Through the looking glass

I wake up to the fragrance of incense, baked cookies and ganja drifting through my bedroom window ~ I throw on some overalls, splash water on my face, pop a couple chewable vitamin C and go investigate ~ my neighbor is playing a wooden flute while a member of his band gently strums a guitar. I'm reminded of meditation time at the Ashram ~ with a twist ~ without words I sit and listen ~ feeling hypnotized ~ Anahstasia passes me a bowl ~ I breathe in deeply and close my eyes ~ a note is struck on a cymbal and the music moves in another direction ~ I follow ~ letting go of my plans for the day ~ I sit and watch them fade away ~ the cymbal rings again and the music moves in a different direction ~ then suddenly ~ flash ~ We’re walking through the redwood trees on cold springs trail ~ I feel like I passed through the looking-glass ~ and popped out here ~ good thing I slipped on a pair of Merrells this morning ~ I try to mention this but my lips are numb and my tongue is heavy ~ I hear their children laughing from the tree limbs above ~ and I’m reminded of the elves of Lothlorien ~ the stewards of the forest appear ahead ~ smiling and welcoming us to join them in a drum circle ~ I bow in greeting and find a place to sit ~ hoping this isn’t a test or something because I don’t know anything ~ and there wasn't time to study.