Day 1

The plan was simple: wake up at 5 am, smoke some weed to experience the flight at 7:30 when high. I did wake up at 5 indeed. Instead of getting high though I created a philosophy. A philosophy that’s gonna lead me to amazing adventures while maintaining some of my sanity.
Fuck it!
That’s the whole philosophy. It’s like ‘I don’t give a fuck’ with one major improvement. It’s active instead of passive. By the same token, it’s also proactive instead of reactive. Just what you need in an adventure called Life!
The flight was boring, yet amazing. I mean, traveling almost 3000 km in matters of 3 hours or so… Just amazing! We don’t slow down enough to appreciate it fully. I did. It was awesome.
I landed in Poznań soon enough and was now on another leg of my itinerary. The train. Always great.
In the meantime, everyone I met was referring to me as ‘mister’. Makes no sense. We have enough boundaries between us as it is. So, I insisted, pleaded and made sure people called me David. That’s me. Not some vague and distant ‘mister’. I’m David and I’m right here right now. Just next to you.
Train ride assured me that yes, indeed, a tragedy of an undisclosed magnitude has struck Poland and its citizens.
Fuck it! Let’s hear it.
Well, it turned out to be no tragedy nor any imminent threat of one nowhere near to be found. My train companions and I shared a couple of laughs and moved on.
I got out at the Pleszew Train Station. Time to plan forward. Having no idea where the festival grounds are and being aware I will need my legs later on I figured I need a ride. There was a number of people looking directionless and like they were going to the festival too. So I shouted: “Hey, anyone going to the festival? Let’s share a taxi!”
No response. At first. After a while, when I reached for my phone to call one of the taxi services advertising on nearby signs some people approached me.
To be honest, when at first I looked at them and saw how well they ‘fit’ together I was immediately put back into my place. For the last time if I recall correctly.
The Girl was quite extraordinary. Very well taken care of but just before the border with vanity. Certainly well developed, both physically and mentally and spiritually despite her young age.
Two more people joined in, asking if we’re still calling the taxi. A chubby and beautiful Polish girl and her black friend. Well, he was something, too! So well defined musculature and that peculiar gleam in his eyes. He was a stoner.
Surprisingly, these two knew nothing of the festival and it was just the girl’s home town. When the guy heard about the festival and a whole music genre purely created by and for stoners… Let me just say it was his oh, so very happy day!
Ultimately, we (Me, The Sexy Girl and her ‘boyfriend’) dropped the two of them near their destination. Home.
We continued to the festival grounds. In the meantime, I learned that the reason why the girl and the boy ‘fitted’ so well together was of one another sort altogether. They were siblings. And she made sure I knew what this means. There was some undeniable electricity between us. Which was the norm at the festival as I soon found out.
Green Smoke Festival
Day 1
Arriving at the gates I paid my dues by presenting the ticket and receiving a hand band for it, buying a spot on the campsite or The Tent Field and receiving another band for it.
I called my friends with whom I was about to meet and who made sure I had everything I needed, which I didn’t know by then. I had everything, including an inflatable mattress, a sleeping bag, and of course a tent.
This were the last necessities/formalities I committed. And then I was free. Already exchanged some smiles, little laughter, and a story or two. About the ‘mister’ issue, about the journey.
Meeting with my friends was quite ideal. Two of them, the ones I know less, were sleeping after a long drive. The other two, my dear friends, Kinga and Tomek, were waiting for me. Sort of. They had no weed.
I mean they had some but wanted to save it for later. Not thinking too much more than “This is a stoner festival. These people are stoners. Stoners are great. Stoners share.” I jumped over to a group of guys smoking a spliff.
The Story:
Hi, I came here from Malta. Especially for the festival and I didn’t want to smuggle anything into the country. Could you help out?
They really wanted to help out! I bought a Majestic Spliff for 15PLN which was still much cheaper than the 20EUR a gram I paid back home. But hey, at least home it was decriminalized! To be honest though, at the festival, it was more. It was just… ‘right’!
My 2 friends, Kinga and Tomek and I shared that spliff. At first, we didn’t quite grasp the entirety of the freedom we suddenly found ourselves in so we looked for a quieter spot to smoke. We found one close one of the toilet spots. Very fresh, clean, beneath the large and luscious trees on a tree stump next to make-do sinks which served everyone during the festival.
