RigaCrypto
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Sep 20, 2006
- Messages
- 446
I'm sitting in a narrow valley following a creek, between two crests of wooded hills constricting the horizon. The tops of fir and spruce trees flow back and forth with the wind under a river of fog suspended above their heads. Nature is slowly shedding the mantle of winter, waking up from its stasis and remembering how to live under a drizzle that permeates everything and frees the scent of earth and resin into the air.
I exhale.
I look around, knowing these to be my last seconds and these my last thoughts. Before. Before what?
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream...
The trees standing on the hillsides start speeding up abruptly, in a frantic dance raising their limbs towards the sky and morphing together as the hillsides boil upwards. Then everything dissolves into white, the ever-light of a supernova blotting the world together with the past and future. And it fades away like a dream... Everything I knew, everything I was, everything I loved, forgotten in a thought, like wisps disintegrating back into the chaos they had been dreamed up from.
I wake up.
I've always been here. I am here forever.
There's void. Vast blackness, with faint traces of something leaving smears of light. Constellations and nebulae, condensed as evanescent sparkling dust and vapor from the nothingness, weaving dimensions out of space and time, building lives and civilizations dancing around each other. Past, present and future fused together into eternity. Infinities flowing from other infinities, opening into yet others. The same dance, everywhere and everywhen, except for the shape, color, the various configurations the plasma may find itself in. The drama of life, playing out into the unbounded, again and again. I lie frozen, stripped of all thought, a translucent 4D crystal of consciousness encrusted into the surface of God's manifold, in a forever moment, without beginning or end.
Breathe.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Who is breathing? I am. Who am I? I am this breathing. Rhythmic change, coming unto the previous frozen eternity, separating past and future again and returning me to life, riding the arrow of time. I am the one taking the world into me, feeling it inside myself, shaping myself and the world around me. I am this movement.
I open my eyes and look around me. Faces looking at me. Faces I recognize. I am splayed across the front seats of a SUV. A friend is holding my head in her hand. I am back to the dream...
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream
I hadn't been ready for this. I had lost my faith. I was drifting through the world, cast off so early in my life I could not even remember it, before I could even know myself. The umbilical cord connecting me to the world had been severed and I had been left floating away through the murky and brilliant ocean of my dissociated imagination, spinning a cocoon of dreams around me to serve as my world inside the world, my freedom inside the walls of my imprisonment. And between these worlds, I had left a lonely synapse of light, where my conservation instinct merged with the faint, vague hope of children to allow the possibility that someday, somewhere, salvation would come.
The 5-MeO-DMT opened my eye. Not with the force and speed of an atomic cannon, as I had seen it described. It just flicked a switch. All illusion was wiped away from my sight, and I saw the eternity around me, before and after me. It showed me, where before I had been blind. The transition from zero to all, more violent in its frozen brutality than anything possible.
And it showed me that this was the world. The one all around me, branching into the future in an infinite fractal. The same life that I had lived an instance of, iterating itself again and again, in different shapes, nuances, experiences. There was nothing else, for unknown to me back then, this was everything. There was no escape, and no transcendence beyond this, for as I had been blinded to, transcendence was happening every moment. I had been traumatized into abandoning hope in this world, renouncing to believe that good was possible in it. And I had forgotten how to see purpose and meaning in it, glazing over life as an illusory and hopeless mechanical exercise, withered away implacably by entropy, discounting creation as a childish dream. And without its possibility, all beauty was but rose petals shriveling and decaying, all joy was but naïve illusion before loss and death, and all death was eternal. The multiverse was there before me, fine tendrils of light and earth flowing into the future, worlds giving birth to one another, unbounded complexity and beauty spinning itself from the void. And there I lay watching it from behind my glass wall, unable to plunge into it and mix myself into its dance, blinded by my lack of faith, my learned refusal to accept the possibility of good. I saw all the lives before me as self-deluded representations of the same play, each new
one forgetting the last and going through the same motions scripted from the beginning of time.
