ZITS - Political Humor of the Moment

Dear Friends,

I recently received this from a source who will remain anonymous with, let's say, a different take on the American political scene and priorities.   Enjoy the word play.   Pass it on. 

                                                                       ZION TEMPLE SCHOOL
                                                                           We're fighting ZITS
                                                          A zero tolerance Christian elementary school

Memo:  To wit:

From:  Office of the Principle

To:  Parents of little ZITS, Hairy R., Leesa M., Jon B., Mittsh M. and Baarock HO.

SUBJECT:  School Suspensions and Christmas Pageant 2013

Dear Parents:

We regret to inform you (thinking - not very much) your child will be suspended from ZITS elementary, where every little ZIT is a treasure.  Due to severe budget cuts (thinking - they have no cents) we can no longer afford to send separate parent letters.  At ZITS we're proud of our one size fits all private policy.  Hereinafter your little ZIT will be denied recess privileges for the indefinite future (thinking - yeah Guantanamo Bay!) for the following infarction's.

1.  Food fighting in the hall:  Offenders - Leesa, Jon, Mittsh, Baarock, Hairy others in same Class. 

     Principle recap:  Children will be children, still immature for their age.  You are aware we use the Golden Rule at ZITS 
                                to spank.  We spank fannies only when necessary.  It was.  Our GR broke.  They fractured it.
                                (thinking - hard little asses, they're sorry asses now, bottom line). 

2.  Bullying:  Offender - Little Leesa, others too, not just now

     Principle recap:  Leesa for bulling Qen S.  He wouldn't give her his Rocky Road sucker.  Leesa's a bright ZIT but likes
                                to throw her weight around (thinking - a little blackmailer already, musta learned that from her daddy
                                Phrank).  Leesa's trying to suck up to her friends at home by taking Qen's RR sucker.  She had a
                                hissy fit when he wouldn't hand it over.   Watches too much C - Span???  Threatened to take
                                Juwell, pal Baarock's doll away (thinking - weird little ZIT).  She's a sweet ZIT most of time.  Wants to
                                be a lawyer.  I tried to discourage her.

3.  Name calling:   Offenders - Baarock, Jon. Mittsh, Hairy

     Principle recap:  Baarock called Jon and Mittsh "crackers," per no. 1 above.  Jon and Mittsh called Baarock an
                                uppity "n" word (thinking - he is a bit tall for his age).  At ZITS, we're a zero tolerance religious school
                                (thinking - little bastards deserved a lick'in, better red than dead!).

4.  Uncooperative and not sharing:  Offenders (in no preferred order ) - Leesa, Jon, Mittsh, Baarock, Hairy - more at
                                                                  one time or another.

     Principle recap:  We teach all our little ZITS to share and cooperate - as I know you are.  What happens if they forget
                                the basics when they grow up?  They could end up in government.

5.  Breaking the GR:  Offenders - Baarock all the time lately,  others in Class - more often than not. 

     Principle recap:  Baarock caught throwing paper airplanes with stink bombs in the halls.  It was just a joke - he 
                                said,  (thinking - he has a liars smile already).  He nearly poked a girls eye out.  He's a ZIT with
                                big ideas.  If a grown up did it with the real thing, you could kill some one! 
                               
                                On a positive note:   You'll be pleased to know ZITS bought model RC (radio controlled) drones so our
                                                                  children can learn to play constructively.  Baarock has a knack for it.  Does you. 
                                                                  proud. 

PS:   ZITS are little sinners too.  We forgive them one and all (thinking - if they "f" up again they're out a the 
         Pageant.
        
                                                                  On to the Christmas Pageant, CP hereinafter

Parent note:  We are planning early to accommodate our foreign guests.  And we got that it's usually boring.  ZITS has
                      engaged Mikhael More as new Producer/Director to put joy in it, with new sets, and characters, and music.

                      This season we've invited No Rules Apply elementary school (NRA) to join us.  Their principle Dayvid
                      Qeen will take a shot at play acting in our CP extravaganza.  They're like us, old school, traditional
                      values.   Send you a magazine clipping;  loaded with details.  No - parents must check "heat" at the
                      door.  They'll debut their "fight" song - Heavy Metal - plug it in somewhere.  It's a killer, you'll like it.
                       
