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The Third Eye of Mushrooms by "Jacob McPherson" - July 14, 2009 For: NeuroSoup.com
What started out as a curiosity, lead to something extremely different and unexpected. Like all twenty-something year olds, life itself becomes a journey of experimentation and obstacles. I, too, had shared many instances in my life that I both regret, and embrace. But nothing on Earth could prepare me for the day my third-eye was opened.
My friends, whom I have only known a short while, had graciously allowed me to spend a night enjoying some delicious barbecue. Between cheap beer and the smell of marijuana, we had started to talk about our past experiences with substances. This conversation itself, was fine and dandy; but I was looking for something a little more.
The idea of acid had really turned me off (as it as, still to this day), along with other hardcore drugs that I stay away from due to personal choice. Nine out of ten stories based on my friend's acid experiences seemed too intense, too unreal; like having a devil drag you down to hell. Since my friends were all Death Metal heads, I can see how the idea would become somewhat romantic in their eyes. But to me, this seemed like a never ending nightmare.
The next topic of choice peaked my interest: psycoblin mushrooms, or shrooms, as they're still called. Experiences were shared, trips were dissected; and in the end, I wanted to hear more. Stories ranged from a rainbow of colors seeping out of tree trucks, to an unseen underwater deity calling out your name.
This sounded more of my style, especially that of the spiritual spectrum.
I, myself, was never one for organized religion. Born into a world where both parents had their own separate religions. Now though, I believe this was the cause for myself never to go out and choose. Though I've attempted several times in my life to find my spiritual "calling", none was achieved. I urned for something more in life, something extraordinary, yet believable.
My brain indulged in all of this new information, while my stomach was urning to try something new. Just like with every other curiosity, it sometimes takes over your entire body. Gut instincts turn into obsession at times, but I would not let it become this.
Towards the end of the night, I spoke with Ethan about his experiences on a personal level. Ethan was the only person I've ever known to be so knowledgeable about everything, without the arrogance. His sheepish smile and low-voice allowed even the simplest stranger to be amazed by his intellect.
Ethan assured me that bad experiences happen, but can be overcome as long as you know you are in control. He also mentioned that he trips on shrooms every season; no more, no less. Ethan would always go to a naturalistic area, away from society, to enjoy his spiritual journey.
Though skeptical about the spirituality about the mushroom, I decided then and there that this is something I needed to invest in.
Preparation, February 2009
At the next barbecue get together, we all anticipated one individual. Enter Andrew, the best man I know to get any substance no matter what it is. Personally, he was more of an acquaintance in my book, due to the fact he always around just to peddle his wares and be on his way. I'd never partake in this, not because I was a goody-goody, but I choose not to.
I introduced myself to him and asked him if there was a way he could obtain these mushrooms. To my surprise, he actually had them on his person that night. A money exchange here, a product obtainment there; I had secured the substance. As excited as I was, Ethan advised me never to take the mushrooms by yourself; that there should always be someone there with you. That night we made a pack, set a date, and decided not to take them until the middle of March. Seeing as he had more experience than I did, I nodded and agreed. That night I put the cellophane bag into my boxer drawer, not before opening it up to examine them further.
Strange, small, dehydrated mushrooms. Almost like the dried mushrooms in the store, but the government rendered these mushrooms illegal for some reason. I examined the blue/black tips and smiles. Still somewhat skeptical, I put them back into the drawer. One more month.
My First Trip, March 2009
The ides of march, as William Shakespeare's play, Julius Caesar once called it, was a beautiful afternoon. Feeling strange, like a first date, I smiled all morning long while getting ready. The anxiety was almost over-bearing, but at least it was a happy feeling. I was never one known to smile a lot, or be as friendly. This was a weird instance for me to have, but shrugging it off, I went along with my day. I picked up snacks and orange juice for the preparation.
I met Ethan for coffee at one of those well-known corporate coffee establishments. Not a big coffee drinker myself. We talked about our childhood, funny stories and regular things. After a while, I had a list of questions in my head about what we were going to participate in that day.
One by one, the questions flowed out; each one being answered by Ethan and I appreciated it. It calmed me down. Some of the most important parts of what he mentioned were:a) Be in good spirits. Eating the mushrooms when your life is in turmoil will only produce just that. b) Good setting. We decided on staying in-doors since he lived in the middle of suburbia. This would be the best way to obtain peace and relaxation. c) Remember that you are in control. Easier said than done, but I said I'd try.
At Ethan's house finally. Ethan lived with all of my other friends. Only one of the others would be there, Paul. Apparently would not be shrooming with us. He mentioned that he always had bad trips and ended up with anxiety afterwards. I remembered that even with marijuana he became very paranoid, but I guess it varies from person to person.
Ethan explained that there are different methods for ingestion. He preferred cutting the mushrooms into tiny pieces, pouring a cup of orange juice and then sprinkling them on top. The reason for this, was because he didn't like the taste at all. Again, as he was the experienced one, I agreed.
