PURPLE The Grape Ape – Part II

Tito, Martin, Greg and I are departing the warmth and comfort of the coast to travel fifteen hours north to the unpredictable mountains of Ecuador. Our destination, our journey is to find the lost sacred valley located between two colossal volcanoes. We are happy. Just as quickly as I am consumed with a warm sensation fueled by anticipation, I am cooled by a haunting chill. I have seen this van before. I have met the two drivers we have hired. Four days ago, I woke up in a bungalow. A bungalow in a valley located between two volcanoes; a bungalow and a valley I have never been to...

Two days prior, Sonia, Tito, Martin, Kersh and I embark on the sacred ceremony. For the first time, Tito has decided to hold the Happiness ceremony in the embrace of his new dojo. This is the perfect space. The beautiful dojo was just completely rebuilt only a couple of weeks ago. A few weeks before that there was an electrical fire caused by the earthquake that temporarily took the life of the dojo. The energy inside is amazing. There is a circular alter in the middle of the floor comprised of crystals and other earthly elements. The five of us sit around the alter. We have all lit our candles with our individual intentions in mind. We float our candles in a small pond of water in the center of the alter. We raise our glasses of magic mushrooms blended with a dash of holy rum. We cheers to happiness for all of us and for everyone.

The Psilocbin does not take me long to feel her effects. Physically, the attributes of the magic mushrooms are not always the most pleasant nor comfortable for me at the beginning of my journey. Within minutes I can feel the temperature of my skin getting warm, and then cold. I ponder if I am beating my own heartbeat correctly. I hope that I am; as I am aware that a proper beating heart is vital and essential to having a life force. Am I remembering to breath? Breath is also quite important. I lie back and close my eyes. My concentration is on my breath. I take long deep breaths, in and out. I repeat. I think to myself, “I have not taken any mushrooms. I am fine.” My mind had convinced myself that I had not. Not only had I not taken any mushrooms, I was not in the ceremony, the dojo, or even in Ecuador. I was back in the town I grew up in, Strongsville, Ohio. I was not alone. I was with two of my childhood friends, Casey R*ic and Brad El*is. We are in the Lawson’s convenient store playing the arcade game, Donkey Kong. Lawson’s has not existed in a couple of decades now. Back in the 80’s there was a movement in my neighborhood, Westwood Estates, to boycott Lawson’s to run them out of business and out of our prestigious neighborhood. Ironically, there was nothing ‘prestigious’ about Westwood Estates other than the name itself. Strongsville is an affluent city. Most of it. The people outside of Westwood Estates often referred to us as, “the other side of the tracks.” Lawson’s started selling playboy magazine in their stores. The adults in my neighborhood might as well have been standing outside Lawson’s doors with tiki torches and pitch forks, in protest. Even the local paper, The Sun Star, referred to Lawson’s “perverted” efforts as “blasphemy” to our community. I could not have been older than eleven or twelve; still, I saw the hypocrisy in all of it. This will not stand! I will continue to support local business! I was too young to buy booze, cigarettes or even the playboy magazines. Instead, I spent my allowance at Lawson’s on skittles and arcade games. I was determined to forge myself though the metaphorical picket-lines and support Lawson’s! I built an army. I recruited my two best friends, Casey and Brad. The three of us were going to start a revolution! We are now part of the counter-culture we have always aspired to be. The three of us, standing proud, filling our adolescent voids with sugar and quasi violent video games. We are making a difference. We are the voice of change. The monkey in the game was not the traditional angry gorilla; rather he was a friendly ape. This is not the first time I have seen this ape. He is familiar. I am comfortable in his presences. I feel great. I am not a conformist. I am not a member of an angry mob. Or a cog in a misguided machine. My friends and I are not afraid. We are standing together, and alone for something we believe in. My heartbeat feels perfectly in-sync; my breath, perfectly rhythmic. I have never felt healthier.

I sit up and open my eyes. I never left the dojo. Tito, Martin, and Kersh are sitting around the alter, each with a subtle smile. Sonia is lying down, also smiling. The walls of the dojo are now non-existent. I watch the foliage wrap around and grow as quickly as the beanstalk grew for Jack. The jungle is now in the dojo accompanying us. The vines are quietly in-twinning themselves around me; through me. We are one with nature. Tito looks at me and says, “he is here, isn’t he?” I lean my head back and look up. The ape that I was manipulating in the Donkey Kong game is now hanging from the bamboo rafters above Tito’s head. I smile and shake my head. Tito asks me what color he is? “Purple.” I tell him, the monkey is purple. Monkey has been present in nearly every ceremony I have participated in. I am not sure what monkey is or what his purpose represents. I know he is not interested in me; only Tito. I am not sure if “spirit animal” is the correct assessment; but he feels like a guardian or protector. Tito has never seen monkey; but he feels his presence. The new ceiling of the dojo is a corrugated metal. That ceiling material exists only in one reality. Here and now, the ceiling is a thin cloth. Monkey takes his index finger and touches the cloth ceiling. I see a glowing bright light of fire around his finger as he touches the cloth. The ceiling slowly dissolves. It looked similar to a thin paper, like a napkin, that would slowly burn away, from the inside out, once the hot cherry of a cigarette is introduced. The ceiling is gone. I stare into the sky. I watch as all the stars, planets, and solar systems align in a perfect harmony.