                      We're very please to get them.

                                                                         
                                                           CP Outline (contemporary/traditional mixed) a work in progress.

ACT 1:  Scene 1; Theme - He's coming (contemporary)

             Set:  On the Hill

             Cast of ZITS (honorary):  Jack Benny, George Burns, Don Rickles as The Three Wise Men (note to MM:  photo
                                                      shop it, find dead ringers for parts, look in the halls)
           
              Musical support:  Grateful Dead

              Scene Opener:  cast facing Star in the east (they're arguing about whom), sing "Hail to the Chief."


ACT 2:  Scene 2;  Theme - He's here (traditional, set only)

             Set:  Bethlehem Manger

             Cast in order of appearance:    Feedel as baby Jesus - special Cuban guest appearance by MM invitation
                                                             
                                                               Jon, Mittsh,  and Leesa as The Three Wise men - all ZITS
                                                             
                                                              (note to MM:  unable ta find third male Wise Man in Jon and Mittsh's Class, use
                                                               Leesa as filler)
                                                             
                                                               Nancy P. as Mary - a ZIT too
                                                             
                                                                Baarock as Joseph - another ZIT 
                                                                (note to MM:  use whatever white flour it takes).
                                                            
                                                                Hairy R. as walk on Shepard
                                                  
                                                                 Dayvid Qeen (NRA) as Donkey
                                                               
                                                                (note to MM re Donkey:  It's really an Ass.  There's many walking our halls
                                                                 that would make good Asses.  How some ever, Dayvid Q. said the part suited him
                                                                 best.  We agree.  He gets it.  He's the perfect Ass of the year for our 2013
                                                                 Pageant.          
                                                                 
              Scene Opener:  Three Wise Men arrive, look in manger, cut to Baby Jesus, head shot (debearded Feedel in the
                                         hay) burst out laughing, sing NRA fight song -

                                                                                                 HEAVY METAL

                                                                                            We love guns,
                                                                                            Gun are fun,
                                                                                            Guns don't kill,
                                                                                            We got "muscle" on the Hill,
                                                                                             Ban our 15's if you can,
                                                                                             If you do, the "s" hits fan.

              Scene Closer:   With Mary and Joseph plus walk on Shepard, Hairy R.  They play pin the tail on the Ass
                                        (thinking - he'll be one sorry Ass if they do) all sing Jesus Loves me to Baby Jesus.  Curtain
                                        close, First Act, Wise Man Don R. walks off stage with Ass - proclaiming, "yes my friends - once
                                        an Ass always an Ass."

ACT 3:  Scene 3;  Theme:  He returns, who cares??? (contemporary)

             Set:  Guantanamo Bay - A tortured history,  in honor of Feedel's family,
                    
                      (note to MM:  honorarium background music, suggested -  Mikhael Row Your Boat A Shore, you got ohooo
                                            so close MM but no cigar)
                                           
             Cast:  Same as ACT 2,

             Scene Opener:  Jesus (adult Feedel with false beard) in orange jump suit behind razor wire yelling
                                        - set my captives free, lift the embargo, pleads for Restorative Justice.  Manger ZITS, NRA Ass
                                        turn back on him.  Jesus says "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass
                                        against us.  Love one another as I have loved you.  If you say it in my name and don't do it
                                        you're a hypocrite or politician. If you do it but don't say it, gracias amigos." 
            
             Scene Closer:    teleprompter plays words for Silent Night - dead silence;  Up stage - Baarock, and Nancee,
                                        continue to play pin the tail on the Ass.  Curtain falls,   Jon, Mittsh, Leesa, Hairy
                                        scratch heads,  Restorative Justice, huh - we don't get it???

                                                                                 THE END (unless it isn't)

              Note to parents:   Not all fleshed out yet.  Little ZIT Leesa M., volunteered to look up Restorative Justice; will
              make presentation to assembly next fall;  can't get being a lawyer out of head.  NRA elementary will peddle 
              CD's of Heavy Metal afterward.  To order call 1 - A15 USE AMMO for price, availability, no background checks.

