ForEverAfter
Ex-Bluelighter
6th July, 2012 (New Financial Year, Day 6)
18.9 grams (15 caps, 3.9 stems) plus 10.7 grams (stuff at bottom of evaporator, mostly stems) = not enough. I go to the park to get the last two fresh specimens of the season. Surprisingly I find five caps. Three of them are immature, but I pick them anyway. I only leave one, which is pre-premature. A tiny button. Really, I should wait for them all to mature but I'm too busy to keep coming back every day. And I'm eager to experience infinity again.
4:30 pm
I break up the four caps and put them on the top tray of my evaporator at sixty degrees celsius. There has to be a way to prepare them quickly. I have to work in the morning so I need to eat them in the next hour and a half.
I find a recipe that says you can saute them in a frying pan with butter. So I take them out of the evaporator and chuck them in a pan. Put a pot of boiling water on the stove and add the 29.6 grams of powdered caps/stems. After about fifteen minutes, I add leftover soup from yesterday containing: condensed cream of mushroom soup, pak choy, red pepper, basil, salt and pepper. Add some fresh choy sum leaves. It smells good. The mushrooms in the frying pan smell really good as well. I love the aroma of Muscaria.
I add the mushrooms from the frying pan into the soup and simmer it for another ten minutes, then turn off the stove and dish half of it into a massive bowl. I eat quickly, in order to ensure that all of the drug is absorbed at the same time. I figure this will increase my chances. The soup tastes good. I am cheating. Skipping the taste test. Also, since I am consuming it with other food, I am skipping the nausea test.
I found this video online of an old hippy eating raw Muscaria caps. Raw is better, spiritually, he says. When I saw the video, frankly, I thought he was a whacko. Now I understand. The more nausea the better. It helps to put you into the right meditative mindset. Helps you to focus, right from the word go. But I'm not ready for that. I have a lot to learn about meditation and mind control. For the time being, I'm happy to skip the first two steps. One day, I will be strong enough to consume this mushroom raw. There is no rush.
5:30 pm
I finish the first bowl of soup and turn the stove back on.
5:40 pm
The soup is simmering. I pour it into the bowl, emptying the saucepan, and turn off the stove.
5:46 pm
I eat quickly, again. Halfway through the bowl, I start to feel sick. I try to force myself to continue, to get it all down, but every time I have another mouthful the nausea increases. I need to stop and let it digest a bit. I pour the remaining soup back into the saucepan.
The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying talks about three meditation techniques.
1. Focused breathing.
2. Focusing on an object.
3. Reciting a mantra.
I've decided to do all of them. I set up a double candle stick and some incense, before making the soup. The lights are off in the house. The smoke from the incense is rising around the candle flames. I lie down and stare at it, taking deep breaths.
The nausea kicks in really hard. I have to focus all of my energy to prevent myself from vomitting instantly. I focus on the candle. Then I close my eyes. When I lose focus again, I open them and watch the flame flicker. The nausea is building up. It's getting harder and harder to not vomit. But it's all psychological. I can prevent it. I concentrate. The nausea increases. Finally, I give in. I decide that I can't do it anymore and the vomit comes flooding out. I walk to the kitchen, holding my mouth. Vomit a bit onto the carpet. Then on the kitchen floor. I make it to the stove and vomit into the saucepan. If I can drink my own urine, I can drink my own vomit. I grab a jar from the kitchen, and go back to lie down.
6:20 pm
I lie down and breathe. As I breathe out, I chant "Soma". After a long time, maybe a thousand repetitions, I stop chanting. An unknown amount of time passes.
I emerge from a deep trance and go into the kitchen to turn on the stove. I go back to the couch and unrinate in the jar. I drink it. But I am not focused. I expect it to be easy to consume. Halfway through it starts to come back up. Drinking urine is much harder without the cannabis and the DXM. I focus my mind, repress the vomit, and drink again. The taste of urine is all over the inside of my mouth. Covering my teeth, my gums, my tongue. I go into the bathroom and brush furiously. I use mouthwash. I can still taste it. It's okay. It's just a taste. I repress the urge to be disgusted. This is the taste test. Taste is the second test. The mushrooms don't taste too bad but they are hard to stomach. The urine tastes bad but it is easy to stomach once you have it down. The contents of the saucepan smell like vomit.
