Mushroom Voices Chapter 1-10

Mushroom Voices
Jasper Grass Monkey

Introduction:

Did Jesus and other prophets have voices in their heads? I suppose we can’t asked them, and we could argue back and forth about divinity, atheism, philosophy, psychology, mythology and on and on… but what about entheogens. Entheogen is a word created in 1979 to describe natural or chemical substances which induce a mystical experience. Taken from the word “Theo” which is Greek, the word ‘Entheogen’ literally means ‘becoming God’. The word psychedelic literally translates into ‘mind or conscious awareness’. This is a true story, an actual experience I had on the Big Island of Hawaii. Since this time I have learned that excessive dopamine receptors in the brain are known to cause auditory hallucinations, but cosmically speaking, perhaps dopamine is like a mystical telephone and when its levels are shifted through meditation or entheogens the human mind is able to contact beings from another dimension. Whatever the true answer is, here is the story of how I came to know Gabriel the Arch-angel… a dear friend whose company I miss.

Voices Chapter 1… Break up

April 2001. I had just gotten off the phone with her, and it was all over... I couldn't understand why I was crying; I mean after all, it was I who couldn't say what she so desperately needed to hear. The thing was, as I looked deep within myself, I really didn't know what love was. I thought I had loved her first couple of weeks, but that puppy love went away, and I could no longer tell her that I loved her. She was sure I did, and it was okay at first, but now, she realized she needed to hear it from me... or else. I was 21 and it had been my first relationship. She was the first to give me a pet name in affection, calling me Bear, and I called her Shroomie or Shroom Boomio instead of baby or honey. Although it was only 9 months, I had gone through all the emotions, all the strings had been attached, and when they came undone, I felt lost, confused and almost surreal as if everything around me was simply surroundings, like a picture in a book, but I was the writing... the story was me, and the plot didn't know where to go from here.
I went up to the Pahoa baseball diamond dugouts and started to write my feeling down in my journal, as tears streamed down my cheeks and my breathing was sweet, moist and deep... then, the strangest thing happened. My pen, of its own accord, slid down the page, as if my hand was drawn magnetically, I could have fought the sensation and pulled against this invisible tugging, but I was curious and a bit excited to see what was going on. Suddenly, I wasn't really there anymore. I saw a rush of water and heard the voice of my sister calling for help. It was so real, but happened in mere seconds, and then disappeared, leaving me wide eyed and fascinated, looking around internally and asking what (being?) was doing this. I received no answer, and soon decided to walk back down the stairs and back into Pahoa. It was Sunday, and as usual, I decided to hitch hike a ride down to Kehena Beach for the Drum Circle. One of my friends was already sitting on the guard rail on the Keau-Kalapana highway next to the Pahoa Daggers High school, and I smiled and walked up. Almost immediately, someone pulled over and we got our ride, the whole 16 miles down to the beach. In the car, that strange sensation started to happen again, that magnetic like invisible pulling, but this time, it lifted my arms up from my sides. I was a bit embarrassed, and forced my hands to my side, and my friend gave me a curious look, wondering what was happening. I just shrugged and looked back out the window as inside I felt big waves of emotion.
We got out on the Red Road above the beach where all the cars were parked, but I decided not to go down to the beach just then, I wanted to be alone to see what would happen and felt the presence of something, yes, something strange was going on, and I was sure I was going to get to the bottom of it. I walked off the road to the jungle trees above the beach where no one could see me, I almost felt something guiding, an invisible external force like a hand on my back, but no, it was actually pulling me forward. Once I was in the trees, my arms began to lift again, this time completely up, and all of a sudden my back arched and I realized I was in the formation of Jesus on the Cross. Suddenly, like a fog or ethereal blanket lifted, and I saw the same water again, and shot back in time, it was like I was in two places at once. One part of me was being whipped, and all I could see was a purple cloth and felt my body being shredded like hamburger, but each time I was whipped it felt so utterly blissful, no pain at all, more like a feeling of thankfulness, humility, but my heart began to soar with such an ecstasy. Another part of me was 12 years old down on the Russian River where I actually had gone on vacation with my dad and my 10 year old sister, Shiloh, above San Francisco. It was a time when Shiloh had fallen off a small waterfall, and I dove in to save her. I felt this voiceless conformation that I was okay... no, that's not the word; I was SAVED, in everyway. I had risked my life, and in that moment of saving my little sister I had died, in some sort of way, was willing to trade my life for hers, and this was related to Jesus somehow. This experience happened in only a minute. Physically I was standing there with my arms outstretched, my back arched with hot tears of joy streaming down my face. When it was over, I took out my pen, and began to write... but, it wasn't my mind, or my penmanship, it was someone else inside me, some other person's perspective. I was still individually myself, but felt this other person writing. For about an hour or so I sat in the bushes and felt entities come in and out of my mouth, I couldn't hear them talking, but felt them... they'd all write little encouragements for me, some said they'd been watching me for a long time now, and others would began to mock me, and just as I felt their rage or disgust for me, they would be "kicked out" or expelled, as if some other greater spirit was censoring who could come in and out. I must tell you, I began to wonder what the significance of it all was. And to think... I hadn't even so much as taken a toke, was completely sober... except for that break up on the phone. What was going on?

