Tuesday, April 20, 2010

420 the Adult Way, Days 109 and 110

It took me a while to realize what day it was. Friends I haven't talked to in a while hit me up to say let's hang and some friends just backed away from hanging out. Then a friend from high school posted on her facebook status that she was burning sage to smudge her house, the adult way to celebrate 420.

That simple comment made me reminisce about the past especially since I've been feeling a little trapped lately. I can't imagine my future too clearly, so all I have to focus on is the past. Plus with another friend from high school visiting me this weekend, I was already thinking of high school and what it was like, what I was like.

Weed was never my kind of drug. I don't enjoy slowing down my mind or calming down. I should, but I don't. As an obsessive compulsive, I find comfort in my demented over-thinking that distracts me from my thoughts and intense emotions. I've become attached to them. The idea of disconnecting with it is off putting. Plus I'm just so unpracticed at minimal brain activity that it nearly feels unnatural.

I do crazy stuff all the time, but it has to feel right. Even the smallest of mundane activities turn me off if it's not my thing like crossing the street on a red light. 420 is like the super bowl for me. It's when everyone has plans and has a blast, but it's like my National Anti-Social Holiday. And that's okay. I should just prepare for it better.

Since I forgot about what today was I didn't have anything planned, but I liked the idea of cleansing my apartment. I live with four other girls. One girl exploits her sexuality, is vacuous, and superficial. She apparently likes me because she considers me to be attractive, but I don't respect her. I believe that carrying such a discriminating perspective in life manifests energy that exploits vanity, and I don't want it polluting mine. My ex was here recently. A guy who was once my friend threatened me and has been stalking my roommate. Our last encounter was an unpleasant one where he barged into my place, and I live in the living room.

The living room welcomes any energy negative that circulates right outside of where I live. And let me tell you this place is contaminated! You have the "neighborly" hostility between the rockers and the quiet family, the wannabe rebel tweens that lead their chaotic lives, and the few untainted, reclusive individuals that harbor their own karma, and it might have floated into my space. Not to forget the soul sucker of this complex who religiously bangs and rings this unit to the beat of my pulsating headache.

So as you can see, smudging my living quarters is a magical idea! I did it rather unceremoniously by lighting my sage on the kitchen burner and just swirling it around until a thick white fog coated the air. While I was doing this I was thinking about how much more fulfilling this is and how empowering it is for me. Sage is meant to cleanse the air of negative qualities, negative qualities that burden us and enslave us of our past karma.

These things can trap a person's soul and keep it from moving forward. That can lead somewhere deeper into darkness or float around in stagnancy. Neither is good. Weed can have a stabilizing quality, but that can also lead to passivity and a person's hindrance. The kind of impact it has on a person varies on each individual based on their chemical reaction, as well as their emotional receptivity.

Having nothing to do with my drug preference, I don't want to feel still. I want to feel like I'm moving forward. "I'm not where I want to be. I'm not even where I should be. But thank God I'm not where I used to be." Spiritual cleansing is more my flavor.

Besides, my last experience left me unsettled. A trusted friend warned me against doing anything until I learn to control my power. My premonitions allow me to travel to other realities, but I'm grounded enough to know which reality I'm from and I always return. But when I'm high, those realities will bleed. And it has, he was right.

When my mind isn't compulsively fixated on something, it starts to wander to hidden desires. I started to think of him and I remembered what it was like to be with him, to feel the way I did. It all came rushing back to me, but I knew that wasn't the way things are anymore. He was gone. Things were different. He became so much a part of me and just like that, he vanished. All that's left is the memory of him. There's no trace or evidence that he was once here, with me.

How can such a brief presence have such a powerful effect? What is it about him that was so intoxicating and breathtaking? If he was that meaningful and the feelings were mutual, why was it so easy for him to leave me? Is it because I never really mattered to him? Is that why we were able to move on with our lives, as though we were untouched by each other? He was once there, and now he's gone. When we were together, it felt timeless. But now that it's over, it felt like it all ended in an instant, that our moment was too brief to be recorded, as though we never existed.

Two of us never came together. The two of us never came together. That idea haunted my mind as flashes of our past were floating around and muddling with the chaotic tangles of alternating realms, saturating reality with lies, possibilities, delusions, and fantasies. The memories are all I have of him. I want to preserve them, to cherish them. I don't want them to be used as tools to torment me. So for now I build from my past and work my way up to face it, little by little each day until I'm ready as premonitions whisper into my ears and tickle my soul.

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