Monday, 18 May 2015

OLS Reflections Sixteen



OLS Reflections Sixteen by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul

  • Sometimes I wake up feeling happy for no reason, then I remember a few.

  • Find your inner self first, then you can find a soul mate to share it with. Other than that, you may be wasting time — yours and theirs. 

  • Some people get bored; others get creative.

  • Make it a habit to break a habit every once in a while. You’ll feel rejuvenated.

  • The more you know yourself, the more you’ll love your own company.

  • People who like to get totally hammered every weekend usually do so because they don’t like what they do during the week — be it working, studying, or getting bored.

  • The fear of remaining single all their lives makes many people “settle for less”.

  • I wonder what makes us uncomfortable to walk, jog, or drive next to strangers who are going at the same pace that we either have to slow down or speed up.

  • Happy people seem to always have good energy and tend to have more influence.


  • Whenever someone tells me “You’ve made my day” it makes my day.

OLS Reflections Sixteen by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul


ALSO VIEW:


OLS Reflections


OLS Reflections Deux

OLS Reflections Vier

OLS Reflections Khamsa

OLS Reeflections Yedi

OLS Reflections 八

OLS Reflections Ten

OLS Reflections Onze

OLS Reflections 13

OLS Reflections Quince

OLS Reflections Sixteen

OLS Reflections Dix-Huit

OLS Reflections تسعة عشر

OLS Reflections Veinte Uno

OLS Reflections 22

OLS Reflections Dreiundzwanzig

OLS Reflections Twenty-Four

OLS Reflections Vingt-Six

OLS Reflections Ventisette

OLS Reflections Veintinueve
 
OLS Reflections 30

OLS Reflections Einunddreißig

OLS Reflections  إثنان وثلاثون

OLS Reflections Thirty-Three

OLS Reflections Trentaquattro

OLS Reflections 37

OLS Reflections Trente-Neuf

OLS Reflections Forty  

OLS Reflections Einundvierzig

OLS Reflections — The Spiritual Edition 

OLS Reflections Cuarenta y Cuatro

OLS Reflections 45

OLS Reflections Quarantasette

OLS Reflections — The Unpublished Edition

OLS Reflections Forty-Nine

OLS Reflections 50 

OLS Reflections Cincuenta y Dos

OLS Reflections Cinquantaquattro

OLS Reflections पचपन 

OLS Reflections 57

OLS Reflections Cinquante-Neuf
 

OLS Reflections Sesenta y Uno
 

OLS Reflections ثلاثة وستون 

OLS Reflections Soixante-Cinq

OLS Reflections 67

OLS Reflections Sixty-Eight 

OLS Reflections 69 
 
OLS Reflections Settanta­quattro
 
 
 

 
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Friday, 15 May 2015

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Officer Roberts



Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Officer Roberts by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul


Following the first article in the Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’ series, The Coke Prank, here is the second about an actual friendship that developed between an LAPD officer and myself. 


At some point last Saturday at the Venice Beach Drum Circle I saw a cop coming down from his car. He moved around for a bit, asking a few drummers if they were fine. Usually while drumming my eyes are closed, however, somehow I can see whats going on around. I subtly smiled, though not to him directly, before I saw him return to his vehicle.

This caught my attention as it was not a usual sight in Venice Beach or at the Drum Circle. But I didnt know what it was about. Plus, the copper was a new face in the area, so I guess that drew my attention even more.

Another hour, I could see through the corner of my eye two police vehicles encircling us. It didnt seem like a normal check, it was more like they were screening us. Thats because the officers in both cars were talking, then each cars took a cruise around us, then they met further to talk again. Something was happening.

This Saturday, we decided to stop drumming maybe 15 minutes before the sunset. I even told the guys jokingly that we really dont have to wait till the very last minute to do so every time. Its OK to stop by ourselves and not only when they cops come to tell us so.



As we were wrapping, one police car approached us and both officers came down and headed towards us. Strange. Why are they here if we’re done before the sunset? One of them was the new one I saw earlier checking up on the guys.

Both men came closer, but the new one led the conversation. Officer Roberts is a white man in his mid-late 20s, tall with blond hair, and has a warm, pleasant face your long-time neighbour would have.

Hey guys, I know you are the ones in charge, as you are the drummers and people come to see you play, so were trying to work something out here. We want your cooperation on Sundays to stop the circle when the sun goes down and the cops come. I really like that you guys have fun here, its good for Venice and the tourists love it. But you know what happened a few days ago, so these days security is going to be tight.”

He meant the shooting of an unarmed 29-year-old Venice man, Brendon K. Glenn, by the police a few days prior.


This is when a couple of drummers intervened, mentioning Brendon whom they knew. I only recognised him later when I saw his pic. Officer Roberts showed his sympathy and said that the case is still being investigated. He also said that they don't know much details and there is some kind of obscurity around the whole incident. 

According to the L.A Times, the security video has not been publicly released. So he may be right. Its worth noting that this is the second fatal shooting by the Los Angeles Police Department of an unarmed, homeless black man in just over two months. So the tension between the ‘us’ and ‘them’ may be on the rise these days. Hence, they are asking us to cooperate. Not that I suddenly became a homeless black man myself, but I know you get my gist in a jiffy. 

Tomorrow they will be more police cars around the circle so I though I would come talk to you guys,” he resumed.



Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Officer Roberts by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul
Would Brendon Glenn Dizzle’ ever be the last unarmed
homeless man of colour to be shot by
the LAPD? Photo taken on Saturday, May 16 on the Boardwalk.

By that time, I was already captivated by the openness of the man and the way he approached us. After all, most cops, as well as most people, still think in terms of ‘us’ and ‘them’ — and the shootings that keep happening are certainly not helping.

For me personally, knowing that we are all essentially One, I want to transcend this ‘us’ and ‘them’ ideology. I really do. So whenever I see an opportunity I jump right in. The system may be full of holes, but down deep inside, behind labels and uniform, they are human beings... just like you and me.

Other than The Coke Prank about another cool colleague of officer Roberts, Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Sergeant Pepper and the latest Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Evolution followed 
 
So first off, I thanked the man for being who he is and for coming right there in the open to explain the situation to us. Then I introduced myself with my first name, saying that Im a writer who lives in the area. I proceeded by agreeing with him that the outsiders, who usually come on Sundays, are the ones who sometimes tend to ruin it for everyone else.

Further proving the point, I told him that my own phone was stolen from the circle on that last Sunday. I also told him that when first moving to the area last year, I was not particularly happy with the cops heavy presence around the Drum Circle.

A fellow drummer then intervened, mentioning that the shooting had nothing to do with the Circle as some people believe. Office Roberts agreed, but said that ‘They’ lump the whole thing together when it comes to Venice Beach, the Drum Circle, and violence.

Hm. But how is that fair, I wonder.  


Freddy, another fellow drummer told officer Roberts: “OK, if we cooperate can you leave us regather by the water when everyone leaves, just a few of us?”

The man said he cannot promise now but hell definitely talk to his superior. We explained that sometimes one of the officers allows it, then another comes later to say that we have to leave. No communication between them is what creates the issue. We said that they had told us multiple times that personally they dont have a problem but it's the neighbours who complain from the noise; therefore the further we go towards the water, it should be OK.

After all, we all know its not illegal. And according to some of my new buddies who have been attending the Drum Circle for more than 35 years, to stop when the sun goes down is a relatively new thing. Apparently they used to play till 2 am not so long ago. So.

Again, the fine officer promised to help out, explaining that his superior is in one of the vehicle further away watching us. “They know I like talking to people, so they sent me here to talk to you guys,” he said.

We need more people like you; we are all humans,” I responded. 

Thank you. OK then see you tomorrow.

Thank YOU. Bye.


I have to say I was quite impressed by the manners of the man. Many police officers have ego problems so they dont talk or communicate eye to eye. They somehow believe that they are in power and totally forget that initially they are public servants who are here to protect and serve. Others may be shy.

Luckily, though, not all of them are like that and every now and then we bump into cool, rational, humane ones like officer Roberts. 



— ☙ ❊ ❧ —— ☙ ❊ ❧ —— ☙ ❊ ❧ —


A little later, a few drummers and I gathered by the patio on the boardwalk and this was when I saw the man again. I then remembered that I wanted to let his colleague know about the Coke Prank article I had written about her. I thought maybe also I could get her name to add it. So, I went towards him, briefly telling him the story and giving him and his partner the name of the article, the name of the blog, and my full name.

When the subject of the recent shooting of Brendon Glenn was brought up again, I recall him telling me that in every profession there are the good and the bad. I agreed. However, I was about to say that when the burger flipper, or the janitor or the sales exec mess up, people do not die in the process. Though I did not, perhaps because I felt its too common sense; perhaps because I was happy to talk to the man and didnt want to add any awkwardness.

We chatted for another 10 minutes then we parted ways. I believe this may be the longest time I have spoken to a single American cop.

For a moment afterwards I felt weird giving my info like that to the authorities. And then I reminded myself that they are humans being who go online and check blogs and stuff. I want them to know that some of us appreciate them for who they are. I really hope they get to read these lines.

Besides, I am who I am. So getting to know that Im an Eclectic Sapiosexual Philomath Logoleptic Lexophile Bohemian Psychonaut should be completely fine. Ha.



As I was heading to my bike, I saw two guys whom I saw talking to officer Roberts earlier during the circle. One was drinking and the other was smoking but was totally wasted.

Did you get a ticket?” I asked the drinking one.

“The officer told me, give me the bottle and I wont ticket you.

Yeah, he seems like a good guy.

Yeah, officer Roberts
,” he smilingly said.  


I was quite surprised that the homeless man already knew his name. I had already decided that I was going to write about the whole thing so I eyed his name tag twice. But for the drunk guy to retain the name of the new officer, he must have been equally impressed.

“He gave me a ticket for smoking, but I was hslnkdhdshjfhsvdklnkD @#$%^!&*()j,” the other one whos always wasted mumbled incoherently.

I think you out of all people deserve it, dude.

Goodnight, Brothers.”



— ☙ ❊ ❧ —— ☙ ❊ ❧ —— ☙ ❊ ❧ —


On Sunday, I went late to the Drum Circle. At some point, officer Roberts came by to check the area, we locked eyes and he headed towards me to say ‘Hi, Omar’. We shook hands and I went back to drumming. Of course some people were looking at me, not really understanding what they had just witnessed. One of ‘us’ and one of ‘them’ amicably greeting each other

An outsider I have never met before even came to inquire:

Whats that about?”