And Kinga’s and Tomek’s real anxiety came out. They were concerned, especially Tomek, that having a tendency to fall asleep after weed this is how the day 1 will look for them. Genuine concern. I had to act.
I figured, hey!, the mind is 100% suggestible and only needs a little nudge out of the rut to start operating at the full capacity and do its own bidding…
“Hey, Tomek?” I asked gently and firmly.
“Yeah?” Apprehension level 999+
“You know how you often, almost always, become sleepy after smoking weed?”
“No! Don’t! David!”
“Yeah, you do!”
“David, no. Dude!” Kinga chimed in.
<0 seconds> “So, if I was about to tell you that in 45 seconds or so you will suddenly and without a reason become very sleepy…”
“No! Not this time! You won’t ‘psyche’ me!”
“After you will become sleepy I will click my fingers like that <click!> and tell you: Wake up, Tomek, we are going to the concerts now and you will enjoy them with your fullest attention and your senses, conscious and otherwise and only fall asleep
<40 seconds> when you choose to and deem it a right moment.”
<43 seconds> Tomek was yawning like an ancient sloth setting up for the winter sleep.
<45 seconds> <click> “Wake up, Tomek, we are going to the concerts now and you will enjoy them with your fullest attention and your senses, conscious and otherwise and only fall asleep when you choose to and deem it a right moment.”
And EXACTLY that happened. And tomorrow, and the day after. I checked on him throughout the festival to make sure he’s fine, no troubles sleeping, etc.
He was fine.
We’ve spent some time to witness the first sign of how blessed environment we were in and to feel at home.
Two completely stoned guys playing frisbee.
I mean… That’s something! The frisbee is flying where IT wants to fly, regardless of the vector, velocity and strength or direction of the throw. One of the guys is running in an exactly opposite direction, because reasons. The ‘thrower’ seems to be enjoying every moment of it and laughing alongside the three of us.
Pure joy
And so we went on, bidden farewell by the trumpet music of some dude who saw it as a right thing to do and SCORED the entire Stoned Frisbee game with some of the best tunes played on a plastic trumpet pretending to be brass-er than brass! Another guy with a drum, some vocalists, two guys playing frisbee, everyone high as fuck!
In the meantime, when I was acquainting myself with the festival grounds, by the means still mysterious to me I came into possession of some fine weed. All my needs were sorted and I was unhindered and unburdened. Free and calm.
I already made some new friends, saw the Tent Settlement where the Sexy Girl and her brother had set up and generally started sinking in into the vibe.
The moment of coming off to see the stage came. It was an amphitheater with two side entrances in the middle of the height of it and two right on the sides of the stage. Splendid.
The moment I walked up a short and nice flight of stairs leading to the center of the amphitheater I saw fields of grains with an occasional, yet plentiful specks of colors like flowers. Cornflowers and Poppies. Camomiles and Bluebottles and Peonies. Everyone looked so beautiful. They swayed slowly, gently and mindfully. Everyone in their personal rhythm which somehow was in perfect tune with the music trickling from the stage and everyone else’s rhythm.
Pure beauty
And behold as I saw her. The Black Grain. Standing tall and high. Black as the night and ravens feathers. Calm. Beckoning. Being as a black line striking this colorful meadow through. Only adding to the beauty of colors, the harvest gold and the warm wind on your face.
“This is amazing. I have to experience more.” Whole thinking process encapsulated in one short utterance:
“Fuck it!”
Few minutes later I was already chatting with her.
Mary. Her name was and is genuinely Mary. It may not be unusual for any place other than Poland. So she was unusual.
We’ve spent that entire day from that moment together.
I was hitting on her. But not for anything. We both knew perfectly well, and agreeably so, that nothing ever is going to happen between us. Nothing other than Electricity.
“Oh, you never say never!” Well, I hear you and I respect you but not on the Green Smoke Festival. If you say ‘never’ on the Green Smoke it will be never. You are completely free to use this and similar words throughout the whole Festival and rest assured that what you say will be. Tat Tvam Asi. You’re it.
So, in this safest of environments, I was hitting on her like there’s no tomorrow. And lo and behold, she was receiving it. Every drop of it. Always. Gracefully, Mindfully and with Gratitude. I said EVERY single right thing in a right way in a right moment. If it was any other setting we would probably be Fire and Gasoline and leave the world in flames.
