yardbirdrc
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2011
- Messages
- 160
Date: October 13, 2013
Time: 1:00pm-7:00pm
Drug: 4-Aco-DMT Fumarate
Dose: 15mg
We awoke to the smell of ham soup emanating from a crock pot by the bed. Ham is maybe a bit of a misnomer, as it included hocks, pigs' feet, andouille, veal stock, beans and vegetables as well. With a little apple cider vinegar to taste, it made a rustic beginning to a rustic day. Sam, Will, Kyle and I had rented a walled tent in the Laurel Highlands for the weekend. We were surprised to find when we arrived that it had many of the amenities of a cabin as well as a solid wooden frame which was draped in canvas walls. We had sausages for the fire, a fridge full of black and tan, and a small plastic container containing four 15mg doses of 4-Aco-DMT, my last few hits of acid (for now) and some lorazepam dust and fragments that at one point were presumably actual pills. After a breakfast of the aforementioned soup slurped from mugs around the fire, we made preparations for the day's excursion. Kyle had brought his ever-present pill bottle caked with 2C-B in addition to my supplies, and as Will was feeling lighthearted that morning he opted for that over the deeper waters of 4-subbed tryptamines. He had never done 2C-B before, so we eyeballed him a moderate dose between 20 and 30mg - we had become quite adept at this task over the past several years despite my initial ethical objections to guessing about anything when it comes to serious drugs. The rest of us were taking the 4 train.
We arrived at the trail around 1pm and dropped our doses at the car before pressing on. There were exactly 4 walking sticks at the entrance, and so we got wizardly with it. The highlight of the path we were on was a small dam that had been built in the stream that created a section of waterfalls and pool deep enough to swim in were it not October. We arrived at the entrance to this before we had begun to trip, and we could hear it in the distance. Kyle suggested we wait until we were in the thick of it before approaching, so we continued on until we stopped by a stream that was about 20 feet across. At this point Sam began to feel nauseous, which she could not attribute with certainty to either the 4-Aco or the Advil she had taken within the last hour, and so we sat for a while. I had remarked that I was beginning to feel lightheaded 15 minutes before, and Kyle soon confirmed that we were indeed in first alerts territory. He and I ventured into the stream via stepping stones until we found a nice large boulder to sit on in the middle of it. Soon the whole party had joined us here, with Will massaging Sam to assist with her nausea.
And here is where it hit us, the oh-so-familiar carrier wave of the tryptamine. Not unlike a DMT blast, if not a bit slower. Things became vivid, and I was taking a great interest in the ripples of the water. We sat here for a while as everybody acclimated to their new-found altitudes. Will, being on 2C-B, remarked that he felt "forward". I guess by this he meant that we should make some sort of progress, be it physical or otherwise. We slowly made our way back to shore and began hiking towards the entrance to the dam, which was a 3 way confluence of trails. It had rained the night before and as we hiked I began to take note of the way the leaves were glistening. The forest was taking on new life around us, and things were getting wavy in a familiar fashion. As we reached the intersection, Kyle suggested we wait a bit longer before going to the dam. Instead we hiked up the third trail, stopping at several points along the way to assess our state. In general we were moving very slowly, and Kyle pulled his hood up thus completing the illusion of wizardhood.
"I prefer Gandalf the grey to Gandalf the white.", he remarked.
"I have no preference in regard to Gandalfs", I replied.
I began to think about death, deeply and completely as one only can while under the influence of this particular class of drugs. In the past I've often spoken poorly of 4-subbed tryptamines for several reasons. For one, mushrooms seem to be the universally recommended "first trip" for beginners. I find this incredibly naive, and when I was dating Robin I often discouraged her from starting with mushrooms despite many people telling her otherwise. Mushrooms, besides being at times physically and mentally oppressive, I feel can only be truly used properly and appreciated by someone who already has some understanding of how to navigate a psychedelic headspace. They are truly the most introspective and powerfully healing tools that I've worked with, and it hurts me a little bit every time someone describes how "crazy" and "fucked up" they were on their first mushroom trip. I feel that these people completely miss the whole point of this drug. It's not fun a lot of the time - for me and my brain anyway. At the very least I can say that it's not best utilized for the purposes of having fun. If you want fun there are so many other ligands you can plug into.
