Kundalini and the Art of Being ... 141Though I enjoyed some of the music, I spent most of the next two
days there basically wishing that I were elsewhere.
And then, on the last night of the festival, I was robbed again.
I came back from the show to find my tent wide open. The thief
had apparently been in a hurry, because my backpack and sleeping
bag were still there. They had probably been looking for drugs or
money, since other than my rain jacket they had taken only some
little bags containing small items. I was relieved that at least I hadn’t
lost more.
The next morning I woke early, packed up, and got a ride the hell
out of there, heading south. I figured I’d head down to Eugene and
see what possibilities might present themselves there. I was bummed
out that my summer was off to such a rough start and hoped some-
thing would come up that would help turn things around. Although
I still had most of my essential traveling possessions other than the
rain jacket, I simply felt violated by yet another theft. And since I had
been unable to find a ride out to the gathering in Missouri, the rest
of the summer was looking like a big question mark. Why had this
happened, and what did it mean? Was this a sign that I had diverged
from my path somehow? Or was it just random karma that I couldn’t
recognize? Why did these instances of theft happen so often to me?
There seemed to be no clear lesson to learn from this incident—just
more frustrating pain to endure and, I hoped, quickly move beyond.
The ride that I got out of Rainbow Valley was headed straight to
Eugene, about three hours away. I figured I’d probably head from
there out to Cougar hot springs and spend a few days soaking and
relaxing in the warm waters. After I bought a cheap rain jacket in
Eugene, I decided to try and find Jeffrey before leaving town. I knew
that he was friends with the owners of Icky’s, a teahouse and hang-
out on the west end of town. After asking around, I was told that he
was staying with some folks in one of the apartments right across the
street from the teahouse. I walked over and knocked on the door. A
red-haired, scraggly-looking guy opened the door and poked out his
head.