Voices Chapter 2… Drowning at Kehena

I crouched in the bushes writing, completely enthralled by the sensations I was feeling, I felt like a puppet of some sort, and tried to mentally deflect my ego that was swelling at the idea of being a prophet. Everyone who entered into me, wrote with my hand and had a message too me. Most were a little bit patronizing, but all wished me luck and said that I had an important task ahead of me. I wrote until my hand cramped up, and then just closed my journal and tried to breathe and calm myself down. I felt an invisible force nudging me to get up, and surrendered to it. I wasn't surprised to find that both my feet had fallen asleep and now tingled with pain as I stiffly walked out of the bushes on the cliffs over Kehena Beach.
I decided to walk down the cliffs, but could hardly tell if it was my decision anymore as this invisible force, like the positive end of a magnet pushing another positive ended magnet away. It seemed a bit precarious to walk down the cliff, and I was glad that this force didn't cause me to fall. When I got to the bottom, I had a mental image of the girl a moment before I saw her. She must have been five or six years old, blond and was wearing a red bathing suit. She stuck out and seemed more vibrantly outlined than anything else on the beach. Another mental image came, in this one, the same girl got too close to the crashing surf, and was swept away. The vision only lasted a second or less, but I was shocked at how real it seemed. I was even more shocked at my emotional state. It was like waking up from a nightmare screaming, feeling more terrified than an actual event where the rational mind has any say in the matter.
I didn't know exactly what to do, so I just sat down under a coconut tree and watched the little girl like a life guard. I got out my journal once more, and the pen wrote in big bold letters, IT'S ALMOST TIME. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I knew what was going to happen. This little girl would be swept out to sea and I would save her, but in the process, I myself would drown. As I fully processed this, a strange peace swept over me.
The drums were playing, and Rasta Randy was standing there like some sort of chief, sipping on a can of Coors beer. Normally I would have gotten up and drummed myself, or gone over to where my friends were sitting, but now all this seemed absurd. All these surroundings were like the background, and none of it seemed real. I thought about writing in my journal, but somehow couldn't. My mind felt so at peace, I just couldn't put words to my feelings. I did cry a bit when I thought about my family and how my friends would react… but if they only knew I was watching them from Paradise. So many emotions were flooding through me, and I looked around at everyone and felt love. I mentally thanked them all for being here, on this, my last day on earth.
She was gone. I had been caught up in my own emotions, and with a start, realized the little girl in the red bathing suit was no longer playing near the shore. Had I missed it?—oh I was so stupid, how could I have let this happen? I checked, looking hard at the waves, but only saw the familiar body-boarders riding the crashing surf line. I jumped up and looked around, and then out of the corner of my eye, I saw her holding her mom's hand as she went up the cliff trail.
I watched, stupefied, until they were out of site, and then a feeling of disgust crossed over me. Who did I think I was? I looked around at what had once been my last day and the beach dwellers that sat lazily on the sand or played instruments of various kinds. Coconut King was splitting apart coconuts and handing them out with a cackle to a few people. The gay side of the beach was filled with tanned butts pointing in the air. It was too much for me to handle, I had to get out of there.
I got to my feet with a frown, silently cursing myself for believing in—but what was going on? The writing, the visions… had it all been some sort of psychological happening due to stress, or some sort of … whatever? I just couldn't believe that! My arms had been lifted by some unseen force—I had to get out of there. I climbed the cliff swiftly, stubbing my toe once, but not hard enough to make it bleed. I actually welcomed the sobering feeling of pain in my body, and the deep breathes I had to take as I moved quickly to the red road. Once there, I just started to walk.
Soon the anger and disgust left, and the same feeling in my heart replaced it; the feeling I had when I got off the phone with my girlfriend, well, ex-girlfriend now. This hideous empty feeling that throbbed, but walking felt good. I walked to Sea View without sticking out my thumb, and decided I would walk all the way to Mackenzie Park to spend the night. The sky had a few Mario Bros. clouds that billowed and seemed to hover just a couple hundred feet above the blue ocean. The air was warm, but a slight breeze made it a perfect temperature to walk. My pack was light; only a sleeping bag, tarp and some paraphernalia was inside.
The sun was drifting across the Volcano, causing the clouds to be outlined with a yellow tint that would soon turn to pink, then a majestic purple as the first stars would appear. I felt once again like a solitary pilgrim, lost and alone, when the gray van pulled over. I knew this van very well, and smiled as I ran up to it. I pulled it open and smiled seeing nearly all my close friends, travelers like me who had come to Hawaii for the first time. Brother Eewok greeted me with his toothless grin and smokers cackle. There was Gingko, Hatti, Paul, Ora, Shon, Niko, Anthony and a few other hippie kids on the van floor. Beads were dangled down behind the driver and passenger seat in a gypsy like manner. This was a gypsy crew after all, and I felt relieved to be rescued by them in the Family Van.
The ride only took us a couple miles down the road to an old concrete type of shelter, five stories tall and without any walls. It was nestled in the jungle, a half mile away from any neighbor, and bordered the south end of Mackenzie Park. It really looked like the Ruins from the cartoon Jungle Book where King Louie lived as the jungles V.I.P, so it was known by everyone as "The Monkey Temple".
Amberay was a girl my age that had been on the Island some time before I got there, and had recently invited her Pops to come out to see it. Pops arrived with a whole group from the mainland, all musicians and artist types who came and camped out in Mackenzie Park for a while, but now I found that they had infested the Monkey Temple. I wasn't too sure what to think about Pops, but all my friends talked of him as if he were, well… Pops. He had white hair that frizzed out like Albert Einstein, and sat in half lotus, constantly lighting bowl after bowl of bud, and passing it to whoever was with him. (Just toked in his honor) Since I didn't really know him, I sometimes went over and sat next to his little Posse of Punatics, and would listen to his crazy stories in this mesmerizing Texas accent, but would often only be able to take a hit two or three times as the pipe was passed.
Ah yes, let's reflect on the image of that white marble pipe. Like the cloud gods phallus. The mouth piece had a gaping hole, the size of a penny, more like a chimney the way smoke would rush through which made the pipe hit like a champ. The bowl must have been two or three inches wide, and as big as Bruce Lee's fist, and the punch of the smoke… whew! I'm telling ya, these guys would sit around and toke bowl after bowl, and after Pops would take a hit, he would cough so loud I thought he would puke out his lungs. The Posse who were watching would start to laugh at this big Buddha bellied man with his junk hanging out of his shorts telling his stories that all seemed to clarify his main point—Pops is the King of not giving a fuck. And that's what makes him Pops. Well I guess the real reason was because Amberay introduced him as Pops, but he was Pops long before Hawaii, to a different crowd of kids down on the Columbia River. What does someone do when $30,000 is shoved in their pocket with an apology note from the System that has been injecting them with tranquilizers? Happens rarely, but if the person truly doesn't give a fuck, what happens with the cash? Twernt nuttin to Pops! He through a party for two months, and spent most of it, but when everything got out of control, he flew away with the people he'd been partying with… Bon Voyage, off to Hawaii… and the party continued.
The Monkey Temple was a new party location, and that billowing phallic pipe was soon being passed as we got out of the van and made our way upstairs. There was a free flow guitar session, and everyone was flowing with lyrics, either poetry or stories, and Shon sang about 'McDonalds being Satan, or Satan don't exist'… and Hatti had a country twang to her songs, and Twenty Fingers Daragan would play lead guitar. It eased my mind, and I knew I was with kindred spirits. Gingko and I would wander over to the drums and start the San Francisco beat.
And to think, I was going to go jump into the ocean a moment ago… That morning I had waken up in a cave after a nightmare, going to the phone, saying goodbye forever to a lost love, then trying to die for someone I didn't know, then alone and destitute. As the guitars played, I said my free flow verses about how crazy life was. The sun had now completely set, and we were all there around the candle light. There was a kerosene lamp in the kitchen, and people would wander down there and eat when they got the munchies. Everyone got 212 food stamps on there EBT cards every month, no one had time or interest in work, but it seemed like the Aloha life was taking only what you needed, and 212 food stamps was enough to share, so we all ate good, and life was fine. No reason to jump in the ocean and drown. But I still wondered how I would act if I picked up a pen. Would that invisible force control my hand? I hadn't felt so much as a nudge since I saw the girl in the red bathing suit walk away to safety with her mother. I'd see about writing in the morning, tonight I was with family.
Even though I smoked, I had trained myself to eat only fruit when I had the munchies. I ate a little papaya mixed with oats and raisins, and considered mixing in the peanut butter, but than thought against the idea of the morning bathroom run… besides, I knew that if I busted out the peanut butter, I wouldn't be able to put it away, and would want to add honey, and soon would go on a rampage for granola or anything else that would mix in. I did want some coconut juice, but didn't know how to climb a coconut tree to get one.
I fell asleep before the party broke up because people were all just sitting around with their eyes half open, and I just gave in to the heaviness in my own eyelids and went to go get my sleeping bag. I slept on the bottom floor by the kitchen, just a little bit away from the edge of the floor and had to move inside more as rain cascaded down, creating a mist like near boulders around the base of a waterfall. It was somehow comforting to hear the sound of heavy rain, snuggling nice and dry a couple feet away from it as it came down, made me thankful to be warm and safe in a house of friends… what a day!

