I had a lovely stay at this other dry, desert state. Only, unlike Texas, there was art, and history, and fascinating geology at every turn. Our first stop was at The Carlsbad Caverns National Park right at the border of Texas.
I’d like to think of it as a giant earth vagina
We drove up into the mountains, then walked 72 floors down into the Deep, then ascended back up the 5,000 feet in a speedy elevator. It was about 90 degrees outside, and 55 inside. Yikes for the sensitive to drastic changes of pressure and climate. I’ve been in caverns before, once in north Georgia and once in Alabama, but this one takes the cake just for sheer grandeur. (If you’re on the east side of the states, then The DeSoto Caverns will fulfill your caveman/woman desires.) A deep cavern experience is unlike anything else in the world. Not that I’ve experienced everything in the world… The initial feeling is that of spook and giddy wonder. Kind of like going into a haunted house. A haunted house on another planet. It takes a good chunk of time to really get in there, all the while the opening to the abyss is getting larger and larger. The air gets cooler and heavier. Every drip, every foot scuff echoes throughout the entire thing. Your neck cramps from looking up in awe. You’d better cling to the rail, because the path is slick and steep, and you could easily fall 50 floors to your doom. Its plain to see the element of danger, but just in case you’re an idiot, there are signs telling you that several people per year have to be rescued from the caves, and some die. …What? You don’t want to go now? Oh, relax. Its totally worth risking your life. (hehehe)
For those of you curious about the metaphysical aspects of the caverns, its easier to see light beings in the darkness. The tiny photons of light I normally see, erratically moving about, become larger pellets with distinct flight patterns. Vague, colored mists last longer and hold form. Its called a “living cave” for a reason, because its still being formed a little bit every day. So, the energy of the rocks is thick and slow-pulsing like molasses pumping out of a pipe. Physically sensitive people must be careful, because I could feel the pressure on my lungs. I attempted to clear the way for communication, but I suppose I’m not there yet. The phrase “if these walls could talk…” would be appropriate for Carlsbad, most definitely. I imagine they would whisper the mysteries of the beginning of the earth.
So, here’s a video of me and Dad taking the plunge. Its times like these that call for a great camera. But alas, I could only capture the other-worldly wonder on my iphone. (I apologize for the volume issues. Please adjust as necessary.)
NEW ORLEANS BABY!!! HAHAHAAA! Oh man… holy shit… holllllllley flamin’ beignet biscuits, what a town. I’ve never been before and… what a sensory overload! Its like a giant, city-sized floating funhouse plopped in the middle of a bayou with 250 years of debauched history. Sprinkle on endless stories of ghosts, vampires, murders, and the fact that they have the highest number of missing persons per year, compared to all other cities in the U.S., then you get some sort of SORDID funhouse with knives on the slide and cannibals behind the mirrors. Sounds like something out of a Rob Zombie film… But hell, that’s why its fun. Since when does pleasure and pain come separately anyway?
So. Even though being outside in the heat and humidity for more than a minute gets you covered in slime, our visit started off on the right foot. A great hotel really makes a difference. I’m so grateful my Dad offered to come along and pay for shit, otherwise I’d be sleeping in my car and might not’ve had a back by the time I got to Oregon.
I don’t know what I expected. I don’t think I had any expectations, really. I mean, I’d always heard crazy stories from mardis gras, but its not that time of year. However. Something called “Southern Decadence” was happening all Labor Day weekend. Gay men pranced around in large numbers embracing their gayness. Ok, maybe only some of them pranced. It was sort of a big, sweaty, anything goes, unofficial parade of stereotypes. But don’t get me wrong, I thought it was fucking awesome! I’ve never been so entertained or felt so safe amid so many men. And I totally saw this one dude’s penis. Hahahaha. I took an awesome video of the insanity with my iphone but for some reason the file went corrupt 😦 SO bummed about that. Oh well. Guess I’ll just have to attend another gay parade. Onlyyyy next time, not with my dad. Sorry. One should never have to view so many butt cheeks with their father.
Anyway. Moving right along. I was stunned at all the art galleries and antique shops. I could’ve spent a hell of a lot more time exploring those. There’s live music at every other block, and they could easily be a set up for a movie. Everything you’ve seen about New Orleans, by the way, isn’t an exaggeration. People really talk like that. The bayou really looks and smells like that. And its really that crazy. Its an eternal party. What I love most, is that anyone can be anything they want without scrutiny. EN-eee-thing. AND. You may even be able to make money just off of being your weird self. Take these people for example.
