sdxyln
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Aug 16, 2020
- Messages
- 731
My last two mushroom experiences were bummers. The first time I got about two grams that did nothing. The second time was a shit batch dried and without any potency. I got ripped off badly again when last year a Czech scoundrel of a dealer fucked off with my money.
Whatever. A couple of weeks a new opportunity presented itself and I jumped on it immediately. 36 hours later I received six good grams of golden teachers. I got inside my room with a bit of paranoia that the odour on the package was strongly emanating but upon taking a smell I doubt anything would have aroused any suspicion. It sucked that on the day a gang of amoral thugs, whom my most neighbour likes to call friends, were hanging outside so I thought it best to stay inside and let the magic unfold.
When I first looked at the dried up mushrooms and their golden caps, I was smitten, and felt signs of a victory very late. Nonetheless, the mushrooms were here with me, finally, and no amount of waiting would have made any thing more perfect, I thought. At first I ate half thinking I would save the rest for another day and trip outside at a garden, but then maybe a heroic journey would bring me relief after all the hard work, I thought again. Once all the mushrooms were inside my stomach, I realised I still have got some of the harmala remaining from last year's DMT experiments. I took an entire spoonful.
Nervous energy got to me mere moments after the consumption. There is absolutely nothing which I organised or atleast tried to anticipate. In a vague attempt I tried making a playlist but did not have the patience so let one long song play. I covered myself up with a freshly washed bedsheet and sat beside the bed feeling safe but irked a bit because of the tosser of a neighbour.
The come up was quite fast. Objectively I doubt that because perhaps my sense of time keeping was altered more by mental dissonance than the effects of psilocybin itself, at first anyway. Then I saw the image of a wild mushroom appear in my sight out of darkness, as the thought clouds were slowly and silently replaced by a growing influence of the alien and fungi entity. Respect the mushroom. Respect the fungi. Respect it.
The effects were potentiated, I feel, about twice the original dosage thanks to the harmalas. I have decent tryptamine experience and have had the earth-shattering and physical DMT experience on more than one occasion, so if I had to guess conservatively, the intensity felt closer to about 10 grams or more.
By the next few moments I was entirely in grips of the experience and it was not going unfold like does the steady flow of a brook. I was going to be travelling through mental vortexes and make my way down to the ground yet oddly without any thought loops (LSD-25 is notorious for me with those). The onset itself was like the culminating point of a mystical experience. Then it took a seriously religious overtone wherein I thought to be an anomaly compared with the rest of my bumfucked city infested with men who pray to Allah and be done with it.
I looked up and took a glance at the window panes and the glass with its spiral designs was full of life and the sheer beauty of the sight immediately reminded me of Schopenhauer and the descriptions of an aesthetic experience. Quite frankly, I thought and was convinced, no one should really be allowed to grasp and indeed comprehend this amount of goodness because the truth about the wretchedness of existence is always lurking beneath the surface whether one is experiencing euphoria or is forced by the power of his will to have a reckoning with that which is.
This was the overall turning point because I was presented with a choice and I made the decision to be miserable, without going the other way, which would have meant stepping out and admiring the sky and feeling a bit of the breeze. It was probably for the best because I had still not moved in completely and all the stuff lying outside would have annoyed me. I stuck with it.
The descent into a psychedelic inner-world city Scape began. I felt terribly lonely and wishing for someone. My inner dialogue wanted to help but that voice rang of one who is really desolate. I thought of Schopenhauer again and felt comfort at the sight of my copy of his book. The idea of reading a passage or two was simply out of the question. I took a few steps here and there but the dog was making a lot of noise. It felt nice that the dog was outside.
Thoughts about working on a routine sprang up again and consumed me for a while. Recent memories of walking around the block reminded me that my life has changed. I recalled being like a visitor going about different areas and doing some exploration here and there without coming across or making any true friend. This persistent knowing of an interloper has dominated my life. I want out.
In my imagined city I had vivid conversations as a fully individualised man with a variety of characters including that part of myself, the instinct which came alive on one side, in all those times when I was gobsmacked drunk from before. It felt compassion for me and let me know should I need him again, he would be there. This guy, I saw, lived on the floor below me, inside the experience. It was a way of getting done with all the pain and suffering of years that can easily cross more than a lifetime.
