This weekend alone could write a novel. I’m going to do my best to explain this, but I’m not sure about a lot of things right now.
Nine people and a dog piled themselves and their weekend luggage into an unregistered, uninsured, barely running pick-up on a Thursday afternoon. After a quick stop at Blane’s Burgers they shortly made another stop at Enterprise to rectify the space issue. Enterprise had no cars, but Eli ran into a friend and decided to run off to his house with the dog.
With more room in the back, the drive to South Point passed more comfortably and we arrived at the southernmost point in the United States with only mild cramps.
After taking a quick jump off the 60-foot cliff, we loaded back into the car and drove to make camp at a field just inside a quiet cove.
The night passed, talking of the universality of beings, their inherent slavery and, of course, the impending Revolution. Melissa, Sharon, Matt, and I actually spoke honestly for once. Nobody really wanted to argue humanity’s oneness because it’s so core to our new friends’ value systems, but Melissa called reincarnation into question, startling Max and Jesiah who had taken this belief for universally granted. The Revolution—which consists of a simultaneous, worldwide elevation of consciousness to the plane of united existence, whereby disarming and revising the world’s governments and economies—was discussed at least into rational terms. There’s a lot to pick at that one, but it’s frustrating and invasive trying to make an obstinate person see your way, and everyone I’ve met here is more obstinate and positive of life’s meaning than the previous. I’m glad they’re happy, I just don’t think remotely like them. It makes conversation difficult sometimes.
Anyways, we made it to the Green Sand Beach today. Simply put, it was amazing. A volcanic, dusty plain breaks without warning into a deep, oceanside gulch between sandstone cliffs that house positively emerald green sand. Beautiful weather and water made the beach the most lovely I’ve ever seen.
Instead of returning to the farm, however, we are sleeping at Eli’s friend, Enoch’s house in Ocean View—which is actually a former Native American church that Enoch has picked up as a neighborhood mediation center. “People come to find themselves,” he says. I’m not convinced that he can find the deed to the place, however.
Enoch has three children, none of which live with him but with whom he feels a strong spiritual bond. One of the women he lives with also has a child but is unfortunately kept from her during this transition to Hawaii. The other woman, Tiffany, is about as exciting as a Triscuit.
After an evening of listening to America bashing, love professing, and the sweet guitar of Jesiah Love, I have retired to the back room of a building which I am not entirely sure is not being squatted in.
