Thanks for tuning in! I had a birthday camping trip that really blew!...my mind, that is. It blew my mind. A couple of f(r)iends bought me a ticket to go see the Dead (Formerly, the Grateful Dead). It was at the Gorge. For those of you who don't know about the Gorge Amphitheater in Central Washington, it is by far, the best natural place in the world to see an epic concert.
W-w-what happened was I got a hold of some really powerful drugs and as it turns out the little buggers gotta hold of me. The 1st night of camping (prior to the big show) was shroom night. That one went okay. It was actually pretty cool seeing peoples' faces swirling around and pulsating like faces aren't really supposed to do. Nonetheless, it did render me somewhat anti-social as I was not able to form sentences. Nor, was I able to understand the words coming out of other peoples' mouths.
It was day 2 that really flipped my switch, so to speak. The blotter was slow, but powerful. Being an amateur, I should have really stuck with only one. But, call it fate or call it stupidity, whatever the reason was - I ate 3. That turned out to be at least 2 too many. So, again, I lost all ability to function socially. By now, we (me and my 2 buddies) were on the hill watching the sun set on the Columbia River and the Allman Bros. rocking on the stage. When the paranoia set in I was in need of some serious reassurance from my pals. Unfortunately, they offered none. My mind and ego began to melt away like the hills in the background of my view. The sunglasses (which I normally never wear) could not hide the obvious terror that was coursing through my being.
As the sun finally retreated beneath the horizon, the Dead took the stage and the sky gave way to twinkling stars which seemed to mock me with their disdain and disapproval. The faces of the folks in the grass and on the walkways were in no way sympathetic to my plight. At some point, I felt I could no longer endure the company of my companions and I left them on the hill surrounded by a veritable mass of humanity. This became a problem due to the fact that I abandoned my shoes, socks and Nikon along with any shred of hope I had for salvaging the evening. After a couple of minutes of walking I turned around and realized there was no possibility of finding my friends among the throngs of people crowded on that hill. This was a mass of humanity unrivaled by anything I had experienced save the Daytona 500.
My terror gave way to panic when my pals wouldn't answer my cell phone calls. After much pointless and directionless walking, I realized that my only hope was to walk back to the campsite. This campsite just so happened to be about a mile walk down a dirty, rocky, painful path. Only a man in absolute desperation would have walked barefoot down this road to try find some solace. I was that tripping, loathing desperate man. I have to admit that at this point (via phone call), I asked some folks very close to me for prayer. I felt like I had to do this because I believed that my prayers, though earnest, were not reaching Heaven due to my spiritual condition.
Once I made it back to the camping area, I realized that I had no idea where my campsite was. It was very dark and chaotic in this area. The entire camping area was a thriving open drug market where mischief and confusion reined supreme. I stumbled around from walkway to walkway in vain trying to find some place of rest and comfort. There was no peace to be had. Each road I took led to the wrong campsite and hordes of unhelpful hippies who laughed at my dilemma. My requests for help were met with laughter, scorn and derision. The one thing I sort of remembered about my camping area was that it was near some Honeybuckets (port-a-potties) with a number 32 on them. After, some very dark and lonely hours of walking down the wrong paths, I finally took a big chance and went down the darkest most unlit path of them all. This is when I found the Honeybuckets with a sign that said #32. This is also about when my friends finally called me back and said they were on their way to meet with me. Luckily for me, the little red sliver on the power indicator was enough for that phone call to go through successfully. Against all odds, my phone did not die and neither did I for that matter. As foolish as I am, even I realized, that it was God who helped me make it out of this mess.
Well, after much hassle and confusion, not to mention several hours, I finally made it back to my tent. I wrapped myself in my sleeping back and waited until the drugs finally subsided. They eventually did and my ego returned. The evil that I felt surrounding me began to dissipate and I found rest.
Things became clear to me in a whole new way as a result of this experience. In the morning, I was a new human being. The death of the old version of me was a painful but needed one. My friends were in a deep near-coma do to the excessive drinking and doping, but I was finally able to wake them in order to leave. While packing my tent and gear into my truck, all I could think about was the journey. Not the journey from Seattle to Central Washington, mind you. Rather, the lifelong spiritual journey of which I had just changed course. For the past year, I had tricked myself into a denial of God. I allowed the spiritual climate of the Northwest and the faithlessness of many of my friends to steer me away from my Creator. My upbringing was one of faith, love and peace. Vanity is a powerful sin that can cause a man to lose his way. Lucky for me, by the mercy of God I was able to get back on track.
"We all want progress. But progress means getting nearer to the place where you want to be. And if you have taken a wrong turning, then to go forward does not get you any nearer. If you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; and in that case the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive man." - C.S. Lewis
