Sir Ron Pib
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2012
- Messages
- 643
“The Ethereal Rush Hour”
Ibogaine isn’t like anything else I’ve tried and is hard to describe, but I will try, though I can’t give an absolute as to the order of many of these events; the Iboga (hcl.75% / TA 25% ) was taken at a dosage of 20mg/kg following a fast of 24hrs.
Some time after consuming it there’s a strong inclination to lay down and close my eyes; the bee-like buzzing starts, there’s a higher pitch above and a low whooshing to my right; suddenly a red tree of life rug scrolls down like a theatre curtain, rippling as if in a breeze then disappears again; there was a feeling that this is a symbolic gift.
At some point I look up and I’m like ‘eh?’; there’s something above me – ‘someone’ has placed a decorative ornament at the point between ceiling and wall; studying it the best description (and of course words fail) is it’s a bowl or bucket chair fashioned from a clear bubbly ectoplasmic plastic-like substance and within it a beautiful leopard or perhaps an African golden cat, although at times just part of it exists; the head forming straight out of the ‘plastic’ and craning round to see me. I am fascinated and it’s fully real to me. It does something beyond physics and I’m briefly gobsmacked. It’s there a long time and returns later in the night to check up on me as some sort of guardian.
I purge violently three times in as many hours, taken over by retching; the third the worst with jolting dry heaving till I finally manage to dig deep enough to grasp and expel pure burning bile. F is helping me but I can’t see for trails, any movement produces extreme smearing of the visual field; wild streaks that seem alive.
Listening to Bwiti Iboga music I perceive the polyrhythms less as pulses in time and more as spiritual entities engaged in dance. In the periphery coy creatures jump and scurry secretively about their business
I keep seeing European people over and over, As they appear they are accepted as fully real; for example I turn to someone – am I in conversation with them I wonder, then it dawns on me – my eyes are actually shut and I’m technically alone
All night living things zip and fly, jump and climb around, perhaps even through me. There are cats everywhere; perhaps small jungle cats, certainly dozens of straightforward tabby cats, sometimes seen, sometimes felt.
At points I see the room or the cushions and my dog, whom I am lying next to in the dim light, and again remember my eyes are closed, I open them and see the scene is different to how I imagine, then realise haven’t actually opened my eyes and finally look properly and find things are really slightly differently placed.
I hear the rain start to pitter patter outside; my favourite meditation. The wind blows the curtain then I sink back into the depths
This is a long trip but the themes remain remarkably consistent all through; people, cats, the red magic carpet rug, the leopard, the seeing through closed eyes, then opening of false eyes followed by the genuine article. Mostly I feel hot and clammy, but uncovering I feel chilled very soon.
There’s so, so much going on it is hard to recall a lot now, but at some point in the early morning I am left with the impression that I’ve been lost in the crowded throng of some sort of ethereal rush hour
At points I become reflective about certain aspects of my personal history as well as current events and influences, though the train of thought is often displaced by the seemingly endless rapid procession of things and beings; work has been done in these areas before and at some point I feel or am told to leave this area of inquiry, it’s not needed currently; I can leave it and look to now and the future.
I need to evacuate what very little there is in my intestines, F is once again asleep so I carefully manage to navigate the rubbery ataxic trip to the toilet on my own, trails break up leaving splinters and curved shards of pure colour in the air.
‘Phzzz’ the single lit candle in the hall burns out
I travel inside my body, through it’s serrated piping network, analysing and wondering at the meaning of the intense pain in my gut. I’ve never been so purged or empty in my life; the systems now totally cleaned out – I’m an empty flesh tube lying on the floor in the darkness. This is relevant to my neurotic feeding patterns, endless stomach problems and also to what I think my physical limits are.
I’d read of Iboga’s effect on energy related metabolic enzymes and very much fancy I can feel it happening deep within the network of cells, frying away in my brain, speeding metabolism, clearing out residues, operating on me, healing. I feel suspended from normal life and functioning
Eventually morning comes and F rises. I remain horizontal for much of the ante meridian deep in thought and still in contact with the other side; the effects declining to a state of rock solid calm and “stimulation” of very long duration later on.