Voices Chapter 3… Manna

It was Hatti and Gingko who woke me up the next morning and invited me to join them on an adventure. They said there was a cow field just two miles up the road on Opihikau. They seemed so excited, but I didn't see how a cow pasture could be the cause of such enthusiasm. I wondered if they planned on feeding the cows, when Hatti informed me, "You know it rained last night Jasper, that means there is going to be a shit load of shrooms, and literally a shit load… you ever been shroom picking?"
I told them I had tried to find blue ringer mushrooms on my high school football field, but was unsuccessful. There had been about few times when I had either drank mushroom tea, or eaten the dry leathery kind. Every time had been wonderful, but I had never been shroom picking in a cow pasture.
No one else wanted to go on the trip, but apparently we had to hurry out the door and skip breakfast because if the sun came out, it would turn the mushrooms into a black ooze.
Exodus 16:14 And when the dew that lay was gone up, behold, upon the face of the wilderness there lay a small round thing. 16:15 And when the children of Israel saw it, they said one to another, It is manna. 16:21 And they gathered it every morning, every man according to his eating: and when the sun waxed hot, it melted.
So without knowing it, we hurried off early that morning to collect manna. It was a misty morning and it didn't look like the sun would "wax hot", so we weren't to worried about the mushrooms melting.
It was such a beautiful road to walk on. Coconut, avocado, mango, and guava trees were on either side of the road with vines wrapping around everything. Only occasionally a car would pass, but other than that, we didn't see anyone, and could walk comfortably down the center of the red road. We turned up Opihikau and walked up the hill, passing Puna shacks with their rusted aluminum roofing and screened in walls. For the most part, the road didn't have many houses along it, and not a single car passed us for the 20 minutes we walked. After a small papaya farm, a great pasture opened the horizon, and we could see all the way down to the ocean.
We ducked in between the loose barbed wire fence; each of us had a paper cup to collect the mushrooms in. The cows must have been grazing in a different pasture, and only red jays and other chirping birds swooped the air, landing in the guava trees that lined the fence.
"Be sure to only pick the shrooms out of the cow shit, because although the other ones might look the same, they might be poisonous." Hatti seemed to know a bit about this type of thing, and I didn't question her knowledge, but it did seem a little gross to pick the shrooms right out of the cow pies.
Ezekiel 4:15 The Lord said, Lo, I have given thee cow's dung instead of man's dung, and thou shalt prepare thy bread therewith. Moreover he said unto me, Son of man, behold, I will break the staff of bread in Jerusalem: and they shall eat bread by weight and with care, and with astonishment.…
We walked around the pasture in different directions, picking the little mushrooms, some as small as a thumb tack, some with caps the size of the bottom of a coffee mug. We tried to be quiet, with rumors of the land owner chasing people off his land with a shotgun, but it was hard to keep to whispering as we came across cow pies with a dozen or more little fun-guys.
"Holy Shit, you gotta come see this," Gingko would yell, and we'd run over. Sure enough, it did seem to be holy shit. The mushrooms in our cups turned from a light brown or white to blue when bruised, so we decided to eat the perfect looking mushrooms as we grazed. It only took an hour or so before our three cups were filled. We were all beginning to joke about the truth of Bart Simpson as he exclaimed, "Holy Cow." There were so many puns. It was amazing how vivid everything was becoming; it looked like everything was so defined and crystal clear. Waves of giddiness would wash over me, and I would giggle in spurts.
"Hey Jasper, I picked this mushroom just for you," Gingko said, and handed me a perfect white mushroom with blue veins the size of my palm.
"Thanks Gingko, because I picked this one just for you," I exclaimed, picking out one of my finest specimens. We all exchanged two or three of our finest pickings and then made a plan for distributing them at the Monkey Temple. We knew we had enough for everyone to be feeling as good as we were, but came up with a way to make everyone feel special. I think it was Gingko, who had a really big heart and was always making hemp jewelry and other gifts for her friends. We decided we would announce to everyone that we didn't find any, but then, one by one, give little handfuls to each one of our friends and tell them that we only found a little, and wanted them to have them.
As we made our way back down the hill to the Monkey Temple, we couldn't make eye contact without falling into a fit of laughter. Our pupils were like the Power Puff girls, and it felt to me as if we all must be floating. I had taken off my Tivas to feel the pavement which gave my feet a massage at every step. Each breath felt so delightful, and I ended up doing cartwheels and running as fast as I could back and forth, feeling more exhilarated than I could remember.
As we got near the Monkey Temple, it was apparent that the party had already been started. Somehow the time had just flown by, and it was already afternoon. There were a couple more vehicles in the driveway, and we wondered if we had enough mushrooms for everyone, but decided we'd first share them with Pops' crew first. As it turned out, almost everyone in the party had been dosed on L.S.D. and no one wanted the mushrooms. I could hardly believe it. As I went up to a couple of my friends, they told me that they were all set, but that I could eat their share. I was already feeling so alive, but decided I just couldn't let these precious gifts go to waste. After trying unsuccessfully to hand them out, I ended up finishing my entire cup. A moment later, Gingko and Hatti told me that no one wanted any, and they had already eaten as much as they could handle.
It seemed there was a job to do, and I was the one to do it. And without a second thought, I mixed a little bit of honey in with the shrooms and gobbled down the rest. I suppose I didn't take heed of the Lord as he cautioned to, "eat the bread by weight and with care" but at the time, it seemed sacrilegious to just toss the meal out. Besides, I hadn't eaten anything else but a couple guavas in the cow pasture, and felt a bit hungry.

Voices Chapter 4... The Babe with the Power

Yummm, er fuzzzz... (tickling the inside of my cheek, oohh the mind flubs and whispering as my jaw contracts and I yawn teary eyed.. light up a smoke... half smoked by someone else). The party in the Monkey Temple was mixing with my emotions, like a family, like some sort of answer to a prayer manifested inside. That day I had woke up with a mission, and to think what had happened a day before.
Before the break-up on the phone, she had been in my dream. I had decided to spend the night down in the Lava Tube. I took down a couple of candles into the opening in the ground. Mackenzie park was obviously magical, and the whistling and whispering of the salty ocean breeze, all shaded with a Dr. Seuss like whirling canopy of Iron wood trees, green against a Microsoft blue kind of sky, but there was nothing digital about it, accept for the sound of waves, crashing on the 15 foot lava cliffs right outside the park. The forest floor was a rusty orangish red, and soft enough to walk on, if you could endure the marble sized pine cones... Too me they were like a foot massage, but if you were going to run and jump and play, you had to know that a bloody toe would jolt you out of your frolicking. It happened so much that people who went around in Local Slippahs, da kine foot wear in 2001, but I preferred the Tivas. Anyways, the drips of the cave only came if it rained hard, and it had been dry for a couple of days, although it was moist, and to warm to sleep in anything but a sheet, and even that clung. I hadn't anticipated the thumb size cockroaches, little blood red nuclear fall out survivors that would crawl with an echoing scuttle. I slept hardly at all, but late at night when I did fall asleep I had seen her with somebody else. I could only picture fragments of the nightmare as I awoke, but the gut wrenching panic I felt was as if it really happened. She had been the psychic one in our relationship, able to guess exactly what was going on in my head, but that morning, as I scrambled out of the stifling darkness, I had to call her, and confirm what I already knew.
After break up on the phone, there was the channeling up in the bushes of Kehena beach. Then there was the let down when I found my mission to save the girl in the red bathing suit was an illusion. But it all seemed over now. I was with friends and had a sense of a belonging. But of course, it was far from over.
So there I was after eating enough mushrooms to dose the whole party, picking up a half smoked cigarette with such spiritual heartfelt sincere thankfulness to God for giving me fellowship with such friends. I lifted the cigarette (American Spirit wrapped in a Rizla) and almost with a tear of compunction, lit it as incense—as a sacrament, and inhaled. Suddenly I giggled at the harshness of the smoke but grimaced at the taste... I was overcome with amusement at my own biological disgust but curiosity at the cigarette, and decided, no, it wasn't bad... it just wasn't for me. I was beginning to feel ancient, but all that did was make me feel more clear, with thousands of unique perspectives, I decided to give the little strange magic tobacco to Ora, a blond girl who had arrived with the Pops Crew and was dancing in Fairy Wings. I leaned over with a pleading look in my eye, feeling Cartoon and extended the insane smoking sacrament, although it was this time almost burnt more than half way, and Ora said the words that changed my life more than any words anyone ever has said to me, "Oh I'm sorry, is that how big it is?"

