n“What?! Are you crazy?! We almost got busted!”\n\n“Well, I was thinking of moving on in a couple days and I have a friend in Puerto Vallarta who wanted to try peyote. He’s older and won’t likely make it out to the desert, so I agreed to bring him some. I’ll be back in a few weeks though, when I’m on my way back up to the border”\n\n“Again, are you loco amigo? The policia just left here!”\n\n“The way I figure, those are the only 3 policia in the entire Wiricuta desert. They’re all on their way to Real de Catorce for the weekend, and are getting ready to have plenty of mordida (bribe) drinking money very soon. If I’m going out to cut peyote to travel with, right now is probably the safest time to do it.”\n\nPhilipe shook his head in disbelief and headed out to catch the bus into the larger town of Matehuala a couple hours away. He’d be back in the morning. \n\nPulled the bag of peyote brujo from the folded mattress and spread the pieces out on my rooftop again to dry out a little more and just in case anyone else wanted to snoop around my room again. My head was in a pleasant haze from the kef we’d smoked, and I was getting a second wind from the Yerba Mate tea. I refilled my water, cleaned my knife, put on my headphones and headed back out into the desert to harvest. I still had at least 3 hours of daylight left. It was a beautiful day with some nice clouds streaking near the horizon. If I timed it right, and was lucky again in my search, I’d be able to take in yet another incredible technicolor desert sunset on the hike back.\n\n© 2019 Skip Hunt\n\nPatreon is now fired up again! Some posts will be public and some will be for Patreon subscribers only. I'm also going to start posting a much larger mélange of artful expression here in addition to travel stuff from the road. Content like audio experiments, stories in short chapter form, video art, and maybe something called \"Psychogeography\" projects... more on that later. \n\nPlease sign up to be one of my Patreon subscribers today! https://www.patreon.com/skiphunt\n\nIn addition, you can help support my efforts by purchasing my photography: https://skip-hunt.pixels.com\n\nAlso have  https://www.paypal.me/skiphunt for one-time gratuities :)",
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      "body": "@@ -23140,36 +23140,17 @@\n .%0A%0A(\n-To be c\n+C\n ontinued\n-... Next Post\n : Pe\n@@ -23166,17 +23166,18 @@\n o Part 2\n-)\n+ -\n  https:/\n@@ -23224,16 +23224,18 @@\n o-part-2\n+ )\n %0A%0A%C2%A9 2019\n",
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      "body": "@@ -23186,8 +23186,729 @@\n  Part 2)\n+ https://steemit.com/story/@skiphunt/peyote-brujo-part-2%0A%0A%C2%A9 2019 Skip Hunt%0A%0APatreon is now fired up again! Some posts will be public and some will be for Patreon subscribers only. I'm also going to start posting a much larger m%C3%A9lange of artful expression here in addition to travel stuff from the road. Content like audio experiments, stories in short chapter form, video art, and maybe something called %22Psychogeography%22 projects... more on that later. %0A%0APlease sign up to be one of my Patreon subscribers today! https://www.patreon.com/skiphunt%0A%0AIn addition, you can help support my efforts by purchasing my photography: https://skip-hunt.pixels.com%0A%0AAlso have  https://www.paypal.me/skiphunt for one-time gratuities :)\n",
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      "body": "<center>![peyotebrujolores.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmRBRVDxzNnWFgtStUgc9zpbc48zzJ35BaF5UtWR6CDw1Z/peyotebrujolores.jpg)</center>\n\nContinued from: Peyote Brujo Part 1: https://steemit.com/story/@skiphunt/peyote-brujo-part-1\n\nHaving your brain hemispheres open up like a fleshy lotus and expose it’s pink insides to a shower of electrified comet sparkles is fine and good, but if you also feel like you’re trying to pass the cutting shards of a giant mason jar though your small intestine... no amount of comet sparkle can make that tolerable.\n\nDesperately wanted to be back in my room and closer to someone who might be able to help, like perhaps a doctor for example. Though, I don’t believe there are any doctors in Wadley or nurses for that matter. The closest medical attention would be a couple hour bus ride to Matehuala, and that’s after the hour-long hike back to Wadley. Provided, I could get back before the only afternoon bus left at 3pm.\n\nSo, I gritted my teeth, clutched my stomach, drank as much water as I could tolerate without throwing up, and tried to enjoy the psychedelic realms in my hammock... between the shooting pains.\n\nDidn’t keep track of how long the pain lasted, but I’m guessing it was the better part of 4 hours since the psychotropic effects of the peyote were starting to subside a bit. It usually last for anywhere from 6-10hrs depending on various factors. I felt like I could finally start hiking back to Wadley at least.\n\nIn flat, desert areas like this on, it’s always difficult to judge distance. I hadn’t paid attention to exactly how long Philipe and I had hiked to the oasis, and although Wadley looked to be only a half-hour or so away… it took me well over an hour and a half to get back. That could’ve been because I changed the route a little to give more time for the peyote to wear off so that it wouldn’t feel as awkward interacting with anyone I might run into in the town. \n\nWhen I got to the 2-lane road that runs all the way through this desert and along the railroad tracks, I was almost at the outer edge of Wadley. \n\nI could smell the scent of marijuana burning somewhere. That’s not entirely unusual in this area, but it smelled very strong… as if someone had just walked ahead of me smoking a joint and the smoke was still hanging. \n\nMy intense stomach cramps had calmed down almost completely, but the effects of the peyote still very much had my brain in an ecstatic state. Thought about stopping at a tienda shop to get something cold to drink and maybe some snacks before walking back to my room, but decided to go lay the bed for a little while until the peyote had worn off a little more. \n\nI was almost to the compound and noticed a white truck parked at the compound gate. Looks like Don Tomas has more guests. They must be waiting for someone to open the gate so they can pull their truck into the courtyard. \n\nGot a little closer and noticed it wasn’t just a white truck. It had “POLICIA” painted on it. One of the local boys was talking to the cop who looked like he was in charge. He had a stark look, with a bushy mustache and he looked like he was looking for someone to extort money from. I took a hard right toward another tienda to disappear into, but I was too late. The boy had already pointed toward the gringo walking into the nearby tienda. \n\nI could see the cop starting to walk toward the tienda and my heart started to race. Think fast! Oh, no… I left that bag of dried peyote brujo in a clear bag on the bed and there was still that white fiber stuff all over the floor. And, 2/3rds of that giant peyote plant was still at the bottom of the orange bag in my daypack. This isn’t going to go well for me. Think, don’t panic. Don’t look nervous. \n\nWalked out of the tienda and rounded behind it toward my room. I could tell the cop was picking up his pace and trying to catch up to me. There were two other cops at the truck with the 3 young Mexican guys from Mexico city handcuffed in the back. \n\nEvidently, the guys from Mexico City been walking just ahead of me on the road smoking a joint. The cops smelled it and searched their backpacks which were all 3 full of cut peyote plants. That explains why they went out into the desert with almost nothing in their packs other than something to sleep with. Unfortunately, they hadn’t got the memo on not smoking weed in town while the cops are snooping about. \n\nI could hear the larger cop who was following me calling out for me to stop, but I pretended not to hear. Nodded to the guys in the back of the truck and opened the padlock on my room door, grabbed the plastic bag of peyote brujo pieces and jammed it between a folded mattress in the corner. The cop had made it to my room and started banging on the door. He called out that he needed to see my passport. (in Spanish)\n\n“Señor, I must see your passport. Why didn’t you stop?”\n\n“Oh, I’m sorry… I didn’t know you were talking to me. Just a minute, I’ll get my passport.”\n\nI grabbed my passport and stuffed my wallet between the mattresses too before stepping out of the room.\n\n“United States?”\n\n“Si.”\n\n“What are you doing here?”\n\n“Visiting”\n\nThe head cop flipped through my passport and then started checking my visa to see if it was expired and had then proper stamps and signatures. One of the other two cops motioned toward my daypack I’d set down. \n\n“Hand your bag to him please, we need to search it.”\n\nI remembered the rest of that giant peyote plant in the bottom of the plastic bag of oranges, I tried not to look nervous as I handed my daypack to the other cop. He started taking items out slowly, then glancing up at me to see if I was starting to break a sweat as the cop with the mustache went over my papers. \n\nWhen he pulled out my knife that still had some dirt on it, his eyebrows went up. He opened the knife as he stared at me as if he’d found something incriminating. I shrugged. The cop then opened the knife and compared the length of the blade to the width of his hand. Evidently that’s a measure of how long a knife blade can be on your person. It was slightly over the allowed length. I silently relaxed because I thought the dirt on the knife was giving me away. \n\nThen, he lifts the the plastic bag of oranges out of the daypack and my heart sank. Still, I kept calm on the outside. The plastic bag was opaque so you couldn’t see through it. He simply patted on the plastic bag with the knife and said, “Naranjas” (oranges). He then puts the bag back into the daypack without looking into it, and folds the knife. Everything went back into the bag and he hands it back to me. Whew!\n\nThe mustache cop handed my passport back. I tried to make conversation and asked why the third cop was. They said he was getting the keys to the boy’s red Ford Fiesta car because they were being arrested and driven up to the jail in Real de Catorce. \n\nFelt bad for the boys, but they were mostly smiling. They also looked very stoned, so maybe the gravity of the situation hadn’t quite hit them yet. Still, I was rejoicing silently inside that I was about to avert this trip going very badly for me. \n\nUntil, the mustache cop said he wanted to search my room. All that inner joy came to a complete stop. I was also feeling the tail-end of the peyote effects and my head was racing. I said:\n\n“No problemo”\n\nHe followed me into the room. I tossed my daypack to the middle of a long table in the room so it didn’t look like I was trying to hide anything in the bag they’d just searched, and then calmly sat on the edge of the bed while started looking around. \n\n“What are you really doing here amigo? You’re here to eat the peyote aren’t you?”\n\n“No. I told you I only came here to write. See my laptop on the table?”\n\nHe looked toward the laptop and looked moved some loose items around looking underneath as he moved through the room.\n\n“Yes, I see the computer… but many of the foreigners carry them. Tell me why you’re here.”\n\n“Only writing. I like to come here to the desert for inspiration and the quiet.”\n\nHe started kicking his police boot around the floor and moving the white fibers from the peyote brujo that were still there. My pulse went up a few notches. \n\n“If you are not here for the peyote, why is all of this peyote fiber on the floor? You cleaned a plant in here didn’t you?”\n\n“No, I told you before why I’m here. I don’t know what that fiber is. It was here when I got here. I need to sweep. It’s a dirty room and I need to sweep.”\n\nHe then walked around the room another time, looking into dusty storage boxes and over to the folded mattress on a rollaway bed where I’d stashed the bag of dried peyote brujo pieces. He rolled it around once. The mattress was filthy so he didn’t stick his hand into the fold to check. \n\nDetermined to find something to bust me for, he sauntered over toward a video camera I had on a tripod in the room. I’d carried it along with me to get interesting travel shots along the way. He asked:\n\n“You are here only to write?”\n\n“Yes”\n\n“Then why do you have this professional movie camera?”\n\n“Because I’m working on a story for a movie I’d like to make and I’m using the video camera to record some of the possible locations.”\n\nI’d heard that another movie had filmed up in Real de Catorce a couple years prior and it had infused a lot of money into the town. Brad Pitt and Julia Davis are in it. I think it’s called “The Mexican” or something like that. \n\nAnyway, I knew that the primary motivation for the cops in the area, and most of Mexico for that matter, seemed to be making a little cash on the side. And, I needed to think of a way to distract this guy quick as he headed back over toward the folded mattress after running his hand underneath the mattress on my bed. \n\n“You know... I was just thinking... if everything works out this this movie script I’m working on and I find people with money to finance making it, I’ll be back here with a crew.”\n\nI remembered that I’d recently had new business cards made and I’d put an icon of a movie reel on them, along with a camera, and a couple others. The reel would make it look like I was really a filmmaker. Walked over to the table to get a card our of my wallet and motioned for him to accept it in order to divert him from proceeding toward the folded mattress.\n\n“If, I find the money and can make this film happen, I’m going to need to hire someone for security during the shoot. Would you be available for something like that?”\n\nHe studied the business card I’d handed him.\n\n“It’d be paid of course.”\n\nHis eyes lit up as he looked up from the business card.\n\n“You would hire me for the security on a pelicula? (film)\n\n“I don’t see why not. I’ll need someone with and you’re the only one with that kind of experience that I’ve met here.”\n\nI started walking toward the door where the other 2 cops were waiting with the 3 Mexican guys in the back of the truck. The guys weren’t smiling anymore as I think the high was starting to wear off and they realized what was happening. The third cop had loaded their belongings into their Ford Fiesta and had just pulled it out of the courtyard.\n\nAs I stepped outside the room the mustached cop luckily followed behind.\n\n“What’s going to happen to those guys?”\n\n“They are all under arrest for cutting peyote in the desert. All their backpacks were full of it to take back to Mexico City to sell. They were also smoking mota (marijuana) along the road. Muy estupido (very stupid)”\n\nThe other cops asked the mustached one if I was clean. He told them I was only working on a movie and wanted to hire him for security. \n\n“We are taking these compadres up to Real de Catorce for processing. The only jail we are using now is the one up there.”\n\nI waved sympathetically toward the guys in the back of the truck. They half-heartily waved back and cracked nervous smiles. They’d probably be fine. The cops would likely keep their car and whatever mordida (bribes) the cops could get their parents to send, and they’d be on their way in a few days.