Outside In.

Got the phone. Does seem to make things easier. So now I have less of an excuse to delay getting words from here to there. From stuff on a page to stuff on a screen. There were things that carried on evolving, thoughts continued to think their way through. Stuff about stuff. It’s all sorts of here and there, all over the place, hunting it down like chasing butterflies. It might not all make it, the trip from there to here. Mom doesn’t do well in the cold. She’s been complaining a lot about her legs getting restless at night, makes it hard for her to get a good night’s sleep. She got some pills from the doctor that made her feel ill. She’s walking around looking all insecure and frail.

The next thing I know she’s talking about getting her hands on cannabis oil, something one of my sister’s discovered a source for. I took her to fetch it and asked the following day how it went; did she get around to trying it? Didn’t have the balls to apparently. Well. If I tried it and it went okay would that reduce her fear? Maybe. So I had the tiniest amount of it. Maybe the size of a grain of rice. Got stoned pretty quick. Stayed stoned until the next day. I told her if she takes some to aim for about the size of a large full stop. It’s a few days later and she still hasn’t tried it. I guess her discomfort isn’t as bad as she makes it out to be.

What I find infuriating is the lengths she will go to to try resolve this or that health issue. But put the cigarettes down? No. Nothing. That’s not going to happen. I still myself against feeling sorry for her. Wrong or right I struggle with feeling sorry for someone who’s pain is self-inflicted. If you don’t want to hurt then stop hurting yourself. What seems to be the problem? In the meantime I had an interesting experience. I don’t enjoy weed. I don’t enjoy getting stoned. It makes me feel out of sorts for a few days afterwards. Things can go south when I feel out of sorts, I mean go south relationship wise; B and I usually end up getting into it. Maybe it’s not the weed, might be the coffee I feel I need to get me out of my funk, get me back to feeling not stoned.

So at the moment there is an awareness of that being possible. And hoping to avoid it. And with a bit of luck not keeping at it with the coffee. We’ve been pretty good at avoiding coffee for long stretches at a time. Surprise surprise things have improved for us relationship wise. The weed experience was interesting but not something I want to repeat again anytime soon. It’s good enough that mom can see the stuff didn’t kill me even though I took quite a bit more than was recommended. I just hope she gets around to trying the stuff. Maybe it will dampen her enthusiasm to smoke so much. And slow down what at this point seems to be an inevitable prospect; a negative health outcome.

A negative health outcome of dire proportions.

It’s hard to describe what made the weed experience interesting. It sort of had to do with a few other things that have been going on recently and drawing a few parallels. Connecting dots. Some of it, maybe a lot of it, involves the tangent I’ve gone off on recently after the ‘shroom trip. During the trip I stumbled across a mantra we used way back when. At that point we were headed into high strange. It was actually a point in time that ‘shrooms first made an appearance in our lives. There were things going on at around that time that are starting to go on now once again. While I was high I got this feeling, an impression of a continuation. Sort of like picking up now something that had ended at some point before.

How things worked out shortly after our first encounter with ‘shrooms and Mantras and a couple of other interesting things was reality got all sorts of disrupted. Our lives got disrupted. It felt like an awful long time of being in the wilderness for us between then and now. During that time we had to park what we pursued. How we were pursuing it. We parked it understanding that it would take time for things to unfold that were put into motion back then. Or at least looking back that’s sort of the face that’s being put on it. And how things are looking now bare a striking resemblance to to how they looked shortly before the sh!t hit the fan.

Uncannily so.

The least it seems polite to do is acknowledge the coincidence. At the other end of the spectrum is to realize that something very big and very weird just happened. So I guess there was that. Something else had to do with me being touched by the energy of a Hindu god. I guess there are relations between Mantras and Hindu gods. I’d been listening to a talk about the symbolism of Ganesha, the symbolism of Aum. I guess there is also something going on between the Hindu Mystics and cannabis. I guess you could say maybe when you use a Mantra something might happen, you reach out to a Hindu god. And how the Hindu god reaches out back to you. How that manifests in physical reality takes the form of a chemical in cannabis. And the effect of that experience alters your state of consciousness.

This is a bit of a hodge-podge of piecing it together.

It made a bit more sense at the time. It sort of does make sense now here. It just felt more convincing at the time, more believable, more real. That that is what happened. That what happened was because I’d been making an effort to reach out to a Hindu god a Hindu god had made an appearance and that’s why I got stoned so suddenly. That’s why it came out of the blue. That’s why I got struck by lightening. I got another idea involving dealing with external entities, spirits, energy. I guess Hindu gods fit in there somewhere as well. Remember that stuff I was saying I should interpret as representations of unfamiliar parts of me? That idea sort of warped and changed, developed. Involves using you, the real you, the you that’s deep down inside, to identify, to create, that intensely intimate personal experience I was talking about…


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