Voices Chapter 5... The Red Pill

Everything stopped. Someone had just pushed pause... the expression on Ora's face, the dancers in the room, the people and their gestures... It was completely silent and frozen in place. I was also frozen, but able to see everything in the room in crystal clarity at once. It only lasted for about two seconds and then the music continued, and this immense wave of complete and utter embarrassment filled me. I stood there like a deer in the light of a train coming at me, frozen in a terror that I had never felt before... a deer on a bridge over Niagara Falls in the barrels of my skull. I dropped my eyes, but I knew every inch of me was completely exposed to be profoundly humiliated. The mushrooms, enough for fifteen people, to be laughing uncontrollably—now everything that existed was laughing at me. The world the universe was rolling on its back taunting me, who was standing there Naked in a freak show. And Ora was the Archetype of all women. Ora, who was about ten years older than me and known for getting sensual with plenty of men. Oh she knew men, and knew when a man was a boy. And I was just a little silly boy pretending. I must have turned as red as the blood that was rushing through my cheeks as a wide grin spread across my lips. I tried to think quickly, and come up with a clever response, but I couldn't. I was confused and felt like floating away some place far, far from the Monkey Temple—some place where I wasn't exposed. I spun around and walked down the stairs, in a daze, to the first floor of the Temple in the Kitchen.
I sat at the table and then wondered what had happened. No more laughing or dancing and prancing. My body felt like led, and every particle in me was screaming. I sat down for only a couple of minutes and closed my eyes. People were still rushing here and there around me, but I was locked inside my mind traveling to happier times.
It was almost in a state of meditation, and time could have been floating by in minutes, or in seconds, I wasn't part of conventional time anymore. When I opened my eyes and looked up, I saw Anthony, and his knew girlfriend Mikie sitting across from me. Anthony was a nomad type of traveler, five years older than I was, hadn't cut his beard in two years. He had been in some sort of alcoholic funk, and had worn the same green Umbra soccer shirt since I had arrived four months earlier. He never was shy to say exactly what he thought in a matter-of-fact kind of way, very down to earth and practical. If anyone disagreed or felt like arguing their own point of view, Anthony wasn't interested in drama, and would shrug his shoulders apathetically, and look in there face with boredom in his eyes. He had seen it all from buffalo herders in Africa, to Baba's smoking chillums in India, to mad Spartans in Greece. He had felt lost for a long time, but when Mickie arrived, he changed out of his green soccer jersey and into a bright blue shirt. He even showered, but kept his thick Middle Eastern beard.
As I looked in Anthony's eyes, I saw a look of concern and sympathy; an expression I had never seen on his face before. "Sticks and stones, right man?" Anthony said with a pleading tone for me to catch his drift. I smiled weakly, and it was obviously superficial with pain beneath my eyes reflecting the agony I felt in my soul. How could I respond? All my defenses were down, the mushrooms brought my truth to the surface of my being. Then I wondered, how did Anthony even know what Ora had said? Who else knew—everyone? Did it matter anymore—did anything matter?
"Well Grass you know," Anthony paused searching for the words, "I know I'm, well… sensitive about…" before he finished, Mickie warmly embraced him. The two love birds smiled, forgetting me for the moment, looking into each others eyes. When they both looked back at me, I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I knew I was beyond being reached by any empathetic comfort, far from any sort of comfort right then. If I hadn't been on the mushrooms, that were steadily increasing in their psychedelic effect, I might be able to pull myself together and respond somehow.
I just wanted to go back in time somehow and undo what had been done—what had been said. If only I would have kept walking to Mackenzie park yesterday and ignored the gray van. I opened my eyes once more, and saw most of the people at the party had come down stairs and were now looking at me with sympathetic eyes. However, when I tried to make reassuring eye contact with them, they'd turn away, as if ashamed somehow. I felt as if I must somehow be telepathically communicating, was it the mushrooms?—I felt sure that everyone knew, and that I was somehow controlling this psychedelic trip. Everyone was either on LSD or who knows what else, everyone was fidgeting uncomfortably, so obviously exposed in their thoughts as I was.
Ora came down stairs for a moment, I only noticed her out of the corner of my eye. She was pacing with determined steps, while everyone else was sort of floating awkwardly nearby. She made a move in my direction, then abruptly stopped, shrugged her shoulders and said, "Fuck it, I don't even want to go there." She walked back up the stairs, and a couple people followed. The music was still playing, but I could hear them talking.
I couldn't stand anymore. How could she have said such a thing? But more importantly, how did she know. With a realization, I knew it must be my bathing suit, my board shorts. They have Velcro over the crotch, to mask any penis print, but not when sitting down. Oh fuck it. It was all over now. And just as I was beginning to peak on my psychedelic trip up mushroom mountain, people from the party, all part of Pops Camp, some of my closest friends came down one by one, and to my dread, added to my humiliation... to the annihilation of my Ego.
Gingko and Hatti came down and with there look, I knew that they had somehow heard. How? The music had been blasting, how could they have heard? How could the All have heard?
Hatti said, "Jasper..." then she just sort of laughed, and Gingko elbowed her to stop, but they just looked at me and then looked to the floor, whispering to each other and walked back up the stairs. I could hear people talking, and although the music was blaring and they were upstairs. I could just feel them all talking about Ora's comment. I was taking shallow breathes trying to be small, but my heart beat like an enormous drum in my ears. I wanted to stop this—to shout out that I was okay, and for everyone to get out of my head trip. The kerosene lamp flickered, but the light kept changing colors and the shadows crawled through the room and up the side of the stair case. I realized that sitting there wasn't going to make it stop—I had to get out of there… NOW!
I got up and walked out into the blackness of the moonless night. The driveway to the Red Road from the Monkey Temple is rocky, and most of the times, even in the light, people are sure to watch the ground carefully as they walk. This night I was barefoot and floated down the driveway quite quickly somehow, but without so much as scratching my foot on the craggy edges of the lava.
Once down the driveway which is about the size of a gas station parking lot, I stepped out into the traffic free windy warm night in my board shorts and t-shirt. The coconut trees were blowing in a way that always makes me wonder why the roots don't rip out of the ground. I had no body as I floated down the road toward Mackenzie Park. I would just creep down in my cave and never come up. Was this really the end of it all, or should I just go back to the party. Then I realized, I didn't have a flashlight, and wouldn't be able to make it through Mackenzie to the cave. With dread, I realized my flashlight was nestled in my pack in the Monkey Temple.
I stopped. All the anxiety and humiliation turned into intensity and gathered itself up inside myself to form a voice—a voice of clarity that really got to the crux of this predicament. I sat in the middle of the road and closed my eyes, and was had unwavering determination to sit there and figure it out—no that wasn't it. I felt boldness and courage arising within myself, and decided I had a question—a question directed to the Source of this mess.
Through my life, I had been thrown out of everything that started to make sense. When I decided to completely surrender, and become a monk, I was thrown out once again. It was my time to challenge Him who brought me into this world. Out of two million sperm, He decided I would reach the egg. Why? I was now going to have a talk with Him and He would have no choice but to answer me. No more prayer and humble pleading—this had gone too far! If He wouldn't accept me as a monk, where did He expect me to go? No. No more of this charade.
"I do not accept this existence!" I looked to the heavens with conviction. "This cannot be—this is not. All of it! An illusion—the Matrix, and I will not play anymore." I not only said this with my voice, it felt like my whole being vibrated with the words. But, unlike the Matrix, the world around me wasn't revealed in a digital code of 1's and 0's. Everything around did began to shimmer and shine. It was as if I had thrown a rock into calm water and the ripples moved up and down over everything. The coconut trees, the road, and the air itself began to disintegrate and fractal into pieces. And not only the world around me, I felt myself began to fade, or more accurately, being ripped apart at the molecular level, as if a black hole had descended upon me, and was splitting the atoms in my body—but more than that, something inside me, like an emotion, but more like my soul felt torched with an unseen fire.
I realized my mistake. I had opened the gates of hell upon myself, and the Devil was ushering me deeper and deeper into the place of rebellion. All time was swallowed and I could see the black shadows, like the demons on the movie "Ghost", in the air around me, torturing and prodding me. If I wanted out, God was showing me the Exit door to this Matrix. Apparently, the Red Pill wasn't swallowed so easily.
Voices Chapter 6... A Joke
I began to sweat and crumpled into a ball on the pavement, my head exploding and I grunted unable to scream out, but in my mind said "Not this way--no, NO!" The tearing and ripping ceased as quickly as it had come, and I inhaled sweet ocean air. Every hair on my body was on end and I felt tingly, confused, but not in the least bit disoriented or curious to what had happened. I knew that I was able to communicate with my Creator now, and I sobbed as tears filled my eyes, feeling desperate and so lost. I couldn't understand what was going on and I asked in a defeated whisper looking up once more, "then what am I?"
I heard a laugh. It was a big booming laugh from the sky, but in my head, it was a voice, and not mine, "HA, HA, HA", It boomed, "You're a JOKE (laughing) and if you don't like it, you can jump off the cliff and die, and burn in Hell!" The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
I walked past the shrine and tombstone that was ironically placed next to me on the cliff edge and looked down thirty feet to wear big waves crashed against jagged boulders. I smirked thought about it, and then shook my head and thought, 'no... I think that would hurt.' This time it was like a room full of people laughed at me, each with a distinct laugh. One voice seemed overly amused and cried out, "Ah yah dip shit, of course you won't jump."
It was strange the way I felt at this time. I wasn't angry, mad, or anything negative. On the contrary, I felt refreshed, and somehow cleansed. But deep within me, it was as if my soul leaped with joy as it realized the mind had come to know of its nature. As if my soul could get through to my mind that it had chosen this body long before my existence in this world, and had desired to be A Joke. How else could I escape the pitfalls of pride?
I had read many stories about Saints, who had turned their backs on earthly pleasures, and chosen, or rather realized their calling as a Fool for Christ. I was to fulfill the Beatitudes in the Gospel: meek, humble, poor, merciful and all the rest of the righteous virtues. But who were these voices?
"Who are you?" was my reply by a different voice who then said, "Forget about it, why don't you just go back to the party? You take everything too seriously, but that's why we love you." Then I heard a tacky piece of music much like an evening sitcom when a little girl apologizes to her dad, and is forgiven.
I couldn't really argue, every time I began to question the origin of what I was hearing, a voice would interrupt me and say something like, "Ooooh, yeah, we're ghosts here to haunt you" in a sarcastic tone. Some would imitate boogie men, but were so amusing and funny; I just was caught to off guard. Just as I wondered if I was crazy, one voice answered, "Yep, you're nuts, over the coo coo's nest... no use pretending to be normal now... might as well, go back on in, whip it out and jerk off in their faces now." My jaw dropped and I laughed, but then covered my mouth and frowned. This was a sin, and I began to question who these voices really were. I wandered through the pitch black toward the tiki torch light through the woods and sat back down in the kitchen in the light of the kerosene. The colors still crept over the room, but that wasn't my only company.
Apparently everyone had been talking about me and what Ora had said might as well have been announced over a loud speaker. When they saw me, they all seemed startled. "Dude, Jasper, it looks like you're glowing." Hatti said.
I found that I couldn't speak. I just smiled, then stood up and gave her a hug. It must have been two in the morning, and as strange as the night had been it wasn't over yet. We heard a giggle coming up the driveway and then appeared Eseh in his orange pants walking into the room. How had he gotten here? Eseh was a kooky sort of guy who looked like Mouse on the Matrix, but had the wisdom of a clever coyote and would meditate much and sleep little. He would dumpster dive the seven eleven for donuts at 4:00am, and give them out to people in Pahoa in the mornings always laughing and joking, some times with parables and words of wisdom from every day occurrences. He greeted people with a laugh, but when he looked at me he said, "Well Grass, it looks like you learned something tonight?" He winked at me. It was then I found my voice.
I looked at him for a second, then around at the rest of the room at everyone who had turned their attention toward me and said in a bold voice, "It's all relative to the size of the Penis." Yes, this whole shazam... it's no wonder they worship Shiva's Lingam. This whole Charade, stage, prank on me, when this is the punch line of reality. And Eseh looked at me with his blue eyes with one eye brow raised and replied, "Well of course it is." Then a second later, erupted in a giggling fit.

