Sitting by water's edge after first full on swim into the ocean's swells, to over my head at times, snorkeling (and sputtering) and gazing through goggles intermittently filling with briny effluence, tiny tiger-striped flat bodied fish, barracuda and one funky fish I believe was a parrot, schools of tiny darting dancing fingerling sized swimmers, several spotted schooling species, and not a single shark nor stingray in sight to cause a fright.
Waves lifting my scarcely buoyant body, then down again, blowing hard to clear the airway and standing tiptoe to empty goggles blurred by leaks around beard hairs, rubbing saltiness out my eyes, then down again to gaze at the wonder of what just a few boulders draw in from the depths. And whilst enjoying these new experiencings, hoping the waves will wash away sorrows and ills of the world have sullied me lately, that perhaps they'll sink to the ocean floor as I'm elevated with each swell of the surf, floating back to freedom.
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Buy Memories and Musings of a Post-Postmodern Nomadic Mystic Madman NOW !!
Have you ever heard a half-ton bump in the night? seen a skinwalker scurry across the road in the deep desert or a bioluminescent faerie fly within feet of your face in a rain forest swamp? observed your lover turn her face into the face of another in the midst of intimacies? In this extraordinary account of travels and travails, mad devotion and crazy wisdom, author Jeffrey Charles Archer tells true tales of his magical and sometimes absurd journeys in time, space and mind that call into question much of what the modern world calls reality.
Insightful and provocative, Archer's candid and scarcely believable tellings grant a view of the life of a modern mendicant, a pilgrim on the trail of truth like so many others who have renounced the tracked and plotted path proscribed them by society's strictures and hit the road to find themselves and what is true of this life. The accounts offered in this amazing narrative grant a glimpse of the world of those postmodern (post-postmodern?) mendicants yet to be found wandering America and the span of the globe, sometimes seen walking the border between consumer capitalism's excess and the wilderness, between suburban malaise and heaven on earth, hiking on the shoulder of the highway with a backpack and a dog and thumb extended, conveying an unusual aura and a divine smile meets the passerby . . .
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