Amazon Logging

A friend of mine recently saw a documentary about gold miners tearing up a chunk of the rainforest--probably in the cloud forest on the eastern slopes of the Andes--in Peru and wondered why that couldn't be stopped.
I responded with this short but salient note about the illegal logging in the jungle as a sort of comparison. Here is what I had to say:
Well, no, the Peruvian government, just like the rest of the governments all over the world, can't keep people from either legal or illegal plundering. We just do it more formally here in the Western World by giving people contracts to ravage the land. In poor countries it's generally every man/woman for him/herself. Why can't it be stopped? Because there are just too many who want to work and need the dough and from everybody's point of view the jungle goes on endlessly. They have no idea how finite it really is. Even on the river I use for my trips there is illegal logging. And the loggers, who go upriver from where we go, cut down 10 trees, maybe 60 feet of good 5'-7' thick trunk each, and make rafts to float back to Iquitos where the wood is made into the cheapest plywood you've ever seen. And the men who do the work will make about 8 dollars a day, and the guy who organizes the trips will sell those 10 tree trunks--cut into 12 foot lengths for transport-- for a total of a thousand dollars and earn maybe $300-$500 when he's paid off his people and for the gas to put in the boats to move that raft of trunks.
Here's the kicker: There are trees out there--lots and lots of them--that are worth tens of thousands of dollars for a single trunk for use in fine veneers, fine furniture, fine flooring and for woodworkers. One of my friends, Jim K, has control of vast reserves of forest and he has his people, the people who live out there in those reserves, make very occasional and selective cuts. A tree here, a tree there. And he then has those trunks cut into blocks to sell to wood workers in stores in the northern US and Canada. And it's beautiful wood shipped out by the occasional container load. And his people get well paid and they don't need to cut the forest for cheap plywood. They protect the forest.
But how to educate everybody that they could make a lot more with a lot less cutting if they sold the right trees to the right buyers? And even if you could educate those illegal loggers, the price would fall if suddenly there was a lot more wood sold for veneers and furniture, and then the locals would go back to cutting everything.
So yes, it stinks.
And no, I don't have a solution.

Well, That's How Love is if You Mishandle It

I don't go on facebook very often. But I still get notices from "friends" sometimes and those draw me in if I've got a moment. And, of course, once in a while I look for old loves. Why? Cause I'm a maudlin creep, I guess. Or sometimes just want to peek and see how some women I loved a long time ago are doing.
Well, today, there were notices that drew me to two women I loved. And in pictures, both of those women were being held by other men. I had my chance to hold them. I guess I didn't hold them tight enough. I always ran away. And when I stopped running away it was with a woman who ran away.
And so, as I was down with the flu and couldn't write worth a dime, I took a nap. And when I awoke from that all I could think of was All of my women are being held by other men.
Man, that was lousy.
I'm glad they got the right holding.
I hope they get more.
But it still shot through me that I'd failed those women, probably hurt them. They were willing to love and I was not. Selfish. Scared.
All of the women I loved love or loved other men.
Now if it only starts raining, I'll probably melt in a pile of self pity/hatred.
I miss them all, terribly.

Da Marvelous Trips

Well, it's been a nice week. Weather has been chilly and perfect here in bucolic Joshua, the whole family is fairly stoned on cough syrup cause we've all got thick colds and the attendant coughs, and I'm getting out there and doing my walking daily--which is good because otherwise I'm tethered to this computer. And now that my friend Martin hooked up a second screen for me last week, well, hell, I'm double-tethered.
Plus, I've been doing a lot of stories and still have two to go: One for the business magazine is due tomorrow--Yikes!--and a cover for the alternative weekly is due...well, tomorrow too, though only a draft of it due then. Problem? Yes. Seems that what I thought was cover story material is, after weeks of rooting around, sending in Freedom of Information Requests and calling eminent domain attorneys and a whole lot of other people, not a story at all. Ah well. I'm in proverbial hole, you might say, and I'm wracking my brain trying to come up with a way to salvage it and thus save my job. Oy vey! I'm verklempt!
But there is a bright side: The book is selling well this month.
And better still: Six people have signed on for the February jungle trip. Which is going to be 12 days instead of 9 1/2 for the same price, because I need my jungle fix. And a couple more, two just today, have asked if there is space. Yes, but I'm really hoping that the interest stays and I can fill it up. Cause the trip is just fantastic when we've got a pretty good sized group of 10-12 guests. That keeps my team hopping and when they're working they're having a blast. Me too. It's still small and intimate, but there are generally enough different personalities to keep things interesting.
Okay, so that's all I had to tell you.
I hope you all have some good things happening in your lives as well.
Oh, and if any of you have a good story idea that I can write in less than 24-hours, well, by all means pass it along. I'll owe ya.

Okay, You Shmoeblies, I'm Feeling Cantankerous

Okay, you shmoeblies--that's a word I just made up to describe you, my dear readers--what's up? I just gave you three world freaking class recipes and nobody has written back that they've tried them and gotten laid, saved a marriage, ended a feud....what the hell is good food for except to change people and their attitudes? You think I'm giving you these recipes because I'm bored? These are shamanic tools that will allow you to change your whole world! Food is one of the three basics, okay? We have air--we need that for real. Then we have water--we have to have that. Then there is food. That's the third biggie. After that come shelter, safety, comfort and all the rest. But the first three we need even if we're on the run from dinosaurs.
And while good clay dirt and grubs will get you by, the reality is that in this world, the better the food--not the most costly because much of the best food is nearly free (see shmaltz or potatoes)--the better the communication, the better the healing. So I give out these recipes with the hopes that lives are changed. I mean, for goodness sakes! Strawberries in a bit of blue-cheese, garlic butter over sea scallops on a bed of sauteed spinach?????? Who makes that stuff up? That's magic in your hands.
So please, my little shmoeblies, try the freaking recipes and tell me how they changed your life. Maybe you made my basic and cheating bar-be-que sauce for a school affair that got you accepted or got your kid to stop being bullied. Maybe you tried my macaroni and cheese and realized you still loved your husband/wife, so long as they'd let you eat that stuff. Maybe you tried my lentils or canary beans and decided it wouldn't be so bad to be a vegetarian after all. Or maybe you tried my mussels maniere and realized that no champagne will ever go to waste again.
So here's one more, while it's raining ferociously here in bucolic Joshua, Texas and while I'm behind on two stories due Friday, which I have pretty much zero chance of completing because I'm a lazy motha.
Here's your basic, fantastic, roast chicken.
Buy half a dozen russet potatoes (red). Medium size. Cut them in half and put them, unpeeled, in a pot of cold water placed on maybe 8 out of 10. High but not max.
Wait 10 minutes, but before the water boils, add 30 baby organic peeled carrots.
Cut a large organic chicken in half. Wash it well, but not with soap.
Place the two chicken halves, skin down, in a dish lined with clean/trimmed celery stalks and thick half-onion rounds. Red onion preferred. Like cut an onion in half, turn it face down, make three slices and put those pretty thick slices on the celery stalks.
Put a couple of table spoons of chopped fresh garlic that's been sitting in olive oil for a day or so--at least a couple of hours--onto the chicken body. Rub it in with your hands. Include hand sweat, so long as it's clean. Put a little good butcher-ground black pepper and some very good sea salt (about $10 a pound but you get to use it in special places so it's worth it) on the chicken and rub it in.
Turn the chicken over.
Turn the oven on to 350 degrees.
Do the same thing to the skin side of the chicken as you did to the insides: Garlic, olive oil, good black pepper, good salt.
Go out to your yard or your neighbors yard or the local park and get two sprigs of cedar. Not logs, just sprigs.
Put them under the chicken, between the chicken and the celery/onions.
Put chicken in the oven.
Wait 20 minutes till the potatoes and carrots are halfway done.
Strain potatoes and carrots.
Put potatoes and carrots into the pot with the chicken. Spoon a little chicken grease from the pan over them to keep them moist.
Cook till chicken is brown. By that time the celery and onions will almost be caramelized, and the potatoes and carrots will be ready.
Take the chicken and veggies out and put aside.
Into the chicken pan put a couple of table spoons of flour and a can of chicken stock, or fresh chicken stock if you have some in your fridge.
Bring to a boil, solidify to a gravy.
Take a bit of chicken, a couple of potato halves, a few carrots, a stalk or two of celery and some of the onions and put them on your plate. Put some gravy on them. Make a good, tasty and healthy salad. Sit down. Eat. Get better.
Once better, become a shaman and pass secrets like this along. Keep the good things going.