Well, I guess I can’t write about New Orleans without mentioning VooDoo. All I have to say about that is, its not all that hexing spooky spell shit the media portrays it to be. I mean, every spiritual practice has its dark side if the individual chooses to take it there, but from what I could tell, its just Haitian metaphysics. The voodoo doll is primarily used for healing. There are different colored needles that stand for different emotions. You put the needles in the part of the body that you want to see healed in that fashion. For instance, a pink needle may stand for bliss or peace, so you can stick it in the heart. A green needle might stand for calm, so you stick it in your doll’s nervous stomach. Those aren’t accurate, just examples so you can get the jist. I think its pretty cool. The Haitians are polytheistic and the many sculptures, statues, and masks are representations of them. Once again, nothing spooky here. For instance, the mermaid who looks into the mirror and sees her skeleton is an analogy for getting to know oneself deeper, in an existential sort of way.
So, nothing spooky yet, however, if you visit NOLA, I highly recommend the Vampire Tours. On the surface of these animated streets, life is… parties, lights, music, and people seem to follow their city’s motto, “let the good times roll,” but at the underbelly some really disturbing stories can be found. They are fascinating, though. Did you know that NOLA’s graveyard is above ground? It is said its because water runs not too deeply below the surface. What I learned on the tour, is that the city is so pressed for space that after a certain amount of time, they squish your remains to the back of the vault and drop them down a shoot into the bayou so they may reuse your place of rest. That’s about 300 years of death layered on top of each other.
There’s a story about two men who lived and worked in NOLA around 1932 who were arrested for kidnapping several people off all ages and gender. They kept them tied up, drained them of their blood, and when they died they buried them nearby, layering the victim’s remains in limestone and acid in order to dissolve the bodies. The police never found out just how many victims were buried there. Its said that the condo these men lived at is highly haunted and in the last ten years, only three people have lived there. Even though its a nice place in the center of the french quarter, no one stays for more than a few months.
That’s merely the tip of the iceberg, though. However, I’m only going to mention one more story because its just so damn twisted and interesting. The archdiocese resides on the outskirts of downtown in an old, inactive convent called the Ursuline convent. In case you don’t know what archdiocese means ( I didn’t) it is a district ruled under the archbishop’s jurisdiction. In other words, its a chunk of the Vatican. It belongs to them, not the city, the state, or even the country for that matter. (I don’t think… don’t quote me on that, though.) Anyway, St. Mary’s church, and a thick 10 foot wall around the premises was added onto this convent. It is famous for several reasons, but mostly for the tale of the casket girls. There are several variations of this story, but I’ll tell you what I heard. The French Catholic church sent over several young ladies on a boat to NOLA to wed the lonely men working there. They were given casket shaped boxes filled with their dowry, however some stories say they were empty, and possibly for the purpose of holding their bodies once deceased, others say they held vampires. The boat stopped at other ports along the way, and many of the women were convinced to get off with those men. By the time the ship arrived at NOLA not many were left, and instead, several casket shaped boxes were carried off. The old Ursuline convent took the remaining ladies and their boxes in. Hence, the term “casket girls.” Rumors spread around town about vampires. The people eventually rioted the archdiocese and demanded to see what was in the boxes. Apparently the church assured them that there was nothing in them and they were stored in the attic for safekeeping. Over the years, people have asked for access to that attic, but they are denied and told there is nothing up there except old furniture and dust. The windows to the attic are nailed shut with wooden shutters. You can clearly see, that no other part of town has shutters quite like this even with the threat of hurricanes. Apparently, around 1978 a paranormal team visited NOLA to investigate the casket girl story. Two young ladies set up a camera on a tripod facing the attic windows for an all night investigation. In the morning, they were found nude, dead, and placed on the front stairs to St. Mary’s. There was no sign of injury except for a gash on their backs between the spine and shoulder blade. The coroner’s report states, “whatever happened to these girls, must have been done with their consent.”
