Sat Mar 23, 2024 11:33 pm by globalturbo
DEEPLY AWAKE - WEED
By amissvik - Posted on 02 November 2012
DEEPLY AWAKE – WEED
I think it's fascinating to watch judgments crumble.
It is one of the most thrilling
things in the world to feel the scales fall off my eyes, and something
that once just confounded me, or angered me, or filled me with
resentment or fear, how every now and then someone or something comes
along to right it, to make it straight and true, and in a blink of an
eye, I am in a clearer state, see things as part of the whole, smile a
little, relax a lot, and then the real thinking, not the crazy circular
thinking, can begin.
Such is the way with many things.
I think of the big judgments I have held, and it is often difficult to
pinpoint the faulty belief, the lie I am telling myself that is causing
distress. Unable to solve the koan, the outside, my reality, calls to
me, to solve a problem, to address an issue, to create once again
something that will have meaning to myself and to others. I externalize,
and I learn, and then it comes home, I integrate, I change, I move on
and address myself and others just a little differently then.
It is facile to say simply that
because I create my own reality, everything is at my beck and call. It
really matters on which ledge of the vibratory mountain one shouts that
from. I can say that from littlemind, and then, the world is full of
frustrating situations in which I am victim, being ground down by the
will of others, and I am creating it, and woe is me.
A little higher up, when I shout
that phrase, things are less hazy, more clear, but then I am struck by
the absolutely mind-blowing complexity of it all... it seems impossible
that I could be having a hand in creating all that I see. Everything is
mystery and everything is symbology. The coffee can is not a coffee can.
It is a symbol of my need for stimulation. It is empty. I should go
partying.
That sort of thing.
And then there is that moment,
putting away groceries, thinking about my landlord's broken promises,
re-arranging the fruit and the milk, making room for more supplies, and I
smile.
I step back.
I breathe very deeply and I know,
I just know, that all of it, the petroleum based shopping bags, the
organic milk, the GMO banana's, and me, now at the sink, dumping out old
moldy spaghetti sauce, that yes, this is all a matrix for
self-realization and self-love and self-discovery. This is pretty neat.
There is not one thing I need to fix at this moment. There is not one thing that disturbs my equilibrium.
The new food is not a reward from
the universe. It is food that I have manifested just because that is
how it works here. The hunger in my belly feels warm and good and points
me into another direction. That is good. The cats think they are
getting tuna, and they are wrong, and that is good.
I think it is about time for some
sort of guidebook to the states of open eyed consciousness, sort of
mapping out where I am during any given set of responses or reactions or
activities.
All I know is that I have done an outstanding job here.
I have been many things this
time, and have done my life in a way that has caused lookers-on distress
and anguish sometimes. I have lived without a net, always. I have been
the perpetual fool, stepping off the cliff, puppy nipping at my heels,
little knapsack on a pole resting on my shoulder, and one foot up, ready
for the next step, which will be met with a sheer drop-off into the
unknown.
Always with my eyes above, never
minding my feet, knowing I am carrying everything I need on my person,
just ready for the next adventure.
And these states of consciousness
that I can now access pretty much at will, these shiny thoughts which
allow my chest to expand and breathe more deeply, and which allow this
grin to emerge more and more readily, these states are pieces of living
art which I have spent a lifetime sculpting, exploring, defining and
hiding.
Yesterday, like unrelenting
dictation, roles kept being stated in my mind, as I sat down to write. I
really thought it would be a discourse on all the stuff I've thought
I've “been” this lifetime, but out popped “probably”. Here I am today,
the dictation not as forceful in that regard, but the words still come,
more of a monologue today, more of a thrum in the back of my head.
And it seems meaningless to write
down all the things I have “been”. However, it is very interesting to
me that as I survey it all, I am struck with how many actual lives it
appears I have lived within this one.
It is a curious thing, one that I
wold love feedback on, from people who have been paying attention to
themselves through their days. I am nearly 52 years old. I look back and
see how I have had such discretely different lives, roles,
expectations, needs, desires. How else can I describe it but that I have
lived many lives in this one?