Post script and import
It’s no surprise Iboga wasn’t quite what I was expecting in some ways, but something definitely changed under it’s influence. Whilst absolutely not recreational or lightweight I felt it as benevolent; with a little more knowledge, planning and less sickness I feel I could have consumed slightly more than I did to good effect.
My drug use has luckily never fallen into really dysfunctional chaos. My obsessive devotion to constant Cannabis use hasn’t been subject to much form of internal control for absolutely years; despite it’s many medical and experiential virtues my use long ago went past anything beneficial; in some ways it has exacerbated my slightly autistic traits; I’ve lived in a anxiety ridden sedated bubble isolated from human contact (which often has meant little to me) and this psychological dependence has gradually spilt out to supplemental self medication; very regular, though not technically addicted, opiate use (opium/codeine/kratom)
Much more worrying and harmful has been my increasing daily use of alcohol to the tune of 50-75+ units a week with the implicit threat of potentially increasing beyond that and into something more akin to genuine alcoholism if left further unchecked.
That’s all over – this dawned on me as I lay there in the watched over darkness of the early morning, almost as a hope not to be trusted, then later more and more as something definite and known. No big fanfare or revelation – it’s just like a brake has been applied to many of my behaviours (not just escapist intoxicants) and the endless nagging compulsions have lost their motivating power.
I also did some research on cats in Africa and in relation to Bwiti, which seemed very relevant to me
Following the Iboga I had massive relief from my long-term depression for about four days. I feel renewed beyond the range of other psychedelics and I am engaging in life and people in a way I generally haven’t for a long time.
Later when I start having a few bad days, something is different; a new acceptance my life can’t be “all nirvana and strawberry jam” to use Huxley’s phrase (actually a critique of Gurdjieff) and the Iboga has set in place some better coping strategies that I hope will develop and carry me forward for a long time to come.
Ibogaine isn’t like anything else I’ve tried and is hard to describe, but I will try, though I can’t give an absolute as to the order of many of these events; the Iboga (hcl.75% / TA 25% ) was taken at a dosage of 20mg/kg following a fast of 24hrs.
Some time after consuming it there’s a strong inclination to lay down and close my eyes; the bee-like buzzing starts, there’s a higher pitch above and a low whooshing to my right; suddenly a red tree of life rug scrolls down like a theatre curtain, rippling as if in a breeze then disappears again; there was a feeling that this is a symbolic gift.
At some point I look up and I’m like ‘eh?’; there’s something above me – ‘someone’ has placed a decorative ornament at the point between ceiling and wall; studying it the best description (and of course words fail) is it’s a bowl or bucket chair fashioned from a clear bubbly ectoplasmic plastic-like substance and within it a beautiful leopard or perhaps an African golden cat, although at times just part of it exists; the head forming straight out of the ‘plastic’ and craning round to see me. I am fascinated and it’s fully real to me. It does something beyond physics and I’m briefly gobsmacked. It’s there a long time and returns later in the night to check up on me as some sort of guardian.
I purge violently three times in as many hours, taken over by retching; the third the worst with jolting dry heaving till I finally manage to dig deep enough to grasp and expel pure burning bile. F is helping me but I can’t see for trails, any movement produces extreme smearing of the visual field; wild streaks that seem alive.
Listening to Bwiti Iboga music I perceive the polyrhythms less as pulses in time and more as spiritual entities engaged in dance. In the periphery coy creatures jump and scurry secretively about their business
I keep seeing European people over and over, As they appear they are accepted as fully real; for example I turn to someone – am I in conversation with them I wonder, then it dawns on me – my eyes are actually shut and I’m technically alone
All night living things zip and fly, jump and climb around, perhaps even through me. There are cats everywhere; perhaps small jungle cats, certainly dozens of straightforward tabby cats, sometimes seen, sometimes felt.
