Tripping Down the Rabbit Hole

I let my head roll back. Weed has never been the same since falling down that psychedelic rabbit hole. Two inhales and I was seeing pulsating waves beneath my eyelids. Because of this I’ve drastically cut down on how frequently and how much I smoke. Tonight was an exception.

Then the revelations started. One of my favorite feelings induced by cannabis is the awe generated from what feels like novel and profound insights. Desperately as I may try to capture these revelations with words or voice recorder, the magic of the moment is never resurrected. The first insight was “I can see their psychologies.”

I’m a psych major so psychological verbiage saturates my linguistics. If I were this or that, I’d use words like soul, consciousness, or aura as a substitute for psychologies. What prompted the revelatory statement “I can see their psychologies” was my being overwhelmed by the visual stimuli that was the room and its occupants, which caused me to close my eyes and rest my head back on the couch.

Weed distorts time, and after an immeasurable amount of time, things became interesting. There is a phenomenon known amongst smoking groups. Once a particularly large amount of weed has been distributed and assimilated, there is a collective silence. Every person is experiencing flow, completely immersed in their own thoughts. The first person to break out of their blissful flow and become self aware sets the tone for the rest of the group. The way I perceive it, the secure member will see his fellow smokers in their individual universes, let them be, and return to his thoughts. The insecure member will become begin worrying if he looked stupid or whatever other negative thoughts infest his perception, and in this self doubt, will start looking at others to find something to mock or ridicule. Thus begun das giggles.

I, like most humans, have self-doubt, insecurities, and all those wonderful psychological angels. So normally, when the giggles begin and my flow is destroyed, my first self-aware thought is to assess my goofiness and correct it. Not tonight.

To make a long and more revealing than I care to reveal story shorter and less revealing, I was being mocked by a few of the members. It is admirable to be hurt by peoples mocking and to not allow it to show or impact you further. This was not the case. I was another level up. I knew exactly what was happening. I was completely aware of their intentions. And I was completely unmoved by it. I was actually enjoying it. I can’t recall another time in my life where I was so aware of another persons wish to belittle little me, and it have no affect. This was rather nice.

(Although, to be fair, the very fact I feel compelled to write this and proclaim so adamantly that it did not bother me may beg a question or two.)

So my friend and I left the gathering and drove home where I proceeded to politely cross some psychological boundaries I, now sober, think may have been too forcefully crossed.

Psychology is a weird field of study. I like it because I have a knack for it or at least I think I do. I may have more of a knack at arguing, and psychology being the soft science it is, may leave room for lazy would be lawyers.

This passion and aptitude for psychology also makes retrospective drugs so much more exhausting than I think these trips are for others. After the brief social gathering, ride home, midnight run, and hour in front of a mirror playing with ligaments, my mind was fucking drained.

I don’t think weed will ever be the same for me since last semester. I think this is good. I enjoy the drug and the perspective it brings. It’s a good place to visit rather than live.