Beatrix Kiddo

I take a pleasant 4-mile trek from my house to the Martial Arts and Family Fitness Center where I’ve come to see Jen D take her test for the black belt in Hapkido. I arrive and take a seat beside a mat that covers an entire floor of a large industrial-looking room. About halfway through the adult program .. Jen takes a blow to the solar plexus while sparring that staggers her. She taps-out and leaves the mat where she quickly recovers and returns for the next drill. After an hour and a half of takedown drills and spinning kicks designed to disarm her opponent ..her final feat is a flying sidekick, which you have to be there to believe. She takes a running start to gain forward momentum .. goes airborne over three barrels ..and kicks a board that’s three inches thick with the sole of her right foot .. breaking it in half with a resounding crack. It’s not like she has feet made of steel or anything ..but she’s learned to deliver ‘energy’ - created by her weight and momentum - to the soles of her feet at the exact moment of impact. She passes with flying colors. Her Grandmaster tells her to drop the red belt she’s wearing and then he ceremoniously wraps a black belt around her. Now, Jen conveys feelings mostly through her face, which at this moment is beaming red with ecstasy and a smile so large it lights up the room. 

Jen D aka Beatrix Kiddo

Freedom

to do naked bong hits
photo courtesy of Coral Reefer

Rapture

Diane pays homage to the power of the pumpkin

Coral in Amsterdam

Coral Reefer reporting from

 Cannabis Cup 2012 in Amsterdam

Kundalini Shakti

Be Here Now
Photo courtesy of Kālī at

ॐ AUM ॐ

Sampling Amsterdam

Coral Reefer reporting from Amsterdam: “..at the Cannabis Cup they’re presenting marijuana from different coffee shops around town”

Cafe in Amsterdam

Coral Reefer reporting from Amsterdam “Purchased some imported Moroccan hash at The Other Side for €10/gram. The quality imported hash selection in Amsterdam is something we just don’t have in the United States.”

Erika

 

"Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, teaming with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself."      - Joseph Cambell

Kālī

 

 

By Serena Kali Devi

 

As I exhaled my bong load I melted to nothing warped into another dimension. I had no thought or life. I was no longer human. My life no longer existed, I had forgotten everything I've ever know. Gone... Once I was quickly and completely out of body, transported into hyperspace, Hindu goddess, Kali, the 'Dark Mother', took me on a magical vivid journey of colors, textures and mystical places. Everything was very colorful, and vibrant. She seductively gestured me to follow her, I followed with pleasure. She was mostly woman as she guided me, but as scenary changed so did her shape. From tigress to serpent she had me hypnotized showing me a world more beautiful than words can describe. Colors were exploding, dripping and splashing I could feel them and taste them. There was a distinct sound, a buzz, a vibration. I interpenetrated this vibration as the words "look", "see" and "follow" comforting me and rapidly repeating. There was a melting feeling, a melting feeling that took over my body made me feel wet, soaked. Not that my solid body matter was wet (because I was 'out of body'), but that I was water, a liquid matter. I flowed, following her though the universe, though her temple and I also flowed through her as blood in her veins. Vision after vision I fell deeper and deeper into her trance. But, once I hit my absolute peak, when I felt as if I reached the point of no return, a thought finally arose in my head. I slightly remembered physical self and without words questioned "wtf is going on?". Once I asked myself that i kinda remembered that this journey started because I took a drug. Then I remembered that I'm in a room of people being completely silent, patiently waiting for their turn, carefully watching me go through this experience. Once I recognized, realized and remembered my existence, the vivid images began to fade and an upside down triangle appeared. I tunneled though the portal of triangles back into reality. Finally I was somewhat able to see the real world around me. I looked up at my friends and all I could say was "wow" and also asked if i had pee'd myself (cuz of the wet feeling LOL). Slowly coming out of my trip, I laid back down to enjoy the rest of what she had to show me. The ceiling was now visible, but I could still see thousands of Kali's in patterns kaleidoscoping in my vision. The kaleidoscopic of her was rhythmically circling/ moving side to side as if it were a dance and wave goodbye. The intricate patterns began to blur and the colors blended as energy in the air. I finally stood up to let someone else take my place on the air bed for their trip. My body high was fading but I could still see and feel the pink, purple, blue and green energy pumping though the room and the friends accompanying me. This lasted for several more minutes after i had awaken. My friends told me that I laid there in my trip for about 12 minutes. They also said my eyes were wide open the whole time. I sat there trying to answer their questions of what I saw or remembered, but at that moment my brain was still barely processing the experience. Even today, I'm still mentally downloading what happened. There is so much more that I saw which I cant find the words explain and still don't even understand. But each minute that has passed since my trip, I've been able to better understand what was being shown to me. The most interesting part about my trip is that, before this experience I had no knowledge of Kali. Ive been doing my research on her and the more I'm learning about her, the more in love with her I fall and the more pure and true my experience with her becomes. I now feel a nurturing protection of her watching over me. I've gained a sense of enlightenment and a more free spirit. In my real world, life has been hard, but I suddenly feel at peace with the world. My experience with her has so much meaning in my life, I decided have her symbol, the Kali Yantra, tattooed on my back.

