What is Ego? What is Soul?
Plus learn a Soul Meditation practice to get in touch with your Soul.
What is Ego? What is Soul?
Plus learn a Soul Meditation practice to get in touch with your Soul.
1—There are different strands of magic mushrooms. Since it’s mostly illegal, you will likely not know how strong the mushrooms you have are, and what effects they might have. So it’s best to begin with a low dose.
I prefer higher doses, but for microdosing begin with .1 or .2 grams. You most likely won’t feel anything. Even at half a gram you might not feel anything. So begin low, then go from there.
If you don’t want to feel anything, continue with the .1 or .2 grams. If you want to feel some effects, go to 1 gram, and if you want the whole experience, take 3.5 or more grams.
Remember, each person reacts different to psilocybin. If you are taking other medicine, your medicine may effect your trip — whether it makes you not feel anything, or makes you feel something different, it just depends.
Safe bet is to begin with a small amount and go from there.
Anyway I think psychedelics are basically harmless. For me, they have been more than harmless. They have been extremely beneficial, helping me come to accept parts of myself I didn’t like before, increasing my self-awareness, raising my critical thinking skills, and deepening my spirituality.
The education system, and maybe family members, have taught you and I that “All drugs are bad, mmkay”, but that’s not true!!! Some drugs are bad, but some drugs are better than good, like psilocybin.
You might not feel some of the awesome effects of psilocybin if you are microdosing, but if that’s what you want, start with a small amount and then go from there. I’m excited for you.
The Psychedelic Trip Journal has three sections:
Part One prepares you for foreseen factors, protecting you from a bad trip and preparing you for an optimal experience.
Part Two is filled with activities to help ground yourself and enhance your experience. If you’re having a bad trip this section helps shift your focus. If you’re having a good trip this section gets you more in the zone of the present moment — being completely here now.
Part Three is a section of reflection. A place to write and draw what you experienced throughout your psychedelic journey.
Sometimes I get high, sometimes I get low, but I’m calm as can be, in a room full of strangers but oh my, don’t try to get close, cuz I’m just gonna leave, cuz baby I’m a Lone Ranger..open eyes open roof gimme miles give me truth….(Rachel Platten, Lone Ranger; it’s my soul song) I died a physical death. I chose to come back… my physical sight is different now;
There’s so much more to this world. Then I started the mushrooms, for PTSD. Psilocybin IS a medicine. I thought all my relationships fell apart bc it was someone else’s fault, or it was my fault.. there is no “fault”.. there is just you, & who you are. Be that. Be that thing. That most primal, natural thing. When a man comes who doesn’t try to cage or capture that “Isness” of me, that is the man I’ll stay with
Until then, realize you are a mirror, they are a mirror..it’s all the same tapestry, of which you are a thread…
…You know, I guess what I wanted to say was look for nothing, everything already is…
Strain Type: Psilocybe Cubensis
Source: Mycolabs @myco_labs_canada
One thing I really love about this strain is how it really does have the ability to teach. We all have things within us that we need to work on. Things we keep hidden from others and sometimes hidden from ourselves. Many times it’s easy to just ignore it and hope it goes away or gets better. Golden Teachers will bring it to the surface and make you face it. Being removed from yourself. Your “paradoxical” self is very liberating, educational and can also be very painful. Especially if you’re not in touch with yourself. Your self image more likely than not, is false. We are never the person we think we are. Nor can we ever be that person. At least these will teach us how to come to terms with that.
I find the taste of these to be fairly mild. It’s like a sweet almond with a bit of earthy aftertaste. The effects both the physical and psychologically could be felt within the first 30 mins. My legs felt jelly like. My hands were tingling with pins and needles. This sensation continued on. Which made walking feel like I was wearing snow boots two sizes too big. My hands were frozen. My face flush and my mouth was pretty much numb. My mood however was completely relaxed, carefree and childlike.
