Tag: Existential

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Psilocybin Stories

Psilocybin Insights Into The Indescribable

This post comes from an anonymous sender who had a profound experience with Psilocybin. The first few paragraphs give background on this writer, then you’ll hear about their psilocybin experience, including striking insights similar to things I’ve experienced while tripping. I love relating to all you psychonaut readers&experiencers! Enjoy the following trip 🍄🤪😁😎

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Hello there,

My name is not relevant here but I would like to tell you something. I would like to say straight away that I am trying to describe something indescribable. This is a contradiction in terms, but I am trying.

I wrote this text original a few days after the experienced trip.

To introduce myself briefly, I take a look at something. I have many siblings. I grew up on a mountain farm. Overall, I had a nice childhood, I would describe myself as nature-loving and curious. My worst experience was probably the unnecessarily cruel divorce of my parents and the experiences from that time. I like to go to the mountains and work with wood. The search for the meaning of life kept busy me, but only in moderation and sometimes in passing. I am married and have healthy and sometimes good children. I can count over thirty years in my life.

I like to travel and one of my most extensive trips until a day in Winter 2019 was, for example, a bicycle trip with my friend from home to the Caucasus. There we climbed the Mount Elbrus.

I consider the student days with my friends and the experience from them to be very important for me. I also made up for the agricultural skilled worker. I work as an engineer in the automotive business.

I have very good friends who I can and want to count among the most important companions on my way.

This very short and extremely incomplete outline should reflect me a little.

And even if I could, for example, fill a beautiful book with the mentioned trip to the Caucasus and its experiences, I would like to tell you about another, much more worthwhile trip.

Or maybe it’s only interesting for me, of course you have to make this judgment yourself.

This part of my trip started on a Winter day in 2019 in an ordinary living room with my friend and led me to the innermost timeless and spaceless.

First of all, so that you only think I’m as crazy as I really am or would be, I would like to note that I have witnessed some formative events such as near-death events and births of my children. In relation to the following experience, these seem to me like little crack on a bowl, which then broke open completely.

I and my friend, the travel companion, have been working intensively on mind-expanding mushrooms for a long time.

He much more than me, he developed the knowledge about it and let me participate. I think Paul Stamets was the trigger, who, like me, is now convinced that these mushrooms are not party drugs, but correctly used as a kind of aid. Here’s something to taste – (Joe Rogan&Paul Stamets video)

We both have moderate experience with hemp and, especially during our study time, a lot of experience with alcohol, but with drugs, I would like to say that we have nothing to do with it.

After studying books and reports from so-called psychonauts, this is a term that is typically used in specialist circles, and considering the risks, I decided to eat five grams of Psilocybe cubensis Golden Teacher with a little honey together with my friend.

Although we had read a number of testimonials and were roughly aware of how the psilocybin contained works, that it does not make you addictive, but tends to promote reflection and empathy, we would not have expected the following, with any fibre of our being.

And the name of the mushrooms, although it seems to describe the easy handling of the growth, says it all.

So of course, we went on a trip with our women after clarification. After ingesting the mushrooms, we went into a cosy room with some classical music and agreed that someone should check on us every half hour. Which then happened through my friend’s wife and an old friend.

Through our research, we knew that the trip would be over after 6 hours at the latest and that there would be no dependencies or physical damage afterwards. The worst to expect was a horror trip, which according to experience reports also harbours positive insights.

And now begins the part that is very difficult for me to put into words.

On the one hand, this is because words, by definition, can only be completely inadequate for something indescribable.

Secondly, my inability. I try anyway, just please be aware that this can in no way be modelled on words, words are something that we humans invented, so they are probably as imperfect, imperfect as everything we humans are and do.

So, we lay on the couch and listened to some nice classical music from an internet radio for the first hour. The psilocybin contained in the mushrooms and digested by the stomach docked in the corresponding places in my brain.

My body and mind, prepared by moderate fasting, catapulted me into different perceptual worlds.

At the beginning we were amused, but then my senses interweaved and the most incomparable trip of my life started.

I started to see very nice, cloud-shaped pictures on the white ceiling. These then gradually began to move to the music. We had more or less expected this because new paths were formed in the brain and it was already described that music can be seen, for example.

