God Calls Me Meshuga
Seven years later and I’m starting to believe Him
NOTE… Below is my entry to the Trips Worth Telling series. Although not selected, I believe it meets Michael Pollan’s criteria of “mind-bending, life-altering psychedelic trips.” I urge you to read the other stories in the series. They’re really special.
I wasn’t expecting to wrestle God in 2011 and I certainly wasn’t expecting to win. But I did. That’s when God, or one of God’s angels, said I was “meshuga…” a crazy man.
After taking two hits of synthetic cannabis, aka Spice, my legs began to buckle. I hung on to the kitchen countertop for a few minutes as I steadied myself, then stumbled to the living room and collapsed on the couch.
I lay my head back and looked out the window into the garden. The wind was blowing hard, dust everywhere. I felt totally at peace as I watched my jeans collapse inward around my legs. My flesh was melting like the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz. I was leaving this world.
My eyes closed. Barely breathing now as I approached a long black tube.
The news had begun, so I knew it was some time after 4 p.m.. As I listened to NPR’s All Things Considered I could feel the world exploding. The distressed undertone in the reporters’ voices, a catch in the throat, as it were, as they reported on the flash points in the Middle East, the flooding along the Mississippi, the demonstrations, the misuse of power, the senseless killing. The dream I’d had the night before — I was repeatedly putting out fires in the kitchen — was an indicator of world events as well as the state of my own psyche.
It was then God spoke to me. He said I was being given a gift. Leave now and avoid all the insanely bad shit queued up in Earth’s timeline. (I’m paraphrasing.) I liked the idea. Just go and be done with it. Like rolling off a log… that peaceful, easy feeling.
Wait! Stop!
There was no fear, yet I felt strongly that I did not want to die alone. I asked for a postponement. The answer was No. I kept moving towards the black tube.
Then I had an idea.
I must leave Stella a note saying goodbye. I tried to rise. The thought pulled me back from the tube but, seconds later, I was again moving forward. So I thought, Wait! I need to write down what I’ve learned from this experience. Again I was pulled back for an instant only to move forward.
OK, I thought, if I’m going to die like this, alone, at least I should leave an interesting looking corpse, so I tried pointing to the garden outside the window, like Bowman in 2001: A Space Odyssey. As I got closer to the tube, my finger-pointing hand went limp and I ended up not pointing at anything.
Back to square one. Should I roll off that log, or should I fight? I decided to fight. I brought up excuse after excuse. And with every excuse I momentarily halted my deathly journey.
Please! Let me let Slider in from outside. He needs me! Tried to rise from the couch but couldn’t.
Please! I really really really need a drink of water. Tried to get up. Couldn’t.
Please!!! I have things I want to do! A voice in my head said (exact words), “Why haven’t you done them already?”
This mind blowing statement was followed by a barely perceptible shift, accompanied by a final message (again paraphrasing) Oy! Alright then. I’m tired of your whining. You don’t wanna go, so stay here already, Meshuga!
I watched my jeans inflate. I was back.
My thoughts today… Does it matter whether I actually experienced God, or an angel, or my own soul? I believe not. What stands out for me is that the world today is teetering on the edge of madness, and it is that very madness that daily taxes my strength to remain grounded and somewhat sane. I made the choice to stay. Some days I think I made the wrong choice.
Note — This is an edited version of the event I posted in 2016. In my original telling I withheld the fact that my near death experience was precipitated by smoking synthetic cannabis. It was legal then.
