RhythmSpring
Bluelighter
I was 18, and in New York City, searching for something that didn't exist. Or maybe it was inside me. Either way, I was a bit strung out and feeling like I lacked something important. But I didn't know it.
I met up with this guy in his early 30s I recently met--a newly recovered addict, a highly intellectual law student. He had cured himself of addiction with one Ayahuasca session, and "everything else" with LSD, he said. Or, the other way around. I forget. He was pretty darn charismatic.
The plan was to take some white-on-white 'cid and go to the "Entheogenic Salon" at Alex Grey's place--not a rave, but it was a rave by my newbie standards, having not experienced anything like it before. Hardstyle crazy electronic music, loud, dark-ish, gently fading blacklights highlighting layers of colors on the ever-intricate paintings, making them shift whether you were tripping or not. Observing the lines change around while on a half tab of acid provided a very intense contemplation of the "realness" of what I was witnessing, one that I could not come to a conclusion about--so I gave up.
I was amazed at the social atmosphere, totally new to me. When the acid kicked in, I was directionless. I only knew one person there, and I barely knew him. I was more overwhelmed by the music than enjoying it, but sort of appreciating the energy behind it. I observed people... weird people, amazingly beautiful people, amazingly strong people, etc.
There was this kind of EDM that was comprised completely of bodily noises (coughing, sneezing, burping, etc.) It took me a while to realize what it was, and when I did I sort of appreciated the cleverness. But I was still effing weirded out. In fact, around the same time, I became hyper-aware of my own body. I could feel each organ in my body. But it was in a highly uncomfortable way. I began freaking out, internally, panicked, directionless, feeling alone in this massive energy explosion. I thought myself into loops, worrying, analyzing, knowing full well I was isolating myself from direct experience, but I couldn't do anything about it.
To get out of myself, I watched Alex Grey paint. I was by far the most engrossed person there, in his every motion, facial expression. It was perfect. His bodily form was perfect, and to watch a man doing what he loves very skillfully was just beautiful and inspiring to watch. He had one foot in front of the other, and I imagined that his painting was a kind of perpetual step forward through a portal of light that represented human evolution.
After a while, my own engrossment grossed me out, so I went elsewhere to seek... something. I found my "friend," and he was hanging out with a reeally really cool girl in her 20s. Like, really really cool. She was like a crystalline goddess. She told me she had a recent awakening due to smoking DMT. I hadn't really heard about it at the time, so was intrigued. As the conversation progressed, it gradually morphed into telepathy. She was saying things like, "And like, ya know? And then I was like... and like... right? n stuff. you know?" etc. I forget the actual words but it was something equally contentless. But somehow, I understanded her story perfectly. At another point, she shared with me some of her poetry, undoubtedly inspired by her newfound DMT-inspired consciousness. The poetry *took* me there, man. I could feel it ascending my consciousness progressively, until the end, when she stopped, and I said, "Whoa." I was flabbergasted. I made a good connection with this girl. She made me feel safe and inspired. She gave me her email address, and I kept it for years. About a year ago, I threw it out, in an attempt to purify my life in some way. I regret it, now. I must realize that when people offer me something, they mean it. : /
I hope I meet her again.
Still panicking, however, I went to my friend and told him I was scared. He said, "What are you scared of?" I thought, perfectly good question. But I could not articulate what it was. I think I must have said that I was "stuck in my head." The talking about it did nothing to resolve it. Although he was outwardly loving and charismatic, there was still something very cold in the way he related to people. Reductionistic. Still in an egotistical "I'm so great," way. He gave me about 50mg of MDMA to help soften the trip.
The cid and MDMA didn't synergize at all. It was like a psychedelic panic attack with now an undercurrent of warm openness. I joked to myself that I was giving myself PTSD and treating myself for PTSD in the same night. What was so traumatic, you ask? My self-image was shit. My self esteem had been 100% stripped from me. I saw myself as a forever-alone lunatic trapped inside a an uncontrollable shell-facade of empty cheer.
We went back to his apt, witnessed the sunrise, and worried that I was perma-tripping. I was still tripping, and he was surprised. It had been 12 hours, and I wasn't coming down. Eventually, of course, I did, later that day. At some point I cried.
In the wake of this was a dual feeling of both shell-shock and afterglow (from the MDMA).
Sometimes I wonder if I had received a DOx. But I think it was just really poor set and setting.
At one point during the night, my friend told me that it's easier to be on more drugs than less. While this made sense, I don't regret dosing so low. The atmosphere was not my thing. I realize now that I'd be much more in my element in a forest, with only the sound of nature to be heard. I am a peaceful tripper, not a LET'S ROCK OUT MAN tripper. Not yet, anyway.