Three Quick and Great Recipes

Okay, so a couple of friends came over for the weekend. There was ceremony on Friday, then a bridge over the creek got rebuilt Saturday morning and I got a second computer monitor--very che che!--on Saturday afternoon. I'm high tech, baby.
So no food on Friday, but on Saturday morning I made a nice omelet of sauteed ham, garlic, onion, spinach, broccoli, cauliflower and good cheddar cheese.
Madeleina one-upped me by making everyone a delicious smoothie of fresh cantaloupe, strawberries, banana, and tangerine in an organic vanilla yogurt with good water and a little orange juice. With just a little sugar. Damn, that was good.
Saturday night, after one of my friends had gone home, I made lime chicken--you know the one where I cut half a chicken breast in half (making four pieces of chicken out of one breast), then flour, egg and bread them in a mix of half-good breadcrumbs and half-good quality, grated parmesan cheese. Saute, turn, top with a little more parmesan, butcher ground black pepper and then squeeze lime juice onto them. Enough lime juice, like four full ripe limes for four pieces of chicken. Then bake for a few minutes at 350, till the cheese is a light brown and the chicken is cooked through.
But I also had a couple of beautiful, large, fresh sea scallops and couldn't resist making a little side dish with them.
So I sauteed fresh spinach in a bit of olive oil and garlic and used that as a bed. While that was cooking I floured the the scallops then put them in a hot pan with a bit more of that garlic and olive oil. A little butcher black pepper on them. Browned on one side, I turned them over, added a tablespoon of butter--that's all you need for four large scallops--and an ounce or so of good bleu cheese. When those married, I tossed three strawberries I'd sliced into the pan, pulled the scallops and put them on the little bed of spinach. Then I squeezed two limes into the garlic/ bleu cheese/strawberry butter, brought it to heat, and topped the scallops with that. The strawberries were over the top but I've been experimenting with using them now and then and they add a decadently sweet snarl to the lime and bleu cheese butter.
Then last night, Madeleina had friends over to make a video commercial for their drama class. The project was supposed to run about two hours long, but by six or so, and not nearly done, Madeleina asked me to make them dinner.
So I took a pound of good hot sausages from the freezer and ran them under hot water for a few minutes, then put them in a pot of water and brought that to a boil to get them cooked.
In another pot I brought salted water to a boil and cooked a pound of fucilli.
In a third pot I put small pieces of fresh broccoli, cauliflower, zuccini and yellow squash to start them cooking. When they were al dente I took them off and cooled them in a colander, then put two big handfuls of spinach in the still hot water for a minute. Then I took that off.
I put a big sauce pan on the stove, loaded in three heaping tablespoons of that garlic in olive oil I always have on hand and added a diced red onion to it. When that was going good I added four diced Roma tomatoes and six cleaned and diced scallions. Then I took the sausages off the fire and sliced them, then tossed them into the pan with the garlic/onions/tomatoes/scallions. When the sausage slices browned, I added the veggies, a can of good chicken stock and--okay, I'm cheating here--a family-sized can of cream of chicken soup.
I let things get married in the pan, then tossed in some parmesan cheese for a bit of bite.
When the sauce was ready I mixed it with the pasta and voila! A nice dish.
Okay, you have permission to try those at home. They're freaking fabulous.
Bon appetit! everyone.

What a Coward Does

So, in response to the 600 pound rat that ran across my feet, I put four huge glue traps in the attic crawl space. Damned thing fought three of them, won the cheese from all, left me enough hair on the glue to make three wigs and walked away full. So I did the next best thing: I got two little female cats from the pound. The damned rat outweighs them by hundreds of pounds, but I'm hoping the smell of the cats will make the rat run away. And if that doesn't work, at least I can sleep again, knowing that the rat, no matter how big and bold, isn't going to walk into a room where two kittens of about 12-weeks old each are sleeping on me.
So there. That's the cowards way out. And I'm not ashamed. Well, I am. But who cares. I had to do something and feeding two felines for the next 15 years at a cost of about $2 a day is nothing compared to having a rat free ceiling. Or something.
Have a good night everyone. I know I will.
Ahhhhh....the sweet smell of rat-killing cats... .

So A Rat Just Ran Across My Feet...

Okay, so a huge rat, maybe 600 pounds, just ran across my freaking feet while I was getting nails to shore up a small hole in the ceiling. So, as I'm a freaking baby around rats--and I thought I got over it when I woke once and a rat was biting my hand and I flung it against a wall (thought I'd killed it but no such luck, they're very tough little guys)--I immediately called Italo, whom I met on the highway this afternoon at 70 MPH when he pulled up on me suddenly and gave me a great big "YEAH!" fist--but he was too tired. So he sent Marco, who took a plunger to trap the poor thing--swear to god the thing was way way way bigger than a plunger, length wise, though I know I'm exaggerating. Marco couldn't find him. Damn.
So now the thing is back in the attic--or there are more than one, which generally happens--and Marco just put up a board on the hole in the ceiling which will prevent the damned thing from falling on me, at least temporarily. So Marco, who is the bravest guy around rats you ever saw, was laughing at me: "Dad, you're not afraid of caiman or anacondas or vipers. You're not afraid to give people ayahuasca and you can handle it when they go temporarily nuts. You wipe their rear ends when they shit themselves. You take on patients that you don't even know and try to help them. But you're a freaking sissy around rats. Why is that?"
What the heck am I going to tell him? He's right. I'm just afraid because I got afraid as a kid, and when it comes to rats, I'm like 6-years old. I just can't handle it. I've thought of it as Catholic devil images--I was raised pretty good Catholic and a lot of images of the devil had rats around his feet--and I've thought of it a million other ways. No helping it: I'm a coward in the face of six ounce rats. Clare and I were in Seville, Spain, one night 28 years ago and a rat ran across the street in front of us and I swear it had three mid-sections, big enough to have 75 babies, and if you don't believe me ask Clare--and that was the end of Seville for me, even in front of my woman I didn't have courage.
Damn. Wish I was braver. Wish I had guts. But sometimes I just don't. And rats are one, many, of those times.
And Marco won't even stay for dinner, which I was hoping he would so he could kill the rat when it exposes itself. And he won't sleep here because his sometimes girlfriend might just put a little grace on him.
So I'm alone.
If Madeleina was here I'd be the big guy, protecting her. But she's not. She slept at Mom's last night and is getting her hair cut right now so I have no one to show off to. In which case I revert to being the freaking chicken that I am.
Damn. More than you wanted to know, right? I mean, P Gorman is supposed to have some spine.
Most of the time I'm the best. Bring rats in to walk across my feet and you'll find out the weak points for sure.
Ah, life, you have a way of undressing me that I find uncomfortable. But then, that's my weakness to work on. Thanks for the opportunity, though I hate getting it.

