A Nation of Mystics

by Pamela Johnson

  All I want is time alone with him.

  She pictured the yab-yum poster on the wall of his room, the blue and red paisleys covering the bodies of the man and woman.

  Tonight will be like the print—only three-dimensional. Union with Richard and a covering of colorful paisleys from my own eyes.

  Even though it was well after midnight, crowds still walked Haight Street—laughing, dancing, tripping to their own thoughts, the same flow of movement as at noon. Yet there were no neon lights to call people together, no theaters or shops or restaurants, just lights shinning through the windows of houses and from one all-night coffee shop across the street from the park.

  When Richard finally stopped the car, Marcie was amazed to see that he’d found the flat’s driveway. A rush of activity followed, doors opening, everyone falling out of the car. A clamor, and the door to the flat opened. Greta and Merlin immediately disappeared into their room.

  “So what do you think?” Alex cornered Richard. “Should we buy?”

  “Yeah. The acid’s good—but in the morning. I don’t want to do the deal tonight.”

  “We have to,” Alex insisted. “They’ll sell to someone else if we don’t.”

  “They have another buyer?”

  “Ron and Carl for one. I don’t know if there are others.”

  Marcie could see thoughts pass across Richard’s eyes, his mind becoming focused. “Where did you meet these guys?” he asked.

  “Through Carl. He turned me on to them at the Drogstore.”

  “How long has he known them? Has he done business with them before?”

  “I don’t know.” Alex sighed.

  “Did you pick the tabs from the pile? Or did they give them to you?”

  “No, they just handed me a plastic bag.” Alex considered. “Come to think of it, they were a bit …” He searched for a word. “… smug. I guess you’re right. I’d better check this out some more, maybe make sure Ron and Carl know what they’re doing.” He turned to Honey. “Wanna hang?”

  Honey, her pupils as dilated as everyone else’s, eyed him happily. “Sure.”

  Richard stood thinking after they’d left. Marcie watched him—his brown eyes in thought, steady, hair in soft waves reflecting the red light from the paper lantern, moustache dark against his skin, mouth slightly open, warm lips, full shoulders, long arms …

  “Hey,” he turned to her, smiling suddenly. “Are you studying me?’

  “I’m … I can’t help it. I’m really into things!”

  Putting his arm around her and taking her to him, he whispered close to her ear, “And I’d really like to get into you. Care to check out the sanctum sanctorum?”

  Marcie nodded, her eyes downcast, suddenly shy.

  “My lady,” he bowed, “this way.”

  Richard quietly closed the door to his room. Now that they were actually alone, everything was different. Marcie trembled with the sense of intimacy. With the crowds gone, the music finished, friends away and into the night, it was just the two of them. Richard leaned over to light candles, and Marcie gazed around the room in the diamond light, observing patterns. Objects were whole but slightly shifting, unfolding, somehow expanding and turning in on themselves all in the same moment. Frangipani incense drifted through the air, the scent taking her to another place, a garden in an Arabian story. Richard turned on the radio. The soft music of a flute filled the room with images, a bird in a tree, a rippling brook.

  “Would you like to take your shoes off?” he asked, rolling a joint from his box. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

  Marcie complied, stretching her toes back and forth.

  “You can take off the rest of your clothes, if you’d like. Feel more free.”

  She pulled off her shirt, and her hair fell over her face, crackling with electricity, covering her breasts. She unbuckled her belt, pushing away Levis and underwear. She stretched her hands above her head and closed her eyes. As she stretched, she flowed with the flute, flew with the bird, swam in the brook.

  When she turned on her toes, Richard simply stared at her beauty, his eyes on fire. In them, she read messages, could see that he wanted to pierce the thin veil between them, climb into her, touch her laughter, her softness, her secrets, her shyness, all that was personal to her. More, she wanted to open all those places to him.

  “Can I brush your hair?” he murmured.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  The brush massaged her scalp, pulling tangles from her hair, separating strands. “There’s light shifting among the waves,” he said softly. “Like rainbows.”

