Twenty grams wet yielded what I would call a threshold experience. This put
me right up to the door looking into the beyond. But at this level there
was never any promise/threat of venturing through the door.
This dosage was similar to, but "thicker" than, the 2 g. of dry substance
I tried before. I believe the freshness gave it a more palpable effect. Fresh
also tastes MUCH better ... just like (you guessed it!) mushrooms.
I don't know how such mild and tasty tidbits can turn into such a gagging
substance when dried.
Instead of the closed-eyes neon green-red-blue two dimensional geometrics
I'd experienced before, the visuals were earth-toned: deep, dark browns,
greens, reds. Instead of the cute, bright zig-zags there were earthenware
tablets inscribed with hieroglyphics which looked like a combination of Egyptian
scribbling and Mayan glyphs. I also got the pixel-like (red, blue, green)
fragmentation of everything I looked at (open-eyed) which I'd seen on the
4 g. dry encounter. But the dosage was too low to yield any morphing of real
objects.
The "scibblings" on the mud-brick tablets became utter incomprehensible.
It was as if those glypic tablets were trying to to show me something brand
new. The dosage was too low to overcome intellect; when the "writing" morphed
to the point of incomprehension my mind would simply say, "Oh, wow, it's
going beyond what I can describe/interpret." The morphing tablets were like
sirens singing to me, tempting me toward another dimension.
The induced images are unlike those of mescaline or lsd which are ephemeral
and soft-edged and "swishing". The mushroom visions are hard-edged, definite,
distinct, almost touchable. Their smallest details can be discerned and focused
upon.
The visuals pulse and change beyond description ... beyond being able to
put words on them. They "stretch understanding". They attempt to push me
past what it is we do with words to order our world. The visuals are a
significant part of the fungus experience. The other entheogens are more
"wordy". With lsd one must take truly heroic doses to "see the pictures".
Behind closed eyes I examine these images and they evolve and change and
BECOME more than I can pour meaning over. They invite me, lure me
beyond preconception.
An hour after ingestion, lying quietly with eyes-closed I float through a
jungle of mostly indiscrete shapes. The place definitely has the flavor of
a jungle and my imagination conjures a general backdrop of soaring tree trunks,
a thick light-blocking canopy overhead, bits and pieces of plants and animals
(?) peeking out here and there. I focus attention on a particular object/shape
and it immediately morphs into a stylized, mechanical mantis staring down
at me, mandibles gently pulsing. It seems that any object I look directly
at transforms into a mantis. I don't know if this is particular to this entheogen
or if my extensive reading on the subject contributes to this effect. These
stylized insects (they look like they've been air-brushed) aren't threatening;
they just seem mildly curious. Not really "friendly", but somewhat welcoming
just the same. Linguistically analyzing this phenomenon my thoughts and words
change into mantes! During the intensity of the experiment I could, at any
time, relax then see these familiar creatures develop quickly from either
the images my mind had conjured or the words I was thinking.
My dictionary reports:
mantis [Gr. *mantis*, prophet, seer, kind of insect; i.e. *men-*, to think;
see MAN]
Hmmmmmmmmm.
Pondering the devouring nature of the insect I found I could journey into
less pleasant vistas. Darker. Snakes which weren't nice. An evil black boil
in my mind. Slithy, slithering. But (at least at this dosage) I found I was
"in charge" ... that I could guide my exploration easily between the darker
and lighter realms.
With this realization I got up and wandered back and forth between my two
rooms. The bedroom was as dark as I could make it. The sitting room sported
candles. As I passed through the door into the candlelight my mood and the
internal dialogue lightened; as I passed back into the darkened room my mood
and self-dialogue darkened. I was reminded of an intense hallucination I
had many years ago in which I was being pulled violently by angels, on one
side, and devils on the other; when I emerged from that vision I found I
actually had been "being thrown" from one side of the room to the other.