Follow Up Questions about Ayahuasca from a Stranger

So the stranger from the previous post has asked a few more questions about ayahuasca. I've told him that this should be the last of them because it takes a long time to answer. Actually, I like being asked once I'm through answering, because sometimes strangers can ask questions that nobody has asked before and it's fun to try to come up with a legitimate response from my experience.
So here are his newest questions. My answers follow each.

1.) Let us say that one has developed certain abilities of extrasensory perception through Ayahuasca (e.g. clearly seeing the spirit world, seeing the internal organs of a human body, etc.) and a long apprenticeship with a qualified, traditional shaman. And then it happens that for a numbers of year one cannot return back to the Amazon and stays in Europe not being able to consume ayahuasca.

Do then these abilities of extrasensory perception remain completely intact or must one always consume ayahuasca to keep them active?

ANSWER: I don't know that you, or I, or any other curandero, develops any special abilities. I believe the spirits give you the juice, the ability to have those "powers" temporarily, as you need them. Therefore, so long as you and the spirits were friends, I think you would be able to access those "powers" when you need them. Even without returning to the Amazon or drinking more ayahuasca. But if you abuse your spirit friends, if you use their juice, their power, selfishly, I believe you'll stop being able to get those powers when you need them. I think people who fall into the brujeria trap find this out: They may have strong powers of negativity for a while but eventually lose all their juice and boy, isn't there hell to pay when that happens!
In terms of the kinds of "powers" I've been lent, here are a couple of examples: Once, when Italo badly dislocated his ankle and some foot bones, Chepa, my ex, told me to fix it. I said I couldn't. She said the spirits would help and that she knew I could do it. So I looked at Italo's ankle and foot and for just a second it seemed like I had X-ray vision. And I saw what was wrong and how to fix it. Of course I was terrified that I'd just break his bones but something let me try and I twisted, pushed, popped and pulled and by luck everything went back into place. He was up and playing again in no time.
Now I don't have the power of X-ray vision and I don't know how to set bones so complicated that have been dislocated. But in that moment of emergency, I was lent that juice.
However, if I ever hung a shingle outside that read: Bone Setter I'm sure I'd never have that juice or power again. Remember the key words, or at least the key words I was given: Use it, don't abuse it, or lose it.
Then there was the time, not long after the spirits told me that I would always have enough work so long as I did the work well, when we were broke. The electric company was sending a man out to cut off the electricity. Madeleina, then maybe 6-years old or 7-years old, was incensed. "The spirits told you they'd take care of us. They have to!"
I told her the spirits had said I'd have the work--and I had gotten a lot--but they never promised to make editors pay on time.
She didn't buy it.
So the electric guy came to shut us down and Madeleina was wild. I finally asked the guy if it would be possible to wait 15 minutes just to appease her. And then when a miracle didn't happen in 15 minutes, he could shut us down. He began talking about some shrubs along my property line--his way of stalling a few minutes.
And then, out of the blue, I mean out of the blue, a Fed Ex or some other special delivery truck roars past our house; in two minutes he's coming back our way and pulls into the driveway. He hands me an envelope. In it was a check for a story I'd done and been paid for probably a year earlier. And it wasn't just a check, it was a freaking bank check. It was truly a miracle. And I never saw that driver before or after. I don't even know if it was a real person or just a spirit visit.
But I then asked the electric guy if he could come back in a little while and I'd go cash it and pay him in cash. He said okay and Madeleina just screamed with joy, thanking the spirits for coming through.
Could I make that happen again? Was it my power? Not a chance. I was lent that extraordinary moment by spirits.
Back to your quesiton: I don't believe people get extraordinary abilities--abilities like you're imagining. But I believe that the spirits help us out sometimes. So remain friends with them, however you can do that, if you ever get the chance to meet one or more of them. I think they help everybody all the time, even if they didn't drink ayahuasca. Just imagine how many times you might have been just about to step into the street when something simply stopped you and in that second a car you had not seen roars by. And if you had not been stopped, bam, you'd be dead.
So I think they help us a lot. I just think it's neat to get to meet them and be able to communicate with them a little.

2.) You wrote:
"And then there is Hector, a Q'ero from high in the Andes. I've never had San Pedro with him but I have seen is impossible powers."

I don't want to sound like a miracle monger, but may I ask what are these impossible powers and in what way do they manifest?

ANSWER: Hector changes me just by giving me a hug. Sometimes I break out crying, other times I just beam with joy. He's one of the special ones. Impossible powers? Well, in ceremony one night, a San Pedro ceremony that he was not running but he had done the offrenda, the offering to PachaMama prior to the ceremony, at the Temple of the Moon outside of Cuzco, three people tried to interrupt the ceremony. They were loud, vulgar. They'd driven a car right up to the place, burned rubber. Two women and a man, I think. Drunk. Actually, under the influence of the medicine I thought they were just mean spirits upset that so many people were drinking good medicine.
They kept their distance at first, just yelling, cursing, asking what kind of sex we were having, farting loudly, burping very loudly. Just crude all the way. But the man was huge. Huge. I was wondering how I was going to take him down. It was my group, after all, and so my job.
And then suddenly, the three of them were at the entrance to the cave in the Temple of the Moon and about to enter. Hector was sitting next to me, outside on a rock, maybe 30 feet from the door. I got up to stop them from entering the Temple, where an alter had been set up and some guests were still receiving medicine. But as I got up, I turned to Hector: He wasn't there. He was standing directly in front of the Temple entrance. He had one hand up, palm open, like a universal stop sign. How he had gotten there I don't know. Either amazing aikido or magic, because he'd been sitting next to me a split-second earlier.
And the man looked like he was going to crush Hector--who's pretty good sized himself. And the women were loudly egging him on. Hector didn't say a word. But his hand was an impossible force for the man and the women. They couldn't cross it and finally slunk away silently.
That was an amazing display.
Later that night, as we all sat around a fire burning the offrenda, the offering to PachaMama, he asked me for a cigarette. I got it and was going to give him my lighter, but before I could he reached into the fire and picked up a red hot stone and lit his cigarette with that. Then lit a cigarette for me with the same stone. And he didn't burn his hands. And the hair on his arm didn't burn despite having been in the fire.
When he saw my consternation he simply said that as a baby his mother had given him the gifts of fire and ice and so those spirits were his friends and wouldn't hurt him. I believe him.
So that's the sort of thing Hector can do. And if you go to Cuzco and are supposed to meet him, you will. He will be where he is supposed to be. Have confidence.