I am surprised how much time has passed. The trance I entered was incredibly deep. So deep that I didn't know I was on a couch. When I started to emerge, I was nowhere. In non-space. I am close to a raw Amanita experience. I can do this. As long as I keep drinking my urine, and keep meditating. I'm going to need to move the saucepan into the meditation room so I can purge into it again without walking halfway across the house.
7:52 pm
I fill up the bowl with soup. Put the bowl and the empty saucepan down on the table beside the candles, which have burnt down halfway. The soup tastes like vomit. The stomach acid masks the taste of everything else. I sit down and eat it with a spoon. It is easier to eat than the urine, but there' s a lot of it. Maybe a litre. At one point, I lose concentration and vomit into my mouth. I keep my lips tight and swallow. My mouth is full of vomitted soup. It takes two swallows to get it down. I keep eating. More than halfway through, I stop. It's getting difficult. My stomach feels full and slightly irritated. I decide to take a break and lie down.
I lie down and meditate, breathing out with the "So-Ma" mantra. My body relaxes down to a tiny tight muscle in my right shoulder blade. I keep meditating and it slowly gives.
8:10 pm
I get up and urinate in the jar. I drink it and throw it up within two minutes, along with the soup. I need to go lie down again.
9:05 pm
I get up and urinate in the jar. Drink it. I pour the remaining soup into the saucepan and put it on the stove. Go to lie down. Twitching a lot. It's coming. I'm going to do it. Can hardly walk. Experiencing paralysis.
9:54 pm
Pee. Drink it. Go lie down on my bed. Breathe in deep, exhale and recite my mantra.
Soma. Soma. Soma. Soma. Soma.
Each breath is deeper and longer than the last. Eventually I start breathing at such a slow rate that I can't even tell if I am breathing. I start to stretch outwards, towards infinity. Time is heavily distorted. I fall into a trance.
pm
I go deep, into the abyss. My breathing continues to slow down, or time continues to slow down, until it becomes practically nothing. I come close to infinity, I think. But I don't reach it. Without cannabis and/or dissociatives, it is a very difficult state to achieve.
At some point, a being offers me 80 billion dollars to return to reality. The offer was a mistake, like something said off-hand. If somebody says, "I'll give you a million dollars if I can have a sip of your cherry Cola," you don't expect them to pay. You give them a sip. But the temptation was too much for me. I really believed, as you do with Soma, that what was being said was real. This is where the deliriant classification comes from. Belief. So, I started returning to my body. The being, that offered me the money, told me that it wasn't theirs to begin with. That they shouldn't have offered it. So, I compromised. I said I'll take a million. After all, a million is a drop in the ocean when you're talking about 90 billion. But still, it felt wrong. So I compromised more. I told the being, I will take a small amount of cash. So small, that they won't even notice. Just enough to get me by. Still, it felt wrong.
There was another voice, encouraging me to take the cash and run. Fuck the consequences. It said:
"For a guy who's just made 80 billion dollars, you don't seem all that happy. If I was you, I'd be laughing hysterically. I'd be enjoying myself."
He's right, I thought. And I started laughing. This sick joyless laugh. I appeared back in my bedroom, laughing/yelling at the top of my voice. I realized I had been doing this for some time. Yelling the words, "Ha ha ha," in a deep slow voice. Like a mantra.
Upon returning to reality, it became clear that the money did not exist. At first, I was disappointed that it didn't exist. I started to think, maybe this drug is a deliriant.
I was only partially back in my body the first time I got out of bed. Walking through the house was like a dream. My body was just a ghost in samsara. Nothing more. A vessel. I guided it, from a long distance, to the bathroom. Then, I returned to bed and focused on returning my spirit to my body.
