This is my very detailed account of a mushroom trip I had recently. It's so detailed because:
1. I like writing
2. This account is also for my personal records, It is supposed to evoke every detail of the night
Please, I would love comments on any of the ideas that I present here.
This is written about two hours after I woke up from the trip:
Woah. I am struggling so hard to comprehend what happened last night, and put it into words.
But that’s why I love trip reports; the good ones are written by the brave and articulate who at least attempt to put into words what they felt. It is a very challenging thing to do.
Where the fuck do I begin…
We ate the shrooms. Four of us, embarking on this eagerly awaited psychedelic journey. Our doses varied from 2 - 2.8 of remarkably potent cubenesis dust. I decided to try something new: to combat the absolutely terrifying come-ups I have, I split my doses. I ate 1.2 then ~45mins later I took a small handle full of shrooms and at some point took another small handful, since I am a lazy fuck and did not want to weigh them out. There were nine people in the garage. Four original trippers (Carsina, Ben, Brother Jason and I), two Dj’s (Dropz and High Wizard Sully), one friend who hardly been exposed to alcohol (T), and two of them who were merely destined to embark on the journey with us (Ryan and Squiliam).
Three of the explorers, including me, had to watch the presidential debate and chat about it in a chat room to get extra credit in our social studies class. So we did that, after (of course) a couple hits from the bong. After a lot of failed planning and confusion we figured out our plan for the debate. The owner of the house, Carsina, went into the office. He needed the extra credit the most, so he needed to focus before we journeyed into our minds. Ben and I went upstairs with his sister’s laptop and tried to say productive smart things in the chat while watching it on his TV. We sounded like fucking retards (or at least I did). We kept switching back and fourth between identities, our teacher called us out, I was like fuck this shit I have a good grade in this class, and went down to rescue the lone tripper from the crowd of alcoholics.
(Come-up)
The moment I walked into the garage, I immediately felt surrounded by the DJ’s loud techno music, accompanied by the drunken screams of my friends. This was the first of many bad vibes to come from them. I had already gotten my first alerts and I was about to be drowned in this weird psychedelic uncomfortableness that I usually go through. Perhaps its hard for me because I become something different on shrooms, and while my sober body is screaming bloody murder my rational mind is hushing it, whispering “I’m freer this way, so shut the fuck up”. So I sat up there with my friends, starting to feel uncomfortable, observing the social atmosphere in the garage. I then started to experience a weird phenomenon on psychedelics: the intensified emotions that get transmitted through out the group. Eventually the two trippers receded from the chat room and came to the upstairs garage to experience this with me. Dropz had bought Ultra tickets. While he was buying tickets he was angry, with what I have no idea. He was getting worked up and it was clearly visible in the room. Seeing angry people on shrooms makes me feel uncomfortable since anger seems so stupid to my new brain. Why the fuck do people get angry? I feel like only certain types of people get angry and even though it is natural, we live in a society. It’s no longer survival of the fittest; control your anger since it is fucking pointless. This anger was clearly transmitted through the group and all of us on psychedelics interpreted this transmission the same way: uncomfortableness, “bad vibes”. Then he got his tickets and started screaming, jumping up and down, but everyone else was just blankly staring at him – It was weird – I actually yelled. I yelled “WOOOH!” as loud as I could. I was the only one who yelled with him. It’s what my intoxicated mind convinced me was socially acceptable to comfort the awkwardness. Shut up intoxicated mind, that was a dumb ass idea.
When I get bad feelings my number one solution is to change setting. So that is what I did. I led a small group downstairs, and of course the small group sparked the “wait, where are they going” and the whole group quickly followed along. I wanted to smoke on the trampoline. We could have smoked in his garage but my shroom mind has a love affair with nature. It is calming; it’s freer. I can look wherever I want, without the walls telling me what I can and cannot see. Stupid walls.
We smoked on the trampoline. I could not wrap my head around the fact that the other 5 were not tripping. One of the 5, Ryan had taken some and was not feeling it yet and a drunken Squilliam was debating whether he wanted to take them or not but nonetheless, everyone in the group seemed like they were tripping. It was probably just my shrooms mind yearning for group unity. Oh well.