There is a continuous high but its intensity comes in waves leading up to the peak. What I like to call “waves of deception.” The reason I give them such a name is the deceptive nature of these waves. One moment bliss, total clarity of mind and peace. The next moment will turn the other way. In comes darkness my old friend. Both equally parts of your psyche. Now you can see things from a different perspective. All your issues you have been dealing with rearrange in your head. All colors are sharp and crisp. Natures elements of wind and rain seem to come alive in a new birth. Like seeing them for the first time. Then the other side of the wave hits. The dark side. The undertow trying to pull you down into the abyss of your indecision, regrets, hurts, anxieties and fears. Be brave this is just a wave. It too shall pass. Let the water heal you. Smooth sailing will come again.
(This Is Intended For Viewing Purposes Only. Everything Seen Is For Medical Purposes. All Photos & Videos Are From My Personal Collection. No Sales.)
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I’ll begin my story by introducing myself. My name is Adrian Bennet, I am 46 years old and have been married to my wife Liz for 22 years. We have 3 wonderful children Keziah 11, Ella 9 and Zain 4 months. My wife and I have had many career paths in life and refer to ourselves as autodidacts. We are co-directors of a family business that developes and provides CBD and medicinal mushroom based products, here in Swansea, Wales UK.
Although I wouldn’t have known it as such then, the first experience that I later perceived as psychedelic occurred in my adolescence. There had been a major breakdown in my family when I was 7 years old and shortly after I became the subject of traumatic physical and emotional abuse. Around the age of 9 or 10, after particularly traumatic family events, I would “wake up” around 3 A.M., but somehow I would not be entirely awake, I would be somewhere else completely, physically conscious but in another world completely, being chased and attacked by the most grotesque caricatures. My very young parents would try to hit me to wake me up, but to no avail. Home became a place of distrust and fear. At the age of 10, I found myself at the local mental asylum having brain scans and then would spend the next two weeks picking the electrode glue out of my long blond hair while in school. They could find nothing wrong with me.
As I grew older, I began to leave the house via the window when I felt these episodes coming on and would find myself running and screaming through the streets of our small mining village of Felinfoel, while being attacked by saucers, lasers, monsters and the like. I would run for what seemed like an eternity only to find myself coming around in my underwear 30 minutes or so later with the socks on my feet worn through to my skin. I had no clue about what this could be until around 2 years ago, but I’ll get to that later.
As the abuse continued, I rebelled and became adept in the art of enduring pain. It was normal to hit your kids back then so I said nothing of what was happening. Despite the abuse, I was a caring, empathetic kid, which perhaps originated from a deep seated need to find my own source of love and thus I began to remove all boundaries in the hope of love coming in from the outside. Regular schools couldn’t control my outbursts and so from the ages of 12 to 16 I was placed into the welfare/foster care system. I had an ability to just ace an exam without looking at the subject matter until just before taking it. The answers appeared as ‘pictures’ in my mind and therefore I could never show how I worked things out. Since this was incomprehensible to my teachers, they would accuse me of cheating and would beat me as punishment. I couldn’t win. I now know that this is a symptom of ADHD disorder, and rather than seeing this as a disorder, I prefer to see a beautiful mind, ultimately creative if it’s allowed to express itself. We are IT!
I spent four years in that state boarding school for the “maladjusted,” as it was referred to then, a school filled with a plethora of children in different states of disrepair. Upon leaving this place, I went into the Royal Navy and six months later was honourably discharged on medical grounds. So, by the time I was 16 ½ I found myself on the streets, shooting intravenously all the barbiturates, speed and you name it that I could find. It led me to prison many times, and “killed” me 3 times. Thankfully, the universe had other plans.
