In May of 1978, one of Siddha Yoga Dham’s  security guards hustled two teen-aged boys down the center row and once at the feet of the guru Swami Muktananda handed him a baggie. The Hindu meditation master opened the baggie, immersed his face, took a deep breath, carefully closed it and held it at arms length in front of him and said to about 50 people in a courtyard in Ganeshpuri, India:  “You don’t know how to smoke this.”

As I watched Baba bust the two teen-age boys by giving them extra “seva” or work in the ashram and hand the bag to Noni, his attendant, I was mildly shocked by the scene. As a “joker, a smoker and midnight toker”, I had spent years enjoying stinkweed. Through the months of hanging out with Baba and company, the less I smoked.  The understanding I imbibed was smoking and drinking got in the way of your meditation and therefore bliss. I had been completely clean for over a year, but in the days that followed a nagging question arose in my mind. If Baba said you don’t know how to smoke pot, doesn’t he have to be talking from his own experience? I considered Baba at this moment as the essence of a God-man, a completely realized meditation master. In retrospect, as a “fallen” Catholic, I traded Jesus for Baba. Ergo, pot and Baba didn’t compute.

Thirty years later, sitting in my car, smoking some ganga called “girl scout cookie” on a New Hampshire bluff overlooking the ocean, I recalled this incident. Baba’s message was simple yet powerfully compelling: “See God in each other. God dwells within you as you.” The means to achieve “God” was chanting and meditation. As I sat with a good sized buzz, I was suddenly moved to turn off Leonard Skynard, open the windows, sit with my back straight and feel the very beginning, the journey and end of one breath at a time. I intensified my focus on the sense of touch throughout my body. As I “watched” the energy of my out breath go upward it felt like an implanted vibrator had been switched on inside my forehead. The intensity of the pleasure in and around my third eye, compelled me to watch the outbreath exit from that space.

After some time my focus shifted and I opened my eyes to watch the waves crash on the rocks twenty feet below. I began to laugh as I remembered what we did after a few tokes in the 70s. Crank the volume on Led Zeppelin, break open a bag of Famous Amos or Lay’s and let’s get it on. Body and mind frantically seeking pleasure of anything outside: be it sight, sound, food, drink or getting laid. No one was complaining but it begs the question: “Are you getting the most out of your stoner experience?”

I am not suggesting anyone go out and buy a bag of the magic smoke but 10.8% of Americans admit to an occasional toke or two. You know who you are. You also may have asked yourself in the middle of the haze: “Hey, is this all there is?” I mean how many times can you listen to Marley singing “Kaya” or your best friend solve the 18 greatest problems in the world before you say, “who is afraid of the silence?”

Getting in touch with your own Being, finding the space of stillness between the breaths or just reveling in the petals of a flower or shape of a cloud is nature bringing you in. Next time you spark one or eat that brownie try listening to a breath and be.

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