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FLYING
TO BALTIMORE
We had waited for months for
this project to materialize. Tom had been invited to participate
in the project sometime in early March, and here it was the
first week of June. Our air and room reservations were made, but
were subject to cancellation due to the fact that the revised
SOW had yet to be signed. The week before we left was one filled
with anticipation. Getting ready was easy. Since Tom and I live
alone, with no children or pets, the house is just about always
clean, so there was very little to do in that area. The evening
before our scheduled departure, I finished what laundry we had,
and reluctantly packed the suitcases. I still didn't believe
that we would be going. Amazingly, we both had a good nights
sleep.
Up at 5am Friday morning, we
sat together in the dining room and had our coffee. Tom read the
newspaper, and I watched the news on tv. Tom was already
dressed, as usual. I readied myself, dressing, doing my hair,
putting on my makeup. I loaded the dishwasher, did some last
minute odds and ends, and we waited for a phone call or e-mail
from the East coast. Tom checked his e-mail, and all was still a
tentative go ahead. So we left for the airport knowing that
there was a possibility that our flight reservations might be
pulled at the last moment. Our landlord, Lou, drove us to the
airport. I sat in the back seat, quiet in my thoughts, while Tom
and Lou made small talk.
We arrived at the Portland
airport about two hours before departure. Tom and I decided to
have a smoke before checking our luggage. We wanted to hear from
Paul in Connecticut. We wanted to make certain that the trip was
a go ahead. We finished our cigarettes, went inside, and sat
across from the check-in area, still waiting patiently for the
phone call. Finally the call came, and the trip began.
We snaked our way through the
security check point, our carry-on's and ourselves x-rayed. I
guess the guards were not satisfied with the results for me, so
they asked me to submit to a personal search. Fun!!! The guard
who was searching me kept commenting on my jewelry. I told her
if she touched it enough, maybe she would receive a blessing.
Who knows, maybe she did. (By the way, I was searched the same
way on three of the four flights on this particular trip. And,
when we returned home, I found one of our suitcases had been
searched! Talk about feeling raped!)
We had about 45 minutes before
the flight, so we bought a magazine and some coffee, and settled
down to wait.
To me, flying has always been
a rather surreal experience. I feel as if I am simply seated in
a room, which suddenly becomes filled with strange and loud
noises, never actually moves, but delivers one to a completely
different place in time.
Our flight to Atlanta was
uneventful. We were served sack lunches (complete with 8oz of
bottled water!), which is the current vogue for airline meals
these days when you have economy reservations. Tom and I sat
next to each other. We read, shared food, cuddled, and tried to
nap. They were showing a movie, which I watched intermittently
without benefit of earphones. We flew through some wonderful
thunderheads, and the clouds took on the appearance of massive
waterfalls, cascading in a beautiful ethereal dance 33,000 feet
to earth.
We landed in Atlanta, heading
immediately to our gate since we had only about a half hour
between flights. On the way, we found to our amazement a much
needed "smoking room". Tom and I lit up, inhaling
deeply. It had been over six hours since our last cigarettes.
Most of the people sat smoking in furtive silence, faces frozen,
almost like they were caught in some weirdly obscene act. Some were
talking on cells phones, some trying to read magazines or
newspapers. A woman came into the room and I knew she was going
to ask me for a light. I lit her cigarette. She said, "We
all look like we are hiding". I told her, "No, we all
are resolute in our desire". She thought that was a really
good observation, and proceeded to enjoy her own.
Finished with our cigarettes,
I went in search of a restroom, while Tom went to our gate to
see if we could possibly be seated together. "No". The
flight was completely booked, so we would have to seat
separately, four rows between us. We boarded our flight, and I
waited in my very scrunched center seat for the people I would
be immediately be sharing the journey with, hoping that one of
them would be willing to switch seats with Tom.
