First Trip in 40 Years
I started this series with
the Salvia event even though it happened over ten years ago. The sage
experience is what planted the seed that would grow into this collection of
post middle-age psychedelic adventures. My first acid trip was in August of
1968, and the last time I tripped out would have been sometime in the summer of
1976 or ‘77. Forty years is a long time to be away. But I was determined to get
reacquainted.
The first problem I
encountered when I decided to begin this adventure was getting my hands on some
LSD. It’s kind of hard to come by. But synchronicity always seems to come into
play when you start poking around metaphysical realms of any sort,
psychedelics included. I (finally) encountered an ethical and
trustworthy source, and got hold of some blotters and a gel tab. I didn't want
to risk getting in over my head (been there. No fun.) so I started out with a
modest dose. I did a crappy job of quartering one of the blotters, so I went
for the biggest one of the four, somewhere between 1/4 and 1/3 of a hit.
The event was our monthly
bike club ride. There’s about a dozen of us in the bicycle gang including my
wife and me, and we all ride on fat tire cruisers, antique Schwinns, stretch bikes
and custom choppers. We gather once a month to cruise the riverbed bike
path to the beach, and then up the coast for food, beer, and buzz. It’s an
all-day party. We had a parking lot potluck at our meet-up spot that morning.
Everyone was bringing food, coffee, beer, and of course, tons of weed.
I stopped to get cash and a soda on the drive
down. I came out of the 7/11, took the green plastic can out of my pocket and
popped it open. Such a tiny chip of blotter. My heart was pounding as I put it
on my tongue. Crunch. Swallow. Committed. Deep breath. I looked at the clock in the truck. 8:43.
Twenty minutes later we joined our friends.
After greeting everyone, and shooting the shit
a little I grabbed a sandwich and coffee, and sat in a folding chair, waiting. I
was a little nervous, and the food made me feel grounded. The coffee was hot
and strong, and the morning was cool and sweet. I checked the time. Almost
10:00. More coffee.
Suddenly I’m very
concerned about our bikes being all clean and shiny. I know I have a rag, but I can’t find it. I
borrow a rag, and start cleaning the wheels on my wife’s bicycle. Then I spot
the rag that I couldn’t find a minute ago. Get
to work on those wheels! Oh, wait. They’re not so bad. Oh. So then what? Oh. I
recognize this! Here we go. I could feel it coming on in waves of
excitement, and energy. Suddenly I’m all smiles walking around the parking lot
drinking coffee, and talking with my friends. I have the distinct feeling that
today is an event of some importance. The sense of apprehension has faded, and
the monthly ride has the quality of a holiday like your birthday, or Christmas.
But I hadn’t taken a wake n’ bake yet. I got
some stupid expensive private reserve sativa for just this occasion, and I was
waiting for just the right moment. Which arrived like- now. Before I knew it we
were locking up the cars, smearing on sunscreen, checking that we got
everything OK, and forming up a group to roll out. I knocked back three or four
fat tokes, and saddled up my trusty Dyno stretch cruiser. The bicycle felt
comfortable as an old shoe. The sativa settled in over the coffee, awakened the
mild acid buzz, and turned the morning into a dream.
All my senses cranked up
to 11. All the colors were art, all the sounds, music. Puddles in the low-tide
riverbed were clear and incredibly beautiful. We had a small turnout; it was just
our club and a handful of close friends. The morning was sweet and clear: perfect
for a cruise down the river, and out along the coast.
As I said, I took a modest
dose, and didn't get deep enough to have "visuals". The exception was
when we got to the beach, and stopped at the park restrooms to pee. You know
how that is when you walk out of bright sunlight into the dark. Add some acid,
and it like you're stepping into a closet full of fireworks. This is fun!
Rainbow pigeons shuffled and cooed up on the roof. The gods were with me on the
dosage; it was *exactly* enough- just what I had hoped to experience.
We headed up the coast. This
stretch of beach holds deep, deep memories for me. This is where I first saw
the ocean on summer vacation, 1963. I couldn’t wait to really taste the salt
water. I was on my first acid trip here in ’68. I learned to surf here in the
70’s. Saw people die in these waters. I scattered my father’s ashes here. And
my mother’s, and my grandmother’s. Last
summer when I was here on mushrooms, I could feel their spirits tearing though
me in the wind. It made me cry out… All this floated through the morning like a
deep incense of memory on the sea breeze. The winter sunlight is honey gold on
my face. And I recalled something about acid from years back-
My youngest brother and I
often didn’t get along. The dinner table turned into a battleground a couple
times a week, easy. Unless I came home high on LSD. Then all the antics my
brother would pull to get me pissed would make me laugh instead. Odd how I
hadn’t thought of that in so long. But it was of a piece with everything in the
world this day. No need for anger. I had also forgotten what a good social
lubricant acid can be. All day it just felt as though I were in the right
place, saying all the right things at the right time, part of my bicycling
family, high as a kite, and just thoroughly enjoying it all. The day was framed
and painted with everything that makes life good. The small dose made it all
glow and shine.
The important part, though,
was the deep perspective that came after the peak had passed, and the
excitement had settled. Riding back down the coast and up the river to the cars,
the tide was up, the river was full, and the still water reflected the
mountains and the sky. The afternoon sun bathed it all in deep golden light.
The sheer beauty of it all nearly brought me to tears. And I *realized*. I was
so very acutely aware that in another age and time I wouldn't be taking 20 mile
bike rides. I'd now be dead, or an invalid from heart disease. Nor could I be
drinking in this beauty through plastic eyes because I'd be blinded from
cataracts. I wouldn't be out partying and loving life at 65 years of age,
because I'd have worked myself to death.
I can give you the phrases, and they will sound
like lots of stuff you’ve heard before:
"There is *so* much beauty”.
”
The Creation is steeped in glory."
"Your very existence is miraculous."
"We are so richly blessed."
Life
is a gift.
Sometimes this stuff
sounds tired and trite until we get those flashes of insight into cosmic/
metaphysical Truth, and those phrases light up like fireworks. The LSD turns
that flash into a sustained glow; lets us savor those truths. Of course, that
glow fades. But the realization stays. Lucy had one more gift for me that day.
I have a bad problem with
road rage. So Cal traffic is awful, and usually by the time I get home from the
drive to the beach and back I’m an infuriated screaming wreck. Saturday, after
the ride, I glided through that traffic like I was cruising a country road. No
hint of frustration or anger. And the anger wasn’t anesthetized as if I’d taken
a Xanax or something. Today, I was just not the kind of person who lets a
little thing like traffic get him frustrated. I got home cool, calm, and happy.
Seven months
later although I still dislike driving, I still keep my temper in traffic. No
small thing. Lesson: It is not the
external situation that is the problem, but my response to it. I CAN drive
mellow. I just had to see it. What else is possible? Like I said- it's all stuff we know all
along. The magic is right here when we choose to see it.
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