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What It Really Means to Be a Friend
And how I learned about that in a Pennsylvania cornfield
When I was 21, a Senior in college, I had my first psychedelic experience. My “guide” for the day was my good friend, George, a philosophy major deeply immersed in the study of Nietzche and alternate realities.
Knowing this was my “first time,” George kindly volunteered to look out for me that memorable day — to be there for me if I needed any help or support. Plus, he had a car and some time, so could drive me to a cornfield ten miles outside of town where I would be free from the prying eyes of others to have whatever experiences were in store for me.
The day, as you might imagine, was very off-the-grid, me having several mind-blowing realizations about the nature of life, God, the universe, gnats, and what I had previously come to know as my “self”.
Anyway, towards the end of the day, I had a moment that taught me the true meaning of friendship and how important it actually was to have a friend.
As the sun went down and I realized it was the perfect time to exit that cosmic corn field, I began walking back to the car, the place where George was patiently waiting for me. As I made my way, I found myself, progressively, as if I was following some kind of universal algorithm, walking slower and slower until I…