After 30 minutes or so, his neighbors pulled up 30 feet away from the trampoline; with their headlights piercing and blinding us, they took away the cloak of darkness that we used to hide our illicit activities. Blacks and bubblers galore, we did not give a shit. We just wanted to be. This became our mantra for the night. We were just “being”.
Eventually we all dispersed. Most went back into the garage, but eventually the trippers split up into two and threes. Squilliam finally convinced himself it was his time to dive into the wonderful world of psychedelics; he took a gram or so and I was proud, to say the least.
I think it is a very mature and hard to grasp concept of doing shrooms not to get “fucked up” but for something more glorious.
I split off with my psychedelic Brother Jason. Every trip Brother Jason has been on a trip, I have been by his side. Jason and I’s original intention was to find somewhere in nature for him to pee and for me to puke. I usually like to puke on shrooms. I don’t like dealing with the discomfort in your stomach and I don’t want to embarrass myself by getting to a point where I “have” to puke. I like to be pro-active. So we start to slowly wonder into his back yard. Step by step, we carefully walk. I can barely see in front of me because of the abundance of darkness, and of course the hallucinations were not too helpful. I could faintly see that there were branches in the way. I trusted that there was something more behind them, so we pushed through them. We burst into the area, the branches snapped back into place, and we were in a completely different world: Narnia, as we called it.
(Peak)
It was a bonfire area. It had four long wooden benches in the shape of a square and these tall, majestic trees were huddled around it. We were enclosed from the rest of the group, sheltered from the moonlight. Not being able to see well was actually a cool thing. The darkness provided a canvass for my hallucinations to paint on. This dark, enclosed area would become our forum for the first of many mind-bending topics of discussion. But before I start to elaborate on our discussions, I want to go into who we are as people, so you have an idea of why these discussions – literally – changed all of us.
We all go to an all boys, catholic Highschool. We are not outcasts. We are not hippies, and beside from me, everyone who tripped is practically brand new to the deep world of psychedelics. We are normal teenage hormonal boys. We like to get drunk and fuck girls and make bad decisions. We are just now discovering the different ways to think about things. This was the first time that as men, we could talk about our views of religion. Our school shoves it down religion throat so it is not the most peaceful environment to field your opinions about religion.
This night we opened up together, and this is not the easiest thing for six boys to do. It takes maturity, which our new minds had bestowed upon us.
I puked, or at least I think I did, and Jason peed and while that was happening we sparked a conversation. We ended up sitting down and Brother Jason and I started to ramble. The biggest subject that we kept visiting is that no one, even the respected and looked-up to adults, knew what the fuck the universe is about. Priests, physicists, politicians, they all just take a stab at answering the question, but in reality they have no idea what is going on. They all rely on faith. Politicians do not know whether or not their bills will help the good of society, neither does a physicist know the big bang happened. We talked about how we also didn’t know what the fuck the universe is about or how it worked. We talked about our indecisiveness towards religion, our confusion to the meaning of life; in the end nobody really has any clue: we know nothing. We just need to be. We went on tangents about life, girlfriends, growing old and the sorts. We had this unique energy that kept our brains churning and spitting out new ideas and thoughts. I thought I had talked for hours.
Eventually our epic conversation cooled down – it might have been 20 minutes – god, don’t you love time dilation. I commented on how I saw gates all around me, the hallucinations were beautiful. We convinced ourselves to get up and go get bug spray. We went on a manhunt to find it, including being sucked in by Dropz and High Wizard Sully’s crazy electronic music. They just wanted me to listen to one more song. I succumbed, danced for a little, but realized that I can only handle a certain amount of loud music. I left, focused on finding bug spray.
We found it in his house after a while of searching. Brother Jason and I’s hallucinations were so blinding that it literally was in a box we looked in multiple times. We could not read the “OFF” bug spray label until we got the bottle close to our faces. We went onto the trampoline to hit the bubbler and smoke more blacks, and once again the whole group of nine was on the trampoline.
