"My actions are blissfully free from outcomes." I'm working on it. Sit up straight, cross your legs, breathe deeply, rely on the mantra. "Om Anandham Namah...Om Anandham Namah." Slowly, let the words absorb you, allow your mind to float away, empty, free.
I'm trying, but all I can think about is Eric and his ex-fiance in the hut next to my yurt - probably because that's all I can hear right now. The two of them laughing and making love. The girl is married, but, clearly, not happily. They were engaged, but Eric was so wrapped up in his own heroine addiction the union, predictably, withered away. Now, she's back and she's rekindled the flame. "I fucking deserve it," he said to me today, cackling, cleaning dishes in the back room, "it's been nine months!"
Eric is very open with his past vices, he'll tell you all about how he was stabbing his arms with needles and fighting hookers and the gambling, Oh! the gambling - it's interesting to hear him speak so openly about it. I respect his honesty and his openness - it makes me feel real. I feel strong and accepted seeing him unashamed of his past. Boldly facing life one day at a time. He's not proud of the old days, but surely not ashamed of them, either. He washes dishes, now, but he's not shooting up. The doctors have replaced his old addiction with a new one - to Soboxin - one they can monitor and control, hopefully. "Oh, pray tell my dear sir," Eric said to a lonely, crazy passenger on the public transit. The man was attempting to explain his experiences as a helicopter pilot. "I've flown around the world in a helicopter," he declared. "Nah, no you didn't. I bet you rode this bus around the whole island, though," Eric responded, politely, but not really.
Eric is surprisingly intelligent. He did wood floors for thirty years - beautiful, magnificent creations...he's well read and can fix almost anything. His temper and his social skills are what get him into trouble. You have to know how to handle him - you just let him vent. Let him steam it out. He's short with long blonde hair, crazy eyes, and a goofy, infectious smile. He's a good guy; we've become good, strange friends. He's from Costa Mesa. We went to the same high schools (thirty years apart). We were born in the same hospital. Now, we drink the same biers and live on the same island.
Om Anandham Namah.
Here's a video of me dunking a basketball...because, frankly, i don't know how many more i have left. Wait for the se