Marmalade Cream

Last Friday I ate some of the mushrooms — harvested from the Oregon coast — that I’ve been carrying around since last winter. It was time, after years without having taken them — mushrooms and I have always gotten along swimmingly, but this time was so much more focused, more direct than ever before. And I wrote about it in a way I never have, as well. Below is a good chunk of the “trip report.” If that’s your kinda thing, enjoy!

Last night I dreamed Helen Keller sits atop a high chain-link fence with her brothers, under a blue sky on a prairie. She’s a young woman — soft short dark hair, serene, beautiful, confidant. The brothers are older, and maybe younger ones stand on the ground below. An older one or three sit on the fencetop with her, spaced out (i mean literally — not clustered together) — she is balanced, sitting up straight. She wears a muted dark blue dress. The older brothers are warm and protective toward her — not patronizing or controlling, but full of respect and reverence for her. She explains, a twinkle in her eye, “That‘s not why I gave up my sight,” implying instead her mystical visions as the unspoken reason.

The first real contact was intense color – coming up faster than ever before into vivid vision. I met some emissaries from mushroom-world. They came to me out of a blaze of yellow-orange light. They were short but bigger than me, with disproportionately big baby faces, with diminishing baby-faces radiating infinitely up and behind them in the shape of those tower-y thai headresses. They were jovially friendly but plainly assertive that I should eat the earthworms one held out to me in his cupped hands. The earthworms were like the baby-faced mushroom-men and their world behind them, all of it made of tangerine light. As soon as I saw the worms in his cupped hands I knew it was a good idea. They said the earthworms would make my insides feel better, and I took them thinking how this made total sense.

The night before I’d dreamed two dreams. The first — a response to my having asked for a dream whether or not to eat the mushrooms — was I bring special food to Obama. The second I couldn’t remember at first — but this with the earthworms triggered last night’s second unremembered dream. In it I’m cooking (can’t remember having any cooking dreams before) and realize there are earthworms in the pan with the food, and the heat has killed some of them already. This isn’t right, they’re supposed to be served alive. Maybe I was supposed to add them after the cooking part? I feel kinda bad.

The mushroom-men giving me the worms to eat felt like balancing a mistake. Like here, it’s okay, try again. I also felt the worms were the mushrooms themselves – especially later, when I ate some more worm-like stems. Mmm. It seemed like they were telling me that mushrooms are good medicine for me right now, or not to forget that their medicine is there. That was how I felt coming up – which was fast but smooth, no sickness whatsoever…I laid there feeling the light come into my muscles and felt so languid and good – I love how it makes my body feel, every movement like waking up in the morning — and just thought, “Mmm, Medicine. This is the medicine I’ve missed so much.”

This with the worms was the beginning of a first swell of visions, which were all emotional. I steered for an image of going into emotion, of a way into places inside me I haven’t been able to access. There was a vision of men on a Northern fishing boat on an icy ocean, packing fish into an ice locker – they just keep packing, as if to say this is the image, we will repeat while you see it. The fish is reddish and silver, some loose in the ice and some in crates. Sometimes the men packing – one to my left and one to my right as I face the open locker – they’re white, middle-aged, deeply lined faces – sometimes they turn back for more fish to pack – from where I’m standing, or near me – and sometimes they look up at me, like, are you getting this? They’re putting a sea turtle, still alive, in the ice-locker. It’s shiny black with tortoise-shell yellow. This fills me with great sadness, upsetting and deeply wrong. I make them stop and set the turtle free. I feel its simple relief. I want to go swim with it in the icy waters, and fantasize for a minute about what that would be like. It’s very important that the turtle be free, and I feel much better knowing it is.