At 22 I became a religious person and was “born again” for the next 20 years. I put my head down and played the good lad. My wife and I went to around four different churches over the years, but I attended, many, many more on my own in that time. We were so dissatisfied with those that we even started our own church, which survives to this day. Through these years, we also built businesses for us and they afforded us a comfortable lifestyle filled with cars and houses, but despite all this we still felt empty and unfulfilled. While in the church, I wasn’t allowed to express my utter disillusionment with Christianity, its church and with the way I’d been paraded around by Christians as a poster boy for the war on drugs. My disillusion turned into clinical depression and my daily routine was to find reasons not to kill myself, hence the reckless way I spent money as a compensation. To top it off, most Sundays I’d have to put on my suit and speak at this church or that youth camp and the like, while never quite getting the message.
Enough was enough and I decided to end my life. To this day I can’t explain how I was stopped, but I was and it was like a switch had been flicked. I was on the back end of four hard years of doing iron men triathlons, running a successful construction company, frequently drinking myself into oblivion and still trying to be my best self for my wife and daughters. Even I could see this was unsustainable, so I began to see a therapist (whom I still see) who through Gestalt therapy was finally able to get me to open up for the first time. I had thought the love between my wife and I was gone and we needed to save our marriage, but what I realized was it was my love for myself that needed saving and capturing. It got darker and darker for me as I began to unwind.
I found cannabis helped me to climb out of this, particularly CBD which helped me so much that I eventually found myself living and working on a cannabis farm in southern Oregon. I would work for two weeks at a time here and there and sometimes on a monthly basis, and began setting up our little business. Along the way, I heard about DMT and the thought of it fucking terrified me. Then I heard about ayahuasca, and I couldn’t imagine being in that state for 8-10 hours. No way!! But it got my attention, as did Dr Rick Strassman and his books. I began to see there might be a correlation between my childhood waking night terrors and these experiences. I emailed Dr Strassman and to my surprise he replied within minutes and we conversed over the course of a half dozen messages. It was a great moment for me. He was lovely and very to the point. His advice in the end was “do your own research,” which I did. I really, really did.
I first heard of these plants and medicines in October of 2018 and by March of 2019, I’d soaked myself in research. All the books and podcasts I could devour. All the music that would feed my soul. It was like I was being called, I couldn’t explain it. I knew I just had to do this and with the research I lost my fear. I’d lived with that shit all my life. It was an old friend by now and I’d come to learn that there are no bad or good feelings, just feelings and I needed to view them for myself in whatever fashion pacha mama had in store for me.
So, I took the plunge. I booked a stay at a temple deep in the Amazon jungles of Peru and prepared to partake in seven ayahuasca ceremonies spread over 11 days. I studied more and more writings, I followed the guidance to eat better and generally tried to do all the things they ask of you. What’s the point in going somewhere to experience their expertise and not following the protocol? Makes no sense to me. It never has. I was all in. So, I booked my flights to London then Madrid then Lima to Iquitos and finally found myself deep in the lower Amazon in a longboat with 22 strangers, all bound for the same journey. Once we arrived at the temple, we were looked after by Shipibo tribal folk and 6 shaman.
When I look back it now, it has to be the plant calling me. There is no doubt in my soul. That’s my perception anyway.
I was carrying a lot of trauma into the ceremonial setting and some would call it a severe case of PTSD. When I arrived in Iquitos, I thought even my kids didn’t love me. I felt totally alone in this world. I had fallen completely out of love with myself as well. This is how I began my first ayahuasca journey. I was knocked out like someone had given me an anesthetic, but weirdly I felt ‘operated on’ when I woke. An odd feeling pervaded me all the next day and despite my worry that this wasn’t going to work, I dug deep and continued my preparations for the next session. Oh, how naïve I was. The second night was when the medicine took hold of me and it was mind altering.
The journey began with me drinking a much larger dose of ayahuasca than I was allowed to drink on my first night. It was a rule of the temple. They had their reasons and there is no doubt to me that these human beings know exactly what they are doing. After imbibing, I went back to my space on my mat and as I lay there, I began to feel this seething, white hot emotion that was impossible to keep in. I started to weep bitterly and the agonizing knot that formed in the pit of my stomach was ugly. It takes a lot to make me vomit, but this feeling was so overpowering that it was too much to bear. I broke, calling Publio (my facilitator and now close friend) over to ask, “What is happening to me? Hold me.” I was utterly terrified and felt like I was literally falling apart as a human. All he did was smile, that beautiful smile of his and say, “Oh, Adrian” while stroking my head until I purged on his lap, soaking his clothes with the hottest tears I’ve ever leaked. Then the maestro Shamen, six in all, came in singing their Icaros and it was the most eternal sound I’d ever heard.