Eli

I saw Eli again for the first since middle-school. Both of us briefly attended the International school of Geneva (Ecolint). He was the son of a rich Indian jewelry trader. I remember it was the first time I ever tasted Godiva chocolates. Now he’s fond of repeating how he took over the family business ..watched it grow ..then lost it in a recent, one-sided divorce settlement and has had to start from scratch. Selling to rich, gay Saudis’ helped. Now he travels around the world looking for precious stones and customers for his jewelry business ..and playing polo. Africa, Thailand, Hong Kong, Saudi Arabia and Geneva Switzerland are all on his trade route. Although Geneva is still where he calls home ..he’s hardly ever there so he said he was thinking about selling his house and buying a retirement home in Thailand. I didn’t know how to respond other than suggest he talk to his accountant first. His business extends to fine watches too, though I wasn’t able to get a price on a used Cartier ..and he wouldn’t sell me the one he was wearing. He said what I need is a Rolex Submariner. I asked him to keep an eye out for me ..preferably pre-owned. We’ll see. I don’t think he was here on business, which helps explain why it was such an enjoyable visit. It was good to see him again and I look forward to seeing him in Geneva next summer, which is probably why I wasn’t more enthusiastic when he was talking about selling his place.

my suspicion

(warning: movie-spoiler for the film ‘Shutter Island’)

Rick commented to me, saying “..it’s easy to tell who the mental lightweight is” when referring to someone who ‘saw the movie’ vs. someone who also ‘read the book’. We were talking about ‘Slaughterhouse five’. I disagreed saying that watching a good movie is just as stimulating as reading a good book. Both require equal amounts of mental activity in order to make sense of the story. I even think people are more critical movie-watchers than book-readers. While watching movies, I find myself supplying information that the moviemakers leave out, in order to bridge scenes and re-construct narrative. What doesn’t fit or isn’t resolved to my satisfaction by the end of a movie ..I recognize as speculation and throw it out. If it’s critical to understanding the story ..I blame the moviemakers for leaving it out ..and have fun trashing the film with friends afterward. Not so much with books. I know when I’m talking to somebody about a book I’ve read, and they have a different interpretation ..it’s much harder to convince me that mine is wrong ..no matter how delusional I may be. We were also talking about the movie ‘Shutter Island’. The ending lends itself to competing interpretations. The main character, played by Leonardo DiCaprio, could either be a policeman investigating a crime at a psychiatric hospital ..or a patient confined to the psychiatric hospital. I choose to believe he was a policeman only because the film showed him arriving on the island by boat. I also knew it required an awfully elaborate conspiracy theory, on my part, to support it. Rick thought he was a patient. When I asked why ..he described how events, which lead me to think he was a policeman, were actually simulated by doctors to bring him back to reality. It was easy for me to discard my elaborate theory in favor of his much simpler explanation. When I mentioned this to someone else, they confirmed that it was that way in the book as well. I still don’t know who the lightweight is ..but I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s me.

