I mostly keep it positive, which isn’t hard to do. After all, I’ve been blessed with loads of good fortune, which I appreciate because I’ve also experienced loads of pain.

Some may call me Pollyannish, but I’d rather walk around with a smile than be a grumpy trooper. But on some days, it’s harder to smile than others, and the grumpys get the best of me.

On Day 4 of my Arizona road trip, which I planned to do with my wife, then a buddy, but now I’m rollin’ involuntarily solo, I woke up feeling grumpy. I didn’t sleep great during the night, as they should call the Days Inn I stayed at the Nights Out because I had to change rooms when my heating unit broke. I tried to tough it out, but the night was cold, and my soul needed warmth. I woke up tired, missing my wife and kids, and still frustrated about my buddy flaking on me with hundreds of solo miles left to eat on this roadie.

When I’m feeling grumpy, I don’t want to do anything but be grumpy. I usually snap out of it before long, but if I’m afflicted at the wrong time, I’ll miss out on a fun, new experience because I wasted energy on being grumpy instead of being present in the here and now.

The grumpys almost got the best of me on Day 4. Fortunately, I snapped out of it just in time to unlock a banger.

The main purpose of this trip is to get the campervan to Arizona so my wife and I can get into adventures in it this winter, but we set aside a few days for side quests on the trip down. The side quest I was looking forward to the most was hitting Chaco Canyon in New Mexico, home to ancient megaliths profiled in season two of the Netflix documentary Ancient Apocalypse. 

I lost enthusiasm for Chaco when my wife and I decided she wasn’t a good fit for this trip, given her dog’s poor health, and I didn’t want to do it without her because we had talked about doing it together. When my buddy flaked, I didn’t want to do Chaco or any other solo side quests. I don’t love driving, I hardly do it, solo side questing in a megavan seemed indulgent, night driving is a nightmare, and I figured the wise thing to do was get to my final destination expeditiously. Plus, I was a grumpy trooper and having too much fake fun being in my feelz. Playing the victim is hard work, and I lacked the energy for actual fun stuff like dope side quests.

Even though the pragmatic me and the grumpy me were all about keeping it moving, the fun me won out in the end. At the last possible moment, I decided to go for it and hit the exit for Chaco Canyon. I’m so glad that I did. The experience was magical. 

I wrote a J’essay about how watching the Ancient Apocalypse documentary triggered a blurp where Source revealed that many ancient American megaliths were giant plant medicine temples where all kinds of supernatural and magical stuff took place. I wanted to visit Chaco to feel the vibe. I tuned into the vibe, and came away feeling as sure as Shiva that Chaco Canyon was a sacred healing place.

The drive into the canyon featured 30 miles of dirt roads with more cracks, crevices, gullies, and fissures than the San Andreas Fault. The journey made my poor campervan, Wanda J. Williams, work like a sharecropper, and I almost put her in a ditch when dodging a duper deep divot. 

The energy shifted when I drove into the canyon, and I felt on a soul level that this was a special place. The canyon’s big big vortex energy electrified my prana and activated my chakras. My chakras pulsed with energy, especially my solar plexus and heart chakras. I felt the ancestors were sending me a vibrational salutation that transcended language.

Chaco Canyon is inside Chaco Culture National Historical Park, and the National Park Service’s stewardship of the land has left the megalith ruins intact and well preserved.

The main megalith, Pueblo Bonito, is built into a cliff, and the inside part of it features a series of rooms that feel like a dungeon level on a Zelda video game.

The outside part has dozens of dramatic walkways, ceremonial staging spaces, and deep kiva pits you can walk in and around. I felt transported back to a time and place when the vibe was wavy, and things were way more magical.

I got the vibe that there were structures built on top of structures built on top of structures and that Chaco Canyon’s been a human holy place for thousands and thousands of years.

I got the vibe that ancient humans came from far and wide on pilgrimages to work with teams of shaman-scientists and receive biological and spiritual upgrades. I felt the ancestors speak to me vibrationally, and they invited me to sit in front of what I believe was a ceremonial space to practice breathwork. Some call it meditation, but I like breathwork.

Most of the breathwork I do is pretty mellow, but this time I felt called to practice a form of pineal gland activation where I hold a crystal to my forehead and squeeze my buttcheeks together, along with all the other muscles in my body. But with an extra special emphasis on squeezing my sphincter. 

I felt a shockwave of endogenous DMT erupt out of my pineal gland in the center of my brain, shoot down my spinal cord, and course through my body. I felt a tingling sensation like a fairy sprinkled pixie dust laced with aloe vera over my body that melted into my skin and touched my soul. I felt my consciousness expand, and a sense of Oneness with the Cosmos and everything in it.

