Construct Reality Then Howl at the Moon

“Mushroom tea at midnight. Mushroom tea, jus’ five minute lef’ evahbody,” Lennox, the lead vocalist shouts to the packed crowd just before his band, “Blue Haze” busted into a rough cover of the Jimmy Cliff iconic favorite, “You Can Get It If You Really Want.” I don’t miss the irony. Half of our mass of humanity is shifting, shuffling, bumping, and winin’ our rusty North American bums at the Bomba Shack this February full moon night have not had any “schrooms” for as long as we could remember, but that’s not surprising.

I know many people who believe that everyone in the Caribbean do nothing but party. This is extremely misleading. However, people of the Caribbean definitely know how to, and when to, Pah-teh. Tonight is one of those times.

A brief jaunt from unknown Carrot Bay, on the quiet north shore of Tortola, British Virgin Islands (BVI), is the very well known, anything-but-quiet, Bomba Shack. Bomba insists that besides hard drugs, anything goes at The Shack. Mostly what goes are tourists’ inhibitions and women’s undies.

The Bomba Shack is a product of the sea. Perched just above the water’s edge at Capoon Bay, what passes for walls are pieces of driftwood and old crates. Anything the sea throws up Bomba uses for construction. Inside, sea junk is either hung up or becomes a tabletop or bench. It is normal in the Caribbean to re-use items. What is not normal here are the discarded bras and panties that cover the interior walls, making the Shack look like a surreal Victoria’s Secret shop. One sign entices, “Free Bomba Tee Shirt for any lady who takes her top off.” By the look of The Shack, many ladies have Bomba Tee shirts. Any wall space not displaying frilly garb is plastered with “wise sayings.” Slogans range from the psychological to the anatomical. I am sure you have seen such “wisdom,” usually on public restroom walls.

As a special treat each full moon, the infamous host offers up, in addition to live music, gallons of booze, large plates of food, and a sand dance floor . . . hallucinogenic tea served at the stroke of midnight. This is Bomba’s Full Moon Party. Once a local eccentricity, now, thanks to the Internet, it is a world-class occasion.

The “Magic Tea” is brewed in a large cauldron across the road from the seaside shack and is tended to by Bomba’s cousin Leroy. Locally grown psilocybin mushrooms provide the magic, and Bomba provides the cups. In the BVI, it is not technically illegal to possess mushrooms, only to sell them, so Bomba sells $10 cups and offers the tea for free. Local police, always in attendance, do not object. No problem. A healthy dose of exhibitionism usually follows. This is the spot for the very straight to get a little not so straight, without legal consequences. Reckless abandon without the wreck. Why do you think people call the Caribbean paradise?

At exactly midnight, Lennox stops Blue Haze mid song and screams into the mic, “It be twelve, de tea be ready, time foh de tea.” Hundreds of us scramble, limp and hobble with our $10 plastic cups to Leroy’s boilng pot of our remembered reality of 1960’s freedom. We are not so much trying to relive our pasts, as recapture a few moments of “insightful” reality that we think we remember.

Our “abnormal” behavior takes place in what is called a “situational norm.” We psilocybin tea patrons are the same middle class, god-fearing, value-seeking, work-obsessed, materialistic, suburbanites from North America and Europe, who would be the first to condemn “drug use” back home. We are the first in line for Cousin Leroy to ladle out a few ounces of “magic tea” because this is a “perfect storm” for our situational norm breaking. We have created a constructed reality of bad as good, with no penalties. Can life get any better? Probably not, but I also know there is fault in the construction of this reality.

My guess is that all of us have rationalized participating in “abnormal activity” because it is a “special” situation. As a sociologist, I ask, “Why do we choose to be, or not to be involved?” As a First Wave Boomer, I can tell you exactly why I am first in line for several rounds of Leroy’s ladled liquid. I want to enjoy reckless abandonment without the wreck. I believe we humans know that bad is sometimes good, and once a month, that is possible at the Bomba Shack. However, this is only my mental construct (constructed reality) of a situational norm.

After 43 years of teaching and studying human behavior, I know that as we mature, engage in life, collect experiences and beliefs, we each construct of our own realities of how the world works. Constructed reality is like being fitted with a pair of pink contact lenses at birth and unknowingly going through life seeing everything in pink, while everyone else is seeing every other color in a rainbow.

Constructed Reality has everything to do with our perceptions of the world, and is expressed through the words we use, how we use those words and our interpretations of the words of others. Known as the Linguistic Relativity Hypothesis, the viewpoint states that every cultural group and each individual perceives a different construct of reality. What does that tell you? According to the Hypothesis, if there is no word for something, there is no something. Or to put it another way, we construct our reality by the words we use.

. . . . . . .

Several days ago, I am in my very “not private” private office in Joyce 200 as classes changed. Two young men, leaving a class from down the hall, were having a brief but highly revealing exchange. Student One: “So what the hell was he talking about?” Student Two: “I don’t have an effing clue, I was talking with my girl friend,” as he pocketed his smart phone.

I have not heard these mental constructs since last fall semester – around the same time, four weeks into the term. What am I to take from my perception of their perceptions? It certainly is not what we who teach, administer, and support Champlain students want students to perceive. This is not the constructed reality we are striving to attain.