This was very nice and I started to reflect and relive the wonderful experiences of my life.

Time and space were about the same as before, but I got a lot of nice insights. My “seeing” was also not as visual as usual, but much more intense.

In the next stage, maybe a quarter of an hour later, my senses have almost completely dissolved and interwoven. And even though I was always approachable, I felt a little crazy about my original point of view.

I wasn’t exactly where I was before and I wasn’t exactly who I was either. I also wondered at this stage how do I know that I am, I am.

I also realized that my five senses so far only gave me a glimpse of life and the truth.

A friend came into our room and checked on us.

I told him that I couldn’t even describe in a whole life what I’m experiencing and seeing in a moment.

And by seeing I didn’t mean anything visual that is perceptible to the eyes. It was a different way of seeing, for which I already lack the right words. I reflected a lot back and forth and realized what was beautiful and enjoyed it. Although time and space were no longer the same as before, they were still there. I was born with every breath and lived through many lives. I could feel real empathy. It was very moving.

The next level was the most indescribable and so intense and real experience of my life. Time and space dissolved completely, I “was” a kind of perfect bliss and love in which souls touch.

And here I find it hardest to get any idea of it. Words, pictures, everything that is available to me as a person to describe it is completely insufficient to describe it. It’s also not true that I was there. There would be a place there, and it’s not a place. I wasn’t there either. To was there would mean a period of time, and it was not a period of time.

I don’t want to give it a name either, for me it cannot be associated with anything known, so I simply call it It, then you at least know that it is unimaginable.

I have learned that everything is related to everything. Everything is It and I am It too.

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I also found out that I am nothing special as a person, or in other words just as special as anything else.

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My faith, my knowledge, my ego, I as a human being, everything in me, was dissolved and I experienced this completely indescribable perfect bliss and love.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Unfortunately, I can’t find any more suitable words to even begin to describe It.

I don’t want to describe the experience with I “was there”, but rather with I am It.

And that’s not a belief in it, but in my little transport container called the brain, certainty.

The further course of the trip was that I climbed one step down again. Time and space had not yet been opened up to me again in their current form. I then started to reflect on everything bad. My bad sides and mistakes, and the bad sides of the world that we have shaped as humans. That was not nice. I felt sick.

I wanted to know what I can or should do in my life. What’s the point?

I could not answer a single question about what I should or can do with completely right or completely wrong, I recognized my limited sphere of influence and my imperfection.

And although I felt through many lives there was no way to perfection. I asked myself the question of the meaning, I wanted to know what I should do with my new knowledge and experience or how I should continue to act as a person.

Everything was and is so imperfect compared to the experienced.

In addition, everything is connected, and I will soon travel through my life again with its limited sphere of influence. And I asked myself questions after questions, I probably had answers as well, but none of these answers led to the previously felt perfection.

I also knew that I would live my life more or less long. This has a sphere of influence that itself can be influenced, but is nevertheless always limited.

I also learned that we humans are only lives in the midst of life that wants to live. So just as special as everything else, to put it mildly.

For example, when asked if I should slaughter and eat animals, there was no clear or complete answer. I already know that billions of lives are killed in our bodies every second and a similar number are born again. This life, every single cell wants to live just as much as a cow, right? Should a killed life serve my food? So, should as many or as large a life as possible be protected?

Life always means death, but where does life begin?

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None of my countless questions had a clear and perfect answer.

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The great realization from this was that there is no perfect right or completely wrong answer to these questions.

But there are better and worse answers, with no definitive borders in between.

In this phase of the trip I learned what I should do for my life, what the meaning of my life is, which was previously beautiful but also imperfect.

The experienced “It” is everything and therefore also what is bad at the moment.

What is so logical, simple but also difficult at the same time and anyway the only thing I can do is over me. In two words: make an effort!

I should try, I will not make perfect decisions, but I can choose between better and worse. And for me, the better is preferable to the worse. And for the current part of my trip, I’ll try to do that.

Now I am here in front of my computer and feel sorry about my imperfection in translating and writing these lines with imperfect meaning. Lines which try to describe something indescribable.