  Marcie turned and connected with his eyes. In that single moment, whatever they were, they laid bare to each other.

  “Take off your clothes,” she said softly, leaning against the bed pillows.

  When he was naked, she held out her arms, and he moved into them, lying next to her, getting closer, feeling her skin, caressing her, letting her get accustomed to his body, to his nearness, to the sound of his breath in her ear, to his lips on her face and neck. He moved in rhythm to the soft music, hands touching her body, slowly, lingering, memorizing as he went, until he had touched all of her, deep into her muscles, rubbing her back and buttocks and thighs, gently caressing the sacred place between her legs. Marcie wanted him to fill her, to reach deep inside, to the place that ached to be touched, and began to push against him with an urgency that spoke both of giving and taking.

  Slowly, he pulled her to him and sat her in his lap, their faces close. As Richard looked into her eyes, she knew here was her future, her children in the making. His penetration was more than physical. Inside, she was hot, and she moved with him, reaching deeper into his mind. When he finally groaned in his orgasm, his mouth against her neck, the feeling rushed through their bodies as if it would never stop, all mingled with the color and patterns of their visions, the smell of the incense, the gentle building notes of the guitar on the radio.

  “I love you, Marcie,” he whispered. “I love you.”

  Behind her eyes, at the height of her own pulsating orgasm, Marcie’s mind heard his voice flying through the tunnel of her own emotions and sensations. For the first time, she clearly knew that love was not of the body alone but a union of body, heart, mind, and spirit, something reverent, sacramental, connected through man to God.

  When their breathing was stilled and they had fallen back together onto the pillows, Richard leaned up on one elbow, a hand caressing her gently, moving from her breast to her stomach.

  “What do you think of the acid?” he asked quietly.

  “What can I say? It’s wondrous. What can I say to you? Thank you for the turn-on. For your love.”

  “Marcie, my love will be yours for a long, long time. Do you believe that?”

  In his eyes, she saw his unguarded self still watching her. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “It’s almost like I always have.”

  “What are you doing here in the Haight?” he asked. “What did you come to find?”

  “I think it was you. Love. An ideal to live for. A life with a dream. What’s your dream, Richard?”

  “To do what I’m doing. To create change by turning people on, dissolving ego. We’re in the middle of an insane war with no hope of winning. People are dying—Americans, Vietnamese. There’s no reason for this war. Or any other.”

  “And with acid …?”

  “Acid teaches, reveals the fragile soul-ego of each person. One trip, and you know that we’re all in this world to learn, to gain knowledge. Brothers and sisters playing the game together.”

  Marcie’s brow furrowed slightly. “It’s hard to understand why acid’s illegal.”

  Richard closed his eyes, held her a bit closer. “Marcie, you can’t run a military nation or make money off a war if people believe there’s no point in fighting. If they know there are other ways to solve problems. The military-industrial complex can’t afford to allow the voice of people whose first concern is human life, rather than wealth
.”

  Marcie leaned back to look more closely into his face. “You’re actually more than a pirate, aren’t you? You’re a kind of revolutionary.”

  “I’m fighting the system, just like pirates of old. But you’re right. I am a revolutionary—only, a kind the world has never seen before. I’m here to join with my brothers and sisters to make spiritual revolution, using acid as our weapon.”

  “You know, I’m not really sure what I’ve experienced tonight, except that I’ve never had a more profound experience. I’ve a new intimacy with God—as if I’ve gone from some dark age into the light.”

  Touching his face, she asked, “Richard, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-one. Richard Blake Harrison, from Seattle, Washington. Born August 5, 1946. How about you?”

  “Eighteen. I’ll be nineteen next month. July 17, 1948. Marcelle Jacqueline Arceneaux.”

  “Well, Marcelle Jacqueline Arceneaux, let’s shower and get dressed. Have you seen the ocean yet? I want to show you the Pacific at sunrise.” He gathered her in his arms, kissed her mouth, and said softly, “I heard the first of the birds. It’ll be morning soon.”