A sudden peace came over me, like somebody literally hugged me and laid me down, assuring me “you’re here now, you’re in it, it’s too late to go back, just accept this.” and I did. I lay there staring up into what I can only describe as a cosmological nightmare, with crazy stuff, lots of stuff from which I kept recoiling. Then I heard a voice speak to me without making a sound and it said, “Adrian, why do you always expect all the beauty in your life to come to an end and when it does, you do that? Now look up, it’s beautiful, nothing can hurt you here, LOOK!” When I looked, I was no more, I was nothing and everything. It was just the most unexplainable view. There was this eternal Forever rock formation crossed with an octopus’ body, nothing had size, it just was, and as I stared bodiless, ripped from who I thought I was, this eye just filled my vision with a blues blue, crystalline colour and it just opened up and communicated to me, “I SEE YOU, YOU NO LONGER NEED TO BE SEEN.” The visuals were so profound and the message so deep, it all made sense in a heartbeat. I don’t remember much after that except landing safely again. I knew my mask had been ripped away and I cried and cried, stopping only to sit up every time a shaman came to my mat to sing in my face. They needed us to sit up so they could see all the trauma in you and I’d challenge anyone that said they couldn’t. At least once or twice every evening a shaman would suck something from the top of my head and I’d collapse into a heap while the shaman would proceed to vomit into his or her bowl. Whenever I opened my eyes in this state, the maestros seemed to be in the vision with me. Now it was exactly what I thought it would be: magic, black, white, blue, pink, who gave a fuck, these people were helping to heal 23 westerners and it was working. I video blogged every evening, to make sure I remembered what I had learned, and while some are still a little difficult to watch, the one I made after this evening was especially so.
Each ceremony peeled a layer of myself away that I’d been holding onto as security and once the veil was dropped, I saw the beauty in myself and in everyone around me. The connection was otherworldly.
There was an evening toward the end, the sixth ceremony in fact, where all my passive rage and pent up emotions came to the surface and the medicine took me on a ride I’d never expected. It began during the day, where for some reason, people began to say weird, unpleasant things to me. I arrived at the ceremony really confused, and while we weren’t supposed to vent on anyone, for some reason that day people did. It was odd at the time, but in hindsight it wasn’t anything new, it wasn’t good or bad, it was just interactions and this day was my day to realize once again how naïve I’d been.
Up until this point, I’d done five ceremonies, and they had been all gentle and namaste. I remember actually saying to my now great friend Farid, that I didn’t think I needed the last two ceremonies, I was ready to leave. As a result, I arrived angry as fuck. Sitting in between the two people that I felt most aggrieved by, I blindly smashed as much medicine as I could into my mouth. I was angry, in a “Fuckin come on then!” sort of way. What made matters worse was I was now really angry at myself for allowing this to happen. I became really intoxicated and the whole place was going off. This was ceremony number six, so we had 138 experiences between us up to that point, and had 120 Icaros sung to us. My anger took over and I began screaming, “You fuckin pussy, you allow women to walk over you? etc etc etc.” I shook uncontrollably, as if taken over and began to seriously beat my face and body with my fists. I started biting myself and hating how weak I’d been, after all I was a fuckin lion, how dare I be weak? I knocked 3 teeth out, but don’t worry, they were all mine. Of the 23 of us in the temple, I was the only one this was happening to. They told me later, it’s not a regular thing, it’s more my process. I was being shown what I was doing to myself internally while all the while having my ego revealed to me. I was being shown all the women that had hurt me, especially my mother, like a flushing out. The visuals here were fast and hard. Hurtful. Publio was coming over to me, worried and asking me to calm down, but by now I think I realized what was going on. When mother ayahuasca carries you away, you’re able to almost relax into the terror with a distinct knowledge that it’s all going to be ok, a sort of perception that makes sense to me now. There is this separate connection. I said to Publio, “Don’t worry, it’s my process, this is my cage, I’m a fuckin’ lion Publio, I’m a fucking lion!” And I was. Whether it was the fact that I’m a Leo and I know the lion connection or whatever, I’d become a human lion, beautiful, glistening, golden, powerful. Down on my haunches, growling, snarling, snapping at the air. I was smelling everyone and taking my power back.
