I found myself among them. We swam together.
We spoke a silent language I thought I never knew. I felt complete.
They accepted me.
"Are you okay?" asked Sal, holding me up.
I longed for the freedom to roam. I longed for the support of community.
I looked to the sea, but the whales were gone.
Later that day I overheard Sal say to Rama, "You know, Mark is
really bright."
"Of course he is," Rama replied, snapping his fingers.
"He's quick."
I appreciated the compliment. But I wondered, "How could
I be bright and quick if I was also possessed and non-functional?"
The memory of the Malibu trip was fresh on my mind when I arrived
in the Anza Borrego Desert and approached Casa Del Zorro.
Soon I sat waiting in the cottage with Sal, Bill, and Al.
Rama arrived late. He looked doughy faced and haggard. He said he
was stressed out and exhausted. Perhaps he was in more of a rut than
we were.
Rama distributed the stamps. Later he drove us to the top
of a hill where he had us watch him. At some point I threw up.
My awareness that I was me faded in and out. Behind my opened
or closed lids flashed continuous, multi-colored explosions.
From the chaos formed a spot, and the spot became shapes,
and the shapes became symbols.
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