This is the place.

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With one hand guiding the key into the lock of my front door, the other hand grips my bag, which is already removed from my shoulder and ready to be dropped like the weight of the working week as I enter my apartment. I switch on my kitchen light and open the fridge door, reach for the beer and last night’s leftovers then prop myself against the kitchen bench as I open both. The cold beer is the first relief from the fifty-plus hours of contrived customer interaction. I stretch my neck and shoulders to relieve the stress of the tense muscles and I breathe, deep, and then exhale on a large sigh.

My mind is already seeking alternative relief from the heavy thought patterns that always seem cloud my mind at this end of the working week. A shower and meditation will kick start the process, and in that order I do both. The meditation takes me on a journey of its own, disturbed but peaceful. I take a trip to the inner depths of my soul, find fragmented ideas, and peace within the nothingness. When I come out I reflect upon my lack of meditation recently, but then I find ease in the thought the meditation works when its needed.
I slump in my chair swigging the beer and focus on my weed pipe upon the window ledge, as though it was awaiting my need for its use. I pack it full, spark of the lighter and breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Now the weight is fully lifted from my shoulders like the bag before it, only this time its much more than a few books and some work clothes. Within minutes I am picking up on new thoughts and creative ideas, my mind is liberated from the restraints of the manufactured world, which, all too often demands a lot of my attention and manipulates my thought patterns. My thinking becomes clear and my attention to thoughts is as meticulous or as vague as I desire.

The working week is a distant memory, except for the fact that I now look back on it as a whole, and not as the segmented parts that made it up. I look forward, to the next forty-eight hours, then shrink my scope to the night ahead of me and assure myself that it all starts now. I get a message on my phone, an invite to join friends with the intent of inebriation, and without hesitation I accept, not wanting any opportunities to pass me by. But my mind is still wandering to the idea of a full release of consciousness, to the possibility of a trans dimensional journey to really let go of the preceding week. One trip to fully open the mind, one trip to open my receptiveness to the people, experiences and conversations that lie before me in the night, bathed in the light of the full moon.

With my pipe now empty from the weed, I remove the baggy from the top drawer of my desk, the yellow, powdery, Di-methyltriptamine glistens as the lamplight warms it. I pack the pipe delicately and raise it to my lips, I spark the lighter once, twice, and then press the flame to the crystals. The undeniably unique smell of the burning entheogen penetrates my sinuses and I inhale deep, for the third significant time tonight. The efficiency of the capillaries transferring oxygen to my blood stream and in turn the delivery to the brain becomes rapidly apparent as the sharp edges of reality start to slip away before I have even had the chance to exhale. I place the pipe and lighter on the desk with a sense of urgency, and then I lean back in the chair as I exhale and relax. I allow the flood of billions of years worth of empty space to engulf me as my mind sails free into the conscious abyss, connecting with inexplicable dimensional realms, incomprehensible to the sheltered minds of contemporary society.
I am now completely free from the realm of physicality- this is the place where I learn and grow…

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