I explained to him that we spoke yesterday about wanting to wrap the circle seamlessly as soon as the sun goes down since we want to keep things on the down low these days because of what had happened.

Why, bro? But now...  .” He sounded like he was objecting and started to rant. 

This is when I didnt feel the need to even listen to what this stranger dude had to say. I closed my eyes and went back to the drumming world. 

Again on Sunday, I stopped playing before the time was up. Before leaving I thought I would tell officer Roberts and say goodbye. He was standing right there with a partner. I shook hands and said see you next week. To my surprise, however, he said he wont be here and that hell be off to Chicago.

Oh well, the good ones always leave.

We need more of you,” I told him again as we bid farewell.


You see, good guys are good guys, anywhere. I could see it after a couple of interactions, the homeless man could also see it. And as I mentioned in the Coke Prank article, since most of the times Im against what cops do and how they behave, when I encounter some of them acting so differently I feel compelled to let them, and you, know. 


All We Are Saying Is Give Peace A Chance.


More please.


Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Officer Roberts by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul
Give Peace a Chance with one eclectic mix posing for my camera at the VBDC: 
Cool Steve Engel is a former Assistant Professor of Aerospace Engineering who goes to Burning Man, Officer Roberts, then Kady (R), and Bo (L)



EDIT [Sunday 7 June 2016]:


Today at the circle, officer Roberts and I met again and said ‘Hi’. He asked if I have Twitter so I can share the article with the LAPD 911 account, since they have 50K followers which will generate more views. He even got his phone out of his pocket to show me their page.

I told him that I dont but I can share it with them on Facebook, and thanked him for the thought. He really seems to be a genuinely nice guy.

So did you like the article?” I asked.

Yes I did, I read it all. My mom loved it.

How splendid.

I hope shes proud of her son.

We then said goodbye and parted ways. Of course, onlookers were once again baffled by what just happened. As for myself, I like knowing that a man like him is in the force. I also like to have him as a new friend. Glad to have written this article.



— ☙ ❊ ❧ —— ☙ ❊ ❧ —— ☙ ❊ ❧ —


EDIT [JULY 2016]:


One afternoon, I was walking along the Venice Boardwalk with my aunt and cousin. The California weather was spectacular, and it was their first time visiting the area in years. As we strolled, I was casually explaining to them how Venice Beach had somehow become my second home — a place where I now walked around exchanging hellos left and right, precisely as if I were navigating the familiar streets of Zamalek back in Cairo.

Right as the sentence left my mouth, an LAPD cruiser started crawling toward us. The blazing Pacific sun was dead in my eyes, blinding me completely until the vehicle pulled up right beside our group.

Hey, Omar!,” a voice called out from inside.

I squinted. “Hey, Brother!

The fog cleared. It was Officer Roberts — the cool cop I had written an article about some time back; which I later found out his mother had absolutely loved reading.

Turning to my family, I introduced him: “This is Officer Roberts. The cool buddy I wrote that article about, which his mother loved reading.

I haven’t seen you down by the drum circle lately, man.”

Yeah, I’m cruising more on the perimeter these days, Roberts replied while leaning out the window. But I’ll be there next Sunday. And I actually want to talk to you about something that’s been bothering me there,” he told me.

Sure, mate,” I said, my curiosity instantly piqued.


As we wrapped up and I wished him a safe shift, he looked directly at my aunt and cousin and with total sincerity said, “You’ve got an awesome nephew-slash-cousin here.”

Oooh. Talk about immaculate timing.

Both women seemed elated, their faces lighting up with massive smiles — especially my 75-year-old aunt, who beamed with what appeared like pride.

Once the cruiser rolled away, I turned to them and pointed out the sheer, uncanny irony of the moment. You know you are navigating reality somewhat efficiently when, despite a lifetime of deeply entrenched anti-establishment views and writings, as well as a general organic distaste for authority and policing, the LAPD publicly validates your existence as “awesome” and actively solicits your neighbourhood mediation skills. Who would have thunk, really?! We laughed and laughed about how the reality of the matter turned out.
It was a beautifully upside-down puzzle piece of cosmic comedy.
Why? Because Coincidentia Oppositorum — the Unity of Opposites — demands that you look at both sides of the coin. Things, however, were not always this peaceful. Just a mere year earlier in the Valley of L.A, things were singing quite a different tune, as recounted in Stop-n-Search That Hippy (2014). 

Go back a bit further in Canada, and you find Banged Up Abroad — My Few Days @ The Don Jail (2011). 

Strip it back even further to 1999 England, and it’s Banged Up Abroad — A Night @ The London Police Station.

From handcuffs and steel bars to public praise and collaborative neighbourhood peacekeeping on the sand dunes. Talk about a cosmic evolution.
— ☙ ❊ ❧ —
Following such an unexpected encounter, the ladies and I walked a bit further, exchanging a few more casual pleasantries with the local Boardwalk vendors, before finally settling into a seaside cafe for a snack.

When Roberts and I crossed paths about ten days later, he filled me in on the issue: a lingering misunderstanding between himself and Freddy — the regular drummer and VBDC buddy mentioned above. I promised I’d look into it, and I did. A quick, grounded conversation with Freddy was all it took to clear the air. Eventually, they made peace, the friction dissolved, and the collective rhythm of the beach remained completely undisturbed.