Voices Chapter 7…Push-ups and Sit-ups with Arch-Angel Gabriel

After Eseh had laughed, I felt he must have been tuned in to some sort of frequency. His tenor voice, full of humor and personality was almost like the voice that had called me 'dip shit' and told me to go back to the party. The way he laughed at me and my realization—no one else in the room was laughing, everyone seemed a little bit concerned, agreed I looked like I was glowing somehow, but Eseh slapped me on the back and laughed, looking around the room at everyone else expectantly as if they should join in. In a few minutes, I was no longer the center of attention, most people wandered back up stairs to party on, but I was done, even though sleep was the farthest thing from my mind, I considered laying out my sleeping bag in a dark corner somewhere. As I got up, I had the mushroom yawns which brought tears to my eyes. Over and over I yawned with my mouth open wide, and one of the voices started making fun of me. They didn't talk when I was with other people, sort of waiting politely to have me to themselves. "Open wide big guy, here comes the airplane" and I got a mental image of a baby in a high chair who was being spoon fed. I couldn't help but laugh, and once I started I couldn't stop. I laughed until my stomach ached and snot hung in two strands from my nostril. I wiped my nose and looked at the salty transparent snot, still convulsing and light headed with too much oxygen. A voice made a joke about the snot really being come, and I laughed even harder, it was like I was listening to the most hilarious stand up comic, tripping my brains out. Every color was so dramatic, and every object so distinctly outlined, and so much had happened, was happening, I must have laughed for ten minutes, all by myself in the shadows fumbling, trying to get my sleeping bag out of the pack, and once it was out, it seemed so ridiculous. Nylon? What is Nylon! This light weight synthetic thing… oh but it was so smooth. And then I realized I wasn't thinking this, it was a comic voice narrative.

