trees1 I used to do acid once a year, when it was pure and I was open. It felt like kissing the face of God. It elevated me to such a fine place that I was truly one with everything. I never thought of it as a drug. I never approached it that way. For me, it was a point of communion. I took it seriously.

I remember walking in the evening rain in Cambridge. I was barefoot. The rain washed against my face like a lover’s touch. My feet splashed through puddles with the exuberant joy of a ten year old. I had never felt so alive, so present, or so much in the company of all that was divine.

My life had edges around it, but acid removed those.  I  wore my insides on the outside. I was cradled and safe, and led into new awareness’s that beckoned like rainbow colored bubbles, each one their own universe and surprise.

Acid was pure then. I stopped using it when it became laced with less friendly substances. I also stopped because I read that it was the fast track to the face of God, but the visit would be short.  If I really wanted to stay, maybe even set up shop or live there, then I had to learn to meditate. I had to earn my residency.

I have never duplicated those moments, but I remember them tenderly as a place of perspective, enlightenment and grace.

I never tried heroin. My life hung by such a gossamer thread, that I knew it would take me permanently out of this reality, if I opened the door, even a little.

I had a client a few years ago, who was a gifted violinist with the symphony. I tried to help him, to love him, and to hold him here, but heroin held his other hand, and pulled with more weight than I could manage. His death was a sad waste of genius.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s