Talking to Carlos

What Lou looks like when I am on Peyote







I just shake my head. What are we doing out here... why? We could be in town eating at a little outdoor cafe', drinking beer and fucking around with the local women.
But no, Carlos Castenada here wants to go on a Vision Quest a thousand yards from an armed border that we will have to run across at some point in time.I can't believe I ate this shit. I swallow more and more of the awesome breakfast burrito that Mike made me as I try to put something good on top of something really bad.
It is a stupid waste of time. Although I have never eaten peyote before, I know what happens. You get pretty sick to your stomach, and then you trip your balls off. But I am thinking that the feeling in my gut is the sickness. Nope, that is just the vile taste of the peyote churning in there with the added volume of the burrito. It all stays in place, for the time being. I realize the total waste of consuming any food at all to try to put off the inevitable.

We are talking about the diamonds, about Justin, and how we may get them back. Lou thinks that he might have been the one that brought the diamonds for trade, that Artero Montoya... whom he claimed he worked for, is just a pawn in this game. If this is true, then there is certainly more to Justin Zildgen than meets the eye.

My stomach is churning. Lou's head hangs low between his shoulders as he sits next to me. He moves his feet apart and then pukes between them. I turn away, but to slow to keep from seeing.I vomit heavily, with enough force to put out a roof fire. I hear Lou laughing between his wretching. It is about a minute of sickness, of wishing I had never agreed to any of this, of wishing Lou had eaten all of it so I would be the one laughing. But when I catch my breath, when I finally raise my head after the churning in my gut passes, I am looking out onto a whole new world.
At first it is just the brilliance of things, the colors and fine lines... contrast. It is as though I have hypervision, perfect clarity allowing me to see the movement of everything around me. It is quite subtle at first, but as I let it in, it becomes part of my experience.
Because of this wonder, the first of many, I forget about Lou, about the border crossing, about Mitch and the rescue. I am overwhelmed with the nature around me and the communion I feel.

As I watch a scorpion move from one spot to another, I sense its purpose... I see it's journey and destination. When I move to pick it up, a hand reaches out and grasps my forearm.
"No... " The voice is deep and resonant... one that I haven't heard before. I turn and it is just Lou. I will realize after all of this is over how important it is to have a guide with you. Someone who has taken this journey before and knows the dangers.
He turns me toward him and I look at his face. It is younger but wiser some how. Gone are the lines in his face that showed worry and anguish. He is bright with light, even in the scorching daylight sun he seems to glow on his own. In his hand is the hat that I was wearing earlier. I put it on when it is offered.
Lou takes the hose of his Camelback and takes a swallow. I do the same, marvelling at the cool clean water as it washes around inside my gullet.We sit in the shade once more, cross-legged in the desert sand. Lou begins to talk to me. I don't see his lips move, so I no longer look at him, but to the desert.
He tells me about Carlos Castenada, about learning to fly with the Yaqui Shaman named don Juan Matus. He talks of the Nagual that he had met on his last journey... the shapeshifter, a coyote. As I listen to him, my mind travels and his voice is just an echo.

I stare into the horizon. What was Seguaro cactus, scrub and sand, is now an almost neon display of life that had been hidden from view. In the mid-afternoon sun everything in my view is in motion. Clouds that hung lifeless in the sky now move with what looks like the crashing of waves on a blue beach. The sand at my feet moves in a circular motion, drawing me in as if in a whirlpool. I grow out, extra arms and legs, like the roots of a mighty oak, and hold my ground as the earth gives way beneath my feet.
I am in the air, no ground below me, nothing around me but the brilliant blue of the sky and the blazing sun. I hear Lou speaking to me... telling me to pull back. I look around me and see nothing; no rock, no Lou, no border crossing, nothing but a bird. It is black and doesn't look as though it belongs here.Lou's voice gets louder as the bird flaps lazily toward me. I try to watch it as it flies across the sun. I don't shield my eyes and when it passes I am temporarily blinded by the flash. When my eyes see again it is the bird, as big as a man, with Lou's eyes and voice. Man am I tripping.
Time must be passing, but I am not aware of it. I do know that the shocking glare of the afternoon sun has mellowed and the heat, which was like that of hell itself has dissipated. I have stayed on Lou's wing, so to speak, since he spoke to me last. We have taken flight, over and above the bodies that are below us sitting cross-legged in the sand. He wings over toward the line of the border and I stay with him. I do not question this, nor do I look too hard at the fragile nature of this illusion. I am here because I believe. If I have any doubt I am sure to fall to my death.Over the border now, the air is sweet with cactus bloom. But there is another smell that we soon come upon. Death mingles with the smell of earth and sky. Parched bones of a not so fortunate traveler lay pleading with the desert for one more breath, one more drop of moisture, none of which would ever come for him. A bony finger points toward the spire of rock that takes rise a several hundred yards away.

We swoop down, the air like a blast furnace on my face as we jet toward the monolithic rise in the desert floor. I can hear Lou, talking to himself as he guides us to the top of the monolith. There we perch, still black birds in the stark afternoon light. With a keen eye we look toward the north and there we see him, the white cotton of his new clothing marking the spot where he has fallen.

Lou turns on the spire and I turn with him. He scoots out to the edge and then leaps, spreading his wings. I follow, staying with his every move. We circle above the white linen, catching a thermal… riding it in wide, lazy circle as we gain our altitude. As we make our way, I look up into the heavens. The flash of sunlight blinds me and I close my eyes. In that instant I fall, like an elevator in a tall building. I hold my hands over my eyes and feel the beating of my heart, the wind rushing in my ears as I accelerate toward the desert below.

Then it is Lou’s voice, talking to someone. The wind is gone, the heat… gone, the feeling of falling now replaced with the feeling of sand under my ass and legs. I am still sitting cross legged in the shade.

Lou speaks to someone… a coyote, and in a tongue I don’t recognize. He gets to his feet and begins a slow shuffle, speaking in this language, talking to the coyote as he keeps pace in front of him. Soon I hear the drums, the drums that set the beat that Lou’s feet move to… first one step and a scoot, then the other foot takes a step and then a scoot. This goes on until I am up on my feet, the drums now wild in my ear. A fire, the largest I have ever seen, burns out of control and we dance around it, but it is light without heat.
The words that Lou has been mumbling take on form and we both chant the lines as we move around the firelight. Then, all at once, the fire is gone, the coyote stops and looks at us, then darts into the brush. I look at Lou, his aura glowing neon around him, and he looks back at me with assurance. He knows.

All is blackness. Movement of shadow, first one, then another, until we are in the middle of some kind of shadow migration. Lou turns, grabs my hand, and we are gone, running as quickly as we can through the desert.
Then I am on my own. I can see Lou’s aura ahead of me, guiding me. There are shadows moving with me, in front and behind. Several disappear before me, and then I too fall over the edge of the abyss and down the side of the small canyon, splashing into the small arroyo. I run, trying to catch up with Lou, but he is lost to me now.

I run until I am alone. No more shadow, no more migration. I am alone in the middle of the desert on a pitch black night. Then I see him, standing atop the monolith we had seen earlier that now is just ahead. I make the climb to the top and Lou takes a seat beside me. We look out onto the desert floor, and even in the pitch blackness we can see our mark lying motionless among the scrub.

Behind us, a helicopter flies the fence line, guiding a couple of Border Patrol vehicles to the ongoing movement of illegals making the journey we had just completed.

We have made it across, and have made a Vision Quest that I will remember to my dying day. With the hostage in sight, the next move will be ours to take.