Security - TSA

Travel arrangements - Cubana Airlines

Promotion - Radio Bimbo Limbo



            
                                                            

                                                            
                                                            

            

            

           

New From Peace Rider

Dear Friends,

My apologies for the absence of more from me in these days.  Writing of a past life experience has taken on a life of its own, more in story form so that has taken more time.  Then too tax time is upon us again.  So from head in the clouds to rendering unto Caesar his due.

But here's some food for thought.  From my days more immersed in the Bible than now I recall that Jesus threw the money changers out of the temple for defiling it.  I also understand he spoke in parables and metaphor to make a point. 

In this day for me the "temple" is Mother Earth which we are collectively defiling,  putting money and having our own way ahead of most other considerations.  What then needs to be overturned, individually and collectively to set things aright to restore balance and harmony in our world?  Something to think about.? 

Peace Rider

Peace Rider at Central, AK 2/8/13 -2/13/13

Dear Friends,

Just to let you know I have not quite finished a piece on a past life experience form my last long distance bike ride. 

That was interrupted by a few days spent as a volunteer for the Yukon Quest sled dog race from Whitehorse to Fairbanks.  In even years it begins in Fairbanks.  If you catch this blog in time and Google Yukon Quest.com and click on tracker you can follow the last of the mushers headed into Fairbanks.  At this point it's nearly over except for the person whose last and secures the Red Lantern award.  But even so just finishing is a worthy effort regardless of finishing order.  This is the toughest sled dog race of any out there, a thousand miles through the wilderness of the Yukon Territory and Alaska. 

This year it was a bit shortened because of impossible trail conditions over American Summit on the way to Eagle, AK. 

After 40 years living in Fairbanks I thought it would be a gas to volunteer and get up close and personal with the mushers and the dogs which I did.  We were especially lucky to have temperatures no colder than about 10 below zero F.  Each musher is required to carry certain mandatory equipment and at each station these items are checked for being in his or her possession.   Since mushers can arrive at any hour we had our check station in operation round the clock.  In the process we got to experience some of the sleep deprivation that is a part of long distance racing.  But it was also pretty cushy with a warming fire in a wood stoked burn barrel plus bales of straw to sit on.  The latter was a diminishing pile. Each mushers got one bale of straw for his dogs to lie on.  The musher got a free steak dinner at Mike's Central restaurant plus a warm place to sleep and a bed next door in the "red barn." 

Some musher's dogs were still eager to keep going after they stopped and would bark and hit the end of their harnesses not ready to stop.  This was a real treat to witness and a statement about the care these dogs receive all along the way. 

All the dogs are checked by volunteer race vets after they are checked in.  Dogs not fit to continue for a variety of reasons are dropped and collected by the musher's handlers.  After that the musher tends to his dogs, removes dog booties, spreads straw for each dog to lie on, then heats water on an alcohol cooker to reconstitute the musher's dog food. This is prepared in advance and hauled to each drop point ahead of race time.  Rules do not allow the handler to assist the musher at this point but he or she does have the "privilege" of cleaning up the straw and any other messes after the musher departs. 

After all the chores are taken care of there is not much time left for the to rest, one to four hours seemed about the norm.  Hallucinating due to sleep deprivation is not uncommon.

This was only the second year Trackers have been used.  Basically it's a small GPS unit securely fastened to each sled that allows continuous position location for each musher.  It's a safety feature and also allows fans an opportunity to follow in real time the location of their favorite racer. 

So a wonderful opportunity to meet folks from all over.  I met a vet from Australia, a woman vet from Madrid, and another form Alberta, CA.

An early AM departure from Central for Fairbanks on the 13th got us over Eagle Summit at first light with calm winds.  This was a relief.  We had to be led over by a snow plow on the 8th when the winds were howling and whiteout conditions prevailed.  The road closed overnight afterward. 

