650km Away From Where I Was Supposed To Be

Perhaps I'm becoming sentimental but, going over the chat messages saved from my training by an incredible human (and dear friend) here on Hive in June of 2022...

I actually got a liddle bit teary. ^{Don't tell. Disgruntled punk face back on.}

I've been necessarily laying low to reboot for a bit but, on this most auspicious day, I had to make the effort to participate.

Of course.

Hive has given me so very much, you see.

I doubt most of you'll ever fully understand exactly what this blockchain gave, and returned, to me and I don't wanna get all soppy about it anyway. But I discovered Hive at a time when I'd, pretty much, given up hope on humanity in full.

And then... I stumbled upon...

"something completely different!" ^{*stolen from some well above average British comedians}

The footage I saved from a conversation that went on for around three weeks or more with @julianhorack, who not only delegated me a generous amount of HP to get going around here but who patiently coached me through a steep learning curve...

goes on for over an hour and a half. Or more.

I'm still waiting for him to send me bits of it that I lost in a phone and Telegram account reshuffle. ^{Yes. I suck at admin everywhere.}

Not only did Julian delegate and support my entry onto this incredible blockchain...

he did the same for the few adventurous souls who I shared it with as well. And who wanted to give it a go.

Julian does this quietly in the background, simply because he wants to see this community grow and flourish. ^{F*ck Yeah!} But, I suspect, also because he's led a very spiritual life and, also, has less attachment to the material world than most people.

But that, as I like to say, is another story 😊

I thought longer and harder than I usually do about what I might post to contribute to this special initiative to celebrate what has been, and is being, built here.

I finally settled on this... some snippets of my entry and learning curve on Hive and why I chose to stick around forever.

Happy three years, Hive!

To many, many more fun, inspiring, successful and even bigger and better years as we grow together.

Vive la révolution! ^❤️

January 2001

 
A solo, seven hour drive up coast and I'm not even remotely tired.

As the afternoon begins to mellow into evening, I finish setting up the stall. I pack the now empty clothing bags, rolled up neatly, into one of the heavy plastic stock boxes used to transport the more expensive, imported, clothing.

I push these six, large boxes into a straight, horizontal line against the back of the stall. Uniform, they're transformed into both seating and a desk for me to work from during the long night ahead.

I hang the old-school-disco spot-lights from the metal canopy structure with cable ties, pointing them into corners and at the ground leading to the entrance of the stall. The path of coloured light gives the stall a feeling of carnival. The bright multitude of colours will, no doubt, attract festive party-goers to come and have some fun after dark.

The florescent lights go up last.

I tie these, one each, to two straight poles that stretch the tarpaulin roof tightly above me. As soon as I switch the ultra-violet lights on, the psychedelic wall-hangings used as backing for the stall explode into hypnotic neon.

Suddenly the two by four meter space seems to stretch and warp into the distance. The fluorescent lighting distorts the depth of all of it and perspective is completely altered. Altered states.

This is why we're all here.

I'm at a small underground, psychedelic trance party some 650km out of Cape Town, setting up my outdoor stall to sell my gear.

I've driven here alone with a truck full of stock and a heavy iron canopy tied by my own hands to roof-racks on top of the vehicle. I don't know anybody here and I'll be working alone straight through the night as well. I've randomly ended up in a different lifestyle by complete accident again...

and I'm loving every minute of it.

I'm also out here, living this lifestyle, even though I'm dead sober these days.

"I'm probably the only sober person at this event." I think, as I look over the field of moving people, some beginning to sway as the bass-line starts to rise in harmony with the disappearing sunset.

I'm not here for the drugs anyway. I'm here for the music. I'm here for the open road and travel. I'm here for the new places, new people and new adventures.

I'm here for the freedom of it all.

I'm a 29 year old flea market trader with a Bachelor's Degree, but I wouldn't trade this for anything.

I've already inherently understood that I won't be happy in some corporate corner somewhere. I know there's something off with the life I'm expected to lead. I know it isn't who or what I am. I know it's not even real somehow. I know it's not who I want to be. And I know I don't really want any part of it.

What I don't know yet...

is that my aversion to all of this isn't f*ckin' crazy after all.

They say when the student is ready, the teacher appears.

At around 11pm a tall, slender man walks into my stall. I rise to greet him and we begin to talk. He's a student of Krishna and is at the festival to sell food. He is also, obviously, sober. And he is also, obviously, "seeking".

We strike it off immediately and he sits eventually, so we can continue our conversation more comfortably. People come and go in between, as I get up to talk to them and make an occasional sale. The man comes and goes as this happens as well, to check in at the stall he's working with.

I suddenly realise that I can see his features clearly because the sun has risen while we've talked straight through the night. This almost seven hour first conversation...

will cement a friendship that'll span over twenty years.

Jaso, who I'll come to know later as Julian, and I...

will enter and leave each other's orbit again and again as the years pass.

Always at the most challenging times for me personally. At strange times. At in-between times.

In between these almost new beginnings, Jaso will suddenly reach out and we'll reconnect again. And I will always ask a million questions, listen carefully and learn something important from him.

And I will feel at peace for while as he listens to and hears me without judgement. Or surprise. But who could imagine as we sat quietly, talking of books and philosophy; gods and life beneath the stars all those years ago ...

that there would come a time, some twenty odd years later, when I'd reach out to this monk in a surprise turn of events...

and he'd teach me about blockchain tech as well.