Three years ago my roommate tried to stop me from going vegan.
(Shasta is coming soon I promise just give me a few paragraphs to set it up.)
Three years ago my roommate tried to stop me from going vegan. He walked into the kitchen, saw me drinking oat milk, and expressed sincere concern: according to Ayurveda, I needed meat. Or at least dairy. Veganism did not fit my constitution. It was for "kapha people". Vegan "vata people" were doomed to hobble through life pale and malnourished.
I was feeling particularly protective of animals that day, so I didn't listen. If Ayurveda said I needed meat and dairy, Ayurveda was wrong.
But this created inner conflict because Ayurveda was trad! How could a 5000+ year old system be wrong?
But if Ayurveda was right, then I was wrong. And vegans were wrong. Which meant my roommate was right, and I should eat meat.
But surely killing animals unnecessarily was wrong. But eating meat was traditional...
I had to break out of the loop. How could this contradiction be solved? Easy. I'd need to go further back in history and find a sustainable, traditional diet that was vegan.
I'd read on a stranger's blogspot that during the time of Satya Yuga, many thousands of years ago, human beings subsisted on fruits because fruits are the most gentle food. Fruits are the only food that is offered. All other food is taken. Cut, ripped, slaughtered. But fruit falls off the branches. The plant wants it's fruit eaten so the seeds spread.
Made sense to me. Theoretically, at least. Fruits were the ideal food for the gentle soul.
But only theoretically. In reality, this wasn't Satya Yuga anymore. You can't live off just fruits, right?
I search "fruitarian" on Spotify and start listening to a podcast about humans who live off just fruit. They're a fascinating bunch. There's a lot of overlap with the more mystical side of the functional healing scene (e.g. light medicine) and with the ante-deluvian civilizations (e.g. Atlantis, Lemuria) scene. I like the energy.
And so it's about an hour after my roommate tells me to eat meat, and I'm walking through Golden Gate Park listening to fruitarians talk about Lemuria.
Now I'm thinking about fruits and Lemuria. I have one book on Lemuria, The Lemurian Scrolls by Sivaya Subramuniyaswami. It describes the gentle, peaceful, spiritually evolved life of the Lemurians. They were probably fruitarians, I thought.[1] (According to The Lemurian Scrolls, they ate fruit, milk, honey, nuts, and seeds)
I'm thinking about fruits and Lemurians and gentleness as I walk out of the forested area of Golden Gate Park and back onto the concrete.
As my feet hit cement I started to look around me and see violence and death everywhere. I imagine living soil ripped up and smothered with tar and concrete. I imagine dense forests of huge trees mowed down with a bulldozer and thrown into woodchippers. I watch sickly birds flying through car smog and pecking at plastic bags. What a decrepit civilization!
I wanted no part of this. My soul belonged with the Lemurians. Society was deeply confused. I had been deeply confused too. But no longer. I understood now. I was born to eat fruits and play with ladybugs. Not eat plastic and play with digital text. I would no longer support this system.
Subramanyaswami, in The Lemurian Scrolls, said the Lemurians left behind certain energy spots where one could make contact with them.
And, as luck (strike) destiny would have it, there was one just five hours north of me. Mount Shasta.
I began to plan my trip. Maybe I'll go next weekend. You know, if my schedule permits it.
I caught myself. "If my schedule permits it."-- as if I'm doing anything important. What could possibly be higher-pri than contacting ancient light beings?
It was a Friday. 6 p.m, two hours after my roommate rebuked my oat milk, one hour after converting to fruitarianism. I could drive to Shasta right now and get there before midnight.
Since I was now a fruitarian I had no need to plan meals. I copped two bottles of gas station orange juice and set off.
I hit a big rest stop an hour out of Shasta. It was 10pm. To save money on a night of motels I slept in the dusty, cramped, trunk of my Corolla Hatchback.