Monkey looks at me and puts his finger over his mouth, as if to say “shhhh” to me. What is monkey up to? Monkey want’s to be hidden; he puts on a disguise. I feel like monkey has a decent sense of humor; out of all the costumes he could have chosen, he dresses up like himself. A decent sense of humor or a lack of creativity. It was not an impressive outfit. His costume was merely a paper plate with his own face drawn on it with crayons. He glued a Popsicle stick to the base as a handle. The drawing looked like the art of a 5 year old child; a five year old, somewhere on the ‘spectrum.’ But still, monkey was so proud of his creation. I do not want to discourage art in any of its forms. I smile with pride, and give monkey a thumbs-up approval. Monkey does not care. He is in no way seeking my approval.

I stare at Tito. His eyes are quiet and closed; peaceful. A small growth on his forehead begins to birth. Tito, now looks very similar to Victor Maitland from the original Beverly Hills Cop movie. The protrusion on his head is growing. The skin on the new growth unravels, mimicking the appearance of foil being quickly unraveled, exposing a giant bright blue third eye. The pupil was a narrow slit with an alluring almond color, accompanied by two sets of eye lids. This brand new eye is quite animated. Monkey and third eye take notice of one another. This makes monkey euphoric! Tito’s third eye is starring right at monkey. Monkey now feels vindicated. He no longer needs to hide behind his monkey mask. He throws his paper plate face to the floor. Monkey begins to ‘showboat’ for Tito. He is doing ‘bamboo gymnastics,’ spinning around the roof structure to the walls and then back to the roof again. Tito’s facial expression does not waver. He appears to be in a deep state of meditation. But his third eye is following monkey’s every move. I look at Tito, all the expression and happiness can be seen in that one eye. Monkey’s beautiful performance goes on for hours.

I lie back down and close my eyes again. When I open them, I notice the dojo is getting brighter. The sun is rising. Tito, Martin and Kersh are all still sitting in their original spots around the alter. Sonia, still lying on her side on the floor. Myself, also lying on the floor, I see monkey reconstructing the dojo. He builds walls. He creates a new ceiling. He shape-shits the dojo. It is no longer a rectangle. It is now circular. He stretches the flat ceiling and morphs it into a dome. The dome is comprised of thin bamboo strips. There is orange construction pieces of paper that decorate the top interior of the dome. I am lying in a bed now. I sit up and see Tito and Martin sleeping in there respective beds. We are in a bungalow. It is cold. We are in the mountings.

The door to the bungalow slowly opens, letting the outside sunlight enter. I stand up and stretch my tiered yet rested limbs. I walk towards the light. All I can see is white. My eyes slowly adjust to the morning light. Off in the distance the once blurred volcanoes are making their way into focus. Beautiful. The grass is greener than the greenest lime green, mint green, or emerald green. I feel Tito, Greg, and Martin all standing behind me smiling with joy.

The four of us spend four days and nights together in the mountains, exploring and discovering ancient Inca temples. On the fourth night, I am awoken by an overwhelming cold chill. My body is shivering, and my skin covered with goose bumps. The bungalow that once shielded me from the elements is not present. I am lying in my bed covered with six heavy wool blankets. Tito, Greg, and Martin are all missing, but I am not alone. There are twelve deep silver eyes surrounding me, starring at me. Each pair of eyes belonging to a beautiful wolf. I can see their cold breath and sharp teeth. I am not afraid. They want me to follow them. I stand up and shed my six wool blankets. I am no longer cold. I follow them through the mountains and into the jungle. I close my eyes as I walk into the darkness.

I can smell incense and Palo Santo wood burning. I open my eyes. Tito is sitting across from me, Martin and Kersh sitting next to me. And Sonia is lying down on the other side of me. We are all in the dojo. The wolves lead me home. Tito looks at me and says, “we should name monkey, ‘purple.’” I nod. “perfect.” Kersh speaks for the first time, without missing a beat and with all his wit, “The Grape Ape.” I ask Tito what day it is. “it’s still Tuesday. We have been here for four hours.” Unbelievable. What an amazing and beautiful journey.

“Time has no meaning, space and place have no meaning, on this journey. All times can be inhabited, all places visited. In a single day the mind can make a millpond of the oceans. Some people who never crossed the land they were born on have traveled all over the world. The journey is not linear, it is always back and fourth, denying the calendar, the wrinkles and lines of the body. The self is not contained in any moment or any place, but only in the intersection of moment and place that the self might, for a moment, be seen vanishing through a door, which disappears at once.” ~Jeanette Winterson