But I try anyway because I think it makes sense. That the whole cosmos, every cell, life also make an effort.

I have the time as an aid.

I have no faith after this trip, instead I have certainty. I am It too and I try.

With love for my wife, my children, family, friends and everything else,

Me.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

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Psilocybin Stories

Samantha’s Psilocybin Surrender

Thank you for joining. 

This Psilocybin Story comes to you from Samantha Scrivens.

And if you have a Psilocybin Story the world needs to hear, email psilocybinstories@gmail.com with why you’d like to share your experience, even if you aren’t a writer!

The world needs more of these right now and forever. 

Thank you so much Samantha for sharing yours!

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Here is “Psilocybin Surrender”

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Can you sequence a dream?  

Pinpoint when it started?  

Likely the setting is a murky, submerged Monet. Conversations of grave importance are whittled to a phrase or single word, if you can recall any at all. Often it’s the sheer fear of being chased, the horror of teeth cracking from oozing gums, the uncontainable joy of flying, that sticks with us in the waking state.

I can no more eloquently detail my solo psychedelic expedition.  

But as you might describe your nightly and matutinal routines: brushing, flossing, drifting off to monotonous tones of a murder mystery podcast, so can I share my trip prep and epilogue: SET, SETTING, SUBSTANCE, SITTER, SESSION, SUPPORT, & SURRENDER.

(mind)SET

I asked myself “Why?”  Why take psilocybin mushrooms under a blindfold and headphones for four hours? My journaled response: 

  • to look the dragon of fear in the mouth
  • to gain experience and knowledge to offer others. 

There’s always a certain fear surrounding psychedelics. What if I have a bad trip? What if I’m that one person that keeps tripping forever? What if I need the paramedics? What if…whatif…whatif…Every time, without fail, this preparatory cry plagues me like a colicky infant to an exhausted mother.  I console my small self with wisdom from Michael Pollan, who experienced a similar protest before each of his psychedelic experiences in How to Change Your Mind. 

“That voice, I came to realize, was my ego trying (selfishly) to prevent me from a having an experience that, among other things, would undermine that ego.”

Even as I sat with the chocolate truffle in my perspiring palm, invoking divine Reiki energy and protection, my heart slammed like a relentless wave. I took a deep breath, then another, until my pulse subsided.

Fear would undoubtedly rear its ugly head again, snarling and snapping jaws at my bliss, and so I designated my breath as my anchor. After years of practicing yoga and advising students to “return to the breath”, I figured this would be second nature, a well-honed tool to mitigate anxiety during the trip.

As beginner in the burgeoning field of psychedelic assisted psychotherapy, I needed to wade through my own internal terrain before I could hope to hold space for others. Hence I write right now, attempting to distill the ineffable experience into words.  

Next I SET intentions: 

  • to dissolve mental barriers
  • to make peace with the past and calm qualms for the future
  • to immerse myself in love and gratitude

At least, that’s what they would have been. There is no guaranteeing what will emerge in the psychedelics state. Whatever needs to surface from mental rabbit holes around which I typically veer, will surface. So I chose, with full faith in my spiritual guides, higher Self, and divine energy, to SURRENDER to the process, leaving my open journal alongside my bed as a remindful totem.  

SETTING

Although I find that submerging in nature is the most idyllic setting for psychedelics, this adventure was meant to explore the inner landscape. Snuggled in bed behind a locked door with sunlight splashing upon my thawing body on a cold winter afternoon created physical and mental comfort from which I could embark on my journey. With a fully charged battery and downloaded playlist compiled by John’s Hopkins University’s psilocybin researchers, I cut cyber connection to the outside world.  

I knew that the music would evoke an array of emotion, that some songs I simply wouldn’t like: the deep Gregorian chant reminiscent of a Catholic Mass; the tinny pitch of a single flute; another crescendo of screaming violins. I promised myself that I wouldn’t skip a song in attempt to skirt something I’d rather not face. “Music becomes a mirror of transcendental forms of consciousness,” the playlist developer, psychologist Bill Richards, Ph.D., explained in an interview with Inverse. My only option would be to surrender to the piercing choir and sharp cello notes evoking tension in my hands, as well as the Hindi chanting and drumming spreading smiles across my face. Along with the music, I steeped a fresh thermos of chamomile tea alongside lavender essential oil and tissues, and cleared the air with sage plumes, additional esoteric comforts to augment calm throughout the experiment.  

