Tallying Earth's soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves…
In March, my wife and I drove through New Mexico en route to Tucson. I went into the R Greenleaf in Ruidoso and purchased single grams of seven different strains of cannabis. These are their stories...
It's getting a bit late for first smoke of the day but there it is. About to take a dip in the pool. Hesitant to puff first but yolo.
What's it gonna be, though? Mason jar with joints upon opening stanks real good. Gonna burn a The Fizz. Sativa. Could make me cold in the pool but should give me ride.
The Fizz. Whew. Head rush. Menthol, fruity taste. Sharp. A spitter. It's early on. There is a bite, I'm phishing my own brain. Acceptable only in small doses. Notice how Buddhist meditation is not about self-searching, or soul-searching. It's the opposite. There is no self, there is no soul. We will return to the nothingness from whence we came. Somehow that still doesn't do it for me. Buddhism offers never-ending life as long as you are willing not to be you. The Fizz!
Soul spelunking, trippy high, face in the mirror, wide-arc. Or maybe it's just the circumstances. Reset-ing...
Weeds of Grass 