It was the age of my wisdom, it was the age of my folly.
It was my season of light, and I had descended into the depths of despair.
It was 1973 in Texas and it was the age of hallucinogens.
My father wasn't six months gone and I really didn't know where to start.
So I shoved those thoughts back deep on a shelf, in a dark corner, in some abyss of my mind.
My friends and I would drive to the border of Louisiana armed with trash bags and beer. And we would pick psilocybin mushrooms out of piles of reeking cow shit. We'ed choke down some of these gag inducing 'shrooms on the drive back and then boiled the rest to make an even more gag inducing tea.
A shot glass would put some one in a transcendental state that can not be achieved with years of meditation.
There was a lake we all went to hang out. And we would give shroom tea to people for free. Before long there would be a hundred or more trippin hippies all communing with nature.
The law and order sticklers amongst us will shake their heads. Theirs is a world of rules and unquestioning application of regulations; all applied to maintain the peace and dignity of the state.
But these were the times of the fast and loose. Had we been caught, we would have been in as much trouble then as we would now. But our ideology was born from an altruism that has gone missing in today's world.
If you were not there, you won't understand. And I feel sorry for you missing it.
You have either tripped or you haven't.
What lies within this experience can not be conveyed to those that have not.
The cliche is that it open's doors that are never closed again.
It's all that and more.
As much as humanly possible, I think it allowed me to put all the garbage from my father and the barbarian into a nice paisley box, all wrapped in a kaleidoscope bow, and kick that box overboard and have it drift down like sludge to the Marianas Trench.