Under the feisty and inspiring coaching of Wen-Do instructor Deb Parent, thirteen young women gathered Thursday in The Cat’s Eye to learn their self-worth and how to defend it.

“Let’s go bowling, ladies!” she called out, the Victoria College students yelling “HUT!” with new-found voices as they swung their hands between an imaginary assailant’s legs.

Canada’s oldest women’s self-defense organization, Wen-Do teaches women both verbal and physical self-defense techniques that complement their goal of training women on how to be aware of, avoid, and ultimately take action against assault. This philosophy was put into practice in the three-hour class organized by Rowell Jackman residence Dons Jess Hierons and Rachel Campbell through U of T’s Community Safety Office. U of T is one of the few universities offering this kind of service free of charge, an opportunity which Deb believes all young women should take advantage of.

“What women have,” Deb explained, “is the element of surprise. Society has taught women to be passive and men to expect no resistance to their unwanted advances. But any form of resistance can decrease the chances of completed sexual assault against a woman by up to 80 percent.”

We gathered in a circle with partners to practice various self-defense techniques, from a “Hello, Goodbye” hand slice to the carotid artery (or in our case, rolled-up yoga mats) to ways to escape bear-hugs, wrist grabs and other unwanted physical contact.

“Follow-through in executing these techniques can double your strength,” Deb demonstrated, the petite woman sending the yoga mat flying across the room with a swinging hammer-punch.

She distributed diagrams of vulnerable points on the human body, outlining areas where “soft” (non-permanent) and “hard” (permanent) damage can be afflicted on an attacker. She asked us: is a man’s groin a “hard” or “soft” point?

“Hard” was the general consensus. Deb laughed and said that despite what men might say or believe, there would be no male professional athletes if this were truly the case. “Grab and twist – the doorknob technique!”

Deb spoke to me about why this class was not co-ed. “We want this to be an inclusive space where women can talk about issues specific to our sex and the ways society affects us as girls. Violence against men is often different to the sexual assault experienced by women, as the attacker is usually someone she knows.”

She tells me about movements like Tough GUISE, a project designed to change male attitudes towards masculinity to help them see how their violent behaviours and attitudes can negatively affect women. “Popular culture teaches both men and women to behave in ways dangerous to both themselves and the opposite sex. We need to break through these stereotypes, and programs like ours are trying to help.” Getting word out about these programs and talking to people you trust about what dangers you may be facing is the first step towards a safer city for young women.

With a confidence-boosting repertoire of self-defense moves now in our possession, Deb concluded the night by yelling “WHO’S THE BOSS OF ME?”

“I AM!” we yelled as loud as we could, empowered.

This article appeared in a condensed and edited form in The Varsity here. 

Confused by OSAP? Confounded by financial planning? We heard you. Here is what Donna Wall, Director of Financial Aid and Awards at Enrolment Services, had to say about your most pressing questions in an email exchange.

The Newspaper: Should a student take out OSAP loans even if their tuition and/or rent is already financially covered?

Donna Wall:  OSAP considers a student’s education costs (e.g. tuition and books, living costs, transportation) and a student’s resources (e.g. income from summer and study period earnings, parental income, assets) to determine financial need. The OSAP application process is very thorough, so it’s unlikely that a student will receive funding they don’t need.  It’s important to keep in mind that a portion of OSAP funding is loan and that loan must be repaid. Students who take out a student loan when it’s not really needed are incurring debt unnecessarily.

TN: How should you spend/ where should you put your OSAP money if you have any left over after paying tuition and rent?

DW: Students with unused OSAP would be wise to put it in the bank. Students can run out of money, especially toward the end of the year, if they have budgeted incorrectly. Having a little OSAP to rely on when things get unexpectedly tight would help reduce financial stress.

TN: How does a student budget, and what does it mean to do so?

DW: Budgeting can be as simple as writing down all the things you expect you’ll have to spend money on (e.g., your costs), assigning an amount you can afford to cover your costs, and then keeping track of where you spend your money.  Staff at Enrolment Services, at the Financial Aid offices at UTM and UTSC, as well as staff in the registrarial offices at the colleges and faculties can provide students with budget advice or can direct students to other sources of information. Information on budgeting, including access to budget templates and planning tools also can be found by searching “Financial Consumer Agency of Canada” online.

TN: There is a rumour going around that thousands of dollars of scholarship money goes unclaimed every year, yet most students don’t directly qualify for many of the scholarships available. Is it true that students should apply to these scholarships regardless, even if they don’t fulfil all the requirements?