The process, itself, took about 20 minutes. In between he kept talking and stopping. I nodded and urged him to go on politely. We both had cut up what is considered half-eighth each. The drinks were poured, downed and that was about it. The taste was non-existent in my mouth. Bits of mushroom were stuck to the bottom of the glass, so we needed to pour even more in.
Ethan and I talked for a good thirty minutes, about randomness; then I told him I had not felt or seen anything strange. He told me to be patient, because everyone digests differently as well. A feeling came over me, it was very warm and glowing. I told him about this and he laughed because he was feeling that for about ten minutes already.
Twenty more minutes pass and we talked some more. He told me about what he was feeling and seeing already. I, myself, did not experience anything at the time. But Ethan told me to hold on. I waited a few more minutes and he said, "Look down at the floor." I did.
It was lovely. The soil-stained dirty carpet had turned into a circus of designs. Three-dimensional. It seemed to grow as I came closer to it. The best way I could describe it was like having three layers of carpet on top of each other. The bottom being the opaque base, while the two on top had become swirl patterns. I loved this and looked around the room some more. Circles with color seemed to come from nowhere, but were not as intense as I thought they would be. It was like looking into the sun, then looking away to see the spots i front of your eyes. While this was still cool, I desired more.
Our friend Paul came into the room about an hour later with a jukebox. He asked us how we were doing and asked if he could play some music. Both Ethan and I looked at each other, knowing his type of music and declines. We got a bit worried due to the fact that Death Metal would not be good for me right now, seeing as that is not my genre. Paul reassured us, and said don't worry. He explained that someone introduced this to him on his first trip, too.
He pushed play. The song was very ambient, yet ghostly. A man talking backwards came into the picture. Again, we got worried. Mongolian throat-singing. All of a sudden the music became very tribal and spiritual. The room was silent now, as we were pulled into the music itself. Ethan, too, was enjoying this by now and he looked very relaxed and intent. I dared not blink, for fear I would miss something amazing.
By the time the song was over, it seemed like forever. It was a great piece though. I found out later that night that the song was called "Divine Moments of Truth" by Shpongle. Phil came back in and took the music away. Ethan was in his own state of mind by now, smiling away sometimes; in awe other times. Suddenly we heard a sound like a hammer coming down, over and over again. I looked at Ethan, he looked at me; we both knew that this sound was real. In my heart, I knew that this was the neighbor fixing up his house. But in my mind, I wanted to explore. Ethan came with me.
When we opened the door, the colors were amazing. The sky was the bluest blue I'd ever seen. The trees came alive, even though the leaves had been falling off. Outside was unbelievable to me, as colors seemed to dance.
We saw the person hammering. My mind suddenly sparked and I said, "I dub him, the hammerer." Ethan smiled and was amazed at this. "He will forever be hammering, that is his hell." I said. Looking back, it was an amazing sentence to me. It made perfect since in the new world we discovered. We had found a stick, that resembled a staff. I was on a labeling trip. When Ethan grabbed the staff, he turned into some sort of wizard in my eyes. His label became "Stick Dude". He loved this, smiling all the way.
By now about 5 hours had passed from the beginning and we were starving. I told Ethan we needed to eat. Heading back into the house, we ate eaten prepared sandwiches from the local grocery store. The taste was unbearable, as if there was no taste at all. But like a starving lion, I devoured the sandwich in about four bites. We headed back toward the couches, and continued on our journey. The only thing that was moving now was the entire shelf of beer bottles, melting. Every time I looked away, they would start their A cycle of melting all over again. A never-ending cycle, I told myself.
After about another hour, my visuals started to fade. I was still warm, but the mushrooms themselves had not being doing much for me. Ethan told me it was because of the half-eighth that we took. Next time a full-eighth was necessary. He had started to come down too. We talked more, about what we saw, experienced. To my surprise, Ethan said that there was one moment when the trip became bad. I asked him why he didn't mentioned anything to me, and he said that he didn't want me to have one too. I thanked him for that.
By now it was 8:00 and getting dark fast. Time flew by more than I thought. I loved the experience. This was something I wanted to explore and put an effort into. Meditation seemed to be the next step, but in what sort of setting? What should I do differently next time? Should I take more? Drink more orange juice? My mind was filled with so many questions.
But nothing could prepare me for what happened the second time. It was far more intense than the first. But that, my friends, will be another submission.
Note: To All Who Read This:
This is a work of fact. Yes, this happened a few months back and I am typing this as a recollection of the fact. I've always loved to hear about people's experiences, so I decided to submit my own. Though it plays out like a short-story, so does my life. I live it everyday, and I know how it comes out. Please also note, that I am no writer. I did not obtain any sort of degree, nor do I care to. I write how I feel and I feel how I write. Thank you for understanding.
-------------------- GuTTErAL rETCH ~ PRYING OPEN MY THiRD EYE
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