I found my spiritual experience
Tonight I went to a Jason Webley May Day event.
The invitation was in code...
MAY DAY, MAY DAY
The alarm sounds,
Lights are flashing.
Panic pours in through every crack, every little opening,
It has a frenzied rhythm, and traces of a tune.
Confident and seductive, it reaches for your hand.
You can see the others beginning to dance all around you,
So full of fear and purpose.
They are dancing, and they are singing,
Their voices weave together into an unintelligible tangle of syllables.
Tysx wo.
Ovofox ovofox ZW.
Ckuewk Fsogzysxd.
Gocd yp Kqek Fobno yx Lykd Cdbood.
Lbsxq ovofox moxdc,
Kxn gokb cywodrsxq gkbw.
And you know exactly what they are singing -
This ship is going down.
He grasps your hand and pulls you to him.
You feel his heartbeat, taste his breath,
He is strong and his movements are familiar,
Your body knows this song well,
It moves of its own accord,
And you see yourself surrendering to his lead.
Then it occurs to you that your partner,
Has not once looked you in the eyes.
You pull away.
He is indifferent,
There are many others to dance with.
You watch and wait.
You refocus your eyes.
Take eleven long breaths,
And walk eleven small steps.
An alarm has sounded, yes.
But what will you do?
Do you cling to the mast and go down with the ship?
Or throw yourself into the freezing sea?
Either way,
The water is coming.
To wash us,
To drown us,
To water us like a seed.
Take eleven long breaths,
Eleven small steps,
And listen to their song again.
Tysx wo.
Ovofox ovofox ZW.
Ckuewk Fsogzysxd.
Gocd yp Kqek Fobno yx Lykd Cdbood.
Lbsxq ovofox moxdc,
Kxn gokb cywodrsxq gkbw.
The ship has always been sinking.
And it always will be.
The text translates to:
JOIN ME.
ELEVEN ELEVEN PM.
ON THE FIRST OF MAY.
SAKUMA VIEWPOINT.
WEST OF AGUA VERDE ON BOAT STREET.
BRING ELEVEN CENTS,
AND WEAR SOMETHING WARM.
I put off deciding until the last minute. My batteries have felt like they're continuously flashing "PLEASE CONNECT TO CHARGER" for the past month or so, I have work in the morning, and I had heard that the last event of this type involved waiting in the cold for two hours and not actually getting to see the Exciting Thing. Then, I was at a different party around 10pm explaining to a friend the set-up of the invitation and the Cult That Is Jason, and she remarked "It sounds like you really want to go."
And I really did. So I left the party and drove alone along a dark winding road, into a neighborhood I'm not familiar with, down to the waterfront underneath I-5.
When I saw a group of people huddled together, I knew I was in the right place. We were overlooking a small park on the water, where a Maypole was set up surrounded by dancers in orange and white and yellow. Two couples played checkers with turnips and brussel sprouts for game pieces. In the middle of it all, a young woman played the accordion on a pedestal decorated with a bright orange boat banner (picture at the bottom). We entered as a group.
And that's where it started getting disappointing. You see, I was there to observe, to soak it in, to immerse myself in the experience. I wanted to feel the energy of participating in something new and strange and unexpected as a group. Others were apparently there to talk about what they had seen on TV, loudly reminisce about how long they had known Jason, and quote Monty Python. Many of us got involved in dancing around the Maypole and singing Webley songs along with the accordion player, but even she couldn't keep their attention for long. After a while of rolling around in the grass, I realized I was the only one dancing. I also noticed a sign "Ferry Rides: 11 cents", and a small boat filled with people just taking off. 'Aha,' I thought. 'This is a line.' And then 'Because I've been dancing, I'm not in the line. Instead, the people who huddled off to talk to their friends are at the front. Hmmph.'
I did a quick calculation in my head, assuming 100 people at the event and 11 people per ferry ride and probably 15 minutes per trip, and wasn't encouraged. I wasn't sure if I should wait, hoping that people would become impatient and clear out, or if I should just go home. I wondered if it would be rude to check my twitter. I sat on the grass, 11 cents clutched in my hand, waiting for Something To Happen.
And then it did. The ferry came back, empty. They starting letting people one by one onto the dock. And then, they had room for one more. The couple in front wanted to go together. As did the pair behind them, the trio behind them, asking further and further back "Is anyone a single?"
I stepped up, from the side where I'd been sitting. "I'd like to go."
And then I paid my 11 cents and we were on the boat, and it was everything I'd imagined. Everyone was silent. A dancer painted white at the prow of the boat handed us mason jars, then filled them with a murky liquid. She smiled, then led us in a ritual of anointing our sternum, our third eye, taking a sip, tossing the liquid into the water. We were silent, and our mouths tasted like vegetables and the earth. It's hard to describe, but I felt completely peaceful and content in the dark in the boat in the water, surrounded by strangers and knowing they were all feeling what I was. Finally we pulled up to a different dock, and were presented with a scroll containing a story and a packet of magic beans.
I walked back to my car, stopping briefly to grab my coat in the park. People were still talking, everyone was still ignoring the accordion and the dancers, but it didn't seem to bother me as much.
And then I was home, and in bed, and then it was now.
