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Offlinebtb103
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Registered: 02/17/07
Posts: 229
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Long trip report (intermingled with ontological/political/social ramblings)
    #7738937 - 12/10/07 12:48 AM (16 years, 3 months ago)

This is a long trip report documenting my experience just a few days ago with the psilocybe mushroom. I consider myself still at the beginning of a long (life-long) journey to explore consciousness and the nature of our universe. As such, the opinions and "realizations" contained within the following report are to be considered preliminary and the ontological suppositions not fully researched or understood.

It is rather long and if you don't want to read it all I can sum it up thusly: a few days ago a good friend of mine and I tripped (with some peripheral participants) and had a moving experience with the mushroom. A long walk through a winter wonderland spawned many interesting theories and insights into the world and the Self. A turn for the worse occurred when we re-entered the apartment where we began the trip. I frantically struggled to rebuild my ego and affirm my realness. All in all, thought, it was a good experience with much to reflect upon and consider for the future.

Here's the full version:
Time: Thursday evening, Winter, drugs consumed at 7:05PM – well after dark
Substances: 1.8 grams P. Cubensis (from my own grow) and 300mg DXM in gelcap form
Weather conditions: Bearably cold, snowy (3-5 inches accumulation from earlier in day)

What would unfold over the next five hours can only be called the most significant psychedelic experience of my life. Furthermore, it marked the next step into what I see now as the long process of rebuilding my ego into one that acknowledges the True Inner Light that exists at the center of the collective unconscious within which all human beings reside. It is not an easy process, as I found last night, to lose the ego and attempt to rebuild it again. I found myself scrambling and placing things as they were before, where they did not belong.

The 300mg DXM has become a staple of my most serious mushroom trips. I battle with anxiety on a day to day basis and have found that many psychedelics greatly increase the impact of this problem on my mind. As such, I have found the DXM to be particularly beneficial in allowing me to exit my normal modes of perception and consciousness and let the teaching, guiding spirit of the psiloscybe mushroom to take over. This was my highest dosage combination to date. I have only had two similar dosages previously to which I can compare last night's experience: 1.5 grams P. cubensis alone and 1.0 grams P. cubensis with 300mg DXM.

My last DXM involved trip took place in the same setting with my friend George – a fellow psychonaut with whom I have found a deep connection in the farthest reaches of mushroom trance. I see him as a fellow journeyer on the path to understanding consciousness and the nature of our universe and whatever realities or dimensions exist within it.

It is important to note here that my life is currently connected to two primary locations, separated by a great geographic distance: my university "home" – Chicago and the place of my birth and where I attended high school - Omaha. I once thought that my consciousness, personality, and being were inherently different from one location to the other – that there was a duality and separateness between these two realms. As I will explain later, this conception, which has much to do with the meaning of "home", is beginning to shift as my understanding of true being comes to light.

The trip began normally enough. There were to be four of us eating the mushrooms, of the PF Albino strain grown in bulk on cow dung. Due to the heavy blue-ing of the specimens as well as the nutrient rich substrate in which they were grown, I believed this strain to be of greater potency than my previous brown rice flour grows with more common strains.

Besides George and I, the other two trippers were George’s roommate Fred and a communal friend, Alan. This was the same group that gathered a few months earlier to partake in the mushroom trance. A fifth bystander was present, a friend named Henry, whom we all expected (and encouraged) to leave as soon as the tripping began. Unfortunately, he never did. Also unfortunately, Alan has a very immature and erroneous conception of what tripping is and what it can offer, and as such is a rather poor person with whom to trip. He and Henry both brought negative vibrations for all of us (perhaps, in particular, me). I am on the fence about Fred, who has the right attitude about tripping (let the mushroom take control) but doesn’t really see its deeper purpose. The last time we all tripped together, George and I broke away on a walk while Alan and Adam remained together for their walk. The same configuration and turn of events happened on this trip.

At one point in our walk, George and I began speculating and developing a theory about the dualistic nature of our society and the influence of media upon it. We came first to see the importance of Google, Gmail, and the Blogosphere as revolutionary cultural movements that are standing up to the non-individualistic, conservative, state-controlled information sources (and all they represent) – which we associated with the world's largest owner of Big Media: Rupert Murdoch. "Why should we listen to the information spouted by these institutions?" George pondered, "We're the ones who should be making news. We should be reporting our daily experience - the experience of the moment, the presence that unfolds with great significance on the ground level" (quotes colored by my own linguistic style here). It was a liberating and hopeful moment for both of us.

You might say the great challenge of our walk was remaining focused on any one aspect of what was going on, remaining to any one train of thought or enjoying one particular painted scene that inculcated us from every possible angle. There was a constant shifting between talking about things in a meta-physical sense and talking about them in a "nuts-and-bolts" sense – sometimes the confusion happened within our own mind and sometimes it happened as we tried to vocalize what it was we were thinking or experiencing.