To be quite honest, I will admit that even the apparent core of who I am has changed.
I would like to be able to sit
across the table from the one core person who spun off all these crazy
adventures. What does s/he FEEL like? What has been her/his main
overall, over arching theme, the passion, the drive, the impetus, and
what are the defining characteristics of that person?
There have been two times in my
life when I was really cooking with gas. I was happy, free, excited,
clear, and I kept a very tidy house. In fact, when in those states, I
was my thinnest, my most attractive, and my most social.
I was beautiful. I walked
everywhere, I didn't eat meat, I wasn't self-conscious, knew I was way
different but was ok with that, and found that I was surrounded by
people who loved me.
Once when I was in nursing school, and once when I was bridging into my 30's.
Each stretch of time, I
encountered a very wise being within me. Someone who just didn't get
upset about much, but who, of course, had strong preferences. I was
deeply involved in comedy, wrote a lot, meditated religiously, was
physically active. I was less inclined to be afraid of other people. I
had good relationships, the second tide of goodness, in my
young-adulthood, I had a few profound sexual relationships, opened up to
myself in ways I had never allowed.
The veil then thickens, darkens,
the clouds come, and I spend years, literally years, in the dark.
Devolving. Turning small and at the same time enormous, letting my world
shrink, wishing I could just go home and avoid all the pain.
When the lights came on in
January for me, one of the first scribbles I made was about how it was
as if, miraculously, my radio had just opened up the dial, and I could
hear things I did not know had existed, stuff I didn't think I'd ever
have access to. Nice big gong goes off when, a month later, I watch
Pleadian Wake Up Call, where Barb Marcianak states very simply that we
humans have had the radio set to one area of the dial for a long long
time.
It is so nice to once again be inhabiting my spirit in a more literal way.
I think that one of my themes has
been personal power, how amazingly easy it has been for me to withhold
it from myself, and the pain this behavior causes. Feeling so utterly
powerless to effect or change anything in my reality, really non-plussed
and flummoxed by the whole thing. And the spectators, they are more
than happy to tell me just how I should be doing things so that I will
be happier and less of a loser. And I do those things, and they lead me
further afield.
And here I am, at nearly-52,
happy once again, cooking with gas again, feeling part of the all, and
knowing I am part of the all, and that I matter and I am essential, and I
have a bad case of amnesia, that's all. Just some amnesia. And it is
lifting.
I lost The Teachers in the
1990's, they ascended and left me here stranded. A much more difficult
separation than the ones I have felt after losing my friends, family, in
death. An ongoing grief, because I was grieving having lost myself. I
lost my advisers, the ones who would tell me to simplify that thought,
amplify that one, now, don't you feel better, and I always did. They
helped me to flip reality on its head, to come to terms with the why of
it all.
But coming back form the depths I assigned myself for the twenty years of the Teachers' absence, that's been a blast.
And I have something now that I
did not have before, not when I was a student nurse, or a young pretty
adult, or even when I was being trained and schooled by The Teachers.
Now, finally, once and for all, I have enough experience, enough
self-possession, enough common sense, to always find my way home now.
It is not true that I ever left
home, but I thought that I had, and I made sure to douse all the lights
and to tape down the light switches so that when I went looking around
for some light, I was completely frustrated.
When I began to wake up in
January, what accompanied the aha moments was a deep dark fear that this
could be taken away from me again. That for all the light and
understanding I am opening myself up to, things can and probably will go
dark again.
Such a mourning to feel with such joy.
Being switched off, deactivated, flat and sad and victimized, that's always been the hardest.
And now I understand that the
reason it is so hard, the reason it feels like the torture it really and
truly is, is because that is when I am doing my damnedest to stop a
natural process. I am damming up light, ignoring the obvious, refusing
to encounter my soul in this moment, and this one, and this one.
I did it for a reason, and it was
purposeful, and it was playful, really, but it was also very hard. And
now, in this decade, I finally know that this being with the all,
knowing I am just part of the whole fabric and have a place and am not
doing it wrong, this peace I can always get back to now.
It's no longer a secret I want to keep from myself.