I reclined and closed my eyes again, inviting the darker realm. It certainly
*could* be scary, but I lucidly understood that all these visions and thoughts
were entirely of my own mind. There was nothing I was seeing/thinking which
wasn't intimately me. I'm sure it didn't hurt that I'd discovered I was able
to control the flow. Anyway, I believe there is something very important
here to know. It seems sorta obvious just to talk about it, but to *be it*
brings it home: no matter how goody-goody we think we are or we aspire to
be, we are still integrated throughout the continuum of that which is "light"
and that which is "dark". I suspect that herein lies a major clue to successfully
navigating these realms.
While I did want to get some of the ideas down on paper, I realized this
activity interfered with the entheogen. So I returned to couch. Immediately
I reentered the visual flow/thought. But this time I was not in the jungle.
I was inside my head. I was in a dome made of layered brown leaf-like shapes,
interlaced. I wonder if this is the "dome place" which TM and others talk
about. It was slowly spinning. Pondering this dome and equating it to the
inside of my head I was plunged into a grisly, wet, throbbing, grey mass
of matter coursing here and there with rivulets of blood ... obviously my
brain.
This wasn't scary in any sense, but I found it unpleasant. Wandering around
in my physical guts didn't appeal. I got up, deciding I needed a breath of
fresh air. It was too chilly to wander out by this time. So I stood on my
landing communing with the hackberry tree. It expressed itself as nobility
and seemed to ask me why I harbored some disdain for it as it is "only" a
hackberry. It wasn't "mad" at me, but wanted to express its love for me,
its unflinching service to me in terms of shade and oxygen and green and
simple, pure beauty ... it's craftiness as a resting place for the birds
I so love. I wondered at and thanked the tree, took my fresh breath, and
went back inside.
Standing in the door between rooms I again sensed the threshold nature of
the dose ... the fact that this dosage was what it was ... that the possibility
of penetration into deeper hyperspace would have to wait. I closed my eyes
and could again draw the visions, but they were beginning to be less intense,
less accessible, replays offering nothing new. I looked at the clock (which
earlier had indeed moved very, very slowly if at all) and realized I was
past plateau. Thus began the long, slow glide.
The proponents of this substance try to tell us the mushrooms offer a universal
vision unlike the personal, psychoanalytical flux of lsd. My experience so
far is that they aren't entirely correct. The rush side is universal - and
the stronger the rush side the shorter the downslide. The downslide from
peak is very similar to the stronger entheogen. And, in a way, this is the
downside of low-dosage experiences for it goes on for a while. After all,
how many times do you need to be confronted with your shortcomings? Answer:
until you fix them.
The welcome thing about the mushrooms is that they are gentle (whereas lsd
is stark and confronting and demanding). The self-analytical stuff is given
kindly. Here's a compendium of thoughts I scribbled so as to remember:
It doesn't matter who I *think* I am; all that matters is what I'm supposed
to be. Be being (with overtones of "be a man"). Be a source of healing. Be
a source of power.
Clean up your act in every wee way. (Given in some detail encompassing tobacco,
alcohol, physical conditioning, diet, thoughts chosen to process, cleanliness
of environment ... all very focused on what I *can* control.) I asked "How
do I accomplish this?" The answer:
Start With The Obvious.
Direct your energy
so you're not just bouncing off walls.
Think about time
and attention.
It's all very
"reality-basing".
The clean-up-your-act stuff intimated that this is the key to accessing more
profound levels of understanding and accomplishment both in and out of the
entheogenic experience. Yes, I know ... so obvious, perhaps. But so intimate
and real and immutable in this state of mind. So piercingly correct. Yet
gently piercing under the influence of the fungus. Not condemning. Helpful.
Hopeful. Encouraging. Fatherly in the very best sense of the word.
The experience says, "Grasp ahead to that golden ring you see dangling. Grab
hold. Reach backward to the next person in line." The experience spoke of
the importance of all of us, of the vital importance of bootstrapping one
another into higher/better levels of awareness/ability.
I would like to say there is a Motherly presence there. But I'm not sure
there is. Perhaps the mushroom is an aspect of the masculine side of the
universe, penis-shaped as it is. It goes beyond logic, but works within and
without that frameset. Prior experience with other substances tells me that
heavier doses may be much less understanding, forgiving and patient, but
maybe not. So far (with one four gram exposure) I sense the fungus *can*
indeed be extremely challenging, but it may continue to be kindly and
compassionate. This is unlike any medicine I've tried before. I sense there
is much healing here if one can/will take the bull by the horns and act.