The first convulsion was minor. I shook a little bit, as if I had been electrocuted. Afterwards, I found myself closer to reality. I experienced about six or seven convulsions, increasing in intensity, over the course of about twenty minutes. I concluded after the fifth, that it was over, that I had returned. I felt as lucid as I normally would. I was awake, in my bedroom.
Then the second last convulsion hit me. My entire body thrashed on the bed for about thirty seconds. It felt like I was being thrown around by some unknown force. My body was bouncing half a foot off the mattress. When it stopped I was out of breath, and in shock. Surely, I thought, that was the end. I had returned to reality. It was over.
The final convulsion was almost paranormal. I thrashed for what felt like five minutes, flipping around on the mattress like a fish out of water. Finally I landed on the floor at the foot of my bed. I fell down to my knees, and apologized. Suddenly, I understood the meaning of the trip.
Since having a divine experience, I have been trying to capitalize on it. It has crossed my mind, more than once, to start a church. Mostly for the benefit of others. I no longer fear death and I want to share that fearlessness with the rest of the world. But I also want to be recognized as a prophet. Recognized as the guy who finally captured God. This is why I haven't been able to return to that enlightened state. Because reaching enlightenment has created this arrogance. After experiencing something so incredible, I am no longer humble enough to experience it again. Because I associate the extraordinary with myself.
This is my biggest criticism of religion. In Catholicism/Christianity, there is the priests and the pope. In Hinduism, the yogins. In Buddhism, the masters and the Dalai Lama. In Judaism, the Rabbis. In every religion, there is a position of power. Or a divine position. Certain men, like the Dalai Lama, are considered to be almost God-like. Which, considering the nature of Buddhism, is rather absurd. It is the final temptation of enlightenment: to boast. And, by boasting, we cease to be enlightened.
Capitalizing on a spiritual event. Selling out God for fame or money or respect. Becoming a religious celebrity. This is what I am being educated about. This latest trip simulated my capitalization of the divine. I sold my spiritual state for 80 billion dollars. Then I awoke to discover that the money never really existed. Most people would conclude delirium. And that's fine, if that's your inclination.
Personally, I believe visions should be treated like dreams. You can dream about paddling a cone down an endless river and coming to a fork in the stream, then wake up and just right it off as a dream. Or you can meditate on it and try and uncover it's meaning. Similarly, you can have a vision about inheriting 80 billion dollars of someone else's money that does not exist and right it off as delusion. Or you can meditate on it and try and uncover it's meaning.
I treat all of my Muscaria experiences like dreams. My interpretations are open to interpretation. I try not to prematurely set anything in concrete. I will think about this experience, as I have contemplated all of my divine experiences, for the weeks to come. Sometimes it takes me a long time to unravel the mysteries I am faced with. Dissociatives help achieve a higher state of enlightenment, but they confuse me. Same with cannabis.
Amanita Muscaria by itself is not intoxicating. Intoxication is the wrong word. Throughout the entire experience I was perfectly lucid. Extremely clear. Even at the peak of the trip. Returning to reality is a choice, not a question of sobering up. When I reappeared in my bedroom, I was not stoned or drunk. I was, in fact, more sober than I am when I'm sober.
After some time, I went back to sleep.
7th July, 2012 (New Financial Year, Day 7)
9:30 am
I feel incredibly calm and relaxed. My back, which is usually the cause of severe discomfort, is like jelly. I believe that the meditation, spasm and convulsions are good for my muscles. Every time I have Muscaria I feel like I've been healed. With each experience, I become calmer and more relaxed. I feel physically better, and I am at peace.
I have a bath. My mind is swimming with the experiences from last night. Although it was not the strongest Muscaria trip I've ever had, it is - perhaps - the clearest. It is the fifth time I have had a Soma breakthrough. All five of them have been the strongest drug experiences in my life. I don't even like calling them drug experiences. Because that cheapens them. They are spiritual awakenings. Not to be associated with recreational drug abuse. Not to be put in the same category as hollow drugs such as ecstasy and alcohol. There is no comparison between Soma and anything else. It is extraordinary. Beyond categorization.
