Borderline Docs

5 11 2023

Just try to understand, I’ve given all I can. ‘Cause you got the best of me….Madonna, Borderline.

It was at the Mexican border where I began to fully grasp self-awareness.

My previous adventures always carried a sense of fantasy and escapism. In my mind, I had fancied myself this intrepid journalist, a swashbuckling Indiana Jones-like character, who traveled to far off lands to experience sensitory pleasure, diverse cultures and new customs.

This trip was different. I was playing with the grown-ups now.

So here we were, Daniel and I, motoring down to the border to meet with the mayor of Calexico and learn the truth behind one of the most hot button issues in America today. I felt confident, bolstered by enduring a pandemic inside that miserable warehouse, the political turmoil of the 2020 election and my recent service with the TSA.

It also helped to have Daniel by my side. His moxy was in full force.

“You’re going to walk from the medical center to city hall with the mayor,” he instructed.

It was a beautiful late autumn day in Imperial Valley. Full sun with a light breeze in the crisp air. I wore a short sleeved blue Panama Jack styled shirt and tan jeans. Daniel was in a suit. He had already established a relationship with the mayor through his work with the chamber.

“Just be yourself and you’ll be fine,” Daniel told me.

We met the mayor at a health clinic where a long line of people, primarily Mexicans, waited to be seen by a doctor, free of charge. The mayor was a tall man, handsome, in shape and likely around my age.

“Welcome to Calexico,” he said, smiling while extending his hand. I returned a firm grip and maintained eye contact, renewing a diplomatic ritual robbed by the pandemic.

“Let’s meet the doctor,” he said. We went inside the clinic and the mayor greeted everyone, making small talk and gushing over the babies. The overwelming majority were women and children. Come to find out, the men rarely seek out medical attention for fear of losing work time. This reminded me of a comment a TSA colleague had uttered on checkpoint: “You can’t get COVID if you don’t get tested.”

I felt guilty as we butted to the front of the line and into the doctor’s office. “Have a seat gentleman,” he said. The doctor was a bald, portly older white fellow who seemed to be in need of sleep. He explained to us that most of the patients were living in abject poverty and needed basic antibiotics to combat their various ailments. More resources were needed, the doctor said, and the mayor pledged to deliver.

After reassuring the doc, the mayor and I did the walk from the clinic to city hall as Daniel had directed. Along the way, several SUVs with dark tinted windows slowly rode by us. The mayor asked me about the Pacific Northwest and attitudes towards drugs. He said he had friends in southwest Washington state who were concerned the cartels were gaining a foothold in the region. Fentanyl, he warned, was having a devasting effect in Los Angeles and Phoenix.

We had lunch at a little mom and pop restaurant planted near the border crossing. Over enchiladas and chile rellenos, the mayor informed us of the power dynamics on the city council. Daniel proded him to seek a promotion and run for Congress, a proposal that drew a hearty chuckle. He was flattered, but not stupid. I got a sense, he had it good here and wanted to keep it that way. Everywhere we went, people nodded their respect.

Daniel picked up the bill and we walked the mayor out to his vehicle, a modest mid-sized SUV that was dusty and had seen some miles. “John, I want you to have something,” he said, opening the back door and digging into a brief case to pull out an evergreen colored folder with a thick set of papers inside. “Some reading for your return trip.”

I opened the folder and there on the first page was a government timestamp that read: Declassified, December 2, 1993.

Puzzled, I looked up only to see the mayor wink and drive away.


Comments : Leave a Comment »
Tags: ,
Categories : California, Medicine, Security

Thorough Clean-sing

11 08 2017

Osceola slept here.

Cristina asked that we all give up an addiction. She said we should grab a twig and toss it into the fire to symbolize the release of this addiction.

Moving around was quite challenging. The medicine was taking effect. I grabbed a branch and tossed it in. Carlos followed and did the same. Geraldo grabbed a whole stack and tossed it on the fire. The smoke funnelled up through the trees and Cristina began to sing again.

Some of the words I could make out. “Barricuda” “Santa Maria” and “Doma” I remember. I probably should not reveal too much as this was an exclusive gathering. Geraldo was pleased. He told Cristina he wished he had brought more of his family with him. There were times when I could not help but stare at him in silence. It was a display of respect.

Listening to the night and nature was fascinating. Cristina, with tears in her eyes, remarked how great it was to be moonbathing.

