One day, in the Waipi'o Valley on the Big Island, some guy in a truck gave me and a friend some pakololo in a paper sack he said he grew back in the valley. He threw in a pack of papers and some matches, and we shared a J. It was creeper, and when he was gone we were so high it was hard to believe. We walked down to the beach, and halfway there I saw a man walking. I called out to him, and then I didn't know if I really said anything or I just thought I had, and I got a little wiggy because he had to know we were blasted if I can't even talk, but then we were there at the beach and the waves went whoosh....whoosh.... on the black, black sand. And it was wondrously clear that the whole of creation was one beautiful expression of the divine.
Woo. If it was this strain that guy was growing you gotta get you some. Aloha. :-)