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Discussion in 'GMD Social Forum' started by Xorv, May 1, 2007.
Thank Valaya, Grungni and Grimnir.
Talking to my brother about his many dmt trips it sounds fucking crazy some of the shit that happens,like he went into this cave with heaps of small gummy bears who put on the most insane acrobatics display he's ever seen after they spotted him and when he laughed they all started calling him a heartless bastard and threw rocks at him and heaps of other crazy stuff.
He's getting me a gram of this 'changa' from some guy in the Czech Republic for when I get home from work at Xmas as well as some more trippy takkas.
drank a little under 3oz's of lean (and of course weed too).
When you run out.
Anyways. I'm going to drink some booze, fuck it.
Enjoy those beers man!
I can't wait for this at Xmas, I haven't been so excited about something in a long time.
One recent evening six sovereign adults, taking full responsibility for their own consciousness and their own bodies, gathered for sacred ceremony with changa, a herbal mixture rich in monamine oxidase inhibitors and infused with the forbidden fruit of DMT. I was one of those adults and the two bowls I smoked were respectively my twelfth and thirteenth journeys with inhaled DMT. I have done regular work with DMT over the years in its incarnation in the Ayahuasca brew, more than 50 journeys since 2003, but as everybody who chooses to explore these realms knows, drinking Ayahuasca is special, there is usually a fair degree of negotiation with the brew, the experience is drawn out over several hours and the loving spirit of the vine, Gaian mother of our planet, is the guiding hand. Although there are points of contact and similarity, smoked DMT is very different, a rocket ship to the other side of realty, short acting but extremely intense and with no possibility of negotiation if you get the dose right. So I undertook my two recent changa journeys with a considerable degree of trepidation — particularly so since the last time I smoked DMT (then in its pure form rather than changa) I had one of the most challenging and frankly terrifying experiences of my life (see about half way through this article for my account of that previous experience which took place on 30 September 2011: Giving up the Green Bitch.
I am happy to say that the two bowls of changa I smoked a few evenings ago treated me much more gently. Contrary to reports I have read about changa I was only fully immersed in the experience for 5 or 6 minutes with each bowl, a few minutes less than with pure DMT. While I was in, however, I was really in and it was unmistakably the DMT realm that I had entered, unutterably alien and strange, yet eerily familiar from my previous journeys — known territory the essence of which, paradoxically, is to remain forever unknowable.
There is a magician at work in these realms of ultimate enchantment and what he showed me (I always experience smoked DMT as a male energy, and always experience Ayahuasca as a female energy) were evolving, living artworks of line and light in colours and arrangements so fantastic and extraordinary that they stunned and astonished me. These creations were loaded, packed, stuffed to bursting point with what felt like millions of terabytes of coded information waiting to be unzipped and deciphered somehow, sometime, when I’m ready to handle it. “Take a look at this”, the magician seemed to be saying, and he would draw out a design between his extended hands and fingers, a design filled with meaning and sentience and fearsome, poignant beauty that was at times so overwhelming, so full-on, so relentless that I panicked and opened my eyes in an attempt to stop it bearing down on me. “How about this,” he’d say, or “have a quick peek over here,” or “what about this one” — with each glimpse showing me more numinous, awe-inspiring, imposing, scintillating, glittering, implacable majesty.
And what came with the “show” were breathtaking feelings — intuitions, presentiments — of the love and mystery that energise and infuse the cosmos, operating at the grand universal scale and reaching down, in ever-reverberating fractals, as above, so below, to the realm of individual consciousness. As I phased back into that realm I looked up through the glass ceiling of our ceremonial space to the stars lighting the sky and then down again to the others watching over me and understood that we whose privilege it is to have been born in a human body are united with the eternal and the ineffable and that our purpose here is to give love and explore mystery to the limit of our ability.
There are immense forces infiltrating our society and narrowing our minds that work against this mission. Indeed that great mystic William Blake (28 November 1757 — 12 August 1827) was right when he wrote: “If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.”
Weird when you put a substance in your body that alters your mind while keeping you sober, that you retain all of your ordinary faculties but new ones are added. The mind is uncoiled and reflected upon itself, seeing the foundations of its own ideas. Sensory impressions interpreted by different levels of some sort of internal energetic interpretation. Some types are very basic and obvious, like fear versus joy, death versus life, reflected in things like disgust and desire. But then some are more complex, like the nuances of flavors or music. All of these little sensory impressions collect in webs of association to form concepts, and we are always rushing to link them to words, but now you can unhinge and concepts are bigger and easier to connect. Hours of words are condensed to seconds of momentary nonverbal understandings that go in a chain, like novels taking up each page of a book, like each paragraph is a chapter and each word is a page.
It is hard to explain exactly what conclusions you reach in this state, but they are very obvious things simply made more obvious to a point of becoming a novel insight. First, we are all the same. The atoms change in our bodies every few years, our feelings, attitudes, and thoughts change as time goes on, yet we are still ourselves, whether it's getting black-out drunk at 26 or mowing the lawn at 11, something stayed the same. It's hard to describe but we are beingness, energy, consciousness, you can call it lots of things but what it's called is only important to point the lens of the mind in such a way to not mistake itself with the content inside of itself.
In other words, if consciousness is caused by chemicals and brain activity, then what makes us who we are is not really something exclusive to us, so what we define as ourselves can also define another person. The parts of our brains do the same thing and are arranged roughly the same way. You don't find people with their frontal lobes in the back, or doing astrophysics in their brain stems. Like we all taste with our tongues, we are like drops of water that spread from another drop of water, all distinct yet what makes them all distinct is what makes them all the same at the same time. It's like how both of us can do 1 + 1 = 2 in our heads. We're doing the same thing. Our brains can do a lot of the same things, but this world is so big and we have so much opportunity to create a deep, nuanced personality that we are like trees forgetting we're a forest because we are so focused on the different shapes of each other's branches.
