Plum Mead (Day 4)

Late in the morning we went to the farm kitchen. Coffee, salad, chocolate etc.. Met with our host, Steve, and learned of his spirit guide. Redwood table. Redwood cabinets. A leaning, dark, naked piano.

Susan sat on a picnic bench and worked on employment. I trained in the sunshine. Squats with garden stones. Sock fisted pull-ups. Then, digging around the garden with Archie, the dog.

We came down out of the hills into Little River. The sapphire ocean glinted in the sunlight, a more impressive blue than the clear sky. White cream waves frothed. Bull kelp nodded. The great cliffs were scooped out by a wide stream leaving a pebbly, black sand beach. Parked just behind the beach was a rusty, yellow bus, advertising sea cave tours in bubble letters. We joined the gathering group: kids, missionary wanna-be’s. I stripped down and got into a wetsuit.

The lot of us kayaked out into the waves and the opal, jade water, sunlight filtering down in rays through the bland, salty kelp. The swell was rough and prevented the exploration of all but one cave, but we still kayaked for more than an hour and watched the seals and listened to the screaming oyster catchers.

Afterward, we followed our guide over land to an old grave yard, back on a well trodden dirt path, through a cut in the fence, to a cauldron cut deep in the earth by waves and blowouts. Down, down we clamored, one at a time, holding a weathered nylon rope, without shoes at the behest of our guide. At the bottom, the ocean waves roared through a sea cave onto a small beach. Trees had fallen headlong into the bowl. The steep walls were papered in ferns and orange columbines. Nature sculpted this cathedral. Inside it, I was above prejudice felt the need to tap out a rhythm, engage the young missionary in drumming. There was tree music and real music and bonded experience.

I’m the evening, we walked along the grassy cliffs of Mendocino. Wildflowers and white-capped sparrows. Some cliffs were shear drops to boiling waves and sea caves. Some melted more slowly. On the latter, we climbed over rocky, alien worlds looking at water pools. The seas of Neptune might look something similar.

Dinner from the town market, brought home and shared with Steve. Red blend conversation. Vibrations, rhythms, thought manifestations, subconscious realities. Plum mead and rose elixir before bed. Susan and I both had strange, vivid dreams.