the day I didn’t levitate
I never have levitated, mind you; but I wanted to share a story about the day I
likely had my best chance. Nathan and I are on our lunch break, having already
secured a big load of cedar sawdust — our major chore today. I was catching up on
the news and read a story that mentioned the Harmonic Convergence. It took me
back.
(dreamy transition music, probably involving harps)
I was working in the L.A. area in the summer of 1987 when the New Age power elite
announced that a rare alignment of planets August 16-17 would usher in an era of
peace and love. I was keen to see this because I had been in the Marine Corps when
the Age of Aquarius dawned and immediately dimmed.
So off I trundled to Mount Shasta in northern California, supposedly one of the
prime places on the planet to witness the changeover. I had gone to some meet-
ings to spiritually prepare for this. Most of the other attendees were of the my-
aura-is-brighter-than-your-aura ilk. I quit before I caught crystal envy.
I drove up Shasta as far as I could, to an altitude of about 10,000 feet. They were
several hundred others there. I circulated in the false hope that psychedelics
would be abundant. Alas, there was only a glut of hucksters. I was assured that
the main event would be at dawn. The change would be so monumental that we’d
all levitate. I returned to my car to rest up for that.
In the middle of the night I awoke freezing in the mountain air. Since I was living
in my car, I had my entire wardrobe with me. I piled it over me and formed a warm
burrow. I didn’t wake up until 10 a.m. Everyone was gone. I briefly entertained the
thought that they had floated away: auras, crystals, Birkenstocks, VW vans, Volvos,
BMW’s and all.
But the more I woke up, the more I hypothesized that they much more likely arose
in the cold sunrise, sipped organic beverages and slowly realized that yet another
asshole got it wrong. I hope they drove home a bit wiser. I wonder if any of them
believed Harold Camping’s recent miscalculation on the Rapture.
The trip wasn’t a total waste. I got out of L.A. for awhile during a rash of freeway
shootings. And when I stopped for breakfast in Graeagle on the drive back, I found
a copy of a Tom Robbins novel I’d long been looking for.