It is not a cure, but it surely paves a way.
It keeps saying, "Heal".
Other thoughts the experience engendered:
Without doubt the mushroom speaks of the will to live/survive ... the
preciousness of life ... the importance of sticking around as long as possible
... the value of becoming valuable.
It definitely speaks of the preciousness of life.
The amazing thing is this all comes from the ordinariness of plucking little
homegrown buttons from the rice cake and popping them into one's mouth. And
while they were delightfully mild tasting, I can stop, just now, and taste
in my mouth their delicate flavor 24 hours later.
I hit baseline at about four hours after ingestion. Yet I was totally too
wound up at midnight-thirty to even contemplate sleep. I grimaced and tried
the stereo. The modern celtics in the CD tray were too sad. I grimaced and
flicked on the tube. Surprise! Scientific American Explorer was exploring
Panama. Now I know why the Yucatan attracts me so; it's within walking distance
of Panama! Did you know leaf-cutter ants in the rain forest cut leaves 100
feet up in the canopy then haul them miles back to the nest to grow fungus?
Fungiculture! What a strange coincidence for a first-time test of homegrown
fungus :~)
I settled back into the "normal" nest at six hours and read of Ender's adventures
until sleep became me. Slept seven hours without a thought. Awoke to dogs
barking, alas, but also to an unidentified bird chirping delightfully in
the hackberry.
Can't say I've quit smoking, drinking, or scrubbed my apartment. Yet I've
a clear head and an outlook on life more positive than I had yesterday.
This stuff doesn't invite abuse. In the "coasting down" time last night I
felt I would be most able to wait for another taste. It's enough to know
that given the possibility of obtaining spores this avenue is available.
Yet, yet, yet ...
I'm ready to go back. In my youth I risked all to Attain the Answer via the
synthetics and either failed or I didn't remember or I wasn't ready or the
synthetics don't cut it. I feel ready! I want some more of this. Mushrooms
rule, shall we say? It is daunting. It's not recreational at all. Well, maybe
I'm lying. It is intriguing. Perhaps it is empty. I want to eliminate that
possibility or confirm it. Patience, they say ... one of the virtues, they
say.
After writing the account above, I remembered a very important segment. It's
so archetypal it's almost embarrassing to mention. But it happened to me
right here in the aerie last night. I've been there before and many people
speak of it. It's easy to comprehend intellectually. Yet the FEELING
of it, the ACTUALITY of it is so reassuring in some way:
My mind arises out of Mind.
I am the fig on the branch. I am the fruit on the tree. I don't know what
Mind is, ultimately. I don't know if it preceeds me or if I manufacture it.
But I do know it's bigger than me-mind and it is somehow connected with the
source of what I am; that what I perceive myself to be arises out of it.
That it creates me. That everything blossoms from it.
In the supressed Gospel of St. Thomas Jesus says, "I cleave the log, and
I am there."
If Terence is right it blossoms backwards in the shadow of What Really Is.
If what I'm reading in quantum physics is right, Terence is right. Backwards
or forwards the tiny handful of mushrooms took me again to that understanding
... the immediate understanding that I am a flower of great beauty springing
from Beauty Untold, Beauty Unlimited. Deep, deep roots.
I want to plunge and plumb those depths. I want to know. I want to find the
way to a place in which this fragile mind/body sucks in and contains that
which is. Or vice versa. I want to do this in the living flesh and translate
it into living, three dimensional love.
I suppose I should admit I want to bath in that beauty again.
I want to do this without assuming the christ nature and result, ha ha. I
want this to be normal and everyday. For everyone. It's there! Why can't
we access it? Well, we can access it. Why can't we translate it and activate
it in the minds of those around us? What stops us from maintaining it as
a way of life? What is it we are trapped in? Serotonin hallucinations, I
suppose. A bum tryptamine trip.
I'm very curious about the morphing hieroglyphic tablets and am looking for
any feedback I can get from others who've had the same experience. If you can comment on this, please post to
The Shroomery's Message Board or to alt.nature.mushrooms.
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