Writtings from The Eye of THOR

13 YEARS

With

PEACE-UP

            First and foremost I must say to all those who are in such a place as to wonder if this writing; I am about to do will incriminate any person or group it will not. Those portrayed in it are all factual people or groups yet; I will muddy the water enough for those involved not to be in any peril from the establishment. I will say this I will not deviate from the truth. I am telling this not to vanquish or bereft those who have done injury or attacked my person or ego, those who have shall meet there own justice or redemption as the case may be. That I have seen already. The stories I present during this time in my life are the reflection of that truth at times, and at others the jury is still out. I shall let the pieces fall as they may. Am I still pissed? Well would you be? A great leader and mentor in my life was a man who made this quote. “Anger is an emotion that if redirected and focused can be a great ally. You ask me that spiritual leader from India, Ghandi was one pissed off little man.

            I had been working at McGrath’s Seafood house and living out of my Chevy Blazer for a couple of months and had saved up enough money to get a home. I had stopped by at Big T’s a friend of mine from years earlier to pick up some chronic and he had this stuff called Salvia.  A bunch of us guys are all sitting around puffing and Big T goes, “Hey Thor do you want to try this stuff Salvia, its real intense”

            I’m like; “Okay” Big T has been a friend of mine for a while at this point so I feel pretty relaxed in his house. I should have known he might be up to something when I saw how carefully he put the small pile of little dark green plant leaves upon the bong hit he loaded for me. The guys had decided with a little conversation that would be the best way for me to ingest this new drug.

Big T. handed me the large glass bong while saying, “Here I loaded a good one” I took the whole bong hit and Salvia in one blast like a good champ, clearing the camber. About then this little voice inside of me that had eaten its fair share of acid and other hallucinogens tells me I haven’t had a normal bong hit. I continue to hold. The little voice became a big voice real quick. Somewhere in the distance I herd my breath leave my body. I was in what be considered a full blow acid peak, with in 30 seconds. If you have ever had some good acid from the old school chemists, some of the LSD from Sweden, or any other powerful hallucinogen you know the first thing you have to do is accept it. The second is following the way of it. The way of my experience told me to go outside for it had a powerful medicine component that told my spirit that it must in a place of nature not in a dwelling. I stood up and made my way around the couch and went to the back door. Every eye in the room was intently watching my every move. I stopped at the door turned towards Big T and inquired; for speaking while under the influence of heavy drugs I had mastered pretty well, so the fact that the voice that sounded in my ears gave me thought of a small desk sitting in the deep woods with a skinny man sitting behind it shouting orders through a megaphone some where in the recesses of my body to be certain of the location would require to much discipline and would generally be highly distracting, most of all he seamed intent on keeping his slicked back hair in place while shouting orders, “How long will this last?” My deep voice spilled out into the room, gathered in a pool by the couches, and leaked out the door behind me into a yard. Some how I caught big T’s voice after it bounced of the table, wall, wall, and ceiling right over my head until my ears caught up with my drowning eyes and says, “A few Minutes” Remember, I wanted to go outside, so waiting for the answer to the question I had asked left me in a mental purgatory of untold extremes. I stepped outside and the grass said, “Hello” by waving at me in unison with the sing song of the gentle summer breeze. I felt an awareness of the earth and the things that lay just beyond the veil. Whispers vainly attempted to communicate unseen wisdom and beckon my spirit forth to encounter visions, words, and yearnings, of a world not seen by mortal eyes. As quickly as it started it stopped like the end of a roller coaster ride that has just hit the brakes, yet the feeling of the turbulent ride persisted in my center. I stood wanting the whispers to continue, wanting to hear what was said or at least to understand the message I was given. It wasn’t until years later that I gathered somewhat of an understanding.

 I was standing at the smoke area at the Forest work camp which is surrounded by forest on all sides, and I noticed Steps a native Indian staring into the darkness. I walked over and quietly sat down beside him. I had heard strange wisdom from his mouth before, and so inclined to ask him why he looked at the wood in such a searching yearning fashion. He turned to me and replied in a Question, “Do you know why the things in the woods look out?”

I replied, “No.” Steps turned to me. I could see clearly in the moonlight the lines on his face, his long gray, black, and silver hair fell in a wild yet gentle cascade around his face. His countenance bore a quiet reserve and his eyes two dark glassy points like polished onyx seemed to shine back as he replied, “They look out because they have too.”

I