\n\nThe cop with the mustache got into the passenger side of the police truck. After he slammed the door shut he leaned out smiling and waved my business card toward me. He yelled “Don’t forget me for security when you come back to make your movie!”\n\nI smiled and answered, “Por supuesto! (of course)”\n\nAs the police truck pulled out leaving a cloud fine desert dust hanging int the air, it was followed by the 3rd cop in the boy’s Ford Fiesta. He rolled down the window and cranked up the stereo  and started banging his head along to whatever heavy metal music the boys had last been listening to while pretending to sing along. I could still make out the expressions of the boy’s faces. Their high had definitely worn off and they did not look amused.\n\nWent back into my room after first giving the stink eye to the little boy who’d first spotted me and pointed my way as I walked in from the desert. He laughed at me and ran off. \n\nI stood in my room shaking for a few moments realizing how close I got to ending up in the back of that police truck too. I didn’t have anyone to call who’d bail me out and it definitely would not have gone well.\n\nOpened the other door of my room that went out into the courtyard. I could see Philipe’s door was open. Walked over and peeked in. Philipe was as white as a ghost and shaking a little.  I asked:\n\n“Hey amigo! Did you see what just happened?”\n\n“Yeah, one of those cops came banging on my door and wanted to search my room.”\n\n“Oh no! They didn’t find your bag of kef?!”\n\n“No, luckily I heard them march the Mexican guy’s in here to get the keys to their car. There’s no where to hide anything in these rooms so I jammed my bag of kef and pipe up above the roof beam and tin roof. Luckily my main stash is still in a pack I have a Don Tomas’ casa.\n\n“The Mexican guys were walking along the road smoking weed right as they walked into the town. That’s how they got caught.”\n\n“Idiots! Look at my hands, I can’t stop shaking. That could’ve gone very badly for me!”\n\n“I know! One of the town boys pointed at the gringo walking into the tienda nearby. I have no idea why the boy would do that.”\n\n“I’m sure he was just answering to the cops and didn’t mean harm. Did you end up eating that giant peyote cactus?”\n\nTold Philipe everything that had just happened. About the peyote brujo bag on my bed, getting searched, and about promising to hire the head policia as security on a movie set. Philipe couldn’t believe it. \n\n“How did you think of that?”\n\n“I was in a panic and making it up as I went… trying not to look nervous.”\n\n“Man, you are very lucky! They would’ve loved to catch themselves a gringo for sure!” \n\nPhilipe asked if the police were still in the town. I told him they’d left and were on their way up to the police station in Real de Catorce with the boy’s and their car. \n\nHe pulled the bag of kef down from the roof beam, along with his special kef pipe. \n\n“You want to have a smoke? I need a quick one to calm down.”\n\n“Yeah, that sounds like exactly what I need right now.”\n\nWe moved into the cocina (kitchen) to pass Philipe’s pipe for a few minutes and shared his Yerba Mate tea gourd. Philipe asked:\n\n“What are you going to do now? I need to catch the afternoon bus to Matehuala to buy a bike. I’m going to be here for 3 months so I want to get a bicycle to get around while I’m here.”\n\n“I think I’m going back out into the desert to cut more peyote.”\n\n“What?! Are you crazy?! We almost got busted!”\n\n“Well, I was thinking of moving on in a couple days and I have a friend in Puerto Vallarta who wanted to try peyote. He’s older and won’t likely make it out to the desert, so I agreed to bring him some. I’ll be back in a few weeks though, when I’m on my way back up to the border”\n\n“Again, are you loco amigo? The policia just left here!”\n\n“The way I figure, those are the only 3 policia in the entire Wiricuta desert. They’re all on their way to Real de Catorce for the weekend, and are getting ready to have plenty of mordida (bribe) drinking money very soon. If I’m going out to cut peyote to travel with, right now is probably the safest time to do it.”\n\nPhilipe shook his head in disbelief and headed out to catch the bus into the larger town of Matehuala a couple hours away. He’d be back in the morning. \n\nPulled the bag of peyote brujo from the folded mattress and spread the pieces out on my rooftop again to dry out a little more and just in case anyone else wanted to snoop around my room again. My head was in a pleasant haze from the kef we’d smoked, and I was getting a second wind from the Yerba Mate tea. I refilled my water, cleaned my knife, put on my headphones and headed back out into the desert to harvest. I still had at least 3 hours of daylight left. It was a beautiful day with some nice clouds streaking near the horizon. If I timed it right, and was lucky again in my search, I’d be able to take in yet another incredible technicolor desert sunset on the hike back.\n\n© 2019 Skip Hunt\n\nPatreon is now fired up again! Some posts will be public and some will be for Patreon subscribers only. I'm also going to start posting a much larger mélange of artful expression here in addition to travel stuff from the road. Content like audio experiments, stories in short chapter form, video art, and maybe something called \"Psychogeography\" projects... more on that later. \n\nPlease sign up to be one of my Patreon subscribers today! https://www.patreon.com/skiphunt\n\nIn addition, you can help support my efforts by purchasing my photography: https://skip-hunt.pixels.com\n\nAlso have  https://www.paypal.me/skiphunt for one-time gratuities :)",
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      "body": "![peyotesnakeMED.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmSVVsa5eAtpmSBsV8c6h85Y1jekb7Q1waL47hhinMxnsB/peyotesnakeMED.jpg)\n\nOne of the desert regions in Mexico, in the state of San Luis Potosi, is considered sacred to the indigenous tribe called Huicholes. They call the region “Wiricuta” or “Huiricuta” and it’s just North of the city of San Luis Potosi and even closer to the town of Matehuala. There’s a popular tourist town up in the Sierra Madres that line the desert below called Real de Catorce. Wiricuta is the desert below. \n\nOne of the nearby mountain peaks, maybe an hour hike on foot from Real de Catorce, is called “Quemado” by the locals. The way it was explained to me is that the very first Huichole saw the very first sunrise coming up over Quemado. The Huichole believe that the head of each family must make a pilgrimage through the desert and up to the peak of Quemado every 3 years for peyote rituals. They believe this practice must continue in order for the Sun to continue to rise. Peyote is used along the way and these colorful god’s eye crosses made of wood and colored yarn are placed at different points along the sacred route. \n\nThis practice has gone on for possibly a couple thousand years. In the past, the journey would be made on foot all the way from the Nayarit region where the Huichole live. Now most of the journey is taken by bus and the last week or so on foot. \n\nI’ve never participated in one of the Huichole ceremonies, but I have come across the yarn crosses they leave along the route. I’ve also visited the ceremonial grounds above Real de Catorce, atop Quemado. There are several primitive concentric circles made of stones and many more of the yarn crosses left behind. Often they have a photo of a loved Huichole, children, etc. and some pesos and candles left behind. I believe they carry the prayers of the loved ones up to the ceremonial site and the objects as offerings. \n\nI’m not an expert on Huichole tribal and spiritual culture, but having gone to the sacred Wiricuta myself on several occasions, one hears lots of stories. \n\nThe first time I went there was back in 1994. Another backpacker from Austria had told me about it. Or, rather… a couple of years after we’d met on the road, he sent me a photo of himself in this desert. There was a peace about him in the photo. He was just standing out in this dry expanse with mountains in the background, a simple Mexican poncho, a wooden staff, and he looked dusty. \n\nNot long after the letter and photo had arrived in the mail, I heard from him. It’s been a long time now, but I think his name is Gerard. He was passing through Texas on his way to visit other places in the U.S. and contacted me to see if it’d be cool to visit. \n\nGerard only stayed a few days, but before he continued on his journey, he gave me instructions on how to get to a place in the desert called Wadley. And, he told me to ask for an older local man, Don Tomas. Gerard said to mention his name to Don Tomas and he’d fix me up. \n\nI’d been to Wadley several times when this particular story takes place, and Don Tomas did indeed fix me up. Every time I returned to Wadley I’d go straight to Don Tomas’ house for a key to one of the several rooms he rented to backpackers. He had a couple of enclosed compounds with around a half dozen basic rooms with a smooth concrete floor, tin roof, metal door with padlock, and a shared toilet that you have to fill up a bucket and dump into the commode to flush. Basic. \n\nDon Tomas also had a few rooms next to his home as well, and pretty much all of the walls in his rooms were adobe. \n\nOn this particular visit, I stayed in the compound just above Don Tomas’ place, on the other side of the only 2-lane road that extends the entire length of Wiricuta. All of the half dozen little villages along the road were there basically as depots for the train that also runs the entire length of Wiricuta. The upper compound is a bit further from the train track and pretty much on the very outskirts of town. \n\nThe lower compound is interesting in that it’s right in the middle of town, where you can hear all of the sounds of life there. And, it’s closer to the little tienda stores where you can get snacks, water, candles, etc. However, the lower compound is only a few meters from the train track. When a locomotive comes barreling by, the force shakes everything violently. The train whistle sounds like it’s right there in the room. You do get used to it after a while. I sometimes prefer the lower compound because of the sounds of life, and the train reminds me that the rest of the world is still powering along, while time feels like it stands still in Wadley. \n\nSometimes there are a handful of other backpackers there too. Whether that’s a good thing or not, is often a roll of the dice. You can end up with some loud partiers who don’t clean up their messes and are up all hours of the night. Or, you can end up with a quiet group that you get along with. Other times I’m completely by myself. \n\nEach compound has it’s own little kitchen or cocina. It’s a bit generous to call it a “kitchen”. There’s a small gas stove, that if you’re lucky, Don Tomas has paid for a fresh tank of gas. There’s a scattering of various pots and pans, plates cups, utensils, etc. If you’re extra lucky, the last people there might’ve cleaned them all up. If you’re not so lucky, they’re all stacked up with varying degrees of food decaying. \n\nIf it’s all dirty, I’ll usually clean it all up once and grab a cup, plate, spoon, and a small pot to boil my water for coffee. I’ll keep this in my room for the duration and clean them up again before I leave.\n\nDon Tomas had first taken me to the lower compound, but I spotted a fair amount of empty cerveza bottles strewn about, some bongo drums, and a beat up guitar leaning on one of the room doors. Looked like a party.\n\nI asked Don Tomas what the situation was like at the upper compound. He said it was empty, except for Philipe. He said Philipe is French and pretty quiet. Done! Vamanos to the upper compound then. \n\nThese compounds are kind of a hodgepodge of repurposed rooms. I think the rooms in the lower compound were at one time stalls for pigs. I’m not sure what the upper compound was originally used for, but it was likely not built for housing backpacker peyote-eating hippies. \n\nThe upper compound had a large storage room with a huge table and a bunch of junk. Don Tomas had shown me the other available rooms, but I asked if I could stay in the large storage room instead. I told him I saw a bed in there and I’d clean it up since I’d be there a couple weeks. He said that’d be fine but was trying to tell me something about the room to beware of. My Spanish has never been completely fluent, and Don Tomas slurs a lot… likely due to a lot of missing teeth. \n\nThe first thing I finally gathered was that he was telling me to be wary of police. That they’d been visiting off and on. That there wasn’t any reason to be worried, but don’t bring any peyote cactus in from the desert. \n\nThe second thing he was warning me about, I didn’t comprehend  until later when the train came through town. Don Tomas was telling me that when the train comes through, it vibrates fine dust from the tin roof that falls like snow for a few seconds. Not ideal, but tolerable. \n\nDon Tomas helped me push some of the junk into the corner, and he gathered up most of the garbage and swept the floor. I organized some of the storage to make more room and made the bed that was in the corner of the room. By the time we finished, I had a large empty table all to myself, and at least 3/4ths of the room cleared. \n\nAfter we’d decided it was cleaned well enough, Don Tomas took off to tend to his goats and I went to check out the kitchen situation and hopefully score myself a good cup, spoon, plate and boiling pot for the duration. I noticed the door to the room Don Tomas said Philipe was using was open and I could hear some music playing. Decided to introduce myself.\n\nPhilipe was lounging on his bed reading while puffing on a long skinny pipe. After introductions, I asked him about the strange pipe. The name of the pipe I couldn’t understand, but he said it was a special pipe he got in Morocco for smoking “kef”. Didn’t know what that was either. He pulled out a small bag that had a bright green powder in it and filled the tiny bowl of the pipe. I asked if it was similar to marijuana. Philipe said it was the same plant but a refined variant of just the most potent portion of the plant. He lit up the bowl and asked it I wanted any, but I declined. Told him that I would like to try it, but later on after I got all situated with buying some fruit, water, candles etc. Explained that I have a very low tolerance to marijuana and tend to get way too high very quickly.