I think that’s one reason these
little entries are helpful, because they are, longitudinally, creating a
very sturdy bridge over which I can cross the troubled waters, waters I
nearly drown in. It is my own way of setting out energetic breadcrumbs
to any future selves who choose to fall back asleep.
That's it.
I will no longer be asleep.
What an amazing idea.
I never have to fall back asleep.
Ever. And if I do, for whatever reason, I know now that this state of
joyful, blissful unity, is indeed available, is a breath, a thought, a
moment away.
And it's not my guides turning
off the lights. The Illuminati or dark cabal. It's not my fearful
spectators, and it's not the church and it's not fate. It's me.
I accept that I have a lot of
help, and I have not untaped the light switches without a concerted
effort from many many sources. I know I have always been divinely
guided, I know that to be an article of my faith. But to know, to really
comprehend, that I turned the lights out, and I consented to having
them turn back on, oh, my dear, my sweet dear, this is the grandest
lesson of all.
So, where does weed come into all of this? Why entitle a piece about an old drafty house with bad electrical wiring, “Weed?”
I think the judgments that people
have against marijuana are diagnostic. We have channeled entities
telling us to avoid all substances. We have lightworkers who denigrate
psychedelics. We have federal and state law enforcement agencies playing
twisted psychopath big brother. It is set up for judgments and all
sorts of light/dark differentials.
Marijuana, flower, weed, it is a
natural substance which allows the user to open to a higher fluidity of
thought. It allows, when used as the sacrament it is, for joy to infect
previously mundane and even sad experiences. It is an invisible happy
shield. It is a proclamation that one's thoughts are one's own, and
one's body may be used for all manner of miracles.
Addiction is a real thing, but so
is redemption, freedom and enlightenment. If I have found something
which is used not to deny reality, not to anesthetize self from reality,
but something which cooperatively expands reality, why would I not use
it? If I am sovereign, then I do not need to rely on any substance or
thing for relief or assistance, but isn't it nice that there are things
in this agreement field that do just that?
It is a lesson in detachment. All
around me are people who are more than happy to impose their beliefs
onto me, on many different subjects, this one included. But really it's
just a lot of old harpies harping. False threats, innuendo,
self-righteous judgments all.
Let people judge. I think that
availing oneself to all manner of tools is not unwise. Some will work
well, some will be disastrous, but who is to say what will work for you?
I think Catholicism is an unusual spiritual pursuit, but totally valid
for some. I think kirtan is the closest thing to heaven on earth, and
others would think it's just pathetically bad singing. Doesn't matter. I
go my way, you go yours.
For me, all marijuana is is a
short cut. I can do the work, go into meditation, really stretch, and I
do this, a lot, all the time. And then there is this short cut. Like
hypnosis is to the subconscious, marijuana is to the super-conscious.
It's a short cut. Simple.
If it doesn't work for someone,
it would be awesome if it would be expressed that way. “Oh, Yes, that's
nice, but I didn't find it useful.” Simple. But no, there is feedback
stating it should never be used, it is a cheater, it is bad for you,
blah blah blah.
And those who do use or
appreciate the psychedelic shortcuts on God's Green Earth, we hunker in
the corner, come out once a year to rave at Wild Man or wherever stoners
congretate.
Stoners don't typically mind critics. Whatevs.
Marijuana, it is true, can lead
to apathy, and that has been a hurdle. If I spend too long in the
ethers, my physical life becomes less and less compelling, looks more
like an imposition, feels more like a chore.
That's why, today, putting my
groceries away, stone cold sober, feeling like a god in blue jeans, just
very contented by my new can of coffee, I realized these shortcuts I
have used in the past have paid off.
I believe that state dependency
is a theory which doesn't extend quite far enough. The theory states
that when in an altered, chemically induced state, and learning from a
text, say, the recall is best achieved (testing) in the same state.
Which means, roughly, that if you study drunk, you should probably take
the test drunk.
In nursing school I adopted the
attitude, the belief, that every single thing that I am exposed to, both
physically and mentally/telepathically, is contained in my awareness,
and therefore tests are easy, because it just involves being open to the
possibility that I already know all the answers.