Not long after that, Roberts disappeared from the Venice rotation. When I eventually flagged down a few officers to ask about his whereabouts, they informed me he had been promoted. I was genuinely happy for him, merrily telling his colleagues, “Well, they always take the good ones first.”

I hope his mother is still proud of him.



*
This Attempting To Bridge The Gap article remains one of a four-part series that I truly enjoyed conjuring into existence.



—————————————————————


Also View:


Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: The Coke Prank

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Sergeant Pepper

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Evolution 

Losing It 𝘉𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘺 At Full Lunacy: First Burst of Anger in Over 12 Years (2026)

A Year at the Venice Beach Drum Circle in Photos (2014-’15)

Another Year at the Venice Beach Drum Circle in Photos & Videos (2016-’17)

One More Year at the Venice Beach Drum Circle in Photos & Videos (2017-’18)

Stop-n-Search That Hippy

Banged Up Abroad — My Few Days @ The Don Jail

Banged Up Abroad — A Night @ The London Police Station

Retrieving Phone — Through Tracking App — From Some Thug Who Found It

When Bullying my Sister Led to Shutting Her School Down With a Rambo Knife

The Night We Turned ‘Beast Mode’ On

The Bloke Who Thought I’m Too Much of an Alpha Male

How Drumming Changed The Way My Brain Processes Music: Underworld Live at the Hollywood Bowl

Drum Circle Etiquette — The Do’s and Don’ts

The Intertwining of Music and Sexuality ― A Djembefola’s Tale
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Friday, 8 May 2015

Opiated Then Hatin’ It




“An addict is someone who uses their body to tell society that something is wrong.”
— Stella Adler
 
 

When I was run over by a car while biking last week in Venice Beach, I went to the ER to clean my wounds and get some pain killers. After almost four hours, I was finally discharged, though I was asked to pay a wacky $400. Yeah. You can read the full story in Dreaming of the Accident Before it Happened.

Having been given a 5 mg Percocet (Oxycodone) half an hour before leaving the hospital, when I went later to get the meds I didn’t feel the need to take from the Hydrocodone they had prescribed. It was already 10 pm and I was going to bed soon. They also prescribed a muscle relaxant (Flexeril) and Naproxen. So I only took one Flexeril and dozed off. 

I slept OK that night, but I woke with more pain all over my body. This was the day I thought I have every right to get opiated — or more colloquially, medicated. This was going to be the first time in quite a while. For an opiate connoisseur, or more bluntly a recovering addict who for many years has delved to the guts into this class of drugs, this may seem like a lovely reunion. Or is it?


After my early coffee I had eggs a little later, getting myself mentally ready for The Day. In a weird turn of event, I decided to look inside my toiletry bag and found a long lost 1-mg Xanax pill. Due to my high tolerance to pretty much everything, I wanted to potentiate the effects of the pain killer, so I thought to take it. Even though years later after my heydays, this is not the dose that would really affect me. But since it has just appeared out of nowhere on that specific day, then let’s get it over with. I also took three Flexeril.

Another 45 minutes and I took a few pills of 5/325 Hydrocodone. The reason behind this wait time is that the benzos and muscle relaxants are better taken before the opiates for full effects. The opiate is strong that it usually blocks the effects of the potentiators if taken afterwards, which ends up by not really feeling the effects.

In Egypt, the street name for this procedure is called  (تبطين - يبطن ), meaning ‘coating’.

The main problem with those specific pills with the low doses of opiates is that with every 5 mg of Hydrocodone you ingest 325 mg of Paracetamol/Acetaminophen. Generally, most medium-strength prescribed opiates contain an NSAID (nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs) to prevent abuse and to, in some cases, aid the intended purpose of the medication.

Stronger opioids, however, like Morphine, Hydromorphone, Methadone, Diamorphine (heroin), Oxymorphone, Levorphanol, Buprenorphine, Fentanyl do not contain APAP.


Opiated Then Hatin’ It by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul
Carfentanil at the very end is tens of thousands of times stronger than morphine and is used to sedate large animals like elephants. After there is (3R,4S,beta-S)-13-fluoro ohmefentanyl, which is almost double the potency of Carfentanyl. 


It is known that large quantities of acetaminophen are bad for the liver and totally unwanted in case the dose requires a large number of pills, as well as in the case of recreational usage. This was exactly why I didn’t take more H.C, since it’s not advised to take more than 2000 mg of acetaminophen at one time. The FDA sets the safe 24-hour dose limit at 4,000 mg per adult, but some doctors say that it should be reduced to 3,250 per day.

I had heard many times about CWE (Cold Water Extraction) but never needed to do it myself. This is the procedure of removing the acetaminophen from the pills. It is actually pretty simple and there are videos on YouTube showing you how it’s done.

Harm reduction is a healthy concept when we really think about it. Some pain patients are easily prescribed 10 to 12 pills per day... mainly here in America, many of whom are still young. And that’s only one medication, most are prescribed a cocktail of pharmaceuticals. So, not wanting all these fillers to damage their livers, they perform the CWE to get the pure pain killer. 

In my case, I knew I wouldn’t take the meds for more than a few days, so I thought not to dabble with those druggy ways and just swallow them fuckers. Though living the conscious life made me think twice about my liver and all this amount of acetaminophen I’ll be ingesting in those coming days.