At points I see the room or the cushions and my dog, whom I am lying next to in the dim light, and again remember my eyes are closed, I open them and see the scene is different to how I imagine, then realise haven’t actually opened my eyes and finally look properly and find things are really slightly differently placed.
I hear the rain start to pitter patter outside; my favourite meditation. The wind blows the curtain then I sink back into the depths
This is a long trip but the themes remain remarkably consistent all through; people, cats, the red magic carpet rug, the leopard, the seeing through closed eyes, then opening of false eyes followed by the genuine article. Mostly I feel hot and clammy, but uncovering I feel chilled very soon.
There’s so, so much going on it is hard to recall a lot now, but at some point in the early morning I am left with the impression that I’ve been lost in the crowded throng of some sort of ethereal rush hour
At points I become reflective about certain aspects of my personal history as well as current events and influences, though the train of thought is often displaced by the seemingly endless rapid procession of things and beings; work has been done in these areas before and at some point I feel or am told to leave this area of inquiry, it’s not needed currently; I can leave it and look to now and the future.
I need to evacuate what very little there is in my intestines, F is once again asleep so I carefully manage to navigate the rubbery ataxic trip to the toilet on my own, trails break up leaving splinters and curved shards of pure colour in the air.
‘Phzzz’ the single lit candle in the hall burns out
I travel inside my body, through it’s serrated piping network, analysing and wondering at the meaning of the intense pain in my gut. I’ve never been so purged or empty in my life; the systems now totally cleaned out – I’m an empty flesh tube lying on the floor in the darkness. This is relevant to my neurotic feeding patterns, endless stomach problems and also to what I think my physical limits are.
I’d read of Iboga’s effect on energy related metabolic enzymes and very much fancy I can feel it happening deep within the network of cells, frying away in my brain, speeding metabolism, clearing out residues, operating on me, healing. I feel suspended from normal life and functioning
Eventually morning comes and F rises. I remain horizontal for much of the ante meridian deep in thought and still in contact with the other side; the effects declining to a state of rock solid calm and “stimulation” of very long duration later on.
Post script and import
It’s no surprise Iboga wasn’t quite what I was expecting in some ways, but something definitely changed under it’s influence. Whilst absolutely not recreational or lightweight I felt it as benevolent; with a little more knowledge, planning and less sickness I feel I could have consumed slightly more than I did to good effect.
My drug use has luckily never fallen into really dysfunctional chaos. My obsessive devotion to constant Cannabis use hasn’t been subject to much form of internal control for absolutely years; despite it’s many medical and experiential virtues my use long ago went past anything beneficial; in some ways it has exacerbated my slightly autistic traits; I’ve lived in a anxiety ridden sedated bubble isolated from human contact (which often has meant little to me) and this psychological dependence has gradually spilt out to supplemental self medication; very regular, though not technically addicted, opiate use (opium/codeine/kratom)
Much more worrying and harmful has been my increasing daily use of alcohol to the tune of 50-75+ units a week with the implicit threat of potentially increasing beyond that and into something more akin to genuine alcoholism if left further unchecked.
That’s all over – this dawned on me as I lay there in the watched over darkness of the early morning, almost as a hope not to be trusted, then later more and more as something definite and known. No big fanfare or revelation – it’s just like a brake has been applied to many of my behaviours (not just escapist intoxicants) and the endless nagging compulsions have lost their motivating power.
I also did some research on cats in Africa and in relation to Bwiti, which seemed very relevant to me
Following the Iboga I had massive relief from my long-term depression for about four days. I feel renewed beyond the range of other psychedelics and I am engaging in life and people in a way I generally haven’t for a long time.
Later when I start having a few bad days, something is different; a new acceptance my life can’t be “all nirvana and strawberry jam” to use Huxley’s phrase (actually a critique of Gurdjieff) and the Iboga has set in place some better coping strategies that I hope will develop and carry me forward for a long time to come.
