My Ghosts Love WEED~!
Shamans have said for thousands of years that the use of sacred plants frees the soul of corporeal confinement, facilitates access to alternative realities, and allows communications to the spiritual worlds.
Well I'm here to tell ya, fellow space traveler, that those medicine men knew what they were talkin. And I can only talk about the sacred plant cannabis/hemp, the great Shamans were probably referring to the more hallucinatory brands of sacred plants, as you'll see in the video that follows, plants like cacti, mushrooms, or 'schrooms' as their called, or tree bark, or maybe licking a toad or two here and there, I don't know, all I can attest to is cannabis. And that our friendly neighborhood ghosts seem to love it, at least my ghosts do.
“When you smoke the herb, it reveals you to yourself.” -Bob Marley
Until my 'self discovery lesson #420,' I've always took my feelings of paranoia to be from the illegality of where I partook of the sacrament. For years and years it was like this. It just came with the high, like a by-product or side-effect. But then I went to British Columbia one summer. Sitting there smoking with other people in Marc Emery's famous head shop, crying, by the way, because I couldn't handle the sudden freedom to smoke in public, I still felt the paranoid. And when I was back at the Hotel room, whoa, it really hit me hard. So I figured it had to be something else, because I had no fear of getting busted here. For pity sakes, cops drove by me scoring at an intersection, out in the open in broad daylight, no less. The cop even smiled at me when my head jerked a look at him, before he drove away. He knew I was a tourist. No I didn't have a fear of getting busted in Canada, it was the first place in my life that I felt like a human, instead of a criminal for what I happen to ingest. That feeling was coming from somewhere else, I didn't know.
Not one to panic, I sat in my hotel room and quieted myself and got into my breathing. After awhile of meditation I calmed down some, but I still felt like I wasn't alone in my room. I knew there was another presence there with me. Somebody, something was there. I couldn't hear breathing or the floor didn't creek or anything like what happens in the movies, but I knew it. So I just spoke up and said, "hey it's cool if there's a ghost here I don't mind, just be easy on this dude, K! Don't scare me to death or make me shit my pants."
Soon after I said that I felt a chill, and then I remember the feeling as if somebody pulled a huge spiderweb off my body. The paranoia was gone. Then, behind my eyelids, my Aunt Connie smiled and handed me a joint, like she did at a John Denver concert. She was dead for only two years then. Seeing her was upsetting and I lost concentration. I told her I was sorry I didn't get cannabis oil to her fast enough to kill the cancer. She told me, "don't worry about it, just live on, Bobby. I said, "OK, love you Aunty." And that was it. I still hear her say. "live on. Bobby."
Connie just wanted to tell me to chill and stop with the regrets. It was her who was with me, around me, making me feel paranoid. And I think Cannabis made it easier for her to come into contact with me, for her to get closer to me. I think pot broke the proverbial ice and smoothed the edges. And though my feelings were true, they were just misinterpreted. My feelings of paranoia were not so much that someone, something was after me or going to get me, it was because someone, something is already here but just waiting for me to be receptive. Connie, or rather her spirit, was trying to 'set me straight' as it were. And that was the last time I felt paranoid, that is until my best fur-faced friend Bentley, died.
While I was writing, 'Dogs have Spirits' the paranoia around me was so thick I felt like I needed a chainsaw to get through it. Then I remembered what happened in 'BC' several years prior, and knew the reason why. Bentley's spirit must be here! I felt excided and wanted to connect with him. I stopped writing, not that is was going smooth, Bentley was only dead a few weeks, and I sat down and started to breath deep, anxious to 'see' Bentley again. But all I did was just sit and cry. My sobs were interfering with the smooth flow of my breathing. My head was full of the images of his last minutes with me. The last time he looked at me. How he smelled and how my face felt burred in his neck of fur. These things were not conducive to a nice 'trip' or rather, a 'visit' with my fur-faced friend. And like me. I thought, I'm not use to living now without him being here in the flesh, either is he use to this. That's why he's still hanging around. He needs my support, like he had in life.That's why I feel the paranoia again. He's here trying to make sense of this new world without me, just like I am. So I said to him, "come on best friend, lets go for a walk." And I said to him, "it'll be cool, Bentley, now you can shit wherever you want and nobody will notice!"
We left the paranoia behind that day, and I haven't felt it since then. But when I do I interpret it correctly as meaning that there's just a visitor here, instead of worrying that there's a psychopathic narko authoritarian prohibit-or lurking around eager to ruin my life with their dogma. Yes, I took my 'ghost dog' a walk.
Since Bentleys death I've noticed that dogs in the area are overly friendly with me. So friendly they will pull on their master's leash to try to get over to greet me. And this isn't a once and done thing, no no, every day I'm out walking my 'ghost dog' it happens. The owners have told me that their dog doesn't normally treat people like this, that aren't family members. Some neighbors thought I had some treats that I offered them. A few people when they see me now, or feel the tug of their leash, will just leave go of the leash so their dog can run over to me. And it isn't just a quick hello or just a lick, from these fur-faces before running back to their master, these dogs stay, lean up against my leg and lick me affectionately like I'm a long lost family member. And they aren't that eager to get back to their master either. They seem to want to hang-out with me for as long as possible.
So, I think Bentley's spirit is there with us, and with the THC in my system, seems to hold or adheres the connection more securely. Then yes indeed Cannabis is a gateway drug that helps bridge the gaps between the dimensions. And not only does it introduce you to yourself, as Bob Marley said, cannabis also introduces you to your ghosts, and opens that dialog. At least for me and my ghosts it does. My Ghost Love Cannabis !
Maybe your paranoia is simply a loved-one trying to connect with you? Please let me know how it works out. We're all in this together.