Then I remembered a vision I’d had a couple of nights earlier. I was holding my unborn son, Zain, and in a flash it hit me, that was you Ade. That was the inner child you came here to find. You expected to find a 7 year old boy, but this was a beautiful Gollum, silver, unborn baby with blue black holes for eyes, eyes that had the cosmos beyond them. I stripped myself naked and sat there nursing myself like a mad man. I just couldn’t bring the vision back. “Why show me this now? Why spoil it?” I thought and I began to aggressively try to go inside myself and fetch him. I felt it was absolutely possible to enter into myself, that I had been completely separated from mind. It was almost controllable, but completely frustrating. I was alternately shouting, then whispering and at one point I let out a roar out that sounded like it came from another world and was so loud JJ the facilitator heard it from 1 km away.
Within seconds, I was being schooled again by that inner voice. “You can’t swear at a baby, Ade. You can’t talk to yourself like that anymore. It’s what’s going to kill you. This part of you was locked away in the womb. You’ve now lived half a life and this half of you is almost dead. Be nice, be gentle.” Then I was in my arms, me as a baby. I cried, wept mightily and danced with me. It was so special, I’m crying now as I write this. It was a glorious merging of myself. I was dancing in front of the entire Moloka, as naked as the day I was born. I’d had terrible body complex issues all my life but now, nah, no more. This was a freedom like I’d never thought could exist. Utter and complete abandon.
At certain points I would see someone that had hurt us/me and they would simply disappear. My vision would get difficult and I was being taught that they could not hurt me anymore. It’s gone, it’s done. It was like I shut a door on all of my past. I was standing on my 2 foot by 6 foot by 2 inch thick mattress, acting out my entire life, past, present and future, and it went dark and closed. I looked the other way and there was a complete garden of hallucinations. I went in and I was seduced by the most beautiful, green, big cats, they just were all over me. Then I was in a golden temple, swirling with colours I’ve never seen before. Jesus was there, along with every god and myth I had ever known, they were in my heart, my stomach… it was a complete destruction of conscious reality. I was exploding into crystalline shards with a myriad of what I can only call colours, but I have no words to do them justice. It was so loud and yer silent, so big and yet small, all at once: duality had disappeared. I was one with everyone, everything and I knew I’d never be the same again. I collapsed on my matt, exhausted, the reverie had ended but I had yet to return. “Laura is waiting to put you back together, Adrian,” someone said. I knelt in front of this beautiful goddess and she sang the most powerful Icaro. I was beating a drumbeat on the floor and she joined me. This wasn’t practice but we were both in it, together, eternal in that moment. I was a big cat, exerting his power over the woman in front of me. She got it. She felt safe. I placed my ear less than 2 centimeters from her mouth at times, so I could absorb every note of her song into my depths. I found my arms outstretched involuntarily and two small lights appeared in each hand. As I tried to close my hands together the lights got brighter and it was the hardest physical thing I’d ever had to do. But on I pushed and knew that by closing my hands I would complete the merging. As dramatic and insane as it sounds, it made perfect sense to me in that moment and that’s all that mattered. I closed my hands, screaming “MERGE!” and collapsed. I was able to lift my head and I saw the a giant and incredibly beautiful lion’s head, its mouth open with rings of light disappearing down its throat and a shadow figure with something under its arm standing in the mouth and looking back at me. The shadow turned, walked into the mouth and it ended. Exhausted and spent, I lay there naked. Urias, the head shaman, came and soaked me with liquor from his mouth, spitting it on me as he had during the ceremony. This was a seal from him. It felt that way. As I drifted into sleep, all I remember thinking was “I knew it would work,” over and over like a mantra.