  Marcie watched as he jumped up, but stopped him with a word. “Richard.”

  Something in her tone brought him back to the edge of the bed.

  “I want you to know,” she said, her gaze sure and unwavering, “that no matter what happens, I’m with you in this revolution.”

  They drove through the park to the beach, running across the highway and down the concrete steps to the sand. Others were already there with bonfires. The ocean slapped against the shore with a roar. The wind blew cold off the water. Richard put his arm around her shoulders, and they began to walk along the beach.

  Everything has its own rhythm, Marcie thought, watching the waves. If I can match my life to each varying rhythm as it comes to me, then I’ll flow, easily.

  The water was starting to change color, from black with frills of white surf to deep gray. The first shades of pink began to tint the sky. Her soul drank in the colors, the inexplicable beauty of the soft subtleties of grays and pinks and golds. Even in the new illumination, her eyes made out subtly changing hues of objects, tiny patterns imprinting themselves on surfaces.

  A seagull flew overhead, calling out in the morning mist, and as she watched it circle overhead, catch the wind, move with the air current, she intimately knew the bird’s spirit.

  “Oh, Richard, everything is so beautiful. How can I thank you?”

  “By letting me love you. By being my lady.”

  “Always and forever.”

  The wind from the ocean carried their promise as they stood alone at the edge of the sea, and only the gulls overhead, the pelicans dipping into the waves, the sandpipers running through the morning tide, gave witness to their vows.

  RICHARD AND MARCIE

  THE HAIGHT-ASHBURY, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

  JUNE 1967

  “Where’ve you been?” Alex asked, pacing the floor impatiently.

  “I’ve been waiting here for hours.”

  “We went to the beach for sunrise,” Richard answered. “It’s Marcie’s first trip.”

  “Yeah?” Alex glanced at Marcie. “Well, I don’t like having to wait for you when we’re in the middle of a deal.”

  Richard was still too filled with the music from the concert, his union with Marcie, and the beauty of the morning to pay much attention to Alex’s peevishness.

  “What’s up?” he asked. “Did you talk to Carl?”

  “Ron and Carl got ripped off last night.”

  Richard’s eyes cleared. Alex had his full attention now. “How?”

  “I think they were both too stoned to know what was going on. They tasted some of the same tabs you did last night. These dudes came in, handed them a package, grabbed the money, and flew out the front door. When Carl got around to opening the package, he found four thousand saccharine tablets instead of the tabs he’d expected.”

  “I thought they were Angels? Angels are reliable.”

  Alex shook his head. “Ex-Angels. They’d been kicked out of the club sometime back.”

  “How’s Carl taking it?”

  “How do you think? He’s wiped out. Lost almost three grand.”

  Richard walked to the window, looked out, and thought how fast things could change. “Bummer. What’s he going to do now?”

  “Go back to Minneapolis to get some capital together.”

  “Did he tell you who he’s copping from?”

  “No, and I don’t think he’s going to either. Not if he’s coming back.”

  “Maybe we can pay him for the connection. I’d still like to get some of those tabs you gave me. It might be the best I’ve ever had. I’m sure that acid’s floating around.” He held up the few tabs left in the baggie: biconvex white tablets, smooth, powerful.

  Behind him, the door opened and Kathy walked in with a tired smile. “Morning, everyone. Oh,” she mumbled, looking at the bag Richard held, “more of them.”

  She threw her jacket next to her suitcase propped against the wall.

  “What do you mean, ‘more of them’?” Richard asked.

  “This guy named Kevin has hundreds of those at his flat.” She yawned.

  “Kevin! I’ve been trying to meet him for weeks!” Richard cried. “And now we know how to get hold of him!”

  The look Alex gave him insisted that they talk.

  “Marcie,” Richard asked, watching Alex’s face, “could you and Kathy get some breakfast together?”

  The girls were barely through the hallway door, moving toward the kitchen, when Alex muttered, “The chick probably doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “What if she does?” Richard grinned. “And if she’s right, we’ll give her a percentage for the connection.”

