Finally caught up with my friend Melissa. She lives on the other side of the island. She’s depressed, trying to find her way, wanting to make good sense of the bad crazy blowing up around us. The usual. I’m sitting outside of Donkey Balls drinking coffee. The usual. She tells me that at 12:12p.m. on this day of 12/12/12, Kahunas will be doing a group mediation all around the island and holding ceremony on the volcano.
As I commiserate with her about the end of an age, whatever that ultimately means, and the idiocracy we’ve become, trying to find band-aid words to make her feel better, knowing that the real dilemma is the difference between what she wants to hear from me and what she needs to hear in herself, the manager comes bustling out of the store.
“The lights just went out. Did you do that,” he jokes.
Power outage. Not just the store, but the whole town. I tell Melissa this and we laugh nervously at the timing and wonder if the Kahunas are behind it. Then, the line goes dead. I try to call her back but my cell service is out. The manager’s, too–and he’s on a different phone plan.
Now that the power is out and cell towers are down I think, ‘I need to get home and be a part of this group meditation.’
I have about fifteen minutes and I live up the street so it’s no problem making the deadline, if there is one. I don’t know–I’ve never done a group meditation long distance, up close, or at all.
I strip down and stand in the middle of my bedroom. Fat, naked haole anticipating that magical energy that is more me than me taking over. Haven’t done this in far too long. In a snap it moves me around in poses and gestures and exercises that are mostly familiar. Some not. I am like this for about 2 hours.
Somewhere in there I start dancing hula. Hula dancing holds great and many meanings to the Hawaiian people but I am uneducated in those meanings. That doesn’t stop the body from dancing and expressing hula.
By the end of the 2 hours I’m resting on my side on my bed in a “lying Buddha” pose recognizable from statues. The body is wafting in a current of energy. This is typical more me than me behavior. The energy sits me up, stands me up. I’m sort of a half-and-half being: half me and still half more me than me. The normal me gets dressed and pours a glass of water. The more me than me observes every facet of those dull actions with great delight. Every movement of every joint; every scent with each step from room to room to out of the house… They’re all colors of one beautiful, joyous tapestry to more me than me.
I’m exhausted and exhilarated by an experience that does not exist in these descriptions. It exists between words, between sounds, like jazz. There is something about this energy and these movements that get me high, is the only way I can think to put it. But now I’m high and walking down the highway (no pun intended; just caught it in the reread.) Walking with purpose. Walking to the edge of town. Where am I walking to? I don’t know and I decide not to find out because, frankly, less me than me is like, “Fuck this. I’m not walking to the middle of nowhere and getting stranded.”
Where would I have ended up? I’ll never know.
As I sit and write this, not giving a shit that I sound like a crazy man, I can’t help but wonder if the Kahunas knew I was meditating with them. Do they all get in that zone, too? If so, I’m sure they know more about it than I. Perhaps they can use it in some way. Perhaps they phoned in the hula to this body and I served a function, holding it down in South Kona.
But then I think, ‘Wait a sec. Why would Hawaiian spiritual folks be doing anything at 12:12 on 12/12/12? Do they go by the Gregorian calendar? They’re holding ceremony on the 21st, too–How can they just switch to the Maya calendar like that?’
Now I wonder if what’s important aren’t dates so much as a vast quantity of human consciousness focused at once. People are focused on these two days. So maybe, if you know how, you can influence human consciousness by tapping it while it’s concentrating on a singular point. And maybe such concentration has its own influence, which is why holidays create an uptick in celebration as well as tragedy. Maybe these special days are when everything goes to eleven and so if you’re mentally deranged you’re more liable to succumb to your lesser impulses around the magical times of year.
I don’t know. All I know is that at 12:21a.m. on 12/21 I’ll be fat and naked again.
Ah… but will I dance the hula?