|
VAN GOGH TRIP by Shaktima Brien
Your visualization puts you in an energy alignment with the life experiences that will, over time, allow you to become more and more in tune
with that on which you focus. -Carol Bridges, The Medicine Woman Inner Guidebook
Lou offers a ride in her old MG. I accept. Lou is a great teacher; it is good to spend time with her.
As we exit the Freeway 10, she explains that Desert Hot Springs is a Native-American land, a place of power. Can you feel its spirit?
We enter the grounds of Two Bunch Palms, a secluded hideaway, known among movie stars and Hollywood producers.
Searching for our villa, we pass an oasis-pool, surrounded by palm trees, exotic plants and white plumerias. The San Jacinto and San Gorgonio
snow peaks in the background look the same than those on images hanging in my LA studio, and make me dream all year long.
We jump into our bikinis, heading for a mud bath, and an eucalyptus massage at the spa. We soak in a one hundred twenty degrees pool filled
with rose petals.
A nearby couple is whispering soft words. The guy reminds me of Justin, so and I turn my focus away.
Birds and butterflies are fluttering on the promontory. The sun is setting over the Coachella Valley. The landscape appears a twin to Van
Gogh’s paintings in Arles.
"I can see how Van Gogh was seeing, when he was painting," I say.
"You have to paint then," Lou says.
At midnight, we borrow a path of sage. Luminous flies and crickets are communicating their joie de vivre.
"I realize that Cinderella and Prince Charming fantasy story keeps me in an immature emotional state," I say.
Lou chuckles.
"It’s not your fantasy that’s bad. It’s your expectation that someone will love you better than you love yourself; that's the
illusion!"
"I dream that a nice man will come, and sweep me off my feet," I say.
"Your primary relationship is with you. You are the only person you’ll have a relationship with for the rest of your life. You better
start being your best friend and lover," Lou says.
She picks some sage, rubs it between her fingers, and offers its fragrance. It smell makes me vanish into a sea of trees.
"You’re a good witch, Lou!"
***
On the paddle tennis court the day after, I hear that Al, an urban shaman from Berkeley, is ending a set. On the wooden bench, I wait for my
turn to play.
"Want to play?" he asks, out of the blue green forest of my imagination.
I join him on the court.
"Want to go to a movie? Go around the world?”
We laugh.
Al is The Fool Lou saw in my Tarot cards reading this morning.
Al and I play a fair game. When it is over, I invite him to the villa.
"Lou, this is Al. Al, this is Lou."
Lou looks at Al, and turns up a card. She shows him The Fool.
"You recognize this one?"
"Yah!"
"He wants to go around the world," I say.
"Free spirit, huh?"
Lou looks at me. "You got what you wished for, don’t you?"
"Isn’t it too fast,” I protest weakly.
"How long do you want to wait to live your life? You have something better to do?"
I put a backpack together, and follow Al. He opens the trunk of his car, and points at pants, shirts, sweaters, sleeping bag and
guitar.
"These are all my possessions," he says.
I throw my pack over his stuff, and we are ready to go.
***
In silence, we drive off Dillon Road to the wilderness of Joshua Tree.
After a couple of hours, we find the perfect secluded place, where we create a circle of stones, and burn sage on a fire pit.
"That will keep snakes and spiders away," Al says.
I make tea. Al opens a pouch, and takes out mushroom caps.
"Psilocybin," he says. "I was keeping them for a special occasion."
He gives me one, and I chew.
"Let’s dream the same dream!"
He scratches his guitar, improvising a song that speaks of love at light speed. An eagle screams in the night. The fire intensifies. I start
to dance.
"I feel great!" I say.
"I feel vulnerable," he says. "I am afraid to not meet your expectations. I am afraid to loose you or my erection, if we make
love. I am angry for being dependent of you already. I hate you for all the women, who hurt me before."
I center myself, drawing strength from the surrounding boulders. I call on the Great Mother.
Al walks in circles, shouting, and bad tripping.
"Bitch! I hate you for the humiliations you put me through!"
"You know who you are talking to?" I ask, keeping poised.
Al pees in the fire.
"To my mother! She fucked me up! And my father too!"
I move Chi energy, blowing the cloud away.
"That’s probably why we met," I say, "to transform anger into creative energy."
Excerpt from Psyched, a novel coming soon.
Shaktima Brien is an artist and a writer coming from LA, living in Desert Hot Springs since ten years. She is a member of The Palm Springs Art
Museum Artists Council, and exhibits locally. Her novel/memoirs “Psyched” is coming out in 2008, as well as an exhibition of local artists’ portraits. http://shaktimabrien.blogspot.com/
|