A young African American woman
stopped in the narrow aisle. She was juggling her luggage and a
container of ice cream. I offered to hold her ice cream, and she
handed it to me. She stowed her luggage, and sat in the aisle
seat. We made small talk, then I asked if she would consider
exchanging seats with my husband. She asked where he was seated,
and when I told her, she said she couldn't possibly consider
sitting in a center seat. "Oh well," I thought. It was
going to be a boring flight, and even though it's a hop, skip
and jump from Atlanta to Baltimore, I felt it was going to be a
long one as well. I didn't have Tom, I had nothing to read, and
I certainly didn't have anyone to talk with.
Soon, another African American
woman stopped at our row. She would be sitting in the window
seat. I didn't bother asking her if she would exchange seats
with Tom. This woman was about my age, very cheerful and
talkative. She was returning from a week long seminar on
mortgages. She told me that she worked for one of the larger
banks in Baltimore, and this was one of many recent seminars she
had attended since the beginning of the year. They were all
short, no more than two weeks at a time, but she missed her
family, and wished that her husband had been able to travel with
her. We chatted for a while, touching lightly on politics,
religion, and family, then she settled back into her seat and
immediately fell asleep.
The young woman to my right
was silent. She had been listening to us talk but didn't bother
to join in the conversation. She held in her hands a bible.
Actually, she more gripped it than held it. When we left the
ground, she shut her eyes tightly, and held her breath. I wanted
to touch her and tell her everything was going to be fine. I
didn't. I felt that she didn't want her terror intruded upon.
I sat silently, pondering on
the young woman's apparent lack of faith in her god and her
uncertainty of her continuance in eternity. She was obviously a
Christian, as was the older woman seated next to the window. Yet
the young woman spent the entire flight engulfed in fear. I
could feel the energy of fear. Again, I wanted to touch her, but
refrained.
We encountered some wonderful
turbulence during most of our flight, the thunderheads I had
seen earlier being directly in our flight path. I enjoyed the
bouncing around. Remember, flying to me is more surreal than
anything else. But the young woman next to me was not happy, and
held her bible in trembling hands, trying to concentrate on the
words printed on the pages. When she wasn't trying to read, she
closed her eyes, and I suppose that she must have been praying.
I know she felt that we were going to crash. And even though she
held the book that housed the foundation of her belief in her
hands, she was still terrified. Her rock of ages was failing
her.
What really struck me was her
lack of faith. When I was a practicing Christian, I had complete
faith in what I had been taught, and knew that my eternal
existence was assured. I didn't worry about Death. I knew that
whatever heaven was, I would eventually end up
"there". And I've had many close calls with Death. And
even being who I am today, I have the same assurance of eternal
existence. How sad it was, I thought, that this young person
should be caught so deeply in the grip of fear. And how hopeless
it is to commit ones life to a deity which one cannot have
complete and unmitigated faith in. I will always remember her.
We landed without incident at
around10pm. Tom and I collected our luggage, rented a car, and
made our way to the hotel. We didn't actually check in until
well after midnight, having gotten turned around significantly
on the round-about lanes of Columbia, Maryland. We phoned the
clerk from our cell phone and asked for directions. We told him
where we were, and he replied, "I know where you are.
You're fucking lost!!!". Great. With minimal directions,
Tom and I found our way to the hotel. The key to our room was in
a lock-box in a small foyer. After wrestling with the lock-box
for many minutes, Tom finally got our key out and unlocked the
door to the lobby of the hotel. In our room, we got ready for
bed, and fell asleep almost as soon as our heads hit the
pillows.
Saturday morning, and it was
time to unpack. I hung all of the clothing I had hangers for,
folded the rest and placed it in the drawers. I set out our
toiletries in the bathroom. We were both a bit burned out, but
as always, in good humor. We have literally never known a time
when we weren't. At least not yet.
