So yesterday I was driving home, and I guess I was a little close for comfort to the truck in front of me. 90% of the time, in the mountains, people will pull over and let you pass when you reach a turnout. The neo nazi pulled over and as I passed he yelled "SLOW DOWN N****R!!! We exchanged words and went our ways. I had a dream... Two actually...

#1. I was in a smoke shop and saw a HUGE tam. I asked the guy behind the counter, "How long til I can fit that one? 10 years?"

"I don't know. 20... 50..." he replied.

#2 I was with my mom again and possibly a friend I can't exactly recall. We were walking through a crowd of people and I realized we were at the Rainbow Gathering. My friend and mom weren't too thrilled but I was. I wandered off and when I was comfortable, I held out my arms and started flying just over the crowd. Someone yelled something at me, and while I don't recall what was said, negative or positive, I held my hand behind me and gave them a peace sign as I floated away.

So I guess I'm a long way from Nirvana... Or I need to calm down more...

Dreadlocks show strength, and as mine grow, my psyche becomes less penetrable by negativity. Only strong winds can break an old tree, as it's roots mature. When I see someone with dreadlocks, I see a part of myself. Someone who is either transitioning into a new life, or a strong spirit. Not trying to get all preachy here, but a lot has changed in me since starting my dreads 8 months ago. I've opened up doors that were never opened. I can't imagine I'm the only one.

I have Aspergers Syndrome. This video is unlisted, so you need the link to view it. I saw something last night that inspired me to come out as Autistic.

Love Is The Most High by Fortunate Youth

No song has ever grabbed me like this one. I honestly can't put into words what makes me listen to it ten times a day. Wish I knew what I was trying to say

-----------------------------------------

"The Alcoholic" A Puppet's Tale by Royksopp

I used to be a raging alcoholic, and this reminds me of some forgotten times

------------------------------------------

Spirit Bird by Xavier Rudd

I was sleeping on a hardwood floor on a popped air mattress, going through withdrawals, trying to hold together my sanity, and a relationship. This song would be the soundtrack of that time.

---------------------------------------------

God of Second Chances by Carlos Whittaker W/Danny

Two beautiful souls merge together

Friends are dropping like flies. Ever since starting my dreadlock journey, I've found myself on a very liberating journey. I happen to fall under many dreadlock stereotypes, not because I want to be cool, but because I have found each stereotype I fall under, individually, and at seperate times. Yes I smoke weed and partake in entheogens, yes I am reading about Buddhism(and after showing someone the path of enlightenment before I knew what Buddhism was, and before I knew what enlightenment was, I'm beginning to believe I'm a Buddhist), yes I play music, yes I live in a rough town, yes I'm losing friends, and YES, I am happy with my life.

While lost in thought after reading part of a post by YUKON ***"...dreads let me know who ppl are really fast w/out them having to say a word to me"*** I begin to realize that someone with dreadlocks has a story to tell. I believe it boils down to one of two sides: 1. Whoever is wearing dreadlocks has been through some shit, or 2. We are strong minded and don't let the actions of others affect us in a negative way. I fall somewhere in the middle.

One thing that gets to me, is selling out. I know deep down I'm not selling out, but on the surface, I wonder. When you spend years among people, you tend to feel in debt to them in some way or another. So when you get dreadlocks, and your friends start calling you poser, or insulting you in some way or another, you may begin to wonder who you really are. This is when it REALLY gets tough. It's like digging a hole with a golf club. A big hole that can take days, even years to finish. There is a box at the bottom of this hole, and in it is a mirror. The only mirror that YOU can see. Once you get to that point, whether it takes a minute, or a lifetime, you'll find out who you are. I don't exactly know who I am, but I'm close enough to say that 99.8% of the people I have surrounded myself with over the past ten years, were only temporary helpers. At the end of your story, you're going to have one beautiful book. When I see someone with dreadlocks, I see a part of myself. I can definitely see where YUKON was coming from.

I live in the bay area. All I'll say publicly. I'm tired of having to act like someone I'm not just to stay out of harm's way. Lately, I've been discovering my true self, and people aren't liking it. I get dreadlocks, and all the sudden people tell me I'm not hard if I can't handle all day every day smoking. I'm happy with my relationship with pot. Isn't that what it was cultivated for? Happiness? Sometimes I'd rather fight than deal with the mental crap. That can be a lot worse. Hell, I've punched stuff and messed up my hands pretty bad. I'd hurt myself before anyone else. Why can't people just realize that I don't want to deal with their crap? Obviously, they don't care. I'm halfway ready to tell my last two friends I got to shove it. One of them accused me of stealing family heirlooms and his uncle(ex drill seargent at pendleton) pinned me against a van and made it very clear I was no longer welcome there. I move outta state and with nothing fun to do, I got into a little trouble. While in a dorm, I wrote my friend 3 letters. He wrote back once. I stopped. Still, I forgave him. I get out at 18, back to California, get a car, and a lot of friends. Nope. No friends really. Because I totaled my car, and no friends around. I turn 21, start drinking. I show up on my friend's porch after 8 years, and his family breaks down saying they know I didn't steal anything. I forgave them. 5 or so years later, his grandma dies. While cleaning out her room, we find the jewelry that had been missing for 13 years. It was emotional for everyone on so many levels. I go through years of pain, yet I'm told I shouldn't bring up the past. Bygones I'm told. How are you supposed to work through shit when you don't work through it? It still hurts me to this day. My friend still says he never accused me, but I remember in these exact words, "You stole my cd, and $500 worth of shit from my grandma." Well, as much as that hurts, I'm still his friend, because it would be wrong to not let bygones be bygones, when that is all I wish he would do. He thinks "sorry" eases 16 years of pain. But, as Ghandi says, You must be the change you want to see in the world."

I just had to leave another friends house because he was trying to get me to pop a soma. I didn't even know what that shit was, so I start looking it up. Meth. Sedative. Savagery. Unpredictable. He wouldn't give up. I started reading this info to him, and he pops one and 5 minutes later he's playing with a knife, kicks his shoes off at the wall, starts slurring his words, and was too gone to care that I was leaving. This is what got me thinking about wanting to leave my town. So many people I've met are now dead or in jail, or probably somewhere fucked up, homeless, I've read papers, and found shit out, and I just want to get out of Babylon. I'm honestly considering moving down south to get away. There's a hippy chick there, but I know we wouldn't be permanent. That's why I don't go down there. I don't want to be here either. I did some soul searching in Arizona, and found nothing. Mentally, just all around fucked. I have a lot of pride in not asking others for opinions, and I like to act strong, but I don't know how much more I can take. Yeah, and get this, I'm on medication, (tried 6 months without it, wound up in psych ward), so going without those meds is not an option. I'm at a crossroads right now, and really thinking about a new life. Wherever I go, come my dreads

I wanted dreadlocks in highschool, but I'd probably have cut them off early because at that time it seemed more like a fashion, as opposed to spirituality. I think a lot had to do with my love for herb. In short, dreadlocks looked cool and it was a stoner thing.

Now, it's so much more than that. I started my dreads before I started smoking again, so it's not a stoner thing for me anymore. It's a tattoo on my hair reminding me of spiritual growth.

4 months ago, I started asking around about dreadlocks, and found varying, sometimes contradictory information. I put wax in my hair, peanut-butter, and whatever else I thought would work. 1 month in, no progress, I was introduced to two awesome people. They sat me down and worked on my hair for an hour or so. I was told that the Rastafarians believe as their dreadlocks grow, they are lifted closer to heaven. I am finding that to be true. Don't get me wrong, I'm not here to preach, I'm just telling my experience. Thank you for reading I'll get some pictures up soon.