In this case, Rasta refers to members of the Jamaican Rastafarian organization.(say rahs tah fah RYan).Google "Haile Selassie" and"Marcus Garvey"for details.
For me, the story starts in the summer of '67. My work was in San Jose, Ca. then, as a industrial distributor's represenative. Probably the most interesting and certainly the most lucrative of my many different experiences in the workplace. Much as I consciously liked pretty much every aspect of my position then, something that I couldn't seem to put my finger on, that I don't understand to this day, was often causing periods of deep dread and very discomforting and alarming thoughts to invade my otherwise happy self. One day, when I had arranged for our company's hydraulic products expert to accompany me to visit a client who needed his best advise on a hydraulics application his company was then installing. Our company's expert and I had also become friends; having worked together a couple or so days a month for about a year, by then.
In recent months, he had begun to offer me marijuana to smoke. Being an especially law-abiding citizen (that's a whole 'nother story) I always declined. At least up to that day. But now my demons talked to me in my own voice and they were suggesting stuff I didn't like but felt I might have to follow eventually. To discomfort and depression, add fear.
After we finished our last client visit of the day, my friend offered the "Boo" as he called it, and this time I accepted. I had no idea what to expect, even though I had by then , known many regular cannabis smokers and had listened to their discriptions. Actually, I guess you could say I expected some kind of mild euphoria or at least a pleasant experience. He rolled a "joint", just a little smaller than a regular cigarette and we shared it; each having 3 or 4 puffs before putting it down for a rest. I remember for a moment thinking that it might not work on me or maybe it wouldn't work the first time. That thought was almost immediately crushed by this giant wave of well-being washing over me and as it passed away from me it seemed to "paint" everything it passed over with their own, natural colors, effectively restoring my color vision a moment before I realized that it had been missing for some time. In the few days that followed, I rediscovered much of the joy involved in human life on planet Earth. Though only 29 at the time, somehow the life I had lead up to then had apparently caused me to block much of the best parts of life. Suddenly, I was seeing color all of the time; was really struck by how many shades of green there are. The sounds! Music, people's voices,even the noise of traffic., All delightful. Family, friends and neighbors were suddenly so dear, life so sweet. By the end of that first day I was well on my way to a whole new way to live. Considering how all those beautiful changes took place in my mind beginning only moments after my very first experience smoking cannabis, it seems only right for it to get the credit. It does, and that's just the beginning.
But now, owing to scheduling and limited available time I need to break off here to return in a couple of days with this story's conclusion. cheerio!
No comments:
Post a Comment