\n\nLater that evening I saw Philipe chilling out in the compound kitchen with a coffee, a little portable cassette player, and his long, skinny exotic kef pipe. I’d just treated myself to a bottle of Mexican Coca-cola from the tienda and thought perhaps I’d have a seat at the table and see what this strange “kef” substance was all about. My room was all situated nicely for the next couple of weeks, I didn’t need to interact with anyone else, and my bed was only about 30 paces away. \n\nIt was very easy to smoke. Didn’t take much either, at least for me. Generally, I don’t much care for the cloudy effects of partaking in this sort of smoke. The paranoia, confusion, and the hit your short term memory can take are not so pleasant for me. The relaxing part can be quite nice if I don’t over do it. \n\nThe sensation from smoking Philipe’s kef was different than what I’d ever experienced before. I late discovered that Philipe was also quite the expert in high quality cannabis products, so this was likely of the highest grade. Strong for sure. Very strong. Though, I don’t recall having all the paranoia or confusion. It was more of a focussed cerebral experience where I felt like my brain was operating just fine, but on a higher level of plane. \n\nI can’t remember how long we talked, but I never felt like I was “out of it”. Perfectly engaged and we traded stories most of the night. It must’ve been near 3AM when we finally decided to call it a night. \n\nThe next morning, there wasn’t a cloudy feeling or anything. Mind was clear and more focussed. Normally, for me it’s the opposite and why I typically will abstain. I guess there’s something to be said for the quality of being absolutely pure. The next day our quiet compound was invaded by 3 college-age guys from Mexico City, “Chavos”, slang for city boys. The compound has a large metal door that you can drive a vehicle through, and the new neighbors pulled their red Ford Fiesta right into the middle of the compound. They all three looked pretty stoned and like they were there to party. They tossed out 3 large backpacks onto the ground that were mostly empty, other than sleeping bags and they went to the tienda to load up on drinking water before hiking into the desert. Seemed odd that they didn’t seem to be carrying much in this huge backpacks, but you really don’t need much out in the desert anyway and knowing they were as least taking the party out into the desert was a relief.\n\nChatted with Don Tomas earlier in the morning when I was on my tienda run for some instant coffee. I’d seen a police truck parked at one of the shacks that doubled as a make-shift bar. Mentioned the sighting to Don Tomas. There was an old jail house in the town that appeared to be abandoned every time I’d visited, but maybe it’d been recommissioned? Don Tomas told me not to worry. That the policia were only making rounds of the desert for someone to shake down. He said there were all corrupt, but that those 3 policias were the only ones in the entire desert. Don Tomas said their station is in the next town Estacion Catorce. \n\nBackpackers often either hike down the mountain from the touristy town of Real de Catorce near Quemado to Estacion Catorce, or they take a taxi jeep. They call the jeeps “Willy’s” because that’s their brand I think. The 3 cops stay scarce until they see the backpackers coming back into town form the desert to catch a Willy back up to Real de Catorce. Then, they surprise them with a body search. If they’re carrying any peyote cactus, it’s a 50 peso fine for each plant. Pretty good extra drinking money, especially with the weekend approaching.\n\nDon Tomas said he they show up in Wadley only if they haven’t caught anyone in Estacion Catorce in awhile. He also said not to worry about it. That they won’t bother you unless they can smell marijuana or think you’ve just come back from the desert. Then, they might search you. \n\nI thanked Don Tomas and headed out into the desert for a little hike. There’s a place I like to go that’s easy to get to. Well, everywhere is pretty easy to get to, it’s all mostly flat. It’s the thick patches of cactus that make some areas a little more tricky to get to. Many of the cactuses out there have needle-sharp thorns that can be as long as 3 whole inches and can pierce all the way through your hiking shoes into your feet it you hit them just right. \n\nThe spot I like to go to usually has plenty of peyote cactus growing near by, a scraggily mesquite tree for a little shade, and sandy paths leading right to it that the goat herders use. You’ve still got to watch out for stray cactus thorns, but it’s much easier than hiking straight through the brush. \n\nOn any given trip out into Wiricuta, I’ll just take off in any ol’ random direction and keep walking for hours. You can’t really get lost because you can see several kilometers in any direction no matter which way you go. This time I just went out to my mesquite tree location to inspect how much peyote was out in the general vicinity this time. It varies. Sometimes it’s all over the place, and other times it requires a longer search.\n\nThere was plenty, but I also noticed this other plant I’d never seen before. I’d heard of it, and only knew that it looked similar to peyote, but it’s meet was more pinkish purple inside instead of the light green of peyote. It’s called “Peyote Brujo” and reportedly very strong. I’d been told that only shaman’s mess with it. \n\nI pulled out my knife and cut into the top a little to reveal the meat. Sure enough, it was pinkish purple. Wasn’t sure if I wanted to risk experimenting with an unknown like this, but was thrilled to have finally found some. I cut it out of the ground and into small pieces and bagged it so I could hide it easier in case I happened to see those policia poking around on the hike back to Wadley. Didn’t know how it was supposed to be consumed yet either, but I knew one of the other backpackers in town would likely know. \n\nBack at the compound I showed my find to Philipe. He’s more knowledgeable about the cultural specifics of the Huichol Indians. He had even talked the University back in France into financing his whole trip as “research” for 3 months. I believe he was studying the sociological effects on indigenous cultures when they’re exposed to foreign tourists… or something like that.\n\nPhilipe confirmed I’d indeed found some Peyote Brujo. He said he’d never tried it before but that it was known to be very powerful and not to be trifled with. Said pretty much only shamans use Peyote Brujo and that they typically dry the cactus pieces first, grind into a powder, then it’s smoked. \n\nI hadn’t decided if I’d risk experimenting with it yet. But I figured I could at least prep it just in case I was game or wanted to pass it off to another backpacker later.The climate is so dry in Wiricuta that it wouldn’t take any time at all to completely dry the cactus. \n\nThe center of the cactus was full of fine white fiber that you have to clean out first, just like the regular peyote plant. It’s almost like a coarse fibers substance and there were bits of it all over the floor I’d just swept out. I found an old primitive ladder that looked like someone had crafted it themselves from mesquite and I climbed up to place the cactus pieces on the roof of my room for the day.\n\nPhilipe asked if I wanted to join him for a little hike into the desert. I’d just come back but he wanted to explore an area I hadn’t been to yet. He said there was a nice grove of trees out there that also had soft green grass in the shady parts. Called it an “oasis”. There are a few areas like this in the otherwise bone dry desert, but they’re rare and a bit surreal when you find them. \n\nI told Philipe about the policia that I’d seen and the warning Don Tomas had given. He’d already seen them too but wasn’t too worried about it.\n\nAs we walked along the sandy trail, Philipe told me about a few details regarding the Huicholes peyote culture. I asked about the significance of how many sections counted atop a peyote cactus. When you look at the top of a peyote cactus, there are these little sections with tufts of that white fiber that has to be cut out too. I’ve heard that the white fiber has a small quantity of strychnine in it, and that’s part of what makes you sick, but I’m not certain that’s true or not. \n\nHe did say there was significance, but I wasn’t sure how much of what he said was hippy backpacker hear-say… basically made up or imagined while high, or actual Huichol culture. Perhaps there isn’t really a difference. \n\nI told him that for me the number 13 was significant as was the number 7. Philipe said that 13 sections meant that the plant is a “maestro” or teacher. I added that in magic mushroom cultures, they tend to assign different significance to the number of mushrooms and physical characteristics of the individual mushrooms too. The longer-stemmed derrumbe mushrooms in the mountains of Oaxaca, Mexico are also called “maestros” as well. The cap of these is generally more bell-shaped. \n\nThe conversation was going on like this until we reached the oasis Philipe had told me about. I could see a thick grove of mesquite trees ahead of us. It hadn’t rained in awhile, so everything was covered with a layer of dry fine desert dust and the grove blended into the landscape fairly well. I couldn’t see them at all until we were just a few meters from them. \n\nAs we approached a clearing in the branches, I could see bright green grass in the shade. Philipe stepped over toward a shrub to take a leak. I was amazed at how green the grass was in such a dry terrain and then looked down at the ground before me to see where the green grass began. \n\nDirectly in front of my feet was a peyote plant, of the size I’ve never seen before. Philipe walked up as I knelt down to brush away desert dust to get a better idea of just how large it was. It had to have been close to 11 inches in diameter. Usually they’re around 2-4 inches. Philipe walked over and was awestruck with this gargantuan peyote plant. \n\n“Holy shit! That thing is huge!”\n\n“I just noticed it at my feet. I’ve never seen one that big. Is it actually a peyote plant? Or, maybe just a cousin that looks like it?\n\n“No, that’s peyote for sure.”\n\n“Should we cut it?”\n\n“That’s all you brother. It spoke to you first.”\n\n“I don’t think I can eat all of that, are you sure you don’t want some?”\n\n“Gracias, but I only eat plants that reveal themselves to me. This one is clearly for you. Disfruta!(enjoy)”\n\nAfter brushing most of the dirt away and digging a small trench around the edges of the mammoth peyote plant so that I could get my knife underneath it to cut, I liberated the entire cactus head in one large piece. After you cut the top part off, you push the dirt back over it so that it’ll grow more. The root of the peyote plant goes down a good ways and they’ll continue to grow another head if you leave the root intact. \n\nPhilipe asked if I was going to leave an offering of gratitude for the plant. I’d seen this done before, but I’d never left anything before. \n\n“I’m not sure what to leave. Do you leave offerings?”\n\n“Yes, always. It’s the way.”\n\n“Hmmm… ok. Do Huicholes do that too?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“I wasn’t planning on cutting anything today and didn’t bring anything. Does it matter what you leave?”\n\n“No, just something.”\n\n“I’ve got a couple pesos in my pocket. Would that do?”\n\n“Sure, I’ve seen the Huicholes leave pesos before too.” \n\nIt was midday and the sun was intense. We walked over into the mesquite grove and sat in the shade on the soft green grass for a little while. We laid back and stared at the blue sky through the mesquite grove canopy. Compared to the hellish white-hot sun  that had just been making me feel a bit delirious… the grass was  soothingly cool to the skin and felt heavenly.\n\nI drifted off halfway to sleep for about a half hour. Not a full sleep, but that state in-between full sleep and kind of dozing. Completely aware of the cool grass, the sun flickering between the mesquite tree branches above, and the breeze. Yet, I wasn’t completely there. \n\nPhilipe got up first and said he was going to start walking back to Wadley. He wanted to know if I was ready to go back too. I told him that I’d packed a hammock, oranges, and plenty of water. Said I might try to eat some of that giant peyote plant and chill out in my hammock for the afternoon. \n\n“Are you sure you don’t want any? I’ve got a few oranges and plenty of water. I definitely can’t eat this whole plant myself.”\n\nPhilipe looked amused and laughed. \n\n“No, it’s all you. You found it first and you should see that it has to teach you. I’ll see you later back at the compound.”\n\nPhilipe headed out of the oasis and I found a perfect set of branches to hang my hammock from. I sat back down on the grass and started cutting up the monstrous plant. I halved it and thought maybe I could stomach that much. Peyote cactus has a very bitter taste, even after you’ve cleaned the fiber out of it. The oranges are used to help kill the taste so that you can get it down. After you get used to the taste, you can make due without the oranges, but I’ve rarely progressed that far. So much easier with oranges. \n\nI put a piece of the monster plant in my mouth along with a wedge of orange and started to chew. The taste of this one was stronger than I’d ever experienced and it was a challenge even with the orange. I don’t think I made it through half before I couldn’t eat any more. So, I wrapped up the remaining 2/3rds of the peyote, put it in a yellow plastic bag underneath my remaining oranges, and dropped it into my daypack. I laid back on the grass and resumed my zoning out to the magnificent blue sky above, waiting for the plant to digest.\n\nAbout a half hour later I got some stabbing cramps in my gut. This had never happened before. Very sharp pains that didn’t subside. They only got more intense and felt like I was digesting broken glass. Add to that, the peyote was starting to get to my head. \n\nThis wasn’t good at all. I felt deathly ill and was clutching my gut, writhing in the grass in pain, and my mind was taking off into the stratosphere on mescaline. Not a winning combination. I managed to get to my feet and slung myself into my hammock to ride it out.\n\n(To be continued... Next Post: Peyote Brujo Part 2)",