I spent the next half hour or so ruminating on death like this. I fear death, I won't deny it. Thinking about it makes me uncomfortable. With the help of the drug I was able to examine this thoroughly. I thought about how death is responsible for the biodiversity that I was surrounded by. From there I began to think about how death is essentially responsible for life itself. From there I began to think about how I was connected to all living things by death. From there I began to think about how my ego is an illusion, and I am but a manifestation of that thing - that unspeakable force that compels all action. That one objective thing that truly, actually exists and will eventually pull everything - living and otherwise - back into itself. The clay with which our perception creates our reality. I called it the Tao, Will called it entropy.
I spent several minutes staring at a combination of trees. A branch had fallen such that it looked like it was stabbing through a tree, which was actually a two-trunked tree that the branch was merely wedged in. I both envisioned violent perforation and sexual penetration. The tree spoke of life and death as it should considered - essentially identical. I came to more fully accept the concept of death that day by realizing that there can be no end to "self" when self doesn't really exist. "Manifestation, manifestation, manifestation..." I had fallen into a thought loop, or more elegantly I had taken on a mantra. I repeated this word in my head for 5 minutes or so. "Manifestation... 'I' is not part of the equation."
I took a seat on a rock and the party came to a halt. For about 5 minutes nobody spoke. Will was listening to music, and Sam was moving... more like billowing through the forest like a breeze or something. Kyle leaned on his staff. I stared out into the forest. I was experiencing something intensely beautiful within myself as the woods in front of me became a blurred, rapidly warping mass. I essentially reversed the consumption of my reality into a projection. Perception creating reality is something that I've held as a belief for a long time, but in this moment I was directly experiencing it. I was not really seeing the world so much as the world was leaking out of my eyeballs, caressed by invisible tentacles that began within my head and were busily but gently at work piecing together something coherent. I witnessed this process, and I was literally slackjawed by the beauty of it. My head slowly bowed against my walking stick and I felt as if I might tear up from the raw, unprocessed joy that I was feeling. I closed my eyes and felt thankful - to whom or what I do not know. I felt cleaner than I had ever felt, healed of a sickness I was not even aware that I had. With eyes closed I heard the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves around me and pictures appeared on my eyelids of frogs jumping from leaves, interspersed with a deep blackness. I don't know what causes this but I've experienced this many times - the blackness of closed eyes seems so much deeper and darker than it does while sober.
I opened my eyes and let out a final cleansing sigh. A man was approaching with what looked like ski poles. I guess he took hiking really seriously. I was forced to quickly pull myself out of the hole I was in and regain composure.
"Hello!" said Will. He later told me had done this to warn me of the man approaching, although I had already snapped out of my trance by chance.
"Hello there. Beautiful day isn't it?"
"Much nicer than yesterday" I said. I was repeating what someone else had told me as we passed them on the trail earlier that day. I could not actually remember what yesterday was like.
"Oh yeah, the rain. What are you guys up to?"
"Oh you know, just hiking and enjoying the scenery."
"Yeah I live around here, it's really beautiful. Fall is coming late this year. Usually the leaves are all turned by now, but there's still a lot of green". Global warming lurked above my head as a potential next train of thought, and this filled me with dread.
"You guys look at this!" Sam yelled from the woods. "There's a big orange toad on this log!"
"I kind of want to go look at that toad..." I remarked. "Do you have your camera?"
"Yeah, there's a lot of weird shit out here. You folks have a nice day!" The man hiked away, and I kept thinking about his "weird shit" remark. We made our way to the toad, which was indeed orange but not at all how I pictured it. He hopped off the log as we approached.
"Now he just looks like a leaf!" Sam exclaimed.
"Why don't we look like anything?" I asked.
"We don't need to." answered Kyle.
I informed the group that I had just experienced something inexplicable, and that I was having an amazing time. I decided to keep myself from falling deeper into thought, partially because I was exhausted mentally already and partially because I felt like I should be more social. We began to chat as we hiked back towards the dam, largely about a lot of the stuff I had thought about. We noticed a marsh out in the distance and approached it so Sam could take pictures. We realized it was being formed by the dam, and so we were close to our destination.
"Have you ever thought about the possibility that all of this is happening because it can? Like that just the concept of existence is enough to create what we are experiencing as reality."
"Holy shit, Will..." this stopped me in my tracks.
"Think about it like a computer program. I mean, you write out all the logic for that... does it even really matter if you run the program or not? Logically it's already constructed. If reality is governed by physical laws in the same, relatively logical way... couldn't we essentially be experiencing a potentiality?"
I completely understood what he was describing, and it had never occurred to me before. Will had just given me knowledge, and he might as well have gift-wrapped it and put it in a box or something. I hugged him, consequently.