SUBSTANCE

Just like a beginning backpacker might start with a one-night trip before venturing out into the wild for a weeklong excursion, I wanted to dabble with a light dosage for my first solo expedition sans sitter. After an hour, I considered nibbling an additional sliver, but I decided to give the mushrooms time to work their magic. I’m grateful for that patience, as I soon felt akin to the protagonist in Gulliver’s Travels, subject to minuscule pixies swarming my skin suit. Of course due to the lesser dosage, I was very much still grounded in the realization that I was, in fact, settled in my own bed and not strapped down on the tiny island of Lilliput.  

Physically, psilocybin connects parts of the brain that aren’t usually linked, temporarily dissolving the default mode network that is responsible for the ego. My ego, however, was still very much present, albeit in the passenger’s seat rather than behind the wheel. I would’ve (and still would) liked to more deeply explore the universe from within through a stronger dose, but not without a sitter to hold space.

SITTER

“Would you mind staying with me for upwards of 5 hours while I lie in bed and listen to classical music?” is a huge favor to ask; and in fact probably categorizes better as a job. As I didn’t have access to such, I shrugged and said, “I’ll be my own sitter, let my breath be my guide.” Although that resolute determination seems sensible in sobriety, it quickly dissolves under a mind altering substance.

I used the bathroom mid-trip, dazzled by the ethereal, vibrant world glowing outside myself. As I nestled into bed again and saw the eye pillow’s slow descent, the Fear Dragon’s scorching breath ignited my worry. I don’t want to go back under.  Oh God. I actually just want this to be over. Maybe I should stop the music, toss the eyemask, and explore myself through yoga. No…that won’t solve this anxiety either. Fuck, I’m thirsty. Gulp. Should I call a friend?And tell them, what, that I took mushrooms and am having a difficult time? That would only make me (not to mention them) more uncomfortable. Oh God, this is why having a sitter is recommended. 

“A SITTER” was the first bullet point I scratched in my journal towards the tail end of the trip. Have a sober someone to hold safe space; a thread of continuity weaving a safety net to assure that you’re doing great, that everything is ok, is paramount. That presence provides a foundation from which the ego can relax so that the rest of consciousness can continue traversing the unknown.

SESSION

At first it felt like I was lying in bed for an afternoon nap. Sunlight danced between branches seemingly in time to Vivaldi’s mandolin measures. But I can no more sequence thoughts or detail images after the first hour than describe how I fell asleep last night. I can, however, identify warm fuzzy feelings of contented bliss amongst harmonious strings and hauntingly enchanted voices. Until I had to tinkle during the trip’s peak.  

It was as I returned to bed that I struck myself with a sudden desire for it all to be over. It dawned on me that I was in the middle of the ocean in a rowboat. Briefly I deliberated biting into an emergency Xanax, but realized that I would be robbing myself of a rich opportunity for growth.

“Surrender” the word jumped from my journal as I sipped tea with shaky hands. I knew that, even if I had a sitter, shaman, entire paramedic team, I would be the only person able to help myself. The psychonaut mantra echoed, “The only way out is through.” And the music will carry me through, I told myself. Although there wasn’t another physical person present, I knew that I wasn’t alone. Calling upon divine feminine energy, The Great Earth Mother for protection, I saw my small self cocooned into her cosmic cuddle.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.  

A moment later Mozart’s heavy Vesperae Solennes de Confessore gave way to Vivaldi’s Gloria in D Major, releasing rushing relief throughout my entire being. Through jubilant strings I saw a landmass, a continent upon the horizon, and knew that I was going to make it. 

Night darkened. I’d been lying in bed for nearly 5 hours. I really wanted to make it to the end of the playlist, featuring Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles and Louie Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World, but needed a break from music and my room. As I ventured outside to gaze upon the moon and stars, tears welled, not from relief or astonishment at life’s intrinsic beauty and interconnectedness, but from an overwhelming sensation of isolation. Mopping exhausted eyes, I returned inside, grounded myself with (non-psychoactive) dark chocolate, transcribed what I could, and slept.  