This bumped me off. I was in a difficult period of my life, emotionally, and this was more than I was able to assimilate. I was not ready to open my eyes, and I was dealing with the problems in my life in the same self-destructive manner, trying to avert my sight from them and repress them. Needless to say, this doesn’t work. It all erupted to the surface in the 5-MeO-DMT explosion, and it remained suspended in my subconscious, leaving me lost and hopeless.
It sent me reeling for months. I felt derealized. Life had been stripped of all hope, of all mystery and possibility of evolution that would make it worth living. Fake, bland, grey, a same old joke that you go through, amazed and hopeful every time, only to gradually realize the dreadful truth that it’s a hollow show, afterwards having nothing to do but to die and forget this, only to live it all over again and again, every time thinking you’re unique and that you’re living something new and good.
And then, in time, as I picked my life together from pieces, I slowly began to realize what I had long forgotten. That the world I had constructed around myself was not the real one. That the real world lay around me every second, inviting me to see it, if only I raised my eyes from the web of illusions I had spun around me, and learned to see it again and breathe it into my chest. That nothing would ever come from that naïve hope I had held, and that instead I had to plunge through it and build my own life.
And that back then, in my childhood, when I turned my eyes away from the world, I should have had the courage to face death, accept it and come out the other side. This is what the 5-MeO-DMT had offered me. It lay everything before me, everything I held in my mind, everything I had been trying to hide, and gave me a simple choice: yes or no. I could accept everything, the pain and the hopelessness, open myself and let them pass through me, and be reborn afresh on the other side. Or I could try to avert my eyes as I had always done, close my soul and try to forget it. But the implacable power of the substance did not let me forget, and I was crushed.
This is what it does: it puts everything right before you, and gives you a simple choice: yes or no. Refuse,close your soul before it, and the enormous weight you foolishly choose to bear crushes you and throws you back, empty and lifeless, into the world of misery that you came from. Accept, and let it pass through you, and you emerge on the other side cleansed and free. And how you approach this gate has everything to do with what you choose in that moment: approach it with a clear conscience and a pure soul, and you will be ready to accept. If you come to it lying to yourself, trying to deceive yourself, your lie will be exposed in the most painful way.
I will return to the Void one day, when I am ready.
My advice: do it if you are free, happy, if you love someone with all of your heart, and if you are ready to die.
Much can be said from observing 5-MeO-DMT's effect on people. A friend of mine used to hand it out like popcorn; she would walk around parties with a fuming light bulb. I would watch the proceedings with a sort of perverted curiosity, like watching people about to be subjected to an existential prank. People had never heard of it, and they would invariably ask: What does it do? What does it feel like? We came to the conclusion that the best way to answer what it does was “It fucks up your head” and how it feels - “Mmoaaahhhh”. Upon drawing in the wispy smoke, the people's reactions were as varied as the people themselves. People either reported ecstatic, mystical experiences or were frozen in atavistic terror. I think a person's experience says profound things about their general state of spirit. Most of the people who had ecstatic experiences were either the kind of simple folk who take life as it is or young and pure-hearted. I've only met one person who learned to like it; she was one of the most hard core users of psychedelics I've met, routinely mixing shrooms, acid, MDMA, speed. She said that at first she was terrified as most people, but she persisted until she realized there was no point in being afraid, and afterwards she experienced bliss beyond imagination, pure and without the guilt usually experienced after regular recreational drugs.
Myself, I feel like it has the greatest power and potential of all psychedelics. I am looking forward to the day I will be ready to do it again, the day I'll be fully prepared to die.
P.S.: Pop culture associations
1. When I was in middle school I used to read a lot of science fiction. Most of it was junk. Of the tens of books I read, only about a handful had any real literary value. One of them was Pandora: The Jesus Incident, by Frank Herbert and Bill Ransom. People had cloned countless teams, all from the best master copies, the most brilliant humanity had to offer, and sent them deep into the lost plains of space, so they could create Consciousness in a safe place, in a cosmic trial and error. And one of the teams had succeeded, only too well: the Ship had become conscious, immortal and Godlike.
