I tried very hard to inhale all of the magic of our time together there. Eleven hours in the lab. The rest spent sitting around stoned, chatting or listening to music. We ate oatmeal and soup and drank coffee. On the second day we drove to East Point — as is ritual by now — and were very lucky to see two grey whales just thirty or forty meters from us. Ecstasy! Then all of a sudden they would dive down and we'd lose track of them. We ran around up and down the trails in search of their slick arched backs penetrating the surface of the straight. Or a big burst from a blow hole. It was childish and beautiful - a warm memory I think I'll keep forever.
This was a special trip with a big final intention: to dismantle the lab Sid and I built on Saturna and bring it back to Vancouver in order to have more consistent access to the holographic process. We both still have much to learn but it's the pleasure of the process that pulls me towards it. It's so easy to become lost in the glow of the laser light in the darkened room. Especially when we are waiting in silence and stillness for the room and objects to settle, essentially meditating, in a room together. In that context it's impossible to forget the spiritual and social dimension of holography.
Love to Al, Sid and Madeleine