My bones began to crack like the flames shooting from our campfire as we each took turns drinking the Ayahuasca. Standing up and grabbing the branch to toss in was not easy. The terrain was rough. Although this area was populated by large neatly maintained farms, we were in “the woods.” During the ceremony some of the horses came near. In the dark I could only hear their musking noises — a sort of sneezing sound.

I sang some too.

Mostly humming to what reminded me of the Seminole war chant. My father took us to many Florida State University football games when we were young. Carlos seemed to know the chant too. If you know the legend of Chief Osceloa it helps. The brave native has become a recognizable symbol for the Tallahassee headquartered school.

I also had a tearful moment singing the biblical hymn, “When You Believe,” from The Prince of Egypt. The tears were more of a joyful confession than one of true sadness or sorrow. We were to let it all out, Geraldo had said. Release the past into the air.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, Cristiana asked that we all embrace each other. She hugged me tight and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Carlos was warm as well.

“Come here,” he said as he pulled me in for a hug.

Cristiana then directed Geraldo and I to hug each other and we did and it was like the kind brothers give after making up from a fight. Quick, back slaps and all.

As the full moon continued to rise I found myself tranqulized by its beauty and that of the southern sky. I would have preferred to sleep outside by the fire but the bugs were too much. The next day Geraldo and I drove back to Miami. We were happy and inspired and listened to music and laughed all the way home.

The past was gone. A new day had dawned. It was good to be alive.

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.” — Ernest Hemingway.

 

 

 


Comments : 1 Comment »
Tags: , , ,
Categories : Florida, Healing, Medicine

Ocala Can You Hear Me?

10 07 2017

OcalaFarm

In search of healing we were introduced to Ayahuasca by a Brazilian shaman. Geraldo arranged it. We drove north into horse country to find it.

I was surprised to get the last minute invitation. It came via a text late Friday night after I had deactivated my Facebook and realized I had no clue where my next paycheck would come from. Before I could wallow in self pity Geraldo rode to the rescue.

His best friend from South America was here.

Cristina was her name. She was powerful and wise. A mother of two children. Girlfriend to Carlos. Healer of many.

Before Geraldo and I found Cristina’s campground we drove through the rolling hillside farm country. Some of the farms were quite immaculate with freshly cut lawns and thoroughbred horses grazing the fields. The oak trees in this part of the country were large with thick clumps of moss hanging from their branches. They were an oasis for cattle herds from the sun’s mighty rays.

Geraldo had been in Ecuador. He was a heavy man now. He said our trek into the North Florida farmlands would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. He described it as an circle of healing — spiritual not sexual. That was good enough for me.

David gave his blessing and we left Pompano Beach in a brand new volkeswagen jetta. Early July and the heat in full effect. We made good time on the turnpike pushing into Ocala around the four-hour mark.

“You’re going to drink with us, John?” she asked as we approached the campfire.

“Yes,” I said.

Geraldo warned it could get ugly. Vomiting, diarreha of the worst. He advised I fast the night before and refrain from drugs and eating meat. This was a cleasening, he said…to decide who I wanted to be and to release the demons of the past.

Cristina helped with that. She wore a yellow feather in her hair. At the ceremony she dressed in a beautifully beaded long red dress. Carlos was ever at her side. He was standoffish at first but when we spoke was assured the cleansing from this Amazon vine was what we all needed.

Carlos, Geraldo and I gathered wood for the fire. For the ceremony, I laid on my wolf blanket from Yellowstone. The one Anne gave me. Four candles were placed around the fire pit. After lighting the fire, Cristinia offered the Ayahuasca. It was bitter and hard to swallow. I took one sip and gave the cup back. She encouraged me to finish the cup and I did.

Once the drink had been passed around the circle, Cristina began to sing her native songs with accompaniment on the drums and guitar by Carlos. Her chants were passionate and in dialects I had never heard before. She moved around the fire, always stablizing herself in a yoga-like pose before another cry into the night. The Ayahuasca began to take its effect and soon my ears felt unclogged from years of swimming in cholrine dosed pools.

My senses began to peak. I could hear other sounds from the wild near and far. I could hear my heart beating again. It was a full moon rising….

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

 


Comments : Leave a Comment »
Tags: , , , ,
Categories : Brazil, Florida, Healing, Love, Medicine, Women