I go to work. There is a twenty minute wait for the bus. I sit down, cross-legged, on the side of the road, reading "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying". Later, a Chinese co-worker engages me in a discussion about Buddhism. He is clearly very pleased to meet a young Australian that is genuinely interested in his religion. I talk to him for half an hour about infinity and the end/beginning of the universe. We talk about Christianity and Judaism. But mostly about traditional (not Tibetan) Buddhism. It is a wonderful conversation. Buddhism is so close to the divine. I cannot discuss my drug experiences with him, due to the stigma of drug use. Which is funny, considering how deliriants have been associated throughout the centuries with Buddhism. Datura and Amrita/Soma/Amanita Muscaria are, in my opinion, Buddha's drugs. The similarities between the "deliriant" class of drugs and the writings of the Buddha are uncanny. While I suspect that Christianity evolved from Muscaria, I am almost certain that Buddhism did. Either that or Datura, which I am yet to experiment with.
It's funny that someone two and a half thousand years ago can take the same drug as me and be revered as a God, while I am unable to even mention my experience for fear of persecution. I personally think there is very little difference between myself and Buddha. By that, I don't mean that I am a God. I mean neither of us are Gods. He is just a man, like me, unravelling the mysteries of the universe.
On the way home from work, I stop in the park and meditate briefly under a pine tree.
I remember playing video games when I was a kid. Sometimes, you had to fail in order to work out how to get past certain sections. You had to die. Then, next time, you'd know that certain platforms would give way or whatever. Muscaria is similar. With each failed experience, I learn what not to do. Next time I know not to give in to temptation, no matter how tempting. If I am offered 80 billion dollars again, I will believe it. That is how Soma works. You believe. So, I will have to turn it down. Whether or not it exists in reality is not the point. I will believe it exists. So I will truly believe that I am turning down billions of dollars for a divine experience. Given the choice between anything and the divine, I must chose the divine.
It is invaluable; everything must be sacrificed for nirvana.
18.9 grams (15 caps, 3.9 stems) plus 10.7 grams (stuff at bottom of evaporator, mostly stems) = not enough. I go to the park to get the last two fresh specimens of the season. Surprisingly I find five caps. Three of them are immature, but I pick them anyway. I only leave one, which is pre-premature. A tiny button. Really, I should wait for them all to mature but I'm too busy to keep coming back every day. And I'm eager to experience infinity again.
4:30 pm
I break up the four caps and put them on the top tray of my evaporator at sixty degrees celsius. There has to be a way to prepare them quickly. I have to work in the morning so I need to eat them in the next hour and a half.
I find a recipe that says you can saute them in a frying pan with butter. So I take them out of the evaporator and chuck them in a pan. Put a pot of boiling water on the stove and add the 29.6 grams of powdered caps/stems. After about fifteen minutes, I add leftover soup from yesterday containing: condensed cream of mushroom soup, pak choy, red pepper, basil, salt and pepper. Add some fresh choy sum leaves. It smells good. The mushrooms in the frying pan smell really good as well. I love the aroma of Muscaria.
I add the mushrooms from the frying pan into the soup and simmer it for another ten minutes, then turn off the stove and dish half of it into a massive bowl. I eat quickly, in order to ensure that all of the drug is absorbed at the same time. I figure this will increase my chances. The soup tastes good. I am cheating. Skipping the taste test. Also, since I am consuming it with other food, I am skipping the nausea test.
I found this video online of an old hippy eating raw Muscaria caps. Raw is better, spiritually, he says. When I saw the video, frankly, I thought he was a whacko. Now I understand. The more nausea the better. It helps to put you into the right meditative mindset. Helps you to focus, right from the word go. But I'm not ready for that. I have a lot to learn about meditation and mind control. For the time being, I'm happy to skip the first two steps. One day, I will be strong enough to consume this mushroom raw. There is no rush.
5:30 pm
I finish the first bowl of soup and turn the stove back on.