Going down the over side we spotted one wolf running up a hillside and then three more that scattered from a caribou kill on the road as we approached.  It may have been a hit by a car,  there was no way to tell at a distance.  My friends lamented not having a gun with them but I was just as happy to see them depart unharmed. 

Saturday is the mushers banquet in Fairbanks.

Don - Peace Rider

Impressions from the Road 2/4/2013, Fairbanks, AK

Dear Friends,

I returned to the snow and cold of Fairbanks, AK on 16 January.  Since then I have taken up writing about things that came to me over the course of my long distance bike riding.

I wrote the following short piece as a Community Perspective for our local paper in the hope of reaching a wider audience.  It may or may not see the light of day but at least you who have been following my peregrinations will have a chance to read it.
It repeats some of the things I've already mentioned in the blog in different places.   Repetition is not a bad thing.

I also want you to know there will be more to follow, I hope in the next few days.  On the journey just completed I had a past life experience I wanted to share knowing in the process that I make myself vulnerable to skeptics and criticism from the "incredulous" bleachers.  So be it.  It was meaningful to me with horizon broadening implications for all of us.

Don - Peace Rider

These past five months I've been mostly on a bicycle.  The first beginning in mid-September, was a long leg from Grand Prairie, Alberta through Jasper and Banff Parks in the Canadian Rockies, across the Great Plains reaching North Glen, near Denver in early November.  In mid-December I flew to Cancun, Mexico from Miami, with my break apart bicycle, to visit friends and be in the land of the Maya for "fin del mundo," end of the world on 12/21/12. 

To the Maya this date was never viewed as a cataclysmic world ending event but the end of a long calendar cycle and beginning of a new one.  It may well be the end of the world as we know it.  Whether we create a self-fulfilling prophecy and a New Earth is up to us.  It can happen if all the positive energy and growing desire for positive change I experienced are any indication. 

I left on my first long distance journey as Peace Rider in early October 2009, motivated in part by the urgency of addressing climate change.  It was no surprise climate change legislation was dead when I reached Washington, DC seven months later.  The urgency remains. 
 
I met a lot of really kind and decent folks in my travels which were more about the journey than the destination.  I believe they're the vast majority and not the fringe minority that are the daily grist of the reporting media.  There's a basic goodness in each of us we have yet to fully embrace.  A lasting joy for me were the many connections and friendships that became a part of my life. 

I realized before cycling in the Yucatan of Mexico that climate change and the failure to address it along with other problems are the result of a more fundamental cause, namely consciousness itself.  Einstein  said in essence, you can't solve a problem(s) with the same level of consciousness that created them.  When this became clear to me my focus shifted to working for peace on earth and peace with the earth through the elevation of consciousness guided by the Way of Peace which is love. 

We live in a materialistic culture yet what expands, fulfills and brings happiness comes not from the getting and things you possess but from the unselfish giving of one's self.

The "insanity" in our world comes from our thoughts or perceptions about our place in the grand scheme of things.  Thoughts are energy and from them we create the reality we live in.  What you focus on grows.

The good news, consciousness is changing.  What is arising now is a perception that though we are separate physically, there is an inherent energetic connection between all things.  Separation is an illusion.  As one author put it we are spiritual (energy) beings having a human experience.  From this perspective comes a knowing that we are not our minds or bodies but an eternal essence present in all things.  Call it what you will.  I have met people living from this new understanding. 

Centuries ago in Europe people thought the Earth was flat.  It was believed you'd fall off the edge if you went too far. This seems silly today.  Back then it took a few courageous souls to challenge the prevailing thinking and venture forth into the unknown.  In the process they discovered a greater reality, a new frontier and their perceptions of the known world were forever changed. 

The ongoing awakening is similar.  It is a perceptual shift from separation to unity or Oneness.  From this perspective it's understood that what we give to another we give to ourselves individually and collectively because of our interconnectedness.  Violence, wars and fear come from a long misunderstanding of this relationship.

My impression is women are leading the way with a re balancing of mind and heart energies.  It's the imbalance and dominance of male, left brain, ego centered energy that has created most of our problems. 