2B) You spoke about many San Pedro curanderos you know. What about powerful Ayahuasca curanderos? Are there still any living curanderos of Don Julion Llerena (Jerena)'s calibre around? Really powerful and knowledgeable Banca Ayahuasqeros?
Further you said:
"Julio, Pablo and Bertha have all passed."
What about Pablo's friend, Manuel? Is he still alive? I believe he was also of the Matses tribe.
Are there still Matses around who would have such power and knowledge in spiritual matters as Pablo had? I mean, being able talking to animals, insects, plants, etc. and doing all other extraordinary things.

ANSWER: I'm sure there are wonderful curanderos around. Julio was my teacher and so he is whom I spent most of my time with. But there are many good curanderos. I can't evaluate calibre. For the worse have great days when the spirits really help them, and even the best generally have a rotten day now and then and the spirits don't seem to be around to help them at all. When it's time to find one you will.
One of Pablo's sons was named Manuel. His best friend, Alberto, is also extraordinary, but much less accessable than Pablo.
I think the Matses are losing their special abilities. I think that when they depended on them to stay alive, many had an uncanny, to say the least, understanding of the forest and the creatures that live there. But as modern times and things are incorporated into their lifestyle they depend less on those powers and so they lose them--or they stop communicating with those spirits and become estranged.
Don't get me wrong: They are still magic in the forest compared to most everybody else. But I don't think anyone who doesn't fully depend on hunting will be as good a hunter as one who does depend on hunting to stay alive. And the same with needing to communicate with the spirits of the jungle.

3.) Is it possible to acquire through ayahuasca (OR ANY OTHER MASTER TEACHER PLANT) perfect command of any human language one desires? EXAMPLE: Let us say that I want to study Tibetan, but there is no possibility of doing so in my country. Can ayahuasca (OR ANY OTHER MASTER TEACHER PLANT) teach and grant full command of Tibetan (classical and modern, spoken and written)? Or can the plant lead you to spirit teachers who can do so?

ANSWER: I don't know. I was never given that gift. And the only time I was given a book in an ayahuasca dream--a huge metal book with metal pages into which the words/images had been etched--I couldn't read it at all. So maybe, but not in my experience. Heck, they haven't even let me get my Spanish up to speed after all these years!

4.) Can ayahuasca (OR ANY OTHER MASTER TEACHER PLANT) reveal and teach about the healing properties of plants, which exist for instance only in India or Japan and nowhere else in the world? Can ayahuasca (OR ANY OTHER MASTER TEACHER PLANT) help you find a plant with specific effects such as extending human life?

ANSWER: Again, going from my experience, and knowing I'm not a curandero, I can only tell you what my experience has been: When I was shown a huge market with spirit plants in it, I wondered what the heck I was supposed to learn there. I mean, I don't know that much about plants and this spirit plant market was full of boxes of live and dried plant material. I had no idea what the purpose was in bringing me there. The guardian who had brought me heard my unasked question and told me just to shout out a disease or disorder. I did, and immediately a couple of plants jumped up and shouted what they were. I think at least one of them had a sign with its name written in English as well. So that's how I was to use that plant market.
Now, here in the US, once in a while someone asks me to go there to try to find a solution to a problem they're having. And on those occasions where it was possible to visit, nearly all the plants that respond are plants you can get here in the United States. Someone with a serious immune deficiency asked for help. I sent them una de gato, which I knew would work, but they refused to drink it. So I went back to the market and this time the shout that came up was Collard Greens! Half a cup a day!
Which was ridiculous, of course, until I looked up collard greens and discovered that they have amazing powers for bolstering immune deficiencies.
If I was in Peru and that question was asked, I'm sure a Peruvian plant would have been the one shouting its name. But what would be the point of being told of a plant that could have helped that person that they couldn't get hold of?
I imagine Julio, however he got his plant knowledge, was pretty much always given plants to heal that he could reasonably easily go out and collect. And if you moved Julio to Japan, I think he'd come up with Japanese plants, even if he had no prior knowledge of them.
But if you are asking whether I ever met anyone who could just go into a dream and study plants in another locale, no, I never heard of that. Doesn't mean it's not possible, just something I never heard of.
As to plants that extend human life, I don't know of any, other than a good diet full of garlic and onions and spinach and carrots and broccoli and all sorts of good veggies and fruits. Those things will keep you healthy a long time. But something specific like a fountain of youth for real, like in a novel? No, don't know of it, and I don't think Julio or Bertha or Pablo had either, as they've all passed.

Have a great day, everybody!

Answers to Three Questions Raised by a Stranger

Yesterday, someone I never met wrote to tell me they thought my pgorman.com website had good information about ayahuasca. The person followed that up with these questions:

"I am greatly interested in ayahauasca as a tool for obtaining knowledge regarding healing plants and animals, the spirit-world existing parallel to ours and cleansing and healing generally - all conducted in a traditional way. I am not interested in any ayahuasca tourism or "feel-good trips" or curiosity mongering.

"But let me come straight to the point or I should rather say questions.

"1.) Let us say that a person has through apprenticeship become an ayahuasqero or curandero. Then he leaves the Amazon and moves to a place outside of South America, where neither ayahuasca nor other "teacher plants" are available. Let us further presume that he does not ingest ayahuasca nor any other psychoactive plants for 10 years.

"Will this man still retain his healing abilities, extrasensory perception, the ability to commune with the spirit-world, etc. or will he gradually loose all those abilities acquired through the years of his training as a curandero until nothing is left anymore?

"The point I am trying to make here is the following one: does ayahuasca awaken these abilities for good and then they remain with the curandero, even if he never again takes ayahuasca or will he forever remain dependent on ayahuasca as a mean to exercise his power?

"2.) Who was the most powerful and knowledgeable shaman or curandero that you ever met in your life (be it mestizo or a full-blood native one)? Is this person still alive?

"3.) The following question may sound odd, but can ayahuasca (or any other teacher plant, like san pedro, etc.) awaken the ability of seeing into the near-term future (about 10 or 14 days in advance) with perfect accuracy? EXAMPLE: Let us say that you want to know what will happen at a such-and-such place in Cuzco on November 20th this year."