5:40 pm
The soup is simmering. I pour it into the bowl, emptying the saucepan, and turn off the stove.
5:46 pm
I eat quickly, again. Halfway through the bowl, I start to feel sick. I try to force myself to continue, to get it all down, but every time I have another mouthful the nausea increases. I need to stop and let it digest a bit. I pour the remaining soup back into the saucepan.
The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying talks about three meditation techniques.
1. Focused breathing.
2. Focusing on an object.
3. Reciting a mantra.
I've decided to do all of them. I set up a double candle stick and some incense, before making the soup. The lights are off in the house. The smoke from the incense is rising around the candle flames. I lie down and stare at it, taking deep breaths.
The nausea kicks in really hard. I have to focus all of my energy to prevent myself from vomitting instantly. I focus on the candle. Then I close my eyes. When I lose focus again, I open them and watch the flame flicker. The nausea is building up. It's getting harder and harder to not vomit. But it's all psychological. I can prevent it. I concentrate. The nausea increases. Finally, I give in. I decide that I can't do it anymore and the vomit comes flooding out. I walk to the kitchen, holding my mouth. Vomit a bit onto the carpet. Then on the kitchen floor. I make it to the stove and vomit into the saucepan. If I can drink my own urine, I can drink my own vomit. I grab a jar from the kitchen, and go back to lie down.
6:20 pm
I lie down and breathe. As I breathe out, I chant "Soma". After a long time, maybe a thousand repetitions, I stop chanting. An unknown amount of time passes.
I emerge from a deep trance and go into the kitchen to turn on the stove. I go back to the couch and unrinate in the jar. I drink it. But I am not focused. I expect it to be easy to consume. Halfway through it starts to come back up. Drinking urine is much harder without the cannabis and the DXM. I focus my mind, repress the vomit, and drink again. The taste of urine is all over the inside of my mouth. Covering my teeth, my gums, my tongue. I go into the bathroom and brush furiously. I use mouthwash. I can still taste it. It's okay. It's just a taste. I repress the urge to be disgusted. This is the taste test. Taste is the second test. The mushrooms don't taste too bad but they are hard to stomach. The urine tastes bad but it is easy to stomach once you have it down. The contents of the saucepan smell like vomit.
I am surprised how much time has passed. The trance I entered was incredibly deep. So deep that I didn't know I was on a couch. When I started to emerge, I was nowhere. In non-space. I am close to a raw Amanita experience. I can do this. As long as I keep drinking my urine, and keep meditating. I'm going to need to move the saucepan into the meditation room so I can purge into it again without walking halfway across the house.
7:52 pm
I fill up the bowl with soup. Put the bowl and the empty saucepan down on the table beside the candles, which have burnt down halfway. The soup tastes like vomit. The stomach acid masks the taste of everything else. I sit down and eat it with a spoon. It is easier to eat than the urine, but there' s a lot of it. Maybe a litre. At one point, I lose concentration and vomit into my mouth. I keep my lips tight and swallow. My mouth is full of vomitted soup. It takes two swallows to get it down. I keep eating. More than halfway through, I stop. It's getting difficult. My stomach feels full and slightly irritated. I decide to take a break and lie down.
I lie down and meditate, breathing out with the "So-Ma" mantra. My body relaxes down to a tiny tight muscle in my right shoulder blade. I keep meditating and it slowly gives.
8:10 pm
I get up and urinate in the jar. I drink it and throw it up within two minutes, along with the soup. I need to go lie down again.
9:05 pm
I get up and urinate in the jar. Drink it. I pour the remaining soup into the saucepan and put it on the stove. Go to lie down. Twitching a lot. It's coming. I'm going to do it. Can hardly walk. Experiencing paralysis.
9:54 pm
Pee. Drink it. Go lie down on my bed. Breathe in deep, exhale and recite my mantra.
Soma. Soma. Soma. Soma. Soma.
