I’ve been working the Byron buses for a while now while the local adhd loon, the laidback sarge, and the doggieboy try and clean up my most favourite little village in the world. Last time I looked there was a football team of apprentice dealers hanging out thriving on the adrenaline of real life ‘cops and robbers’, so the war clearly aint over yet.
I had to go back on the buses because the alcohol was killing me on the streets. To blend in now I was drinking so much I couldn’t stay in role. Anyway the buses are an old unda favourite. Scoring with the Swedish girls the dealers never even notice me.
Less than a week ago I was hanging out with some French backpackers and we caught the Nimbin bus for the day trip and I never gave it a second thought when a pretty girl handed out cookies soon after we drove off. Someone started talking about mushrooms and I still didn’t twig. Then the birthing waves started rolling over me and when we stepped out of the bus at the waterfall the jungle was alive. Everthing was alive.
No one spoke. The French are so beautiful. Everything was so beautiful.
We pulled up in Nimbin with the Simpsons clouds hovering over the hills on a perfect day. Was the whole village on goldtops? I really thought so for a while as the colourful friendly goodvibes filled the air in the land of stressfree. Love was in the air. It was unmistakable, yet impossible to pin. I forgot who I was and what I was supposed to be doing. Besides, who needs weed now?
Chilling on the street with the young travellers from across the globe, this was paradise, as good as it gets. And I saw the Point. Enjoyment. Joy. Simple joy. If you don’t feel good you can’t enjoy and if you can’t enjoy there is no point! And here was a little radical tribe just trying to feel good and they had discovered some of the magic plants in nature to help make it happen. As humans have forever.
It all seemed so simple, so clear, for a moment. The Truth. The Truth is Joy. But no sooner did I see it than it started rippling apart. Someone called taxi and it was as if a boulder was caste into the millpond.
Suddenly I remembered who I was and the times I’ve called taxi just to see who was carrying weed. The cops have forever enjoyed false alarms. All legal for us of course! “The cops are on the way”. Then back to the bar for another beer, job done.
Then I saw them for real. Boots and belts, guns, uniforms, cutting a swathe through the footpath. Creatures from another planet, here to spoil the fun. Killjoys.
The Sacred Goldies had done their job. It was a life changing moment. The front uniform caught my eye, as we do. He knew instantly something was wrong. Confusion glazed him even more but the training stood tall as he walked straight past, and I realized I’d crossed over. I can’t do unda anymore. Time to follow the words and path the Dalai has been nudging me towards. Be true to myself and no longer betray the spirit of the sacred mind expanding plants the killjoys are out to destroy. If only they undastood.
No more talking to the Copshrink about my blurring realities and loyalties. Time to take the massive compo package from the Undabelly Account which should be enough to buy half of Cullen Street, as well as the farm to grow my own.