zelmoswift
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Aug 24, 2020
- Messages
- 12
I have demons to face. I've been reading and researching about the benefits of psychedelics. Guided journeys are expensive. And then you have to deal with the weirdness of a stranger holding your hand and cooing to you while you're trying to see God. No matter how gentle, experienced and generous they are, there's always that bit of social pressure of dealing with another consciousness. I needed to face my demons alone.
The mushrooms sat on my shelf for a month while I waited for the house to be empty long enough for a deep trip. The day was coming and I ate clean, stopped drinking and smoking pot, got lots of rest and exercise in preparation. I had two and a half grams of Penis Envy and a gram and a half of I don't know what but I'd done a light dose and they were potent and pleasant.The Penis Envy is said to be about one a half times more potent than average so, I don't know, I was about to take five grams. I ground up the shrooms put them in tea and drank, hands trembling, praying the wife wouldn't return until I was somewhat normal. She does not approve and I didn't feel like a fight about this. I figured I had five hours.
I put on my sleep mask and my playlist and reclined in the dark and waited. It didn't take long. Geometric patterns formed and swirled in vaulted chambers. Faces and bodies poked out here and there. A sexual presence entered and I said "HELLO" but it went. I waited in readiness for my demons to appear. I just wanted to talk to them. Maybe fight if I had to but was ready to heed the advice of friends, accept what was shown to me.
My demons didn't show but Death came along in a hurry, announcing himself quite loudly. The patterns and the chamber turned black and I was told in no uncertain terms that I was going to die. I informed him that I was well aware of this fact but I wasn't likely to die tonight so kindly let me get on with what I came here for. Death shrugged and nodded but made himself known a few more times.
Amidst the psychedelic chambers I heard a voice and I felt compelled to listen. It may have been me in another form, it may have been a spirit guide, I don't know. But it knew the truth. There was a path of language and brambles of bullshit that it helped me to cut away. I was there for a reason and ironically, the reason I was there was to find solid ground back here at home. The voice was very firm with me and would not suffer any excuses or rationalization. When I drifted it would say, LISTEN AND ATTEND! which is really beautiful but also practical. Attend has multiple meanings and is a call to action, to be there, to look after things. I heard this all night. It was stern but reassuring. it gave me strength and comfort throughout the trip.
I'm in the vaulted pattern watching the geometry and faces and a voice (the voice?) told me that I created all this, everything. This was one thing I would not accept. It smelled like a trap. I asked if we could move on and we did. To practical matters.
The phrase LISTEN AND ATTEND ... TO THE PSYCHEDLIC BULLSHIT came to my head and I laughed. it was all wonderful and glorious and entertaining but again, the guide told me I had to sort out things at home. Everything I need is right here. All that matters is the look in the eyes of your loved ones, your friends and family. Behave in a manner that will allow you to look them right in the eye without shameful secrets. They love you and they want you to be with them. Just as I was lifting of even more, I tried to change the music on my phone and saw that there was a voicemail from a potential employer. I'm an artist and perhaps an entitled prick in that I want to create all the time but I do need a steady paycheck. Anyway, the sight of this message set me off into a bit of a panic. The voice told me to calm down, call back first thing in the morning AND TAKE THE DAMN JOB. Provide for your family. Despite the flaws in your marriage, your wife wants a nice home and she loves you. Provide. The voice was loud and clear and immovable on this matter. There was no financial miracle in the pipeline. Bear down and go to work. This is a gift. I quickly made peace with that. Skip ahead to today and I ace the interview. Will hear by Friday. It also doesn't mean the end of my art.
I was hydrating frequently and thus had to go to the bathroom every ten minutes, annoyingly. But the voice told me to LISTEN AND ATTEND to everything. Don't ignore your bladder. We'll wait here but don't turn on the light in the bathroom and DO NOT LOOK IN THE MIRROR. I obeyed except to turn on the light to clean the litter box. The room was vibrating. I saw shit and mold and cracks and death was there, grinning. Hey, buddy! Don't forget me. I smiled and winked back as the cat shit swirled down the toilet. The scoop left a sparkling trail and yes, there were flashes of blue light sparkling all around. This was really the only externalized hallucination aside from the trails and crawling patterns.
So I'm back in the room with the headphones on listening to Bach, my guide, my solace, my entertainer, my preacher, my friend (I'm a bit grandiose, sorry) and the vaulted moving geometry starts up again. It moves with the music. The word WORSHIP echoes. Oh, there's some tentacles! I've heard about this guy! But he didn't show himself much. I was led on questions on the nature of reality and tried to call out what sounded like lies and contradictions and would be led down a path towards nothing. I'd begin to realize "nothing". Then the patterns would flare heavenward and I'd feel a little rush of euphoria. And then I'd come back down to earth. That's not what I was here for. Ego dissolution is not for tonight.