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      "body": "<center>![visitation.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmWjUmSV65jT7k2sY8b48mn9Cg4rgdH3MyDc4Dq3b2NDju/visitation.jpg)</center>\n\nRESIDUE OF TWILIGHT\n\nIt wasn't a particularly interesting day, to say the least. Grey and nondescript. The kind of day that you feel like wasting, but you know it's never a good idea to waste any day you're granted, so you just sit and wait for a spark or at least a glimpse of a lost muse.\n\nZeke's coffee tanks were already topped off, but still there was no motivation to do anything at all, other than to stare at all the other lost souls also trying to distract themselves long enough to make it through the day.\n\nPerhaps he could tolerate just one more dose of liquid anxiety? Decision made, he could. Only, the barista made an error and poured two more cups. Maybe that second cup would be the tipping point that would send him over the edge? Not likely, but there's no sense in wasting good jitter juice.\n\nThat last cup was starting to burn a bit. Still no revelation, no idea, and not even a twinkling of a muse. He was trying too hard. Maybe some aimless, meandering would reveal some curious nugget if he'd surrender into the invisible currents.\n\nOff he pedaled through the strip center parking lot, looking for something of interest while trying to get hit by one of the driving zombies shooting off one last meaningless text. \n\nNothing, just the steady drone of business as usual. It almost seemed like everyone moved in a slow motion choreography to some bland muzak noise. Even the back alleyways were lifeless. No sirens, no screaming, no laughter. \n\nOn the way back toward the mothership, Zeke noticed a street he'd never seen before. How could this street have remained hidden for all these years? It looked like a possible shortcut, but there were no structures, and the pavement gave way to a winding dirt track. \n\nThe light changed a little. It had been mostly unchanging throughout the day. A steady delivery of lifeless grey, but now it started to have a faint purplish color even though it was still overcast. He forgot about the time change so maybe it was the first residue of twilight. \n\nSome short cut. There's no way he shouldn't have already popped out of the woods into the dense residential area by now. Something felt wrong and he started to feel a little dizzy and started to walk his bike until equilibrium returned. \n\nUp ahead the trees were almost completely consumed by a combination of kudzu vine and Spanish moss. It was becoming more difficult to see, but Zeke noticed someone had hung twinkling white holiday lights in the highest boughs, and he could make out the metallic reflection from a beat up old airstream camper. \n\nFinally! Surely there'd be a driveway that would get him back into the residential area. An old man wearing a silk robe and ascot appeared to be sleeping in a hoverround chair with a rainbow umbrella fastened to it. The man's legs were exposed and were covered with sores. Perhaps phlebitis? The old man didn't even appear to be breathing, but a sizzling sound was coming from inside the camper. \n\nZeke feared the old man was dead. Could be he just fell asleep with something cooking inside, but it didn't sound like that kind of sizzling. More of a strange, otherworldly sound that pulsed from the whole camper. \n\nIf the old man was just asleep, best to try and gently try to wake him, before going for help. Just as he reached to tug at the old man's robe, he awoke with violent coughing. The old timer's eyes bulged wet as he tried to compose himself. \n\n\"Sir... are you ok? Do you need any help?\"\n\nThe old man said nothing as he fumbled through his pockets looking for something and started gasping for breath.\n\n\"Sir! Do you need something? Asthma? Nitro pills?\"\n\nThe old man pointed toward the camper. \n\n\"Hang in there, I'll see if can find something inside.\"\n\nJust as Zeke stepped up into the camper, he heard the hoverround's electric motor start to whir and the old man was rolling away and into the dark forest at top speed. \n\nInside the camper everything was pure white and sort of translucent. Even after his eyes adjusted, he couldn't make out much detail or where the walls were. Some bizarre optical illusion made it seem... infinite. \n\nHe spun around to see if the old man had come back and found the entrance had closed. There was nothing but this whiteness and electric sizzling sound that became so loud he had to cover his ears.\n\nThen it stopped immediately. Zeke heard a distant scream but wasn't sure if that was his own voice crying out. He felt disembodied, as if he were now floating in the light energy, but he could still make out the outlines of his hands. A soft pylon emerged from the whiteness with a small octagon-shaped button that glowed blue.\n\nIt felt like he was no longer in control as his hand reached out and pressed the button.\n\n<center>![danubelowres.JPG](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmQw3hnU6TVQTnv97WpkCuGfQp2xZtjp5onWkXqekVhePL/danubelowres.JPG)</center>\n\nINFINITE TRANSLUCENCE\n\nThe button felt soft and mushy to the touch, sort of like a marshmallow. Zeke mashed into the glowing blue enigma as far as he could. Nothing happened. He withdrew his finger from the soft machine and then mashed it again. Still nothing. \n\nHe held it mashed for a few seconds and noticed the sound started to dissolve into more of a watery soundscape and the intense light started to fade down. Zeke became apprehensive and withdrew his finger which now appeared to be coated with some viscous metallic goo that sparkled with a hidden electric charge. It tingled a little and seemed to increase his energy levels. \n\nZeke wondered about the old man and twisted around to see if the entrance to the camper had reappeared. Still engulfed in the same infinite translucence in all directions. He took a deep breath and mashed the button once again and held it steady until the light and sound started to fade again.\n\nThis time he noticed his hand and arm were also dissolving into the darkness, but the sound became more defined as definitely aquatic.\n\nWithin seconds all was dark and Zeke felt completely disembodied and gently floating. All fear had also dissolved away with everything else. It did feel like he was being pulled in some direction but he couldn't tell where.\n\nZeke hadn't realized that his eyes were now closed. He hadn't noticed it because up until this point, he didn't feel like there were any eyes to be opened, or a body for that matter. Slowly, he opened his eyes to a brilliant deep blue that filled his vision completely. \n\nHis eyes began to adjust to the new light and the most beautiful puffy white clouds wafted delicately into view. The clouds had a bit of a pink patina and were so surreal that they only barely looked real at all.\n\nThe sensation of gravity gradually and having a physical body returned. Zeke sat up and discovered he was in a small simple boat carved from cork, and floating in a river of some strange white liquid he couldn't immediately identify. The most lush exotic jungle pressed up against the banks of the white river, only all the plants were of a vivid flamingo pink color. He realized the pink patina in the clouds was actually reflecting from the jungle foliage.\n\nZeke held up his hands and arms that were now completely covered in that same metallic goo that still sizzled with a tingling electric charge. Not only his hands and arms, but his entire body was completely coated.\n\nThe cork boat continued to gently float along slowly in the white river and there was a sweetness in the air. It was as if the light itself was creating the sensation of sweet nectar. \n\nThe rushing aquatic sounds started to change and mix with a delightful tinkling of chimes. Zeke noticed ahead that the edge he floated toward, looked like the edge of an infinity pool with a vast white ocean beyond. \n\nAs the boat finally reached the infinite horizon, it slowed to the point of being perched still on the cusp of the infinite horizon. The most baffling part was that he sensed no fear at all. Until, he felt the boat slip. He gulped hard and clung tight to the cork boat sides into a full free fall . \n\nThe sensation of descent changed to no particular direction at all. It still felt like movement, though it didn't necessarily feel like it was specifically downward.\n\n<center>![bluelagoonlowres.JPG](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmd3LvxGwUeE23dzJegSgqXtTYENvfEeHZgfJQuwbuoNqy/bluelagoonlowres.JPG)</center>\n\nDISEMBODIED THOUGHT\n\nBack in the forest, the old man whirred his hover-round to face the camper. His head was cocked back as if he'd lost consciousness and his eyes slowly opened to dense Spanish moss hanging above. The camper was pulsing with light like one of those little night-lights that gradually dissolve into different colors and the soft light illuminated the forest, especially the jangly moss canopy.\n\nThe old man grinned as he lowered his gaze and carefully hovered his way back toward the pulsing camper. Once closer, you could tell the outer skin was completely covered in the same sizzling metallic goo that engulfed Zeke.\n\nOnce he'd reached the same spot he occupied when Zeke encountered him, the old man tilted his head back again and read the strange text that was projecting from some unknown source into the underside of his rainbow umbrella.\n\nThe characters looked like some kind of cross between Mayan hieroglyphs, Hopi pictographs, and Egyptian symbols. The old man appeared to recognize some patterns in the electronic crackling that emanated from underneath the umbrella. \n\nHe reached into his silk robe for a pair of old, cracked spectacles that had little pods at the ends that go over your ears. He inserted each side into his ears and the sounds translated to thoughts the man could receive not as sound, but more like shared, disembodied thought. And, the alien symbols projected on the umbrella morphed into readable text.\n\n\"How many are there inside?\" The old man responded in thought, \"Just one this time. A male. I didn't get a good look at him before I seized, but I think he was mid-aged.\" \"How long has he been activated inside the vessel?\" \"I suffered a malfunction and lost connection for a time, but I would guess no more than a count of 20 of their secondary time units.\" \"Splendid. Let him cook for another 10, then bring him back.\" \"Standard debrief? Or, will it be denial this time?\" \"Evaluate his condition upon reentry. If he appears stable enough, let's see how he tolerates denial.\" \n\nZeke's free fall over the infinite milky ledge leveled back out into a floating forward motion through what felt like a thick atmosphere that was breathable. Not quite the same as air, but not as dense as water. It took him a little more work to draw in a breath, but it didn't cause him any distress or panic. \n\nBelow the cork boat he could see structures raised from the surface, but none had any obvious entry points. No windows, gates or doors. And they looked like they were solid enough, but still sort of soft looking. The structures were all interconnected to each other via large diameter, shining cables made of the sizzling metallic goo material. The entire landscape looked like a giant plasma circuit board of sorts.  \n\nThe cork vessel glided a bit lower toward the surface and Zeke could make out shapes of beings, but none of their features were defined much. He could just tell something was there and all of them knew of his presence. His mind became confused for a few moments. It was as if it contained several more than his own thoughts and he couldn't focus on just one stream, nor process the multitude. \n\nConfusion and a little fear gave way to a feeling of familiarity. He'd been here before.\n\n<center>![maroonedlowres.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmcKkNnJKe78NXENqMBCVidUpenb12AvYa8TLJZD7HAvwu/maroonedlowres.jpg)</center>\n\nSTRATOPLASMIC INTERFERENCE\n\nThe alien, yet vaguely familiar scene before Zeke began to flutter a little bit, like some faraway lightning flickering everywhere at once. It almost felt like his eyes were beginning to short out.\n\nHe looked down at his extremities and the cork vessel. The glittery goo that coated everything seemed to be also consuming all of the lines that serve to define one object from another. It was a slow progression at first and then sped up drastically. \n\nZeke's perception of time speed distorted and warped until he wasn't sure if it was even progressing anymore. The omnisciently consuming glittery goo became all there was. Whatever Zeke now was, it was clear he still was aware of consciousness. But, how long would it last? He wasn't even sure if this is how it'd always been, and those memories of his life were simply some fanciful dream born of cosmic mind. How long would this state last? Or, is this actually the only state there's ever been or will ever be?\n\nThe old man in the hover-round uttered words that sounded profane, but were not of this world. He was cursing the tangled light circuits inside an exposed recess of the airstream's skin. \"Damn it! Why isn't this working? He should have returned by now. There must be some stratoplasmic interference somewhere. Oh wait! What's this doing in there?\" The old man had forgotten he'd jammed his stogie into the board earlier when pretended to be asleep. He dug into the sloppy photon circuits with titanium surgical chopsticks to fish out  the still burning, red-stained stogie. \"What a dope! Come back to papa little guy.\"\n\nAs the old man yanked the strange red stogie butt from the circuit apparatus and jammed it back into his mostly broken teeth, the entire forest began to flicker the same as it had for Zeke. It was a slow pulse at first, and then strobed in rapid succession until everything momentarily morphed into the sizzling goo, and then snapped back to full materialization. Only now, Zeke was standing bewildered before the old man.\n\nZeke was shocked by the now unfamiliar sensation of gravity and struggled to maintain his balance. He looked around the camp site, and focussed on the airstream's metal door. His memory was starting to come back, but he still felt a little unbalanced and woozy. \n\nThe old man took the now lit wet stogie from his teeth and thrust it toward Zeke. \n\n\"Hey buddy... You alright? Hellooo... You with me pal? Snap out it... Here, smoke some of this.\"\n\n© 2018 Skip Hunt",
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      "body": "Thank you :)",
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      "body": "![thesuncard.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmbnnbzCn5J73M5zgiRNhDH28p3oEBe7K3TiwaoitwhHXZ/thesuncard.jpg)\n\nI just remembered the name of an eccentric, bohemian woman I met in Palenque, Mexico many years ago. Her name was Hilda and she was the person who told me about the mystical place called Huautla de Jimenez in the mountains of Mexico. I referenced this place in another account called “The Reluctant Curandero”. She also went by the name “Coco” when she was with the Mezatecas. \n\nHilda ran a little cafe in the jungle. Only vegetarian, bottled soft drinks, and cerveza. The cafe was open-air in the jungle. All the tables and chairs were made of large tree slices, and there were some hammocks around. You really didn’t feel like you were in a cafe at all, but more like you were relaxing in the thick jungle, only with amenities. There was a basic kitchen behind a simple bar, and a small cottage attached. \n\nHilda made the most amazing vegetarian dishes. I wasn’t even vegetarian, but I recognized the culinary artistry to make healthy food taste like pretty much anything you wanted it to taste like. Hilda was a wizard with many things, and the culinary arts was definitely one of them. \n\nI was staying down the road at Maya Belle in a palapa hut and sleeping in a hammock. On a previous trip, Hilda had told me about a near total eclipse that was to occur right there at the Palenque ruins on July 11th, 1991. She said I ought to try and be there for it, and I managed to make it all the way back a week before the eclipse would occur.\n\nThe only problem was that I’d been robbed on the bus. Nothing violent, just wasn’t paying attention and left my bag untended while I got off the bus to use the restroom. Or something like that. I didn’t lose everything, but there was only enough money for a bus back to Texas. I’d have to miss the eclipse I’d come so far to witness at one of the most mystical Mayan ruin sites I’d been to at that point in time. \n\nThere was some hidden money in my backpack, and a few travelers checks left. I calculated that if I stayed in the simple open-air palapa for about a dollar a night back then, and took the least expensive buses all the way back up to Texas, I could just barely make it a week if I didn’t eat anything. Once I got back over the border, I could get more money for the last portion of the trek back home to Austin. \n\nA week without food was going to be a stretch though. I didn’t even have enough extra to get some cheap food items from the local produce market. So close to being able to stick it out, but about $20 short of being able to pull this off. \n\nI’d already paid for the first night in the palapa and planned on catching the first bus out in the morning. Sadly moped back to Hilda’s cafe to lay in a hammock and enjoy my last evening in the jungle. The stars were incredible and I could hear howler monkeys making this omnipresent, low pitch that sounds like the entire jungle is snoring. The insect buzz comes alive with this almost electronic drone that overtakes the senses. The jungle at night is an extraordinary thing to experience. You sort of just melt into the surreal soundscape, while fireflies, and random eyes glowing in the dark forest underneath a thick blanket of stars. And I was going to have to leave early after only one night.