I have smoked or altered my mental state since I was 21. My first grass high was pure paranoia as I was not with friends. The TV looked thirty feet away yet its picture was HD clear in 1966. The party people mumbled about overdose. Because I was going to die on this ski trip, I called my husband and our baby girl to say goodbye.
Surprising that I would try it again. It has been the measuring stick of my stability. A shrink once told me that when he hears that a patient smokes marijuana it is a red flag that s/he is manic depressive–newly re-coined pi-polar to make it sound medical instead of spiritual. There are years and months I put it down wanting to stay level, not wanting to crash out of a mania, a plane breaking the sound barrier, and then hit a mountain.
Candy from Colorado has picked me up quite suddenly. I need to come to ground with the word. And the word of the day is stability. The word is breathe. Fontella Bass, rest her soul, is singing to me, “Jesus the Light of the World.”
Om Shalom Insh’Allah