To be clear, I’m a vigorous advocate of honoring inconvenient intuition for partnering with the unconscious. The mysteries of maintaining communication with one’s deeper self continually present an enticing allure. I’ve also been a bit of a pothead for over thirty years, that is until a few months ago. Flirting with cannabis initially became a frequent pastime during adolescence though the pursuit of so-called “enlightment” temporarily relinquished this boredom relief over the course of a decade. Then it renewed as a crutch to arouse creative motivation. I never toked too much at once but imbibed daily, spurring productive focus with just a few inhalations. However, in the back of my mind lurked a nagging curiosity about what it would take to set aside the psychological dependency. Getting high was my single vice, a deceptive diversion to break the monotony of tedious responsibilities or unstimulating circumstances.

Everything changed unexpectedly in the fall of 2024 after a workout with a fitness client who offered a hit off a joint following the completion of a training session at his place. My inclination was to decline since it’s generally a prudent practice keeping business and pleasure separate but ignored the reservation due to a laborious bike ride ahead of me. I knew it would be best to go straight home but instead stopped at a supermarket and bought a pastry for dessert after dinner, something sweet as a little reward despite considering I could always go to the store the next day.

However, when returning to the sidewalk with a bag of groceries, my heart sank upon seeing my new bike had disappeared. The shock of the empty post greatly unruffled my mood. Of course, the bike was replacable but not until I repaid some loans. So the loss reinforced a reminder of debt. Once again, I was barely scraping by and chastised myself for not double checking the lock to confirm it was properly connected. Maybe it had been secure but I didn’t verify, which meant the doubt beckoned a likelihood of having been absentminded.

During the long slow walk home with a bum left knee, I pondered ignoring my intuition twice – first about taking a toke with the fitness client and then about not stopping at the supermarket. Gradually, it dawned on me that getting high had always served as a way of succumbing to not paying attention in some form or another. Plus, I  discounted my mental lapses since they were compensated for with creative insights. Now, it finally seemed obvious what a warped reprieve this tendency had been and true dedication to honest reckoning with oneself must involve a merciless internal assessment. Consolidating a partnership with the unconscious means taking a hard look at limitations, shame and pain.

Immediately after arriving home, I pulled a Keen Outlook card on the website to see what associations might present themselves. Ironically enough, the stolen bike image popped up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I sat staring at the metaphor with troubled wonderment. Yes, it was an impactful coincidence though much more than that loomed the reaffirmed realization of how I had always used cannabis to excuse absentmindedness and downplay the consequence of disregarding diligence. The bike was one of my few valuable possesions and I took it for granted, a set up for discouragement. Neglecting to stay aware of what’s really important to us invites remorse, a sign of immaturity. The habit of being lackadaisical had led to losing something with significant utility, making life more scant and minimal. The inattentiveness amplified a depleted self-worth and since then the thought of taking a toke is repellant because I was stoned before the upsetting incident. It used to be reassuring that at least I looked okay on a nice new mountain bike rather than the spare dilapidated old hand-me-down in the garage that would now be a main source of local transportation. My petty concern was all about ego and comfort only to get thrust back to a simple necessity. 

Nearly three months have passed and the urge to smoke weed becomes a distant memory every day though there are moments when a desire to indulge arises if restlessness overtakes my outlook but the unpleasant idea of succumbing to absentmindedness inevitably deters the compulsion. Will that always be the case? Probably not, yet for now the lesson appears evident that an intuition addiction is a choice to be healthy, rather than just mollified or occupied for the moment. Resolving emotional discord is more about reconciling blindspots than finding fulfillment. Have I set aside cannabis through shear strength of will or has the metaphor reverberated so profoundly that there’s no room for self-delusion? One thing is certain for the time being – I don’t want to avoid establishing a partnership with the unconscious, even for a moment. The staggering devastation many people suffered from the recent fires that I watched from the bedroom window of my Santa Monica apartment has put the theft of my bike in perspective. Loss is a hallmark of existence. Everything fades either gradually or abruptly, which is why it’s so crucial to relish what we cherish while we can.