It was weird… very weird. For starters, 9 extroverts, sitting in a circle, all intoxicated, is not the best way to have a fun conversation. Also, we weren’t all tripping. High Wizard Sully, Dropz, and T were all drunk. Sully and Dropz seemed very loud. They played Jimmy Buffet on shitty iPhone speakers and it created these weird vibes. When I tried to go off on my tangents about how we are on a giant floating rock that is suspended in nothingness, they just shut me up. I felt constricted; smaller groups are always better. Ryan was coming-up and wanted to go to Narnia. So I followed along with Ben to show them the magic of Narnia, the forsaken trip sanctuary.
They were both tripping balls, and we were a little confused about what to do. I wanted to say lets sit down and talk about life, but my sober mind screamed at me “No, that’s gay”. So I sat down and eventually they followed. We didn’t get as crazy, balls-deep into life as I wanted, but I enjoyed the conversation. Then Ryan hit his peak and it hit fucking hard. Ryan stood up, unannounced, and started walking deeper into the forest. When Ben and I came to follow him, he turned us away. He wanted to be alone. I was so happy that he was doing that; Ryan fucking needed to find himself. Ben and I went on to the trampoline and told every one about Ryan’s meditation. Carsina was a little scared for him, but I told him to let him be.
He needed to just be.
Eventually the rest of trippers ended up in Narnia; there were six of us. The drunk people and the vibes their drug of choice was spreading had retired for the night. We were crazily energetic. My body felt like it had a subtle, slightly heated liquid coursing through my veins. I felt amazing and I had the confidence to say every thought on my constantly churning mind. Of course, we struggled through our words, but for the most part, after a couple stutters and a quick pause, we were able to gather ourselves and speak on behalf of this new, confident mind. We eventually got on to the topic of “The Egg”, a sort of philosophical infused story that had blown my mind away when I was sober. I got someone’s phone, stumbled through the Internet, found it and told every one to sit on the bench. All five of them sat on the bench, excited and anxious. I sat on the dirt facing them. I was about to get us thinking about things normal teenage boys minds would not dare to think about.
I slowly read it. I made every dramatic pause enticing and whispered the profound; I really tried hard to make this story animated. I found a new natural talent of mine, and I fucking loved it. Through out this whole time, the chosen 5 closed their eyes and let me paint the crazy idea this story conveyed in their mind. It was almost like meditation through literature. It was truly magical; the story seized us all.
When I finished “The Egg”, our trip took on this personal openness. This is what would put us in awe hours after our peaks.
Through simple, yet deep conversation, we literally developed new concepts of life. We were standing on the benches, bursting with energy and joy. At one point we talked in broken down wooden boat on the side of the Narnia. We were talking about religion and what we actually think about it, we were talking about growing up, being old, having kids. We opened up. We talked without limitation, and that’s why I fucking love mushrooms. When I am peaking I can say things without my social conscience screaming at me, telling me what to do.
All of us were slowly making a profound realization; everyone new something profound was happening, but nobody new what the fuck it was. It was unbelievable… all we were doing was talking.
I got up and explored a couple times by myself. His property is lined with barbwire, which fueled my hatred for limits. It felt so constricting; I can’t stand limits. So I convinced Ryan, one of my better friends, to let me lead him on an adventure. He trusted me to stretch the barbwire open for him, and I did the same for him. We were off into the wilderness; I had the flashlight and we were going to explore the beauty of the world.
I just wanted to be. We walked as I illuminated different plants and objects, making comments on them. We stumbled upon one of the weirdest terrains I had ever been on. This area was a sandy lake-swamp-forest hybrid. We walked around, but Ryan was full on peaking (he had took them later than me) and he was second-guessing this adventure. I asked him to just trust me, and for the most part he did pretty good. We walked around on a sandy trail commenting on the beauty of the world. We came upon a tree that reminded Ryan of the gigantic oak tree he had imagined when reading the parable of the mustard tree. It was awesome; it stood towering over us, but yet it felt friendly. We eventually got to a muddy part that I could not persuade Ryan to follow me through, so we decided to go back and share our secret with the rest of our friends.
They fucking loved it. We only had four of the six, but I took them around this huge marshy lake and simply did what I did with Ryan. Walked. I was confident that nothing was going to happen to us and they trusted me (for the most part). We walked and walked. I had no idea where I was going but I didn’t tell them that. We were just being. They followed me around the lake and through the mud that I couldn’t convince Ryan to go through. Eventually Carsina and Brother Jason waved their flashlight and in one single burst of group euphoria, we sprinted towards the light. Through tall grass, mud, and water we enthusiastically sprinted across the lake; it was like it was a recreation activity. Carsina told us we could have been shot. That’s fucking stupid, who the hell would be crazy enough to shoot me?