I briefly researched these things and couldn’t find a whole lot to back it up, but it makes one hell of a story, right? Oh, and here’s one more bit to really twist the blade. The giant cross above the front doors of the church is not in the typical savior shape, yet it is encased in a perfect circle, which is often recognized as a sun cross, with the perpendicular lines denoting the solstices. In the center of this sun cross is an upside down dove. The dove is used in christian faith to show how it descended from heaven and landed upon Jesus, however, its normally depicted upright, or sideways. I looked into that, and an upside down dove IS associated with the Occult, but whether that actually means something, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.
a real time shot from the actual church courtesy google earth
Something phenomenal just happened and I’m recording it immediately so I won’t forget any detail. Once again, I was on an airplane when this mystical experience took place. I had taken a few minutes to visualize and align my chakras. I was reminded to do this because my knee was hurting. I was rubbing it and visualizing it healing. In my mind’s eye, I noticed spheres of light were slowly forming and the longer I massaged, the more charged with energy I felt. I let the feeling take over and my hands began to do their own thing- pressing on certain points, moving in specific directions. When I was done, I sat up and felt the plane take off. I said a silent prayer to my angels to guide the craft safely. Whenever I call them, I imagine and feel their energy rush towards my head and shoulders. I sat back and felt my energy expand. The sensation was so strong, I couldn’t help but imagine I had wings that were spreading out from my shoulder blades and settling two feet or so around me. I made the connection between auras and wings. As I sat there, I thought to myself, “wow, I really feel energized… I feel… powerful…” every now and then I feel inclined to attempt telekinesis. So I looked right in front of myself at the switch on the seat that releases the table. I tried to make it move without success. A phrase came into my head that I had seen in the movie The Matrix. There is a scene where a gifted child is bending a spoon with his mind. He tells keanu reeves, “the trick is to remember that there is no spoon.” I also heard other voices in my mind saying, “you must BE the this. BECOME the that, be ONE with whatever, and so on…” I tried taking on that mentality. I wasn’t able to move the switch, but a different, unexpected effect took place.
I became the plane.
The tubular body of the plane felt like my rib cage. I could feel cold air on my “face” which was the nose of the plane. My metal wings were steady amid the whooshing atmosphere. I could feel all the little seats inside me. I was utterly frozen in awe. Seriously, I couldn’t move. So I just went with the feeling and tried to see what else I could experience. In my mind’s eye I flipped up all the dvd players, the front half of my body arched up slightly and then back into place as if I were stretching, and finding delight in flying fast through sky. Then I wondered, “if this is all me, and these certain parts are my body, then what part do the people play?” Then I saw everyone’s head glow golden and golden threads connected each of their heads. Together, our consciouness created the atmosphere. I began to send pink waves of translucscent positive energy from the front to the back of the plane. It looked as if a “scanner” was scanning the entire interior. It was really quite incredible. This lasted maybe 15-20 minutes…? The whole time I didn’t move an inch, but I noticed different muscles twitching involuntarily here and there. I decided to end the experience and retracted my transluscent pink energy from all areas of the plane back into my body. As soon as I did, I jumped slightly as I became mobile again.
Coming back to Atlanta after ten days spent in crisp earthgirl bliss was kind of a culture shock. People moved differently. They walked faster, talked harder, and certainly weren’t nearly as polite as Yooper folk. The energy was just more abrasive in general. It was a side of Atlanta I knew well, but had never brought to the surface for thorough analysis. Needless to say, it ran against the grain.
I had one day to pack before I left yet again for the airport to pick up Dad and begin our journey across the country. I think I was anxious. I slept a lot. Put off the final chores to the very end. It wasn’t until I drove out of my neighborhood with all my belongings scrunched in a tiny Honda that I began to smile uncontrollably, even giggle a little. Goodbye Roswell. Goodbye Georgia. I am fucking OUT of here!
I’m here. Starting the soul-searching adventure of a lifetime. This is the kind of shit movies are made of…
Let’s go over *why* I’m here. In a nutshell- a little one, like a single peanut, not the double peanut- (hey, by the way, where the HELL did that phrase originate??) I’d been living in Georgia for 22 years. College didn’t work out, love didn’t work out, rental home living didn’t work out, then life didn’t work out and I spent some time in a mental facility (yeah, I’ll write about that later), and after a catalytic fight with a roommate I impulsively decided to get OUT. Life was draining the life out of me. Dreams weren’t coming true, I couldn’t find fulfillment, and I had lost so much in so little time. I’d gained the accompanying wisdom, but to learn so many lessons in such a compressed slot was almost unbearable. So with 30 around the corner, I decided to close this chapter of my life. I took out my retirement money and started packing.
The coming blogs will be about my travels to find a new home. They will come from Michigan, New Orleans, Austin, Tuscon, Oakland, SanFran, Mt. Shasta, Oregon, and possibly Washington. I’ll also include epiphanies, sardonic delight, and strange metaphysical ponderings.
Welcome to my “big transition.”
…oh and if you’d like to know where the nutshell phrase originated, here’s a link:
SpiralsAndEyes 