'Hooked'

Black Hearts

and faded balls.

We walk through space;

thinking of doing, but not.

Unremembered,

and unfulfilled.

It's the drugs that incriminate us.

So long's we live, and die unremembered,

we live in graves unfulfilled ~ unrelinquishable.

I want to discuss the bottom half of the medicine wheel now. It applies to those who’ve had an addiction problem. Because for him or her, the dark side or Shadow is very near.

The will is the most powerful tool we possess, but for an addict it is the easiest to relinquish. People who are addictive have a little bit of a mixed bag inside them, perhaps from what's happened in the past, or maybe from what they're not letting happen.

It's a do or die situation. While under the influence, we see our experiencing in a meaningful perspective, because we're temporarily hooked to our Larger Being. But when we're down, we become like a leaf, at the mercy of the River.

When we get back to living again, we've already experienced our potentials, so we sit back and play the waiting game. The danger of drug abuse is losing it all. It's easy to get absorbed by the awe of it all, but when we get back to living again we have nothing left. It's like playing out our life in another field - real life becomes meaningless.

As our life slips by we waste our time here, because we've learned our lessons from a ‘plastic’ God. When we reach the other side we will be scarred. Our next life will have to bear the consequences.

A few years ago I had a vivid dream that my dad was still alive. It was one of those Vision dreams:

He was playing ball at a university. He always used to talk about university life, when he was alive. He looked very happy, playing ball with his university buddies; for some reason he spotted me through the wire fence. "Willy, is that you?"

He was amazed and really glad to see me, but there was no way we could touch. Suddenly a strange thing happened. My father looked at me kind of curiously and started to cry. I got panicky, what was he seeing? He picked up a mirror and held it up for me to see. Half of my face was purple and all wrinkled. It was a terrible sight, and I understood why my father was crying.

Drugs can take away all the good we've ever done. For every addict the circumstances are different, but I'll bet every addict is in the same predicament; they've already experienced the highlights of their future. The mind loses its ability to stimulate enthusiasm in life, because it's already experienced the plastic God; we miss all the signposts along the way, and life becomes a waste.

I became aware of the plastic God in a dream, while staying at a friend’s house. Sometimes friends can help us through the Dream World. It has happened to me on a number of occasions, dreams getting mixed up with others', in the Larger psyche at night.

I dreamt I was in a room. There were other people in the room but I couldn't see their faces. Everyone seemed to be wearing long gray robes. A man in the middle of the room stood taller than the rest. I noticed he had a white plastic head with markings on it, but his collar prevented me from seeing his face.

It occurred to me that this man was God, and that we were surrounding him to receive countenance. I moved closer to him and bowed my head. I became engulfed in some kind of powerful Light, which he was directing down on me. I was deeply moved and I think I said, "Oh God, Oh God". After a few minutes he gently pushed me into the corner of the room. I guess my time with Him was up, but I felt like I was being segregated, even though I knew the others deserved their fair share of time with Him too.

In the next part of the dream we were in a field, passing drugs back and forth. Suddenly some people had a hold of me. They were trying to pluck my eyes out with a spoon. I was wiggling around trying to get away, but they had a good hold of me. I could feel the spoon beginning to pierce my eye. I screamed and woke up.

The penalty for prolonged use of drugs is a loss of true Vision. I think there may be a place for drugs, because they seem to have the ability to open up blocked passages in the mind. But we need to be careful.

It's really our soul who experiences the drug high, and I doubt if our soul knows we're on drugs. It assumes we've reached a new plateau in our development when we've come through, but it must wonder why we're still acting the same way in our life. Hence I see the need for medicine men (and medicine women).

There are a number of other influences that affect our lives; the first of these is our ego -