I started when I was eighteen. I think that part is a great factor
on why I didn’t end up a junkie (although, to be honest with you, I really
wouldn’t mind having turned into one—my only worry would have simply been where
and when to get my next high, or how for that matter). Because I’ve had had
some time with the world as it is, let’s just say, I was already grounded
before I started taking my flights. It’s both a bad and a good thing. Good, in
that I could always return to the default me; bad, because I can never
completely let go (but there were rare moments when I did get a glimpse of
total surrender; it was bliss, at worst).
Let’s start. The
keyword here is “heightened senses.” That means, you don’t get superpowers, you
don’t instantly become a better version of yourself; although, you might start
to “think” that you have and you do. That’s okay, if only for the mere
realization of your “self” and your first experience of going through the
process of dismembering yourself from society even if only temporarily (some
people experience this by other means, thus those rare sober individuals who
still exhibit nonconforming behaviors). Back to the senses, your perception of
things change—sounds, sights, smells, tastes, and feels. But it’s still you,
and it’s still your mind.
Personally, I’ve known the feeling of really wanting to know how other people perceive me. I have this unhealthy need to please everyone. If you long to reach that divine state where you have “unconditional love for all,” sometimes your human side would seek to be unconditionally loved by all also. When I begin getting thoughts on how I might be perceived by others, I find my peace when I let go of trying to manipulate their views of me, acting out what I know would accomplish applauds. Let them see me as I see myself. For anyways, one of the more crucial moments in our lives are those time we spend with but ourselves judging us, and the voices of other people either praising or criticizing really don’t amount to much anymore.
Back to the lighter side of stoning, the laziness part is only half true. We still move a lot, although, yes, sometimes it’s already after being in a vegetative state of unsleep. What we do while in that state, it differs for us. For me, it’s like dreaming, only awake. I let my thoughts run free, not of my willing. Sometimes, I see beautiful things, and sometimes, I get nightmares. Then when I have the thoughts that I need, I take a more active role, and I mix them all up here and there until I come up with some form of logic, any form at all (whether sublime or mundane, universal or specific, eternal or momentary). It’s the awe that I’m after, regardless of the doses. It’s a lot like making love—it’s best when I reach my peak, however it happens and however long or short it lasts. And when I do, nothing in the world seems threatening anymore, even if not indefinitely.
It’s true what they say about food tasting better, but just a warning, you have to wait to feel the munchies (when you’re really craving), or else, you’ll have system overload. Prematurely, even just a slight taste of whatever it is you’re having would send your senses flaring, and it’ll be just too much for your enjoyment—well, unless you’re really the indulgent type.
Music does sound better, but not in an otherworldy way or anything. Nobody becomes a better singer or a better musician when she’s high. It’s just that there’s this isolated feel to the music, as though it is the only sound you’re hearing, and thus you’re able to thread through the layers and listen piece by piece until it seems that the music has intertwined with you in a very intricate pattern that it has already melded with every aspect of you. As though you’re a puppet attached to the strings of a guitar and you’re dancing on top of a large bass drum lying on its side. Boom, boom, boom, boom. And you’re feet gladly follows the rhythm.
And you begin to see the images at the back of your eyes. The puppet, the strings, the instruments, the dancing—and oh how you’d like for your eyes to see them as well. And you get your brushes and dare to recreate what you’re seeing with your amateur strokes. Earth colors for the guitar and the puppet, black and grays for the strings and the drum, and you let it all out with arrays of bright and dark hues intermingling together to portray the movement of your doll’s dancing.
[Deep sigh of relief]
I’ve reached my peak for now.