I aced nursing school. I got one of the highest NCLEX scores that year. I rocked that stuff.
It was that state, that open,
receptive, authoritative state, that I became dependent on, so to speak.
State dependency. And so, if you take that simple model and apply it
metaphysically, it is true that once your mind has been opened, whether
due to a pure hit of DMT, Blue Haze or magic shrooms, that door remains
unlocked, and it can be accessed again with a flexible and open mind.
Repeating the behavior to get to
that state, that is what becomes unnecessary. I carry those states
within me. I have been there many many many times, and now I can pop in
and out as I please, regardless of what I ingest.
I am a fool, a trusting soul who
does not listen to the admonitions of the puppy dogs nipping at my
heels. I am stepping off, every day, every moment, into nothingness, and
I smile as I consider that I am packing with me every single thing I
need to encounter what comes next.
And I have packed my weed.
Tags
Girlfriend...
Submitted by Browneyeslandgirl (unregistered) on Fri, 11/02/2012 - 22:15.
...you delight my Being to the core! Just
finished reading your post twice, laughing aloud throughout. Still am.
Sometimes I think we must have been parted at birth; lives so similar;
growth patterns near identical. 'Cept I turned 52 in June. You led me
out of the woe on Tuesday. I've been much better since, riding the wave.
Thank you. Thank me.
Let go of the weed a month ago, concerned with my vibe. It was a good
decision for me. Yet, I voted this week to legalize pot in my state,
and I support my nephew's clinic in his state. Free will. Respect.
Compassion. Dignity. And let's be done with feeding the prison
industrial complex.
I haven't missed a day in the past several weeks looking up your
blog. Disappointed when you take a break. I forgive you. I truly hope
that I have the opportunity to meet up with you someday. Perhaps a wake
and bake. But then again, by then we'll be high all of the time. Come to
think of it, aren't we now?
Oh, and BTW, I now deem myself worthy to be gifted with a visit by
our star family as well. I could swear I saw a cloud ship the other day.
Looking up!
Thanks to: http://soundofheart.org
By amissvik - Posted on 02 November 2012
DEEPLY AWAKE – WEED
I think it's fascinating to watch judgments crumble.
It is one of the most thrilling
things in the world to feel the scales fall off my eyes, and something
that once just confounded me, or angered me, or filled me with
resentment or fear, how every now and then someone or something comes
along to right it, to make it straight and true, and in a blink of an
eye, I am in a clearer state, see things as part of the whole, smile a
little, relax a lot, and then the real thinking, not the crazy circular
thinking, can begin.
Such is the way with many things.
I think of the big judgments I have held, and it is often difficult to
pinpoint the faulty belief, the lie I am telling myself that is causing
distress. Unable to solve the koan, the outside, my reality, calls to
me, to solve a problem, to address an issue, to create once again
something that will have meaning to myself and to others. I externalize,
and I learn, and then it comes home, I integrate, I change, I move on
and address myself and others just a little differently then.
It is facile to say simply that
because I create my own reality, everything is at my beck and call. It
really matters on which ledge of the vibratory mountain one shouts that
from. I can say that from littlemind, and then, the world is full of
frustrating situations in which I am victim, being ground down by the
will of others, and I am creating it, and woe is me.
A little higher up, when I shout
that phrase, things are less hazy, more clear, but then I am struck by
the absolutely mind-blowing complexity of it all... it seems impossible
that I could be having a hand in creating all that I see. Everything is
mystery and everything is symbology. The coffee can is not a coffee can.
It is a symbol of my need for stimulation. It is empty. I should go
partying.
That sort of thing.
And then there is that moment,
putting away groceries, thinking about my landlord's broken promises,
re-arranging the fruit and the milk, making room for more supplies, and I
smile.
I step back.
I breathe very deeply and I know,
I just know, that all of it, the petroleum based shopping bags, the
organic milk, the GMO banana's, and me, now at the sink, dumping out old
moldy spaghetti sauce, that yes, this is all a matrix for
self-realization and self-love and self-discovery. This is pretty neat.