 DW: Students should apply for all the scholarships for which they may be eligible. There are many scholarships available, so students need to be proactive and do their homework. Information on scholarships is available through the Enrolment Services website and through each college or faculty website. In addition, students should check out scholarships that may be available through external sources such as AUCC (Association of Universities and Colleges Canada) and the Grants Register (for graduate study) which is available at most libraries in the periodical section.

TN: How much money are you permitted to earn during the school year and summer while taking OSAP?

DW: During the summer, there is a minimum amount a student is expected to contribute from their summer earnings toward their education costs. For example, single students are expected to contribute about $3,115 (assuming there is 16 weeks in the summer) or 80% of their discretionary income from the summer. For OSAP purposes, discretionary income is gross income less standard tax deductions (e.g., CPP, EI) less a standard living allowance.  During studies, students can earn up to $113/week before it affects their OSAP funding.

For all other financial inquiries, Donna suggests contacting Enrolment Services or booking a personal appointment with a financial advisor where you bank.

This article appeared in The Newspaper here. 

One year has passed since the full force of student protests against a proposed 75% tuition rise gripped Quebec. Since then, it is clear this “Printemps Erable” has not translated well into English-speaking Canada. The Ontario government recently okayed a 3% annual rise in tuition rates for the foreseeable future, marking the achievement of a 100% tuition increase since 2003. I don’t need to tell you that the average Ontario student now pays $7 000 a year in tuition fees while Quebec’s rates have hovered around $2 500 for fifty years. What you do need to know is how the different attitudes towards the role of higher education in Quebec and Ontario, as well as the methods each province’s youth have used to combat rising tuition, has resulted in successful tuition hike avoidance in Quebec and not Ontario.

First, there exists in Quebec an ideological component to low tuition and accessible education absent in Ontario. This fundamental difference in attitude towards higher education and the government’s role in it marks the greatest barrier towards any successful tuition challenge in Ontario. In Quebec, higher education is regarded as a public good existing for the benefit of everyone, an investment society makes where the return is a population of intelligent, productive individuals.

In contrast, Ontario overwhelmingly views post-secondary education as a private investment an individual makes to increase their personal labour value. This outlook supports the notion that the quality of a university education is related to its cost, with more expensive degrees increasing the value of an individual’s labour most. A privilege, not a right, the very fact that university degrees are not universally accessible is what makes them valuable. A social revolution on the scale seen in Quebec cannot succeed in a province where post-secondary education is viewed as a private enterprise with value derived from the number of people who don’t have one.

Another hurdle for student revolution against tuition hikes in Ontario is the province’s lack of protest culture or reliable means of organizing students into mass mobilization, a method long-standing and successful in Quebec. There, it is widely expected that today’s youth continue the struggle towards free post-secondary education begun in the Quiet Revolution of the 1960s, 2012’s riots marking the ninth major tuition protest in the province’s history. A testament to its effectiveness, mass movements have been the weapon of choice for decades of students set on protecting their “sacred right” to accessible education. These movements consistently achieve crowds of over a quarter-million demonstrators grinding government to a halt.

While this environment of social change has been fifty years in the making, Quebecers provided Ontario’s students with the blueprint to achieving low tuition in the face of unresponsive governments using the power of student union coalitions. The Quebec student protest movement mustered the massive numbers it did through the creation of CLASSE, a coalition of 67 independent student associations from 4 universities united in their fight for accessible education.

At a university where individual colleges, let alone their respective student associations, do not communicate, in a province where discourse between universities and their student unions is virtually non-existent, it is no surprise that a similar revolution has not occurred at U of T or beyond. Quebec students believe that “if student associations act separately, they will be ignored by the government”. To achieve low tuition and accessible post-secondary education in Ontario, students must force policymakers to hold the province’s youth at a higher priority for government funding using the power of mass mobilization so successful in Quebec. Only then can Ontario hope to at last enjoy its very own Maple Spring.

 This article appeared in an edited version in The Varsity here. 

My mother thinks it’s strange that I’m writing to you. It wouldn’t work between us, she says. You’re too old. Too successful. But she’s got it all wrong. I love you, it’s true, but not in the way she has in mind. It’s a different kind of love, one you never really wrote about much but one I think is just as sincere as any romantic love can be. The kind that doesn’t make me want to say ‘I love you’, but ‘thank you’.