I was just being.
(Come-Down)
We all went back to Carsina’s trampoline and had our second group discussion. We sprawled out on the trampoline, and looked into the heavens. We started to talk about how some people are very superficial. When trying to talk to them, you seem to hit a wall where their thoughts go no deeper. We have a couple of friends like this. It interests us because there seems to be a separation between people who can do psychedelics and people who would loose there minds to the beast within them: the deep thinkers vs. the superficial. This connection was something I had always pondered. Are they not genetically capable of deep thought? Is it an absence of intelligence? Or is everyone deep thinkers and it’s just that someone has not evoked this side of them? I developed this weird separation from these people: they are primitive; they let their emotions control them.
As I lay on the trampoline, lulled by the subtle ambiance of the night, my physical tiredness started to wash over me. We finally came to a decision to move our conversation inside. Our conversation inside was a little different in character, but we basically repeated what we had concluded in the previous discussions. Everyone was a lot more lucid now so we were able to articulate our thoughts better. New points were brought up and we engaged in fun, engaging, but intellectual conversation. The same boys who love to get drunk and party and fit in were sitting around a Ping-Pong table, sincerely and seriously talking about life.
We had matured. I believe that every trip teaches you something new about yourself and that every trip has the potential to be learned from. This trip actually matured me, and I still can’t wrap my damn head around it.
We eventually got into bed, but still enchanted by the magic of conversation we continued talking about what just happened. No one had any idea of what just happened. We were in awe.
When I woke up I didn’t want to talk about it. I was in a physical shock. What the fuck happened? I was in a strong afterglow from the shrooms, and I knew I had to scribble everything down. Carsina and I wrote down a chronology of what happened, I went home, and 6 hours later I finished this, and I still don’t know if I have explained this night. I don’t know if this night can be explained.
I’m just going to be.
1. I like writing
2. This account is also for my personal records, It is supposed to evoke every detail of the night
Please, I would love comments on any of the ideas that I present here.
This is written about two hours after I woke up from the trip:
Woah. I am struggling so hard to comprehend what happened last night, and put it into words.
But that’s why I love trip reports; the good ones are written by the brave and articulate who at least attempt to put into words what they felt. It is a very challenging thing to do.
Where the fuck do I begin…
We ate the shrooms. Four of us, embarking on this eagerly awaited psychedelic journey. Our doses varied from 2 - 2.8 of remarkably potent cubenesis dust. I decided to try something new: to combat the absolutely terrifying come-ups I have, I split my doses. I ate 1.2 then ~45mins later I took a small handle full of shrooms and at some point took another small handful, since I am a lazy fuck and did not want to weigh them out. There were nine people in the garage. Four original trippers (Carsina, Ben, Brother Jason and I), two Dj’s (Dropz and High Wizard Sully), one friend who hardly been exposed to alcohol (T), and two of them who were merely destined to embark on the journey with us (Ryan and Squiliam).
Three of the explorers, including me, had to watch the presidential debate and chat about it in a chat room to get extra credit in our social studies class. So we did that, after (of course) a couple hits from the bong. After a lot of failed planning and confusion we figured out our plan for the debate. The owner of the house, Carsina, went into the office. He needed the extra credit the most, so he needed to focus before we journeyed into our minds. Ben and I went upstairs with his sister’s laptop and tried to say productive smart things in the chat while watching it on his TV. We sounded like fucking retards (or at least I did). We kept switching back and fourth between identities, our teacher called us out, I was like fuck this shit I have a good grade in this class, and went down to rescue the lone tripper from the crowd of alcoholics.