There is not one thing I need to fix at this moment. There is not one thing that disturbs my equilibrium.
The new food is not a reward from
the universe. It is food that I have manifested just because that is
how it works here. The hunger in my belly feels warm and good and points
me into another direction. That is good. The cats think they are
getting tuna, and they are wrong, and that is good.
I think it is about time for some
sort of guidebook to the states of open eyed consciousness, sort of
mapping out where I am during any given set of responses or reactions or
activities.
All I know is that I have done an outstanding job here.
I have been many things this
time, and have done my life in a way that has caused lookers-on distress
and anguish sometimes. I have lived without a net, always. I have been
the perpetual fool, stepping off the cliff, puppy nipping at my heels,
little knapsack on a pole resting on my shoulder, and one foot up, ready
for the next step, which will be met with a sheer drop-off into the
unknown.
Always with my eyes above, never
minding my feet, knowing I am carrying everything I need on my person,
just ready for the next adventure.
And these states of consciousness
that I can now access pretty much at will, these shiny thoughts which
allow my chest to expand and breathe more deeply, and which allow this
grin to emerge more and more readily, these states are pieces of living
art which I have spent a lifetime sculpting, exploring, defining and
hiding.
Yesterday, like unrelenting
dictation, roles kept being stated in my mind, as I sat down to write. I
really thought it would be a discourse on all the stuff I've thought
I've “been” this lifetime, but out popped “probably”. Here I am today,
the dictation not as forceful in that regard, but the words still come,
more of a monologue today, more of a thrum in the back of my head.
And it seems meaningless to write
down all the things I have “been”. However, it is very interesting to
me that as I survey it all, I am struck with how many actual lives it
appears I have lived within this one.
It is a curious thing, one that I
wold love feedback on, from people who have been paying attention to
themselves through their days. I am nearly 52 years old. I look back and
see how I have had such discretely different lives, roles,
expectations, needs, desires. How else can I describe it but that I have
lived many lives in this one?
To be quite honest, I will admit that even the apparent core of who I am has changed.
I would like to be able to sit
across the table from the one core person who spun off all these crazy
adventures. What does s/he FEEL like? What has been her/his main
overall, over arching theme, the passion, the drive, the impetus, and
what are the defining characteristics of that person?
There have been two times in my
life when I was really cooking with gas. I was happy, free, excited,
clear, and I kept a very tidy house. In fact, when in those states, I
was my thinnest, my most attractive, and my most social.
I was beautiful. I walked
everywhere, I didn't eat meat, I wasn't self-conscious, knew I was way
different but was ok with that, and found that I was surrounded by
people who loved me.
Once when I was in nursing school, and once when I was bridging into my 30's.
Each stretch of time, I
encountered a very wise being within me. Someone who just didn't get
upset about much, but who, of course, had strong preferences. I was
deeply involved in comedy, wrote a lot, meditated religiously, was
physically active. I was less inclined to be afraid of other people. I
had good relationships, the second tide of goodness, in my
young-adulthood, I had a few profound sexual relationships, opened up to
myself in ways I had never allowed.
The veil then thickens, darkens,
the clouds come, and I spend years, literally years, in the dark.
Devolving. Turning small and at the same time enormous, letting my world
shrink, wishing I could just go home and avoid all the pain.
When the lights came on in
January for me, one of the first scribbles I made was about how it was
as if, miraculously, my radio had just opened up the dial, and I could
hear things I did not know had existed, stuff I didn't think I'd ever
have access to. Nice big gong goes off when, a month later, I watch
Pleadian Wake Up Call, where Barb Marcianak states very simply that we
humans have had the radio set to one area of the dial for a long long
time.
It is so nice to once again be inhabiting my spirit in a more literal way.
I think that one of my themes has
been personal power, how amazingly easy it has been for me to withhold
it from myself, and the pain this behavior causes. Feeling so utterly
powerless to effect or change anything in my reality, really non-plussed
and flummoxed by the whole thing. And the spectators, they are more
than happy to tell me just how I should be doing things so that I will
be happier and less of a loser. And I do those things, and they lead me
further afield.