We stopped numerous times throughout the walk to catch our breaths (mentally and physically), to take in a particularly awe-inspiring scene, or to share some realization or vision we just had. Since it was the holidays, lights and decorations abounded. Sometimes they were tacky in a flashy, ostentatious Las Vegas kind of way. Other times they were simple and beautiful. Every scene had a very painterly quality to it, as if our perception of space was somehow wildly distorted – as if we could reach out and touch these things. Indeed, it was often a struggle to hold myself back from running forth to examine certain features more closely. Fortunately, we still had some measure of wits about us and abstained from doing such things.
We lamented the fact, however, that things had to be this way. One thread or common theme of our conversation throughout the walk was frustration and anger with the possessive, material-oriented nature of our society. Here are all these beautiful things –beautiful homes, beautiful lawns– and because Americans (members of Western society) have such outrageous notions about the right to own property, we cannot collectively share in those things, the beauty that exists just over our neighbor's fence. Walter Benjamin talks about a very relevant duality in Western society: on the one hand you have the ecstatic trance, the intoxication with the natural world as caused by hallucinogenic substances; on the other hand you have the material trance, in which most Americans are consumed (indeed, the preferred and deeply institutionalized societal response). It was this duality we confronted most poignantly in our experience that night.

Following the co-development of this Google-Murdoch duality, I began to see it as a metaphor or analogy for numerous other dualities that occurred to me in my bemushroomed state. "Google-Murdoch! Google-Murdoch" I chanted over and over, stamping my feet in rhythm like a Neolithic shaman making his first realization of the world. Indeed, such was (and is) my excitement of actually being taught something by this strange and new fungal friend of mine. Whether the realization we made has any novelty/originality, accuracy, or meaningfulness is not significant. What is significant is the beginning of my coming to understand the power of the mushroom in shedding light upon the dualities of our world and the way true consciousness (in the mushroom trance) eschews of these notions with awesome totality. The way the mushroom state casts us into the sea of the Other, or Overself (as McKenna describes it) and forces us to reconsider the current socio-scientific perception of reality.

The first “destination” we headed towards was an overlook that George claimed offered an expansive view of the city, with the many lights, sounds, and sensations that this semi-urban landscape had to offer. We found ourselves overwhelmed and out of place. I don’t know what we expected to feel upon arriving there but it didn’t take long for us to realize that we would more readily find beauty in the quieter, more secluded parts of the neighborhood.

Continuing on we made our way to a low, valley-like point between the residential neighborhood and the edge of a large construction site at the outskirts of the large state university that existed there. The construction site seemed alien, even archaic to us. George declared it to be a Lost Civilization, this monstrous skeleton of concrete and steel. I was drawn in and found myself able to easily transform what would be a mundane, ordinary site in my day-to-day state of consciousness into a wondrous, mysterious relic of the past. Opposed to the construction site, as I mentioned, was the edge of the residential zone from which we had traveled out of. It was serene; with what was likely a dry creek-bed running through a large forested area. A small house was nestled on the left side of the forest. Turning ninety degrees and upon a hill sat one of the most beautiful scenes we experienced that night: a large white house with many windows, each lit with one small candle (perhaps electric). Surrounded by all these magnificent structures, natural and man-made, we paused here for many minutes, discussing our theories of the world and enjoying the beauty in which we were happy visitors.

Eventually we became overtaken by our need to return for water. “Blast these shells of existence, so puny and weak in comparison to the stuff of our minds and souls” seemed to be the shared sentiment of my companion and I. As we traipsed back to George’s home (still stopping, getting distracted often) I started a dialogue about the meaning of home, a notion that is particularly significant in my life right now, being a transient resident between my college “home” and my family “home”. I came to see the senselessness of such a notion at all, that the idea of a home is just another one of those things we humans create to try and ground our existence to some physical (but meaningless) form – in this case a geographic location.