We approached the dam, which was really rather small. I sat at its apex on some rocks and got lost. Not in thought as before, but in sensation. The coolness of the water, and the visual treat of it trickling down the tiered wall of the dam was enough to keep me occupied. I joined the others a little further down the hill and Sam packed a briarwood pipe with some flavorful tobacco. We sat and smoked as an older couple played fetch with their dog in the water. I was intimately involved in this scene, intensely studying everything from the expression on the dog's face to his motion through the water and which path he was choosing. There was really no thought at all in this portion of the experience for me, only direct sensory input. I was riding a mini-peak. We sat here for about half an hour just staring at the dog. The drug was almost uncomfortably strong, but I was managing.
"Think you're on the come down?" asked Kyle. "Kind of feels like it for me."
"How long has it been? I just hit another wave pretty hard there."
Kyle checked his phone. "2 hours and 40 minutes."
"That's it? Holy shit. I don't know man... don't underestimate it."
We began to leave this area. Will came over to show us a pen he had found that had the name of a medical practice inscribed on it. Drs. Kathie and Linda Stoltz, Optometrists (obviously I don't remember the actual names). We discussed whether or not they were sisters or lesbians. Kyle suggested that they might be mother and daughter. I wasn't so sure they even existed. I briefly entertained the idea that someone was out there printing up pens, pencils, tote bags and change purses with fake names on them and leaving them around various places just hoping someone would unravel the mystery. Will wondered what their happiest moments in life were. There was a phone number, but we decided against calling it.
As we hiked back to the car I was still tripping, but I could feel that there would be no more large waves. Will was pretty much entirely sober by this point save some extra energy so he elected to drive us back to camp. When we arrived Kyle and I set upon the task of starting a fire. I went inside to get some newspaper and got distracted by the soup. I poured myself a mug despite not being particularly hungry. I set it aside, but with the thought of it looming in my mind I decided it would be best to taste it.
The soup made me have to sit down as I entered a final, small peak in the experience. I delicately spooned each spoonful into my mouth, carefully observing the pieces of meat and vegetable that were making up each bite. I saw the little inside parts of corn kernels suspended in the soup alongside bits of celery and soft clumps of fat and skin from the ham hock, literally composing a cosmos within the mug. Each bite contained such depth of flavor that I isolated myself from the group and became completely entranced by the mug. The smell of the firewood, the cabin in front of me and this soup combined brought autumn into full focus. This is my art. Food is how I express myself, my whole heart and soul was in that mug. Food is capable of such emotional evocation, and I was experiencing one of my own creations as a toddler first experiences rubbing a buttercup under their chin.
I finished the soup and after briefly tending to the fire with Kyle I went to lay down in Sam's hammock.
"Do you want me to push you?" Sam asked.
"Huh... uh... what?"
"Here..."
She gave me a gentle shove and I began to rock back and forth.
"Th-thank you."
I smoked a cigarette here, and spent probably a half hour by myself with my own thoughts within the weightlessness and isolation of the hammock. I sort of felt like I was being reborn back into sober reality, and I felt very wide-eyed and childish. I wanted desperately to hear the album Sung Tongs by Animal Collective, not because I'm a particularly large fan of this album or band (despite my tremendous fandom for music in general), but because it felt completely appropriate for the season. Instead I let the edges of the hammock breeze over my face, enveloping me in a nylon cocoon as my cigarette burned itself out betwixt my fingers. I heard gunshots in the distance, discrete at first but then in rapid succession. People were hunting or target shooting nearby.
Eventually I left the hammock and rejoined the group. I felt completely at peace and I worried at times that my general silence and thoughtfulness would be taken as sadness or anger - generally I'm pretty conversational. I ate another mug of soup - every action was calculated and everything I saw around me was calmly deconstructed and understood with ease. Mushrooms (and by extension 4-Aco-DMT), I am sorry that I ever spoke ill of you. This was truly a perfect experience, and one that I value highly among my many psychedelic forays. More importantly it was exactly what I needed at this point in my life.
With this trip in the books I honestly feel as if I could leave psychedelics behind me for another year and a half and be just fine for a while. But why stop now when I've got fresh stocks of LSD and MDMA in the works, as well as a mescaline extraction brewing and more 25C-NBOMe than I could ever possibly desire conveniently arriving before the impending scheduling in a few weeks? I'm sure you'll hear from me again soon my nameless, faceless partners in victimless crime. I wish all of you happy trails.