We decided to go grocery
shopping. Our room was mediocre as rooms go. Amenities were
obviously lacking. But, this is where I wanted to stay, the plus
being the kitchenette. We wanted to be able to have some home
cooked meals. We asked at the front desk for directions to the
nearest grocery store. The clerk tried to be helpful, but was
not from the area. Oh well, guess we'd just drive around until
we found one. And drive around we did. Around and around, up one
street and down another, always ending up where we started. It
didn't take us long to get the lay of the land though,
especially after looking at the area via online maps. We bought
our groceries and returned to the hotel.
We visited the Columbia Mall
in the afternoon, and had lunch at a chicken stand. It was tasty
enough. Being so tired made us less demanding. The evening was
spent relaxing in the hotel room.
On Sunday, we drove to
Baltimore to find the place where Tom would be working. We
returned to the hotel for a bit, then, we drove to Washington
DC. We didn't stop to sightsee, as we couldn't find a parking
spot close enough to walk to the national monuments. We decided
that we would try for a visit at a future date.
Monday was spent just hanging
around the hotel room waiting for the rest of Tom's group to
arrive. We needed the time to re-energize ourselves, with the
time change and the long flights. We cuddled and took naps. In
the evening, we joined the others (two members had arrived) for
dinner at a local steakhouse, which as far as I'm concerned, was
a waste of time. The food just wasn't that great. The company
was good, though.
Tuesday Tom spent in
Baltimore, while I kept busy at the hotel. I did some art, wrote
a bit, and took some photos of the local ducks. While sitting in
the room, I felt something moving slowly up my neck. I brushed
at it, and a good sized tick fell onto the carpet. Yuck!!! The
youngest and fourth member of the team that Tom was working with
arrived in the afternoon. We all drove to Baltimore for dinner
at James Joyce Irish Pub. The food was wonderful, and the
company was good. We walked the harbor, visited The Hard Rock
Cafe and Borders Book Store, and then headed back to the hotel.
Wednesday was pretty much a
repeat of Tuesday, except that Tom and his group spent the
evening in Baltimore. I was of course disappointed that they
left me at the hotel. Tom arrived back at the hotel fairly late.
We watched some television, talked about the day, and went to
sleep.
Thursday was a good day. Tom
finished work fairly early, and we joined the others for dinner
at a local restaurant. Italian Food!!!! I knew better, but
ordered the Penne Pasta with Marinara Sauce anyway, with full
knowledge that my digestive track would be paying for it that
night and the next day. Paul, one of Tom's co-workers, came to
our room after dinner to transfer files which took until after
midnight.
Friday, and all of Tom's
co-workers flew home. They would return on Sunday. We had most
of the weekend to ourselves. Tom was back at the hotel shortly
after 2pm, we went out for dinner, and spent the rest of the
evening talking and watching t.v.
We spent Saturday sightseeing
in Baltimore. We visited the Lexington Market. It is the oldest
indoor market in the United States, and was established in 1792.
And is it huge! The Market is in a neighborhood that is
predominantly African-American, and we were, from what I saw,
the only Caucasians visiting that day!!! There was a sprinkling
of Asians, but these were mostly vendors and janitors.
Generally, when Tom and I are in public, I am not too clingy.
This day, however, I held tightly to his arm. I was overwhelmed
by the intense energy I felt directed toward us by the
surrounding crowd. We walked past the stalls which were
overflowing with food of every variety one could imagine. Raw
meats and seafood, fruits and vegetables, breads and more.
There were also prepared foods, including a food eaten
customarily only by African-Americans, which they call
"Chitterlings". This is deep fried cow intestines. I
hadn't seen this type of food since moving away from Arizona. I have
never tasted it, and doubt I ever will. It has a peculiar odor
which is less than appealing.
We decided to leave after only
a few minutes. It was an interesting place to visit, but had
obviously lost it's old world/new world charm many years ago.