SUPPORT

I’d always experienced psychedelics with another soul, holding hands to skirt dark shadows. Afterward, the space that was usually full of reminiscent giggling was rife with lonely contemplation. I’d noticed the gaping disconnect between the altruistic, wholesome life I desired and my current, unfulfilled existence. As after every psychedelic trip, I felt as if I’d come back with a handful of seeds, but lacked the tools with which to cultivate them. Wreaked with worry, I reached out to an old friend.

Over chips, salsa, and frosted mug of Pacifico, Smeagol held space for me to vent smoke clouding my mind. “We can really only do the best we can with what we have,” she mused in response to my whines of wasting potential and squandering opportunities. With a wry smile she added, “Besides, it’s not like we’re really free,” nodding to our many past dialogues on of the farce of free will. It was a relief, but still I realized why these experiences are often communal, as in ayahuasca ceremonies, and involve a shaman for integrating a transcendental overload.  

SURRENDER

In the days following, I wrote and wrestled, attempting to solve a mental Rubik’s cube, spinning worries round and round, until I noticed that the puzzle was color changing. Maybe there is no solution. It’s ok to not be ok, to walk away from this battle with anxiety. 

Surrendering, I realized, was an avenue to peace.  

As for the seeds, I’m planting them one at a time. Literally in gardens, and figuratively, through this piece here, hoping to grow a community in which we can facilitate safe, supported consciousness exploration, thus expanding awareness of interconnectedness.

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Check out more of Samantha’s posts here on her website.
Or connect with her on Instagram.

Thank you for reading🙏❤️😄💙🍄

Categories
Psilocybin Stories

Existential Thoughts

I went into this writing as a story idea — this would be a suicide note sent to a friend, and the friend is now reading this note which they received a day or two after their friend killed themselves.

I don’t plan on committing suicide, but this quickly turned into my own existential thoughts on life, to myself, and less of a suicide note. I wrote it in one sitting with pencil and paper, in late October 2019-it was one of those flow moments. 

I wasn’t on magic mushrooms when writing this, I’m not even sure if they were on my mind, but I know they helped shape some of these thoughts.

I decided to keep some of the things I planned on editing out, in – they are in parentheses. Can be read with or without them.

Here is Existential Thoughts:

_____________________________

I can’t put into words how I feel right now, but I’ll try.
I’m young, but I feel so old; restless.

(A lost soul in a cold world.)

I found out this is a cold world; heartless.
Or maybe too much heart, and not enough brain,

(No thinking in this world, or you’ll be called insane; psycho, crazy.)
(Just do what we’re told.)

Cuz the people who think are all called insane; psycho.
They want us to do what we’re told and then feel shame; brainwash. (obedience)

I just can’t take it anymore, this game, I fold; The End.

Yes-I know I’m (loathing, dwelling) drowning in self-pity,
But I’m no Hunter S. Thompson, 
I can’t always “ride the waves of life” 
Sometimes those waves get so big, they suck me in and throw me against the ocean floor.

(And it fucking hurts. A fucking lot.)

Anyway, I know that everyone has their own waves to try and ride so I don’t even know why I’m sending this out.

No one actually cares. The world turns, the sun sets and rises and has been here for like billions of years..maybe..who knows what’s really real, I don’t think anyone does, except our experiences seem real, I don’t know.

I wonder what death will be like..or that it won’t “be” at all, not for our egos at least, 
Bye bye whoever I thought I was, Hello reality.
But this life is miraculous, it’s, there’s no words that can capture what this is, “life” we call it.
It’s a fucking trip.
Don’t know where it came from, don’t know where it goes.

I’m not sure if anything actually matters.
If we’re just dust in the wind, which in a sense we are because the Earth is just a small speck in the Universe that we don’t know how big it is!!
So if we’re just dust in the wind then why do we live? —or better, why do we want/desire to live?

It’s built within us—everyone wants to survive, mostly everyone. I do, but I just don’t fucking know life’s purpose! Fuck…maybe life has no purpose, although it feels as if it does.