Upon re-entering the interior space where we began the trip, I found its appearance and “vibrations” to have taken a turn for the worse. No doubt this transformation has everything to do with a negative turn in my trip, a descending of consciousness to some meaner level: a grotesque and deeply introspective world. The people we had left on our walk had mostly turned into multi-headed, reptile like creatures, like a scene out of a horrific carnival (think Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas). It was a dark and shadowy world, both mentally and physically – the lights were all off. I needed water but I kept getting sidetracked and found myself scrambling, in a wild and frenzied state, to piece back together my reality, my Self; both of which had completely disintegrated. I was worried about the time, worried that I wouldn’t make it home by the time my mom expected me. I was worried about my THINGS, my POSSESSIONS, these notions I had dismissed of earlier in my much wiser and calmer state. Unable to think straight I scurried around the apartment looking for my things, looking for my mind, looking for water – anything to quench the fire that burned within. I would find these material things eventually but my ego, my Self, was much harder to put back together. Eventually I entered George’s room, where the warm glowing light of the lava lamps beckoned me as if to say “here you will find peace, here you will find what you are looking for.” I was overjoyed and rushed back out to the living room to briefly share my discovery. I then returned to his room and sat at the computer. Some good electronic music was playing but I didn’t know what it was. I looked at the screen and the Winamp display read “UNKNOWN – MINISTRY”. I was confounded by this. Surely, I thought, this could not be the name and artist of the track playing right now. I convinced myself that this was some cruel trick played on me by some mysterious force bent on ensuring I never escaped the shadow world in which I was currently trapped. Fortunately, I was able to shed this notion and seek out the music I had brought on a USB drive and pre-loaded into my own music player software before the trip began. It was a difficult task, as my vision was hindered by powerful visual distortions and my mind was clouded with negativity. I wanted a seamless shift from the UNKNOWN – MINISTRY track to the Hallucinogen track I longed to hear. The plan worked but I became entirely lost in the process and was soon unable to distinguish between the two tracks. Luckily, George entered the scene a few moments later and rectified the situation for me.

The following 20-30 minutes were just as frantic as the previous frenzy throughout the apartment but were markedly more introspective, bearing on the edge of paranoid schizophrenic psychosis. I found myself completely terrified that my mind would never return to its normal state of consciousness, that I had left reality and would never return to it. I know of course (and knew going in) that this was not and could never be true. In fact, I had concretized my realization earlier in the trip that the world experienced in the mushroom trance is just as real as the world of normal consciousness. Alas, these understandings were useless to me in that crazed state. I decided it was imperative that to make myself real again I had to WRITE – that writing was the only means by which I could truly confirm my realness. I exclaimed to George that we needed paper and writing utensils. He was in agreement and we searched out his room for the necessary materials. I was dissatisfied, at first, with the graph paper he presented me – I longed for the imperfect and organic texture of drawing paper. Alas, I came to accept his offering and sat back down at the computer. I scribbled madly (George later described me as looking like a “mad scientist”) – writing down phrases from the music I was listening to, phrases that (again) seemed to be pre-determined and directed at me and my current condition. It seemed now that this force was benevolent, or at least disinterested (as it had proved earlier when I turned on my MP3 player to see a song titled “Piecing it Together” on the playback screen). Anyhow, I switched between scribbling on the paper he provided and typing out phrases in MS Paint. It was truly a futile and pathetic exercise but was the only thing I felt could calm me at the time. In fact it didn’t ever really calm me, it just kept me occupied until I was able to thoroughly stamp out the mushroom consciousness and become “normal” again.

Once I was “down” I didn’t feel at peace like at the end of my last trip. I felt I had failed in some way, that I had been shown the door to perception, even stood at its brink, but mistakenly slammed it shut in my face at the most critical moment. My body was wearied, not energized, my chest was taut and my heart rate irregular. It was a frustrating end to what otherwise was a magnificent experience.

After going through my inner trial, I realized that I had to capitalize upon the information I had learned in the more fruitful part of my trip. I turned to George behind me and told him how I felt about our experience earlier. I explained that I felt there had been a real telepathic connection between us, the kind I’ve read about following the trip that happens in shamanic ayahuasca cultures when groups of people trip together. Although I felt George and I had an unusual connection on our first trip together, I thought we had come even closer this time to occupying the same mind and existing as part of the same sea of consciousness – that it was a real experience, not just something fabricated by my mind or his mind, but something as tangible as the connection between a CPU and RAM. He agreed and we both shared the awe and excitement that this fact presents.

On my drive home I reflected on what had just happened. I tried to apply the most important lesson I had learned in my experience: the real and incredible connection among all human beings. I decided that this kind of information must be actualized in my day to day life. I pondered the way my actions would have to change to reflect this kind of understanding. I realized the pointlessness of the anger I had been feeling lately toward my parents and, more largely, the privileged middle/upper-class of American society responsible for creating a culture that causes so much destruction. Ultimately, they’re still human, they are part of the same web of life and energy that I belong to. Anger is not the answer, instead, I realized that my approach had to take on a different attitude, one of understanding (like that transferred to me in the mushroom experience) and compassion to try and elevate all human society to a level of consciousness that cares for and considers the significance of each of its members and the natural world which is also deeply embedded in the fabric of our existence.

NOTE: Places described are real, names have been changed to protect the innocent


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In bewilderment, I realized I am the endless sea.

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