And here I am, at nearly-52,
happy once again, cooking with gas again, feeling part of the all, and
knowing I am part of the all, and that I matter and I am essential, and I
have a bad case of amnesia, that's all. Just some amnesia. And it is
lifting.
I lost The Teachers in the
1990's, they ascended and left me here stranded. A much more difficult
separation than the ones I have felt after losing my friends, family, in
death. An ongoing grief, because I was grieving having lost myself. I
lost my advisers, the ones who would tell me to simplify that thought,
amplify that one, now, don't you feel better, and I always did. They
helped me to flip reality on its head, to come to terms with the why of
it all.
But coming back form the depths I assigned myself for the twenty years of the Teachers' absence, that's been a blast.
And I have something now that I
did not have before, not when I was a student nurse, or a young pretty
adult, or even when I was being trained and schooled by The Teachers.
Now, finally, once and for all, I have enough experience, enough
self-possession, enough common sense, to always find my way home now.
It is not true that I ever left
home, but I thought that I had, and I made sure to douse all the lights
and to tape down the light switches so that when I went looking around
for some light, I was completely frustrated.
When I began to wake up in
January, what accompanied the aha moments was a deep dark fear that this
could be taken away from me again. That for all the light and
understanding I am opening myself up to, things can and probably will go
dark again.
Such a mourning to feel with such joy.
Being switched off, deactivated, flat and sad and victimized, that's always been the hardest.
And now I understand that the
reason it is so hard, the reason it feels like the torture it really and
truly is, is because that is when I am doing my damnedest to stop a
natural process. I am damming up light, ignoring the obvious, refusing
to encounter my soul in this moment, and this one, and this one.
I did it for a reason, and it was
purposeful, and it was playful, really, but it was also very hard. And
now, in this decade, I finally know that this being with the all,
knowing I am just part of the whole fabric and have a place and am not
doing it wrong, this peace I can always get back to now.
It's no longer a secret I want to keep from myself.
I think that’s one reason these
little entries are helpful, because they are, longitudinally, creating a
very sturdy bridge over which I can cross the troubled waters, waters I
nearly drown in. It is my own way of setting out energetic breadcrumbs
to any future selves who choose to fall back asleep.
That's it.
I will no longer be asleep.
What an amazing idea.
I never have to fall back asleep.
Ever. And if I do, for whatever reason, I know now that this state of
joyful, blissful unity, is indeed available, is a breath, a thought, a
moment away.
And it's not my guides turning
off the lights. The Illuminati or dark cabal. It's not my fearful
spectators, and it's not the church and it's not fate. It's me.
I accept that I have a lot of
help, and I have not untaped the light switches without a concerted
effort from many many sources. I know I have always been divinely
guided, I know that to be an article of my faith. But to know, to really
comprehend, that I turned the lights out, and I consented to having
them turn back on, oh, my dear, my sweet dear, this is the grandest
lesson of all.
So, where does weed come into all of this? Why entitle a piece about an old drafty house with bad electrical wiring, “Weed?”
I think the judgments that people
have against marijuana are diagnostic. We have channeled entities
telling us to avoid all substances. We have lightworkers who denigrate
psychedelics. We have federal and state law enforcement agencies playing
twisted psychopath big brother. It is set up for judgments and all
sorts of light/dark differentials.
Marijuana, flower, weed, it is a
natural substance which allows the user to open to a higher fluidity of
thought. It allows, when used as the sacrament it is, for joy to infect
previously mundane and even sad experiences. It is an invisible happy
shield. It is a proclamation that one's thoughts are one's own, and
one's body may be used for all manner of miracles.
Addiction is a real thing, but so
is redemption, freedom and enlightenment. If I have found something
which is used not to deny reality, not to anesthetize self from reality,
but something which cooperatively expands reality, why would I not use
it? If I am sovereign, then I do not need to rely on any substance or
thing for relief or assistance, but isn't it nice that there are things
in this agreement field that do just that?
