Cosmic Flight; a Strange Novel for Courageous Beings.

Unfolding in the past days, is a story that’s pulling reality towards a dream. I made it my mission to see everyday things in a new light. Have you ever noticed how all timeless and compelling stories are about you, the reader? If it’s not about the real you, it’s about a version you desire to be. When I want to get to know someone, I have a few questions that give me a peak inside their minds. ‘Do you believe in magic?, Are you a dreamer? Or, What do you know for sure’? Just to name a couple.

Meeting a witch.
After a long night of playing around in town, we found ourselves jamming at a public square. I was drumming on a recycled coffee bean container. Suddenly, I got a glimpse of an invincible force that basically told me to act now. About 100 meters away, sat a girl. It was to far for my eyes to focus, so I was sure it was something else pulling me towards her. I waved, and signaled her to join us. There she was. Is it OK if I join you guys?

And so, with very few words, a deep friendship was born. It can be that simple. Life passes by, showing us miracles wherever we are, all the time. We both felt this invincible thing, let’s call it a connection. Maybe it was because she took LSD and I was high as a kite; still, whatever happened was real. We spend many hours together, one time maybe even a whole day, uninterrupted. We indulged in philosophical and intellectual conversations and discussions until my brain ran out of water and oxygen…

Jo, or Johanna, I believe is her full name.

What happens to witches who ignore their powers is maybe as bad as giving in to the rat race of this techno-psychotic society. What drives me to write in such a way? Using words like witches, magic, techno-psychotic and the like..? Funny you ask…

To complicate matters rather significantly, I was in a relationship at the time. Not the normal kind, but still, sharing love with different people and jealousy are a package deal. The cave life offered the necessary time and space to deal with such complexities. One evening we lied down on a mattress in the living room of our cave. I felt deeply connected and lost in the connection I felt with her. Our hands touched, moving in perfect synchronicity. It felt electrical, like those kinky rock songs from the 70’s. My girlfriend was in the bedroom, right next to us. A tension, clearly hanging in the room made my desire for more even stronger. Then, when we were totally emerged in this intuitive dance of energies my girlfriend passed us to go outside to pee. I believe she even stepped on the mattress because the room was so small…

And back I was. A sudden break from our ascend to heaven, now adjusting to this weird scenario. I mean, I experienced some strange things, but I have to admit that I felt far beyond my comfort zone. Finally the tension or elephant in the room dominated the experience by clarifying it’s presence quite abruptly. This, of course, is my version of the story. I hope Jo can relate to it, as this story is on it’s way to be read by her. As you might have noticed, there is a lot of ego involved in this often psychedelic story. If you paid even closer attention, you might also have sensed a continues flow of the death and resurection of this ego.

Flip the joint mate. Come on, we don’t have all night. I really struggled rolling this one. Don’t blame the wind man. Is this the first time you flip a fucking joint or what? As his words flew by my hands started to sweat and I ripped the paper…

My Irish buddy Conner laughed, took the stuff out of my shaking hands and ‘flipped the joint’. ‘I like how you say it Conner’. Well, smoke the joint man. He passed me his creation, I took a good hit and passed it on to Joe, who still seemed to be tripping from the weed milk I gave him earlier. ‘You’re such a lightweight. I’m not judging mate’, Conner said. But I was inside, in inner space. A story unfolded as seen by my minds eye.

Two business man meet up. Can you walk and smoke at the same time? One of them asked his associate. ‘Yes’, he responded. Good. Can you smoke and think at the same time? ‘Yes’. Great. Listen then…

You heard the rumors of a group of high society folks like ourselves doing esoteric practices? ‘Yes, I did hear about it at the coffee table’. Well, they do this to get more power. I got in on a little secret. *Pulled out a little glass pipe and said: ‘This is it mate, it’s a fucking portal’. You know why 13 is associated with bad luck man? ‘No, why’? It’s the next dimension, even mathematically calculated. The pattern of the spectrum of color and sound also fit within that model. It’s all encapsulated in twelve sections so to speak. Thirteen represents the beginning of a new spectrum, or another world. People are scared of these other worlds these days. They don’t go there anymore…That’s why 13 means bad luck. To keep everyone safe and far away from them…

This fucking pipe mate, is the portal to another world. The only problem is that it’s pretty darn hard to control. You need a cosmic compass when you’re out there. As I looked at Conner, I realized the story unfolding in my head was actually being told through his lips, wherever it came from. Amazing, I said, accidentally breaking the flow of his story:

The wind is a language you know. Only it’s words are symbols, forever changing depending on when and where you are. I like to listen to her stories, especially in nature at night. When she speaks, it’s universal wisdom whispering through the trees. ‘Who is she?’ I asked Conner, who was clearly somewhere else entirely. Mother nature of course, he continued…

Experiences like this are often only problematic when you feel the need to go around like the freaking messiah. Everyone experiences divine moments, really. Most people have had a transcendental experience. Very few feel a call to pursue the weird, mind-expanding, mystical and spiritual aspects of life. When I believed I was the chosen one I traveled the world, naked, with a big cardboard sign with ‘out of the way hippies!’ on it. On the other side it said: ‘Free Fhugs’, which is a weird new word combining both hugs and fucks. Of course it was up to the sometimes underage looking strangers to choose, or rather to provide consent. It’s no wonder this creative project didn’t last longer than an unexpectedly long weekend. All taboos are already shattered, a narrating voice said with a sad undertone. Let me make up for this incoherency, the voice continued…

Next Chapter. Order in the chaos.

My apologies for the sudden interuption. If my apology feels justified to you, that means you were in the flow of the story. Which to me means a lot. I plan on writing a novel. The thing is, I am looking for a way to sustain my minimal lifestyle. Keeping a blog and sharing my work will hopefully attract the truly interested. The idea is to spread the word, find my fans and sell them the story that might change their lives. In the meantime I share nearly everything for free, without copyright. I encourage people to do whatever they choose to do with what I share on this blog. Change it, sell it, print and eat it, put your name under it, get famous…Whatever you please.

Please let me know what you think. Subscribe, like, share and comment. You know the drill. People often underestimate the power of little actions. I hope you don’t.

May the magic be with you!

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