Sister Morphine

Sister Morphine:  We left on Saturday Morning for the Atacama, the driest desert in the world that ranges in elevation between 8,000 to 21,000 feet – it is dry, barren, hot and bitter cold nothing lives here, a lot of elevation gain. We arrived fairly well wornout and exhausted after 36 hours of non stop travel and the altitude created a fire in my brain. It was like a red hot knife that entered my brain through my eyes, so I self administered 5 mg of hydro-morphine, (morphine).  

Many call sister morphine a demon but I think she has the sweet disposition of Kuan Yin.  Kuan Yin the compassionate: To me sister morphine is a sage, the compassionate one, as well as my old friend. I was excited to meet my old friend as she is warm and inviting. Like a new lover, she draws you to her with her warm smile and as she runs her soft hands through your hair and you feel her lips upon yours and embrace, you reach enlightenment, find infinity and touch the void.  

Everything is possible now that she has taken me back.   She is like a mystic, that merely clarifies the mind and provides a world of vision. As I lay in the bed in the hotel, our blood coursed together through our veins, she held me tight and our bodies entwined in pure blissfulness and then I drifted into a sea of sweat dreams. I was transported home into a thick verdant forest in a grove of trembling pines. Overhead a few golden eagles were circling in broad-winged silent grace and their squelch carried across the wilderness. Huge cobwebs of lichens trailed from tree to tree in the vast forest. The roots were deeply embedded in the black-green moss, in a sea of fungus. A muggy vegetable air hung under the countless firs. I awoke and my lover was gone.  Emptiness surrounded me but I knew I would embrace again: my lover, my lover ,I am empty.

Ta-Yen my friend?

Anything is possible now that Ta-yen has taken me back.  I lie contentedly in the semidarkness of a musty, smoke filled room, waiting to greet my old friend and landlord and ponder how I will pay the rent.  Many call Ta-yen a demon but I think Ta-yen has the sweet disposition of Kuan Yin.  Ta-yen is like a mystic, that merely clarifies the mind and provides a world of vision.

The rudimentary hut is dark on the inside and a smoldering fire dimly illuminates it, casting ghostly shadows about.  The earthen floor is covered by a old bamboo mat worn and haggard and the room is musty and somewhat damp.  I sit down next to Noi on the old worn bamboo map and dream of meeting my old friend Ta-Yen before Noi hands me the yellow parchment.  I rent apart that old yellow parchment and two dark brown balls of sap emerge.  I fondle them, rolling the small round sticky pellets in my hand, thinking about the clarity of vision and dreams awaiting me.  I place one of the visionaries on the tiny hole on a smooth elegantly carved ivory pipe worn by the many years of use, dreaming of the dragon I will be chasing and I light it with the orange ember form the smoldering fire in the dank room.

I tug deeply to fill my lungs- two pipes , and watch the smoke rise  upward swirling like a ghost dancer before disappearing in the dark expanse of the musty room and then stretch out on the wooden bench that smells to the core of burnt cinnamon while resting my head peacefully on the wooden head rest before I drift into a sea of sweat dreams.  I am transported home into a thick verdant forest in a grove of trembling pines.  Overhead a few golden eagles are circling in broad-winged silent grace and their squelch carries across the wilderness.  Huge cobwebs of lichens trail  from tree to tree in the vast forest. The roots are deeply embedded in the black-green moss, in a a sea of fungus.  A muggy vegetable air hangs under the countless firs.  It is good to be alive again