Paradoxes on top of paradoxes on top of paradoxes; life is an unsolvable puzzle…maybe.

What if it could be solved? Or maybe there’s no solving to do because it just “is”
Maybe we’ve been taught, or our biologies lead us to desiring to “solve” life.
What would that even mean?-To solve life…
Haha, it sounds ridiculous but I think everyone I know is trying to do it. I know I am…Like, to experience ecstasy all the time?

I think that’s what most people are seeking—to feel good, and not feel bad,
And we’ve come up with a million and one ways to do this, but, it all ends in death, right?

I don’t know, maybe there’s life after death, maybe we .. or maybe life-whatever this is, just goes on without us.

Maybe it’s indifferent to our feelings—kind of like how we humans are mostly indifferent to others’ feelings and especially indifferent to animals’ feelings – I mean, we eat them. So what makes us better than them?? I don’t think we are better, but I do believe the collective human conscious believes we are better than animals…I’m just trying to put things into perspective, like an objective perspective-because we each have our own individual ego/self-perspective, but I think there’s more to life than humans-A lot more! Maybe I’ll find it on the other side-like I’ll be born as an alien or something…stupid…

But anyway-I think when people, when I, you, everyone are confronted with (the end) death, we get defensive. We don’t want to believe the truth of reality so we never live in a reality of truth. Facades and masks and makeup and clothes—these things strengthen a false reality, so what would strengthen a truer reality? – I do still believe in wearing clothes, geez I’m not an animal…Or are we just animals playing dress-up? Haha.

I don’t know. I think though. I think a lot. 
Sometimes I wish I didn’t think so much, but sometimes I like thinking.

So strengthening a truer reality..I think part of it comes down to a deep understanding/realization of death. -It’s hard for anyone to understand what we aren’t currently experiencing. So maybe one thing could be an imagination/visualization of losing all of one’s possessions—imagine what it would be like to have nothing and be on the streets of this cruel world. 

It seems like most people don’t want to know the truth of reality, they want to believe they will live forever until they die, and I don’t think that’s wrong because I believe in the cosmos-that all things that happen are supposed to happen, but if the cosmos is just another made-up idea, well I don’t know – people who live a completely selfish life and die don’t worry about the consequences of their actions—they’re dead, but I think each persons’ actions impact us all, I do believe in that – cause and effect, which I only have a limited understanding on.

But then also if the whole human race would go/goes extinct, what does it matter? 

I have no idea, but I have instinct/intuition, and it has a desire to do good, to help, to live a life where if when I die—I came/come back as a human(or animal) on the other side of the planet, that I can feel safe and loved—that I can be born into a world of love-a world where love rules – where we help each other rather than punish and shame, where we can look a stranger in the eye and really, really know, that they are me, and I am them, and that in what we have labeled as imperfections or flaws,-we (can) look at our own shortcomings/mishaps first before judging … that we won’t even judge, or that our judgements will be Love.-that, why would I ever try to hurt someone who is me, and I them?

It may never happen-it might not matter at all, but this is where I’m being called. I don’t know how to deal with people who hate—and I could be wrong but from what I’ve learned in human history-I’ve learned that masses of people tend to hate love…Like all the prophets get assassinated or thrown in jail. That seems backwards/wrong.

Are these “happenings” rooted in a corrupt system that desires control by any means?
Using the media to plant subconscious(selfish) ideas into human minds that/which benefit/strengthen the current power/system?
Or is it (“just”) conspiracy? 

I don’t think it’s conspiracy, I think it’s another truth of reality that the “winners”/people in power/many people, don’t want to see/look at. If you go back in history and study it, really study it, you’ll see this to be true(see the truth of this harsh reality); control, greed, more, more, never enough, more, but never being satisfied. (So) When does it end?

It ends when our desire for truth is stronger than our desire for more(of anything)…What is true and what’s not?

I have no fucking idea, but I know and I feel a truth inside of me that yearns to live.

(Maybe this life/society isn’t meant to live like that, or maybe we experience truth in death, or maybe we are evolving-into something beautiful, as/like a caterpillar turned butterfly).

But it’s A World of Love that I want to live in.