Amy

I know Amy from the university. She is drop-dead gorgeous, even though she wears no make-up and dresses down in black jeans, torn sweatshirts and biker boots. She kinda resembles Mary Louise Parker ..only not so baby-faced. I really enjoy talking with her ..she has crazy-off-center ideas. She’s an honors-student majoring in chemistry. I ran into her the other night at the springs. I hadn’t seen her for a long time. She was cheerful but in trouble. The university had expelled her, her fiancé bailed on her and the police were considering charges against her. What charges ..? Something about being an accessory in the death of her roommate. I’m like, WTF ..? She goes on to tell me there wasn’t a day that went by she didn’t hear her roommate talk about committing suicide. I guess Amy didn’t take her seriously after hearing this for like, seven months. She borrowed a gun from her fiancé and brought it home. Her roommate shot herself the next day. Amy shows no remorse. She did not think her roommate would do it “I mean, if she was really going to do it she’d have done it already.” I’m stunned ..a hundred things run through my head. Things like, you get help for people in distress, not a gun. Now I feel repelled, telling myself I could have expected something like this from someone like her. However, when I look a little closer, what I’m really doing is re-interpreting my experiences, and some of her outrageous, but perfectly innocent remarks ..to fit this unforeseeably tragic turn of events.

Paul

Paul was classified mentally unfit for service during the Vietnam war. He wasn’t crazy, nor did he try to act crazy ..it’s just that LSD mimics the effects of psychosis.That action persists even after the drug has left the system ..especially among frequent users. Fortunately, most of them know the difference, at least Paul did. There was a small celebration at his apartment (he’d been sweating his possible induction for weeks). After that, I lost track of him. Years later, while I was moving to Santa Barbara, I noticed a banana plantation growing on a hillside above highway 101. My puny brain told me that bananas don’t grow in the US. Then I learned that Paul had found a micro-climate where they did. With the help of a professor of wine-making at UC Davis, he started a business growing specialty bananas for high-end markets, as well as regular bananas for times when local supplies ran short. Not bad for a mentally unfit hippie. Actually, I did not make the connection between Paul and the plantation right away. I read about it in the paper the next day ..and saw a picture of him standing inside the plantation. Blew me away. I dropped by after surfing one day and met the professor’s daughter ..who told me that I had just missed Paul. She said that Paul sold his interest in the place a week before ..then disappeared. They couldn’t tell me where he went, but then they said ..well, that’s just like Paul now, isn’t it.

Buzzed

I walk to state street and get buzzed sipping iced coffee at ‘the bean’, while watching tourists stream in and out of starbucks across the street. Ryan shows me a clip of women skim boarding on youtube ..his daughter is competing this summer ..I tell him I’d like to go see that. Now I’m watching an intense game of ‘go’ next to us .. “takes cojones” he says. I go what, playing ‘go’ ..? No, competitive skim boarding .. she’s cracked her head twice already. I go “No shit ..why don’t you make her wear a helmet or something ..?” when I remember she’s grown up now ..and I’ve never seen anybody wearing a helmet skim boarding. We duck into the ‘fiesta’ to see the movie ‘runaways’ ..but 30 seconds into it we realize we’re watching ‘repo men’. ‘Runaways’ ‘repo men’ ..it’s a common mistake, I tell him. We switch to door number two. ‘Runaways’ isn’t bad, kinda’ historical ..shows me how little I know about Joan Jett. About three-quarters of the way through, I’m thinking I’d like to see more musical performance than personal drama ..but I guess I was expecting something like ‘prey for rock and roll’, which is actually in my collection of concert DVDs, along with Tom Petty and Flyleaf. Afterward, Ryan asks if I want to go see ‘English Beat’ at Soho’s tomorrow ..takes me longer than usual to find them in my mental collection of 80’s music ..which is pretty slim and makes me think how pathetic I am ..that and how old I am.