Then, in a sheer moment of self-mockery, I remembered how in late 90s Egypt we used to sometimes take a bottle or more of the Alexandria-made magical cough syrup Codaphen (containing both, codeine and ephedrine), followed by 20 pills of the cough med Broncholase (Codeine Phosphate) coupled with 10 pills of the muscle relaxant Somadril (Carisoprodol). This combo could even potentiated with Rohypnol (Roche’s Flunitrazepam). How wacky and reckless.  

Beside the above, other drugs available in the country then were Clonazepam (Roche’s Rivotril, Epitril, and the blue Amotril in Egypt), Dihydrocodeine, Tramadol, Parkinol (Trihexyphenidyl), Ketamine among other less-known pharmaceuticals sold illegally of course. Being street drugs in such parts of the world, some of those medications were expired.

That was even before delving head first into opiates in general and heroin in particular; though I never shot it, or anything else — the reason why hefty doses came to be required along the years. And now, you see, I’m concerned about the FDA daily dose of paracetamol. OThe Times They Are A-changin’.


Opiated Then Hatin’ It by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul
Codaphen was huge in the 80s and 90s before they stopped producing it.
However, the one that got you high was without the (D) seen in the picture.
Somadril (Carisoprodol) is still big in third world
countries and it is more potent than Flexeril.


So, don’t play sissy on me please”, I said to myself. Also, I am in pain after all, and those meds are prescribed to kill that pain.

Alright then, time to chillax. All pills swallowed, followed by a smoke, tea, and some music.

I stayed in my room, awaiting the effects which must have started at some point. I was mid writing a new piece and didn’t really feel the time. Maybe an hour later, I got up from my chair to find that my body wasn’t aching as it was in the morning. Aha. Opiates. Bloody Magick!

I spent the day around the house writing and listening to Pink Floyd’s Animals and some Dire Straits — trying to relive the memories of those smokey years that seemed so distant, almost like an earlier life in my incarnation. I attempted to go that place, and I did. Though due to the moderate dose it was only a short visit. And that means no itching or nodding, which in my case as I found out, only happens when the dose is over 40 mg of H.C. 


The next day, I woke up by 11 am, that is three full hours later than usual. Then I pretty much did the same thing with slightly lower doses. And this is where I kind of went wrong.

The following day, I woke by 10 with sticky eyes and a body not in much pain but feeling lethargic. This was when I decided to drop all the meds and go back to my healthy lifestyle. There was still some aching from the accident, but I chose to just deal with it naturally.

Mind wise, I was still slightly buzzed till mid day. I didn’t take anything later and went to sleep by the usual 11:30. I went to pee by 3 am then back to bed but I stayed awake for a while. Aha...Withdrawals. Really? Waow.

Hey there, bitches. I haven’t missed you at all.

I then gathered that including the single pill I had taken at the ER the night of the accident, this would be the first night after three days of sleeping opiated. Oh well, I certainly didn’t plan to get into some kind of cycle.

I must say that at the time in bed I was not in any kind of pain or suffering or sweating or any of that serious shit. I was also not worried about my next dose. It’s just that, having been there tens, if not hundreds of times, I’m quite familiar with the procedure of withdrawals. The body and nervous system seem to remember — even years later. And now being clean and healthy for a long time, I’m highly sensitive and can detect the slightest of changes when it comes to the body or health in general.

I remembered then the Naproxen which I had not even tried. I knew it’s for pain, though having doubled the doses on those two nights, I didn’t see any need for it. I got up from bed, searched for it the darkness, and took one. Then, a flashback invaded my mind...

This time of the night... waking up in the dark sweating, anxious and uneasy... reaching for anything that could ease my pain. A memory deeply engraved in my mind that I thought I had discarded somewhere up there.

Interestingly, I then remembered how I was just telling a buddy of mine who have had a similar path that people who have never experienced opiates withdrawals wouldn’t really feel them as much as we do. That is because the addicted mind usually makes the symptoms much worse by linking it to pain and suffering, which triggers more pain and suffering. Again, one becomes  overly sensitive. 

Consider someone who never got hooked on opiates took similar dosage, and they woke up sleepless in the middle of the night, they will not register this as a “withdrawal symptom”. They will simply perceive it as someone waking up in the middle of the night like it happens to many people. Consequently, their symptoms will pass much faster than in my case. Simply because they will not obsess about them. 

In truth, the simple action of overthinking the withdrawal symptoms triggers more symptoms. And it’s all about chemicals in the brain.

More on the Placebo Effect and the remarkable power of our own minds is covered in my upcoming book.

Opiated Then Hatin’ It by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul
Early 1900s

After a total of one hour of this mid-night self-talk, I fell asleep. I woke up fine on Saturday morning and it was Drum Circle time.

I took the drum, the chair, got on the bike, and headed towards the beach. On the way on Abbot Kinney, I felt my leg muscle hurting a little. Not from the bruises caused by the accident. Not that sweet pain caused by exercise. But a certain weakness coming from inside the muscle itself.

It is like I was conscious of the cells in there and could feel they are tired; it is like they had a mind of their own and I was in touch with this microcosm of an inner world. And the signals it kept sending me was that it was not happy, somewhat exhausted even. 