  “Why?” Alex’s voice was frustrated. “Just give her a lid and a few tabs. She’ll be satisfied. That’s a night’s party.”

  “With you? Huh, Alex? I thought you and Honey were an item last night,” Richard goaded him.

  “Well, she is asleep on my bed,” he mumbled.

  Laughing, Richard repeated, “‘Hundreds,’ she said.” He sat down on the floor mattress, took a tin from his pocket, opened it, and started rolling a joint. “You know what this means? We may have cut out not one, but two middlemen with this piece of good fortune. If the price is low enough, we’ll be able to offer a better price to our regular customers. It could mean we’ll pick up a whole new segment of the market.”

  “It just blows my mind,” Alex grumbled. “Here we are, working our asses off, and along comes this chick, and in less than twenty-four hours, she has free tickets to a concert, parties all night with Felix Ringer, and makes the connection we’ve been seeking for months!”

  “Have you ever stopped to realize, Alex, how many of our connections were introduced to us by women? Think about it. Mary Ann introduced us to our hash connection. And Sonia told us where to get good quality grass.”

  “Yeah, but we never had to pay them. They did it out of friendship.”

  “Wrong, friend. I paid them a percentage every time.”

  “Jesus, why’d you do that?”

  “Because it was the right thing to do. We benefited by it, didn’t we? And if you keep your friends happy, they keep on being your friends. They continue buying from you and turning you on to other people. That’s simple good business.”

  He picked up Marcie’s suitcase and guitar. “Want to have some breakfast?”

  “Where are you going with those things?” Alex asked, eying them suspiciously.

  “I’m putting them in my room. Marcie’s moving in—permanently.”

  “Jesus Christ! You’ve got to be kidding!”

  “Sorry, Alex, but it means you don’t get your turn with this one. I mean it. This is different. I want her to be my old lady.”

  “I’m not paying for her keep.”

  “No, you’re not. It’ll come out o
f my half. I can take care of an old lady now.”

  “Suddenly, I’m not hungry,” Alex told him coldly. “I’m going to find out if there’s any more news about that rip off. I’ll talk to you later.”

  In the kitchen, Marcie was looking through the refrigerator and cupboards, slowly, trying to keep it all together. But the oranges were so round and … well … orange … and the overhead light hit them in such a way that they rather sparkled …

  “Boy, you are really out of it,” Kathy told her. “What are you stoned on?”

  “LSD. Richard and I dropped together last night.”

  Kathy stopped, shocked. “Were you scared?”

  “Oh, no. It’s not at all what Life magazine tries to make it out to be. But … I don’t really know how to describe it. It’s … it’s like seeing God face to face … or meeting yourself for the first time. And so sexual, but … but not having to do with sex. As if this great part of me, the part between my legs, was opened up for the first time, like some passageway, and I was at the center of it. The Mother of all things. Caring, really caring about everything! You have to try it! I mean it! It’s probably the most important thing you’ll ever do!”

  “How was it with you and Richard?” Kathy asked, taking the eggs from her.

  Marcie looked off into swirls still floating through the air. “Oh, Kathy, last night, when I looked into his eyes, the light shining in them became a million sparkles of color. And looking past the light show, I saw his soul. A goodness in all he does. With him I can explore the solar system and the galaxies beyond and never be afraid. I love him!” she cried. “I never knew such feeling existed!”

  “Marcie,” Kathy’s voice held a hint of longing, “I’m so happy for you.”

  “What about Felix?” Marcie asked, remembering the concert. “He was outrageous!”

  “After the concert, we went from one house to another, meeting people. Getting high.”

  “Are you in love?”

  Kathy took a joint from her pocket, lit it. “I like him a lot. But … I don’t know, Marcie.” She sighed. “Truth is, I’m still thinking a good bit about Jim. Love? I don’t think I know what that is anymore. This morning, Felix wanted me to stay, but I couldn’t. All I feel is dead tired. My teeth hurt. Every muscle aches. I’m kind of edgy.”