Thirteen is a sacred number to the Maya.  It signifies love.  It is a number connected to the natural world;  the number of annual fertility cycles in a women's body; of lunar cycles and the number of major joints in our bodies. 

In this year of love 2013, it is time to end the "insanity," of the world we have created for our children's sake.  Their well being depends on it. 

We are being encouraged to awaken and take the next giant leap for humanity.

Surprise ending, the high and low of it - Akumal, Quintana Roo, Mexico to Miami, FL 1/15/13 to 1/18/13

Dear Friends,

 

I had some sense I was in for a big surprise at the end.  But I hadn't a clue and stopped projecting outcomes.  Afterall, to be a surprise is to be unpredictable. 

 

I got on the road north bound from Akumal early enough to beat the heat of the day into Playa del Carmen roughly 20 miles up the road.  Easy, fast going on a flat wide shoulder, ear plugs jammed in to deaden the worsts of the noise from speeding traffic.  This two lane divided highway along the Riviera Maya is one busy thoroughfare but not too bad for biking with ample shoulders, in most places.  Still, you need to pay attention.

 

I had arranged to meet a friend and stay the night with him in Playa.  Fine it seemed, I would call him, never mind I had no cell phone,  from our prearranged rendezvous point at an OXXO mini-mart near where he lived.   I get there about noon after asking directions multiple time,.   Local information can be problamatical.   In general the trend was north of where I asked although one woman pointed me back in the direction I had come.  On top of that there was more than one OXXO store along the route. 

 

I finally locate the place where I'm supposed to rendezvous with no cell phone and no time left on my Ladatel calling card.  I ask several folks if they would make a cell call for me.  They kindly oblige.  But I get no answer.  I know my friend works irregularly as a guide and may have gotten a call for work.  I ask again and make a call to his house.  No answer.  I leave a message.  I decide to wait, eat a boiled egg, a tangerine and tortillas with a peanut butter spread and honey.  Time passes.  I'm in no hurry.  I sit next to Mario.  He's from Chiapas and looking for chamo (local expression) he tells me..  He makes a call for me but nada.  Nada on work for him also.  He's been here a week and rented a place, adequate for a $100 a month.  The afternoons slips away.  By 3:00 I decide to go to my friend's house and wait there.  I have the address and ask directions.  Pretty straight forward except I don't see the house numbers at first.  They're on a stone slab out front.  The place turned out to be in a row of interconnected small condos.   I park my bike in the shade of a nearby overhang, spread out my tarp and lie down, peso coins fall out of my pockets onto the side walk.  Later I ask a resident to make a call for me but still no answer.  No one shows up.  I decide at this point I need to leave by 1630  to reach Puerto Morelos before dark or camp short or there.   From PM it's under 10 miles to the airport, a piece-of-cake.   I stayed at Renatto's place in PM when I first arrived and left a note saying I would try to stop by later.  I  first met him after the People's Climate Summit in 2010.  He's a sculptor.

 

I stay in Playa beyond my leaving time.  The curtain falls at 18:00.  I get to the main highway, fortunately I'm already on the north side of town.  A passing sign says 18 miles to Puerto Morelos.  No way I can make it before dark now.   I recall stopping for lunch on the way south at a place that was a possible camp for the night.  It was a chained driveway with a way around, no house nearby.   I don't recall exactly where it is but keep an eye out.   Is it the place I'm meant to camp, I wonder?  I usually get off the road and camp before dark for piece of mind and safety. 

 

 

I don't get far and I see the place I'm looking for on the opposite side of the highway.  I cross, park my bike and walk back a ways looking for a camp site.  There's still some daylight left..  Nothing leaps out at me and says YES,  It's brushy and hard ground to stake in.  I walk back to my bike, another 15 minutes or so of daylight gone.   I say to hell with it.  I'm going to Puerto Morelos and Renatto's place knowing I'll have to bike in the dark.  I feel easy about it, this is not a lonely stretch of road in the middle of nowhere.  People are still waiting at road side for a bus or mini-van to take them home.  There's a wide shoulder.   