Then, on to my intention. TO FACE THE DEMONS. So I went looking in the geometry for the devil and found shadows that went nowhere. I dug for trauma but it wasn't there or hidden from view. I opened my eyes. There was a representation of my demon, an artifact in my room. It's not a hallucination but an actual physical thing. It's a strong representation of what's killing me. Maybe you can piece it together to an extent. This thing that I had built up into a demonic, parasitic force that wanted to kill me was reduced to a little inanimate object. Just a thing. It's not alive. It doesn't want to eat me. It's just there.
My guide and Death seemed to team up at this point. They said if you want this path, take it. If you want to die, then commit, fully go for it. I realized this is not a supernatural monster. I have imbued it with power and that power is mine to take away. I have done so and I hope the effect lasts. I have no conscious desire to die. I was struck by the irony of the inevitability of death and our overwhelming urge to keep it at bay. And decided to embrace survival.
The aliens and gnomes and elves and gods were hovering about but despite the dose I'd taken, it wasn't time to see them. I had to sort my shit out here. Except for one thing. I felt I was sane enough to look in the mirror. I did and promptly turned into Jesus Christ, of course. We both burst out laughing at how ridiculous this seemed. But it was a beautiful moment.
Poetry started coming to me as I finally started to wander the apartment. I stood tall in the corner of our suite and thought I AM KING but in a melodramatic, kind of funny, theatrical way that also had meaning. I am the steward of this household. My wife is my queen and my kids are heirs. it sounds lofty but it was sweet and fun, like a shabby but heartwarming play. I felt like a king for the rest of the night and I'll go on and live by it. Not as a dictatorial monarch, but a kindly, if harried, steward.
LISTEN AND ATTEND. I did the dishes because my queen would come home and would be displeased. LISTEN AND ATTEND O KING, do the dishes, make sandwich, take a shower, smoke a joint. It was wonderful.
Ah poetry, some nice things came to me. Allow me to indulge my pretentiousness:
LISTEN AND ATTEND
For death awaits
In the psychedelic bullshit
Listen and attend
For it is glorious
And humble.
So much ineffability
down the toilet.
A wave collapses underfoot
In search of a subject
The dying king
in his tattered lawn chair.
Let us drink to illicit purposes
And pray that we have not been poisoned.
There is only breath,
Until there is not.
The rest is poetry
Sad and terrible
To behold.
The mushrooms sat on my shelf for a month while I waited for the house to be empty long enough for a deep trip. The day was coming and I ate clean, stopped drinking and smoking pot, got lots of rest and exercise in preparation. I had two and a half grams of Penis Envy and a gram and a half of I don't know what but I'd done a light dose and they were potent and pleasant.The Penis Envy is said to be about one a half times more potent than average so, I don't know, I was about to take five grams. I ground up the shrooms put them in tea and drank, hands trembling, praying the wife wouldn't return until I was somewhat normal. She does not approve and I didn't feel like a fight about this. I figured I had five hours.
I put on my sleep mask and my playlist and reclined in the dark and waited. It didn't take long. Geometric patterns formed and swirled in vaulted chambers. Faces and bodies poked out here and there. A sexual presence entered and I said "HELLO" but it went. I waited in readiness for my demons to appear. I just wanted to talk to them. Maybe fight if I had to but was ready to heed the advice of friends, accept what was shown to me.
My demons didn't show but Death came along in a hurry, announcing himself quite loudly. The patterns and the chamber turned black and I was told in no uncertain terms that I was going to die. I informed him that I was well aware of this fact but I wasn't likely to die tonight so kindly let me get on with what I came here for. Death shrugged and nodded but made himself known a few more times.
Amidst the psychedelic chambers I heard a voice and I felt compelled to listen. It may have been me in another form, it may have been a spirit guide, I don't know. But it knew the truth. There was a path of language and brambles of bullshit that it helped me to cut away. I was there for a reason and ironically, the reason I was there was to find solid ground back here at home. The voice was very firm with me and would not suffer any excuses or rationalization. When I drifted it would say, LISTEN AND ATTEND! which is really beautiful but also practical. Attend has multiple meanings and is a call to action, to be there, to look after things. I heard this all night. It was stern but reassuring. it gave me strength and comfort throughout the trip.
I'm in the vaulted pattern watching the geometry and faces and a voice (the voice?) told me that I created all this, everything. This was one thing I would not accept. It smelled like a trap. I asked if we could move on and we did. To practical matters.