Dr Gregg

“ADHD is built-in ..it’s part of our nomadic heritage ..otherwise our ancestors would have been eaten hundreds of thousands of years ago. Try wringing-out that kind of adaptation from kids by the second or third grade.”

..or so says Dr Gregg, speaking to me from his estate in Ann Arbor, where he’s surrounded by books from the 16th - 17th century, depicting life in Indian communities before the arrival of the conquistadors. He’s a one-man research institute. He’s writing a book on stress ..or ‘cortico-tropin releasing factor’, which he says gets triggered by the ‘reptilian’ part of the brain in response to sensory signals that haven’t reached the recognition-centers yet. Transmission to this area is more channel-direct, he tells me ..and it releases stress-hormones in response to anything unfamiliar, which means pretty much everything that hasn’t reached the recognition-centers yet. I called because I was reading about a group of neuroscientists at Emory University who have discovered pretty much the same thing he’s been lecturing about for decades ..that is, we’re not the brightest species on the planet. At best we come in a distant third. He goes on to tell me that whales have much greater potential for intelligence ..their brains are real well-suited for processing their underwater environment. And they have language. Their bio-sonar system allows them to communicate with whales in any ocean on the planet. Their language is complex, comes in different dialects, and they pass it on from one generation to the next. He cites linguists who have reported changes recently. Whales off the coast of California are chatting in deeper voices, which carry farther. Apparently local supplies of salmon are running low so they’re contacting suppliers off the coast of Japan. Whenever I get off the phone with Dr Gregg, I detect a mid-range humming sound running through my own brain.

Noblesse Oblige Award

The recipient of this award is recognized for the following:

• The Blogger manifests exemplary attitude, respecting the nuances that pervade amongst different cultures and beliefs.
• Their Blog contents inspire; strives to encourage, and offers solutions.
• There is a clear purpose at the Blog; one that fosters a better understanding on Social, Political, Economic, the Arts, Cultures, Sciences and Beliefs.
• The Blog is refreshing and creative.
• The Blogger promotes friendship and positive thinking.

Bill Quinn presented me with the Noblesse Oblige award for journal writing. It’s an honor for me because I value Bill’s journal writing very highly. He writes from a place in his heart that resonates with the rest of us. Bill’s journal ~> Thought Sketches is like a book of poems that I keep by my bedside at night.

My own blog, Observation Deck, is a journal of ordinary events ..sometimes followed by my own half-baked ideas. What am I trying to achieve ..? A writing practice that will allow me to catch a glimpse of my own internal dialogue every once in a while. Hopefully others will hear something familiar.

In turn, I am passing this award to Amy Spain for her blog Cookiewonton. Amy can turn everyday occurrences into literature. Her style sounds natural ..like Faulkner. I especially enjoy reading stories about her children Noah and France. They are written with such clarity and humanity that I feel like I just spent a delightful afternoon with them ..makes me want to return as often as I can.

Thank you Amy ..!

heineken green

The water changed dramatically overnight ..now it’s sub-zero freezing and beer-bottle green ..the color of a Heineken. Knocks the wind out of me. Eddie says arctic currents must’ve arrived and replaced the warm water that was here yesterday ..probably run-off from a melting iceberg. Lenny laughs and goes: “that means it ain’t no Heineken brahh ..it’s downstream beer.” Then Barb points at her watch and goes: “It’s November 7th guys ..you ought to be bringing wetsuits and fins with you ..that way it won’t matter what kinda’ beer.” We all agree she’s gotta good point. We go for a swim at sunset. The rays hit the water like stained glass ..adding scarlet and pink to a deeper shade of Heineken green ..the sky is a color that no one has a name for.