Each breath is deeper and longer than the last. Eventually I start breathing at such a slow rate that I can't even tell if I am breathing. I start to stretch outwards, towards infinity. Time is heavily distorted. I fall into a trance.
pmI go deep, into the abyss. My breathing continues to slow down, or time continues to slow down, until it becomes practically nothing. I come close to infinity, I think. But I don't reach it. Without cannabis and/or dissociatives, it is a very difficult state to achieve.
At some point, a being offers me 80 billion dollars to return to reality. The offer was a mistake, like something said off-hand. If somebody says, "I'll give you a million dollars if I can have a sip of your cherry Cola," you don't expect them to pay. You give them a sip. But the temptation was too much for me. I really believed, as you do with Soma, that what was being said was real. This is where the deliriant classification comes from. Belief. So, I started returning to my body. The being, that offered me the money, told me that it wasn't theirs to begin with. That they shouldn't have offered it. So, I compromised. I said I'll take a million. After all, a million is a drop in the ocean when you're talking about 90 billion. But still, it felt wrong. So I compromised more. I told the being, I will take a small amount of cash. So small, that they won't even notice. Just enough to get me by. Still, it felt wrong.
There was another voice, encouraging me to take the cash and run. Fuck the consequences. It said:
"For a guy who's just made 80 billion dollars, you don't seem all that happy. If I was you, I'd be laughing hysterically. I'd be enjoying myself."
He's right, I thought. And I started laughing. This sick joyless laugh. I appeared back in my bedroom, laughing/yelling at the top of my voice. I realized I had been doing this for some time. Yelling the words, "Ha ha ha," in a deep slow voice. Like a mantra.
Upon returning to reality, it became clear that the money did not exist. At first, I was disappointed that it didn't exist. I started to think, maybe this drug is a deliriant.
I was only partially back in my body the first time I got out of bed. Walking through the house was like a dream. My body was just a ghost in samsara. Nothing more. A vessel. I guided it, from a long distance, to the bathroom. Then, I returned to bed and focused on returning my spirit to my body.
The first convulsion was minor. I shook a little bit, as if I had been electrocuted. Afterwards, I found myself closer to reality. I experienced about six or seven convulsions, increasing in intensity, over the course of about twenty minutes. I concluded after the fifth, that it was over, that I had returned. I felt as lucid as I normally would. I was awake, in my bedroom.
Then the second last convulsion hit me. My entire body thrashed on the bed for about thirty seconds. It felt like I was being thrown around by some unknown force. My body was bouncing half a foot off the mattress. When it stopped I was out of breath, and in shock. Surely, I thought, that was the end. I had returned to reality. It was over.
The final convulsion was almost paranormal. I thrashed for what felt like five minutes, flipping around on the mattress like a fish out of water. Finally I landed on the floor at the foot of my bed. I fell down to my knees, and apologized. Suddenly, I understood the meaning of the trip.
Since having a divine experience, I have been trying to capitalize on it. It has crossed my mind, more than once, to start a church. Mostly for the benefit of others. I no longer fear death and I want to share that fearlessness with the rest of the world. But I also want to be recognized as a prophet. Recognized as the guy who finally captured God. This is why I haven't been able to return to that enlightened state. Because reaching enlightenment has created this arrogance. After experiencing something so incredible, I am no longer humble enough to experience it again. Because I associate the extraordinary with myself.
This is my biggest criticism of religion. In Catholicism/Christianity, there is the priests and the pope. In Hinduism, the yogins. In Buddhism, the masters and the Dalai Lama. In Judaism, the Rabbis. In every religion, there is a position of power. Or a divine position. Certain men, like the Dalai Lama, are considered to be almost God-like. Which, considering the nature of Buddhism, is rather absurd. It is the final temptation of enlightenment: to boast. And, by boasting, we cease to be enlightened.
Capitalizing on a spiritual event. Selling out God for fame or money or respect. Becoming a religious celebrity. This is what I am being educated about. This latest trip simulated my capitalization of the divine. I sold my spiritual state for 80 billion dollars. Then I awoke to discover that the money never really existed. Most people would conclude delirium. And that's fine, if that's your inclination.
