Imbolc has passed, which means we're on the lee-side of halfway to the Spring Equinox. I'm thankful for the sun the last three days, as thirty-plus degrees below freezing, when you walk everywhere you go, begins to feel a bit oppressive. Damn frustrating, actually. I used the weather as an excuse last night to buy a six pack of Winter Ale, and rent the Fellowship of the Ring trilogy. I had no legitimate reason to gorge on video, or beer, I just wanted to take a break from the questions.
Like, do flesh and bone ET's visit this planet, or are they, as Graham Hancock suggests, a modern perspective on an ancient reality, the shamanic interaction between parties of different dimensions, one as real as the other, only different? What does quantum physics tell us about space and time? Is Ayahuasca a doorway, and who are the Man in Jade and the Goddess in Gold? What is the knowledge possessed by the ancients, who built the Great Pyramid?
And how am I going to paddle down the Mississippi? How am I going to buy a sailboat when I reach the Gulf, and how am I going to learn to sail? And then how am I going to sail to Brazil? Maybe as far as the Pacific? Peru, 2012? How am I going to communicate, in Spanish, French and Portugese, once I've left the boundary of Empire? Where is the money going to come from?
Frodo wasn't always sure about his path either. There were times when he didn't want the ring, wishing it had never come to him. Gandalf was there to remind him, all men who live to see such times wish the same, that all we can do is decide what to do with the time one has. Central and South America isn't Mordor. No question I'm going to do it, but how?
I've started eating the potatoes I grew this year, in earnest. Baked a few pounds of potato wedges, dousing them with cholula and garlic salt for a little heat, at the beginning of The Two Towers, after a couple of beers. I love the Ents. I love these movies, though sometimes I think, the mythology is starting to look dated. We can't afford anymore to prop men up as kings, as messiahs, as rulers of any kind. It's incumbent upon every man and woman to find these same energies within. Coded, perhaps, in that "junk" 97% of our DNA we can't yet explain.
The potato is related to Datura, Mandrake, and several other powerful "hallucinogens". I hear they cultivate a few thousand different kinds of potatoes in the Andes, perhaps a thing taught by the same who built Tiahuanaco, at Titicaca, some twelve thousand years ago?
Off to the store, in the cold, on foot, for a few staples and probably a little junk. A film in Spanish tonight, another in Brazilian Portuguese. Two more beers, and more potatoes. I'm in training. I'm modeling the archetype of the green man consort to the Goddess, at Patrick's Cabaret in five weeks. I don't at present look the part of any consort to any goddess, though I expect to be ready. After all, who's going to have a point of reference?
It's supposed to be thirty-five degrees or higher this weekend. I long to get on my bike again and enjoy it. I see friends on Facebook talking about vacations to warm places. There's no money for travelling anymore this winter. Next winter? How about a sailboat, exploring the Atlantic coast of South America, looking for a shaman?