\n\nI dug one of my last cigarettes out and flipped open my Zippo lighter. The flame seemed exaggerated in that perfect darkness. It caught the fancy of Hilda’s partner Mario. He came over to the hammock I was floating in and asked to check out my Zippo lighter. He flipped it open several times, and then made out like he was a Clint Eastwood movie star cowboy flipping open the  lighter off his jeans:\n\n“Que bueno… I like this Zippo. How much does one like this cost in Estados Unidos?”\n\n“Thanks, not sure about the cost… it was a gift. They sell knock off copies that aren’t very expensive, but this is a real one. They’re made a little better and have a nicer feel when you flip them open.”\n\n“Would you sell me this one and you could get another one when you get back to the United States?”\n\n“Hmmm… I kind of need it, and I have to leave tomorrow.”\n\n“You’re not staying for the eclipse?!”\n\n“No, that what I came here for… but I got robbed and don’t have enough money to last the week. I’ve got just enough for the bus home, and the palapa I’m renting, but not enough to eat. So, I have to go home early.”\n\n“What if you trade me this Zippo and you can eat and drink as much as you want here at the cafe for a week? Maybe not too many cervezas, but a couple a day would be okay.”\n\n“Really?!”\n\n“Oh wait, this takes special fuel yes?”\n\n“I’ve got a container of lighter fluid that’s nearly full I could include.”\n\n“But when I finish that one, I won’t be able to find something like that here in Palenque.”\n\n“I’m sure you can, it’s not really that special. Besides, I read that these were actually originally made to burn any kind of fuel for soldiers in the field. I think they’ll burn kerosine or even gasoline… but I’ve never tried and wouldn’t recommend it.”\n\nMario flipped the Zippo open to light and tried to get fancy with his opening and closing moves. He lit a joint with it, took a huge drag, then passed it to me. As he let out the smoke he said:\n\n“Si, we have a deal compadre. I keep the Zippo, and you can eat and drink for free for a week so you can stay for the eclipse.”\n\n“Yes! Thank you! I’ll bring the fuel back mañana and I think I have some spare flints too.”\n\n“You can have my cheap plastic lighter to use and I’ll include some cigarettes from the bar in the deal too.”\n\n“Gracias!”\n\nThere were some other backpackers, a hippy couple from Montana, a girl from Australia, a cigar puffing grad student from Indiana, and I couple of brothers from Austria. We’d all sort of been hanging out for the day since we were all palapa neighbors and kept running into each other at either Hilda’s cafe, previous destinations before Palenque, or around Maya Belle. They were all sitting around Hilda’s cafe having some cervezas when they overheard that I was going to able to stay for the clips. They all raised their beers and cheered at my great fortune as Mario brought me the first free beer of our trade. \n\nI’m not sure why this little group so quickly formed a bond as if we’d known each other for years. It might’ve had to do with none of us were of the dreadlocked bongo-playing variety of backpackers. None of us spoke Spanish with much fluidity. We all just clicked I guess. \n\nAt night we’d either chill out at Hilda’s cafe, or the cafe at Maya Belle… and then late at night we’d convene at whichever palapa was the most convenient or had a nice fire going. We’d talk about what each of us had experienced that day, and the Anthropologist grad student would fill us in on what was known of the Maya from their ancient book called The Popol Vuh. \n\nOne day I was walking between Hilda’s cafe and Maya Belle, when a taxi from the town of Palenque pulled up next to me. A man wearing a blue turban got out and was clutching a very large book covered in worn leather. It looked very old, but I couldn’t make out the inscription language on the cover. The fellow seemed in a hurry, and maybe a little rude in asking directions. He wanted to know if I’d seen a woman from Nebraska, and if the ruins were nearby. I told him that I’d overheard earlier in the day people talking about this and wondered who she was:\n\n“She’s believed to be the reincarnation of Guadalupe of the Americas. Do you know where she is?”\n\n“No, I think someone said she was going to spend the night at then ruins for some reason… that she had some kind of special permission or something.”\n\n“Yes, she’s going to spend the next couple of nights in the ruin called the observatory.”\n\n“Why is that?… if you don’t mind my asking.”\n\n“Many years ago there was a crystal skull found a this ruin site. It was taken away and many bad things have happened since then. \n\n“Does that have anything to do with the coming eclipse?”\n\nHe got visibly a little agitated at my incessant questions at this point.\n\n“Yes. It has everything to do with the eclipse. She’s preparing for the ceremony and will return the crystal skull from where it was taken.”\n\n“Hmmmm… the reincarnation of Guadalupe is a woman from Nebraska?”\n\n“I have to go… which way to the ruins… I must reach her before nightfall.”\n\n“Just keep going straight, it’s just another couple of kilometers down this road, around some curves at the end.”\n\nThe turbaned man jumped back into the taxi without saying anything else to me, and then ordered the taxi driver to proceed toward the ruins.\n\nThat night at Hilda’s cafe I asked around and confirmed that there was indeed a woman from Nebraska there, and that she was believed to be the reincarnation of Guadalupe. So odd, I thought. Not that it mattered, but I asked what she looked like. Wondered if she was even hispanic. They said she wasn’t hispanic and looked pretty much like any average middle-age housewife from Nebraska. \n\nJoined up with the group I’d been hanging out with. They were already seated around one of the rough tree-trunk tables and drinking cervezas. The anthropology dude fancied himself some kind of Indiana Jones character… with a jungle pith helmet, mostly khaki garb, and puffing on a cigar. I’m not sure that he realized that he looked a bit pretentious and well… silly. Yet, I liked out he kind of stood out from everything else in this scene. \n\nCaught the eye of a woman with dark, olive skin. Her eyes were smoky and a bit sunken into shadow, but sort of attractive… or maybe spellbinding is a better description. She was dressed all in white flowing fabric that you could almost see through like muslin cloth, and her hair was wrapped in the same white cloth in sort of a loose turban fashion.\n\nNoticed she was staring at me and smiling. At first I thought maybe she was just observing our little group… or maybe she was amused with the Indiana Jones dude’s get up, but her eyes were definitely locked with mine. I pointed to myself to confirm. She nodded in affirmation. \n\nThe others didn’t notice and were all half intoxicated and in the middle of a loud conversation. I walked over to the woman’s table and sat down. Asked what she wanted, but she said nothing. Just kept staring at me and smiling… somewhat seductively. I wasn’t sure. She didn’t answer any of my attempts in English or Spanish to make conversation. Staring and smiling. \n\nI was about to head back to the table when she slid her closed hand across the table toward me. She slowly turned her and over and opened it. In her palm were three small mushrooms. She motioned for me to eat them. \n\nAlthough I’m no stranger to the magic of mushrooms, normally I would’ve asked a few questions, got a better feel for the intent of the person giving them to me, and made sure of what I was about to eat was reasonably safe… or, at least not poisonous. This time I didn’t. I just stared back at her, picked up the mushrooms and ate them. The turbaned woman in white nodded affirmatively, then stood up and sort of floated away into the night. At least that’s what it looked like with the flowing muslin like cloth and the way she moved so effortlessly. \n\nI returned back to the table and tried to catch up on the group’s conversation. \n\n![palenquestonepath.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmPLLcVhUJLsDc7BeH6udWRYrhjrFmCWYyJEX2VkvMEJ8j/palenquestonepath.jpg)!\n\nDidn’t even seem like the group had noticed me gone, or the strange woman in flowing muslin white. The anthropologist was pontificating about something and the Australian girl was making fun of him a bit. We all had some great laughs over more cervezas. \n\nMaybe less than an hour later, I started feeling a little bit queasy. I’d completely forgotten about the mushrooms the woman in white gave me. I knew what the effect of magic mushrooms should’ve been, but this wasn’t it. Well, it was to some degree. My head spun and I definitely felt drugged, but not in a pleasant way or in a way I’d known before. \n\nHadn’t mentioned to the others anything about the woman in white yet and didn’t feel like I could communicate. Thought I was going to pass out or get throw up. Walked out into the night toward the edge of the jungle for some privacy. My head spun even more as I scrambled into he jungle a bit further from the light of the cafe. Went in a further than I really needed to because I didn’t want anyone to hear me vomiting. \n\nIn my rushing scramble, I slipped on a moss covered rock and fell down pretty hard. The fall was broken by my knee making contact with the sharp edge of another rock and cutting pain shot up my leg. My knee felt wet from mud and kind of sticky warm. \n\nAfter I’d finished emptying my stomach in the jungle, I managed to stumble my way back toward the light of the cafe on my injured knee. The Australian girl gasped when she caught sight of me:\n\n“Oh man! What happened to you?! My god are you ok?!”\n\nThe others came rushing toward me. I did have a good deal of jungle mud all over me, but my knee was split wide open with blood gushing out. Someone handed me a cloth to put over my knee and helped me to a chair. \n\nHilda came over and took the cloth off to examine the extent of the damage and clean off some of the mud. \n\n“What happened?”\n\n“I fell out in the jungle. There was a woman here earlier in white..”\n\n“You didn’t talk to her did you?”\n\n“I wouldn’t saw we talked, but she motioned for me to come to her table.”\n\n“Oh no… you should’ve have gone over.\n\n“I didn’t know. She gave me some mushrooms.”\n\n“And you ate them?”\n\n“I wasn’t thinking…”\n\n“Hold this on your knee, I’ll be back in a moment.\n\nHilda took a flashlight and went toward the back of the cafe to cut some plants. She came back and started scoring some of the leaves and fronds with a knife in a criss-cross pattern until they oozed. Then, she started applying them to my knee.\n\n“This is a very bad woman. Wicked. If you see her again, you should turn the other way.”\n\n“What did she give me?”\n\n“Quiet sabe… who knows. Poison…”\n\nHilda wrapped my knee with more strips of palm fronds and tied it very tight. \n\n“Leave that until tomorrow. You’ll be fine.”\n\n“Are you sure? I mean, looks like it’s pretty deep. Maybe I should go to Palenque in the morning and find a doctor to get some stitches?”\n\n“You don’t need stitches. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”\n\nI wasn’t sure what to do. From my past experience, this definitely looked like a bad enough cut that it could use at least a dozen or so stitches. At the same time, I completely trusted Hilda’s medicine. \n\nWe all walked together back down the road to Maya Belle. The cafe there was already closed so we all piled into nearby hammocks to enjoy the night sky and listen to the jungle sleep.\n\nEarly the next morning, the brothers from Austria joined me for some mushroom hunting in the cow pastures. These are psychedelic mushrooms like I’ve mentioned before, only these grow in the cow manure. Same species that grows in the United States, only the effect can be very different. I’m told it’s because the cows there eat much different plants than the cattle in the U.S. \n\nWe left early because if you don’t, the caballeros (Mexican cowboys) will have picked them all to sell to the backpackers. We were out there early enough, stomping through all the mud, picking out stickers, scraped by thorns, sweating from the intense humidity, etc.\n\nAfter we all had a nice bag full for us and our compadres back at Maya Belle, we headed back toward the main road. Only to be met by caballeros who demanded we hand over our bounty or pay them. Dang! All that work and we had to pay anyway. Next time we’ll just sleep in and wait for the caballeros to bring them to our hammocks instead of dealing with all the mud, manure, thorns and stickers. \n\nLater that afternoon I wandered back down to Hilda’s place for some food and drink. Hilda greeted me and asked how my knee was doing. I told her it seemed fine and I’d almost completely forgotten about it. The tied frond wrapping was pretty frayed but still holding together. Hilda said I could go ahead and take that off now. \n\nI pulled out my pocket knife and cut the frond and dressing off. What I saw was absolutely incredible. There wasn’t even a scratch. It was as if the wound hadn’t even happened at all. I looked up at Hilda in amazement. Literally couldn’t believe my eyes and started searching all around my knee for evidence. All perfect, no markings at all. \n\n“How could that be?”\n\n“Is Maya medicine. She heals if you let her.”\n\n“But, seriously… this was a pretty serious cut last night wasn’t it? Everyone saw. It wasn’t just me!”\n\n“Is Maya.”\n\nHilda just smiled and returned to cleaning the bar.\n\n“Hilda… I meant to ask you… where are you from exactly?”\n\n“I am from everywhere.”\n\n“I mean, are you from Mexico? Or Europe? Another country in South America? I can’t quite place your features.”\n\n“I am from todo mundo, I’m from the whole world.”\n\nShe grinned and then disappeared into the kitchen area.\n\nThe next couple of days leading up to the day of the eclipse were mostly hanging in hammocks, reading, hiking in the jungle, and telling each other stories of Mayan lore and myths. \n\nOne evening I joined the anthropologist in Indiana Jones attire, for a hike in the jungle behind Maya Belle. There are several footpaths in the jungle that I’m told lead to some Lacandon indian villages. The Lacandon are considered to be decendants of  the Mayans. Many of the paths eventually take you to the ruin sites. \n\nI’d told Indiana Jones that I knew of one trail that takes you to a place called “The Queen’s Bath”. No clue why they call it that, but it’s a nice set of waterfalls in the jungle that form a pool beneath you can swim in. Perfect way to cool off under the canopy of the jungle. \n\nNot far into the jungle, Indiana started hacking away at vines Indiana Jones style with a cheap machete he’d bought in down. The trail was pretty clear so I don’t know why he felt the need to whack away at vines, but he wasn’t wasn’t harming anything. \n\nUntil, one of the whacks disturbed a huge snake the was wrapped up in the thick vines above. Indiana dropped like a rock and turned white as a ghost. The size of the serpent started me a bit too, but there was enough distance that I wasn’t too worried. Indiana started fumbling around in his pockets to retrieve a cigar and a lighter. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, so I took the lighter and held it while he puffed. \n\n“Gracias”\n\nHe puffed away creating a thick mass of smoke that encircled us.\n\n“De nada. You’re welcome. Do cigars relax you in stressful situations?”\n\n“Yeah, a little bit. But that’s not why I’m smoking. The cigar smoke should keep snakes, jaguars, and pretty much any animals away from us.”\n\n“Smoke?”\n\n“Yes, they’re terrified of fire and will keep their distance if they smell smoke.”\n\nI’d never heard that before, but it made sense. Besides, even though I’m not wild about the smell of cigar smoke, whatever Indiana was smoking had a decent aroma. And, it made our hike to the Queen’s bath for a swim, a little more “Indiana Jones” like.  \n\n![TheSunCard1.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmUAjzDTGJRSejVAjQDTSy43ztvD4fz474LRdFB3tKSdai/TheSunCard1.jpg)\n\nFinally, the morning of the eclipse had come. Every day leading up, there were more and more people arriving. I didn’t know where the others had gone, so I walked down to Hilda’s cafe for a coffee and to relax before going to the ruins for the event. \n\nHilda was busy cleaning up around the cafe. I got into one of the hammocks to read for a bit, when Hilda came over and told me that I would be coming back to the cafe to do her a favor. \n\n“Sure, no problem. But, after I leave here, I’m going to stop back by Maya Bell to grab my bag and head to the ruins for the eclipse. I won’t be coming back this way.”\n\n“Yes, you will.”\n\n“Well, I didn’t really plan on walking all the way back the opposite way. Can’t you just give me the instructions for the favor now before I leave?”\n\n“It’s not time. You will return before the eclipse.”\n\n“Ok, well… alright. I guess I’ll come back.”\n\nHilda smiled, nodded, then returned to her cleaning.\n\nI didn’t really plan on walking back. It wasn’t all that far, but in the tropical heat it was a bit of a hike. And, I’d have to walk the distance twice since the ruins were the opposite direction away from my palapa at Maya Bell. \n\nThere were a few others hanging out in the cafe by that point. Someone was playing a bongo drum, and another person was banging on one of tables like a drum. It was getting a little hard to concentrate on my reading, so I waved to Hilda and walked back to Maya Belle to chill out in my own hammock.\n\nFell asleep reading back at Maya Belle. When I woke up I briefly panicked because I thought that after everything, I’d ended up sleeping through the eclipse! Happily, I still had a good hour and a half to go. Tried to tell myself it’d be cutting it too close to try and hike back to Hilda’s before the eclipse, and that she’d understand that I’d fallen asleep. But, I knew that was a lie. I easily had enough time to go back to the cafe to find out what favor she needed me to do, and still make it to the ruins for the eclipse. \n\nAfter grabbing my daypack, and some water I headed back to Hilda’s cafe. When I arrived it was completely empty. No one around at all, but I could hear some Indian Hindu music playing over the speakers. Figured someone must be there so I sat down at one of the tables and called Hilda’s name. \n\nFrom the garden behind the cafe, Hilda came toward me smiling and dancing seductively to the Hindu music. She had changed clothes and was wearing a flowing saffron-colored sari. Her hair was bound up like a turban in a matching lace scarf that had small amber charms dangling from it around her face. And, she had a small colorful parrot perched on her shoulder.\n\nI watched her move and twirl about. She almost looked as if she was in some sort of a trance, and that trance was starting to feel like it was having an effect on me as well. \n\nHilda motioned for me to stand up and follower her as she danced out of the cafe and into the adjoining cottage. I’d never been in the cottage, but was surprised how sparse the decor was. In the main room there was almost nothing but a beautiful white hammock that was hung from one corner of the room all the way to the opposite corner. \n\nShe motioned for me to continue following her into the bedroom. This made me a bit uncomfortable… as I obeyed and followed her into the bedroom. I wasn’t sure what was about to transpire. Hilda motioned for me to sit back on the bed as she continued to dance and twirl. \n\nWhile dancing, she scooped up a deck of large tarot cards on a white dresser. Everything in her place was white. She started shuffling the tarot cards as she danced and then suddenly flung them all across the bed. She instructed me to select a card. I told Hilda that I didn’t want her to read my cards… that I knew of someone who was told they would get cancer from a fortune teller. This person did in fact get cancer and I never knew for sure if it was because the fortune teller actually foresaw it, or if it was the suggestion itself. \n\nHilda told me not to worry, that she was not going to read my tarot cards. She instructed me to pick one card and look at it, but don’t show it to her. Then, mix the card back into the rest of the cards, and then shuffle the deck a few times. After I shuffled the deck about 3 times, I handed it to Hilda. \n\nAfter she also shuffled the deck 3 or 4 more times, she quickly flung the deck back onto the bed and the cards all spread out. Instantly, she reached down and plucked a card from all the cards and turned it around toward me. \n\n“Is this your card?”\n\n“Yes!”\n\n“This is the seven card… the Sun Card, on the day of the eclipse.”\n\nI examined the card and it had a figure holding up the sun I believe. Hilda took the card from me and rolled it up in a long piece of muslin cloth. She put the wrapped card in a cotton bag, along with some oranges, and some calla lilies. I think there were some other small items she put into the bag as well, and handed it to me.\n\n“Take this to the ruins and give it to the woman from Nebraska who is the reincarnation of Guadalupe of the Americas.”\n\n“But, I don’t know where she is, or even what she looks like.”\n\n“You’ll know who she is and where she is when you get there.”\n\n“Ok. Is that it? I should get going now or I’m going to miss it!”\n\n“Yes, please hurry and don’t forget to give this to her.”\n\nThe time was getting a bit short, but I still had enough time. I just couldn’t dawdle much and had to walk quickly. \n\nThe closer I got to the main entrance to the Palenque ruins, the more people there were. It looked as if they’d all arrived today and what a bizarre bunch most of them were! Like some strange multi-cultural, international convention of astro-space aliens from the planet of dreadlocks and tie-dye. So many in fact, that I didn’t think there was any way possible that’d I’d be able to find a person who I didn’t know their name or what they looked like. All I knew was that it was a she and that she was from Nebraska. \n\nJust after I passed the largest Temple of Inscriptions pyramid on my right with the observation tower complex on my left, I had  sort of a “knowing” or intuition that the woman I was looking for was on the top floor of the stone ruins tower. \n\nAt the entrance of the tower there were two men in suits. I couldn’t make out where they were from, but they they spoke English with a foreign accent. I nodded to them as I passed into the entrance, when they held out their arms to block me.\n\n“Excuse us Sir, but no one is allowed to pass into the tower right now.”\n\n“Why not? I’ve been here a week and have been up there several times. Why can’t I go up today?”\n\n“Very sorry, but you can go anywhere else you like on the grounds, just not up to the top of the tower.”\n\n“Oh, ok. It’s not that I have a burning desire to go up there, but there’s this local cafe owner named Hilda who gave me this bag of stuff and told me to take it to the woman from Nebraska who’s supposed to be the reincarnation of Guadalupe.”\n\nThe two men looked at each surprised.\n\n“Ok then. You may enter.”\n\nWhoa, that was weird. How did they know? I didn’t ask anymore questions and started up the narrow stone stairway to the top level of the tower. \n\nAt the top level, the walls are open on all four sides with the roof supported by 4 stone columns. There were 7 people sitting in a circle chanting with a light-haired woman presiding. She looked to be in her early 40’s and looked… well… like she might be from Nebraska. All of their eyes were closed. I didn’t recognize the others except for the man with the turban I’d given directions to a few days prior. The woman from Nebraska opened her eyes, looked at me and smiled as she nodded. It felt a little bit awkward, like I was interrupting something. So, I took the bag Hilda had given me and set it down in front of the woman from Nebraska. She closed her eyes again and joined back in with the chanting. The language they were chanting in wasn’t familiar to me.\n\nFor a short while I stood in the corner and watched, then quietly backed out, down the stairway, and continued out to the grounds to wander around the ruins site. It seemed that most of the people at site were of the strange variety I mentioned before. Mostly of the bohemian sort and they were all performing various rituals that involved dancing, singing, chanting, and there was a bit of primal wailing as well. \n\nI didn’t have any eye protection, so instead of trying to view the eclipse directly I focussed my attention on all of the bizarre spiritual circus taking place all around me. \n\nAt Palenque, the eclipse wasn’t total, but it darkened to about twilight. The entire surrounding jungle erupted into a cacophony of buzzing night sounds with howler monkey drones. Most of the singing, drumming, and wailing raised a couple octaves in pitch as it blended into the jungly symphony. Time felt like it stopped, or at least the perception of time did. \n\nAfter what must have only been a few minutes, the light brightened as the sun shone full again. There were gasps and some singing, but the tone was more subdued. The jungle sounds went back to a normal daytime nature, and there was a palpable spirit of peace in the air. \n\nI wondered around the ruins for awhile, and down the trail toward the Queen’s bath to cool off. Wasn’t quite sure how to feel about what had just transpired, but I knew I wanted to hang onto the feeling as long as possible. \n\nSome time later, I meandered down the jungle trail and back toward Hilda’s cafe. When I arrived, it appeared empty. I heard some voices behind the cafe. It was the hippy couple from Montana… of our little group. They acted like they were somehow still enchanted. I felt that way too. A lingering feeling. They asked me where I was for the eclipse.\n\n“I went to the ruins. Lots of people there. Very odd for the most part, but cool. You?”\n\n“We had planned to go to the ruins too, but instead we wandered out into a cornfield. Not sure why, but it was also very cool.”\n\n“Cool in the cornfield?”\n\n“Yeah, it was. The corn stalk leaves created little pinholes that were projecting the shapes of hundreds of eclipse shadows on the ground. When the breeze would blow the stalks, they’d all dance about. And, the jungle sounds!”\n\n“I know! Wasn’t that incredible? It was pretty intense being at the edge of the jungle at the ruins with all of the singing and wailing going on.”\n\n“Oh, I bet…”\n\n“Hey, have either of you seen Hilda around?”\n\n“No, why?”\n\n“Before the eclipse I came by to do a favor for her. She was dressed up in a saffron outfit with a parrot on her shoulder. She was dancing and around and summoned me to her bedroom…”\n\n“Was she playing with some tarot cards by chance?”\n\n“Yes!”\n\n“And did you pick the seven card… the Sun card?”\n\n“Yes! How’d you know?!”\n\n“She did that exact same thing to each one of us over the course of the morning. All seven of us! And we all picked that same card. You must’ve been the last one to go.”\n\n“She wrapped it in muslin and put it in a bag with some other items… oranges, calla lilies, and some other charms I think. Ended up taking them to that woman from Nebraska. Know idea how I knew where she’d be.”\n\n“She was at the ruins too?”\n\n“Yeah, doing some ceremony in the observation tower. Mostly chanting. Hey, there were seven in her chanting circle too. Including that dude with the turban I mentioned before.”\n\n“What a wild day. Such a blessing. I think I hear some people in the cafe now.”\n\nWe all walked back inside Hilda’s cafe where there were several people gathering. Hilda smiled and was putting out some food and drinks. I saw the woman from Nebraska talking with some others from the circle. Said my goodbyes to the group after we compared stories of the seven card… the Sun Card, on the day of the eclipse. I shook everyone’s hand including the woman from Nebraska, and a kiss for Hilda.\n\nIt was difficult to leave just then, still processing the events of the week, and this incredible day… but, I’d made it all the way up to the day of the eclipse with barely a peso to spare. I’d already purchased my bus ticket heading toward Mexico City, and on toward the Texas border. It’s a long trip and I couldn’t drag my feet anymore. I’d already packed my backpack and only needed to catch a collectivo taxi to the bus station in the town of Palenque.\n\nOn my way out of Hilda’s cafe, I saw the man with the turban with his giant, ancient holy book opened. He was reading a passage to himself, but in a language I didn’t recognize. Then, he spoke to me in English.\n\n“You are leaving us now?”\n\n“Yes, I’ve got to get back home. I’ve been gone awhile.”\n\n“Buenas Suerte. Good luck on your journey. And thank you so much for all that you’ve done. I am from the Mexican town of San Cristobal de las Casas in the mountains. It’s beautiful there.”\n\n“Yes, I’ve been there before. It is very beautiful. But I was robbed there a couple of years ago.”\n\n“Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that. Please return to our city. I promise the next time you will be welcomed with open arms. Again, I’m very grateful for all you did to help us.”\n\n“You’re certainly welcome, but I don’t really feel like I did much of anything at all. All I did was give you some directions when you arrived, and dropped off a bag with a tarot card, some fruit, flowers, and trinkets during the eclipse. I don’t even know what any of that meant.”\n\n“It’s not important that you understand. Just know that your blessed involvement played an important role in our ceremonies and intentions… especially during the eclipse. Muchas Gracias.”\n\nThe bus trip back North was a long, uncomfortable, marathon of a journey. Did the whole 33 hours or so, in 3 hops. Overnight 12 hours to Mexico City, then another 16 hours overnight to the border, and another 5 hours from the border back up to Austin, Texas. Barely even noticed the trip at all. I was still in that state of wonder I think. Replaying the events and what they’d meant. \n\nStill baffled as to why the woman in white muslin would try to poison a complete stranger. Or, how a few carefully selected jungle plants could heal a long, deep gash in my knee overnight without even evidence of a scratch remaining. Or, what any of that ceremony related to the seven Sun tarot card on the day of the eclipse meant. \n\nI think what meant the most to me though, out of all the entire trip, was the realization that sometimes… likely most of the time… it has little to do with you. Your purpose isn’t always related or even meaningful to your own personal story, but instead you may be playing a crucial role in a much larger narrative that you may never completely comprehend.\n\n© 2018 Skip Hunt",