Me Responding:
I waited a day to answer because I didn't want to go off half-cocked. Tonight I answered him. Tomorrow I might revise my answers but this is what came to me when I thought about the questions for a while. Mulled them over, so to say.
DEAR X:
Thanks for writing. Here's my take: When you make friends with the spirits, individual spirits that can help us in this realm because they are not constrained by freaking bodies--but at the same time are allured by our bodies--they are like any other friends: If you don't communicate for 10 years there will be an estrangement. That's just life.
The way it was taught to me, by those spirits, was that they would help me, but the deal was:
"Use it, don't abuse it, or lose it." That meant, they would supply a little extra power when needed, but I couldn't use it selfishly, or ignore it, or I would lose it. They would stop supplying it.
Spirits are beings too. They like attention as much as any other being. So if you abuse them or ignore them, they'll leave. They had full lives before they met you and will have full lives after you are gone from their lives.
Now, your question was, if you didn't drink ayahuasca in 10 years would you lose the gifts those spirits give. Not a good question, I don't think. I think that if you did not talk with those spirits--and you don't need the ayahuasca once you know them and they know you--for 10-years--it would be like any other friend: You no longer know each other. But if you didn't drink ayahuasca but remained in contact with those spirits through prayer/song/contemplation/meditation or however you did it, well, I think they'd still be your friends and offer you the gifts they initially gave you. Make sense?
Second question: Who was the most powerful shaman or curandero I ever met? My answer is my teacher, Julion Llerena (Jerena). He was a wonderful fisherman who raised his family properly and healed people daily. He never asked for anything that I know of, For all his strength he was tiny, had been shot twice in wars while with the Peruvian army, and was so so decent.
But then Bertha Grove, whom I wrote about in a series of articles for High Times in the late 1980s about the Native American Church, was brilliant. And then Pablo, the Matses headman who never heard the word curandero or shaman, well, he could probably talk with insects and have them talk back to him. He knew every plant in his part of the rainforest, had named them all, and could utilize them all.
Julio, Pablo and Bertha have all passed.
And then there is Victor Estrada and Kucho both of whom are very much alive. They are San Pedro curanderos. Kucho is young but learning well and very strong. Victor is my age, about 60, and though he's become very famous of late because of appearing in dozens of documentaries about San Pedro curing, he remains a force of nature once he enters ceremony. He is just a luminous shape-shifter and healer.
And then there is Hector, a Q'ero from high in the Andes. I've never had San Pedro with him but I have seen his impossible powers. He's my pal, in the best sense of the word, and in 10 more years might be the strongest curandero of them all.
And there are others. But this is a short list to help answer your question.
As to your third question: Can ayahuasca or San Pedro or other teacher plants open you up to know what will happen within say a two-week period?
I hesitate to answer that. Why? Because the answer is yes, but at the same time to call on those teachers to do that generally indicates a selfish desire, which is where we head into the turf of brujeria---the selfish end of curing. While it might be alright to wish that a friend gets through a difficult time in two weeks, for instance, it would be very selfish and probably very wrong to push the universe to do that. Or to allow you to see an outcome, thereby making it a done deal before it happens. I would suggest staying away from anything like that. To me, looking into the future would violate the "use it, don't abuse it, or lose it" dictum I was given. Maybe one day the spirits will change that dictum but until then, I certainly would not think of trying to ask a spirit to give me a hint of what will happen in the future other than maybe a direction to head in for the next layer of work.
And that's what I'm thinking about in terms of those three questions this Wednesday night, just before a thunderstorm hits us here in bucolic Joshua, Texas.
Have a great night, everybody.

One of the Things the OWS Crowd is Protesting

People often ask, on various forums I visit, what the hell the Occupy Wall Street crowd actually wants? Those people are used to specific demands: Better pay, less hours, no more sexual advances from bosses and so forth. And the Wall Street occupiers are not always vocally adept at explaining what the problem is. But I'll tell you what the problem is, at least in small part. It was about banks, being told they were making too much off credit card and debit card swipes that stores had to give up to them, deciding to charge people for using debit cards to access their own money. These are banks that are not paying a penny on the billions of dollars in checking accounts they regularly loan for good interest. So they make money on your interest, and then they decided to charge people for using their cards to get their money. Well, with enough of a spot light on them, Bank of America, and a couple of others, decided to table that fee at this time. Let's be honest: They won't lose sleep over losing a couple of billion in lost fees to stores for the right to use debit cards. Because there would be many many more billions lost if people didn't shop with debit cards--and go overdraft at $35-$39 per.
Then some people ask "Show me a banker who committed fraud. You guys want to put bankers and Wall Street bigwigs in jail, but for what? Show me the crime!"
And the easiest answer is Wachovia, recently eaten by Wells Fargo. Between 2003 or 2004 (and I will look it up if you challenge me because I've written about this in 10 freaking places) and 2007 or 2008, Wachovia admitted not putting anti-money-laundering processes in place. Which means what? It means that in those four years, whenever they started and ended, Wachovia accepted, from Mexico, $374 or so BILLION dollars into the United States. Now, let's be honest: Does anybody think that the poor farmers and malquiladora workers in Mexico were sending more than 1/3 TRILLION dollars into the US to help support their illegal relatives who made it here?
I didn't think so.
So what was that money?
Well, it turned out that that money, $374 or so BILLION dollars, about One Hundred Billion dollars a year, was being sent by mom and pop money senders in Mexico to Wachovia--which charged a fee to accept it, of course.
That was all drug money. ALL OF IT. Not one penny has ever been sent from Mexico to the US from family to family legally. Money gets sent from Mexican workers in the US to Mexico, not the other way around.
And Wachovia admitted they ignored the anti-money-laundering rules to make a profit. And then they paid a total of $178 or so Million for the transgression, without anyone going to jail for the $374 billion in laundered money.
That's the kind of greed the OWS and me and a lot of you are protesting. If I sold five books on paypal and customers didn't get them I'd go to jail for interstate fraud. Launder, and admit you laundered, $374 BILLION dollars for the drug cartels and get fined $178 or so million.
That's corporate greed. That's tactile. That money would have fed everyone in the world for 10 freaking years.
And then there's the hot story on Huffington Post today, explaining that since the US govt decided to give people on unemployment and other worker or government subsidized programs (I say that because I hate when people refer to Social Security or Medicaid or unemployment as a government hand out when we pay weekly for those) their due monies on debit cards that are recharged monthly, banks are charging people to use them. Which means if say, you work for $500 a week, and then get laid off and then get maybe $250 a week in unemployment insurance that you paid for--along with your boss, nothing from government--and you make more than 4 transactions per month (Mortgage, car, electric, water, insurance, is five, and most people have double that), the bank might take $1.50 to $3 per additional use. The bank already is earning interest on the money put into your account which earns no interest. They got theirs. And nobody is gonna begrudge them that.
But charging you to access that money--which costs nothing, effectively, and which has already earned them interest--is a freaking rip off. And anybody who denies that is a liar.
So that's what OWS and ME are angry about. I'm angry about banks that put through the largest bills first and then tell you your 8 small charges were overdrawn, and it's gonna cost you $39 each. That's not banking. That's not loan sharking. That's beyond the pale of human decency.
So the next time somebody asks you: What the hell are the freaking Occupy Wall Street scum after, give them a copy of this post for a start. Cause this is the very basic root: Greed beyond the ken. Greed beyond belief.