I should probably explain. Although I was only seventeen when we first met (if you know what I mean), I’m convinced it was an experience that profoundly changed my life. My dad introduced us, remember? You were scruffy and hadn’t gotten much action in years. The silence before you spoke was awkward, mostly because I didn’t really know who you were, yet somehow felt like I was supposed to. Then something profound happened, when you started to sing. It was as if all the disconnected pop culture references and radio snippets that had drifted unnoticed within and without my short-lived life fell together in a way that completed something in me I didn’t know wasn’t whole. The way marijuana was your gateway drug to LSD, your music marked the beginning of my own, mind-altering addiction to rock n’ roll.

I must admit that when I first met you I was cautious. When you started singing I was confused and uncomfortable. Why did every song have a different vocalist? Why was one of them so nasally? Is that harmonizing? Yet what struck me most deeply about your music was your scream. I’d never heard someone scream the way you did, with such energy and release. I felt as if I were intruding on something too personal, an intimate expression of feeling I didn’t know you well enough to overhear. But you just laughed (you and your dry British humour) and asked if you could take me down to somewhere I’d never been before. I haven’t left since.

This is why I’m saying thank you. Before we met, I thought the kind of life I’d always known was all I could ever hope for, the best I could expect. I thought to be young was to have nothing worth sharing with the world, nothing meaningful to say. I thought the path to success lay in changing oneself for others, guarding your true self close for fear of losing it. Your music showed me the boundless potential of youth, the fulfillment gained through a belief in oneself and the limitless capacity for people to create art. My life has never been the same since I met you, and I’m glad.

My mom says it’s creepy that I spend so much time with you, but I don’t mind (I think she’s crazy). It’s funny, though; when we first met I thought I was the only one who really knew you, as if you were a secret I could keep all to myself. One Google search later and I thought I would be sad to know how many other people loved you, probably more than I ever could. But I wasn’t. It makes me feel like I’m part of something much, much bigger than myself. You’ve given me somewhere to belong.

So before I go, I’d like you to know, that in my life, I thank you more.

Thank you, Beatles.

This article appeared in an edited version in The Strand here. 

Summer no doubt marked a blissful time for readers to gorge themselves on the literature time wasn’t found for during the busy school year. Some encountered the new works they promised themselves they’d get to when they got the chance. For others, it was a period of reconnecting with the old stories they know and love.

This is where the can of worms usually opens.

Bookish types can be viciously opinionated concerning the notion of returning to books already read. Some readers see it as blasphemy, an indication of ignorance on the reader’s part for not understanding a book at first read (why else would you re-read something unless you didn’t get it?), or clear evidence that said re-reader is too narrowminded to explore new literature. For them, a re-reader is someone too afraid to invest the mental effort necessary to dissect a new, perhaps terrible, book outside their tried-and-true personal catalog. Life is too short not to experience as many new ideas, stories and points of view as humanly possible, they claim.

I agree that one should always pursue new ways of thinking, exploring and learning from the wide variety of worldviews offered through books. This is why I often donate the novels I’ve completed to my local library, both to make room for the new literature in my life and also partly from the guilt I feel at hoarding books I know I’ll never return to. I donate the books whose messages I’ve understood, their purpose achieved, their substance absorbed from a now-empty shell of paper. It is these shells I give to my community.

However, there are a rare few novels that, upon completion, lose none of their original substance, taking on new life with each revisit. They are the Darwinian novels, the stories that thrive through their ability to adapt and remain relevant in the changing times in which they are read, surviving by growing richer the more a reader imparts their life experiences into them. Essentially, good novels are not unlike zombies; they will never die as long as there are curious brains to be feasted upon.

I believe that books, especially good books, should not be approached as things to be crammed as many times as possible into a life. Instead, books should be viewed as miniature lifetimes in themselves. Like life, books should not be rushed through, but read with each detail taken in, people met appreciated, and something learned along the way. Anyone who has read a good novel knows that out-of-body experience when a good story draws to a close. I would argue this is the sensation of rebirth, emerging from a pocket-sized lifetime back into our own existence a little bit changed.

Yet unlike life, books allow us the opportunity to reflect on our experiences through experienced eyes, to live it over again. I think re-readers understand this. Through my re-readings, I have come to the conclusion that I will raise my (future) children to be like Atticus Finch, approach death like Professor Dumbledore and life like The Little Prince. And if I ever forget these values upon which I chose to lead my life, and you yours, a reminder is just as easy as picking up a read, and re-read, book.