She was skinny in an almost skeleton-y way AND still very sexy! I have never seen anyone quite like that before! She wore her amazing steampunk red-tinted glasses and her hair pinned up high. She was also reciprocating my amours, not that it changed anything.
Inamorata and Inamorato. Dancing.
Oh, yes! We danced until 6 am.
In retrospect, it means that since I woke up at 5 am and went to sleep at 6 am — my Day 1 at the festival lasted 25 hours.
“Even if there were no two other days, worth it!” Was one of my last ‘sane’ thoughts as I recall now.
Mary and I shared a lot of electricity, a lot of weed and a lot of attraction. We didn’t share a tent (even though I wasn’t sure if I have any sleeping bag) and slept calmly and peacefully until about 9 am.
That day, though, I met those guys among others:
Dąbrówka, Michał, Nikodem, and Yanka.
Amazing family! And I use the word ‘amazing’ with its original purpose, not the “Yeah, it’s amazing” kind of bullshit we tend to reply with when faced with an utterly boring video of a friend’s child’s first steps. Deep down, we all know. It would be fucking amazing if the kid would fly. Walking? Especially first steps? Can be a non-event at best. We ought to reply with: “What? It’s learning to walk. This always happens. Wait until your kid has sex or weed or hurts someone for the first time. Even then, the chance of ‘it’ being ‘amazing’ is slim.”
We ought to appreciate our children for what they truly are. And, as you might, start with yourself.
“Ma’boi Nik!” I am confident these were the exact words that were uttered and heard by the most people and the most times during this entire festival! Whenever I saw ma’boi Nik, even from a distance, I would shout loud and clear:
“Ma’boi Nik!”
This 12-year-old boy and I have had hands down the deepest and most meaningful conversations of all the people I shared my time with during the festival! Examples:
Nik 1:
“Hey, Nikodem, may I ask you a very blunt question?”
“Sure! Always!”
“You being at this festival… you know, a ‘stoner’ gig. Do you use weed yourself or with your parents?”
“Of course not! I am too young”
“Of course.”
And yes, that amazing kid knew everything about weed he needed to know. He knew it can be pretty amazing and it can be pretty dangerous too. He knew it’s too early for him and had 0, ZERO, waiting, longing or any form of an urge to try it. He was thoroughly enjoying his time he got without weed.
#Parenting #YouDoItOhSoRight!
Nik 2:
“[insert your name] David, I really like you!”
If you ever hear this words said by a 12-year-old, please know you are doing fine. And ALWAYS remember and treasure those words. It’s not a recognition. It’s a calling.
“Why? Ma’boi?”
“Because you are smart and you know a lot and you use it. Not just talk about it.”
The level of comprehension of Worlds problems? 999+
Nik 3:
“Hey, David, why do you smoke?”
“Well, now that’s a really great question as I sense you are not asking for my usual reasons?”
“No. But what are they?”
“Well, I use Marijuana as a medication, not as a diet. <Pause> Even though it certainly may sometimes seem otherwise. But you get it.” I smiled. And in that smile fell the last masks I have worn for years, decades even. And then some more hidden masks I didn’t even know about and I was I. Tat Tvam Asi.
“Yeah, I know. And?”
“I use it to find my true self, you know? The one that likes music because I like music and not because I want to impress some girls. The one that likes cooking. Not because it’s useful, creative and again, impresses some people.”
“…”
“I guess, I finally wanna impress myself.”
“What for?”
“I dunno, really.”
He interrupted me “You impress Me!”
And that was all. I was I. The which to which there is no whicher. Tat Tvam Asi.
Facts and Figures
On the first day of the festival, I ate nothing and I smoked between 5 and 7 grams of weed. Many a different variety. With many a different entity. Not sure if all were people.
On day two I was down to 3–5 grams and still enjoying fasting. Drinking plenty of Mate drinks!
Day three saw a major decline down to no more than 3 grams. The fasting and hydration were still being fantastic!
Some of the weed was… let’s just say: EPIC! And even more than that! One was LEGENDARY.
(((ORANGE)))
The only weed name that was ALWAYS spelled all caps. Just this one word. But let me tell you a legendary, now, story about a legendary weed. Sit down, and listen…
At some point of a second night at the festival, I found myself in a totally opposite circumstance than the ones I started with. Let me explain.
When I came here I had 2 smoking pipes. Ah, yes. The classics, the old timers, good ol’ old skool. The elegance and the class. Yeah, of course, I use the pipe! Motherfucker.