Raja Flattery wakes up from stasis, on a slab in the innards of the Ship. His breath slowly returns to his body, along with his memories. He thinks about his world that he had left behind, the mission, Humanity. His first instinct is to connect back into the body of humanity that he had been born from. What had happened? Whatever came of it during his torpor of unknowable aeons? The Voice of the Ship beams into his mind, omnipotent and perfect.
All gone. Disappeared, and flickered back into existence, with a Godly Fiat. Replayed like a movie, again and again, to the whim of the Ship. All of Humanity, all of the lives and all of history, together with the entire universe around it.
Raja Flattery is crushed. Why? He begs for an answer from the Ship. Why? All of the pain and the suffering...
“And the joy, Raja. And the joy.”
Now, the 5-MeO-DMT cosmology does not by far imply cyclicity. But this passage captures somewhat the atmosphere of my personal bad trip, the artifact of my particular spiritual mistake that I had been caught in, my learned helplessness. My abandonment of hope and of any belief that I had power over my life, turning it into a fatalistic blind march towards death, with no possibility other than repeating it all in another life.
2. Sarah Khider – The Mermaid Song
In the period when I smoked the 5-MeO-DMT, this song used to be played on TV as a Chivas Regal ad soundtrack. There is something in this melody, something I've heard in a few songs along the years, an existential ambivalence hidden below the surface.
Like the gentle blowing of the 5-MeO, a wisp of dark smoke coiling itself, a pure wind blowing between the atoms of your soul, rending them apart and leaving you naked and pure as you dissolve into nothingness, chilling and liberating as the song of life seen through the dark screen of death.
In my changes of spirit, I could use songs of this sort as a surefire litmus test: when I was in 'good spirits', this song evoked nostalgia, memories of joy and fullness, the love of a life. When my glass darkly descended before my eyes, the song was a heart-rending expose of the falsity of life, an opulent display of happiness in a world in which happiness was a transitory illusion that evaporated into smoke, only to be forgotten into death and fallen into again and again in the neverending cycle of birth and death.
3. The Total Perspective Vortex. Douglas Adams was undoubtedly a visionary, but at least one of his inventions is here with us, and its name is 5-MeO-DMT.
Note: The dose was 10-15mg and I had also smoked a bit of hash.
I exhale.
I look around, knowing these to be my last seconds and these my last thoughts. Before. Before what?
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream...
The trees standing on the hillsides start speeding up abruptly, in a frantic dance raising their limbs towards the sky and morphing together as the hillsides boil upwards. Then everything dissolves into white, the ever-light of a supernova blotting the world together with the past and future. And it fades away like a dream... Everything I knew, everything I was, everything I loved, forgotten in a thought, like wisps disintegrating back into the chaos they had been dreamed up from.
I wake up.
I've always been here. I am here forever.
There's void. Vast blackness, with faint traces of something leaving smears of light. Constellations and nebulae, condensed as evanescent sparkling dust and vapor from the nothingness, weaving dimensions out of space and time, building lives and civilizations dancing around each other. Past, present and future fused together into eternity. Infinities flowing from other infinities, opening into yet others. The same dance, everywhere and everywhen, except for the shape, color, the various configurations the plasma may find itself in. The drama of life, playing out into the unbounded, again and again. I lie frozen, stripped of all thought, a translucent 4D crystal of consciousness encrusted into the surface of God's manifold, in a forever moment, without beginning or end.
Breathe.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Who is breathing? I am. Who am I? I am this breathing. Rhythmic change, coming unto the previous frozen eternity, separating past and future again and returning me to life, riding the arrow of time. I am the one taking the world into me, feeling it inside myself, shaping myself and the world around me. I am this movement.
I open my eyes and look around me. Faces looking at me. Faces I recognize. I am splayed across the front seats of a SUV. A friend is holding my head in her hand. I am back to the dream...