This article appeared in an edited version in The Strand here. 

Growing up in the distinctly multicultural city of Montreal, I spent most of my childhood days at my Sicilian grandparents’ apartment before my American mother would fetch me home to my Canadian father and brother in the suburbs. In the span of a single day, I would be exposed to Italian, French and English. Speaking exclusively English at home, I had a sound grasp of the language and often acted as impromptu translator in conversation. When a Francophone friend or a well-meaning grandparent struggled to recall the English counterpart to a word I would immediately offer its translation, a feeling of pride as my reward as I watched their faces assume the lightbulb “a-ha” look of comprehension.

I do not believe the way my brain has come to function is unusual, but rather reflects the tremendous influence of our world’s increasingly multicultural landscape on young minds. Various studies conducted at York, Northwestern and Pompeu Fabra University have supported the claim that the bilingual brain is wired differently than its unilingual equivalent. Research has shown that bilinguals have tangible advantages in the mental capacities of task-switching, language comprehension and working memory. The development of these characteristics has been linked to the multilingual lifestyle, the act of toggling between languages requiring an increased level of focus and attention to one’s surroundings to maintain conversation in multiple dialects.

Clear evidence has shown that in any given conversation, all languages known to a multilingual are actively drawn upon by the brain regardless of their immediate application. This phenomenon demands that the mind be able to selectively focus its attention on one language at a time, managing its unique speech patterns, pronunciation and grammar structure while simultaneously inhibiting the expression of another language. This linguistic juggling act strengthens and physically shapes the control mechanisms of the brain, crafting flexible minds better suited to functioning in our fast-paced society.

That being bilingual presents tangible learning benefits is reassuring in a city where over fifty percent of the population hails from outside Canada. Once seen as a barrier to high achievement in school and beyond, it is clear that a knowledge of multiple languages has more advantages than were once thought possible. That’s a message that can’t be lost in translation.

 This article appeared in an edited version in The Varsity here.

In Quebec, Bill 101 succeeded in its intended goal of preserving the French language in a province dominated by English workplaces. The bill gave underprivileged French-Quebeckers the opportunity to regain their socio-economic foothold by making theirs the official language of business and protecting an essential part of their identity: French. PQ leader Pauline Marois has claimed her proposed Charter of Quebec Values aims at a similar goal. By banning public sector workers from donning conspicuous religious symbols, Quebec’s secular society would be prevented from relapsing into a religiously-dominated state, ensuring equality for all citizens.

Instead, it is widely held that this proposed charter is simply a distraction from the party’s continued failure to drive down dismal unemployment rates or make a dent in the massive debt and political corruption crippling the province. As a move that would reportedly be popular with over two-thirds of the population (as ideological legislation claiming to protect Quebec’s identity usually is), most see it as nothing more than a play for Francophone votes.

Yet Marois continues to suggest that the Charter is just as essential to the Franco-Quebecker cause as Bill 101, and should be accepted as such. Looking at the impact Bill 101 had on Quebec, it is possible to predict what might become of La Belle Province should this Charter become legislation.

If Bill 101 caused the flight of wealthy, educated non-Francophone professionals from the province at the prospect of being forced to conduct business in French, we should expect a similar brain drain of public sector workers seeking asylum in provinces more accepting of their religious practices. New immigrants would likely bypass the province altogether for the same reason, a bleak reality for a province already saddled with a stagnating, aging population.

The children of non-Francophones who remained in Quebec following Bill 101 were funneled through bilingual school systems, adding another language to their mother tongues to emerge multilingual upon graduation. Conversely, Francophone children were able to complete their elementary and secondary school educations without having to know any language but French. Come the inevitable job search, many Francophones suffered the same fate as their underprivileged parents, unable to compete in a labour market flooded with individuals whose multilingualism was prized over their own unilingualism. Bill 101 essentially bred into a generation a lack of language capacity, hindering their success both within, and certainly outside of, the province.

The generations to follow the passing of any Quebec Charter of Values would face the same challenges as unilingual Francophones. Children raised under its legislation would be unprepared to function within any society outside of Quebec’s religiously-repressed anomaly. Quebec’s children would be raised to view religion as a societal threat to equality, rather than an enriching component of a culture’s identity. Just as the Francophone majority imposed its language laws over the Anglophone minority with Bill 101, this charter is now seeking similar oppression of religious minorities.