So when I came here I was in possession of two short sweet smoking pipes and 0 weed.
And now, I was in possession of at least two grams of weed in at least 4 different packets, ok one is empty, so 3.
And 0 pipes.
I think I ate some of one. Another story altogether.
How quickly I figured who can have a spare pipe!
Well, “my friends” was one bet that I checked. Thye didn’t.
The Architects.
Next two tents from mine to the oh, so right! were 2 other tents. A small one, like mine, and a big one.
There were 3 guys. In their late 30s or early 40s.
Like all completely normal and functioning human beings, even the prototypes, they’ve spent around 20 minutes setting the big tent up.
And unlike human beings they
‘ve
spent
next 4 and a half
hours
setting up the mouthfucking roof.
For the fucking tent.
Sort of a pick in the porch.
4,5
So hence why The Architects. I wasn’t going to check any other bets. This was a sure one. Before I even approached them, one of them, Architect Pawel, stood up to greet me.
I was sort of in a hurry as other people were waiting for me and my new pipe so I quite rudely (for a stoner :D) interrupted him.
“Architect Pawel, Architects” I nodded a bow to other two Architects still sitting. Under a roof of their tent. Proud.
“I am here with a mission!” I exclaimed!
“Yes, we do listen.” They slightly bowed forward to have a better hearing point.
“Somehow or other it just so happened…”
“If weed is what you need? We know a guy.”
“What guy? No! Weed is, oddly, what I have! I am missing a pipe or some other utensil to smoke it with. Hence, my pickle.”
“No pickle.”
“Dawid. I have a gift for you because you’re such a little Angel.” Architect Pawel hugging me on his way to his tent.
Let us stop here for a while. Enjoy. Listen. Watch carefully and relaxed. You might learn something.
When a 47-year-old man who is on a stoner festival while his wife and kids are sending him pictures of them recreating a small festival stage for kids, with the tent and the tablet with YouTube and all says to you:
“<Insert your name>. I have a gift for you because you’re such a little Angel.”
You know you have arrived.
Fuck that Coaching Self Motivation All retro no vomit bullshit. You are supposed to arrive. At some point at least.
This was that point.
Not even two minutes later he comes back emerging from his tent.
“Please” He handles me a brand new glass short pipe. How I like’em. And it’s packed to the brim. How I like’em.
I accepted the gift. And started crying. Fuck you. You weren’t there.
So we exchanged intense amounts of gratitude and smoked my new pipe for the first time. When the Architect Pawel was giving me the pipe I thought I saw a little universe inside.
I mean, I swear I saw a little universe inside the pipe. With bright and light orange tiny twinkling stars and suns and planets. Yes, I was a bit high at the time but only tiniest! This is why I wanted to find the new pipe!
Now I sort of saw it too. The Orange Universe.
…
I looked Pawel directly into his soul through his eyes “Is this?”
“What? Good weed?”
“Oh, yes, it is but not my point. Is this… ORANGE?!”
And then and there I saw the 3 purest smiles in my life. They knew it. I knew it. They knew that I know and I knew they knew that I know.
ORANGE
It was too late.
We got so fucking astrologically high you wouldn’t believe if you never smoked ORANGE! All 4 of us. Happy as can be. And I left.
On my way, my friends asked me if I found a pipe. I told them the whole story. And the look on Tomek’s face!
“Is this what I think it is but I can’t remember what is its name?”
“That was the motherfucking longest sentence in this man’s life! Bravo, ladies and gentlemen!” And we clapped.
“ORANGE”
“What?”
“Yes, Tomku, everything is going to be alright like peaches and oranges. Because this is, oh yes, this is, the legendary ORANGE!”
“Nooooo!”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes, yeees!”
“Fuuuuu”
“Fuuuuuuuu”
“Far out. Far out, mate!”
“What is ORANGE, you might ask, the young ones? Great. You’re learning.”
“Orange is not just a color of these tiny little stars inside this pipe…” I turned the pipe to the light so everyone could see this.
Tiny but entire universe with the galaxies and all, speckled with tiniest little flowers, orange, and light in color, looking exactly like stars, and suns, and moons and planets.
All that. In 1 (one) pipe. I mean, yes, we had to draw breath so hard, suck it soooo fuuuucking hard. To even get a smudge of smoke! We (4 of us: Me and The Architects) each got like 3 tiny hits each and I think we arrived at the consensus that we got tired of all that sucking. So I moved on.
