Freedom mission July 3rd, 2011

Freedom Exploration Mission, randomness unit 6.  Deployed into zone on 2011 July third, 1:26 Post Meridian, -5 GMT.  No close support, however comm link was active and cleared for use.

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It's a TRAP!

First greeting: sign proclaiming a feast in honor of the gods.  This is a propitious sign indeed!  Noted in the logs for later reference in case resupply is needed.  First hint of paranoia: are the gods in this building to feast upon us?  Or are we supposed to feast upon the bounty of the land?  I do not see any stands or booths with food yet.  This worries me.  I do not think I will go into that building.  In the words of Admiral Ahkbar: "IT'S A TRAP!"

Joanna called me via comm link.  I was too close to loud music, so I retreated to a copse of trees and stone for protection from the decibels.  We discussed religion and pastoral care.  I was staring at a bronze outdoor sculpture of medieval monks while talking.  Pastoral care.  Yes.  That is a good idea.  People are not frozen in carbonite bronze, nor are they painted to protect them from rust and the elements.

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It was not a trap.  It was in fact an opportunity for salvation.  I would become saved three times in the next 120 minutes (1+2+0=3 trinity, epic closure).  This is perhaps a new record.  I no doubt need much saving.  I am a little too free for the comfort of the gods.  People say the mighty ones prefer order and discipline.  I don't know though ... there's a lot of random shit going on that doesn't work right.  I secretly don't think they have everything under control.

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I managed to avoid a patrol of strange humanoids gliding across the wet sand on upright chariots.  They neither looked to the right nor the left, but straight ahead, searching and looking, looking for something or someone.  I did not want to be that SOMETHING, or someone, or sum=1.

 

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After working my way through a crowd to lose the tail, I encountered my first salvation.  This group had erected a giant construction crucifix over their tent.  Their choir sang of washing in the blood of their lamb.  I am not sure if the lamb is to be nailed to the crane they erected, or if the crane will pick up the lamb and deposit it somewhere important.  Either way, I decided to accept their pamphlet, accept salvation in this song, and not wait for the giant lamb to show up.

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I next encountered a two-dome rabbit-Krishna festival.  I'm not sure which one was the vegetarian god-dome, and which one was the feast upon the inhabitants god-dome.  One of these domes may be an imposter.  The stone one is now following me.  I see it every time I look over my shoulder.  The fabric dome seems more inviting, more festival, more full of fest.  I will go there to achieve my second salvation.
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Fortunately at this point, I see a familiar face at a tent.  Mahandramantra recognizes me immediately and gives me a great big hug.  He has five eyes: two of worldly flesh, ONE of mystic quality in his forehead marked with golden paint, and two on his baseball cap.  I don't know if he wears glasses or has eyes in the back of his head.  Five is a good number.  We have only met once, a year ago, and I did not know his name until we greeted this time.  Praise be unto all the randomness that adventure has to offer.  We recited 108 supplications to Krishna under the beating sun, under the canopy, over the brown and withered grass, against the hard pack clay underneath, next to the beating drums and chants and cymbals.  Baking hot star vibes, fusion-powered beam rays strike me as I work my way through the string of prayer beads, feverish beads of sweat drip down my forehead.  I do not falter, but chant through the loop to the orange tassel.

Mahandramantra says to me "I can tell... you are a seeker of truth."  I replied "Yes.  I seek truth my friend, but mostly I am seeking surprises."  This troubles him a bit, and he says in a more quiet and reserved voice, lest the gods in the dome should here (the dome that is following me), he whispers ... "There are many surprises in this world."  I agree and smile.  He gives me another great big hug, and it is time for me to depart.  Before leaving, he equips me with additional talismans for my journey:  My own prayer beads, a pamphlet on chant with pictures of the Beatles in it, and a copy of the Bhagavad Gita.  The first 51 pages (5+1=6), he tells me, will explain the secrets of the universe.  That will be very useful information!
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A skinny wizard will make stars shoot out of his skull.  He has a cool beard, like grey dreadlocks but upside down, growing out of his jaw.  Krishna Jehovah Allah Buddha Yahweh and a very wise fellow in orange robes who is bald.  Also, a white man dressed in period 1830's clothing, wearing a clever cravat, who is enlightened can see curious, glowing life orbs in the chest of other men, and in the chests of a camel and a parrot.  He hides behind a wooden fence.
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There are women wearing head scarves walking by.  I cover the camera with my hand so they can not be photographed.

There is also a woman giving strong wine from her cup to a ferocious bird of prey.

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WHO AM I?
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HOO AHM EYE
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HUGH OHM AYE
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Here is my hand.  Here is my foot.  Here is my head.  Here am I, Lord.

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Catch the Magic, in the moment, be in the moment and let go of the granite rocks on the shore.  Granite wears slowly, unlike wood or sandstone.  Float down the river to a magic temple.  A leprechaun awaits you there, and a wizard with a white hat who rules the world!
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There are many signs along the river, many instructions, many orders and commands, things which are forbidden.

Peace Core, I hate war.  Don't we all?  Well, not everyone does, I suppose.  Not really.

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Information. Question Mark.  Providing information, or wondering who has it.  I don't know.
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Milkshake, Fork, Knife on the full moon: KEEP RIGHT!

Visitors welcome.  We hope you feel comfortable, and we want to let you know there is no smoking, no running, no biking, no standing in water, no cheeseburgers and shakes, no idleness, no stopping or standing. You must NEVER stop moving, keep pumping, keep going, keep breathing, keep rowing.  You must go to the end of the tunnel where the light bathes you in the soft glow of your ancestors' love.  Elysium, the island where you will rest.

Fish will not eat hooks.  They will not be hooked or cooked, separated by a boundary.  A hipster with glasses smokes a cigarette at the end of a plastic hipster filter, defying the orders for no smoking.  Men line up in the rain.  A storm approaches.




















No sitting on the Barriers: the drum, the pinwheel and the mask.  You must keep moving.  No idleness.  Idle hands and feet and heads are the devil's playground.

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