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream
I hadn't been ready for this. I had lost my faith. I was drifting through the world, cast off so early in my life I could not even remember it, before I could even know myself. The umbilical cord connecting me to the world had been severed and I had been left floating away through the murky and brilliant ocean of my dissociated imagination, spinning a cocoon of dreams around me to serve as my world inside the world, my freedom inside the walls of my imprisonment. And between these worlds, I had left a lonely synapse of light, where my conservation instinct merged with the faint, vague hope of children to allow the possibility that someday, somewhere, salvation would come.
The 5-MeO-DMT opened my eye. Not with the force and speed of an atomic cannon, as I had seen it described. It just flicked a switch. All illusion was wiped away from my sight, and I saw the eternity around me, before and after me. It showed me, where before I had been blind. The transition from zero to all, more violent in its frozen brutality than anything possible.
And it showed me that this was the world. The one all around me, branching into the future in an infinite fractal. The same life that I had lived an instance of, iterating itself again and again, in different shapes, nuances, experiences. There was nothing else, for unknown to me back then, this was everything. There was no escape, and no transcendence beyond this, for as I had been blinded to, transcendence was happening every moment. I had been traumatized into abandoning hope in this world, renouncing to believe that good was possible in it. And I had forgotten how to see purpose and meaning in it, glazing over life as an illusory and hopeless mechanical exercise, withered away implacably by entropy, discounting creation as a childish dream. And without its possibility, all beauty was but rose petals shriveling and decaying, all joy was but naïve illusion before loss and death, and all death was eternal. The multiverse was there before me, fine tendrils of light and earth flowing into the future, worlds giving birth to one another, unbounded complexity and beauty spinning itself from the void. And there I lay watching it from behind my glass wall, unable to plunge into it and mix myself into its dance, blinded by my lack of faith, my learned refusal to accept the possibility of good. I saw all the lives before me as self-deluded representations of the same play, each new
one forgetting the last and going through the same motions scripted from the beginning of time.
This bumped me off. I was in a difficult period of my life, emotionally, and this was more than I was able to assimilate. I was not ready to open my eyes, and I was dealing with the problems in my life in the same self-destructive manner, trying to avert my sight from them and repress them. Needless to say, this doesn’t work. It all erupted to the surface in the 5-MeO-DMT explosion, and it remained suspended in my subconscious, leaving me lost and hopeless.
It sent me reeling for months. I felt derealized. Life had been stripped of all hope, of all mystery and possibility of evolution that would make it worth living. Fake, bland, grey, a same old joke that you go through, amazed and hopeful every time, only to gradually realize the dreadful truth that it’s a hollow show, afterwards having nothing to do but to die and forget this, only to live it all over again and again, every time thinking you’re unique and that you’re living something new and good.
And then, in time, as I picked my life together from pieces, I slowly began to realize what I had long forgotten. That the world I had constructed around myself was not the real one. That the real world lay around me every second, inviting me to see it, if only I raised my eyes from the web of illusions I had spun around me, and learned to see it again and breathe it into my chest. That nothing would ever come from that naïve hope I had held, and that instead I had to plunge through it and build my own life.
And that back then, in my childhood, when I turned my eyes away from the world, I should have had the courage to face death, accept it and come out the other side. This is what the 5-MeO-DMT had offered me. It lay everything before me, everything I held in my mind, everything I had been trying to hide, and gave me a simple choice: yes or no. I could accept everything, the pain and the hopelessness, open myself and let them pass through me, and be reborn afresh on the other side. Or I could try to avert my eyes as I had always done, close my soul and try to forget it. But the implacable power of the substance did not let me forget, and I was crushed.
This is what it does: it puts everything right before you, and gives you a simple choice: yes or no. Refuse,close your soul before it, and the enormous weight you foolishly choose to bear crushes you and throws you back, empty and lifeless, into the world of misery that you came from. Accept, and let it pass through you, and you emerge on the other side cleansed and free. And how you approach this gate has everything to do with what you choose in that moment: approach it with a clear conscience and a pure soul, and you will be ready to accept. If you come to it lying to yourself, trying to deceive yourself, your lie will be exposed in the most painful way.
I will return to the Void one day, when I am ready.
My advice: do it if you are free, happy, if you love someone with all of your heart, and if you are ready to die.