A Little Help from My Friends, Please

Okay, so here's the deal. As noted a few pieces back, I just discovered the "stats" button on this blog. I guess it's been staring me in the face for four years, but I still didn't see it. What's that saying: "None are so blind as those who refuse to see?" Something like that.
So now I realize that somehow, Magic Mushrooms in India is the all-time favorite piece of people who read my blog. About 10 percent of all hits have been to that piece. But how? How the hell do you find it? I mean, you could query the right key words but what the hell would they be: Magic Mushrooms in India...maybe. But I wouldn't guess that so many people would figure that out. More consternating is that the second most read post of all time is Swim Team 101, about my single misadventure on my high school swim team--at a competition at which one of the opposing teams was buck naked with shaved balls. Who shaved their balls? Someone at a catholic high school had that as his or her job description? No wonder there are occasional problems with adults taking advantage of kids.
"No sir, I didn't abuse Jonny. I did pick up his penis and carefully shave his scrotum--very carefully--but that was my job description..."
Who applies for that job?
Okay, after that, most of the most read blogs are about ayahuasca, which is connected to my book, which you all should have read and be quoting by now, copiously, in all manner of circumstances. For instance, if someone asks "How are you?" you might answer, "I thought my head would explode if I didn't get those snakes out!"
They won't know what you mean but they'll still be impressed.
So here is the question: I have long wanted to write a book called The Dad Blog Book. It would have a nice intro to set the stage, and then be a collection of cleaned up pieces from the blog about being a dad in Texas. A single dad with an estranged wife/ex-wife, living with his kids on an acre and a half in bucolic Joshua, Texas. It would have farm animals, crazy kids, live-in 16-year-old girlfriends for 17-year old boys--my sons--and that pesky ex-wife's new babies.
I'd clean up the pieces a bit, then have an editor go over them--or four editors, as in Ayahuasca in My Blood--and I might put in a few new pieces, but it would basically be the story of a single dad trying to raise kids in the era of the blog. And a lot of those pieces have recipes in them, which I know are fantastic recipes. So that would be a plus for those people who like to cook.
Would anybody buy that?
If you answered yes, then would you sponsor it? Counting designer, art, editors it's at least $8,000 which I don't happen to have.
Okay, so no sponsors. Just trying. Let me know.
Or, should I do a book with funny stories like Swim Team 101 and Ganja on the Ganges and Lengua and Magic Mushrooms in India, What Gringos Expect from a Trip to the Amazon, Cooking a Jungle Feast and The Feast of San Gennaro?
Let me know, okay? I'm just trying to figure out where to put the energy, and since you're my most loyal readers, I thought I'd give you the option.

What I Was Thinking About in the Car Today

So I was in my car. I'd just done my exercises which Doc Gritter wants me to do to get my blood pressure down--along with the freaking meds he has me on--which was that I'd walked fast for about 2 1/2 miles. One half mile this morning in the local park, then another 1/2 half mile in the park--2000 steps--and then a trip to HEB supermarket where I park as far away from the entrance as is humanly possible--200 big steps--and then run in and out of aisles till I hit 1000 steps and then back to the car. Then to Walmart, where the parking lot is even bigger and I walk around the 5-acre building a couple of times, then shop, another 2000 steps, making 2 1/2 miles.
Okay, it's not the same as when I was younger and did 1000 crunches daily, plus 300 pushups in 75 push up bursts, plus rode my bike 15 miles daily, plus played handball 2-3 times a week for 2 hours, plus played softball with the Bonghitters from High Times twice a week during season, plus made a point of walking 15 flights of stairs a day. Okay, so I'm getting old. And I had that little heart attack. And I had that intestinal explosion that almost killed me and then the two further operations which fixed me, sort of--including a fake belly button because they had to cut the real one out, which Madeleina thinks is fantastic!--and the two flesh eating staph infections and all the rest. Wonderful freaking life, tell you the truth: You have no idea what health is till it's severely compromised. I mean, I try to run and my body just falls down. After the three major ops on my belly, my bottom half has no idea what my upper-half is doing. They just don't know each other anymore. Which is why I'm walking. I'm trying to get them to associate with one another again. Don't know if it's working and do know that I'm gonna buy a new pair of sneaks tomorrow because my feet hurt a lot--not to mention my freaking ankle where when it broke a few years ago I didn't have the cash to have the pin put in, which hurts not just a lot but a REAL lot.
I do know that walking more makes me do everything more vividly. More intentionally. I don't just stand up, I STAND UP and walk to the bathroom or the laundry room. I don't lollygag while shopping, I race through it.
And I cough a lot. I think I'm getting rid of a lot of stuff that could give me cancer, which I don't want, but still smoke two packs a day, so am probably pushing that envelope more than I should.
So today, after my walking, I was driving to Two Bucks, my liquor store. It's 23 miles from my house, and is the nearest one to my dry county. In the last couple of years, Johnson County--along interstate 35, the place where all the drugs from Mexico through Laredo are stored until they're broken up for shipments across the midwest--has allowed the sale of beer and wine at a few select places, and the sale of drinks at 3-4 bars owned by the local judges, but if you want a bottle of bourbon or vodka, you still have to drive to the next county, Tarrant, to get one.
So I drive there daily at the end of my errands to buy my 4 minis (1.6 ounces, each) of bourbon and then drive home. And on the way home I drink part of one of them. And I often wonder what a cop would do if he found me with an "open bottle" in the car--a big no-no here in Texas--and if that open bottle happened to be just the size of one drink. I mean, how the heck would he present that to a judge? "Your honor, this man had an open bottle, which I confiscated, while driving." And then when he showed the judge a bottle that contained 3/4 of 1/6 ounces, how would the judge rule? It's not the same as having a liter in your lap, know what I mean?
Anyway, I was driving to Two Bucks liquor store and realized I was going 70 in a 65 MPH zone. I slowed down. My 4-cylinder was probably breathing heavy at that speed anyway. But for a second I imagined a cop coming up on me and stopping me and coming to my window and asking "What's your hurry, old man?"
And these were a few of the answers I imagined responding with, none of which would probably have gone over well:
"Well, officer, the bottle of bourbon in the glove compartment is almost empty and I was trying to make it to the liquor store before it closed."
"Well, officer, I just stole this freaking car and I'm trying to get as far away from the scene of the crime and I can as fast as I can."
"My freaking wife is annoying me to death, so I'm trying to get to the gun show to pick up a throw-away piece."
"I'm gonna be Jonesing real soon if I can't get my hand on some meth in the next few minutes."
"I'm short just a little fertilizer for the back yard bomb I'm making and the damned garden center closes in 15 minutes!"
"One of my halogen bulbs burned out and my poor pot plants are gonna freeze if I don't get another hot bulb in that grow room soon."
"I left the six-month old alone while I went drinking and suddenly realized it's been a couple of hours. I'm sure the pit bull took care of her, but then I remembered I forgot to leave the pit bull's food out..."
"I'm trying to get to your house to have sex with your wife and realized you've only got a couple of hours left on your shift..."
"Just wanted to see what sort of speed the cars my tax dollars paid for your car could get..."
Have a great night, everybody.

