finished our discussion about the map, we practiced blocking, another skill Elsa insisted I needed to have. Blocking is the act of keeping people out of your head so they can’t read your thoughts or harm you. I thought I had mastered that skill in the first few days after my peyote trip when we had ridden trains around the city. But she was not backing down.
“Didn’t I already do this on the train,” I repeated. “What else is there to know?”
Her reply was swift. Elsa pushed against me with her mind with so much force that I almost fell off my chair. As I feebly tried to block her, my nose began to gush blood.
“See what I mean,” she said, handing me a tissue. “Blocking is like one of the baseball games you love so much. Energy shifts. One distraction, one error and you can be behind in the count, as you like to say.”
My task for the remainder of the evening was to focus and maintain my blocking. No matter how hard Elsa pushed, I was to resist. I had to focus and not divert my attention, for even a moment. That was somewhat easy if I was standing still watching her. But then she insisted we go outside and run. Trying to block while moving was a whole other story. I had to look down to see where I was going and try to keep her locked out of my skull. As I tore though the forest behind the museum, jumping over logs and trying to avoid obstacles in the dark, I could feel her pressing on me.
At first I was too distracted to keep her out and she wasn’t even trying very hard. Then my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and I began to use my senses more efficiently. I calmed my mind as Elsa had instructed and began to imagine a huge force of energy surrounding me. It both protected me and propelled me. I could see the glow in my mind’s eye—a sensation Elsa had told me to expect. I was generating a field of energy around my body and my mind. For a short while I was able to run with ease and felt no pressure in my head. Then, for one moment, I got distracted and my mind wandered and just like that…Wham! It felt like Elsa had taken a bat to the back of my head. I went down in the mossy loam of the path and curled up into a ball.
“Why did you stop concentrating?” Elsa asked as she ran up and bent over me.
“Why did you wallop me in the back of my head?” I gurgled from the forest floor.
“I didn’t mean to use so much force,” she said, trying to help me up. “You were doing so well, you were aglow. I was testing you and then—poof! you stopped blocking…” Elsa stopped mid sentence when I abruptly put my hand to my nose, where I could feel the warm trickle of blood starting up again.
“Let’s go inside” she said. “I will help you clean up.”
****
CHAPTER 17
After a couple of weeks avoiding nosebleeds and working what amounted to a double shift, I was ready for a break from my duties. Luckily, my need for a diversion coincided with the arrival of a bluegrass music festival. Planned and paid for through the generosity of a local philanthropist, the annual event is a three-day tribute to the twangs and twinges of guitar, fiddle and banjo. The music is performed in several large meadows and groves in Golden Gate Park where bands play continuously from late morning until dusk. Because it’s free, tens of thousands of people stream into town to enjoy the music. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the last days of San Francisco’s Indian summer than outside at a concert.
On the first day of the festival, I printed out a map of the five stages and the program of performers. I perused the lineup of bands and plotted a strategy for moving as little as possible while enjoying maximum sun and music. After some quick deliberation, I decided to make camp in an area where local bands would be performing. Most of the big names I wanted to watch like Iron and Wine wouldn’t perform until early evening. I knew some people would stake out a place now for those shows, but I didn’t have the heart to sit through music I didn’t like for