Now another 5 people were smoking it! Me and my friends. And only one (1) of them knows WHAT we are smoking.
“Thank you, oh ORANGE, that at least one knows and can share this joy with me!”
“So what really IS ORANGE? You know how normally, after smoking pot it hits you after few seconds and you have 2-stage high? First stage normal nice proper high and second stage is just around half as strong?”
The class nodded when professor Tomek and I continued our presentation.
“So this is NOT it. Now, now, there is no need for deep seeded panic in your eyes! This is no crack, nor shrooms, nor spiked up! This is the True ORANGE. Current status? L e g e n d a r y.
Most likely non-existent or extremely hard to come by.
100% natural and no one knows why and how but this one strain of Marijuana produces tiny little orange flowers. They are the size of 1/10th or even 1/20th of a regular Marijuana flowers. And when you pack them tightly, as good Architect Pavel did for us tonight, you see this.” I raised the glass closer to everyone’s eyes slowly so everyone could have a good and undeniable look.
Tiny ORANGE Universe
We smoked, laughed, exchanged stories and opinions and some additional instructions…
“Few seconds and 2-stage high for up to 4–5 hours combined?” I asked the class.
“No, no, no, no!” I mimicked Ross from friends from the episode where he is teaching Chandler to take what he paid for in the hotel.
“Solid 6-hour high of a totally random AND changeable nature? The record of a shortest high on ORANGE is 6:01h. You DON’T know when it will REALLY hit you for next 40 to 60 minutes?” I hung that questions in the air for so long they almost started gasping for air with the tension!
“Yes, yes, yes, yes!”
We laughed soooooo hard, sooooo many times. It was incredible and fun. Slightly apprehensive, we went on to get to the stage. Tomek and I had an investigation!
When we were smoking that ORANGE we both simultaneously thought the same question:
“Are they from Australia?! Is there any chance that on this tiny, cameral festival we have a star from Australia?”
We had to investigate. Naturally.
As it turned out, yes, the band playing was, indeed, Australian. From my wonderful one-of-homes cities Melbourne, Australia, mate!
Anyways. It turned out to be all true about ORANGE. All. True. I mean, I smoked it before and had tested all of those symptoms and even learned how to control where the phase or the high goes. But there was this fable…
That sometimes, sometimes you will get The Legendary ORANGE Phase. And with it an orange mark somewhere on your skin. It was at this moment when I looked at Tomek.
On his left cheek and temple, he had a big-ass orange Nordic dragon! Krzemo? The other friend? Native Indian simple markings on his forehead and under his eyes. Straight orange thick lines. Crazy! We asked other people. They saw it too.
Let me get back to The Architect Pawel for a moment, though. He had put so much work into making this pipe it was artisanal old days craft! An entire, fucking, gram or so was in that pipe! That night, with that ONE (1) pipe 16 people got high on ORANGE!
I mean, I’m counting myself twice, so technically 14 people and me twice. That was a gift oh, so precious and not even because of its cost being 5x the normal weed. If you could find it!
So, there we were. My friends went somewhere in the seats of the amphitheater and I was still waiting and soaking in the music.
It was a real Melbourne. I could hear the music of specific suburbs that could only be heard by someone who lived there long enough.
The Violet and The Orange
I slowly and with purpose climbed the short flight of stairs, saw how transcendentally the stage was sinking in violet light. People too. Completely violet. Except for one figure. A girl. With a red and warm yellow aura. She felt me.
I lost my purpose. I lost my everything when our eyes met. There was only pure, free and unconditional love. Slowly and madly flowing. Whole my pure love flowing from me into her and her pure love flowing into me. Milky white glowing stream of pure love. Without anything attached to it. No desire, expectations, erotism, need.
Pure love
Yes, this is The Story.
Magda.
After we exchanged our love we got back to ourselves. She kept dancing. And I knew I wanted to be near her tonight. So I kept going.
There were many obstacles. Of which morons who didn’t get the memo it’s a STONER festival and got pissed with alcohol where most entertaining.
I knew I couldn’t be stopped now and the whole path is only to give her time to come to the same…
She just turned her head to look for me where I was before. I silently and without a gesture beckoned her eyes. She looked at me and smiled. Like she knew I didn’t run away and I’m coming to her. Of course she knew.
Day 2 is coming in it’s due time… and that’s not even a half of it!