Probably the Only List You'll Ever Get from Me

Okay, so I'm not a big list guy. At least not a guy who writes down lists. When I go to Peru, for instance, I don't make a list of things to pack. I just get stuff washed and then pack the night before I'm going, or sometimes on the morning I'm leaving. When I have to re-up my medical kit for myself and my guests, I look through it, see what's old or what I'm low on, then go to the pharmacy and buy it.
The biggest challenge is getting ready to head to the jungle. To muster stores and equipment and particularly fresh food for 60-75 meals a day for a week takes a lot of thought. But I just stuff it in my head, imagine everyone needing to eat and then picture what they might like to eat, then head to the market to buy it.
It's chancy, I know, but I'm generally on the money and have a little left over in both dry goods and produce to give to the staff and jungle neighbors.
Now I do keep one list for myself: My monthly bills. When I get them and pay them, I put a check next to them for that month. It's just a little sheet of yellow paper with the words "mortgage, car insurance, home depot, IRS, water, electric, phone, television" on it and the faster I check them off the better I feel.
But for some odd reason, during the last few weeks I've been a bit off kilter. I'm getting a lot of work done but also wasting a lot of time. So I thought that to remedy that I ought to make a list of things I need to do daily. And I think it's a pretty good list so I'm gonna share it with you. And then maybe I'll write a book based on the list called IMPROVE YOUR WORTHLESS SELF LIST BOOK or something. Just kidding.
So here's the list of things to take care of daily:
Take care of intellect (read/consider)
Take care of family
Take care of work
Take care of spirituality
Take care of body
Take care of business
Take care of fun
Take care of friends
And when I do all that stuff--even if it's small stuff, like bringing lunch for Madeleina and snacks for Sierra and Alexa to Chepa's house at 7 AM--well, it feels like a good day's work. Today's work, for instance, was collecting info and doing a couple of interviews for a story I've nearly got done and will finish over the weekend. Today's business was wrangling with the local tax collector over what I think is a lousy appraisal (no clear winner yet) and in a few minutes going into my weekly alternative newspaper and picking up my check.
On the way I'll take care of body with walking a couple of miles to get the blood going.
So there it is. The only list you'll probably ever get from me, but it's a good one.

House Full of Empty

So a friend and I, she's in the same business as me, but in the magazine editing end of it--and she's brilliant, were feeling a little blue that we live so far apart that she can't just stop over and bitch about a new issue or whatever now and then. Because we talk well together. And I noted that further than that, I don't have any friends nearby my house here in bucolic Joshua. I do have my family, and that's the bomb, but they're not always here. This is how it was the other day.
On the other hand, Chepa has been busy with some legal papers for one of her sisters for about two weeks, so I've been taking Sierra to school and picking her up a lot and that's been a lot of fun. Not tonight, as I've come back from Walmart to find no one here. When I left, Italo was sleeping, Taylor, his daughter, was climbing on him with a large bag of tiny marshmallows close to her breast; Sierra and Madeleina were talking about the fish we just fed with a good loaf of bread at the new local park. I still had to do my walking and shopping, so I left for an hour and then came home to a house full of empty. In New York that probably wouldn't have happened unless I wanted it to happen.
Oh, well, it's just life. But I used to love coming home from driving a cab and seeing Clare and Chuck, who initially stayed with Phil and I, and then lived next door with Suzy and Eli, and Chuck and I would just spend an hour blowing a joint talking about our fares for the night. Never seemed to get old because each fare was a bit different. As is each story, each issue, each problem.
So I'm gonna throw some chicken thighs on, and a little basmati rice with garlic and then some asparagus or spinach, or maybe a fresh cucumber. I'll see when it's time for that.
If I had a choice, the house would be quiet in the day and then jam packed at night.
Have a good one, everybody.

With Sierra

Okay, I'm gonna tell you, if you don't already know, that I love my ex-wife Chepa's babies. I adore Sierra and Alexa. And though they're not mine, I love them like they were. And those of you who have read this blog know about the time she came running after me screaming, "I have a bike...I'm putting on my shoes...P Garman, wait for me..." while my son Italo, who needed time with me, said, "Dad, if you bring Sierra, I'm not going anywhere." That was one of the cruelest moments of my life and still bites me like a viper whenever I think of it. I let that child beg for my company, beg to be included and left her out.
I had to, because Italo needed my time that day. But I still feel the pain.
So now when I have the chance, I take it with her. For the last couple of weeks I've been going over to Chepa's at 7:15 AM so that the kids can see/hug me, and then I take Sierra to school. I can never make up for that day two years ago. I'm sure she'll go to a psychologist some day to say she feels abandoned, though the won't remember why, but I will. Because she was.
On the other hand, when I pick her up from school, she's just like any other 5-year old. She wants attention, things, food, drink.
Today was no exception. I was finishing a story that's going to press tonight when Chepa called to say she was stuck in Fort Worth and could I pick Sierra up. Instantly my heart leapt, then fell. Yes I could, but no I couldn't. Work demanded I be home for rewrite. Still, with Chepa unable, I would have to go.
Fortunately, my boss called with the rewrite notes 40 minutes before Sierra got out of school. So I did the rewrite and got there a little late. But once with her, Sierra acted like a spoiled kid. She demanded to ride on one of those carts that are so big you can't manouver in the aisles. And we did. And we bought things like marshmallows that I never buy. And toys. And other stuff. And you know what? When I started to get fed up I just laughed at myself. Cause she's Sierra a 5-year old who came out of my wife's belly, and even though she's not mine we're closer than two threads in a carpet. So I laughed at myself for getting uptight, then cut loose and started laughing with her.
Sometimes you just have to let the rules go.

Just Showing Off

Okay, just a silly post here. My book, Ayahuasca in My Blood--25 Years of Medicine Dreaming, generally occupies a place on Amazon.com in the Shamanism section somewhere between the top 35 and 100 books. When it falls below the top 100 I sort of panic. Can't do anything about it, just panic that no one will ever buy another copy. But then there are days like today, when it's at #9 in the Shamanism group and about #23,000 of all the few million books they have for sale. So there it is. I'm hot today. That's cool, I think.
I hope you're all hot at what you're doing as well. Hope you're all having a great great time.

Becoming a Shaman

Someone new to a forum on which I occasionally post has been asking to be put in touch with a real shaman so that he can finish a process of death/rebirth that he is sure he not only needs but which will make him a shaman. I've watched this post and the responses for a couple of weeks and didn't add my useless two cents till today. Today he finally said that he's 19 years old and has been having difficulty fitting into his world for two years, though he says he's had shamanic events in his life pointing toward becoming a shaman for years. I don't doubt him. He seems like a genuine person. But at the same time he's a genuine 19-year old, and, well, because I'm old I'm allowed to say that all 19 year olds are torn between this and that. (I'd add that most 60-year olds are as well, but you all already knew that.)
So today I decided to toss my useless two cents in and here they are. I guess I waited till my heart responded, rather than the dad in me...

