Super Hippy Diaspora 2

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Super Hippy Diaspora

In the 1960s, I was too young to be a hippy; but in the early ’70s, I was there when Motown was happening and missed the taint of disco. As Hunter S. Thompson says, “California is where the American dream went to die,” but for me, the dream never died. It mutated into a new age of being, and I lived in a small commune for six years. But in the ’70s, there seemed to be a cutoff day for the whole movement. The last hippy I knew, back in the mid-’80s, was a guy who had been a genetic researcher at Stanford. He created the first chimeric organism, which was a cross between a mouse cancer virus and E. coli bacteria, which exists in the bowels of all humans. Our 20-year-old professor freaked out, called it a weapon, and ran off to Jamaica before reggae was popular. He dropped out, eventually came back to the West Coast, started a three-person commune, and launched an organic seed company. I stayed there for a week, sleeping on the dirt and waking up to meditate in the same spot in the front yard driveway.

I saw the professor in Eugene in the late ’80s. He had cut his dreads and was driving a BMW. This chance final meeting and my superficial belief that I had given up at the time was only maya, an illusion created by my stoned thinking processes up to that point. In review of all this, I see a thread of values and love that never left me, which makes me a real hippy. These values and awareness are like an anvil on which we each forge our own little super hippy diasporas, and this anvil is indestructible like the ultimate consciousness, Brahman. In the super quantum computer that underlies the matrix of the multiverse, we are all connected in something that is really love. This forms a kind of infinite commune everywhere, so come and join us. We are here!