Tree

 The ancient Germanic tribes once believed there were benevolent spirits living in wood, except they were asleep. If one were to knock on the wood, they would wake up the spirits, and receive a blessing direct from the wood. This is the origin of the expression, “knock on wood,” and is also the origin of the tradition of bringing a tree into a house. There is also a tradition, now become obscure in our culture, as strict and fast paced as modern day America is, where the wood is still a Christmas Tree.

There was a tradition of taking an excursion into the woods, and being still, in the vicinity of at least one tree, to give it the opportunity to speak to a human being. Fat chance, right? Church goers don’t do that much for God Himself anymore, except in church, and maybe not even there, these days. In America, in 2013, it’s an easy way for a human being to get locked up in a madhouse, especially if the human being does not “hop to,” immediately, for the authorities, and respond “rationally.”

If someone does happen to be engrossed in a deeply meditative state, it’s not easy to break off a perfectly fascinating conversation with a tree, one is so thoroughly enthralled, to simply suit some psychologist, or worse, a Police Officer, to satisfy their far fetched concept of reality, when one is performing questionable behavior in the first place, like meditating in the woods. If you “get caught,” listening to a tree, you can pretty clearly plan to spend a couple of weeks in a madhouse to suit the man. Congratulations. You will find there is a Baptism of the Spirit in this world.

I’ve been struggling to define reality as I see it, as a rational argument for the experts, to present it to various kinds of authorities, either in or out of institutions, for forty years now, but have found it a waste of time. I remain irrational, as defined by the psychiatric community as long as they want me to be, and the reality of the Police Dept, the paramedics, and doctors is no better an environment for me to have to prove myself to, regardless of my rehearsal. Please expand this to all emergency personnel.

If you’re caught doing something others don’t do, the authorities will lock you up quick.

You will also find, if you’re at all like me, that in the final analysis, there’s no one who cares whether you’re locked up in a madhouse or not. You’re getting housed and fed, and that’s all your family cares about. There’s a sanity hearing, where your loved ones don’t lift a finger to arrange for your release, if they show up at all, or you’re left alone in a court of law, to defend yourself in adverse circumstances, with law sharks swimming the waters. Merry Christmas. You’ll likely be an inpatient in a madhouse for longer than you’ll want to be.

It’s America’s way of ensuring your rights, while taking them away from you at the same moment. It’s how the system works, or doesn’t work, don’t you know. If a Police Officer or a doctor, whether medical or psychological, finds you behaving in a questionable manner, either in public or in relative privacy, they have the power to take your liberty away from you any time they like. By the time you get released from the laughing academy, you could be so angry you remember nothing whatsoever, except the fact that you’ve been behind closed doors too darned long.

A long time ago, I was in a dorm room of a university. There was one tree talking to another, in the woods outside my window, and I could hear the plainly. I was enrolled as a student in that institution of higher learning at that point. The trees saw that I could walk around anywhere I pleased, on my own two feet, while they were forced to stand still in one place, with their roots in the ground. They must take everything any creature, including man, dishes out, and who cares what we do to them, at any given time?

The trees didn’t accuse me of anything at all, but it was plain to see they were vulnerable beings.

The trees noticed I was listening to them, but made no adjustment, or try stop me from hearing. The only thing they can have for sustenance, besides rain, are the nutrients in the soil and the moisture from their bark. Humans feast on a lot more than that. Other species do an awful lot to take trees to task. What can a tree do to defend himself, but take it? These were the tree’s thoughts, as I recall, half a lifetime later, pondering my condition as a human being, with that same envy as I pondered them.

Trees happen to be exceptionally interesting folk to talk to, even if they do have a bad habit of doing all the talking, like I do myself, with others, I’ll admit. But meditation, and if you want to calling it transcendental it’s alright with me, really does work in this regard, if you can do it well enough to get sound results, and actually hear what your listening for. If you reach far enough within yourself, you could hear what I’ve heard. I’d like you to know I did a little bit of mescaline before the meditation, and believe it’s had it’s influence on my perceptions ever since.

There was a single pine tree who chose me to talk to much, much later than the ones in the forest did. He was standing alone in a place within the campus of another institution of higher learning. I got put off the campus for an interval of time I couldn’t recall, shortly after sentence was pronounced. I wasn’t interested in returning to that campus, after the incident, because I wasn’t interested in taking a trip to a laughing academy at that moment. I was not in a humor to press my luck.

You may find that mescaline may have some major, traumatic side effects on your psyche.

In fact, if you happen to have a flawed gene in your gene pool, you may have to deal with a chemical imbalance in your brain for the rest of your life. They call that called mental illness. You may find yourself admitted and discharged from institutions ad infinitum, the way I’ve found myself doing, or you may find yourself perfectly normal. It’s any body’s guess. I’m only trying to cover all my bases here. You’d have to submit yourself to a private doctor and psychotherapist on the outside.

I’m trying to tell you about my experiences with a specific recreational chemical, and let you know what happened to me. My psychological experience is shared with among, many of my generation. The psych hospitals and woods are full of them. I’ve had to take psychiatric medicines for better that forty years since I’ve ingested half a dose of chocolate, synthetic mescaline. On the other hand, I’ve found my conversations with trees to be valuable ones, even though they’ve happened to me few and far between. Would LSD or magic mushrooms have the same effect? I don’t know.

I don’t know about PCP, either, except that PCP is a dangerous horse tranquilizer.

Having a mental illness has been a grueling and lonely experience, where I’ve had to do without a wife and family endlessly. I’m not saying this is what will happen to you, either, since I happen to have known someone who got along fine taking the same chemicals. You may be a young person, flipping the heck out, and going on to get married to your best girl, and having a normal family. I’m only letting you know, in as brief a paper as possible, the way things were for me.

If I had it to do all over again, which I don’t, I’d avoid mescaline. It’s too strong for me.

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About geostan51

I'm a wordsmith and a craftsman. I've been known to hand crochet just about anything escept granny squares. I've got about twenty titles in my name on the Kindle Store at Amazon.com.
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