Salvation and a Slaw Dog

Sunday was my date with G. It rained. It rained really really hard at some points...so, no dice. (There is no such thing as global warming.) I didnt even call Willie, and surprise! he didnt call me. There is progress, just imperceptable.


Sunday being a day of recovery and reflection, I remembered something I wanted to share.

On my way home from the uplifting week I had in St. Augustine, I was thinking of a leisurely trip rather than same-ole-I-10. I was also searching for a pack of papers, couldnt remember where I put them. Maybe there was a good song on the radio, dunno, but I missed the exit for 295. Here I go through Jacksonville. I get off at Baymeadows, I get off at University - I believe I stopped at two stores per exit - Nobody sells papers. Is this a new thing? Blunt lobbyists putting on the squeeze or what? 'Cause it cannot be an herb crackdown - they are still selling blunts, singles, packs, new flavors even. I check out a map in one of these affected stores.

I decided to take Highway-90 home. I have to travel a little way on I-10, but I get off at Olustee. I pull into the store at the exit. I am distanced from city politics, and certainly Someone in Olustee still rolls his own...

No. No papers. but check what happened.

Mind you, I am floating on a natural high. Not even really needing the joint, just what I do, so I was making conventional road trip preparations. I cannot be brought low this day, my feet merely brush the pavement, my head - though fully connected - seems to hover in the upper atmosphere so that the perspective through which I am experiencing the world is an etherial one, my chest expands beyond my body with each breath as if supplying many more than I with air. i am encased in a calm that has no edges, no weight, no time.

I walk in the unassuming store, pretty podunk, passing no judgment. I ask for papers and an Asian woman (I cannot distinguish, being ingorant of the continent's cultures) says,
"No. No papers" and "Would you like to say this?" All in 3/4 of one second.

She was motioning to a clear plastic letter-sized stand-alone frame on the counter. To it was taped a handwritten message. As the question was more a directive than a request, I begin to repeat after her, each word, each time. (If you are participating too, the "g" is a hard sound)

Nam myo ho ren ge kyo.
Nam myo ho ren ge kyo.
Nam myo ho ren ge kyo.

She reads my mind "asking" me if I would like her to write it down for me, though she is already writing. As she does so I read the description of the prayer or chant I have just learned. Of course I dont remember what it said - except Happiness, and understanding the worth of life - your life, all life.

In a convenience store in Olustee. okay. why question?

then i drove away with mind wandering and speedometer climing. I pass a YellowJacket and he yokes it. Lovely. My mood is such that not even this disturbs me. The bushes begin to wave and rustle. I remember Kerri saying how much the plants love us, and I imagine them waving a smoke signal to the energies on my behalf. I clear my mind, then imagine love and compassion evaporating from my pores. I ask nothing, for I was speeding, and continue to concentrate on compassion.

He's back there for a really long time. He approaches and says,
"You have a pretty horrendous driving record."
Wounded, I say,
"I was doing pretty good for a while...!"
"Yes, and that is why I am giving you an $85 ticket instead of one for $269."
"Thank you, sir."
"Slow it down now."
"Yes sir."

Anybody curious or inclined to research, let me know if you find/know anything about the prayer - origin, exact translation. I can tell you, that when I speak it aloud, by the third, my body is calm, my heart is light, my mind is humble.

And this, friends, is only one of those pieces that fell and fit the emerging picture that I spoke of in the first post.
Heaven awaits at the Suwannee Swifty.