Yesterday I wrote about my ongoing addiction to weed, and the different ways I’ve tried to manage it throughout the years. Early in my teenage years, I started smoking weed daily, and what I really enjoyed the most about it was how much it amplified my inner life, my thoughts as well as my feelings, my innermost desires and motivations; it really inspired me and made me look at life through a deeper lens. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bring paranoia and anxiety into the mix as well, but that was mostly because my parents didn’t approve at all of my new interest, and as very conservative Christians, they were not about to change their minds on the subject any time soon, especially coming from an impoverished country in Central America, where drugs are heavily associated with gangs and crime, and rightly so. As a teenager, living in Canada, who just wanted to do exactly what I wanted, when I wanted, it was really annoying to me that I couldn’t smoke at home, that I had to go outside for hours at a time just to get high and to listen to some music in peace, without anyone bothering me. It wasn’t until many years later that I realized just how much I actually enjoyed all those times, and how the fact that it was a secret, that I had to go outside and find a chill spot, that I would eventually end up walking all around the city and making connections between the roads and the different areas, between the forest trails and the city streets, would end up being so therapeutic for me, and a great blessing that would show me what exactly it is that I enjoy in this life and in this world, which I would say is true freedom and experience. It’s unfortunate that, after years of use, or even abuse, of the substance, weed no longer hits the same as it did back in those early days, even after a few weeks or even a month-long break. I remember getting baked and looking up at the sky during those days, or up at the trees to see the sun shining like gold on the leaves, just absolutely glowing with the divine beauty of life, something truly majestic, that had always been there, but that I had never truly noticed like I was noticing it now, now that I was high on weed. It’s a really nostalgic feeling, and the fact that it’s so hard to recreate really does give off an insidious vibe, like something that traps you with its magnificent allure, only to leave you feeling empty later on, finding yourself needing it, and realizing that you can never get it back, but continuing to try regardless. Considering this perspective, I understand why a lot of people might look at weed, and at all other drugs, in the same light, I really do, and the sad thing about it is that they might actually be right, I don’t really know. I don’t know if there is indeed something sinister about any drug in itself, and I don’t really think so, but it could very well be a possibility. To be honest, though, it just seems like human nature to me. We are always excited with any new thing, but over time, as the novelty fades away, we are no longer as inspired by it, and the magic starts to slowly fade. It could just be a case of that, but if we look at heavier and stronger drugs it becomes evident that this is not always the case, so is weed unique in that sense or is it just an evil drug like any other, something not worth wasting one’s time with? I’ll continue this topic tomorrow, and, as always, I appreciate you reading.
If you have a few minutes listen to my track ‘comfortably stoned.’ Thank you, it means a lot!
rebel eye 