(Come-up)
The moment I walked into the garage, I immediately felt surrounded by the DJ’s loud techno music, accompanied by the drunken screams of my friends. This was the first of many bad vibes to come from them. I had already gotten my first alerts and I was about to be drowned in this weird psychedelic uncomfortableness that I usually go through. Perhaps its hard for me because I become something different on shrooms, and while my sober body is screaming bloody murder my rational mind is hushing it, whispering “I’m freer this way, so shut the fuck up”. So I sat up there with my friends, starting to feel uncomfortable, observing the social atmosphere in the garage. I then started to experience a weird phenomenon on psychedelics: the intensified emotions that get transmitted through out the group. Eventually the two trippers receded from the chat room and came to the upstairs garage to experience this with me. Dropz had bought Ultra tickets. While he was buying tickets he was angry, with what I have no idea. He was getting worked up and it was clearly visible in the room. Seeing angry people on shrooms makes me feel uncomfortable since anger seems so stupid to my new brain. Why the fuck do people get angry? I feel like only certain types of people get angry and even though it is natural, we live in a society. It’s no longer survival of the fittest; control your anger since it is fucking pointless. This anger was clearly transmitted through the group and all of us on psychedelics interpreted this transmission the same way: uncomfortableness, “bad vibes”. Then he got his tickets and started screaming, jumping up and down, but everyone else was just blankly staring at him – It was weird – I actually yelled. I yelled “WOOOH!” as loud as I could. I was the only one who yelled with him. It’s what my intoxicated mind convinced me was socially acceptable to comfort the awkwardness. Shut up intoxicated mind, that was a dumb ass idea.
When I get bad feelings my number one solution is to change setting. So that is what I did. I led a small group downstairs, and of course the small group sparked the “wait, where are they going” and the whole group quickly followed along. I wanted to smoke on the trampoline. We could have smoked in his garage but my shroom mind has a love affair with nature. It is calming; it’s freer. I can look wherever I want, without the walls telling me what I can and cannot see. Stupid walls.
We smoked on the trampoline. I could not wrap my head around the fact that the other 5 were not tripping. One of the 5, Ryan had taken some and was not feeling it yet and a drunken Squilliam was debating whether he wanted to take them or not but nonetheless, everyone in the group seemed like they were tripping. It was probably just my shrooms mind yearning for group unity. Oh well.
After 30 minutes or so, his neighbors pulled up 30 feet away from the trampoline; with their headlights piercing and blinding us, they took away the cloak of darkness that we used to hide our illicit activities. Blacks and bubblers galore, we did not give a shit. We just wanted to be. This became our mantra for the night. We were just “being”.
Eventually we all dispersed. Most went back into the garage, but eventually the trippers split up into two and threes. Squilliam finally convinced himself it was his time to dive into the wonderful world of psychedelics; he took a gram or so and I was proud, to say the least.
I think it is a very mature and hard to grasp concept of doing shrooms not to get “fucked up” but for something more glorious.
I split off with my psychedelic Brother Jason. Every trip Brother Jason has been on a trip, I have been by his side. Jason and I’s original intention was to find somewhere in nature for him to pee and for me to puke. I usually like to puke on shrooms. I don’t like dealing with the discomfort in your stomach and I don’t want to embarrass myself by getting to a point where I “have” to puke. I like to be pro-active. So we start to slowly wonder into his back yard. Step by step, we carefully walk. I can barely see in front of me because of the abundance of darkness, and of course the hallucinations were not too helpful. I could faintly see that there were branches in the way. I trusted that there was something more behind them, so we pushed through them. We burst into the area, the branches snapped back into place, and we were in a completely different world: Narnia, as we called it.
(Peak)
It was a bonfire area. It had four long wooden benches in the shape of a square and these tall, majestic trees were huddled around it. We were enclosed from the rest of the group, sheltered from the moonlight. Not being able to see well was actually a cool thing. The darkness provided a canvass for my hallucinations to paint on. This dark, enclosed area would become our forum for the first of many mind-bending topics of discussion. But before I start to elaborate on our discussions, I want to go into who we are as people, so you have an idea of why these discussions – literally – changed all of us.
We all go to an all boys, catholic Highschool. We are not outcasts. We are not hippies, and beside from me, everyone who tripped is practically brand new to the deep world of psychedelics. We are normal teenage hormonal boys. We like to get drunk and fuck girls and make bad decisions. We are just now discovering the different ways to think about things. This was the first time that as men, we could talk about our views of religion. Our school shoves it down religion throat so it is not the most peaceful environment to field your opinions about religion.