The PQ should look to its own history as it prepares to fight for this illegal legislation that infringes upon the rights of expression of thousands of its citizens. Should it pass, this regressive charter would not prepare Quebec’s current and future citizens for participation in the globalized and multicultural world we live in today.

This article appeared in an edited version in The Varsity here. 

Fade in.

Int. Office building. Cracks snake down walls and settling of the building is audible.

Liberal Arts grad sits before prospective employer, visibly sweating through box-store dress shirt. Greying executive leans back in ergonomic chair behind desk and nameplate engraved “RICH R. BOOMER”.

Boomer

You’ve just graduated from university with a BA, a degree I see no value in despite bemoaning a shortage of critical thinking graduates with excellent communication skills. Tell me, why should I hire you?

Millennial

Well, ah, sir, I know I don’t have much professional experience, but I’m a quick learner. If you incest – ah invest- the time in training me-

Boomer

How do I know you won’t just pack up and leave for a better job the second I train you?

Millenial

Sir, if you pay me well enough and your company’s philosophy is something I agree with I don’t see why I would ever-

Boomer

(Red in face)

You Millenials! You think you’re entitled to a job that caters to your “life goals” and “inner purpose” and “area of study I went to school for” just because you have a university education.

Millenial

Sir, I’m working two jobs to pay my student loans, I’d have to disagree with you calling me entitled-

A knock on the door. The floor sags as a middle-aged man pokes his head around the corner.

Boomer

I told you to leave! I fired you for a reason – I can’t afford to keep paying your salary!

Man

But I need a job to pay my kids’ college education so he can get a job! A job for a job for a job-

Boomer

Get out!

Man

(Yanked out of the room by his few remaining hairs)

Arrgghhh!

Boomer

See, kid? That guy’s got twenty years of experience on you and is looking for exactly the same job. Only difference is, he’s willing to work twice as hard for it. Why should I hire you when I could hire him?

Millenial

That was my dad, sir.

Boomer

(Not listening)

Tell you what. I know you need a job. I get that. So how about you work for me…as a temporaryunpaidintern.

The cracks in the ceiling shift with a deafening crunch. Dust falls into Boomer’s hair, making him look even older.

Millenial

What?

Boomer

Don’t make me say it again! The UTSU breathing down my neck trying to force me to pay you kids what I legally owe you.

Door falls off its hinge. Behind it a young woman falls to her knees. She has obviously been listening.

Woman

(Hysterical)

I have a graduate degree because I was told that it would guarantee me a job! I will take the temporary unpaid internship! No need to train me, no need to give me basic benefits, or job security, or fair wages! Who needs money! A bachelor’s degree is the new high school diploma, you know!

Boomer

(Turns to Millenial)

See kid? She has the right idea.

Woman falls through a newly-formed hole in the ground, sucking her in with a small, high pitched scream.

A young, scraggly-looking engineering grad jumps the precipice.

Engineer

Hey there everyone, I was in the neighborhood and noticed your building is collapsing. How about I design you a new one?

Boomer

Do you have experience?

Engineer

I can’t get experience because I can’t find a job because I don’t have experience-

(The building sways sickeningly, Jenga-like)

Sir, this building is about to collapse!

Boomer

Nonsense! This structure has worked fine for years. I’ve got a corner office with great views. I worked hard to get this far – if this building goes down, I’m going down with it, and I’m taking you kids with me!

Millenial

(Voice quaking with emotion)

Sir, all my life I’ve been told by your generation that I could be anything I wanted to be. Well, I don’t want to work anywhere that sees me as incompetent and unworthy of investment in job security or fair wages. If your generation can’t provide us with careers, my generation will create our own.

The Engineer and Millennial exit the building. They make good on their promise, and shortly after the office building collapses silently into dust.

This article originally appeared in the December issue of The Strand in “Stranded” here. 

Ask someone to picture a scene of fainting women, weeping men and masses of devoted followers chanting the words preached by their idol on a gleaming stage. Some may imagine a religious leader speaking before a crowd of disciples. Most would probably think of a rock concert.

Religion is characterized as an organized system of beliefs defining self-purpose through an adherence to sacred texts and deities worshiped. By this definition, I’m going to propose something blasphemous: music is a religion. Let me tell you why.

First, like traditional religions music forms the basis of a shared community from which the pious construct their personal identity. Buddhist monks wear coloured robes as a physical representation of devotion. Mirror this with the hoards of tweens sporting One Direction t-shirts, and it is clear this sort of teeny-bopper uniform is being used in much the same way; an outward manifestation of loyalty and means of identifying fellow members of a pop faith.

