3 Skye Diamond – Hippies, Yippies and other Misfits
The Hospital was confusing. She kept getting lost, no matter how many times she’d been there, it all looked the same. The cold grey floor, sea of Green clad staff. As she was making her way to the room she ran into her brother in the hall. At 6 and a half feet tall, he was hard to miss. His hair was wild as usual, this time he had a beard. He was stoned.
He smiled broadly and magnanimously opening his arms, “Hi Sis!” “Hey” she hugged him back. “I think it’s this way.”
When they entered the room, their mom, Lucy was talking to one of the Doctors. She was intently quizzing her about all the details of the medication, the course of treatment and what to expect.
The Oncologist was a tall, statuesque blonde. She looked like she belonged on the Swedish ski team. “So, then the second round begins, you’ll need to be prepared for the mouth sores.” She looked over at the siblings.
“Oh, Dr. Linden, these are my children, Cosmo and Skye.” Dr Linden shook their hands and met each of their gaze evenly and earnestly. Skye wondered if she noticed that Cosmo was stoned. She knew that even if her Mom noticed she wouldn’t say anything.
Lucy was scrolling through her little electronic organizer, inputting dates and schedules.
“…You’ll be admitted to the East Wing for the duration of your treatments…”
She knew her mother was dying. But Lucy insisted she was getting better, and Skye wasn’t about to argue with her about it. She kept her mouth closed, even though it had been clear to her that Mom had decided to die over a year ago when she didn’t have the aggressive treatment that the Doctors suggested. OK, fine thought Skye, then at least try something alternative, like Acupuncture, herbal treatments, something. Instead it was affirmations all over the walls about how she was getting better. This tore Skye up. One one hand she agreed with all the fluffy positive thinking stuff, but she knew a gloss job when she saw one. This was a surface show of force, not the deep inner kind. Not the kind that made Skye wake up in the middle of the night sweating and twisted up in her bedsheets. But there was no telling Mom that.
“…and that’s when your father built the camper we all lived in…” Skye was drawn sharply back into the room. “That was after your father and I met at Timothy Leary’s ranch in Woodstock.” She had heard this story before, her mind was carried on Eagle’s wings back to a place and time before she was born.
There are tents everywhere. Hand decorated fabrics, tyedyes, stings of beads hanging loosely here and there. The whole atmosphere is relaxed. One long-haired girl stands and paints the face of another long-haired blonde girl with flowers and abstract designs. She is topless, her whole chest is painted in the pattern and color of peacock feathers. One white feather floats down from the sky and lands on her shoulder. The other girl laughs and picks it up, putting it behind her ear. “Far out! Feather! That’s what I’m going to call you from now on.” A third girl sits beside them, she is wearing an A-line mini skirt, go-go boots and barrettes in her hair which is parted straight down the middle and curled and sprayed into a perfect flip. A sharp contrast to the hippies around her. “What do you think of that Amanda?” Feather asks her. “Oh, well, it’s, um, very striking.” she says in an English accent.
The sun starts sliding down, spreading it’s red-orange glory across the sky. A murmur starts from the house, as a soft-faced man who gestures eagerly whispers from one person to another. The whisper gets louder and makes it’s way to where the girls are. “Tim is here!” “Leary’s back” “He’s got Sunshine.” Just as soon as the murmur passes one group, they get up and move towards the large house. Once the word reaches the three girls, Feather and her painter jump up and follow. Amanda straggles behind, “What’s going on?” The other two laugh.
As they get up to the back deck of the house they see a group huddled around one man, it is Timothy Leary. Everyone listens intently to every word he says:
“We must take the evolution of our own consciousness into our own hands! This is a one-way ticket into the skies and beyond, your rocket ship of personal evolution, a stairway straight to enlightenment. It is every American’s constitutional right – no, their DUTY to consciously evolve themselves, to unlock the potential hiding inside each and every one of our brains.” He taps the foreheads of several of those closest to him.
“For too long, society has cruelly relegated the role of ecstasy, the role of the shaman to the dark shameful corners of society. Let’s return it to it’s natural state, to OUR natural state. The state of conscious, the ecstatic state of being that opens us to exceed our limitations, be become MORE than our hypnotic programming. Overthrow the rules! Release your wild, passionate experience of pure consciousness!”
The crowd surrounding him erupts with cheers, “Yeah!” “Right on, man!” “That’s what I’m talking about!”
Leary starts distributing little hits of acid around the crowd. He speaks animatedly to a straggly man with wild eyes to his left, who’s hair falls in his face as he nods and quickly runs off.
People start dancing and laughing, tracing trails through the air all around the three girls.
Amanda asks “What exactly IS this place? What’s going on here?”
Feather is dancing and twirling in a slow rhythmic manner.
The painter is laughing and talking with a blond man who is laying on an oversized pillow.
The straggly man that Leary was speaking to is standing next to her. “Did you take a wrong turn back there? The Catholic school is on the other side of the lake.”
Amanda is taken aback. “Hello? What’re you talking about?”
“This just doesn’t seem like your scene…”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Do you want to take the wildest ride you’ve ever been on?”
“What do you mean?”
He laughs and grabs her by the hand, “C’mon school girl. It’s time to blow your mind.”
“Excuse me, we haven’t even been properly introduced.”
He puts out his hand, “Slim.”
She shakes, it, “Well, that’s better. I’m called Amanda.” Slim and two of his friends start laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing English invasion, come on.”
Timothy Leary joins them.
“Are YOU ready to consciously evolve? Do you want to break the filters that have forced a version of reality on you that you never subscribed to?”
“I don’t know” She answers.
“What if you could be anyone you wanted to be? What if you could go anywhere in the Universe with your mental passport, get stamped at every star, tour the galaxy and beyond? What if you’re already there, and just waiting for this pretty little english girl to catch up?”
“I don’t understand. What do I have to do?”
“It’s all very simple.” He produces a small tab of acid. “This is your ticket to ride on the magic bus. Are you ready?”
Slim grins at her.
A long haired guy with glasses has been watching them, amused “That’s what Slim is here for. He’s an experienced guide, he’ll make sure everything is just fine.”
Slim is still grinning at her.
He holds out a tab of acid on his index finger. “Are you ready to experience a whole new reality?” She nods. “Then put out your tongue.” She hesitates a moment, then does. He drops the acid on it and stares at her intently.
“What now,” she asks. “Wait.” he says.
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