Personally, I believe visions should be treated like dreams. You can dream about paddling a cone down an endless river and coming to a fork in the stream, then wake up and just right it off as a dream. Or you can meditate on it and try and uncover it's meaning. Similarly, you can have a vision about inheriting 80 billion dollars of someone else's money that does not exist and right it off as delusion. Or you can meditate on it and try and uncover it's meaning.
I treat all of my Muscaria experiences like dreams. My interpretations are open to interpretation. I try not to prematurely set anything in concrete. I will think about this experience, as I have contemplated all of my divine experiences, for the weeks to come. Sometimes it takes me a long time to unravel the mysteries I am faced with. Dissociatives help achieve a higher state of enlightenment, but they confuse me. Same with cannabis.
Amanita Muscaria by itself is not intoxicating. Intoxication is the wrong word. Throughout the entire experience I was perfectly lucid. Extremely clear. Even at the peak of the trip. Returning to reality is a choice, not a question of sobering up. When I reappeared in my bedroom, I was not stoned or drunk. I was, in fact, more sober than I am when I'm sober.
After some time, I went back to sleep.
7th July, 2012 (New Financial Year, Day 7)
9:30 am
I feel incredibly calm and relaxed. My back, which is usually the cause of severe discomfort, is like jelly. I believe that the meditation, spasm and convulsions are good for my muscles. Every time I have Muscaria I feel like I've been healed. With each experience, I become calmer and more relaxed. I feel physically better, and I am at peace.
I have a bath. My mind is swimming with the experiences from last night. Although it was not the strongest Muscaria trip I've ever had, it is - perhaps - the clearest. It is the fifth time I have had a Soma breakthrough. All five of them have been the strongest drug experiences in my life. I don't even like calling them drug experiences. Because that cheapens them. They are spiritual awakenings. Not to be associated with recreational drug abuse. Not to be put in the same category as hollow drugs such as ecstasy and alcohol. There is no comparison between Soma and anything else. It is extraordinary. Beyond categorization.
I go to work. There is a twenty minute wait for the bus. I sit down, cross-legged, on the side of the road, reading "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying". Later, a Chinese co-worker engages me in a discussion about Buddhism. He is clearly very pleased to meet a young Australian that is genuinely interested in his religion. I talk to him for half an hour about infinity and the end/beginning of the universe. We talk about Christianity and Judaism. But mostly about traditional (not Tibetan) Buddhism. It is a wonderful conversation. Buddhism is so close to the divine. I cannot discuss my drug experiences with him, due to the stigma of drug use. Which is funny, considering how deliriants have been associated throughout the centuries with Buddhism. Datura and Amrita/Soma/Amanita Muscaria are, in my opinion, Buddha's drugs. The similarities between the "deliriant" class of drugs and the writings of the Buddha are uncanny. While I suspect that Christianity evolved from Muscaria, I am almost certain that Buddhism did. Either that or Datura, which I am yet to experiment with.
It's funny that someone two and a half thousand years ago can take the same drug as me and be revered as a God, while I am unable to even mention my experience for fear of persecution. I personally think there is very little difference between myself and Buddha. By that, I don't mean that I am a God. I mean neither of us are Gods. He is just a man, like me, unravelling the mysteries of the universe.
On the way home from work, I stop in the park and meditate briefly under a pine tree.
I remember playing video games when I was a kid. Sometimes, you had to fail in order to work out how to get past certain sections. You had to die. Then, next time, you'd know that certain platforms would give way or whatever. Muscaria is similar. With each failed experience, I learn what not to do. Next time I know not to give in to temptation, no matter how tempting. If I am offered 80 billion dollars again, I will believe it. That is how Soma works. You believe. So, I will have to turn it down. Whether or not it exists in reality is not the point. I will believe it exists. So I will truly believe that I am turning down billions of dollars for a divine experience. Given the choice between anything and the divine, I must chose the divine.
It is invaluable; everything must be sacrificed for nirvana.
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