Two years? Heck, I've been doing this for 30 some odd years, the last 27 with ayahuasca and San Pedro, with marvelous teachers to guide me. I've been dead and reborn 20 times and I'm just a little baby when it comes to shamanism or being a shaman. This sort of work can garner overnight results in a lot of healing ways, but I don't know that death and rebirth solve anything for the individual--particularly in genuine clarity. I think the experience cleans out a lot of rubbish and gives you a kickstart but you remain you--or at least I remained me--and that meant with each cleansing and heart/eyes more wide open, I simply saw more things to repair....I will root for you but don't want you thinking that if you can get to the death/rebirth with a genuine shaman and genuine and wonderful medicine that it will be an end of any sort. It's more likely to be a new beginning and one fraught with even more difficult realities than what you're currently working with. Which is fine, because you may also have an extra dollop of strength to deal with that new reality. But then after the next death, rebirth, the next hill is higher still....If I ever met anyone who reached the highest mountain, they certainly didn't tell me. Because in the end, even shaman are just fishermen or bankers or wives and mothers and fathers who have to pay bills, change flat tires, get annoyed at kids...it's just living and living wonderfully. Be joyful if you can, every day that you're allowed to wake up and see the white magic illuminating the world, the green magic coursing through the verdancia, the red magic pumping the blood through your veins, and the black magic, the magnetic power of the universe, holding it all together in a way you can appreciate.
Good luck. You've a wonderful journey ahead of you.

In the Supermarket

Okay: This is the second post of the day, just seconds after the first. But something happened that I missed by just three minutes and I am so angry with myself for not seeing it and taking care of it that I want to write it out so that I will not forget next time.
I was in a grocery store and in front of me on line was a nice young woman--I later found out she's a local teacher, though not at my daughter Madeleina's school--who had bought a bunch of what was obviously going to be dinner. She had lettuce, onions, garlic, a big tomato, some chopped meat, a small sour cream and a can of refried beans, a can of red salsa and some tortillas. So she was a mom going home to make a fast and inexpensive dinner for her husband/kids.
Well, she paid with a check but didn't have her driver's licence so the store wouldn't accept it. She did have her Burleson, TX teacher's badge, with her picture, but the store wouldn't accept it.
She was very embarrassed when a manager was called over and she was told they knew her but corporate wouldn't let them accept a check without a driver's license.
I waited patiently in line, and when she apologized I told her not to sweat it, this sort of thing happens to everyone.
And a few minutes later, when the lady's order was cancelled and I was finished and in my car it suddenly hit me that I should have just paid for the lady's groceries. It was a lousy $14 bucks or so. I just didn't think of it till I was already in my car.
So now I feel like a schmuck for not paying more attention. That poor lady went home without dinner and then probably had to go back out to rebuy that food to feed her kids, and I could have handled it for her if I'd just been thinking more clearly and less selfishly. Dammit. I hate catching myself messing up.
Next time I come on that sort of thing, I will try to remember to simply handle it.

Somebody Asked...So Here's My Answer

Someone I don't know got hold of me today--not unusual--and suggested that if the ayahuasca dieta called for no salt or sugar--because the spirits are slightly repelled by those things, among others--then why do we need salt or sugar in real life when not on an ayahuasca dieta?
I answered the best I could. Maybe tomorrow I'd answer differently, but here's what I wrote:

Dear X: The human body needs salt. It retains the water in your system, keeping the fluids in your body inside your body. And good salt--I mean real sea salt, which is expensive--has a lot of trace minerals and so forth in it. Without enough water in your system, down goes the electrolyte system and then you can't think straight. Fruits and their natural sugars replenish those electrolytes--as, to a certain extent, does sea salt.
So, in a perfect world, you might get what you need salt-and-sugar-wise from eating fruits and, like a lot of Amazon indigenous, getting their salt from eating salt-heavy clay--just like a lot of US southerners eat a couple of handfuls of dirt now and then.
But we live in a world where we are constantly bombarded with information to all our senses and so we need much more salt/electrolytes/natural sugar than hunter/gatherers ever did. Most people on the river that I know, even now, work hard three/four hours daily and then don't work at all most days. Westerners like myself get up at 5 AM, read newspapers, feed animals, get kids ready for school, drive to school, get work done for 8-10 hours, go to the store, buy food, make food, feed kids, get laundry done and so forth--a reasonably full 16 hour day, 7 days a week most of the time. So our needs are simply different.
Now, you got to know that I eat maybe two burgers from Sonic a year. No fries or soft drinks ever. Fresh fish or mussels/scallops three times a week, a little chicken--maybe a thigh or a quarter of a large breast--a couple of times a week, and then beef maybe once a week. Maybe eggs once a week. Rice with garlic a couple of times a week, bread maybe once a week or twice if I'm dying for comfort food, fresh corn, 4-5 helpings of veggies daily, lots of garlic, lots of onion, spinach, tomatoes, green beans, asparagus, zuccini, yellow squash, broccoli, cauliflower.
If I didn't drink at all I'd be in great shape. Happen to like my little bit of bourbon most days and a couple of glasses of wine. I also drink Una de Gato with Sacha Jergon pretty religiously--just a couple of ounces daily, but it keeps immune system up and keeps the liver clean.
Do I need a lot of salt? Not really. But there is a little good sea salt in the water in which I steam veggies, even if I don't add it later. And always a bit of salt on fish, beef, chicken, though it's down from what it was five years ago and that's down from what it was 25 years ago. I don't exercise as much so I don't need as much.
But I have to hold my ground on what I say about the dieta. If Amaringo was told by his spirits that they don't like salt or sugar, then that's perfect for him. The spirits that hang around me want me to indulge in everything. They're freaking rock 'n rollers who want to taste, touch, feel things to the extreme. They hate it that I don't drink so much anymore. They hate it that I've cut down on cigarettes. They can't believe I have not done cocaine for nearly 30 years.
The spirits that hang near me want the visceral. They don't have bodies and cannot feel the physical. So they want to step into my body and feel it all. And I mean all of it. Just for a second or two.
And they love salt and sugar (which I hardly ever have) and wish I would do more, just so they could experience it.
So, lesson? Different people, different spirits. And each spirit wants a different thing from a human host, even if we're just hosts for a little while.
Any of this making sense?
I would never cut salt out of the diet of the people I take to the jungle. I couldn't. They'd all fade after the first half day of walking 5 miles in the rainforest if they didn't have a little salt with their lentils and avocados and eggs and rice and river fish.
But this is just me talking and I've got no special pipeline to anything. I just do the best I can with the info I'm given and with the way I was taught.
I hope this ramble somehow helps you muddle through it.

Here's the Deal then...

So in the last week I've been feeling like crap. My blood pressure, kept in check for the last several months--for the first time in my life--is running 145./93 or so, every day. Don't like that, especially since I'm taking the meds. But lately my eyes feel like they're so full they're popping. I'll get a glaucoma check as soon as I can swing it.
Some of it might just be getting old. Some of it might be me hiding in a shell. How? I don't know. But I still might be doing it. So I don't like feeling like death is getting close. Not in the playbook that I wrote, anyway. I've too much to live for. I don't drink a lot anymore--more than I should but pretty darned tame if you ask me. And I'm putting my smokes out at the halfway point more than half the time, sometimes less than that. Still, if I'm screwed, it's me who did it.
On the other hand, I am not going easy. I'm gonna be strong and okay. I'm fuggin Irish and they'll get me when they get me. Meanwhile, I'm gonna be on that freaking wanted list and damn those who don't know that. Come and get me, Mr. Death, if you got the balls to deal with me once you got me.
Arrogant, no?
Fuck them. Go out kicking and screaming. Do not go gentle into that good night....