Oldie but goodie posts I have regarding my first heroic shroom trip. Been needing a RESET...
Posted last year, about the same time this month. Haven't had a good shroom trip, by good I mean heroic-dosage of an 8 gram and up, since this last post. Thus, my ego -- reeling, in need of a reset, in need of a good spring cleaning, but alas, that shit is illegal and is quite hard to come by, sad state of our WAR ON DRUGS policy -- even though shrooms isn't addicting, has medicinal and psychological properties that can, and I shit you not -- help the fucking world.
Working on a project that sends that message. But for now, this is my account of that beautiful, momentous night...
An 8 gram trip …
After 10 hours, I have returned wholly, though not the same.
The infamous ‘heroic dosage’ dubbed by Mckenna … the Psilocybin ticket, the admission into the vortexes and folds and crevices of your life. Into the outerspace, and inner.
It was a shattering experience, needless to say, a gut-check into the subconscious. The reason why religions rose from the fettered, primitive society of yore. Becoming entrenched and subsequently used to corrupt the minds of people - when shrooms, or any psychedelic substance were later taken out of its equation.
My outlook has been castrated, devoured, left out to dry, and thereafter - sprinkled with periwinkles and sawdusts napkins hemmed from the friction of some god above, trying to wiped its ass just after having take a dump on my BEING.
The first sign of the ONSET of its tendrils creeping into my fiber was the funny way my blank, white sheet of paper was illogically making.
It’s a good idea to do something while waiting for the rocket booster to kick in, so I was doing art. Drawing on my sketch pad, when the lead-tip touches the white surface of the paper, it rippled!
I saw patterns on the sheet, patterns from the bark it was derived from. I swayed, giggled, and composed myself in anticipation of what’s more to come.
I got up, turned on my suntouch IONIZER, this bright-light device that’s good for the winter blues. And my room was engulfed in instant serenity.
Staring at the bulbs was like Moses staring into the asscrack being of his gods. I had to peel myself from keeping my eyes glared-the fuck up.
When I did finally take my eyes off, the imprint of the glare followed my line of sight - naturally. But then something funny began to happen, if the whole thing wasn’t funny to this point already, the glare - a form of rectangular reddish-energy, started hopping around. It had a mind of its own! Cavorting, belly dancing, gyration - the whole deal.
I busted out a nut, guffawing.
Thereafter, everything was a blur and a mixture of typical hallucinatory fabrications, or so I thought anyways. Because at this juncture, I still had my consciousness, my third atman at the helm, my critical ‘Genetic Memory’ as psychologist coined them as. I’m like, ‘pshw, that’s pretty cool, but I’m still all me.’
With that, the displacement of logic - replaced by crazy ideas - rose under my roof like a speeding stormcloud. Thunderclaps of realizations, however fantastical they were, shot and rang in the confined heavens of my head…
For instance, at one moment, I thought I was one with the world. That I am as important as the 3 billion people out there, that notion of SINGULARITY - came into mind. That I can easily shed this life/avatar, and become someone else. Notably fucking Brad the fuck Pitt. I told myself I can be him, of course nothing happened except that when I looked in the mirror - an appreciation of my portrait was established. There where times when the world had somehow made sense, and that everything was but a simulation. It’s a fucking videogame, I tried to get out it, tried to wake up. Of course nothing happened, but in my utmost sincere WILL, I tried to mentally project that everything was a simulation. And this, I believe, is the vital area where SANITY must play an intergal role in ones self, when they take the TRIP.
Had I been a little crazy, I would’ve tried to stab myself, the thought came into mind - to make myself SURGE out of this ‘simulation.’ Of course I didn’t.
I believe 4 hour marked had passed, and that come-up, surprisingly beautiful, at times amusing - had petered off.
And the REAL effect of the shroom took hold.
The potent indelible electricity that powers EGO were slowly, one by one, being unplugged from my consciousness.
And what was left was the bare stark naked self, for all to see, judge, and ponder thereupon.