I blasted off that night. I was no longer me. I was no longer anything but a kaleidoscope of colours, explosions of light with an overwhelming connection to spirit. It was silence, but deafening, a sensory experience without my senses. I felt it then and even now I still feel connected to a oneness that we all have together, a oneness separated from us by a huge bridge of the pain and so few of us realize it. Every ayahausca ceremony gave me a three part experience: the exposure of my ego, a gentle, silent, painful place to view it and almost always, a healing euphoric end.
My life since (only 8 months ago) has been a revelation. The dynamic with my wife and kids has been transformed. We talk, communicate, love deeply and have so much more collective strength. We had a challenge to respond to in November, when we discovered that Zain was trisomy-21 baby. Our response, as a family unit and individually, has been profoundly different from how it would have been pre-Peru. I see that self-love is the key if you want to bring about any change in the world. Self-love is the first step to change our environment.
The way I connect with my clients at the dispensary, especially those suffering with mental issues, has been amazing and the there seems to be a conscious community forming. People really are searching. I get paid to do what I love, it is my bliss. We are about to launch a podcast on consciousness and have events in the city planned. It is an exciting time.
The hardest part of the journey so far has been the integration with my life. Coming to terms with my “mutant” state. We have left the church behind, its life, its concepts, its ways of teaching and, if I had to say, its Gnosis. When my veil was taken away it became clear that the Church had collectively messed it up. I had been part of an organisation that now thinks I’m fucked, a backslider, hell-bound, seven times worse than when I started. That attitiude has not embittered me, I’m just sad for the blindness I had and for the many friends or mine that remain blind, trapped and hypnotised by it all. It seems so obvious to me now. I love the myth and I can’t reject the construct, but our lives seem to be destined to do some small thing to begin to lift that veil. I still use psychedelics, only from nature and sensibly, I like to think. I microdose with psilocybin in a stack format and will return to ayahuasca again, possibly in the next month or two in a ceremonial setting. Now, I try to have an intention when approaching any psychedelic and I find it very important for me to focus on that. It’s something I work up to and I’m constantly continuing my research. Maintaining my relationship with my therapist has been a great decision, not just for these issues, but because it provides a type of framework for the work we do with patients at the dispensary and guides how we handle their issues and their worst fears. Therapy is good and brave.
I perceive a time of awakening is coming. The one thing psychedelics showed me is that just being alive is the most powerful trip already. As Alan Watts put it, “Am I a psychotic pretending to be sane?” With all our preaching, wrangling, wars, business and our profound amnesia as a species, not one of us really knows what’s going on. But I know, for the first time in this life that I’m enjoying the great dance of the universe. As much as I’d love to move to the forest with my family and never come out, I feel a purpose here. I want to be part of something great, something powerful. For that, I will forever be indebted to the indigenous people of the Shipibo tribe, the Amazon and the entirety of South America for the work they do and the love they show us, despite our horrible history. They are a forgiving people. IRAKU!
Lastly, thank you for reading this to the end. x
Follow Adrian on instagram @the_upper_shroom
Doors of Perception
Written by Aldous Huxley.
Published in 1954.
Huxley discusses his experience taking mescaline in 1953.
1—”To be shaken out of the ruts of ordinary perception, to be shown for a few timeless hours the outer and the inner world, not as they appear to an animal obsessed with survival or to a human being obsessed with words and notions, but as they are apprehended, directly and unconditionally, by Mind at Large – this is an experience of inestimable value to everyone and especially to the intellectual.”
2— “The mind was primarily concerned, not with measures and locations, but with being and meaning.”
