I Hate to Beat the Wordsworthian "Suckled in a Creed Outworn" Drum, But...

This passage makes me want to...

"Among the Yahgan (or Yamana), as Father Gusinde learned: 'A man could be strolling along the seashore, lost in dreamland, without thought or purpose, when he would suddenly find himself in the midst of a visionary spectacle of what are known as asikaku, "apparitions.' Around him crowds an immeasurable company of herrings, whales, swordfish, vultures, cormorants, gulls, and other creatures. All are addressing him in flattering terms, respectfully, in the most friendly way; and he is beside himself, has no idea what is happening. His whole body numb, he drops to the ground and lies there without moving. His soul (his kespix), that is to say, is consorting with the spirits, and feeling, while among them, an inordinate joy. Then suddenly, they are gone."

I was going to say this is like a rally in a blog's comment boxes, except for the "addressing him in flattering terms, respectfully, in the most friendly way" part, obviously.

But for me, this is exactly the experience, the spiritual remove I have when I am at the Salvation Army store and communing with Mon-Chi-Chis, troll dolls, seals made out of sand, a hippo planter from the 1940s, a Yoda cake mold, etc. I realize my thrift store visits are rarely about purchasing but more about the experience of allowing the objects there to unbracket one's little mind in the most generous way. I would "drop to the ground and lie there without moving" (no shit) if I thought I could get away with it.

But something tells me my car keys would be removed from my person in short order.

Sigh.

This is from Campbell's great Historical Atlas of World Mythology. This is from Volume 1: The Way of the Animal Powers. Part 2: Mythologies of the Great Hunt. It's an oversize book and you already know the art is the sort that lifts you out of your body while you're looking at it.