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      "body": "![campfire9.jpeg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmSqXgmvH1vw97S2yjQ4hrFA8GNV5Tttzg6jfcDLcEF8hU/campfire9.jpeg)\n\nThe Reluctant Curandero - Part 3 (Conclusion)\n(Continued from Previous Post: The Reluctant Curandero - Part 2)  \n\nWithin a few seconds of rising up within the copal smoke I passed a thin plane, almost like a very short and narrow floor of a building. Somehow I instinctively knew to enter this plane while thinking of the location that Manny Gammage was hospitalized, and in an instant I was transported to the hospital room. Though, I wasn’t in my own body… I was sort of sharing his body, or kind of moving within it. Hard to explain, but I was able to have a look around for anything that seemed like it shouldn’t be there. \n\nFirst, I found a dark red, and nearly blackened cancer tumor with tendrils embedded in the tissues surrounding it. I pulled at the tumor and through it away from me, then did my best to dig the rest of the embedded tendrils out. Another look around and there was yet another one that I did my best to get rid of as well. Then I sort of used my own energy to kind of give the whole body a quick blast in order to try and kill cells that remained. \n\nEventually, I didn’t feel like there was anything else I could do and started backing away the way I arrived. Back into the thin plane where I moved at the speed of thought. Back into the column of copal incense smoke, as I descended back down toward the campfire and returned to my own body. \n\nOpened my eyes and thought, “Whoa!, that was a really vivid imagining I just had. And I haven’t even had any of the Derrumbes yet. Heh, I wonder if I really need any organic help to get me to that level of imagination?”\n\nDidn’t think about the experience for all that long. Brushed it off as a goofy wild imagining for the most part, but the vivid quality of it stuck with me.\n\nThe next night I partook in the activity I’d come there for and continued on my journey. I don’t remember where I went after that location, but most of the time I’d carry on toward Oaxaca City, then down the mountains to the Oaxaca coastline around Puerto Angel, and then either zig-zag my way east toward Chiapas, or continue South into Guatemala. Vaguely remember that trip taking me to the turquoise waters of the Caribbean coast and exploring the Yucatan Peninsula region. At that time the Yucatan wasn’t as developed and a backpacker could get a simple hut with a sand floor, right on the beach for as little as $1 a night. That was indeed a magical time.\n\nThat trip lasted just short of two months or so as I recall... before I was on the long bus crawl back North toward the Texas/Mexico border and back to Austin. I’ve always been fortunate enough to travel just long enough that I’m looking forward to getting home, and this time was no different. The exhilaration from the trip usually lasted about a week before fading back into the regular every day routine. \n\nIt was a good month or so after I’d returned that there was a need to call up Joella at Texas Hatters about some business related detail. I’d been doing some photography for them as well as a catalogue and some print ads. \n\nThe last conversation I’d had with Joella came rushing back and I began to dread the sadness I’d hear in her voice as she gave me the news. Might’ve dragged my feet until the last minute before making that call and was hoping someone other than Joella would pick up: \n\n“Texas Hatters.. Joella speaking… How can I help you?”\n\n“Oh hi Joella, Skip here”\n\n“Hi! You’re back from Mexico! How was it?”\n\nJoella didn’t depressed down at all. I thought it was pretty remarkable how peppy she sounded, considering she’d just lost her father. Seemed she and her father were pretty close.\n\n“It was great and sometimes weird. Overall spectacular though.”\n\n“You’ll have to come by and tell us about it… don’t we also have some business to attend to as well?”\n\n“Yes, definitely. Looking forward to it… but… um… if it’s not a good time it can definitely wait.”\n\n“No time like the present, and I’m sure Manny would love to hear some Mexico stories!”\n\n“Manny? He’s ok?”\n\n“Yes, he’s fine. Oh that’s right, he’s in remission!”\n\n“Wow! That’s great news!”\n\nI hesitated a bit, and then told Joella that I did something that she would likely make her think I’d definitely lost it. She asked, so I told her the story of thinking about her father while sitting by the fire up in the Oaxaca mountains. \n\nShe didn’t say anything for a few seconds. I said:\n\n“You think I’m a complete lunatic now don’t you?”\n\n“No, I don’t think you’re a lunatic… not at all… Do you happen to remember what day it was when you did that ceremony thing with the copal incense?”\n\n“Hmmm… let me think… I left on July 9th.. spent the night in Mexico City… then on toward Huautla de Jimenez, but I had to spend a night of the 10th in Teotitlan del Camino before catching the bus on up into the mountains. So, it had to be July 11th. Why?”\n\nJoella was quiet for a few seconds.\n\n“Hello, Joella? Are you still there?”\n\n“Yes, I’m here. That is very strange.”\n\n“Why?”\n\n“Well, it was July 12th that the doctors came in and said that all the evidence of cancer had disappeared… that the tumors appeared to have vanished… and they said he was in remission.”\n\n“Whoa! That’s crazy… it’s just a coincidence though.”\n\n“I don’t know… I think things like that really are possible… so does my father.”\n\nI was thrilled that Manny was still around for a while more. At least for however his remission lasted. I didn’t really think it had anything at all to do with my wild imagination by a  fire outside a mud and thatch-roof hut in the mountains of Oaxaca. It did stick with me though. \n\nI mean, it had to be just pure chance right? Even if those dates lined up kind of eerily? \n\nThis was the first time I attempted this, but it wasn’t the last. So far, with over a dozen or so similar attempts, there was only once that it failed. That’s up there around 90% accuracy rate and hard to write off as pure coincidence as this point. \n\nWhat do I think is going on? Well, I’ve thought about this quite a bit and I believe it has something to do with earnest focussed intent. I’m not a religious person, but I bet it works similarly to group prayer, when several focus their healing intentions on the ailing. Only, I don’t believe the effort is calling on some external being to do the bidding. I think it’s the focussed intent itself. And, I think pretty much anyone can do it. Though, some may be better at it than others. Likely has to do with the individual’s sensitivity and ability to focus their will. \n\nThere will be other examples of this in other stories, but this one was the first attempt and evidence that there may be something to it.\n\nOr, I may indeed be a lunatic. Who's to say? :)\n\nTry it out for yourself. Just get somewhere quiet where you can concentrate without distractions. Imagine the person you want to help. Visualize whatever healing activity you perceive needs to take place, and focus. Go with your intuition. Maybe take a couple stabs a day with it if you’re so inclined, and enlist any others who might be game. Who knows? It might just work. And, it certainly couldn’t hurt to try.\n\nYou can call it \"prayer\" if that fits better with your believe system. It likely makes no difference how it's named, as long as the strong, focussed intent is there.",
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      "body": "The Reluctant Curandero - Part 2\n\n(Continued from Previous Post: The Reluctant Curandero - Part 1) \n\n<center>\n![oaxacamountains.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmcbfSmS9VwCgwancaGEYkcEecES88EJChzGZu6MWZJKzR/oaxacamountains.jpg)\n</center>\nThere’s a small town at the foot of the mountain that you take a bus to called Teotitlan del Camino, but you’re always too late for the last bus heading up into the Sierra Madres where the Mezateca dwell. So, you’ve got to spend the night and finish the last 2-3 hours of bus ride the following day. It’s not that much further, but it’s a narrow road that’s very twisty. The bus moves at a low-gear crawl, and because it’s a local 3rd-class bus, it’s stopping constantly to let indigenous folks on and off along the way. \n\nIt’s an amazing journey though. The vistas from there are heavenly. You’ll be lost in a cloud with almost no visibility, trusting at least the driver can see well enough, and then you’ll come out of this thick cloud to another world of sub-tropical vegetation, waterfalls, and sprawls of farm crops defying gravity up the mountainside. Every now and then you’ll see a tiny old indigenous local with an impossible stack of firewood balanced on his or her back.\n\nThe bus goes all the way up to Huautla de Jimenez, where the mushroom priestess Maria Sabina lived, but I’d met some Mezatecas a couple of years prior to this trip and they live in a small community about 20 minutes before the bus reaches Huautla. I only know the place as “Puente de Fierro”, which means “iron bridge”. This is where you tell the bus driver you want off. As far as I know, that’s what the village is called. Or, more than likely there’s a Mezatec name and it’s easier to just call it by the actual location in Spanish. \n\nWhen you step off the bus, there’s there’s a drop to a crooked river down below that’s full of giant craggy borders. You’re sort of nestled between a couple of mountain peaks that are absolutely lush with green vegetation. There’s a dirt road that crosses the paved road. One way goes to some magnificent waterfalls and various caves. The other way goes to the village. \n\nThis place will come up again in future accounts. Some of the most mystical experiences I’ve had in my life took place in this general area. \n\nOne one side of the paved road there’s a small cocina, or kitchen. It’s basically a ramshackle wood hut that kind of teeters on the edge of the cliff with a small balcony to view the river below. On the other side of the road there’s a small tienda, or store where you can buy a few basic things like sodas, candy, bread, fruit, cerveza, etc. \n\nGrabbed a few items I knew I’d need like a gallon jug of drinking water, some candles, and some snack food. Continued down the dirt road to the village that ends up close to the river’s edge and looked for one of the Mezateca’s, Jaime, who I’d stayed with on the last trip. Didn’t take long since it’s not often that a gringo with a backpack comes lumbering down the old dirt road, but I have seen the occasional Mormon pair of chaps pushing their bikes up the mountain road before. \n\nJaime greeting me with warmth and invited me into his home for a cup of atole. Atole is kind of a pasty and thick white drink… that’s usually served warm or hot. I believe it’s made from corn. You don’t really drink it so much, but more of a warm slurping. It’s not my favorite, but with a little chili and salt, it’s serviceable and takes the edge off if you haven’t eaten in a day or so. \n\nWe caught up a bit and then he took me up the hill to a hut that was empty. Jaime said that he expected some others soon but for now it would be all mine. The interior had a wall made of adobe, but the outside walls were a combination of weaved sticks and impacted mud, with the rare bit of adobe brick. The roof was old stacked palm thatch with a few fresh ones stuffed in for leaks I suppose. There were strong enough cross beams to hang my hammock from, and a door made of lashed together sticks on a rope twine hinge. \n\nAmusingly, there was also a thin chain and padlock on the door… but it seemed more for show. Wouldn’t have taken much to get into this hut, but I guess it made you feel like your stuff was secure. Though, I don’t think theft is really ever much of an issue. Everyone knows each other and it’s a very tight community. However, I did get robbed once there by another backpacker who took some music cassettes to trade for liquor. \n\nThe Derrumbe mushroom experience there is very strong. I don’t plan on being able to even walk much and stick close to the hammock in case my legs just completely give out and I’m laying and writhing on the dirt floor until I get back control of myself. It’s not the sort of thing you could do while taking a hike. They can be so powerful that you can’t move at all. You’re basically laid up traveling in this other spacial dimension. \n\nI typically would wait a day or two before taking part. I’ve been involved in the ceremony with the Mezatecas, but this time I was going solo. My Mezateca host will usually offer a guide to sit with me in case I had any trouble, and also cleanse me with the smoke of copal incense smoke while chanting a prayer. I’ll typically have a single bees wax candle, some calla lilies, and  a small picture of the Virgin with some copal incense smoldering  atop a campfire coal in a small stone mortar and pestle. \n\nI’m not sure what the significance of these items is, but it’s what the Mezatecas always have for a ceremony, so I figure “when in Rome” or Oaxaca… might as well respect the culture. \n\nThis evening though, I wasn’t quite ready. Decided to hold back and clear the mind for at least a night while I acclimated and felt ready. I’d hopped a pickup truck full of locals and headed up to the town of Huautla de Jimenez in the afternoon to get my altar supplies and a few more food items. \n\nThat evening, sitting on a large stone outside of my hut under a night sky, I tended a small fire just in front of my entrance. I put a couple of hot coals in the stone mortar and pestle that Jaime had loaned me, and then a few pieces of copal incense on the hot coals to smolder. \n\nCopal is used for many spiritual practices and is often the incense you smell burning from the Catholic churches in Mexico. It looks like little crystal rock candy, but it’s hardened tree sap. In the market sometimes it’ll have more of an amber color, but the more clear ones are considered better. I’m not sure why, but I’d guess it has something to do with the age and how well it smolders with the coals. I just love the fragrance. \n\nAs I sat watching the flames flicker and the copal smoke catch the heat of the flames and rise up, I began to think of my ol’ compadre Manny Gammage back in Texas. Wishing I was a medicine man or had some kind of shamanic power to lend him a hand with his cancer battle. My imagination wondered to how one receives that kind of medicine knowledge. Figured it likely just gets passed down over generations. \n\nI traveled backward generation after generation. With each transition I imagined an old medicine man or woman passing down the knowledge to the chosen younger recipients. \n\nEventually I reached the end of the line… the very first medicine person. It dawned on me that there had to be the very first shaman and medicine person who didn’t have anyone to receive the knowledge. They had to go with intuition and more of a gut feeling I suppose. \n\nI wondered if I could just try making up my own spiritual intent. Figured it couldn’t hurt to at least try. \n\nSat myself in a comfortable position by the fire so that my concentration wouldn’t be distracted, and I focussed on the fire flames flickering as I let my eyes go a bit out of focus. The copal smoke was strong now and swirling in with the flames and being carried upward. I closed my eyes and imagined myself blending with the smoke and sort of catching a weightless right up along with the copal smoke. \n\n(The Conclusion in the Next Post: The Reluctant Curandero - Part 3)",