This night we opened up together, and this is not the easiest thing for six boys to do. It takes maturity, which our new minds had bestowed upon us.
I puked, or at least I think I did, and Jason peed and while that was happening we sparked a conversation. We ended up sitting down and Brother Jason and I started to ramble. The biggest subject that we kept visiting is that no one, even the respected and looked-up to adults, knew what the fuck the universe is about. Priests, physicists, politicians, they all just take a stab at answering the question, but in reality they have no idea what is going on. They all rely on faith. Politicians do not know whether or not their bills will help the good of society, neither does a physicist know the big bang happened. We talked about how we also didn’t know what the fuck the universe is about or how it worked. We talked about our indecisiveness towards religion, our confusion to the meaning of life; in the end nobody really has any clue: we know nothing. We just need to be. We went on tangents about life, girlfriends, growing old and the sorts. We had this unique energy that kept our brains churning and spitting out new ideas and thoughts. I thought I had talked for hours.
Eventually our epic conversation cooled down – it might have been 20 minutes – god, don’t you love time dilation. I commented on how I saw gates all around me, the hallucinations were beautiful. We convinced ourselves to get up and go get bug spray. We went on a manhunt to find it, including being sucked in by Dropz and High Wizard Sully’s crazy electronic music. They just wanted me to listen to one more song. I succumbed, danced for a little, but realized that I can only handle a certain amount of loud music. I left, focused on finding bug spray.
We found it in his house after a while of searching. Brother Jason and I’s hallucinations were so blinding that it literally was in a box we looked in multiple times. We could not read the “OFF” bug spray label until we got the bottle close to our faces. We went onto the trampoline to hit the bubbler and smoke more blacks, and once again the whole group of nine was on the trampoline.
It was weird… very weird. For starters, 9 extroverts, sitting in a circle, all intoxicated, is not the best way to have a fun conversation. Also, we weren’t all tripping. High Wizard Sully, Dropz, and T were all drunk. Sully and Dropz seemed very loud. They played Jimmy Buffet on shitty iPhone speakers and it created these weird vibes. When I tried to go off on my tangents about how we are on a giant floating rock that is suspended in nothingness, they just shut me up. I felt constricted; smaller groups are always better. Ryan was coming-up and wanted to go to Narnia. So I followed along with Ben to show them the magic of Narnia, the forsaken trip sanctuary.
They were both tripping balls, and we were a little confused about what to do. I wanted to say lets sit down and talk about life, but my sober mind screamed at me “No, that’s gay”. So I sat down and eventually they followed. We didn’t get as crazy, balls-deep into life as I wanted, but I enjoyed the conversation. Then Ryan hit his peak and it hit fucking hard. Ryan stood up, unannounced, and started walking deeper into the forest. When Ben and I came to follow him, he turned us away. He wanted to be alone. I was so happy that he was doing that; Ryan fucking needed to find himself. Ben and I went on to the trampoline and told every one about Ryan’s meditation. Carsina was a little scared for him, but I told him to let him be.
He needed to just be.
Eventually the rest of trippers ended up in Narnia; there were six of us. The drunk people and the vibes their drug of choice was spreading had retired for the night. We were crazily energetic. My body felt like it had a subtle, slightly heated liquid coursing through my veins. I felt amazing and I had the confidence to say every thought on my constantly churning mind. Of course, we struggled through our words, but for the most part, after a couple stutters and a quick pause, we were able to gather ourselves and speak on behalf of this new, confident mind. We eventually got on to the topic of “The Egg”, a sort of philosophical infused story that had blown my mind away when I was sober. I got someone’s phone, stumbled through the Internet, found it and told every one to sit on the bench. All five of them sat on the bench, excited and anxious. I sat on the dirt facing them. I was about to get us thinking about things normal teenage boys minds would not dare to think about.
I slowly read it. I made every dramatic pause enticing and whispered the profound; I really tried hard to make this story animated. I found a new natural talent of mine, and I fucking loved it. Through out this whole time, the chosen 5 closed their eyes and let me paint the crazy idea this story conveyed in their mind. It was almost like meditation through literature. It was truly magical; the story seized us all.