Time: 1:00pm-7:00pm
Drug: 4-Aco-DMT Fumarate
Dose: 15mg
We awoke to the smell of ham soup emanating from a crock pot by the bed. Ham is maybe a bit of a misnomer, as it included hocks, pigs' feet, andouille, veal stock, beans and vegetables as well. With a little apple cider vinegar to taste, it made a rustic beginning to a rustic day. Sam, Will, Kyle and I had rented a walled tent in the Laurel Highlands for the weekend. We were surprised to find when we arrived that it had many of the amenities of a cabin as well as a solid wooden frame which was draped in canvas walls. We had sausages for the fire, a fridge full of black and tan, and a small plastic container containing four 15mg doses of 4-Aco-DMT, my last few hits of acid (for now) and some lorazepam dust and fragments that at one point were presumably actual pills. After a breakfast of the aforementioned soup slurped from mugs around the fire, we made preparations for the day's excursion. Kyle had brought his ever-present pill bottle caked with 2C-B in addition to my supplies, and as Will was feeling lighthearted that morning he opted for that over the deeper waters of 4-subbed tryptamines. He had never done 2C-B before, so we eyeballed him a moderate dose between 20 and 30mg - we had become quite adept at this task over the past several years despite my initial ethical objections to guessing about anything when it comes to serious drugs. The rest of us were taking the 4 train.
We arrived at the trail around 1pm and dropped our doses at the car before pressing on. There were exactly 4 walking sticks at the entrance, and so we got wizardly with it. The highlight of the path we were on was a small dam that had been built in the stream that created a section of waterfalls and pool deep enough to swim in were it not October. We arrived at the entrance to this before we had begun to trip, and we could hear it in the distance. Kyle suggested we wait until we were in the thick of it before approaching, so we continued on until we stopped by a stream that was about 20 feet across. At this point Sam began to feel nauseous, which she could not attribute with certainty to either the 4-Aco or the Advil she had taken within the last hour, and so we sat for a while. I had remarked that I was beginning to feel lightheaded 15 minutes before, and Kyle soon confirmed that we were indeed in first alerts territory. He and I ventured into the stream via stepping stones until we found a nice large boulder to sit on in the middle of it. Soon the whole party had joined us here, with Will massaging Sam to assist with her nausea.
And here is where it hit us, the oh-so-familiar carrier wave of the tryptamine. Not unlike a DMT blast, if not a bit slower. Things became vivid, and I was taking a great interest in the ripples of the water. We sat here for a while as everybody acclimated to their new-found altitudes. Will, being on 2C-B, remarked that he felt "forward". I guess by this he meant that we should make some sort of progress, be it physical or otherwise. We slowly made our way back to shore and began hiking towards the entrance to the dam, which was a 3 way confluence of trails. It had rained the night before and as we hiked I began to take note of the way the leaves were glistening. The forest was taking on new life around us, and things were getting wavy in a familiar fashion. As we reached the intersection, Kyle suggested we wait a bit longer before going to the dam. Instead we hiked up the third trail, stopping at several points along the way to assess our state. In general we were moving very slowly, and Kyle pulled his hood up thus completing the illusion of wizardhood.
"I prefer Gandalf the grey to Gandalf the white.", he remarked.
"I have no preference in regard to Gandalfs", I replied.
I began to think about death, deeply and completely as one only can while under the influence of this particular class of drugs. In the past I've often spoken poorly of 4-subbed tryptamines for several reasons. For one, mushrooms seem to be the universally recommended "first trip" for beginners. I find this incredibly naive, and when I was dating Robin I often discouraged her from starting with mushrooms despite many people telling her otherwise. Mushrooms, besides being at times physically and mentally oppressive, I feel can only be truly used properly and appreciated by someone who already has some understanding of how to navigate a psychedelic headspace. They are truly the most introspective and powerfully healing tools that I've worked with, and it hurts me a little bit every time someone describes how "crazy" and "fucked up" they were on their first mushroom trip. I feel that these people completely miss the whole point of this drug. It's not fun a lot of the time - for me and my brain anyway. At the very least I can say that it's not best utilized for the purposes of having fun. If you want fun there are so many other ligands you can plug into.
