Daring and resourceful camo-drest driver of a van!

April  30, 2015

Daring and resourceful camo-drest driver of a van!

I have a general ploy that I have used many times to simply save my ass. “Even this must be funny,” is where I am most likely to go. It’s a personal tribute to a master comedian, Jules White, who used to say,  ”It’s all non-stop comedy.” He was, of course, talking first about himself.

So here I sit in El Valle, Panama, in the big old red van right on the highway in front of the Bodhi hostel. The valley is quite interesting and may even be unique in the world: a village built in the valley crater of a sleeping volcano that once was full of water, draining some thousands of years ago, attracting indigenous Panamanian Indians to the spot equal perhaps in the thousands of years when they first settled. And I have arrived on their scene, unsung, unseen and thankfully just ignored especially as I am a large Ford van in the Japanese driving town right up front on their big road.

I am in deep trouble. Oh, the trouble is at bay for a while but basically I am stuck. And I do not know what it will take to be grown up enough to go to Ecuador. In a world made of money my sparse nest egg will not make the cut. So instead of allowing myself to lament my plight (real enough) but stirring my funny bone in a kind of quirky way: I take my search for a way out out there onto our cyber highway, the world wide web. Craigslist seemed a good place to begin. I placed a couple of ads in Ecuador and in Panama. One came back from Ecuador from Mohammed, whose family is plotting a trip through Darien through the trackless jungle to Colombia. Mohammed said in his mail that his father and mother have a 4×4 military all terrain whatever major truck: if there is no road, they will build one. Okay that smacks of GREAT ADVENTURE: right up my alley.

The first thing I too learned when I was contemplating Journey of the Lotus is that there is no road from Panama to Colombia. Now I sit in Panama, there is no ferry either. That could also be funny….to get all this way and be stopped by no ferry …and no dinero to boot. I also joined a Yahoo group here in the valley and proceeded to answer all kinds of mail proclaiming my services: the juicer sits at the ready to make fresh raw juice. Two sewing machines are also on board to perform miracles of repair and restoration of clothing or what have you. A man mailed me about a handbag project his wife begins in August already seeming like contract work not well paid in the world of money.  While I am not good at that, I will wait and watch.

Never say never and never say no until…. Still, Darien seems easier to me, and more fun. So here I am feeling intrepid and stuck at the same time. I am assessing ALL the possibilities that I can dream up as well as just keeping my feet out of the puddles all over the driveway from heavy downpours all day, lightning and thunder crashing at the lip of the crater above us another 2000ft. I am in trouble. Without income, the prospects are dwindling. I am on it big time with the notion, with the intention that somehow there is a much bigger idea to come my way and I am as equal for it as I will ever be.

Freedom means there’s nothing left to lose! I wish to intrigue each of you reading this today, that a gift, a participation of only $100 would support the way to Ecuador or to the perfect place to regroup sufficiently to go the next step. The vision of a plantation village and healing temple with a hostel is a very viable option and I am skilled and wise enough to work the Plan that it takes to bring together all the people and the other needed elements to have it all spring alive and well out of the ground. Do you wish to participate in this reality?  Isn’t the world ready enough for enlightened life?

Well, my darlings, Grandmother prays that it shall be. And then she laughs at herself in her funky camo shorts as she fires up the van to make it to the market for fresh veggies after the down pour has ended, of course. No sense ruining the coif!

Much Love and Blessings, Amraah