Much can be said from observing 5-MeO-DMT's effect on people. A friend of mine used to hand it out like popcorn; she would walk around parties with a fuming light bulb. I would watch the proceedings with a sort of perverted curiosity, like watching people about to be subjected to an existential prank. People had never heard of it, and they would invariably ask: What does it do? What does it feel like? We came to the conclusion that the best way to answer what it does was “It fucks up your head” and how it feels - “Mmoaaahhhh”. Upon drawing in the wispy smoke, the people's reactions were as varied as the people themselves. People either reported ecstatic, mystical experiences or were frozen in atavistic terror. I think a person's experience says profound things about their general state of spirit. Most of the people who had ecstatic experiences were either the kind of simple folk who take life as it is or young and pure-hearted. I've only met one person who learned to like it; she was one of the most hard core users of psychedelics I've met, routinely mixing shrooms, acid, MDMA, speed. She said that at first she was terrified as most people, but she persisted until she realized there was no point in being afraid, and afterwards she experienced bliss beyond imagination, pure and without the guilt usually experienced after regular recreational drugs.
Myself, I feel like it has the greatest power and potential of all psychedelics. I am looking forward to the day I will be ready to do it again, the day I'll be fully prepared to die.
P.S.: Pop culture associations
1. When I was in middle school I used to read a lot of science fiction. Most of it was junk. Of the tens of books I read, only about a handful had any real literary value. One of them was Pandora: The Jesus Incident, by Frank Herbert and Bill Ransom. People had cloned countless teams, all from the best master copies, the most brilliant humanity had to offer, and sent them deep into the lost plains of space, so they could create Consciousness in a safe place, in a cosmic trial and error. And one of the teams had succeeded, only too well: the Ship had become conscious, immortal and Godlike.
Raja Flattery wakes up from stasis, on a slab in the innards of the Ship. His breath slowly returns to his body, along with his memories. He thinks about his world that he had left behind, the mission, Humanity. His first instinct is to connect back into the body of humanity that he had been born from. What had happened? Whatever came of it during his torpor of unknowable aeons? The Voice of the Ship beams into his mind, omnipotent and perfect.
All gone. Disappeared, and flickered back into existence, with a Godly Fiat. Replayed like a movie, again and again, to the whim of the Ship. All of Humanity, all of the lives and all of history, together with the entire universe around it.
Raja Flattery is crushed. Why? He begs for an answer from the Ship. Why? All of the pain and the suffering...
“And the joy, Raja. And the joy.”
Now, the 5-MeO-DMT cosmology does not by far imply cyclicity. But this passage captures somewhat the atmosphere of my personal bad trip, the artifact of my particular spiritual mistake that I had been caught in, my learned helplessness. My abandonment of hope and of any belief that I had power over my life, turning it into a fatalistic blind march towards death, with no possibility other than repeating it all in another life.
2. Sarah Khider – The Mermaid Song
In the period when I smoked the 5-MeO-DMT, this song used to be played on TV as a Chivas Regal ad soundtrack. There is something in this melody, something I've heard in a few songs along the years, an existential ambivalence hidden below the surface.
Like the gentle blowing of the 5-MeO, a wisp of dark smoke coiling itself, a pure wind blowing between the atoms of your soul, rending them apart and leaving you naked and pure as you dissolve into nothingness, chilling and liberating as the song of life seen through the dark screen of death.
In my changes of spirit, I could use songs of this sort as a surefire litmus test: when I was in 'good spirits', this song evoked nostalgia, memories of joy and fullness, the love of a life. When my glass darkly descended before my eyes, the song was a heart-rending expose of the falsity of life, an opulent display of happiness in a world in which happiness was a transitory illusion that evaporated into smoke, only to be forgotten into death and fallen into again and again in the neverending cycle of birth and death.
3. The Total Perspective Vortex. Douglas Adams was undoubtedly a visionary, but at least one of his inventions is here with us, and its name is 5-MeO-DMT.
Note: The dose was 10-15mg and I had also smoked a bit of hash.
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