I spent the next half hour or so ruminating on death like this. I fear death, I won't deny it. Thinking about it makes me uncomfortable. With the help of the drug I was able to examine this thoroughly. I thought about how death is responsible for the biodiversity that I was surrounded by. From there I began to think about how death is essentially responsible for life itself. From there I began to think about how I was connected to all living things by death. From there I began to think about how my ego is an illusion, and I am but a manifestation of that thing - that unspeakable force that compels all action. That one objective thing that truly, actually exists and will eventually pull everything - living and otherwise - back into itself. The clay with which our perception creates our reality. I called it the Tao, Will called it entropy.
I spent several minutes staring at a combination of trees. A branch had fallen such that it looked like it was stabbing through a tree, which was actually a two-trunked tree that the branch was merely wedged in. I both envisioned violent perforation and sexual penetration. The tree spoke of life and death as it should considered - essentially identical. I came to more fully accept the concept of death that day by realizing that there can be no end to "self" when self doesn't really exist. "Manifestation, manifestation, manifestation..." I had fallen into a thought loop, or more elegantly I had taken on a mantra. I repeated this word in my head for 5 minutes or so. "Manifestation... 'I' is not part of the equation."
I took a seat on a rock and the party came to a halt. For about 5 minutes nobody spoke. Will was listening to music, and Sam was moving... more like billowing through the forest like a breeze or something. Kyle leaned on his staff. I stared out into the forest. I was experiencing something intensely beautiful within myself as the woods in front of me became a blurred, rapidly warping mass. I essentially reversed the consumption of my reality into a projection. Perception creating reality is something that I've held as a belief for a long time, but in this moment I was directly experiencing it. I was not really seeing the world so much as the world was leaking out of my eyeballs, caressed by invisible tentacles that began within my head and were busily but gently at work piecing together something coherent. I witnessed this process, and I was literally slackjawed by the beauty of it. My head slowly bowed against my walking stick and I felt as if I might tear up from the raw, unprocessed joy that I was feeling. I closed my eyes and felt thankful - to whom or what I do not know. I felt cleaner than I had ever felt, healed of a sickness I was not even aware that I had. With eyes closed I heard the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves around me and pictures appeared on my eyelids of frogs jumping from leaves, interspersed with a deep blackness. I don't know what causes this but I've experienced this many times - the blackness of closed eyes seems so much deeper and darker than it does while sober.
I opened my eyes and let out a final cleansing sigh. A man was approaching with what looked like ski poles. I guess he took hiking really seriously. I was forced to quickly pull myself out of the hole I was in and regain composure.
"Hello!" said Will. He later told me had done this to warn me of the man approaching, although I had already snapped out of my trance by chance.
"Hello there. Beautiful day isn't it?"
"Much nicer than yesterday" I said. I was repeating what someone else had told me as we passed them on the trail earlier that day. I could not actually remember what yesterday was like.
"Oh yeah, the rain. What are you guys up to?"
"Oh you know, just hiking and enjoying the scenery."
"Yeah I live around here, it's really beautiful. Fall is coming late this year. Usually the leaves are all turned by now, but there's still a lot of green". Global warming lurked above my head as a potential next train of thought, and this filled me with dread.
"You guys look at this!" Sam yelled from the woods. "There's a big orange toad on this log!"
"I kind of want to go look at that toad..." I remarked. "Do you have your camera?"
"Yeah, there's a lot of weird shit out here. You folks have a nice day!" The man hiked away, and I kept thinking about his "weird shit" remark. We made our way to the toad, which was indeed orange but not at all how I pictured it. He hopped off the log as we approached.
"Now he just looks like a leaf!" Sam exclaimed.
"Why don't we look like anything?" I asked.
"We don't need to." answered Kyle.
I informed the group that I had just experienced something inexplicable, and that I was having an amazing time. I decided to keep myself from falling deeper into thought, partially because I was exhausted mentally already and partially because I felt like I should be more social. We began to chat as we hiked back towards the dam, largely about a lot of the stuff I had thought about. We noticed a marsh out in the distance and approached it so Sam could take pictures. We realized it was being formed by the dam, and so we were close to our destination.
"Have you ever thought about the possibility that all of this is happening because it can? Like that just the concept of existence is enough to create what we are experiencing as reality."
"Holy shit, Will..." this stopped me in my tracks.
"Think about it like a computer program. I mean, you write out all the logic for that... does it even really matter if you run the program or not? Logically it's already constructed. If reality is governed by physical laws in the same, relatively logical way... couldn't we essentially be experiencing a potentiality?"
I completely understood what he was describing, and it had never occurred to me before. Will had just given me knowledge, and he might as well have gift-wrapped it and put it in a box or something. I hugged him, consequently.