"Looks like you're going to sleep on the concrete Dip Shit. Too cool to have a pad huh? I just shrugged at this comment, still yawning and looking at my cartoon kingdom. I got in my bag and lay there all snuggled up smiling. I didn't know up from down anymore, realizing that reality was 100% subjective. It rained hard that night, and because there was no walls on the Monkey Temple, ten feet away from me rain came down in torrents, which made me feel even more snuggled and thankful to be dry. I slipped off probably around 4:00am, with sighs of happiness.

It could only have been two hours later, maybe even less when I was rudely awakened. "Hey Dip Shit, come on get up; push ups and sit ups, come on, let's go, let's go!" At first I rolled over, as if it was an old friend saying the words to me, and I knew I had to get up—wait. No, this wasn't the case, and before I decided to roll over, my eyes bulged open. I figured that in all probability, no one could hear that "friend" but me.

"Wake up, come on that's it… eyes open, now push ups, sit ups, come on, now!" It was a guy voice, full of bravado and zest, but not overbearing like the drill sergeant off "Full Metal Jacket" it was more like the voice of one of the gutter punk guys I met in Hollywood. But I was so absolutely exhausted, I saw the first morning light, the kind where the morning star and a couple other bright stars are still visible, and only the horizon has that faint yellow, before the clouds turn pink, I never got up at this time, it was so cold still. I tried to convince myself that I was just waking up from a dream, and had dreamed of the voices, and waited for the dream to fade, but really rolled my eyes at a voice trying to convince me to get out of bed for push ups and sit ups, but then realized this voice was hardly what I'd consider to be a dream. It had that quality but was more real and defined as some other being. But I was pissed, I mean whoever they were, or who He or It, whether Alien or human spirit, I was determined to shut my eyes and go to sleep, but before I could even try the voice had an argument and made a significant point that I simply couldn't ignore.

"Come on man, I mean, try to figure it out buddy," the voice explained, this type it was a different voice though, a completely different entity, then I recognized it… this one had always called me dip shit, I kind of liked it, reminded me a bit of Eseh, but had a tone too it that was even more like a personal politician, but with a sense of realness to it, Let's just say, that at a later point, he claimed to be Gabriel the Arch Angel, he said, "you've always had the goal in the back of your head to wake up doing push ups and sit ups, and I know you think you're too tired to even think about it right now, I can understand you're point of view, Dip Shit, I mean, I get you, but you just gotta ask yourself, today, this morning, right now, Get Up. Trust me, you'll even thank me, just sit up, pull your bandana off your eyes, take three deep angry breaths, cuz I know you hate to listen to this, and are pissed as fuck… Well, use that anger… Push up and Sit ups!" Then as I sat up, this crazy cheer went off, like an arena, then some funky drum and bass mix started playing, and I felt like I was in some sort of crazy movie, I turned over and did 53 push ups, I know because this crazy comic announcers voice on some microphone while all the electronic funk was playing counted out the push ups, wouldn't let me stop at Fifty, but at 53 a bell rang, the music stopped, and so did I… I was breathing hard now, completely awake, but it was cool enough that I didn't sweat too much, as a matter of fact, the air was now the perfect temperature. I took some water, sort of smiling sheepishly as Gabriel encouraged me, taunted me saying, "See Dipshit, I told you… isn't the weather perfect right now," and my skin was tingling with energy, but I began to feel sleep in my eyes, and Gabriel asked, "Hey do you want music or not man, cuz you ain't done yet, it's time for some sit ups." I was at first going to question him, but he went on before I could really even think, answering the exact questions I'd sort of sort of silently mentally observe to myself, but it was interesting to hear someone say my thoughts in a different manner.

"See man, you just carry a pad man, I mean they're light weight, and you could do some sit-ups without hurting your back." But I spread out my sleeping bag and did sit ups, and this time some African drums were playing with whistles and all like a Samba, but with other beats too, nobody counted out my sit-ups, but I did them tell my stomach was on fire and starting to cramp bad…

"Now come on Dipshit, pack up your stuff, we got a big day ahead of us." I frowned, but this time answered back.

"Okay now," I said, "Who the fuck are you, I want some answers now…don't interrupt me, alright?" I listened and Gabriel was quiet, but remember, at this time, he hadn't introduced himself. We argued back and forth over him telling me who he was, he just evaded the question saying, "Does it really matter who I am, I mean come on so far, haven't I done everything you wanted to do, and besides, I can't tell you who I am, because then you'd tell everyone, and I don't want that."

"No man," I said shaking my head, "this isn't going to work out for you then, because I want to hear you say the name of Jesus." I was still a believer the in the Bible for the most part. It had only been three years since I had left the monastery, and strongly believed that there could be Demons, and had heard of other saints battling them. But I knew from all the Gospels that every demon was cast out by the Name of Jesus Christ. But too my surprise, Gabriel just laughed and said, "Dude, whatever. Jesus. What, you'd suspect me to have a problem with that? I mean come on Dipshit, I think we're both on the same side here."

"Well then who are you?" I was still unwilling to simply let this, whatever lead me into some sort of twisted nightmare.

"Let's just say that if anything goes wrong, then we'll talk, but for now, listen… you don't need to say goodbye to these guys, just pack your bag and let's go to Hilo." It was light enough now, and the sun had probably just risen over the ocean. I couldn't help but be excited, but a bit worried at my own excitement, I almost considered waking up someone up and explaining what was going on, and so on. But for every thought I had, Gabriel just answered so convincingly that I couldn't see anything worth arguing about. Why not anyways? Talk about the feelings of conquest. Once my bag was packed and on my back, I walked down the driveway with a full water bottle.

"Well Dipshit, I'll see you later." Gabriel said, and to my shock and dismay, it was silent. Nothing said anything, I felt like I was once again alone in my head, and then wondered… I kept my pace walking down the red road toward Opihikau. It was silent and I mentally called out, "Hey, where are you guys." No response. I simply assumed that they were gone. But I was thrilled and decided that I should definitely take it as a sign to go to Hilo, and now I would have the story of stories to tell. I walked on smiling, but I definitely felt a lot fresher and better, somehow in sync with the universe.

The air was fresh and the iron woods with the coconut trees, and those other trees with punk rock styled foliage, roots shooting into the ground, like an upside down umbrella. The day began to warm up, but it was at least five minutes before a car would pass in either direction. The Red Road is only one lane wide, and often, you just sort of play chicken because right off side the pavement, on either side was about three foot shoulders of red cinder. Whenever a car would come, I'd hop off the pavement, and stick out my thumb. I didn't expect locals in big trucks hauling dirt or papaya to stop, or those shiny new model cars with tourists driving slowly who would usually just gock at me driving slowly with straight faces. Pale Haoles in rentals would some times pull over. Sometimes early morning surfers, but never the local boys in new Toyota Tacoma's stopped for me. Most of the rides were from Puna Beaters, cars that had rust spots and were only worth a couple grand. The poor help the poor is what I've found. I call it the Good Samaritan syndrome, and all the cars that don't pick me up, were just as guilty as the snobs in the Gospel Parable.

My ride was from a woman in a bathing suit and shorts, probably in her fifty's, tan and fit and had already swam at the warm ponds at sunrise. She was obviously an original hippie and had been picking up hitch hikers and hitch hiked many times herself. But as she drove me to Pahoa, I realized that she was one of them!

