What I Learned About Life My First And Only Time On Acid
What I Learned About Life My First And Only Time Doing Acid
The way people described acid scared me beyond all reason. I heard that smoking weed is like gliding on a sail boat and taking acid is like being strapped to a rocket ship launching into space.
My boyfriend accepted the role of “sitter”. This meant he would keep an eye on me and make sure I didn’t start talking to garbage cans or start sparring with menacing light posts.
I popped the tiny, square tab on my tongue. My boyfriend, Nick, watched me do it and said, “Wow! You’re just gonna go for it, huh.” I said, “ I guess”. I got the feeling he assumed we were going to share a moment of silence, burn some incense, and perhaps say a poem or something out of respect for the drug before I partook. He seemed sorely disappointed.
Because I needed to make sure I didn’t swallow the acid, I talked a little funny, like I’d just had my wisdom teeth removed.
“How long is thith gonna taketh? Do I thwallow ith? Where do I keep ith, under my toungueth? Nick and I began googling: “What is the proper placement of an acid tablet? Do I swallow?” (The latter question brought up very interesting Google results to say the least….)
We decided grocery stopping would be a good idea before the acid started to take effect. People like snacks when they get high. I was getting high? So…
This proved to be an incredibly poor decision.
The moment the deli meats started meshing into the surrounding wall and case, I knew we needed to head home. Home is safe. Home is a place where people don’t seem to be filled up with helium, about to take flight at any second. Also, home is a place where there aren’t people. Period, because I KNOW they all KNOW that I’m tripping!
My sister lives in the same neighborhood as me. I frequently see her at this grocery store. As she approached, I noticed a drastic physical change about her, a change I could tell wasn’t an effect of the drug, since I was just starting my trip. The day I decided to take acid for the first time was the day she decided to shave her head. Without telling me. There we stood outside on the grocery store patio. Her in all of her courage and defiance, taking a stand against what the universe had doled out to her, and myself in trepidation and confusion, taking a trip because of what I had done to myself. On purpose.
The visual phenomena that takes place is quite distracting. I couldn’t organize my thoughts enough to be able to figure out how a keyboard worked on my laptop in order to send a business email. It was almost like the universe was saying, “Really, you’re gonna work on that shit RIGHT NOW. I don’t think so. Look at how awesome this is!” And then I would stare at the fibers in my bath towel laid across my kitchen chair, the tiny strands of cotton dancing back and forth like fields of wheat in a summer storm.
Nick kept asking me what I would like to do. Would I like to organize the food in our pantry? Would I care to enjoy a cheese enchilada? A walk in the park? And I remember thinking and saying that, yes, sure, I’d do all or any of those things. At the time, It didn’t matter whether I was painting the facade of the eiffel tower with water colors or cleaning my toilet. Any task would have been beautiful and correct.
I realized after taking acid, that in my normal life, I am constantly trying to escape from the present moment. If I’m driving in my car, stuck in traffic, I am just dying for the idiots in front of me to go faster. If I’m in line at the grocery store, I’m tapping my toes and feeling my jaw tense as the clerk makes conversation with the people which is adding an extra twenty seconds onto each transaction. How dare she!
Why do we do this to ourselves? Why should we be trying with all of our might to escape certain “boring” parts of our life in order to quickly arrive at the exciting parts, like crazy monkeys swinging from vine to vine.
We are running away because we don’t realize that the boring parts are the important parts too.
So, after I did acid for my first and only time, the next time I stood in an incredibly long line at the grocery store, I fought the urge to pull out my iPhone to snapchat. I breathed, settled into the moment, and realized how intricate the pattern on the floor was. And when it was my turn, I admired my cashiers tattoo and wondered about the significance of the art on her arm. I looked at the crinkles around her eyes and wondered what she laughed at in order for them to form. I felt the texture on my wallet as I pulled it out to pay, little rubber bubbles that I ran my thumb across.
And I realized that if you are running away from the boring parts of your day, you are running away from life, and that ALL OF IT matters and doesn’t matter at the same time. During every situation that life presents, I challenge you, whether you are in traffic or in love, to see if you can find a little space around your urge to escape and begin to notice that every moment is beautiful and correct.