 

Most of this stretch of road to PM is Luxury Hotel alley.  Near dark the overhead street lights down the median strip pop on.  How about that for help!.  I hadn't noticed them before.   My helmet and bike have reflective tape.  I set my handle bar light to flash.   I stay well right except to pass the occasional stopped vehicle.  It's cool and pleasant after sunset except for the traffic.   Hotel alley comes to an ends and with it my overhead lighting.  I'm only five miles or so out of PM at this point, another half hour and I'm there.

 

I get to PM about 8:00,  hungry and thirsty.  A beer then bike doesn't work, I've tried that already.  I buy a Fanta in a can hoping it will get recycled rather than the ubiquitous plastic bottle.   A nearby street vendor has tamales for sale.  Do I want one with mole, a black sauce or green she asks.  I try green..  It comes wrapped in a banana leaf then corn husk.  It's good, with a little chicken inside.  She puts it on a Styrofoam plate with plastic fork.  Where's that going to end up?  No need to ask, it's unlikely to get recycled and may end up dumped off the road somewhere.  I don't feel good about it.  Why are we compelled to make choices that "suck (undesirable)?"   We've allowed a monster to be created by companies with products that won't biodegrade into harmless substances or get appropriately recycled?  Another soap box tirade but we can't keep doing this to ourselves with sucky things like this.  Plastic crap litters the planet everywhere.

 

Renatto's place is a mile or so west on the outskirts of this small town.  There's street lighting but some dark spots in between lights.  I turn my light on steady. There's a short strech of unpaved potholes to dodge in the dark nearing his place.  He's created a charming and enchanting mixture of garden and sculpture in the midst of low forest cleared of under brush.  Near his house is a cenote but its waters are not clear like some I've visited.   Small black fishes live in it like the others.  A large plaster sculpture of a brown skinned warrior holding what looks like a green serpent over his shoulder sits in the drive, mostly finished now.  It was being reworked when I was here nearly a month earlier.   In a nearby building a group is singing.  Harry, who works for Renatto, greets me in the dark.  He remembers me and says welcome.  He asks if I'm thirsty and brings me some water.  We both stand outside and look in on a small group of mostly women.  Renatto is sitting on floor mats singing with the rest.  Harry tells me they're getting ready for a mas cal or sweat lodge ceremony.  The mas cal he tells me is to honor these volunteers helping Renatto.  

 

To my great surprise I recognize the leader, it's Isabel.  I remember her face but not her name.  I have to ask.  She had a deeper tan before so I was not sure at first.  But she comes out briefly and I have to ask.  The last time we met was equally unexpected.   It was at Gabriel's place after the People's Climate Summit.   I had lost track of the date until I asked Gabriel.  It was 12/21/10.   He then  told me a group from PCS was coming later that day for a mas cal celebration he was leading. I was invited to join.  Isabel was with them.  I recognized some of the others as well.  She's an attractive women with a strong, beautiful voice that connects people with their heart energy through singing and  graceful prayers of blessing and gratitude. A very warm and unforgettable person.  I'm blown away,  reconnection under remarkably similar circumstances on my last day in Mexico.  We are deeply connected if we only knew it.  Both she and later Renatto ask if I would come to the mas cal ceremony.  I say yes and think I wouldn't miss it for anything.  Harry points to a blazing fire on the other side of the cenote heating rocks for the mas cal. 

 

I set up my tent before the singing ends, put my swimming trunks on under my pants and head for the fire.  Several are standing around waiting for others to join.  The mosquitoes chew on us.  I meet Augustine from Whistler, BC, one of the volunteers.  He's set up a hammock near where I pitched my tent.  After a wait of some time we stand in a line to enter.   Sheila tells me I need to move back one place so it's woman, man, woman, I assume to balance the energy but I don't really know.  Maria holds a smoking cup of copal, a sacred resin of the Maya.  She passes the smoke over outstretched arms and legs in a ritual cleansing, first in front then in back before each person enters.  We crawl in and sit on banana leaves placed around a center fire pit under a low dome roof.    Isabel crouches near the oval exit, Maria opposite to my right.  I'm in the back center looking out on  the fire.  Isabel asks for seven rocks to enter to begin.  Jose takes them from the fire, dusts off the ashes and carefully passes the pitch fork one rock at a time to Isabel who lets them drop into the pit.  They are welcomed as abuelos or ancestors.  Someone sprinkles a powder on the rocks that sparkles like twinkling stars each time they settle in the pit.   