Goodnight, world.
The invitation was in code...
MAY DAY, MAY DAY
The alarm sounds,
Lights are flashing.
Panic pours in through every crack, every little opening,
It has a frenzied rhythm, and traces of a tune.
Confident and seductive, it reaches for your hand.
You can see the others beginning to dance all around you,
So full of fear and purpose.
They are dancing, and they are singing,
Their voices weave together into an unintelligible tangle of syllables.
Tysx wo.
Ovofox ovofox ZW.
Ckuewk Fsogzysxd.
Gocd yp Kqek Fobno yx Lykd Cdbood.
Lbsxq ovofox moxdc,
Kxn gokb cywodrsxq gkbw.
And you know exactly what they are singing -
This ship is going down.
He grasps your hand and pulls you to him.
You feel his heartbeat, taste his breath,
He is strong and his movements are familiar,
Your body knows this song well,
It moves of its own accord,
And you see yourself surrendering to his lead.
Then it occurs to you that your partner,
Has not once looked you in the eyes.
You pull away.
He is indifferent,
There are many others to dance with.
You watch and wait.
You refocus your eyes.
Take eleven long breaths,
And walk eleven small steps.
An alarm has sounded, yes.
But what will you do?
Do you cling to the mast and go down with the ship?
Or throw yourself into the freezing sea?
Either way,
The water is coming.
To wash us,
To drown us,
To water us like a seed.
Take eleven long breaths,
Eleven small steps,
And listen to their song again.
Tysx wo.
Ovofox ovofox ZW.
Ckuewk Fsogzysxd.
Gocd yp Kqek Fobno yx Lykd Cdbood.
Lbsxq ovofox moxdc,
Kxn gokb cywodrsxq gkbw.
The ship has always been sinking.
And it always will be.
The text translates to:
JOIN ME.
ELEVEN ELEVEN PM.
ON THE FIRST OF MAY.
SAKUMA VIEWPOINT.
WEST OF AGUA VERDE ON BOAT STREET.
BRING ELEVEN CENTS,
AND WEAR SOMETHING WARM.
I put off deciding until the last minute. My batteries have felt like they're continuously flashing "PLEASE CONNECT TO CHARGER" for the past month or so, I have work in the morning, and I had heard that the last event of this type involved waiting in the cold for two hours and not actually getting to see the Exciting Thing. Then, I was at a different party around 10pm explaining to a friend the set-up of the invitation and the Cult That Is Jason, and she remarked "It sounds like you really want to go."
And I really did. So I left the party and drove alone along a dark winding road, into a neighborhood I'm not familiar with, down to the waterfront underneath I-5.
When I saw a group of people huddled together, I knew I was in the right place. We were overlooking a small park on the water, where a Maypole was set up surrounded by dancers in orange and white and yellow. Two couples played checkers with turnips and brussel sprouts for game pieces. In the middle of it all, a young woman played the accordion on a pedestal decorated with a bright orange boat banner (picture at the bottom). We entered as a group.
And that's where it started getting disappointing. You see, I was there to observe, to soak it in, to immerse myself in the experience. I wanted to feel the energy of participating in something new and strange and unexpected as a group. Others were apparently there to talk about what they had seen on TV, loudly reminisce about how long they had known Jason, and quote Monty Python. Many of us got involved in dancing around the Maypole and singing Webley songs along with the accordion player, but even she couldn't keep their attention for long. After a while of rolling around in the grass, I realized I was the only one dancing. I also noticed a sign "Ferry Rides: 11 cents", and a small boat filled with people just taking off. 'Aha,' I thought. 'This is a line.' And then 'Because I've been dancing, I'm not in the line. Instead, the people who huddled off to talk to their friends are at the front. Hmmph.'
I did a quick calculation in my head, assuming 100 people at the event and 11 people per ferry ride and probably 15 minutes per trip, and wasn't encouraged. I wasn't sure if I should wait, hoping that people would become impatient and clear out, or if I should just go home. I wondered if it would be rude to check my twitter. I sat on the grass, 11 cents clutched in my hand, waiting for Something To Happen.
And then it did. The ferry came back, empty. They starting letting people one by one onto the dock. And then, they had room for one more. The couple in front wanted to go together. As did the pair behind them, the trio behind them, asking further and further back "Is anyone a single?"
I stepped up, from the side where I'd been sitting. "I'd like to go."
And then I paid my 11 cents and we were on the boat, and it was everything I'd imagined. Everyone was silent. A dancer painted white at the prow of the boat handed us mason jars, then filled them with a murky liquid. She smiled, then led us in a ritual of anointing our sternum, our third eye, taking a sip, tossing the liquid into the water. We were silent, and our mouths tasted like vegetables and the earth. It's hard to describe, but I felt completely peaceful and content in the dark in the boat in the water, surrounded by strangers and knowing they were all feeling what I was. Finally we pulled up to a different dock, and were presented with a scroll containing a story and a packet of magic beans.
I walked back to my car, stopping briefly to grab my coat in the park. People were still talking, everyone was still ignoring the accordion and the dancers, but it didn't seem to bother me as much.
And then I was home, and in bed, and then it was now.
Goodnight, world.