Smoked Up

A ‘Joint’ supposedly gets its name from the fact that a person generally never smokes one alone. There will always be people with you. Whether it’s your first time or you regularly get smoked up, the company you burn it with is what matters more than what you are burning. The ritual of crushing the weed (the seeds could make you impotent!), mixing with tobacco and then finally rolling it takes sacred overtures when done by the regulars. The small dingy smelly room to the first timer begins to look like the temple of a newfound religion where the priests take absolute care in performing their daily rituals and the outsider looks at them with wonder and tries to rationalize it with his knowledge of the world. “It’s all about faith”, someone tells you. You need to take a leap of faith, free yourself from the earthly teachings and do as the priests tell you to. And what a leap it is. It is as if with that leap you are free from the pull of all things materialistic, and you begin to float in an empty space of your own.

Slowly and gradually the smoke goes through your lungs and permeates your body filling you with an exuberance matched by none. The joy of merely being born in this world and in this time enters your consciousness and you float adrift surrounded by grey smog which colors everything around you in shades of ecstasy.

As the joint passes around and the light friendly banter turns into deep personal examinations into each other and everyone associated with anyone, you begin to realize the humor associated with every horror of life. As if everything that happens, happens with a preplanned irony and there is someone sitting on a big leather arm-chair laughing his guts out looking at the scenes that play out in everyday lives of normal people. Nature has its own ways of making everyone appreciate the lighter side of life.

With the vestiges of the last joint in your hand you look back upon the last hours’ events and conversation and the story of your entire life begins to run riot in front of your eyes. You close your eyes to shield your soul from the terrors of the past and havoc they caused in the mirror. With the last few dregs of smoke you inhale, you also take in all the things good, bad and ugly about life and collapse as if there is no tomorrow.


2 thoughts on “Smoked Up

  1. What a great ending to a solid article. At first I thought I was reading the history of the J, then it got really deep. I like your angle, can’t wait to read more stuff from this blog!


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