 

Some carbon gets in and it turns smoky..  The wood cap on the ceiling is opened and shut to let the smoke out.  The air clears and Isabel asks for the rug over the puerta to be closed.  Hot steam rises from water she pours over the abuelos.  She asks for each one in turn starting with Maria to say a prayer.  Afterward she asks for anyone to sing who has a short song.   We do this four times or puertas honoring the four ordinal points of the compass representing earth, air, fire and water.  Each time the puerta opens more abuelos enter until none remain in the fire.  It gets very hot.  During one closing Renatto plays the didgeridoo accompanied by drums and rattles, a vibration that resonates and fits the time and circumstance.  An ancient instrument of an ancient people.  One woman leaves before the fourth puerta.  I'm tempted but stay.  Isabel asks how I'm doing.  I say tired from the riding and mas cal.  The heat is intense between puertas.   By the fourth puerta I'm lying on my side on the leaves, others are doing the same where the air is marginally cooler.  Isabel flings water inside the darkened space to give a little cooling but it's fleeting.  It's a sacred ceremony of healing and purification not a sauna. 

 

I'm ready to leave when Isabel calls for the last puerta and we crawl out.  I can barely stand, feeling weak and dizzy.  I grab onto a nearby tree for support.  I close my eyes and see a circle of blue light with a brown finger like object in the center.  I've never seen it before. What's that all about?   I reach for nearby slices of pineapple still reeling.  They taste soooo good,  a banana follows.   What really begins to set me aright is rinsing with cool water dipped from a bucket.  The fire has turned to a bed of coals.  I don't know what time it is but it's late.  The next morning I ask Jose what time we quit.   He says about midnight.  I change back into cloths I laid outside and head for my tent.  I'm tired but at the same time wowed by the intensity of the experience.  What a way to exit Mexico,  some of the best for last.

 

The next morning I'm off to the airport by 0800 and there before 10:00.  I make a mistake thinking my flight is earlier and arrive with time to spare.  I make a couple of loops  around the airport until I find the right terminal.  Perhaps still a bit out of it from the mas cal.  I park my bike outside Terminal 3, close to the cart rack so I don't have to carry my bags inside.  I start disassembling my bike.  The Mexican Federal Police stop to hassle me, an odd ball tourist on a bicycle.  I hand over my passport and immigration card neither of which you want to lose.  Questions follow.  They find nothing and leave me in peace.

 

After that check in and wait.  At check in I notice the back pack straps on my bike bag are missing, "ripped off, stolen."  I accept what is but I'm not a happy camper.   No one sits in the tail section seats next to me after lift off.   I lie down, miss the meager beverage service,  then it's time to land.  The lines to clear immigration and customs are long.  We landed before 7:00 but I don't get on the metrorail to Lisa and Richard's place until nearly nine.  I have a moment of panic when I only get his voice mail.   But he gets back to me and we coordinate a pick up.  Relief,  I was expected. 

 

So that would appear to be the end of it.  But near as I can figure, a load of unwelcome hungry hitch hikers climbed aboard my pants and socks at the mas cal. It really doesn't matter where.   In considerable numbers they entombed themselves in my legs and feet as little red zits that itched like hell.  In partially successful stoic fashion I try to be present with the itch.  Does it help, a little?  I know the intellectual part.   What you resist persists.  These are hard lessons.  On other tropical sojourns I've had similar massive infestations around the belt line and private parts, thoroughly miserable.  Maybe a little less so this time, some progress.  Resistance is futile.  That's my story - the high and low of it.   

 

On Monday, the 16th back to Alaska and more challenges.  I'm ready.  There's more to come.

 

Don - Peace Rider