I slept terribly and woke up the next morning exhausted. But my mission kept me going. I hit the road and when Shasta came into view, I focused on it hard. I wanted something but it didn't give it to me. Maybe it was creeped out by me. Maybe I had to be looser with it.
I reached Shasta, the town, and pulled up at a healthy breakfast spot. Just 16 hours after becoming fruitarian, I was already craving the breakfast sandwich. But, committed to the bit, I copped a smoothie.
I sat down with my smoothie and eavesdropped on the lady at the table beside me. She was on the phone coordinating an alien spotting mission with someone. "Kathy saw three UFOs yesterday! If we leave now, there should be a few still around."
She spoke about it like it was birdwatching. Like she was trying to see a bald eagle. Like it'd be cool but nothing that'd flip reality upside down. Her reality was already flipped.
After the call she hung up and started selling crystals to pedestrians. I felt at home.
Post-juice I headed to Panther Meadow, by the base of Shasta. Google said that's where one of the Mt. Shasta "energy vortices" were. I didn't know if "energy vortex" was semantically equivalent to Lemurian portal but it was probably a good first step.
I parked, got out, and stood at the feet of Shasta and stared at it some more. It was all dry and grey and gravelly, like a steep, unpaved gravelly parking lot. I focused again wanting to feel epic but felt nothing. All I felt was silliness. Then hopelessness.
Whatever. Let's hit the energy vortex. I walked out of the parking lot while trying to ring the Lemurians telepathically.
"Hey friends, if you're out there, please give me a sign. I want to be like you. Live like you. I've been fruitarian for nearly 16 hours! Teach me your ways. I can evangelize your culture."
I kept leaving futile voicemails until something finally happened.
All of a sudden, on a random point on the trail, by a nondescript boulder, my whole body felt buoyant and angelic. It straightened out and opened up, but in a pleasant rather than militaristic way. All the body's fatigue, and all its burning little aches and pains I'm so used to I barely notice anymore dissolved! It was like being hugged and permeated by a cool, sparkling, cloud.
There's something here! There's really something here! I couldn't believe it. I walked kept walking. A few steps later the cloud left me. My aches returned, but less bad than before. I retraced my steps and there was the cloud again! I walked in and out, testing it. Was this an energy vortex?
I pushed deeper into Panther Meadow, my hopes renewed.
As I walked I passed through more small clouds of energy and got more and more excited. Lemurians! Lemurians! I called to them maniacally. Lemurians! Please guide me! Wya??
Along the way, I passed a beautiful couple: woman in sundress, man in tunic carrying a wicker basket, both picnicking in the meadow. They smiled and laughed and ate grapes and held hands while I paced back and forth head down mind racing scouring for vortices.
But, as is always the case, as my frenzy for the supernatural intensified, I grew less and less sensitive. After an hour of diminishing returns I gave up. I had to ground, regroup, and retry. I headed back to town for some guidance.
I pulled up to a cafe, still somewhat frenzied, and ordered an egg and cheese breakfast sandwich dripping with oil and dairy. I forget how I justified it. I hoped the Lemurians would understand. Had they hit me back I would've had the strength to stay fruitarian, you know? Big change needed some social support, you know?
The first person who caught my eye was a big rastafarian man. He was older-- maybe 60-- had dreadlocks and a red-green-yellow reggae shirt. He reading a thick book called "Esoteric Egypt" and taking careful and serious notes in a massive B4 notebook. Clearly my kinda guy.
I sat down at the table next to his and shot.
"Hey man, I'm looking for Lemurians. Just had a feeling you'd know about them."
The rasta man turned his head slowly and silently. He turned his head like we were in Ocean's 11 and he was the ex-teammate now in retirement and I had just pulled up after 30 years like: "come on, just help me hit this one last job." Careful, reluctant, but piqued.
He spoke slowly: "What do you want to know?"
"Just, like, whatever you have, I guess. I don't really know where to start."