We approached the dam, which was really rather small. I sat at its apex on some rocks and got lost. Not in thought as before, but in sensation. The coolness of the water, and the visual treat of it trickling down the tiered wall of the dam was enough to keep me occupied. I joined the others a little further down the hill and Sam packed a briarwood pipe with some flavorful tobacco. We sat and smoked as an older couple played fetch with their dog in the water. I was intimately involved in this scene, intensely studying everything from the expression on the dog's face to his motion through the water and which path he was choosing. There was really no thought at all in this portion of the experience for me, only direct sensory input. I was riding a mini-peak. We sat here for about half an hour just staring at the dog. The drug was almost uncomfortably strong, but I was managing.
"Think you're on the come down?" asked Kyle. "Kind of feels like it for me."
"How long has it been? I just hit another wave pretty hard there."
Kyle checked his phone. "2 hours and 40 minutes."
"That's it? Holy shit. I don't know man... don't underestimate it."
We began to leave this area. Will came over to show us a pen he had found that had the name of a medical practice inscribed on it. Drs. Kathie and Linda Stoltz, Optometrists (obviously I don't remember the actual names). We discussed whether or not they were sisters or lesbians. Kyle suggested that they might be mother and daughter. I wasn't so sure they even existed. I briefly entertained the idea that someone was out there printing up pens, pencils, tote bags and change purses with fake names on them and leaving them around various places just hoping someone would unravel the mystery. Will wondered what their happiest moments in life were. There was a phone number, but we decided against calling it.
As we hiked back to the car I was still tripping, but I could feel that there would be no more large waves. Will was pretty much entirely sober by this point save some extra energy so he elected to drive us back to camp. When we arrived Kyle and I set upon the task of starting a fire. I went inside to get some newspaper and got distracted by the soup. I poured myself a mug despite not being particularly hungry. I set it aside, but with the thought of it looming in my mind I decided it would be best to taste it.
The soup made me have to sit down as I entered a final, small peak in the experience. I delicately spooned each spoonful into my mouth, carefully observing the pieces of meat and vegetable that were making up each bite. I saw the little inside parts of corn kernels suspended in the soup alongside bits of celery and soft clumps of fat and skin from the ham hock, literally composing a cosmos within the mug. Each bite contained such depth of flavor that I isolated myself from the group and became completely entranced by the mug. The smell of the firewood, the cabin in front of me and this soup combined brought autumn into full focus. This is my art. Food is how I express myself, my whole heart and soul was in that mug. Food is capable of such emotional evocation, and I was experiencing one of my own creations as a toddler first experiences rubbing a buttercup under their chin.
I finished the soup and after briefly tending to the fire with Kyle I went to lay down in Sam's hammock.
"Do you want me to push you?" Sam asked.
"Huh... uh... what?"
"Here..."
She gave me a gentle shove and I began to rock back and forth.
"Th-thank you."
I smoked a cigarette here, and spent probably a half hour by myself with my own thoughts within the weightlessness and isolation of the hammock. I sort of felt like I was being reborn back into sober reality, and I felt very wide-eyed and childish. I wanted desperately to hear the album Sung Tongs by Animal Collective, not because I'm a particularly large fan of this album or band (despite my tremendous fandom for music in general), but because it felt completely appropriate for the season. Instead I let the edges of the hammock breeze over my face, enveloping me in a nylon cocoon as my cigarette burned itself out betwixt my fingers. I heard gunshots in the distance, discrete at first but then in rapid succession. People were hunting or target shooting nearby.
Eventually I left the hammock and rejoined the group. I felt completely at peace and I worried at times that my general silence and thoughtfulness would be taken as sadness or anger - generally I'm pretty conversational. I ate another mug of soup - every action was calculated and everything I saw around me was calmly deconstructed and understood with ease. Mushrooms (and by extension 4-Aco-DMT), I am sorry that I ever spoke ill of you. This was truly a perfect experience, and one that I value highly among my many psychedelic forays. More importantly it was exactly what I needed at this point in my life.
With this trip in the books I honestly feel as if I could leave psychedelics behind me for another year and a half and be just fine for a while. But why stop now when I've got fresh stocks of LSD and MDMA in the works, as well as a mescaline extraction brewing and more 25C-NBOMe than I could ever possibly desire conveniently arriving before the impending scheduling in a few weeks? I'm sure you'll hear from me again soon my nameless, faceless partners in victimless crime. I wish all of you happy trails.
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