offshore condition

The water is much warmer and calmer than yesterday ..it’s also beer-bottle brown. Eddie says it’s like red tide only with a different kind of microorganism. He doesn’t remember which. I wonder if he ever really knew. I’m in the water way past sunset because I haven’t got sense enough to get out ~ and now the air's like way too cold. Barb swims by and asks me where my fins are ..again. I try to explain that I wear them only when, like uh .. “like never” she interjects .. and I go: “no, more like on wavier days” ~ but now that's like, beside the point. “You’re never gonna catch me without them” she says ~ and jets out of sight wearing some pretty serious diving fins ~ I hear her laughter fading as she goes. I do a few more backstrokes and head into shore ~ where I run into a dog that looks exactly like Andy, when Andy was just a couple months old, and I’m like: “Oh my god, Andy you shrunk.” I’m sitting there while he licks the salt off of my hands and face. When his human arrives, I tell him how much I love Airedales ~ and he tells me that’s not an Airedale ..it’s a Welsh Terrier ~ fully grown. I’m like: “Whooaah, no way ..!!” and he’s laughing and saying: “Yeah, he’s six years old” and I’m like, wow, looks like a miniature version of my own dog. I go on to tell him how smart I think they are ~ and he goes: “ mmm, not this one ..he’s dumber'n a mule ..we just got him from the pound.” Give him time ..I say, give him time (because I seriously believe Andy is one of the smartest species on the planet).

Niece Karla and Andy

Wheel inside a wheel

I’m still upset about my conversation with Jim yesterday. I need some reassurance, so ..I call my friend Marty; a financial planner in Laguna Beach. He sounds really shook. He tells me that he’s having panic attacks and trouble sleeping at night. Three years ago, about the height of the real estate market ..he was afraid the bubble was going to burst ..so he sold his ranch in Trabuco Canyon and moved to a small apartment in town. He put the money he made into the stock market. Now he’s watching his investments evaporate ..and says it feels like he stepped off a cliff ..and he’s still falling. I guess he didn’t see it coming ..but then ..who did. Worst part of it is, he says, his clients call him everyday going: “Marty, I can’t take it anymore ..cash me out.” I tell him to hang-in there ..ride it out (surfing term) ..it can only get better. He says he’s gotta’ go now and put dinner ..or his head ..in the oven. The poor guy feels worse than I do. I conclude that it doesn’t matter which party is in power ..the markets are like a cycle inside a cycle inside a cycle. Government has about as much chance of harnessing that as they do the weather.

Jim

Jim is furious with me. The closer it gets to election day, the more black and white our thinking becomes. He knows I’m independent ..but socially progressive. To him that’s socialism. Then, like a drop of ink in clear water ..everything turns color. Over the phone, he blames the democrats in congress for the financial mess we’re in. Nothing specific comes to mind so I ask him to explain. Annoyed, he shouts: “you know ..social programs like Fannie Mae”. Being from another generation, it seems like they’ve been around forever ..I Google them and find out they were created in the 1960’s ..and I’m thinking Johnson administration, great society and entitlement programs ..maybe he’s right ..but then, no ..that can’t be ..goes back too far. I go: “Jim, that was forty years ago ..property values have been going up ever since ..what happened ?” He goes: “We have a democratic congress again.” I still don’t see the connection ..so I figure it’s my turn to make up some shit: “Tell you what I think, Jim ..it’s the republican administration’s fault ..they made it easier for banks to make risky loans .. by allowing investment firms (like Lehman Bros.) to buy them and re-sell them in the stock market (I figure, kind of like Fannie Mae ..it let’s the banks off the hook). Silence. “Jim, I think there’s plenty of blame to go around ..” More silence. I’ve crossed the line into irredeemable territory. We end the conversation politely ..but he’s not too pleased with me. I think I need to get one of those books by Dale Carnegie.