Some of the crystals for sale at the town near the base of Heaven’s Gate. I bought one of the sparkly pink ones for Best Friend Judy.
The bus was scattered with every last traveler; 12 in all, including Howard. The Huachuma sunk in with deepening dives; every breath sent me deeper and higher. Z sat next to me, so silent and intense, so I flipped on my favorite all time album (Sigur Ros: Takk) and got a little lost.
We stopped for a brief time at a little town nestled in a valley, right near the town’s square. We were all silly by then, looped up, vibrating, and wall-less. The bus halted outside an ice cream shop and we all sat, frozen and confused. Should we move? Talk? Get out? Stay forever?
Yes and yes.
Howard’s rallying cry lifted us into action.
We had 20 minutes. To shop, to buy water and chocolate, to ask the flowers the secret to their vibrant shades; whatever we needed. 20 minutes to lift off.
Z couldn’t move or function, so I had to give him my strength. He took it in spades, and we finally exited the bus. We headed for the street merchants; a whole scattering a lovely Peruvians, selling their various wares.
We saw some familiar bottles; these magnificent artistic carvings with gnomes and fantasy creatures emerging from the sides of the otherwise ordinary bottles. They spoke to us, but silently, and not strong enough to claim one as our own. We wandered the jewelry set-ups and clothing, bypassing a closer look.
Then we found the moving stones.
A kind woman at the end of the line had a line-up of rocks; and each one looked completely alive. I chose a rose quartz, Z picked a huge sparkling piece of gold fleck stone–we clutched them and sucked up the energies. I paid the modest fee and we triumphantly returned to the bus, rocks in tow.
- We’re going to the top of a mountain. There are hundreds of rocks up there.
Like it mattered. These were goddamn special.
Everyone slowly reassembled, and our chariot roared to life. Z and I both fell back into our headphones, and I consciously channeled my energies. I put every last powerful cell into my fingertips, merging with the divinities of my precious rock. I clutched the quarts so hard, specs pierced my flesh with tiny dotted markings. I loved her, my shiny rose memento. I loved her enough to give her away. I knew she’d be for J-Pie, my best best best best friend back in LaLa. My beacon of light. She deserved this.
The Sigur Ros tunes gave me a sense of infinite power, benevolent and holy. I swayed to the melodies, but over and over, I kept seeing the same image — I was standing in a tiny house, my eyes peering south through a miniscule square window. I was in a kitchen, cleaning dishes, absorbing the majestic blue beyond. Suddenly, I would hear a rumbling, and just as I turned to look, I was immediately buried in a wall of soil – and poof, I was gone.
Again and again, the skies rained the earth. Again and again, I perished, and rose again.
I understood the metaphor; we were about to pass over a burial ground; one formed 37 years prior by a 9.0 earthquake. The bodies of 70,000 innocents shivered beneath the tires. Their screams still muffled, their arms still outstretched.
Could I be one of them?
My mind still had a tiny echo inside; the remnants of my ego. She told me not to believe in past lives and such nonsense. She was trying to keep a grip.
But that didn’t last long. Before I knew it, Huachuma granted me another vision.
I saw Daniel Pearl. Daniel is the journalist who in 2000 was murdered by Pakistani militants. He was beheaded on video tape; a film that passed through millions of inboxes. Not mine, no; I couldn’t bare it, though my then-husband took the bait. Regretfully. Daniel, he always stayed close to me. I felt him the moment he was kidnapped, and I always maintained a connection.
And here he was once again, smiling before me. Why now? Why me?
That smile – it was so bloody familiar. I remembered quickly just how I knew it so well. There were photos that were shown during his kidnapped days, prior to his death; he had his hands shackled, his eyes blindfolded, and yet, he had a smile. This electric, divine, absolutely luminous smile. I knew I’d never forget it.
That was the first time I ever understood what it was to surrender to the Universe. The very first time. He was living the ultimate nightmare, and yet, he trusted. Even if he would lose his head, he trusted it would be beautiful.
I curled up on his smile and fell into the scenery. What did I have to surrender to?
- Everything, he told me.
- Everything, and nothing.
We reached our final pit stop just as he waved and disappeared.
