You’re sick of WordPress. It’s all you do. Not your blogs, mind you.
You’ve spent the last two weeks developing a website for the Old Mould Company garden products line (www.oldmouldgarden.wordpress.com)… photographing items, editing the images, uploading them, linking, tagging, formatting, measuring, naming, arranging… woof.
Too much time on WordPress. Manon suffers the same fate, on the www.slinabande.ie website. That’s what happens. You show an aptitude for computers (laugh.out.loud. YOU?!) and Marlene wants you working full time, updating and promoting her life.
Oh well. You suppose it beats working outside on tedious tasks such as gathering leaves and weeding–especially as the weather turns colder.
You don’t exactly have cabin fever. Not yet. But you are a bit sick of WordPress, which makes it more difficult to confront your own blogs. You’re sick of your aching Achilles, which somehow hasn’t recovered.
But other than that, you’re okay. As for sickness, a new event looms at the end of the month:
What is that, you ask?
To many, it’s a drug. A plant, actually, that makes you trip. Hard. Traditions of ayahuasca are entrenched in ceremony and aspiration for higher thinking. The universe, its secrets, are said to unfold.
The only problem is that you must get sick first. First you drink the potion, then you puke–into a bucket–for quite some time. Once you puke, then you trip. That’s the deal.
You hate puking. So much so that Neil has been impelled to trick you into taking stuff by omitting the detail of vomit. One night, as you clung to a toilet bowl, clinging to your sense of calm, wondering if you should check yourself into a hospital… “Oh yeah, by the way, that’s normal.”
Thanks for the information!
At least with ayahuasca, you know what you’re getting yourself into. Will you do your homework on this experience? Nah… as you’ve learned, the more you think about it, the more difficult it is to accomplish.
On October 29th, you and Neil will fly to Belgium to meet up with Mieke in Ghent, at which point she will escort you to the ceremony, led by Tim–famous Tim, about whom you know nothing except that he made affected many lives at Sli na Bande. You will have a ceremony on one night, joined by 20 or so other people, and then a ceremony on the next, likely with 20 new people.
Two nights in a row of puking. Wonderful.