Shoot, man, I got to fly in some kind of cosmic dragon, go up in a neat silver UFO, visit Venus and only cause
minor havoc for the astral police there ... as well as watch the tears of Bodhisattvas falling through space from world to world. And the whole time, I was walking around in a
`beautiful blue Dharma suit!' Or at least, the pajamas on the hospital ward were light BLUE.
Let me tell you, grass or what-have-you, I'd venture a WAG that it was
PCP that led to all that ... but don't ask me what was REALLY going on, I prefer the delusions.
On the other hand, I've been sh*tfaced drunk enough to know what a "demon" is ... you know, encounter my own personal satan firsthand. I learned that he can drive a car very fast, and elude mutliple police occifers at once. Trying to run them down? Bad, very bad.
As for the trippin-outta-my-skull
flyin' eyeball zonked on LSD kind of experiences, I confirmed during some of those:
- that there is a God
- that we're all "connected"
- more than that, that we're all really `one'
- that I was a knight, pre- all that jousting crap
- that the Floyd were mostdef some tripped out dudes, and that Live at Pompeii really rocks
- that Metallica, death metal, hate metal, thrash metal, and all that other bullsh*t that we listened to back then - ain't so cool after all
I probably missed the whole part about being haunted for most of my life by the shell of an incarnation that ended overseas with a bullet fired by the VC ... but LSD only cast that in a bit more (or different) light. I'd been dealing with that for most of my life anyway. But quite possibly, dosing that half sheet
did help a bit in realizing what my responsibility was
this time around, relative to some of these prior incarnations.
So, LSD, yeah sure. I have always been scared sh*tless of coke, crack, smack, whack, jack, whatever.
Don't stick them needles in yer arm ... just a fool, just a fool ...
Now as for whatever the hell that grass was laced with, PCP or you-name-it, maybe just a bad hair day behind the scenes,
that was a solid month (1995) during which I was checked out of reality. And for the diehard "it's all in your brain-ists" out there,
you go figure. I have memories of that month, very much so more vivid and "real" than most of the rest of my life. I conversed, often enough, with beings who were either
not there physically, or who
were there, but appeared to me quite different than was likely the "reality." If I've ever
hallucinated, it was
then.
One more thing. Possession -
it happens. No fun. Not when you aren't the one in control any more. Thorazine might calm you down, but it doesn't exactly
set you right. Other medications, same deal. I suspect that if most of us knew a
fraction of the reality behind brain chemistry and the
superphysical mechanism involved, we'd run from drugs screaming bloody murder.
Watching
`What the Bleep Do We Know?' is good for starters. But wrecking one's chakras, polluting the aura, risking permanent damage to the pineal and pituitary? Bah -
child's play. Those are unfortunate, but relatively minor side effects. The esotericist knows that
everything you are, we are, anyone is - physically, astrally and mentally - is "stored" in a
single atom, per respective plane. An electron, then a particle
thousands of times smaller than a quark ... and one that is as a speck beyond our wildest imaginings.
Yet to a Master, these are as weighty boulders
, perhaps the smooth and polished stones over which flow the crystal clear waters of the Bubbling Brook, the Stream - "Let your living waters flow." Ahhhh .....
How many angels is it again, can dance on the head of a pin? No one will believe me when I keep saying -
all of them.
God particles and Galapagos ... we don't
need drugs, but they're there - and a for a reason. There are horror stories, and miraculous, magical transformations. I'd rather glorify
drugs than
war, but I'd hate to have to
justify either. Force me to CHOOSE one of these evils to have to curse humanity with, I
think I know my choice. But I could never be certain ...
The VC shot the marine, because he was shooting at
them, of course. No problem. But he was there, because the US gov't wasn't happy with his means of livelihood. Plea bargaining, mandatory tour of duty,
beats jail time, right? I don't know, did it?
Now another layer. One incarnates for a purpose. If one's vehicles (bodies, psychology, mind) become too polluted, too unusable for the soul, and the
life's purpose gets too far out of focus, the train starts to derail. One can only learn from so much disaster. Many, many lives - end in
`abortion.' And so it was.
Hi, folks. Nice to be back.
Deja vu ... If I had ever been here before I would probably know just how to deal, with all of you ...
Who do you want to hear say it? Tell it.
Confirm it. If you toot the horn, talk about drugs,
then LISTEN to the Wisdom they have to speak. But be careful of the Prophet. As Thomas once pointed out, the
Man on the Silver Mountain speaks with a slivery tongue, but he may not tell the
whole truth, or his truth may be slightly
different ... I guess I prefer Paul's
Fool on the Hill. What!?! Same fellow???
Balderdash!
I do not credit drugs with showing me most of the insight into
`last time around.' But I
do believe they were the practical manifestation of an unresolved, and dark, karma. They do not always pull every soul,
so far down in to the mire. Others, they
pull under. But they
sully the feet of EVERY person that uses them,
spiritually speaking. It adds to our burden, the
cleansing that we must all do as souls, as we make our way to
Enlightenment, or
Redemption.
It's contextual. I'm not a shaman, just because I can put on some trip-hop music and burn incense while I smoke my ganja. Writing down the
Liber Goofaloojis while I'm stoned
isn't gonna change that,
either. But if I was a medicine man, as may have been the case several thousand years ago, then perhaps the peace pipe WAS a spiritual too -
and a very useful one, overall. The kid in the alleyway, shooting up and watching the colors run ... well, he's in the mire. It's one planet,
it's our collective ooze, no matter what we like to call it, or how
icky it may seem when tracked in on
other people's feet.
Brian, I really enjoyed some of the videos from your link. Check out the dude Ali G, and his tips for scoring
primo quality stuff, right dosages, etc. I laughed my balls off. The Jamaican tour guide, now WOW. He was funny,
kind of, but if that was real - I was starting to
cringe in expectation of his next laugh. I guess that's part of why they call it
"the chronic." Rastaman Bob, on the other hand, he seemed okay, eh?
Speaking of Bob,
Jay and Silent Bob, now those are some funny dudes. Having said my peace, I mean piece, I wish we could put THEM in the drivers seat, get
all the hippies and stoners and trippers, into the White House, into Parliament,
for just a few short decades - I mean
years ... oh you know, long enough to sort things out and get the world back on track. When we've mellowed out, stopped kiling each other, decided that
togetherness is really what it's all about, and accepted that
Loving one's Mother Earth ain't so bad after all ... THEN the leavening. THEN get Bono in there. We'd
really need him by then, I should think.
Laterzzzz,
andrew (lightbearer)
