Clocks are a funny thing, especially a cuckoo clock, but it’s still just a clock and still just serving the institute of time. It doesn’t matter if it’s hands blindly following a tick-tock rhythm or blood red digits panic shocking us into some made up prison. It’s a turf war and tree rings win.
Ayahuasca is a plant infusion used to aid terminally ill cancer patients and people suffering from depression. It’s the same with hallucinogenic mushrooms and LSD. The governments in Europe and North America are once again funding research.
It’s been a long war of demonization; a propaganda war painting the organic medium as a narcotic rather than a plant. Billions and billions of dollars to fight a drug war; to outlaw plants people have been ingesting for thousands of years. Damn shame.The brews from plant infusions are designed to tap us further into reality rather than escape from it.
The world of plants is filled with secrets. The human border patrol adds layers of complication to access their remedy, but plants, mushrooms, bark, and shaman brews are not endangered species. They’re not going anywhere. They wait with doors still open.
I sit here every night behind a screen, far away, lost in batting average numbers, the announcer’s story or the contemplation of pitching mechanics. I like the human mind, but there are moments; not ayahuasca moments, not yet anyway, but moments nonetheless when before and after melt away.
I’m standing on stiff dirt suddenly loosening as I dig in to bat. The initial freak out of being transported somewhere else is the same to be or not to be. I’m staring down the pitcher 60 feet six inches away and there’s murder in his eyes or facial hair, but I’ve decided this is it and here comes the pitch.
I can relax and float and let it happen. This isn’t my flesh or bones anyway. It’s part of something bigger and so is the bat and ball and wood and leather and tree and cow and grass and sky.
I roll my wrists over and hit the top half of the ball. I’ve waited the necessary half second to meet the outside pitch half way. My hips and hands sync. The ball squirts on a line over the the shortstops head. I’m racing to first and watching the ball the entire time. It’s skipping off the grass. I musta hit that thing real well; right on the sweet spot of my 32 inch aluminum worth.
I am a deer darting towards second when that throw comes in from left field real fast and 90 feet is further than I thought.I leap head first with arms extended and it hurts when I hit earth but I’m on this side now and not behind a screen. Is that the other dimension creeping back in?.
I feel the cold leather hit my hand. I’m out and back on the sofa chair outside the tv and time ticks again;numbers come crunching back into my mind. It feels dry and detached like staring at plants or inside an aquarium.
The shaman sits to my right. He laughs and says, “We can talk to it and not about it.”
Meanwhile, back in game 66, the Brewers are playing the Mets and in the third inning, the Met’s defense plays it straight, traditional aka no shift whatsoever. The Brewer’s Jonathan Lucroy is at the plate, man on third and one out.
Defensive shifts are taking away base hits after base hits. Advanced scouting reports have turned batters into predictable outs.
Jonathan Lucroy is not one of them. There was no shift Wednesday night because Met’s manager Terry Collins holds the Lucroy spray chart in his hand and he knows Lucroy hits the ball everywhere. You can’t cheat him. He reacts to where the pitch is thrown.
If the pitcher had perfect control, you could shift the defense accordingly, but painting the corners of a target is the exception not the norm. Lucroy hits a sharp ground ball to Tejada who makes a good play, but the run scores. Three more hits for Lucroy to raise his average to .341.
The Brewers scored three runs and won 3-1, but so many wasted opportunities; 11 hits and 10 left on base. The failure to hit with runners in scoring position forgotten because Wily Peralta pitched so good; cruising into the 7th inning after allowing only four hits and a walk on the night.
The Brewers are 39-27