Clear back in my drug induced Dazed and Confused watching days while lighting the bong, I noticed something. I noticed that there was a general absence of goals in a potheads life. Quite simple was the fact that daily the search would begin to find more weed or to get high. There were many nights that nothing would be found and for the true joneses out there, you remember the nights of cleaning resi from the bong and lighting it. All that for the calm, the buzz the different thoughts to float and flow through the marvelously colored universe. Then it dawns on you. There is none for tomorrow.
I may have quit smoking the ganja but I remember those days a lot more clear than some of my compatriots. I remember thinking about what I could improve while high. Normally people get lazy on pot, not me I got all sorts of active and crap. I would flit from one thing to another in a motion of business but never going anywhere. I would grab the guitar and create wonderful sounding songs and not remember them twenty minutes later. The weed did this? No way. couldn’t be. I just have bad memory I think. At eighteen? Yep. Bad is the new early. I did enjoy the interesting ideas that crept in but I did not enjoy not being able to remember them.
So, each day, we would scour every drug dealer we knew for pot. On rare occasions we would come across some hash or some opium. One particular night, we found some awesome dank pot and some opium and had Mezcal tequila with the worm in it. I drank, smoked and enjoyed for a few hours until the worm I ate on a dare and all combined for disaster. I wound up at a dance club and peed myself. I don’t remember being that high or drunk but I was screwed up royally. I was even high in my dreams about six hours later. Vivid real looking flashes of brilliant color dazzled my psyche for my unconscious desires. Wow. That movie would have sold many a great ticket seat and some popcorn. Imagine something akin to Trainspotting (even though I stayed clear far away from Coke and Heroin, I did watch the movies relative to them), Pulp Fiction and Half Baked blended together in a swirly pretty mix of color and designs popping from 2d to 3d. Yeah, kind of like that. Don’t do drugs (laughing out loud).
So it dawns on me today, roughly six years since I have been off the pot that I have not quit weed, I replaced it. Daily I seek my grace like a man mad for finding a fix. Daily I die to myself or try to. It too me, has become a spiritual search for meaning. I’m not criticizing those who still do, just saying I’ve been there and looking back, it instilled in me in particular a practice of searching daily. Whether it was for pot or Jesus, I continue to search daily and sometimes, I get lucky and find answers, other times, not so much. I am humbled. I am somedays helpless but I do not forget the lessons life has allowed me to live through. I do not forget the searching aspect of it. I do not condemn or condone this. That’s not up to me. It does help however to have firm limits and never exceed your own personal boundaries.
I know some out there are struggling with many things and I feel for you, I really do. I been there. I bought the t shirt and forgot where I put it. I hope you find your way to a better you as well. Peace.