From here I went into grief, and it wasn’t clenching at all. It was like deep sadness moved around me but it could find no hold in me. Soft waves of tears spilled from my eyes, closed and perfectly relaxed, freely all down my cheeks. A female presence drew me up out of the depths, up a continuum of grief to the height of its gray square pillar – it felt masonic up there. She wears a white dress up here and I marvel that even now I rise, that it’s in grief’s nature to rise, or that love should feel so light. It’s the most natural rising, like a gentle upside-down gravity. At the top – there are other stone beams here at the top, joints, a chamber – carved in the pillar is an anchor, which impies a heart, with some simple glyphs. There was a moment of healing old grief and guilt from the herbal incident of 2004 (sorry if you don’t know what that is, but I’m not going to explain it here), which came up totally unexpectedly but obviously needed to be aired. I thought of Mom, when she was tripping in the hotel room, and laughed — the laughter vibrated all through me, something my body amplified, through my rib-cage in waves of mango-colored light.

The night before, trying to have some clear intent, I wrote: I seek emotional healing. I seek my shining self. I practice focus. This is precisely what I was given. The first big swell of visions was all medicine/healing, and came right away, like they were eager for me. The second big wave of visions was all shine, and was at the end – when it finished, I knew I was coasting back. In between I had a very strong sense of learning earth consciousness, like that was the most important untertaking, to express that rightly — I kept thinking Earth-consciousness is cosmic too. I felt like I could love no task more than this, a learning and teaching. I felt perfectly empowered by my focus, easily able to turn away distractions and ideas and people that are not “my work,” and the way of doing this was to say No, that’s not my story (anymore). At one point – the only time I really spoke – my voice suddenly popped out of me, clear as day, and said conversationally “I’m lookin’ to bring my people together.”

All day it was unusually, thickly overcast and muggy. In the late afternoon there was a momentary patch of sunlight on my bed so I curled up in it, and it was pure bliss – eyelash light, wonder. I was playing my eyelid against the edge of the sun and studying the various light. After doing this awhile I noticed what I can only call crazy little mandalas palimpsested on top of each other, of all sizes and opacities, visible at the edge of the sun’s corona and spilling out in infinite repetitions flowing into one another, and this thing is not anything, any style I recognize but it is immediately, undeniably Earthly. Its colors are earth-red and black and white crystal/petal spheres and either yellow or glinting light. In that the black and earth-red connect/bridge the spheres, it’s kind of kabbalah. Yet it’s not the classic “tree of life,” it has facets reminiscent of other cultures and also living cells, and sometimes in the spheres there’s imagery that seems mesoamerican. There is the one “tree of life” but in reality it flows and turns into itself at every possible extremity so it evokes multiple structures. My half-closed eyelid becomes the domed roof of an open structure – like a vaguely mission-style pagoda temple, painted an old flaking white below its dome, which glows terracotta from the warm sunset light. It looks out over the land, which is here, without the city, but with the wide sweeping sky. Painted on the inside of the dome are evocations of the “tree of life” pattern, teaching-paintings.

In a restful moment the light changed, and a haze of beautiful crystalline royal-blue/bright-indigo came clear around me. I thought at first about spectrum, but slowly realized the light wasn’t coming from the sun. It was radiating out from me, and in the playful light against the shadow under the window I could see it. I laughed hey, it’s my aura!

In the evening Katie and Nick came over to visit and help me come back to earth and drive us to Gypsy Den for dinner. They brought me tangerines and dark kitten chocolate from Old World, and I brought out the big bottle of my favorite peach beer, which was unspeakably satisfying. Then we had vanilla soy chai on the patio, and adobe stew with spinach and olives and melted goat cheese, then home for another circle of beers and smokes and talk with DA and Kalli. All good trips end in feasts!

Beautiful Aftermath:
Beautiful aftermath

Last night I was up til nearly dawn playing music with DA.
Expect lovely recordings as we roll into fall.

Trip:
Origin:
1350–1400; 1960–65 for def. 12; ME trippen — to step lightly

–noun British Dialect.
a group of animals, as sheep, goats, or fowl; flock.
Origin:
1275–1325; ME; appar. special use of trip 1 in the sense of a group moving together, hence gang, flock

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~ by Arrrow Marie on August 25, 2009.

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