Day 108

A long scenic taxi ride along a meandering coastal route, a flight from summer to winter, a complete change of scenery, air and food and another day gone. As I go through days like these, life seems more and more like a dream, my belief in everything being multidimensional beyond my imagination gets reaffirmed and my ability to only experience life in limited dimensions starts to bother me. It seems that this whole creation is like one big jigsaw puzzle all the odd shaped 3-D pieces of which have spheres, pyramids, cubes and stars jutting out and cut out of their sides. They all belong to different sets randomly thrown together and we are made to believe they fit. No matter how much I try I cannot make them fit because I can only see them in a narrow paradigm and a through a very small bandwidth. In it’s entirety, the concept is baffling and way beyond my understanding.

I feel like a 1920s medium wave transistor in a world of satellite probes, robotic assistants and supersonic waves. I cannot comprehend the hows, whys, ins, outs, how comes and whereabouts of anything happening around me. It must be real at some level and yet, it is a dream.

Spirit is the real and eternal, matter is the unreal and temporal.

Day 107

This morning after the yoga lesson and a brief meditation, the instructor said to everyone with utmost sincerity and a sweet smile, “Have a peaceful day”. The way she said it really made me want to honor her wish for me. Something inside me completely resonated with her – I want to have a peaceful day because this person wants me to and I did. I have only known her a few days and yet I felt that way about her. It made me think about all my near and dear ones. They wish the same for me and they say it in their own special ways – by sending me thoughtful messages or funny stories, by reading my blog, by calling me just to say hello or just by being there for me. I want to honor their wish for me too and I will. Also, when I wish someone a good day, I will really mean it, making sure the universe gets it like it did this morning.

Today I thought about how much he had enjoyed the holiday he had in Greece with his best friend and his mother a few years ago. I was hoping to go for a similar holiday with him and his best friend sometime this year. We could have gone last year but somehow it got postponed. There is always next year, next summer, next month, next week or even next day. But this time there isn’t. What there is, is a lesson not to take things or people or time too much for granted. Sometimes it’s all gone in a flash. Am I now postponing being peaceful? I have the choice to be it every moment of everyday. It’s up to me, now, now, now……

Day 106

‘Save the planet! Eat a vegetarian.’ read his t-shirt.  He loved to laugh and make others laugh. His laughter was infectious. Lots of his family and friends remember him for that. I miss him terribly for that. When I see people making funny faces while their picture is being taken or pronounce a word in a peculiar manner or have a funny mannerism about them, I can see his amused smile. We were once in Switzerland where we managed to locate a little Indian eatery. The proprietor would welcome us in and lead us to our table. “Are you cumberfatale?” he would ask with a big smile on his face. We relived that scenario through his mimicry many a time, each time as vividly as ever.

As a long haired 16 year old he would douse his head in coconut oil so that Cleo, our family dog could lick it all off as she loved the taste of it. It was a treat to watch the two of them cuddling and playing on the floor. He loved animals. He named his little kitten ‘Milkshake’. He took good care of him, spent lots of time playing with him, let him sleep in his bed, bought him toys, took lots of pictures of him, watered and fed him and made sure he was safe. He was a good Mum.

For the evening of Day 0, I had tickets for us to go out for a play in the west end of London together and he knew that. I thought keeping him entertained might help him keep going. In reality, may be even the idea of going out exhausted him.

During a casual conversation last evening I was asked, ”How many children do you have?” Not sure what to say to that. Do I have one or two? Both of them live in my heart forever.

Day 105

AK-47, Knock Out and Destroyer – these are the names of the newer brands of cannabis in common use amongst adolescents today. Very appropriate terms. THC (tetrahydrocannabinol) is the active ingredient of Cannabis. For the past 15 years, what is sold commonly in the UK is ‘skunk’ and other varieties which have THC concentrations 2-3 times higher than the older traditional cannabis. 5.3 million 16-24 year olds have used it in 2013 according to this very informative leaflet published last year by the Royal College of Psychiatry:

:http://www.rcpsych.ac.uk/mentalhealthinformation/mentalhealthproblems/alcoholanddrugs/cannabisandmentalhealth.aspx

A study following 1600 Australian school kids, aged 14 to 15 for seven years, found that children who use cannabis regularly have a significantly higher risk of depression. Daily use increases the risk of depression and anxiety to as much as 5 times higher in later life. The opposite was not the case – children who already suffered from depression were not more likely than anyone else to use cannabis. There is sufficient evidence to show that those who use cannabis particularly at a younger age, such as around the age of 15, have a higher than average risk of developing a psychotic illness, such as schizophrenia or bipolar disorder.

Why are teenagers more vulnerable to the use of cannabis? Apparently the brain is still developing in the teenage years – up to the age of around 25. A massive process of ‘neural pruning’ goes on, streamlining a tangled jumble of circuits so they can work more effectively. Any experience, or substance, that affects this process has the potential to produce long-term psychological effects.

Of course not everyone who uses cannabis, even at a young age, develops a psychotic illness. Research shows that those who have a family history of a psychotic illness, schizotypal personality or possibly have certain types of genes may be at increased risk of developing a psychotic illness following the regular use of strong cannabis.

Well, what can we do about this? In America, in some parts of which cannabis use is legal, they have marijuana-anonymous.org. Has criminalization of cannabis helped at all? Millions of people are still using it. Is it possible that there would be no need to create stronger and more damaging variants of cannabis if it was legal? If the users did not have to hide the fact from parents and doctors, wouldn’t it be better for them? What effect does criminalisation have on our ability to treat mentally ill people who also smoke cannabis? Does it not push their problems into the shadows?

 

Day 104

It’s thursday again : 15 weeks!
Today was spent in bed due to what feels like a viral illness. Time to rest. I am sharing with you a beautiful passage sent to me by one of my many lovely virtual friends.
“As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”

redditor, GSnow from http://both-and.me/schizo/