Crazy Charlie (part four)

Charlie learns that the people here live on the river year-around and have established a self-governing community. They have a council and a constitution. The springs are located on Indian Holy Land ..so the first article says to treat the land with respect. The second says respect the sovereignty of others ..don’t steal ..contribute in some way and you are welcome to stay. “As you can see ..” says one of the members “..not much is hidden ..we learn to live without ‘blind spots’ ..all sentient beings are welcome ..there are places for tents downstream; we don’t use them but the campers do ..we help them find a proper site ..warn them about snakes ..tell them where they can find good water ..and in return; we don’t hesitate to ask them for whatever they can afford to offer in the way of food and medicine. Over there is the ‘Canyon of Refuge’ where people practice solitude ..or where someone can hide for years if necessary.” Charlie burns his clothes .. pours olive oil over his body ..and lies in the hot springs ..sometimes until three in the morning ..watching stars as big as baseballs ..and listening to people discuss the constellations. He works on the trash brigade ..contributes money during supply runs ..eats rice and lentils .. practices Tai Chi in the river ..enjoys listening to a guy who can carry on several conversations ..about several subjects ..on many levels ..all at once. He processes information about living in the wild .. revises all his notions of beauty .. and falls in love over and over again. After a few months, he looks like a dark version of Nick Nolte with sun bleached hair. One day he helps a group of teenagers find a cool place to camp ..then asks them if they have any medications they can spare. They hand him a little orange pill ..Charlie balances it on his forefinger while they warn him not to take it all at once ..it’s a three-way dose. When they’re finished, Charlie looks at them kindly ..then pops it into his mouth all at once saying: “Thanks, but don’t worry ..it won’t kill me.” They each take a step backwards. Later that day, they watch him walking back and forth in the river with a bandana on his head ..eyes closed ..chanting a mantra ..and banging on a canteen like it was a tambourine.

• In memory of Bradley James McCall (1950 to 1970)
  
• In gratitude to the inhabitants and guests of Deep Creek
  ..your stewardship of the land is stellar.