So what does this imply? Just how much the arbitrariness and meaningfulness of life are tied together. Any given moment we have a variety of choices and as we repeat them, we create trends in our internal and external lives. But we didn't exactly stumble into those places, we chose along the way and could have chosen many different things.
Meaning is not a thing in and of itself like a sensory experience, but a collection of things. Things don't mean anything until enough of them are mashed together. Like these words, they'd be nothing but squiggly lines on a screen if it weren't for your experiences that you linked to words and eventually linked to written symbols. It's like how Chinese means nothing to you if you didn't grow up using it to make sense of things and communicate. Language is all sounds without concepts to glue them to.
And yet meaning is something we take seriously almost to the point we define ourselves like a physical constant. It's absurd if you don't attach to it, and makes perfect sense when you do. You choose to believe. You choose to make solid what can be amorphous, like your thoughts, habits, and feelings.
It's like reading about an ancient culture's wacky views and thinking, "how the hell did they believe that?" but they were ignorant and had to have some idea of things, some form of being just like we do now. Because possibility is so pervasive we have to put limits on it to stay sane. We have strange social codes because we have to have some way to communicate, some way to have continuity and identity in our existence as identifying consciousness that exists beyond identity. If it lets itself.
It's like how associations of sensory data can make concepts. If there were no cutoffs, we would be connecting everything into one grand concept and would be exhausting our brains. We don't need to fully forge in our memories every experience from tying our shoes in the morning to going to bed at night. To describe everything in snippets is sufficient.
On a more primal level it is frightening that some kind of change is always happening and that nothing is permanent. The anchor we have in our bodies and the narrative in our memories is temporary. We can be washed into being another person unless we hold onto things, "I like this, I do this, I believe this." It's funny what "I" can mean in different states. It doesn't really mean anything in particular, but it's a sort of meta-meaning. It's an awareness that exists within a great web of sensation and concept, and these can come from inside or outside the head.
Ultimately that distinction is made up by the mind. You see, a lizard sitting in the sun doesn't space out from the warm sun and start thinking about taco trucks in Texas. It doesn't have the brain power. The senses are a constant feed and their little brains react.
Humans follow roughly the same model, but we have the neocortex. We can imagine stuff that is not there and play it back to our lizard brain. We can think of delicious food when none is there and salivate. A lizard can't.
We can abuse our ability to simulate different realities to change where our feed to the emotions comes from. The senses, or the head? Outside, or inside? Neither is real. You experience the inside of your mind with the same mind you experience the outside. It's just that your thoughts are so private you can end up mistaking that privacy for being in another realm altogether, as if the conjurings of the mind whose building blocks come from the sensory world are altogether separate from it.
No, you are the phenomenon of consciousness experiencing the universe one body at a time. Senses, sensory experiences and concepts are used by you every bit as much by others, and each body is unique and every life is, so in that sense we are all different. The same legos building different things, getting so caught up in the difference in the structure that they lose track of the legos and the process of building which spans lifetimes and is more permanent than any unique individual that comes from the vat of creation.
I've been smoking for around ten years and I like to roll my own smokes. I'm use to it so much that it is habitual for me, every 20,30 minutes am outside smoking. I love smoking.
I did shrooms a few weeks ago again with a friend. It was really interesting because at first we were super excited and everything seemed so correct and awesome. But then after a couple hours, the high started to wear down and it sucked. It was like "back to normal life" sorta thing and it was a feeling I never really want to have ever again. We smoked a shit ton of weed and watched scary movies, but I think we were both depressed as fuck and wanted to be high for as long as possible.
When I woke up the next day I was fine, but i think im getting too old for that kind of euphoric high. Shit gets too real.
I'll never do shrooms or any of that shit that makes you see stuff ever again. I did a bunch of shrooms without realizing how much I took and I had a very bad experience on it. Nope never again fuck that nope
You don't necessarily hallucinate. It really depends on how you use it.
Lol I had nightmarish hallucinations on maybe a double dose of Robitussin, three beers, and most importantly I think... A fever of over 100. (once all that shit started happening I became too scared to take anything to bring the fever down... Wife said I told her it would kill me... )
I was bored on this ship in far North Queensland one time and drank a whole bottle of cough medicine and watched Where The Wild Things Are..an interesting experience to say the least, I was tripping quite a lot but hated the fact that it made me very itchy and could taste the rotten stuff for a couple of days.
A few of my buddies extracted/made some mescaline and went camping today. Cant wait to hear from them tomorrow.
First time I had shrooms, I saw a wall of smoke where there was none. And me and a buddy saw a kitchen table start to ripple like water in a pond. It was awesome.
found some morphine pills, will try them soon.
I'm drunk. I drank a 12-ounce bottle of Prairie Bomb! (13% ABV) and a 12-oz bottle of Prairie Pirate Bomb! (14%ABV) back to back. Lovely beers, but that's beside the point.
I have a cold and allergies and I might as well enjoy something. I will probably call in tomorrow because responsibility is a dumb burden and I more than pull my own weight at work. They can live without me, even though I'm sure that I'll catch hell for it when I go back on Monday.
For once, I'd rather lay in bed watching Bridezillas and listening to early Ulver than dealing with work bullshit. I'm tired of being the only one there who can handle advanced projects and solve problems.
Inputting data on the reactions of human females to formal mating rituals?
I just love how ridiculous those bitches are. Nothing is good enough for them! I'm happy if you like one thing that I do.