And maybe our own heaven and hells are within each of us, and we, as individuals, me-I, am in control of whether I experience real love or not-that if I want to change the world I need to change myself. It’s probably true, but I still don’t change. I continue as I am, and can I change?-I’m sure I could, at least it feels like we have that free will. But I still don’t change. I envision a beautiful world-but beautiful for who?-Humans? Will we still eat animals?-I think our fear to survive is stronger than compassion for animals..Or beautiful for “Americans?”-To live believing we are superior to others of the human race because of where we were born and had zero control of?..

Even if I want to help make the world better, it’s because it would be a better place to be if I died and came back, that’s still selfish. It focuses on “I” “Me” “My” still.

(So what’s the point?)

So the point is that I have no fucking clue if what I or we do is “right” or “good” because a lot of people are trying to do what’s good for them and their “tribe”

(So) Instead of being told what I should do and believe in, I follow a/my calling-maybe my calling is just a sum of my experiences and observations, I don’t know-but it’s strong within me. I am no perfect person-that doesn’t exist. I (just) am that I am.

I have a desire to go on/continue trying to explain or discuss these ideas, but I realized that some people will understand; and maybe I’m biased but I think those that understand are also seeking truth-(they are on a path of love).

And many may think I’m crazy-but I know that it’s common for people to fear and hate on what they don’t understand…

Cuz the people who think are called insane.

One more thing—I’ve observed numerous amounts of people who are actually afraid to think against societal ideas—to think for themselves, for the fear of being condemned or whatever(which is one reason I write anonymously).

-And yea it makes sense – a lot of prophets and peace makers have been/are targeted and killed or put in a cage. The system doesn’t desire to be changed – it craves/desires evil, corruption, power, control at the expense of anything and anyone.

But I think it can change as more and more people genuinely want truth and love, and as difficult as it is in this world to follow one’s truth, it will become easier as more people join(the movement); To Love-support, help, cooperate, encourage, collaborate, in authenticity, in knowing that I am you, and you are me.

(How can we know if we’re authentically loving ourselves and others?…)

Love—what does it really mean?

—Not to hate ourselves because of our vices, or should we hate ourselves until we do what we think we should do? -Or Loving ourselves through it all-making progress as we strive and fail, and continue to strive to live in a state of Love…

I don’t know.

(Maybe you’ll find something of use from my words-as all we/I know and say is a result of my experiences and observations.)

(This whole thing just flowed out of me and onto the pages in one sitting)

There’s a lot of thinking going on inside of me, sometimes too much?-No-it’s all what it is and what “it” is is ___________. -There’s no word I can think of-but the experience is a oneness with everything-a connection that is beyond thought-beyond words-beyond judgements-a deep peace. -Knowing that it’s all okay despite the (horrendous) truth of reality – I cross our horrendous because we may label it that because of our ideas of what is right and wrong(which a person’s thoughts of right and wrong are all relative to the human species-or race, gender, etc) is subjective. -(to our personal beliefs, not the truth of reality.)

But anyway!—yes, that it’s all okay, that we have very little control of whatever it is we are experiencing-but we have some control of (I think) our own actions-not the external world.

And that that is okay too.

And that you and I are going to die one day, and that that is okay.

Why wouldn’t it be okay??

-Because we thinkit’s not “okay” or “good”

Maybe death-it is the greatest thing that will ever happen to us.

I don’t know – and I don’t want to think that I know, because I don’t, (but) it-(death) is natural-and is “natural” indifferent?

Are we in a simulation? – maybe.
Is Jesus the only way to “eternal life?” -maybe.
Is there no purpose to anything, including this text? -maybe.

I guess one of the main takeaways I want readers to get from this is to really think about life—your own life, others’ lives, animals’ lives, and imagine/envision/think about what a “perfect”/ideal life would look like?

What does it look like to you?-And then imagine what it might be like for someone completely different from you—you may come to the realization that no amount of thinking will change reality’s truth, or who knows, maybe it will.

Are there similar characteristics in these perfect worlds?-or do your biases and human nature create a perfect world for just you-regardless of the feelings and thoughts of others?…

Thank you for reading.

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Love. Peace. Shrooms.