"Well, you're asking me about the Lemurians." He paused.
"Yeah."
"But before you can know the Lemurians." He paused.
"Yeah?"
"You gotta know yourself."
"I see."
"So. Do you know what you are?"
Then it hit me. This man was some kind of rasta sensei, and I was Karate Kid.
"Not really. Trying to figure that out too."
"It's simple. I mean, what are you made of?"
"Uh..." I figured I'd give him a Mt. Shasta answer. "...light?"
"Hm. What are you?" He paused.
"Uh..."
"A human being."
"Right." I said, feeling embarrassed.
"So. Human. Hu. Man. You know what hu means?"
"Uh..."
"Hu. Derived from the Latin: humus. Humus."
"Ah!"
"What's that? Humus. It's Earth. Dust. You're made of dust."
"I see."
"Words are important. People just say words without thinking about them. You gotta know where words come from. Dust. What's dust made out of?"
"Uh..."
"Carbon. What's carbon?"
I tried to lock in. "It's a, uh, molecule. Six protons, six neutrons, six electrons..."
"Six protons, six neutrons, six electrons. 666. You ever heard of that?"
"Devil's number."
"Devil's number. 666. Carbon. Interesting, right?"
"Interesting..."
"666. Carbon. Listen. You ever hit some good weed, and you're like, 'damn! this some good shit!'"
"Not exactly, but I understand the sentiment."
"You ever hit some good pussy, and you're like, 'damn, this some good shit!'"
"Not exactly..."
"Well what's shit!? What's shit made out of?"
"Carbon?"
"Carbon! Dust. Humus. When we say 'damn! this some good shit!' What we're saying is, 'damn! this some good carbon.' That's all it is. 666."
A young Chinese mother walked by in a tight top. Rasta sensei, truly a learned man of many letters and tongues, hit her with a "Ni hao ma". She smiled at him.
"You see that? That's polarity. Women are electrons. Negatively charged. Men, we're protons. Women draw us in. We can't help it. It's magnetism. Opposites attract. Physics is important. Like words. You gotta know your physics. People don't know their physics. You know about plasma?"
He flashes me another book out of his backpack. A New Science of Heaven, by Robert Temple. I'm about it, but still I have to ask:
"Man. I'm sincerely fascinated with this stuff. Believe me. But... how do you know what's true and what isn't? I feel like every esoteric author has their own theory, and they'll often conflict. Surely it all can't be real. Also, where do you find these books? Google?"
"Google? HA!" He looked at me like I was joking.
"Listen. You gotta do your research.
Re. Search.
Another word.
What does it mean?
Re. Ra. Who's Ra? The sun god.
Ra. Ray. Ray of light. Illumination.
When someone gets an idea, we say a light went off in their head. They were lit up. They were illuminated. Re. Ra. Sunlight.
So, re-search depends on sunlight. But people are out here doing research with artificial light? On a computer screen? Does that make sense to you?
People don't think these days. They don't look at words.
And Google?"
He chuckles.
"Google won't give you anything. Google's run by nazis. Don't believe me? Look it up."
I tried to Google this claim on my phone before realizing the error of my ways.
"If you're honest, life will lead you to the right books. Are you an honest guy?"
"Somewhat"
"You do any mischief?"
"Occasionally"
"You can't be doing mischief. You've got to be honest. Humble. Then you'll learn.
Now, at the beginning of all this, you wanted to know about the Lemurians.
Well, if you wanna know the Lemurians, you've got to know yourself. You're looking outwards, but you've got to look inwards."
Bob Marley comes on the cafe speaker. Sensei gets up and starts bobbing. "Yeaaaaaaahhh. Now this some good shit.
Pay close, close, attention to his words my friends."
"What's your name man?"
"Ras. Ras Lion."
Ras Lion slowly bops his way backwards out of the cafe. He points at me from the doorway.
"You have a great day, alright? Remember, know yourself."