Once the plateau hit I was surfing with ease. The feeling was lovely and my ego died. Then I remembered that my ego was dying so it came back with a vengeance and the grasping began all over again, but for that tiny moment, I experienced more than a Schopenhauerish Shunyata. I was amazed and helpless both at the same time. It went past me just like that! Yet I can recall what it was like, and I'm grateful for that because such a token would easily redeem the world if only one could obtain it back from the DMT realms. On mushrooms, very possible. LSD-25 ego deaths are lacking the emotion. You are left as the pure subject of knowing but the body is greatly connected. This makes sense because less than 5% of it makes way into the brain. LSD-25 is broken down largely in the torso area.
I spent the rest of the time integrating the first half but a lot of the precious time went into reacting at the events which took place mentally because of the intensity of their realness. These furniture inside my room had come alive and felt like benevolent beings at my aid before, and now, I was talking to them in an odd and strange way. When I was sitting, the hallucinations were real and organic ones polar opposite to the synthetic and fiberish feel of LSD-25 hallucinations. My legs were morphing in and out of the visual field as if an outside force was acting upon the physical world rather than the inadequate and wholly unsatisfying feeling of oneself making up one hallucination, like on LSD-25.
This is why I am absolutely stoked to eat a fresh batch sometime soon but outside. That would truly make up for a psychedelic experience unlike any other so far had. All of my travails have been towards ensuring for this goal to turn reality. What I have known for the past six or more years mentally will be coming to physical fruition. If something like even this experience were possible before the darkest of my days then I would have cheated fate out of dealing me the shittiest deck of cards one could be handed out in Barleycorn's anguishing company. Yet the mushrooms have to find you, right?
I have terrible tinnitus in both ears and am myopic. The tinnitus causes visual snow which, I felt, had been exacerbated after a hardcore LSD-25 session. I have noticed improvements with both. The intensity of the ringing is the same but is a lot less noticeable just like some of the most distressing obsessions I had picked up in the years past under the drink spell. It's been two weeks and I am all ready feeling a new man.
For a medicinal fungi to be outlawed and banned for being a narcotic is a crime as heinous as the denial of basic human rights. Moreover, these things are not like any other substances but are vital organisms within the ecosystem. If mankind is to respect our place in the universe then the fungi should have its own set of rights, which I doubt is very far away from happening, especially in non-Asiatic cultures like that of Germany and England a distant second.
Whatever. A couple of weeks a new opportunity presented itself and I jumped on it immediately. 36 hours later I received six good grams of golden teachers. I got inside my room with a bit of paranoia that the odour on the package was strongly emanating but upon taking a smell I doubt anything would have aroused any suspicion. It sucked that on the day a gang of amoral thugs, whom my most neighbour likes to call friends, were hanging outside so I thought it best to stay inside and let the magic unfold.
When I first looked at the dried up mushrooms and their golden caps, I was smitten, and felt signs of a victory very late. Nonetheless, the mushrooms were here with me, finally, and no amount of waiting would have made any thing more perfect, I thought. At first I ate half thinking I would save the rest for another day and trip outside at a garden, but then maybe a heroic journey would bring me relief after all the hard work, I thought again. Once all the mushrooms were inside my stomach, I realised I still have got some of the harmala remaining from last year's DMT experiments. I took an entire spoonful.
Nervous energy got to me mere moments after the consumption. There is absolutely nothing which I organised or atleast tried to anticipate. In a vague attempt I tried making a playlist but did not have the patience so let one long song play. I covered myself up with a freshly washed bedsheet and sat beside the bed feeling safe but irked a bit because of the tosser of a neighbour.
The come up was quite fast. Objectively I doubt that because perhaps my sense of time keeping was altered more by mental dissonance than the effects of psilocybin itself, at first anyway. Then I saw the image of a wild mushroom appear in my sight out of darkness, as the thought clouds were slowly and silently replaced by a growing influence of the alien and fungi entity. Respect the mushroom. Respect the fungi. Respect it.
The effects were potentiated, I feel, about twice the original dosage thanks to the harmalas. I have decent tryptamine experience and have had the earth-shattering and physical DMT experience on more than one occasion, so if I had to guess conservatively, the intensity felt closer to about 10 grams or more.