Even though hate is a strong word that I seldom use, but I really did hate this low frequency I was left with. 

Not only that, but there was an overall fatigue and I was slightly out of breath, too. Hmm. I have been jogging few times a week for several years now and use the bike daily, and haven’t felt this shortness of breath in a loooong time. I did miss my jogging this week following the accident, but it’s definitely not enough to make me feel weaker or out of breath. Well. Of course it’s the opiates. 

This brief “Muscular dystrophy” sensation coupled with the foggy mind felt so familiar that in those 12 minutes from home to the beach I sort of relived seven years of my life.

And you were living opiated like that for years? Waow. You must have hated your reality to want to alter it in such a way. Was there so much pain that you needed to block by self-medicating with pain killers?

Some questions came to mind as I reflected upon my wild past.

Years later, the exposé The Intertwining of Pain and Pleasure (2022) here on One Lucky Soul came to follow as the third piece of the series. 


Opiated Then Hatin’ It by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul
Fruit Cocktail

Later on, being here in the U.S made me think of the millions who are hooked on doctor-prescribed Big Pharma pills. Whether it’s Oxys (essentially synthetic heroin), Dilaudid, Opana, Percocet, Norco, Vicodin; or Xanax, Klonopin, Valium; or even those muscle relaxants. All these substances are addictive.

In fact, the U.S, which consists of five percent of the world’s population, consumes 80 percent from the world’s prescription drugs! Actually, according to the CDC (Centers for Disease Control), in 2010 alone enough opiates were prescribed to medicate every American adult around the clock for a month. No wonder there are so many zombies around. 

So would some of said users be able to ‘beat’ their addiction? Or because it’s funded by the government and the dealers are wearing lab coats it remains easier and more convenient to just live with it... perhaps all their lives?

I further pondered the distinction between dependence on a street drug like heroin, which you have to score, and a pharmaceutical — or alcohol — which you legally (or not) buy and keep on your shelf.

Having gone both ways, I can say that having to score every day from the street is a huge risky setback. Because of the junkie lifestyle however, most people usually don’t stay in it much. They either die, go to prison, or quit. Or, of course, replace it with another substance that is easier and possibly also legal to purchase, like Buprenorphine [Subutex/Suboxone) or Methadone before it — whether as a long-term treatment or for “maintenance”. Others replace the substance of choice with alcohol, which is a whole different animal since it is pretty much found everywhere, even glamourised in literature and movies. 

The luxury for those depending on pharmaceuticals is that they don’t experience the even darker side of securing their daily doses. They lack all the adventure and the thrill of the street-life scoring. They wake up to take a pill or two or six — as instructed [or not]. The pills never change potency and, usually, there are no different types or strains, only brand names. Also the dealer doesn’t cut the shit up. And certainly, there are no different effects, for tolerance is tolerance anywhere; unless of course they mix with other pills or sneak every now and then by doubling or tripling their usual dose. 

Lately, in fact, certain Europeans countries have harm-reduction programs offering free heroin prescriptions to serious and long-term addicts as a way to improve their living conditions. Also to minimise the damage regarding fatal overdoses among other related health issues. Now that is quite the progressive step. Could the United Sates one day follow or is there too much money involved in the field?   

Much more about addiction is also covered in a full sub-chapter of my upcoming book.

Opiated Then Hatin’ It by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul
Right after accident before going to the E.R

Back to the aftermath of those few days. The following night I got myself ready by taking one Naproxen and a muscle relaxant right before bed. Again at 3, I woke up to pee and, hm... I stayed up for maybe 15 minutes before dosing off again.

Having only been the second night I spend un-opiated, this made sense. With lower doses, the physical cycle of the withdrawals stays around four nights — the second night being the worse, then the third, then finally the fourth. You wake up the fifth morning clean and ready. Now it’s time to score again! This is how the psychological cycle makes addicts take again and again and again.

Remembering William Osler’s quote: “The person who takes medicine must recover twice, once from the disease, and once from the medicine.”

With opiates, the serious physical symptoms of the ‘medicine’ are usually gone by five days to one week. It’s the ‘disease’ that causes all the trouble, because many users don’t heal from it. They believe that it’s all about the substance. So they detox and quit the substance, which is not the hardest of things. But then they relapse again because they never reach the bottom of the issue of why there is a ‘disease’ in the first place. Without this step, there is no healing, and most probably they will keep going around in circles. Depending on the case, full recovery may sometimes take up to a year. 


The brief taste of the toxic lifestyle my friends and I were living brought back many memories I haven’t pondered in quite a while. They made me feel so grateful to be where I am today. I don’t need to hide from my reality because I’ve created one that I love. I love being conscious of each and every moment. I love waking up fresh in the morning without fuzzy thoughts and without pain in my joints like an old man. I love not needing something so obsessively. I love not having any pain to feel the need to “kill it”. And I sure love being free.

I certainly do not miss the overall tiredness, the pain in the muscles and joints, the shortness of breath, the feeling of being drained, the lack of energy, waking up in the middle of the night breakdancing in bed for hours, the white face, the occasional shivering cold down your spine, the lower back pain, the chills, the goosebumps, the hot flashes, the runny nose and eyes, the selective appetite, the constipation/diarrhea, the feeling of being barely alive and of alienation, the mood swings and depression. I don’t miss any of that. At all. Who would, really. And I could have kept going on with more horrid stuff.