Second, whether it be in the Qur’an or lyrics to “All You Need is Love”, both music and religion boast doctrine from which the devoted derive their beliefs. To internalize these words is to learn a unique language, gaining membership to a compassionate community through the dialect of a shared belief system. Like scripture, the poetry of song lyrics helps followers prevail over life’s challenges, the confessions of musicians offering comfort to listeners who may feel isolated in their suffering. The languages of music and religion bring people together and provide a way to express the love, pain and happiness of life.

Finally, the gods of both music and traditional religions share the same purpose: to sacrifice themselves on behalf of humanity. Legendary musicians have the capacity to communicate in song emotions that would cripple most, surviving the human condition to record their experiences for the benefit of the listener. Through their ability to both withstand and communicate the devastating force of humanity, we demand they sacrifice themselves for our benefit; Kurt Cobain killed himself for fear of being branded a sell-out by his fans, and John Lennon’s murderer rationalized killing the former Beatle as the only way to “save” his idol’s music from falling into commerciality. These tragedies are reflected in the life of Jesus Christ, whose death represented the exchange of a sinless man for a sinful humanity’s forgiveness. In both cases, the deity no longer exists as an individual, but as an entity whose fate belongs those who are faithful to him.

Music should be considered as a religion in its own right. The Golden Rule and Abbey Road couplet “the love you take is equal to the love you make” serve the same purpose equally well.

 This article appeared in an edited version in The Varsity here. 

Turn on, tune in, become the next Monet. You’ve certainly met them- those artsy-types who with all-knowing nods of their heads promote the mind-altering ability of certain substances to inspire creative genius, without all that hard work. But what, if any, connection exists between taking drugs and making art? Wanting to learn more, I combed the internet in search of any link between the two.

I often found drug advocates turned to rock stars like Graham Nash, who credited marijuana and cocaine with “unlocking my mind and my emotions, which had to be awakened for me to start writing meaningfully” as justification for their own indulgence in illicit substances. However, nearly all the musicians who survived their juiced-up youths stood by their decisions to get clean, refusing to make the concession that their art was dependent on the drugs they used. As David Bowie revealed, “The thing is so many people find it fashionable to say you couldn’t write those things if you weren’t on drugs and all that. I just doubt that’s the truth at all because some of the best things I wrote in [the 1970s] I had already cleaned up.” It soon became clear that many of the artists revered as examples of creativity’s blossoming under the influence of drugs only turned to substance abuse either in the initial thrill of fame or later in their careers as self-medication against its pressures, not as a means of producing their art.

Drug advocates also revered figures like Poe and Blake, claiming that by taking drugs they could induce the same madness that inspired these men’s masterworks in their own healthy minds. Aldous Huxley claimed that while tripping one can “actually be introduced into the kind of world that Van Gogh lived in, which [only] certain privileged people [can move] in and out of.” Yet The Scream artist Edvard Munch once said “My sufferings…are part of me and my art”, he and other truly mentally ill artists drawing their work from a lifetime of torment. Drug dissenters argue that such arduous personal journeys and similar artistic creations cannot be replicated in an 8-hour acid trip.

Following her experience with LSD, Anais Nin realized that this seemingly “unfamiliar world, inaccessible except to the chemical alterations of reality” induced by LSD was really comprised of images recalled “either in my work or in literary works by other writers… in reading, in memories of travel, in actual experience.”  She concluded that “the drugs, instead of bringing fertile images which in turn can be shared with the world… have instead become a solitary vice…It is like masturbation.” The passivity induced by drugs was commented on by Huxley too, who said “But I don’t think one can sit down and say, ‘I want to write a magnificent poem, and so I’m going to take [LSD]’…during the experience you’re really not interested in doing anything practical — even writing lyric poetry.” Even Timothy Leary, the man who coined the psychedelic mantra “turn on, tune in, drop out” was frustrated when his revolutionary declaration was misinterpreted as an excuse to “get stoned and abandon all constructive activity.”

In the end, it became clear that many of the figures substance-using creatives credited as their inspiration for taking drugs themselves realized that it was necessary to “graduate” from drugs to keep creating, George Harrison saying “when you get really hip, you don’t need it.” Instead, these artists found ways of expressing their creativity through their own voice, not the voices of drugs spoken through them, marking the firm distinction between their own creative capacities and the drugs they indulged in.

This article appeared in a condensed and edited version on BlogUT here.