Voices Chapter 8… Use the Force

"So how are you doing, you look a little distressed about something," she said after I had gotten in and confirmed I was on my way to Hilo. She looked at me with surprisingly youthful eyes, but I couldn't figure out how she knew I was distressed. I hitch hiked almost everyday, and was acting my role, smiling and acting polite trying to radiate a positive vibe.

"Oh I'm alright, I just had an extremely strange night last night, an um…" I trailed off and decided not to make her feel as if she had picked up with some skitzo or worse. She seemed to generate a calm energy of balance, like the feeling around yoga meditating types that aren't snobby.

"Well, life is sometimes an adventure you know, you never know when you're tuned into something greater than yourself." She smiled as she said this and glanced over at me, and then back out to the road. We were driving over the short hills where vehicles go airborne at 60mph, but the road is so straight that sometimes it's quite the roller coaster when riding in the back of some maniacal pick-up truck. But we were cruising along comfortably at 30mph.

Although I had been on this road at least once a week for months now, this ride stood the hairs on the back of my neck up more than any other. What was going on? Who was this Lady and what did she know about what was happening to me?

"Yeah, last night I did contact something… I couldn't say it was 'greater' than me, well, actually I think--"

"You know, you remind me of somebody out of an adventure, like fighting the Dark Side. Do you know which movie I'm talking about, the one where the young man you remind me of was using the Force?"
"Oh, you mean Star Wars, and Luke Skywalker… funny you should mention it because my real name is—
She interrupted me again, this time removing all doubt that she was sent to me. "Yes Luke, well, you know, when certain things happen, sometimes it's best just to keep quiet. Because there is a power in Silence, and sometimes it's a blessing. Do you understand me?" She looked over at me, and I felt this sudden tranquil feeling of bliss, and underneath that, I was so astonished… I couldn't say it was exactly a spiritual feeling, it was more like magic in the air. I felt humbled though and even blushed a little, wondering if she was even human. I wanted to talk to her, ask her questions. I had so many questions, but this feeling I got when I looked at her, it was as if she silently beckoned me to be silent. I felt like a little child meeting a grandparent for the first time, shy and a bit in awe.

We drove the rest of the way to Pahoa in silence and peace. She pulled over and let me off at the Post office. As I got out, I looked in the old beat up 80's model Honda Accord and said, "Thank you for the ride, I just… I don't even know what to say."

"Well you know," she said, "It's not everyday you're picked up by an Angel." She beamed a smile and I think I saw a faint light coming from her face. It caused me to blush, feeling like a child once more.

"Oh and Jasper?" she called, and I looked up, "Try to be Silent." I closed the car door and watched in wonder, forgetting to take down the license plate number. And as I stood there, I heard a familiar friend.

"See Dipshit?" Gabriel said calmly and clearly, "You don't even know who you are yet."

Voices Chapter 9… Trust and Kisses

It was a sunny day with a few fluffy cumulus clouds. I walked through Pahoa toward the Keau Kalapana highway 11 with my thumb out. Gabriel was talking in an ironical voice to me, sort of building up my expectation and trust in him, pointing out that it was impossible for everything that had happened to be coincidental.

"Okay Dipshit, it may be okay for you right now, but eventually you're going to want to lose that pack." Gabriel said. I wondered what he was talking about. This pack had my sleeping gear, a flashlight and umbrella, why would I possibly want to get rid of it? As I walked through another voice kicked in. This voice was fully mature, and was narrating my actions and the setting.

"And so our hero travels out of town, his thumb extended with hopes and dreams of what may come to pass this bright sunny day… etc." I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of this amusing story teller. He wasn't talking to me, he was talking about me. I tested him, and picked up a golf ball that was on the shoulder of the road and begin to bounce it, and sure enough, this clever story teller amused me with metaphors, calling the golf ball an "object of power". I was at this point audibly giggling, and felt as if I was feeling the initial waves of a mushroom trip, all giddy and feeling like dancing as I walked.

I walked the mile from the Post office to the edge of town, (this was before the gas station and grocery store complex was built) and crossed the highway to where green paint spattered the road, marking a spot where the shoulder was wide enough for cars to pull over. I took my pack off while waiting for my ride, and Gabriel said, "Ah, just leave your pack man… you don't need it." I ignored this absurd suggestion, and soon enough a pickup pulled over and the driver motioned me to hop in the back. I was wondering if anything strange would occur, but nothing really happened, and I was let off at the end of highway 11 where the road T's off, one way to Hilo, the other to Volcano. The clouds were a little thicker her, but weren't threatening to rain. I walked to another choice spot on the highway guard rail and stuck out my thumb again. No voices were talking to me now, but I was listening to Bradley from Sublime sing "Smoke two Joints". It seemed even this song wasn't a coincidence.

One of the Puna Rasta's pulled over in a beater, and I hopped in, a moment later, the Rasta passed me a chronic joint, and I chuckled a bit.

"What man, you smoke herb right?" The Rasta guy asked.

"Oh yeah, I smoke two joints in the morning," I sang back. The Rasta smiled at ease and nodded in agreement.

"This is some organic bud; I don't even mess with the chemy shit brah." I smiled at this. So many organic hippies in Puna are completely against anything genetically modified or chemical, but I couldn't help but see the irony—here we were inhaling sticky smoke that could hardly be seen as healthy for the lungs. It was a trade off for the airy vibe, but I could care less if the herb was grown with Miracle Grow or bat guano. The Rasta guy looked a bit familiar; I think I had seen him at the Bob Marley festival where Marty Dread and some other Reggae bands played in February.

"So where are you going in Hilo?" he asked.

"I'm not sure yet," I realized I really didn't know, but once we rolled past the KTA, Gabriel told me to get out. The Rasta pulled over and let me out next to Borders, and told me, "One love brah, be airy." I went to Borders often to listen to music; it was right next to the Natural Food store and Wal-Mart.

I contemplated going into Borders, but as the thought arose, Gabriel said, "Not today Dipshit," and I felt a push, it wasn't physical, almost like I was a puppet on magnetic strings. The feeling wasn't unpleasant, and so I just stepped along with it. I walked quickly across the parking lot and into Wal-Mart where I ended up picking up a bag of Hershey kisses and buying them with my EBT card. The story teller voice was going along with my movements.

During the next hour, I was at first embarrassed, and then elated as I walked up to random strangers and gave them a chocolate Kiss. Some people, the voices didn't want me to give the chocolates to, but one lady reached in her purse and gave me a twenty dollar bill. For this, the voices had me do a full prostration, bowing down and touching my forehead to the ground in front of her, as I did this I felt such an extremely blissful feeling, I didn't want to get up. When I did, this woman made a half bow, like the Japanese and said, "Oh bless your heart sweetie," and smiled. I thought I had just made twenty dollars, but Gabriel had me give the money to a rich looking Hawaiian who pulled up in a big new Dodge truck. This guy looked at me curiously and cautiously accepted the money. He looked like he was wondering whether he was on some hidden video. Once he saw that it wasn't a joke, he quickly muttered a "thank you" and walked into the store. I couldn't understand this at all, but after all that had happened, I didn't feel like questioning anything. I still had many more Hershey's Kiss's, but felt a strong invisible push out of the parking lot, and down to the intersection where a cop was directing traffic with his little white gloves.