The phrase LISTEN AND ATTEND ... TO THE PSYCHEDLIC BULLSHIT came to my head and I laughed. it was all wonderful and glorious and entertaining but again, the guide told me I had to sort out things at home. Everything I need is right here. All that matters is the look in the eyes of your loved ones, your friends and family. Behave in a manner that will allow you to look them right in the eye without shameful secrets. They love you and they want you to be with them. Just as I was lifting of even more, I tried to change the music on my phone and saw that there was a voicemail from a potential employer. I'm an artist and perhaps an entitled prick in that I want to create all the time but I do need a steady paycheck. Anyway, the sight of this message set me off into a bit of a panic. The voice told me to calm down, call back first thing in the morning AND TAKE THE DAMN JOB. Provide for your family. Despite the flaws in your marriage, your wife wants a nice home and she loves you. Provide. The voice was loud and clear and immovable on this matter. There was no financial miracle in the pipeline. Bear down and go to work. This is a gift. I quickly made peace with that. Skip ahead to today and I ace the interview. Will hear by Friday. It also doesn't mean the end of my art.
I was hydrating frequently and thus had to go to the bathroom every ten minutes, annoyingly. But the voice told me to LISTEN AND ATTEND to everything. Don't ignore your bladder. We'll wait here but don't turn on the light in the bathroom and DO NOT LOOK IN THE MIRROR. I obeyed except to turn on the light to clean the litter box. The room was vibrating. I saw shit and mold and cracks and death was there, grinning. Hey, buddy! Don't forget me. I smiled and winked back as the cat shit swirled down the toilet. The scoop left a sparkling trail and yes, there were flashes of blue light sparkling all around. This was really the only externalized hallucination aside from the trails and crawling patterns.
So I'm back in the room with the headphones on listening to Bach, my guide, my solace, my entertainer, my preacher, my friend (I'm a bit grandiose, sorry) and the vaulted moving geometry starts up again. It moves with the music. The word WORSHIP echoes. Oh, there's some tentacles! I've heard about this guy! But he didn't show himself much. I was led on questions on the nature of reality and tried to call out what sounded like lies and contradictions and would be led down a path towards nothing. I'd begin to realize "nothing". Then the patterns would flare heavenward and I'd feel a little rush of euphoria. And then I'd come back down to earth. That's not what I was here for. Ego dissolution is not for tonight.
Then, on to my intention. TO FACE THE DEMONS. So I went looking in the geometry for the devil and found shadows that went nowhere. I dug for trauma but it wasn't there or hidden from view. I opened my eyes. There was a representation of my demon, an artifact in my room. It's not a hallucination but an actual physical thing. It's a strong representation of what's killing me. Maybe you can piece it together to an extent. This thing that I had built up into a demonic, parasitic force that wanted to kill me was reduced to a little inanimate object. Just a thing. It's not alive. It doesn't want to eat me. It's just there.
My guide and Death seemed to team up at this point. They said if you want this path, take it. If you want to die, then commit, fully go for it. I realized this is not a supernatural monster. I have imbued it with power and that power is mine to take away. I have done so and I hope the effect lasts. I have no conscious desire to die. I was struck by the irony of the inevitability of death and our overwhelming urge to keep it at bay. And decided to embrace survival.
The aliens and gnomes and elves and gods were hovering about but despite the dose I'd taken, it wasn't time to see them. I had to sort my shit out here. Except for one thing. I felt I was sane enough to look in the mirror. I did and promptly turned into Jesus Christ, of course. We both burst out laughing at how ridiculous this seemed. But it was a beautiful moment.
Poetry started coming to me as I finally started to wander the apartment. I stood tall in the corner of our suite and thought I AM KING but in a melodramatic, kind of funny, theatrical way that also had meaning. I am the steward of this household. My wife is my queen and my kids are heirs. it sounds lofty but it was sweet and fun, like a shabby but heartwarming play. I felt like a king for the rest of the night and I'll go on and live by it. Not as a dictatorial monarch, but a kindly, if harried, steward.
LISTEN AND ATTEND. I did the dishes because my queen would come home and would be displeased. LISTEN AND ATTEND O KING, do the dishes, make sandwich, take a shower, smoke a joint. It was wonderful.
Ah poetry, some nice things came to me. Allow me to indulge my pretentiousness:
LISTEN AND ATTEND
For death awaits
In the psychedelic bullshit
Listen and attend
For it is glorious
And humble.
So much ineffability
down the toilet.
A wave collapses underfoot
In search of a subject
The dying king
in his tattered lawn chair.
Let us drink to illicit purposes
And pray that we have not been poisoned.
There is only breath,
Until there is not.
The rest is poetry
Sad and terrible
To behold.