The Hippy Compound

I’m back from the hippy compound. The hippy’s are older now, and they’re into blending.

“Are you using that Blender?”

All health no fitness, for the hippy’s, nobody looked all that healthy to be honest.

The hippy compound is an old hot springs north of San Francisco. I made the drive and stayed for a couple of days. It’s gods country up there, hills and oaks, wild turkeys and the hot and cold plunge. The hippy’s were nice. They weren’t all hippy’s, in fact, very few were, there was a mixed bag of tourist from Japan and Russia, mixed in with everyday people who happened to be naked. It’s a clothing optional place, and to tell you the truth, I saw more people than usual wearing clothes, which made me think that the clientele is shifting.

All the young, good looking women were lesbian’s. I kind of felt left out of that equation. I was wondering why things had to be so cut and dry. Good for them. The only thing that bothered me about the lesbians, was my exclusion.

I took a hike up a trail, and followed a sign that said, Tea House. I walked up hill for a ways, when I finally ran in to it. It was an octagon shack that was perched on a ridge that over looked the valley. There was a sign outside the door that said it was to be used for mediation purposes only. Guest had contributed to an alter that was set up, and there was a couple of journals with notes that people had left behind. It was very interesting place. I was just starting to explore it when a naked man walk in. He kind of ruined my moment alone. He was a nice man. He told me the history of the place. I decided to draw a face in one of the journals. I used some colored markers that were sitting on the floor to make the face more interesting. I wrote at the top of the page in black ink, above the drawing, Don’t think.. trust.. if only it was so easy.