Throughout my 43 years of college teaching I have been fascinated with the thinking and decisions that college students make. Many of my colleagues (at three different colleges or universities) are often baffled by why students think and behave in certain ways. I believe my colleagues fail to realize the situational norms that are constructed during a student’s college experience. Anyone at any age will “drink the mushroom tea,” if it is a Full Moon Party at the Bomba Shack. Creating a negative, difficult reality in which to live, is a trap that many of us fall into. I believe the two men walking down the hall have fallen into the trap of constructing a negative reality in which to spend the present. This is so unfortunate when you consider the potential of what a positive, engaging reality you can wring from this college, from your daily experience to your future goals. Champlain College is a collecting pool of dedicated professionals that offer vast resources of which each of you has unusual access. If you have attended other institutions you know I speak the truth. What I heard from the two gentlemen in the hallway is a wasteful mental construct.

I have picked up a few ideas in four decades of teaching that could be helpful. 1) You likely decided to like or dislike each of your classes on the first day. The longer you hold a negative and non-engaged reality, the more difficult it will be for you to learn anything in that class. As you work against your learning by cutting classes and not participating, the more negative your constructed reality of the course will be. By week four a feeling of never-ending repetition can set in. 2) The “parole” from parental oversight may open a world of “situational norms” that excite, feel great, and comply perfectly with certain hormones that are plentiful in your body at this point in your life journey. Situational norms easily become institutionalized, as several nights a week become Jello nights. This can easily become your constructed reality for college life. 3) By contrast, you can use your college career as a guide for choosing the situational norms you partake in-or not. And if so, when and where you partake in them. Easy? No. Doable? Yes.

How you handle situational norms and your constructed realities will determine your success or failure. Check out the number or percentage of students who enter college in the U.S. with the number or percentage that graduate. This is why mom, dad, grams, and grand pop can howl at the moon once a month but must contain those situational norms to “special occasions.”

A closing point, however you wish to play the situational norm game, and the reality you construct, remember that it is all in your head, and no one knows that better than Bomba.

Many Me's

Schizophophrenia! Hell, that is just the trailer to my flick. I have a sizeable community of characters in my head, a posse of misfits and do-fits that seem to get along pretty well and pop out whenever they feel like doing so. Want to swap lies with a Caribbean pirate, “you slimy sea dog,” I’m your guy. Want to have tea with a Brit Twit and discuss the demise of the “Em-pire!” I have Sir Percy Dovetonsils at your convenience in Joyce 200, hoping some of you will drop by. Some people believe that enjoying the different mirrors of their mental disco ball of life is not healthy. Well, tell that to my Rick Ekcarts, Caribbean cultural explorer for 40 years.

Of course, Rick would be the first to admit that there are days when life can get a bit grainy, perplexing, and somewhat lonely. That is because we forget all of the “me’s” that reside inside of us. Back in 1997, I had been in the Caribbean for six months, the last five weeks of which were spent on a solo exploration of many fascinating cultures. The problem was that six weeks of being an outsider, isolated from my friends seemed like an eternity. In the uncertainty of my adventures, I had ignored all my “me’s.”

. . . . . . . .

Ladies and gentlemen, in preparation for our take-off would you please make sure that your seat belts are fastened securely, that all carry-on items are stowed in the luggage compartments above you or tucked under the seat in front of you. All seats must be in their full upright and locked position. Caribbean Island Airlines once again thanks you for choosing Caribbean for all your travel needs.

As I squeeze most of the blood from my lower body tightening my seat belt, I turn my head just far enough to the left to make eye contact with what the British might call a “Stunnah.” The professionally primped woman sitting just across the aisle in this tiny hot plane freezes my mind. I smile and give a slight eye roll, implying the multitude of times we have heard the flight attendant mantra. She smiles in response making my head spin. I am unable to speak. Suddenly she breaks the awkward pause, “So, who are you?”

“That depends, “ I reply. (What kind of a dorky reply was that? Am I in 8th grade?)

“On what?” she puzzles.

In my nervousness I blubber, “On who you ask, and when you ask them.”

She squints an eye that I interpret as curiosity. I launch my riff:

“To my neighbor, I am a funny guy,
To a bookstore owner, I am an author,
To a roadside observer, I am a motor scooter sidecar enthusiast,
To a short person, I am a tall guy,
To a macho man, I am a weenie.

To my wife, I am Ali,
To my sister, I am a big dog head,
To my brother-in-law, I’m Big Al,
To one sister-in-law, I am a ton of fun,
To another sister-in-law, I am a jerk.

To the payroll officer at Champlain College, I am a nine-digit number,
To wait staff, I am a good tipper,
To a chef, I am a vegetarian,
To a Burlington, Vermont bike path regular, I am a bicyclist,
To a cancer doctor, I am a miracle man.

To current students, I am Professor Stracke,
To 20,000 former students, I am a Sociologist who thinks 43 years is still a new career,
To a social observer, I am a tad flamboyant,
To a conservative, I am a socialist,
And to myself, I am a bit of an amnesiac.”

“What was the question again?” I ask.

She abruptly turns her head and looks out the window. She doesn’t say another word.

. . . . . . . . .

Upon reflection, two things are obvious; 1) I am a jerk, but I am old enough to enjoy my Jerkatudeness, and 2) All of us are many persons, given the situation. It is a fact that you will become many people as you gain experiences and understanding. Your college years are about many things, not the least of which is to discover your Concept of Self, who you are, what you are, who you are not and what you are not. This is the perfect time in your life to explore how you are going to intertwine in this wacked out world. There are no limits on you except your own. You are your only obstacle.

Reggae music icon, Jimmy Cliff put it straight 35 years ago, “You can get it if you really want it, . . . but you must try, you must try, you must try.” ‘Nuff said.