When I finished “The Egg”, our trip took on this personal openness. This is what would put us in awe hours after our peaks.
Through simple, yet deep conversation, we literally developed new concepts of life. We were standing on the benches, bursting with energy and joy. At one point we talked in broken down wooden boat on the side of the Narnia. We were talking about religion and what we actually think about it, we were talking about growing up, being old, having kids. We opened up. We talked without limitation, and that’s why I fucking love mushrooms. When I am peaking I can say things without my social conscience screaming at me, telling me what to do.
All of us were slowly making a profound realization; everyone new something profound was happening, but nobody new what the fuck it was. It was unbelievable… all we were doing was talking.
I got up and explored a couple times by myself. His property is lined with barbwire, which fueled my hatred for limits. It felt so constricting; I can’t stand limits. So I convinced Ryan, one of my better friends, to let me lead him on an adventure. He trusted me to stretch the barbwire open for him, and I did the same for him. We were off into the wilderness; I had the flashlight and we were going to explore the beauty of the world.
I just wanted to be. We walked as I illuminated different plants and objects, making comments on them. We stumbled upon one of the weirdest terrains I had ever been on. This area was a sandy lake-swamp-forest hybrid. We walked around, but Ryan was full on peaking (he had took them later than me) and he was second-guessing this adventure. I asked him to just trust me, and for the most part he did pretty good. We walked around on a sandy trail commenting on the beauty of the world. We came upon a tree that reminded Ryan of the gigantic oak tree he had imagined when reading the parable of the mustard tree. It was awesome; it stood towering over us, but yet it felt friendly. We eventually got to a muddy part that I could not persuade Ryan to follow me through, so we decided to go back and share our secret with the rest of our friends.
They fucking loved it. We only had four of the six, but I took them around this huge marshy lake and simply did what I did with Ryan. Walked. I was confident that nothing was going to happen to us and they trusted me (for the most part). We walked and walked. I had no idea where I was going but I didn’t tell them that. We were just being. They followed me around the lake and through the mud that I couldn’t convince Ryan to go through. Eventually Carsina and Brother Jason waved their flashlight and in one single burst of group euphoria, we sprinted towards the light. Through tall grass, mud, and water we enthusiastically sprinted across the lake; it was like it was a recreation activity. Carsina told us we could have been shot. That’s fucking stupid, who the hell would be crazy enough to shoot me?
I was just being.
(Come-Down)
We all went back to Carsina’s trampoline and had our second group discussion. We sprawled out on the trampoline, and looked into the heavens. We started to talk about how some people are very superficial. When trying to talk to them, you seem to hit a wall where their thoughts go no deeper. We have a couple of friends like this. It interests us because there seems to be a separation between people who can do psychedelics and people who would loose there minds to the beast within them: the deep thinkers vs. the superficial. This connection was something I had always pondered. Are they not genetically capable of deep thought? Is it an absence of intelligence? Or is everyone deep thinkers and it’s just that someone has not evoked this side of them? I developed this weird separation from these people: they are primitive; they let their emotions control them.
As I lay on the trampoline, lulled by the subtle ambiance of the night, my physical tiredness started to wash over me. We finally came to a decision to move our conversation inside. Our conversation inside was a little different in character, but we basically repeated what we had concluded in the previous discussions. Everyone was a lot more lucid now so we were able to articulate our thoughts better. New points were brought up and we engaged in fun, engaging, but intellectual conversation. The same boys who love to get drunk and party and fit in were sitting around a Ping-Pong table, sincerely and seriously talking about life.
We had matured. I believe that every trip teaches you something new about yourself and that every trip has the potential to be learned from. This trip actually matured me, and I still can’t wrap my damn head around it.
We eventually got into bed, but still enchanted by the magic of conversation we continued talking about what just happened. No one had any idea of what just happened. We were in awe.
When I woke up I didn’t want to talk about it. I was in a physical shock. What the fuck happened? I was in a strong afterglow from the shrooms, and I knew I had to scribble everything down. Carsina and I wrote down a chronology of what happened, I went home, and 6 hours later I finished this, and I still don’t know if I have explained this night. I don’t know if this night can be explained.
I’m just going to be.
, it means a lot.