Thanks for reading.
I met up with this guy in his early 30s I recently met--a newly recovered addict, a highly intellectual law student. He had cured himself of addiction with one Ayahuasca session, and "everything else" with LSD, he said. Or, the other way around. I forget. He was pretty darn charismatic.
The plan was to take some white-on-white 'cid and go to the "Entheogenic Salon" at Alex Grey's place--not a rave, but it was a rave by my newbie standards, having not experienced anything like it before. Hardstyle crazy electronic music, loud, dark-ish, gently fading blacklights highlighting layers of colors on the ever-intricate paintings, making them shift whether you were tripping or not. Observing the lines change around while on a half tab of acid provided a very intense contemplation of the "realness" of what I was witnessing, one that I could not come to a conclusion about--so I gave up.
I was amazed at the social atmosphere, totally new to me. When the acid kicked in, I was directionless. I only knew one person there, and I barely knew him. I was more overwhelmed by the music than enjoying it, but sort of appreciating the energy behind it. I observed people... weird people, amazingly beautiful people, amazingly strong people, etc.
There was this kind of EDM that was comprised completely of bodily noises (coughing, sneezing, burping, etc.) It took me a while to realize what it was, and when I did I sort of appreciated the cleverness. But I was still effing weirded out. In fact, around the same time, I became hyper-aware of my own body. I could feel each organ in my body. But it was in a highly uncomfortable way. I began freaking out, internally, panicked, directionless, feeling alone in this massive energy explosion. I thought myself into loops, worrying, analyzing, knowing full well I was isolating myself from direct experience, but I couldn't do anything about it.
To get out of myself, I watched Alex Grey paint. I was by far the most engrossed person there, in his every motion, facial expression. It was perfect. His bodily form was perfect, and to watch a man doing what he loves very skillfully was just beautiful and inspiring to watch. He had one foot in front of the other, and I imagined that his painting was a kind of perpetual step forward through a portal of light that represented human evolution.
After a while, my own engrossment grossed me out, so I went elsewhere to seek... something. I found my "friend," and he was hanging out with a reeally really cool girl in her 20s. Like, really really cool. She was like a crystalline goddess. She told me she had a recent awakening due to smoking DMT. I hadn't really heard about it at the time, so was intrigued. As the conversation progressed, it gradually morphed into telepathy. She was saying things like, "And like, ya know? And then I was like... and like... right? n stuff. you know?" etc. I forget the actual words but it was something equally contentless. But somehow, I understanded her story perfectly. At another point, she shared with me some of her poetry, undoubtedly inspired by her newfound DMT-inspired consciousness. The poetry *took* me there, man. I could feel it ascending my consciousness progressively, until the end, when she stopped, and I said, "Whoa." I was flabbergasted. I made a good connection with this girl. She made me feel safe and inspired. She gave me her email address, and I kept it for years. About a year ago, I threw it out, in an attempt to purify my life in some way. I regret it, now. I must realize that when people offer me something, they mean it. : /
I hope I meet her again.
Still panicking, however, I went to my friend and told him I was scared. He said, "What are you scared of?" I thought, perfectly good question. But I could not articulate what it was. I think I must have said that I was "stuck in my head." The talking about it did nothing to resolve it. Although he was outwardly loving and charismatic, there was still something very cold in the way he related to people. Reductionistic. Still in an egotistical "I'm so great," way. He gave me about 50mg of MDMA to help soften the trip.
The cid and MDMA didn't synergize at all. It was like a psychedelic panic attack with now an undercurrent of warm openness. I joked to myself that I was giving myself PTSD and treating myself for PTSD in the same night. What was so traumatic, you ask? My self-image was shit. My self esteem had been 100% stripped from me. I saw myself as a forever-alone lunatic trapped inside a an uncontrollable shell-facade of empty cheer.
We went back to his apt, witnessed the sunrise, and worried that I was perma-tripping. I was still tripping, and he was surprised. It had been 12 hours, and I wasn't coming down. Eventually, of course, I did, later that day. At some point I cried.
In the wake of this was a dual feeling of both shell-shock and afterglow (from the MDMA).
Sometimes I wonder if I had received a DOx. But I think it was just really poor set and setting.
At one point during the night, my friend told me that it's easier to be on more drugs than less. While this made sense, I don't regret dosing so low. The atmosphere was not my thing. I realize now that I'd be much more in my element in a forest, with only the sound of nature to be heard. I am a peaceful tripper, not a LET'S ROCK OUT MAN tripper. Not yet, anyway.
Thanks for reading.
hehe!