I’ve experienced sustained elevated states of consciousness before, but this time was different. For the first time—not counting blurping or tripping off plant medicine—I could perceive entities from the spirit realm chillin with me like any other thing you’d see out in nature just as strongly as I could perceive any living thing in the physical realm.

The ancestors gifted me upgrades and leveled me up.

Feeling elevated and energized, I went for a hike up the cliffs abutting the main megalith,

through a slot canyon portal

where you emerge on a mesa overlooking the ruins.

My plan was to just to climb up the Pueblo Bonito overlook, but this was a “get to the top” hike, and I felt the familiar impulse to get to the top, even though it was starting to get late. I’d have to boogie if I wanted to avoid night driving, which, as I may have mentioned several times before in this space, I don’t love doing.

Getting to the top meant hiking about a mile and a half up another steep set of cliffs to the highest megalith in Chaco, Pueblo Alto. I took stock of my creaky knees, checked the sun’s position in the sky, held my arm out, and made an L with my thumb and forefinger like Moana when she’s wayfinding, and I didn’t love the vibe and almost turned back. 

When the pragmatic me was starting to win out, a father-son hiking duo came bounding down the trail and mega-hyped me up to get to the top. With some space around the moment, I now see that they tuned into my overwhelming dirt-dawg desire to get to the top, and they were into it. I loved their energy because it matched mine, and they were way over the top about me getting to the top. We hugged it out, dapped it up, they patted my shoulders and built me up like I was an MMA fighter after getting worked in the first round, all that. The dad even earnestly told me “you deserve this!” 

Their level of enthusiasm for me getting to the top convinced me that it was my cosmic destiny. I had to go for it. Feeling less like me and more like Link from Legend of Zelda, I powered to the top like a No Limit Spiritual Solider, only tripping twice on the way up.

I halfway expected to see a bush at the end that’d start chopping it up with me like I was Moses and dropping hints about getting Trump to do ayahuasca and fulfill his destiny to be a mega MAGA shaman.

That didn’t happen. But I did see a rainbow in the clouds that looked like a galaxy. 

I received it as a reminder from the ancestors that I’m a Rainbow Light Warrior here to share the medicine of love and laughter. I did an honor lap around Pueblo Alto, which I believe served as a planetarium or something like it, and snorted some Hapé inside the smaller megalith at the top, New Alto, to tune up for the descent.

Before I headed down the cliff, the ancestors invited me to share their energy. I started to gulp it in, but the ancestors explained on a level beyond words that’s not how it works. They showed me the way is to gently merge the toroidal field emanating from my heart chakra with the canyon’s energy fields. I did that, and it was beautiful. It bonded me with the ancestors on a soul level.

They urged me to lean into my authentic self. I have megalomaniacal tendencies, so I’m intentional about my humble. The ancestors told me to keep my humble, and rediscover my swagger. “Let your light shine, Rainbow Warrior,” they vibrationally spoke to me in what I call Soul Language.

The things I’m attempting to express here transcend words. I go into more granular detail about pineal glands, toroidal fields, and stuff like that in my second book, Good Vibes. But I just made up “Soul Language,” as far as I know, and I don’t understand half the stuff I catch a vibe on and write about, which is child’s play compared to my wife’s practice. She does spiritual stuff on higher dimensional planes of existence that transcends transcendence, and it overtaxes my brain just thinking about it. One of the reasons we get along so well is because while I love the head on her shoulders, I do not love being inside it. 

My pilgrimage to the physical pinnacle of the Chacoan culture provided me with priceless spiritual benefits. I paid for them with a brutal two-hour drive out of the canyon on roads that made Fred Flintstone’s slab seem like the autobahn by comparison and rocked poor Wanda like the Casbah.

Fortunately, the dirt road part of the adventure wrapped right before sunset, but I still had a couple more hours of scary night driving to the nearest Days Inn, where I’m a Cubit Zirconia status rewards member. Fortunately, Wanda and I made it to the Days Inn, and this time, I copped a room with a functioning heater.

Archaeologists say that the heyday of Chacoan culture was from 800 - 1,300 A.D., but some of the ancestors I tuned into lived thousands of years before that, perhaps even in a different dimension or timeline. Who knows? Wherever they came from, I got a strong vibe that they and all the generations who came after them lived in super egalitarian societies in flow with nature. They were all about helping, including each other, the planet, and entities in the spirit realm who were down to come out and play.

The New Earth I’m folding into looks way more like ancient Chacoan society than the society you and I are experiencing in the reality we’re sharing, where we take from each other like greedy apes and attack nature like overgrown army ants, destroying everything in our paths.

Also, in my New Earth we’ll push Wonder Woman whips powered by spiritual tech, and not beasts like Wanda, bless her eco-unfriendly, internal-combusting, inorganic soul.