OBEAH PLACES, PROSAIC PLACES, PONDS, KUNDALINI SNAKES, PENSIVE STROLLS, AND THE WORLDS THAT WAIT UNDER THE FOREST COVER……………………..

We go towards the regular way but for some reason decide to cut right. There is nobody around, - so there are no crowds to avoid. There is the homeless guy in his car back there, and I like him so much and helped tow him and I don’t lock my doors for him or anyone else. If they want whets there, - which are a shop rag, some insect repellent, and the ownership papers and the vehicle itself, - they can go ahead. I can hitch a ride somehow, - and have the same van in a different color waiting for me to pick up quite literally anyhow. Plus, you would be hard pressed to find bad people there, though there have been a few break ins before during a few weeks last summer. Well, - cutting right we see again some interesting insects and flowers and hear some nice sounds but mostly as they say, - as Paul Simon says, the sounds of silence, - though his silence is not good. I see a boulder, - and it’s nice because there are hardly any boulders there. We look out at the vast valley, another one- not the old regular one- though perhaps in a way they are connected, and wonder how much Chaga is there. Chaga mushroom, - but it was a bit of a fad because I don’t think of it much any longer. I have more than enough here anyhow. And what else? We go down some paths we have not visited in a long time, - and move slowly, lazily, like on a lazy river. There are a few birds up there, and some squirrels around, - but that is all we can discern. We are alone, at peace, getting movement. My headache seems to cease for a while. The cities and even the towns are full of a kind of ripe psychic discord. I would rather follow the spirit of Thoreau, and shall as much as possible. I laud him in my mind’s eye, and Emerson, Kerouac, Gary Snyder, Walt Whitman, Rumi,- those types,- but don’t know much about any living poets or authors,- though there are movements, groups, outcasts, artists, of all and various types that can be found with a little searching in any town or city. On we go- wildflowers, not too many insects bothering us this day.- We circle back to a pond to see really weird dragonflies with actual big blue bulging eyes,- and red dragonflies also- which I did not know existed. We meet a man, and he is just walking and he is friendly and stops to talk. He mentions he feels better after his walks, and though his dog passed, he still walks. He is young; thirties, and maybe its day off or maybe he does shift work or night work or does not have employment. (I like everybody generally to stay in the world at their posts and leave the greater nature work and fields, ponds, forests, - to me). There he goes and I wish him well. We had agreed that whatever the case, - the mosquitoes and especially the Deer Flies, are extra abundant this season. Dogs stand on a log. We go up the way and find an opening, kind of like something where they would film the Indian or South American Shaman or the Obeah man or woman doing some kind of honest ritual- its barren in the middle of thick forest, - these wonderfully parched and dried out logs stretch everywhere in the middle and perimeter,- they look like something from a painting or a dream that could be sublime or lurid but an intense dream no matter what. There is sand and acorns scattered in the grains and the acorns receive the sun like a message. Just enough green waits around the edges of there, -and I saw a snake a few days ago passing there- a kundalini snake or a bad snake…………no- it was good- it was a representation of the Kundalini energy!- a medium sized adult garter snake, indigenous to the region and season. The dogs take off, running in widening circles, - joyous and skilled and still young. For now, - the moment is perfect. .

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