By the next few moments I was entirely in grips of the experience and it was not going unfold like does the steady flow of a brook. I was going to be travelling through mental vortexes and make my way down to the ground yet oddly without any thought loops (LSD-25 is notorious for me with those). The onset itself was like the culminating point of a mystical experience. Then it took a seriously religious overtone wherein I thought to be an anomaly compared with the rest of my bumfucked city infested with men who pray to Allah and be done with it.
I looked up and took a glance at the window panes and the glass with its spiral designs was full of life and the sheer beauty of the sight immediately reminded me of Schopenhauer and the descriptions of an aesthetic experience. Quite frankly, I thought and was convinced, no one should really be allowed to grasp and indeed comprehend this amount of goodness because the truth about the wretchedness of existence is always lurking beneath the surface whether one is experiencing euphoria or is forced by the power of his will to have a reckoning with that which is.
This was the overall turning point because I was presented with a choice and I made the decision to be miserable, without going the other way, which would have meant stepping out and admiring the sky and feeling a bit of the breeze. It was probably for the best because I had still not moved in completely and all the stuff lying outside would have annoyed me. I stuck with it.
The descent into a psychedelic inner-world city Scape began. I felt terribly lonely and wishing for someone. My inner dialogue wanted to help but that voice rang of one who is really desolate. I thought of Schopenhauer again and felt comfort at the sight of my copy of his book. The idea of reading a passage or two was simply out of the question. I took a few steps here and there but the dog was making a lot of noise. It felt nice that the dog was outside.
Thoughts about working on a routine sprang up again and consumed me for a while. Recent memories of walking around the block reminded me that my life has changed. I recalled being like a visitor going about different areas and doing some exploration here and there without coming across or making any true friend. This persistent knowing of an interloper has dominated my life. I want out.
In my imagined city I had vivid conversations as a fully individualised man with a variety of characters including that part of myself, the instinct which came alive on one side, in all those times when I was gobsmacked drunk from before. It felt compassion for me and let me know should I need him again, he would be there. This guy, I saw, lived on the floor below me, inside the experience. It was a way of getting done with all the pain and suffering of years that can easily cross more than a lifetime.
Once the plateau hit I was surfing with ease. The feeling was lovely and my ego died. Then I remembered that my ego was dying so it came back with a vengeance and the grasping began all over again, but for that tiny moment, I experienced more than a Schopenhauerish Shunyata. I was amazed and helpless both at the same time. It went past me just like that! Yet I can recall what it was like, and I'm grateful for that because such a token would easily redeem the world if only one could obtain it back from the DMT realms. On mushrooms, very possible. LSD-25 ego deaths are lacking the emotion. You are left as the pure subject of knowing but the body is greatly connected. This makes sense because less than 5% of it makes way into the brain. LSD-25 is broken down largely in the torso area.
I spent the rest of the time integrating the first half but a lot of the precious time went into reacting at the events which took place mentally because of the intensity of their realness. These furniture inside my room had come alive and felt like benevolent beings at my aid before, and now, I was talking to them in an odd and strange way. When I was sitting, the hallucinations were real and organic ones polar opposite to the synthetic and fiberish feel of LSD-25 hallucinations. My legs were morphing in and out of the visual field as if an outside force was acting upon the physical world rather than the inadequate and wholly unsatisfying feeling of oneself making up one hallucination, like on LSD-25.
This is why I am absolutely stoked to eat a fresh batch sometime soon but outside. That would truly make up for a psychedelic experience unlike any other so far had. All of my travails have been towards ensuring for this goal to turn reality. What I have known for the past six or more years mentally will be coming to physical fruition. If something like even this experience were possible before the darkest of my days then I would have cheated fate out of dealing me the shittiest deck of cards one could be handed out in Barleycorn's anguishing company. Yet the mushrooms have to find you, right?
I have terrible tinnitus in both ears and am myopic. The tinnitus causes visual snow which, I felt, had been exacerbated after a hardcore LSD-25 session. I have noticed improvements with both. The intensity of the ringing is the same but is a lot less noticeable just like some of the most distressing obsessions I had picked up in the years past under the drink spell. It's been two weeks and I am all ready feeling a new man.
For a medicinal fungi to be outlawed and banned for being a narcotic is a crime as heinous as the denial of basic human rights. Moreover, these things are not like any other substances but are vital organisms within the ecosystem. If mankind is to respect our place in the universe then the fungi should have its own set of rights, which I doubt is very far away from happening, especially in non-Asiatic cultures like that of Germany and England a distant second.
