I played in the shallow end during that LSD trip until Rama asked Sal, who was not tripping, to drive me home. When we arrived at my apartment I felt lucid, creative, fearless. I started to say whatever popped into my mind. Sal looked surprised. He looked at me as if I were someone else.
Sal offered to take me for a walk. With my arms dangling and torso bent, I moved like an injured ape. But gradually I slouched with Sal's support down the hill to the beach.
"Look, Mark," said Sal. "There's the ocean."
I looked to the frozen snapshot of the sea. I blinked and the waves rolled closer—then they froze again. Then I saw whales diving and breaching in slow motion. I found myself among them. We swam together. We spoke a silent language I thought I never knew. I felt complete. They accepted me.
"Are you okay?" asked Sal, holding me up.
I longed for the freedom to roam. I longed for the support of community. I looked to the sea, but the whales were gone.
Later that day I overheard Sal say to Rama, "You know, Mark is really bright."
"Of course he is," Rama replied, snapping his fingers. "He's quick."
I appreciated the compliment. But I wondered, "How could I be bright and quick if I was also possessed and non-functional?"
The memory of the Malibu trip was fresh on my mind when I arrived in the Anza Borrego Desert and approached Casa Del Zorro. Soon I sat waiting in the cottage with Sal, Bill, and Al. Rama arrived late. He looked doughy faced and haggard. He said he was stressed out and exhausted. Perhaps he was in more of a rut than we were.