It is a lesson in detachment. All
around me are people who are more than happy to impose their beliefs
onto me, on many different subjects, this one included. But really it's
just a lot of old harpies harping. False threats, innuendo,
self-righteous judgments all.
Let people judge. I think that
availing oneself to all manner of tools is not unwise. Some will work
well, some will be disastrous, but who is to say what will work for you?
I think Catholicism is an unusual spiritual pursuit, but totally valid
for some. I think kirtan is the closest thing to heaven on earth, and
others would think it's just pathetically bad singing. Doesn't matter. I
go my way, you go yours.
For me, all marijuana is is a
short cut. I can do the work, go into meditation, really stretch, and I
do this, a lot, all the time. And then there is this short cut. Like
hypnosis is to the subconscious, marijuana is to the super-conscious.
It's a short cut. Simple.
If it doesn't work for someone,
it would be awesome if it would be expressed that way. “Oh, Yes, that's
nice, but I didn't find it useful.” Simple. But no, there is feedback
stating it should never be used, it is a cheater, it is bad for you,
blah blah blah.
And those who do use or
appreciate the psychedelic shortcuts on God's Green Earth, we hunker in
the corner, come out once a year to rave at Wild Man or wherever stoners
congretate.
Stoners don't typically mind critics. Whatevs.
Marijuana, it is true, can lead
to apathy, and that has been a hurdle. If I spend too long in the
ethers, my physical life becomes less and less compelling, looks more
like an imposition, feels more like a chore.
That's why, today, putting my
groceries away, stone cold sober, feeling like a god in blue jeans, just
very contented by my new can of coffee, I realized these shortcuts I
have used in the past have paid off.
I believe that state dependency
is a theory which doesn't extend quite far enough. The theory states
that when in an altered, chemically induced state, and learning from a
text, say, the recall is best achieved (testing) in the same state.
Which means, roughly, that if you study drunk, you should probably take
the test drunk.
In nursing school I adopted the
attitude, the belief, that every single thing that I am exposed to, both
physically and mentally/telepathically, is contained in my awareness,
and therefore tests are easy, because it just involves being open to the
possibility that I already know all the answers.
I aced nursing school. I got one of the highest NCLEX scores that year. I rocked that stuff.
It was that state, that open,
receptive, authoritative state, that I became dependent on, so to speak.
State dependency. And so, if you take that simple model and apply it
metaphysically, it is true that once your mind has been opened, whether
due to a pure hit of DMT, Blue Haze or magic shrooms, that door remains
unlocked, and it can be accessed again with a flexible and open mind.
Repeating the behavior to get to
that state, that is what becomes unnecessary. I carry those states
within me. I have been there many many many times, and now I can pop in
and out as I please, regardless of what I ingest.
I am a fool, a trusting soul who
does not listen to the admonitions of the puppy dogs nipping at my
heels. I am stepping off, every day, every moment, into nothingness, and
I smile as I consider that I am packing with me every single thing I
need to encounter what comes next.
And I have packed my weed.
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Girlfriend...
Submitted by Browneyeslandgirl (unregistered) on Fri, 11/02/2012 - 22:15.
...you delight my Being to the core! Just
finished reading your post twice, laughing aloud throughout. Still am.
Sometimes I think we must have been parted at birth; lives so similar;
growth patterns near identical. 'Cept I turned 52 in June. You led me
out of the woe on Tuesday. I've been much better since, riding the wave.
Thank you. Thank me.
Let go of the weed a month ago, concerned with my vibe. It was a good
decision for me. Yet, I voted this week to legalize pot in my state,
and I support my nephew's clinic in his state. Free will. Respect.
Compassion. Dignity. And let's be done with feeding the prison
industrial complex.
I haven't missed a day in the past several weeks looking up your
blog. Disappointed when you take a break. I forgive you. I truly hope
that I have the opportunity to meet up with you someday. Perhaps a wake
and bake. But then again, by then we'll be high all of the time. Come to
think of it, aren't we now?
Oh, and BTW, I now deem myself worthy to be gifted with a visit by
our star family as well. I could swear I saw a cloud ship the other day.
Looking up!
Thanks to: http://soundofheart.org