Tom and I had planned to visit
the cemetery where the writer Edgar Allan Poe is buried. We
looked at our map, and discovered that we were only a few blocks
away, so off we walked in search of Westminster Church. We found
both his original burial spot, and the place where he was
finally buried by his wife, who had his remains exhumed and
moved. We had an interesting visit there. It is a very old
cemetery, lot's of old trees, damp and mossy, somehow smelling
ancient and mildewy. It dates back to the late 1700's. There
were a few other visitors there. We took several photos
for our Baltimore photo album. When we finished, we returned to
the car. I wanted to see the house in which Poe had lived when
he was in Baltimore. We checked the map, and saw that it was in
the same area that we already were. We got in the car and drove
to where the map indicated. We drove around and around the
blocks, until finally we gave up. The neighborhood, as mentioned
before, is predominantly African-American, and we could sense
once again the strange energy directed toward us from the
windows and doorways.
We drove back towards the
center of Baltimore, when we saw a sign that said "Poe
House" with an arrow pointing back to where we had been.
So, we drove back, determined to see the house. After a few
turns, still following the signs, we found the house. We didn't
get out of the car, nor did we take any photos. At least we got
to see it.
After eating an early dinner
at Famous Dave's Barbecue, (it was actually pretty good) we
returned to the hotel, and spent the evening there.
Sunday morning, we took a
drive to Chesapeake Bay. We visited Down Park, which is a lovely
place, well tended, with many walking paths both into the forest
and by the bay. We saw some wild life, a few very strange fungi,
and a pair of swans swimming in the bay. We spent about an hour
there, took some photos, then returned to the hotel.
Paul returned on Sunday
afternoon. We decided to join him in Baltimore for the
afternoon. We would be picking Larry up at the airport around
6pm, so we had a few hours to while away. We walked the harbor.
Tom and I had wanted to visit the World Trade Center, and take
some photos from the 27th floor observation deck, so we headed
there.
It was breathtaking!!! The
exhilaration of being so far up, the sensation of the building
swaying almost imperceptibly back and forth! And the view. We
had a five sided view of Baltimore. It was spectacular. Tom took
many photos, which turned out just wonderfully.
We picked Larry up at the
airport, and returned to Baltimore for dinner, and more walking.
We ate at a burger joint. (The food tasted great, but ended up
making Tom and myself ill. Tom had nightmares and I felt sick.
Oh well.) We walked the harbor, checked out the huge schooner,
The Constellation, which I think was in one of the battles in
Baltimore Bay in the 1700's. There was entertainment. A Hispanic
three piece band, complete with panpipes, was playing near The
Constellation. They played a blend of Latin and South American
Indigenous music, which was pleasant to listen to and added to
the generally friendly ambiance of the downtown area. Just
beyond, there was a crowd watching a break dancing competition.
There were five or six young men getting "JIGGY" with
it, really pulling out all of the stops, spinning and jerking to
the music the DJ played on his huge portable stereo. We watched
this for a few minutes, then decided it was time to head back to
the hotel.
It was back to work on Monday
for Tom. I spent the day doing art, writing, the same as all the
rest of the days since we have been here that I have had to
spend alone. Tom and his group stayed in Baltimore for dinner,
and I had my meal of eggs. He came in a bit earlier than the
week before, which was wonderful.
Tuesday was about the same,
except this time they decided to pick me up for dinner. We ate
at a barbecue restaurant. It was a very long wait for the table,
and by the time we were seated, it was well past eight o'clock.
I was silent for most of the dinner, just listening to Tom and
his group exchange shop talk.
Wednesday was again spent in
the same manner. Tom and Paul returned to the hotel in the
evening. They had left the other two in Baltimore. Paul wanted
to go shopping for a pair of slacks and a tie to wear to a
meeting he had with a top manager for the client. Paul has
evidently been having some huge personal issues, and needed
someone to vent to. Tom felt it would be a good idea to
accompany him. I agreed. We went to Columbia Mall, and Paul
shopped. Tom and I used the time to catch up with each other.