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      "body": "![guantanamera-~-oaxaca-mexico_6084763018_o.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmQZJk71KgQ4aRLioGA4fFapEAFBH3BkP66vuBvrfL6U14/guantanamera-~-oaxaca-mexico_6084763018_o.jpg)\n\nThe day before I was to board a bus from Austin, Texas going South… deep into Mexico… I called up a local hatter who I’d done  some photographic work for, Manny Gammage, owner of Texas Hatters in Buda, Texas at the time. \nManny had been around the block a time or two, pretty gruff, but  he also had a peaceful, monk-like demeanor. We chatted off and on about my Mexican backpacking adventures off the beaten path. Manny to let on too much, but you got the impression he was very familiar with the strange experiences one can have if they dive deep enough into the interior.\n\nWe hadn’t chatted in a good while, so I gave him a call to let him know I was once again wandering South. \n\nHis daughter Joella answered the phone:\n\n“Texas Hatters, how can I help you?”\n\n“Oh hi Joella, it’s Skip, is Manny in?”\n\nJoella’s was quiet for a few moments, then answered low:\n\n“Skip… I guess you haven’t heard…”\n\n“Heard what?”\n\n“Manny was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago. Not doing well at all. They’re not even sure if he’ll make it through the week.”\n\nYou could tell she was fighting pretty hard to be strong and not get choked up, but she was mostly failing.\n\n“Oh no! No… I hadn’t heard… I’m so sorry Joella. Where is he?”\n\n“We’re just grateful for the time we’ve had to say our goodbyes. He’s down at the San Antonio VA hospital… you could try to call but today wouldn’t be a good day… he’s hurtin’ pretty bad.”\n\n“I’m actually bussing it to Mexico early in the morning. I just wanted to call and let him know before I left. He always seemed to get a kick out of my Mexico adventures.\n\n“Yes, he did… I’ll tell him you called.”\n\nWe said our goodbyes as Joella gave up trying to hold back breaking down. \n\nBefore the call, I’d been elated to be about to embark on another adventure. After the call, I tried to get some of that back, but couldn’t get the sad news out of my head. I mean, there’s nothing I could do and we weren’t really close friends or anything. Just a couple of people who shared some similar interests and had enjoyed swapping stories a few afternoons over about a years time. \n\nThe bus trip down was a little brutal. I’ve since learned it’s not worth it to knock out long distances in one shot. Much better to take little breaks along the way. Back then it was all about powering through all of the miles at once… then suffering the overwhelming fatigue for a day or so after you get there.\n\nI remember leaving Austin, a layover in San Antonio where I was once again reminded of Manny’s lousy luck, then a bus change with all the border hassles, long layover in the Monterrey, Mexico station… even longer layover in the Mexico City station… then an all-nighter on a rough 3rd-class bus, just to get to the foot of the mountain below Huautla de Jimenez, Oaxaca. \n\nHuautla de Jimenez, Oaxaca is known for a strange indigenous practice of consuming a particular hallucinogenic mushroom that only grows at high altitudes. There’s a name the Mezatec Indians call the mushroom, that roughly translates to “God’s Meat”, but most just call the mushrooms Derrumbe, or “Mud Slide” which is where they grow. They have very powerful psychoactive effects and the Mezatecas believe that consuming them allows them to commune with God. Even the little children eat them on certain birthdays, with a guide, as a rite of passage. \n\nThe main mushroom priestess Maria Sabina was visited by a fellow  named Gordon Wasson who was doing research on the drug referred to as “Soma” by the ancient Indus people (their texts are what Hinduism is based upon). Nobody knows what Soma actually was, but it was allegedly brought here from the heavens by Vishnu. It was supposed to make the poor man feel rich, and the sick man feel well, etc. Many speculate this Soma substance, depicted in Vedic texts as a tree shape, was possibly a psychoactive mushroom instead.  \n\nThe Indus people dwelled in the mountains, and the Derrumbe mushrooms only grow at high altitudes. The idea that the drug Soma was possibly a mushroom, and possibly the same species that was imbibed by a Oaxacan, Mexico indigenous mushroom cult was also speculated by Gordon Wasson.\n\nAfter Mr. Wasson had journeyed up into the mountains to verify this mushroom cult real did exist, and partake in ceremonies with Maria Sabina, he had several of his papers published by a friend who was the head editor at Time magazine. This was round the late 60’s and early 70’s I believe… right around the time that the article would inspire many hippies of the day to make a bee line for this mystical mushroom cult in the mountains of Oaxaca. \n\nMany popular celebrities in the late 60’s like Donovan, Bob Dylan, Timothy Leary, and even the Beatles… all visited this mushroom priestess named Maria Sabina as well. And then even more hippies flooded in. The trouble was, that this was a spiritual ceremony involving a fungus the Mezatecas believed to be God’s meat… given to them in order to commune with the great creator. Unfortunately, the hippies didn’t get that memo and all hell broke loose, with deranged young people fighting each other, running around naked, and… well, you can imagine what else! And, that it didn’t go over so well with the Mezatecas. \n\nThere’s more to tell of this incredibly exotic and magical place… and I’ll tell you more about it too, but this is just to let you know what some of the backstory of the place I was headed to.\n\n\n\n(To be continued...  Next Post: The Reluctant Curandero - Part 2)",
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      "body": "![shirefire.JPG](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmSM6dWZ3QdFWHhQ3uAaZ8t9BfUNgZ6w2bsnwLr7iPAbGU/shirefire.JPG)\n\n(Continued from Previous Post: The Interdimensional - Part 1) \n\nhttps://steemit.com/story/@skiphunt/the-interdimensional-part-1\n\nHeaded back out to the scorching heat and waved goodbye to the gentlemen from the street. \n\nWalked around in a little bit of a daze after that. It was so hot and humid, all I wanted to do was get back to my hammock in the shade of my palapa at Maya Belle and lay there thinking about what we’d talked about. \n\nLater that afternoon I was hammock swaying in my palapa when some other backpackers I’d met earlier stopped by. They were curious where I’d disappeared to all afternoon. I told them I had to run into town to make a call home, but that I’d run into a very interesting fellow who’d helped me out translating. \n\nThere were three of them, and I remember a couple of them were from Austria and another was Australian. With each of the details details I told them they drew in closer. When I finished all I could remember, they still wanted more. They asked, “Do you remember where his cafe is?” “Yeah, I think so.” I tried to explain how to get to the cafe from the phone place, but ended up saying, “Sorry, I’d know where we walked if I was there, but I can’t recall if it was one block, then turn, or two blocks…” “Well, could you take us there?” “Oh, I guess so… I don’t really have any reason to go back into town right now… but there’s still time before the collectivo taxis stop.. so why not… I’d like to hear more from him too.” \nThey all seemed pretty excited and ran back to their palapas to grab their belongings, and we were off. \n\nOnce we got back into town I was completely turned around. I wasn’t quite sure which way the cafe was and the group was getting a little annoyed. I said, “I’m sorry, it’s all looking the same now and I can’t remember which way I went when I left, because I ended up just wandering around making some photos. I’d also had a couple cervezas and it was so hot that I was a little delirious too.” “Should be go back to Maya Belle then?” “No, give me a second… I’m sure I can find it. Wait, lets just go back to the phone place. I’m sure from there I can retrace where we went.”\n\nTo be clear, I really had no idea at all. For some unexplained reason, the location of this cafe was escaping me. Maybe it was the heat beating down and radiating back up off the concrete. Maybe it was the beers. Going back to the phone place was a desperate shot in the dark because I was embarrassed that I’d been so confident of it’s location before. \n\nOnce we got to the front of the phone place, I still didn’t have a clear idea. I remembered the direction we started off, but I we were chatting along the way and I really wasn’t paying attention. So, when we started off from the entrance in the direction we’d walked, I stopped even trying to remember. Sort of switched to a gut feeling or intuition. After about 20 minutes of walking, turning, turning again, then continuing around a corner… I was about to confess I was lost. When at that very moment I looked up and there was the cafe and the fellow standing there greeting is. Whew! \n\nThe fellow went to the back for drink menus and I motioned for the others to take a seat at one of the two tables. The Australian guy pulled a chair over form the other table and we waited. The others were excited to hear more from this mysterious fellow, as was I, but I was also baffled at how I was able to find my way back to this place after being certifiably lost. \n\nThe fellow came back and passed out some laminated single page printout menus of the snacks and drinks they served. Everyone just wanted cold cervezas and I confirmed that the Superior cervezas were still the coldest. They just wanted to get on with the good stuff, the mystic secrets… as did I.\n\nWhen he came back with the cervezas, he passed them out then stood by quietly looking out toward the street. At that moment I noticed something that had been nagging me from the first time I spoke with him but couldn’t put my finger on. When you visit Mayan ruins sites, or look at photos of the stone carvings they left behind, you’re struck with one consistent characteristic. They’re almost always depicted in profile, and their noses dominate most of their face. It’s as if the top of the nose doesn’t stop at the bridge between the eyes, but instead continues up into the forehead. It’s a striking look, and this fellow had that very same look. \n\nThe carvings always appear to have very smooth skin as well, completely free from imperfection or wrinkles. I suppose this is likely the case with most carvings and statues. But, this fellow’s skin also seemed nearly flawless and almond-colored. The majestic nose, the almond eyes, the way he sort of lightly glided as he walked… he looked like what I imagine a Mayan might’ve looked like. \n\nThe others were motioning at me to try and get his attention and see if I’d start sharing the stories again. I asked him plainly, \n\n“Um… I was telling my friends here about some of the interesting things you were telling me earlier.”\n”Yes, what things would that be?”\n”You know, about communicating with the mind… the Hitler… traveling with thought…”\n“Excuse me? I don’t recall any such conversation.”\n“You don’t? Remember I was here earlier?”\n“Yes, I helped you out at the phone center and then you stopped by my cafe for a cerveza.”\n“Seriously? You don’t remember anything we talked about?”\n“I’m sorry, I don’t. And, I need to get back to the kitchen to prepare for the evening, if you’ll excuse me.”\nHe slipped away to the kitchen. The others looked at me with aggravation that I’d made the whole thing up and dragged them into the town for nothing. \n“I’m so sorry… I swear he said all of that stuff I told you. I’m not sure why he’s denying it. Very strange”\n“Yes, sure he did”\n“He did! If I was making it up, why would I double down and bring you all here?”\n“It’s ok. The cervezas were pretty cold. That was worth the trip alone. We’re heading back to Maya Belle. You want to catch a collectivo with us?”\n“No, I’m going to hit the market for some fruit before I head back. So sorry about this.”\n“Don’t worry about it!”\n\nThey took off down and I sad there for a bit finishing my cerveza and having a smoke. The fellow finally came back and asked if I wanted another cerveza. I told him I did and then asked him…\n\n“So, you really don’t remember our conversation from earlier in the morning after you helped me at the phone center?”\nHe stared at me and said nothing.\n“Maybe, 3 or 4 hours ago? We came back here and you were telling me about how you communicated with your daughters using thought?\n“Yes, I remember the conversation and everything I told you.”\n“Then why did you deny it in front of my friends?”\n“Because those things I told you were for you, and you alone. It wasn’t for them. And, I will tell you more and teach you the things I know when you’re ready. But, you’re not ready yet.”\n“Ok… well, what do I need to do to get ready?”\n“There’s nothing you can consciously do to prepare. When it’s time, I will see you again and tell you more.”\n\nWe parted ways and I went back to Maya Belle. I thought about what he’d said and that there was nothing I could do to prepare, so I just put it in the back of my head for later. \n\nAbout a year or two later, I was once again traveling in Mexico and had wondered back to Palenque to stay at Maya Belle. I hadn’t forgotten about the experience with the strange Mayan looking fellow and couldn’t wait to get back to his cafe to see if I was finally “ready” to learn more. \n\nAgain, it took me awhile to find his cafe again, but I did. Took a seat and eagerly waited for the fellow to take my order. Only, it was a different man now. I stepped back on the sidewalk to double check that I was at the right cafe. \nI asked the man if the owner was there. He said…\n\n“I’m the owner.”\n“Ok, well… I’m pretty sure I was at this cafe a year or so ago and there was a different owner.”\n“Yes, a short fellow with almond eyes?”\n“Yes! Is he still here?”\n“No. He was here, and then he disappeared.”\n“He moved? Do you know where?”\n“No. When I say disappeared, I mean he, his wife and two girls were here one day, and the next they were gone. They didn’t even take any of their clothes or belongings. They just disappeared.”\n“Seriously?”\n“Yes, it was very strange. He was renting this space and operating the cafe, and then they disappeared. Nobody had any idea where they went. They even left the stove and refrigerator. It’s like they vanished into thin air.”\n“That's pretty bizarre. No clue where they went at all?”\n“No. The fellow was renting this place and had paid for the next month in advance. After 3 or 4 months went by, I asked the landlord if I could take it over and she agreed. All of the furniture, cash register, stove, refrigerator, tables and chairs… everything is actually their’s. I figured I’d put them to use until they come back… if they ever come back.”\n\nI walked around Palenque streets for awhile wondering what could have happened to them, or if I’d ever see the fellow again. \n\nIt’s now been over 20 years since I met the mystical Mayan interdimensional fellow. Strangely, I still think I may see him again one day just as he promised. I only hope that when that happens… this time… I’ll be ready.",
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