So despite the possibility of being fun for one night or two, numbing myself may not be that much of a thrill anymore. Largely, and honestly, because of the nasty after-effects.

Fortunately, a couple of days were more than enough of a reminder that such habit or lifestyle do not suit me anymore. Not that I still had any doubts after these years, but sometimes life seems to offer us little reminders along the way to reinforce our belief in ourselves. Looking back at my own life as I write these lines, I couldn’t help but to feel proud of myself and of the journey from where I once was to where I am today. I also couldn’t help holding a few happy tears flowing down my cheeks.

Not only is my current healthy, natural lifestyle good for me, but it also makes me happy and at peace. Because the primary purpose behind eating healthy, exercising, and living the conscious life in general is feeling good rather than looking good. Now I have found ways to get naturally high, like running, drumming and meditation. For natural highs don’t have lows. Now I vibrate at higher frequencies. And if I can do this, anyone can.


What a ride that I would never exchange for ANYTHING. 



“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.”
― Lao Tzu




EDIT: (January, 2016):


After publishing this piece I received a message from a reader in Egypt, Sherif, asking for help. We remained in touch for a while before writing about it in: Addiction Talk: My Correspondence With a 31-Year-Old Reader Before He Passed Away. I guess the title gives the heart-wrenching story away.

Links to others pieces about drugs, addiction, and altered states can be found below. 




ALSO VIEW:


The LSD Experiments of the 1950s and 60s [Videos & Documentaries] 

Surviving the Madness of Sakarana — Hyoscyamus muticus (aka Deadly Nightshade)

Out-of-Body Experience and Ego Death on a “Heroic Dose” of Mushrooms 


Addiction Talk: My Correspondence With a 31-Year-Old Reader Before He Passed Away

Amphetamine, Methamphetamine, and Crystal Methamphetamine — A Psychonaut’s Review  

Dance With Your Demons

The Intertwining of Pain and Pleasure
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Wednesday, 6 May 2015

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Stain on the Levi's Shirt



Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Stain on the Levi's Shirt by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul

*All articles part of the Memoirs of an Incognito Friend series are intended for a mature audience. Viewer discretion is advised. 


During his mid-teens, my buddy was once home alone watching a movie with his girlfriend. Amid the action, they naturally started making out and ended up in his room.

A while later, his dad came home to find the movie — The Bodyguard — still playing and the boy's Levi's Red Tab denim shirt laying there on the couch. Of course the scene was pretty obvious for his well-seasoned dad. A couple of minutes later, the dad called his son, without opening the door or disturbing his privacy. The boy came out wearing whatever he could, yet still looking...clothed. 

In a somewhat serious tone, his dad said:

I'm going down for a bit then I want to have a word with you.”

Hm. Well, it was pretty obvious what it was going to be about. Not that the dad was close-minded or anything, but, apparently, he had something to say about what he had witnessed.


Being an unmedicated thinker, the boy wanted to find a way out...as usual. So, he thought of a reason why would his shirt be out there on the couch in front of the T.V while he's in the room behind a closed door. Knowing that he was trying to outwit his wily father, the most brilliant idea he could think of at the time was to drop some ketchup on the white shirt, clean it for a little bit, yet not remove the stain completely, and leave it as it was on the couch.

The scenario of eating while watching a movie with your girlfriend then dropping ketchup on your shirt seemed quite believable. Who doesn't drop ketchup on their shirt at some point, right?

My mate proceeded with the plan then went down to take his girlfriend home, in a cab. Yes, he was a gentleman. I think he still is. Once back, he realized that his dad was already in his bedroom. So he deducted that the old man might/must have seen the the stained shirt, which clears him from this victimless crime. But, he wasn't too sure and went to bed wondering what might tomorrow bring.

A day passed, then another and then another, and his dad hadn't opened the subject. This is very unlike the man who never forgot stuff like that. This is when the boy knew he was successful. This is when he found out that with a healthy dose of smarts there is always a way to get away with things, especially when down deep inside you believe you didn't really do anything wrong.


Until the next adventure of my incognito friend.




ALSO VIEW:


Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Woman Who Came Again — 24 Years Later 

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Caught Hiding Under The Sink... Naked

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Affair With an Older Married Woman

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: 22 Years Later — Once Teenagers Now Adults

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Neighbour’s Lustful Guest

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Ten Days with a Charming Older Woman

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Another Sex Party 

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Mother of Six Who Drove for 50 Hours

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: A Woman, Her Girlfriend, and the Girlfriend’s Friend

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Threesome With Two Virgins

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Sex Party 

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Three Girls, One Perfume 

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The 17-Year-Old Lebanese Belly Dancer


Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Reliving a One-Night Stand...13 Years Later

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Nine-Months-Pregnant Woman

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Girl Who Came

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Stain on the Levi’s Shirt

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Italian Belly Dancer
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Saturday, 2 May 2015

The Significance of Letting Go



The Significance of Letting Go by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul

Whether it’s a hateful happening, a dead-end job, a toxic relationship or a lifeless life, every painful experience we have endured has helped form the person we are today. 
Initially, most psychological issues and complexes adults suffer from stem from things which had happened to them in their past as children or teenagers. Whatever it was, accepting those experiences, learning from them, even cherishing some of them, is the way to get past them.