I was out in the frontlines devoid of even a simple loincloth to protect myself from the deluge of the war that was unfolding. And boy, was I fucking scared.
My ego, my personal wall I put up to protect it - all shattered. I had died, regained life, and realize that …
I am one with everyone.
Ah shit, just try it.
Working on a project that sends that message. But for now, this is my account of that beautiful, momentous night...
An 8 gram trip …
After 10 hours, I have returned wholly, though not the same.
The infamous ‘heroic dosage’ dubbed by Mckenna … the Psilocybin ticket, the admission into the vortexes and folds and crevices of your life. Into the outerspace, and inner.
It was a shattering experience, needless to say, a gut-check into the subconscious. The reason why religions rose from the fettered, primitive society of yore. Becoming entrenched and subsequently used to corrupt the minds of people - when shrooms, or any psychedelic substance were later taken out of its equation.
My outlook has been castrated, devoured, left out to dry, and thereafter - sprinkled with periwinkles and sawdusts napkins hemmed from the friction of some god above, trying to wiped its ass just after having take a dump on my BEING.
The first sign of the ONSET of its tendrils creeping into my fiber was the funny way my blank, white sheet of paper was illogically making.
It’s a good idea to do something while waiting for the rocket booster to kick in, so I was doing art. Drawing on my sketch pad, when the lead-tip touches the white surface of the paper, it rippled!
I saw patterns on the sheet, patterns from the bark it was derived from. I swayed, giggled, and composed myself in anticipation of what’s more to come.
I got up, turned on my suntouch IONIZER, this bright-light device that’s good for the winter blues. And my room was engulfed in instant serenity.
Staring at the bulbs was like Moses staring into the asscrack being of his gods. I had to peel myself from keeping my eyes glared-the fuck up.
When I did finally take my eyes off, the imprint of the glare followed my line of sight - naturally. But then something funny began to happen, if the whole thing wasn’t funny to this point already, the glare - a form of rectangular reddish-energy, started hopping around. It had a mind of its own! Cavorting, belly dancing, gyration - the whole deal.
I busted out a nut, guffawing.
Thereafter, everything was a blur and a mixture of typical hallucinatory fabrications, or so I thought anyways. Because at this juncture, I still had my consciousness, my third atman at the helm, my critical ‘Genetic Memory’ as psychologist coined them as. I’m like, ‘pshw, that’s pretty cool, but I’m still all me.’
With that, the displacement of logic - replaced by crazy ideas - rose under my roof like a speeding stormcloud. Thunderclaps of realizations, however fantastical they were, shot and rang in the confined heavens of my head…
For instance, at one moment, I thought I was one with the world. That I am as important as the 3 billion people out there, that notion of SINGULARITY - came into mind. That I can easily shed this life/avatar, and become someone else. Notably fucking Brad the fuck Pitt. I told myself I can be him, of course nothing happened except that when I looked in the mirror - an appreciation of my portrait was established. There where times when the world had somehow made sense, and that everything was but a simulation. It’s a fucking videogame, I tried to get out it, tried to wake up. Of course nothing happened, but in my utmost sincere WILL, I tried to mentally project that everything was a simulation. And this, I believe, is the vital area where SANITY must play an intergal role in ones self, when they take the TRIP.
Had I been a little crazy, I would’ve tried to stab myself, the thought came into mind - to make myself SURGE out of this ‘simulation.’ Of course I didn’t.
I believe 4 hour marked had passed, and that come-up, surprisingly beautiful, at times amusing - had petered off.
And the REAL effect of the shroom took hold.
The potent indelible electricity that powers EGO were slowly, one by one, being unplugged from my consciousness.
And what was left was the bare stark naked self, for all to see, judge, and ponder thereupon.
I was out in the frontlines devoid of even a simple loincloth to protect myself from the deluge of the war that was unfolding. And boy, was I fucking scared.
My ego, my personal wall I put up to protect it - all shattered. I had died, regained life, and realize that …
I am one with everyone.
Ah shit, just try it.