Walkaway
Bluelighter
I Flushed 15 Grams of DXM Down the Toilet Last Week
Prior to his ketamine-related death, author D.M. Turner had become increasingly convinced that ketamine was a "Frankenstein molecule" which did not obey the traditional shamanic rules. For the past several years, I have struggled with the intellectual issues surrounding psychedelics, especially those psychedelics which have proved most useful in my own development: LSD, DMT, 5-MeO-DMT, ketamine, and DXM. I find myself very much in agreement with Turner's model (as metaphor, not dogma). While DXM and ketamine have been productive of much useful insight and information, they also have subtle effects on my personality which I do not find desirable. I find a tendency for myself to become more self-centered. I find myself suffering from a loss of ambition. I find my emotional and perceptual responses to be blunted, as though, even after I've come down, there's still some distance between myself and the world. The dissociatives are incredibly useful substances for exploring the mind/body connection, near death experiences, and out of body experiences on an experimental basis, but I have grown to feel that, especially at the higher doses, but even at the lower ones, given consistent use, dissociatives represent a refusal of one's embodiment, a sort of Gnostic rejection of the physical world to go float in disembodied bliss. I have come to feel that if I am going to be alive, I shouldn't spend a substantial portion of my life dead, in the Void. A further quality of both DXM and ketamine which has increasingly come to concern me might best be labeled as "psychedelic smack." I have obsevred in myself and in friends the conviction that if one just keeps dosing, some incredible, life-changing, world-shattering insight is just within reach...except that the tendency is for this dim abstraction to recede just as one nears it, necessitating yet another dose... I'm not saying that I'll never use ketamine or DXM again, but they will not be ccupying nearly so central a place in my medicine cabinet.
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Cheers,
Cliff
Prior to his ketamine-related death, author D.M. Turner had become increasingly convinced that ketamine was a "Frankenstein molecule" which did not obey the traditional shamanic rules. For the past several years, I have struggled with the intellectual issues surrounding psychedelics, especially those psychedelics which have proved most useful in my own development: LSD, DMT, 5-MeO-DMT, ketamine, and DXM. I find myself very much in agreement with Turner's model (as metaphor, not dogma). While DXM and ketamine have been productive of much useful insight and information, they also have subtle effects on my personality which I do not find desirable. I find a tendency for myself to become more self-centered. I find myself suffering from a loss of ambition. I find my emotional and perceptual responses to be blunted, as though, even after I've come down, there's still some distance between myself and the world. The dissociatives are incredibly useful substances for exploring the mind/body connection, near death experiences, and out of body experiences on an experimental basis, but I have grown to feel that, especially at the higher doses, but even at the lower ones, given consistent use, dissociatives represent a refusal of one's embodiment, a sort of Gnostic rejection of the physical world to go float in disembodied bliss. I have come to feel that if I am going to be alive, I shouldn't spend a substantial portion of my life dead, in the Void. A further quality of both DXM and ketamine which has increasingly come to concern me might best be labeled as "psychedelic smack." I have obsevred in myself and in friends the conviction that if one just keeps dosing, some incredible, life-changing, world-shattering insight is just within reach...except that the tendency is for this dim abstraction to recede just as one nears it, necessitating yet another dose... I'm not saying that I'll never use ketamine or DXM again, but they will not be ccupying nearly so central a place in my medicine cabinet.
--
Cheers,
Cliff