Once these few steps are achieved, it’s time to let go. Let go of the victim mentality; of all the self-generated, unwanted thoughts about that which had happened — or whatever else you may consider ‘negative’. Not by fighting them, but rather by observing. By doing so, we instantly separate ourselves from the thoughts, and snap out of it by cultivating more positive ones and insist on doing so. If we don’t, the negative will start to remanifest itself in our minds and has the potential of getting worse. As the Zen proverb reminds us: “Let go or be dragged.”


To be able to grow to our Higher Self ― as opposed to our ego self ― throughout this mystical journey called Life and reach the Light, letting go becomes an essential part. We let go of all that is not us; all that weighs us down like conditioning, attachments, expectations, prejudices, judgments, stereotypes, and emotional fixations ― the things which stopped serving the growth and evolution of our soul.




If we really want to spread our wings and fly high, we must drop those crippling burdens overboard. The heaviest part of us is our ego ― always asking us to be someone or something, never sacrificing itself. This dead weight makes our excursion through life much slower, as it makes us less mobile. But there is no moving forward as long as were clinging to the past, or to our ego. And certainly, there is no freedom. 

People get attached to a wide variety of things. It could be a lost dream, a hope, a substance, a lifestyle, a thought pattern, a relationship, or a person. Essentially, all kinds of attachments drain us. Thus we have no energy left for the ‘positive’, or for any novelty. They make it hard to embrace new things because the mind is filled with the ‘negative’, so there is neither energy nor space for the otherness. To travel light throughout our journey, throwing those burdens away becomes an existential choice.


One earlier article about our attachment to others is Codependency: What Being Addicted to Someone Means. The Parable of the Cow: You Are Not Your Thoughts is another more philosophical one, discussing our attachment to thoughts in particular and the process of letting go of them.


The Significance of Letting Go by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul
Metamorphosis


We only grow when we let go. The reality is, some are stuck in the phase between the caterpillar and the butterfly — or moth. They are no longer the first; yet because they fear the unknown while resisting change, they are not open to the chance of becoming the latter. Potentially, they may waste their entire lives stuck in an eternal “in-waiting” rut, a limbo status. 
 
To fully become who you essentially are at the core is to spread your wings fearlessly and trust that Life will lift you up towards unfathomable heights. You see, taking a bold leap into the unknown means you will either land on a feathered bed or you will learn to fly.

Follow your dreams to where they may lead you. No matter how crazy or seemingly impossible they appear — to you or the world. Yet, be open to the possibility that the road, even the destination, may likely be different than what you had imagined. Then it matters not what actually transpires. For the journey becomes the destination. This is what leading a free and full life is about: Acknowledging the risks of seeking to materialise your dreams, courageously embracing the uncertainty rather than fearing it, and confidently going for the jump anyway.
“Let go or be dragged,” remember. Now fly away.



The truth is, the hardship we experience makes us stronger. It is actually a healthy human experience. For the pain and suffering add us with a new, and usually deeper perspective on life, as well as on our overall existence. It is how we grow through life; how we become. However, when the lesson is learned, it’s time to move on. Much like overthinking the future, dwelling on the past ― or on a specific incident ― never helps. Letting go, on the other hand, does.


Remember, how much weight we give each thought is our choice and our choice alone. This is how we become in control of our state of mind. It goes to the extent of persisting in the positive so intensely that letting go of any depressing or unkind thoughts that may arise comes naturally, without thinking about it. They are simply filtered out, almost unconsciously. 
This is why letting go means letting go of suffering. This is how we mature and grow thicker skin; how we set ourselves free. 


It is worth noting that letting go can only be achieved following getting to the root of the problem — this Aha-Moment. Medications, drugs and alcohol, even time may numb you for a while, but they will not completely heal you. Those are temporary getaways.

To Forgive Is Not To Reconcile is one more article of mine discussing what Buddhism and Psychoanalysis say about letting go when it comes to forgiveness and reconciliation.


One thing remains certain, there is no healing without letting go. We when let go, we grow. Because with letting go come novelty and rejuvenation. 

This self-mastery and self-conquest introduce us to our true Higher Selves. This is the secret of the art of living; the secret to a happy and simple life, which, with practice, anyone is able to reach. Simply, because happiness and peace of mind rely solely on what we think — or not think. They rely on our very own mental state and not on outside factors.

Peace of mind does not mean that life around us is rosy. But rather, we find happiness and inner peace amidst the storm. We surround ourselves with what we love and let go of what does not serve us. The less baggage we carry, the simpler life becomes. The process is an inside job in its purest form. For The Kingdom of Heaven is truly within us, my Dear Ones.  




The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward.”
Steve Maraboli



*Article first published on Conscious Life News.


ALSO VIEW:


Things I Got Rid Of To Become Happier

Letting Go of Getting Offended and Taking Things Personally


Codependency: What Being Addicted to Someone Means

Dealing with High Awareness and Empathic Accuracy

What Is Fear of Abandonment and How to Overcome It

What Is Overcompensation?

What Being Conscious Means

My Journey Towards Self-Transcendence

To Forgive Is Not To Reconcile

The Parable of the Cow: You Are Not Your Thoughts
 
 
 
 
 
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