With the exception of the weekends, we really hadn't had much
time together. And this is not what we were used to. So, since
we had a bit of time, we made good use of it. While Paul was
busy in the stores, Tom and I sat outside and talked. Time
passed quickly. We had to pick the other two up in Baltimore
around 7:30pm. We returned briefly to the hotel to get the car
that Tom and I had rented. It was a short hop to Baltimore. Tom
phoned the fellows, got directions to where they were, and we
picked them up. We got back to the hotel around 8:30pm. I made
sandwiches and salad for Tom and I, we watched TV and chatted
for awhile, and then made our way to bed.
Thursday, and my day was spent
writing for the most part. I took my daily walk around the hotel
property and found some more interesting fungi. I took several
photos of fungi in this region. I regret not taking photos of
the fungi we saw at Downs Park on Chesapeake Bay. I have always
found fungi and mycology (the study of mushrooms) fascinating.
The mythological imagery of mushrooms is simply delightful.
In medieval Ireland, mushrooms
were thought to be umbrellas for leprechauns; the English
believed mushrooms had to be gathered under a full moon to be
edible; ancient Egyptians considered mushrooms the sons of gods,
sent to earth riding on bolts of lightning.
Here is a bit of Sumerian
mushroom lore:
"The red of the mushroom
cap, as well as the juice, are visualized as blood, and
figuratively related to as fire. The cap is also considered the
female genital organ, as was the cup (like the Holy Grail) from
ancient times. While the mushroom stem is the phallus. The
mushroom is androgynous, in one sense, being one entity yet
having both male and female sexual organs visible. In another
sense it is two separate beings, joined together, in the act of
creation, albeit only the sexual organs are visible. It is also
known as "Star-Fire". This supplemental nourishment
was produced from the lunar essence, or blood (from the womb),
of the goddess. It is also called "the gold of the
gods" and even "the red gold". Some myths tell us
that when the Anunnaki (Sumerian deity) withdrew from Earth,
"like birds taking flight", they took with them the
'Star-fire', or at least the knowledge of what the
'Star-fire" was. The priestly caste which remained were
forced to take the knowledge underground. 'Gold' is a
representation of the mushroom, the color of the cap-skin is
gold (when dried) and also reddish-gold and it must be
put-to-the-fire for the process of detoxing before ingesting it
properly. It is also directly related to the tree of life,
manna, and Greek ambrosia. It was the most secret and powerful
thing known to the Anunnaki, and was not meant for humans, at
least in the eyes of the priesthood. However, it was something
that we evidently needed. In the Egyptian book of the dead, the
pharaoh, who is searching for the ultimate food-of-the-gods,
continuously repeats the statement "what is it?" at
every step of his journey. This question is the very definition
given for the enigmatic 'Manna' in the Jewish records. What is
this 'Star-fire'? That which humanity has been forbidden by the
Anunnaki, who were willing to wreak all manner of deception and
destruction to keep it a secret."
(paraphrased
from James Arthur's website)
There is huge body of
spiritual history and mythology regarding the mushroom, more
than I could possibly include in these pages. I would recommend
that anyone interested start with the link indicated above.
Tom is anxious to return home.
He is missing Portland. The keyboards are there. The computers
are there. His daughters are there. I suppose I miss it a bit. I
do love the freedom at home to be able to have access to the
computer for working on, say for instance, the website, but I
have found that home is where you
hang your heart. And my home is wherever Tom and I might find
ourselves. I do think it will be nice to be home and regroup as
far as future plans are concerned. So, going home will be nice
for both of us.
It's Friday, and Tom will only
work a half a day. He has to take one of the team to the airport
at noon, then we will be able to spend the rest of our time here
together. This is wonderful. I could spend every moment of the
rest of my existence with Tom, and never ever be bored or tired
of him.
EPILOGUE:
We are back in
Portland, and I am glad to be back. Sure, it's a bit warm, but
at least the natives are friendly. And we are home, the home that Tom and
I have made for ourselves. I still believe that home is where
you hang your heart, and this is a good one to hang it! We will surely have many more
journeys together before moving from this reality. And we will
continue to share those journeys with you. We are preparing a
slide show, which should be ready soon, and available on the
website, not our living room!!!
Blessings
All!!!
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