I felt the invisible force pushing me across the intersection, but then it changed directions and pushed me back across the street, the way I had come. I walked back and forth a couple times, and began to worry, noticing that the cop had noticed me and didn't look amused by this crazy haole running like an insane chicken. I began to question everything and wondered if I'd end up in jail. As I wondered this, a voice laughed out and said, "Jail! Wouldn't that be an exciting adventure?" The cop glared at me from the other side of the street, and then I realized, this wasn't going to end nicely. It was then I looked up into the intersection and saw Jerry, one of my older friends who fixed up hot rods as a hobby. I completely ignored the invisible force, ran through the cars that were stopped at a red light and hopped into Jerry's truck.

"Well hi there Grass, you look a bit stressed out man, what's going on?" Jerry asked. The light changed green and we rolled away from the catastrophe.

"Jerry, I know you're going to think I'm crazy, well, have you ever heard voices before?"

Voices Chapter 10… Faggots at Jerry's

"I don't think you're crazy Grass," Jerry said with conviction. He was a guy in his late 30's or early 40's, always going to the full moon parties or raves around Puna. I met him the first week I had hitched in to Pahoa drinking coffee at Rogers Meaner Weiner hotdog booth.

"Well, I don't know what crazy is, but I think I fit the clinical definition right now. I'm not complaining, except that right before you picked me up, things were getting a little bit hectic." I told him a rough outline of everything that had happened, skipping over the humiliation that led to the voices.

"I hear voices sometimes too, especially when I'm riding my motorcycle, flying down the road, I'll hear a voice yell at me to run into a tree." He looked over at me and raised an eyebrow, almost the way Eseh would raise his and said, "You just got to be stronger than the voices, Grass, they'll mess you up if you let them."

I thought about what he said, and decided he wasn't hearing the same voices as me. My voices hadn't urged me to do anything that would physically harm myself… well they did say 'you can jump off the cliff and die' but that was only when I asked to get out of the Matrix. I noticed as I was riding with Jerry, I hadn't heard from Gabriel or anyone else, it was just me in my head for the time. Were they listening in on me?

"Where are you headed Grass?" Jerry asked. I realized I didn't have a plan of my own. If it had been up to me, I probably would be down at the Monkey Temple with Pops' camp. Jerry must have seen my indecision and quickly offered his house as a current destination. "I think it would be good for you to ground out for a bit," he said, "You know the blonde dreadlock guy, Island is staying there now. I'll tell you what, I'm driving into Pahoa for a minute, and you can hop out there or come over to my house, whatever you want."

When we reached Pahoa, Jerry pulled over at the Meaner Weiner and began to chat with Will, the Wing Nut with piercing blue eyes who had recently wrapped his bangs with copper wire, making two funny looking antennas. Will lived out in front of the Meaner Weiner in his dirty blue jeans, bumming cigarettes off other bums and talking about his mastery of Aikido. I was in no mood to join into the conversation, and didn't have 50 cents for a coffee, so I hung out by the back of Jerry's truck, when Eseh came walking down the sidewalk.

"Oh hey Grass, boy you must of left the Monkey Temple in a hurry, everyone was wondering where you went." Although it must have been 75 degrees, Eseh was wearing his wool sweater from some country near Tibet.

"Yeah, I sort of had to." I explained what had happened, getting animated and into the details of it all, when Jerry interrupted and asked me if I wanted to stay or go.

Then he looked at Eseh and invited him to come along too.

Eseh and I jumped into the back of Jerry's truck and talked all the way to Paradise Park. Eseh laughed his high pitched trade mark laugh as I told my adventure, especially howling in delight as I explained my trek back in forth across the intersection in front of the cop. The sun was on its way over Mt. Manaloa when we pulled up to Jerry's place. Junk cars and auto parts filled the yard; even a white Limo was parked in one corner, all dusty and obviously not in driving condition. Apparently Jerry was a mechanic.

The house wasn't as cluttered as the lawn, although a handful of keikis (kids) ran about. They looked to be Hawaiian, but it was hard to tell. One was asking Island why he ate only health food, and he responded it was good for him.

We sat down at a white lawn table inside the kitchen and rolled a couple of shake joints. Shake was plentiful and cheap, but not nearly as potent as bud, so it was more of a paupers social smoke, and often refused by the weed snobs in the area. After a couple joints, I had a good buzz on, and started to get the munchies. Jerry had disappeared up the stairs, and Island had wandered off with the kids. The sun had set, and Eseh and I sat around joking in the light of a kerosene lantern. After a couple hours, we moved an old vinyl couch out of the way to lay out our sleeping bags. Eseh brought some candy out of his pack, and we ate it with relish. We laughed and talked a bit more, and then heard an angry voice yell from upstairs.

Suddenly, an older woman came loudly down the stairs, obviously quite peeved at something. In seconds we were sitting up in our sleeping bags, facing a woman in her night gown. Her eyes were black and bulging and her white peppered hair was disheveled.

"Alright I heard you two faggots; now get out of my house!" Neither one of us knew how to respond to this. Who was this woman?

"I mean it," she went on, "I was almost asleep when I heard you to bumping each other and moaning, and I won't allow that nastiness in my home, so get out!" I then realized what she was accusing us of.

"Oh no, you must have heard us moving the couch, but we weren't doing—" I stammered, but couldn't finish.

"Bullshit," she screamed, "You too faggots were fucking, I know what I heard!"

Jerry appeared, coming down the same flight of stairs, slowly ducking his head to see what the commotion was. He looked tired and said, "No mom, these are my friends, they weren't having sex, they were just laughing." He looked apologetically at us.

"No they weren't Jerry, I heard them fucking and moaning, and I want them out of here!" She was obviously in charge here. I looked over at Eseh and he looked down at the ground humbly like a beaten dog and silently started packing his gear. I wasn't upset, I was actually amused by all this and was sure that Jerry would be able to explain, but by the way he shook his head, it was apparent that our slumber party was over.

"I'm sorry guys; I guess I'll give you a lift back into Pahoa." I didn't argue and it seemed like there wasn't anything to protest. It was what it was, and at times like those to argue would only aggravate the situation. I stuffed my sleeping bag back into my pack, and we walked out to the truck.

"I'm really sorry," Jerry said, "She's becoming senile and gets like this sometimes." There wasn't anything to say beyond this. Eseh and I assured him that we'd be alright and weren't angry. We got into the back of his truck, and rode into Pahoa.

The night was cool, probably in the upper 50's, but the wind in the back of the truck made it feel much colder. By the time Jerry let us out, I was shivering a bit. We said our goodbye's and assured Jerry that we'd be alright. He looked embarrassed and tired, gave a weak smile and shrugged, then pulled out and drove through the deserted towns. Accept for the chirping Kokee frogs, the town was asleep and silent.

In my journeys, I found that Pahoa is the last frontier in America, one of the only towns I know that hasn't become a police state. I had slept at the towns baseball and soccer field, under the roof of a bench dugout, the first couple weeks, and knew that I wouldn't be rudely awakened by police flashlights at 3:00am, as is the custom on the mainland.

Eseh and I walked up the steps to the baseball diamond which is about thirty feet above the town. It often rains at night, but the 10x20 aluminum roof over the concrete floor of the dugouts stays relatively dry. It didn't look like it would rain this night, but it was impossible to tell for sure. Just as we made our beds and lay down to sleep, we noticed a four legged figure that seemed to be prancing in the dim starlight. It wasn't moving like a dog, and had a certain bounce to its step. It was obviously dancing for its own enjoyment, feeling safe in the darkness in the middle of the field. At the same time, Eseh and I realized with a chuckle, it was a little pig, and yes, it was dancing.