3—“But the reasonably healthy person knows in advance that, so far as he is concerned, mescalin is completely innocuous, that its effects will pass off after eight or ten hours, leaving no hangover and consequently no craving for a renewal of the dose.”
4— “But the man who comes back through the Door in the Wall will never be quite the same as the man who went out. He will be wiser but less cocksure, happier but less self-satisfied, humbler in acknowledging his ignorance yet better equipped to understand the relationship of words to things, of systematic reasoning to the unfathomable Mystery which it tries, forever vainly, to comprehend.”
5—Our goal is to discover that we have always been where we ought to be. Unhappily we make the task exceedingly difficult for ourselves.”
6—“A moment later a clump of Red Hot Pokers, in full bloom, had exploded into my field of vision. So passionately alive that they seemed to be standing on the very brink of utterance.”
7—“Other persons discover a world of visionary beauty. To others again is revealed the glory, the infinite value and meaningfulness of naked existence, of the given, un-conceptualized event. In the final stage of ego-less-ness there is an “obscure knowledge” that All is in all – that All is actually each.”
8—“What the rest of us see only under the influence of mescalin, the artist is congenitally equipped to see all the time.”
9—“The schizophrenic is like a man permanently under the influence of mescalin.”
10—“Most visualizers are transformed by mescalin into visionaries. Some of them – and they are Perhaps more numerous than is generally supposed – require no transformation; they are visionaries all the time.”
11—“Along with the happily transfigured majority of mescalin takers there is a minority that finds in the drug only hell or purgatory.”
12— “Most men and women lead lives at the worst so painful, at the best so monotonous, poor and limited that the urge to escape, the longing to transcend themselves if only for a few moments, is and has always been one of the principal appetites of the soul.”
13— “Professor J. S. Slotkin, one of the very few white men ever to have participated in the rites of a Peyotist congregation, says of his fellow worshipers that they are “certainly not stupefied or drunk…. They never get out of rhythm or fumble their words, as a drunken or stupefied man would do…. They are all quiet, courteous and considerate of one another. I have never been in any white man’s house of worship where there is either so much religious feeling or decorum.”
14—“How many philosophers, how many theologians, how many professional educators have had the curiosity to open this Door in the Wall? The answer, for all practical purposes, is, None.”
15—“Words are uttered, but fail to enlighten. The things and events to which the symbols refer belong to mutually exclusive realms of experience.”
16— “What is important is less the reason for the experience than the experience itself.”
17— “It has been a retreat from the outward Datum into the personal subconscious, into a mental world more squalid and more tightly closed than even the world of conscious personality.”
18—“For the moment, mescalin had delivered me “e world of selves, of time, of moral judgments and utilitarian considerations, the world (and it was this aspect of human life which I wished, above all else, to forget) of self-assertion, of cocksureness, of overvalued words and idolatrously worshiped notions.”
19—“This is how one ought to see,” I repeated yet again. And I might have added,’ ‘These are the sort of things one ought to look at.” Things without pretensions, satisfied to be merely themselves, sufficient in their Suchness, not acting a part, not trying, insanely, to go it alone, in isolation from the Dharma-Body, in Luciferian defiance of the grace of god.”The nearest approach to this,” I said, “would be a Vermeer.”
20—“For the moment that interfering neurotic who, in waking hours, tries to run the show, was blessedly out of the way.”
21—“All that the conscious ego can do is to formulate wishes, which are then carried out by forces which it controls very little and understands not at all.”
22—“In the intervals between his revelations the mescalin taker is apt to feel that, though in one way everything is supremely as it should be, in another there is something wrong.”
23—“I took down my copy of Evans-Wentz’s edition of The Tibetan Book of the Dead, and opened at random:
“O nobly born, let not thy mind be distracted.” That was the problem – to remain undistracted. Undistracted by the memory of past sins, by imagined pleasure, by the bitter aftertaste of old wrongs and humiliations, by all the fears and hates and cravings that ordinarily eclipse the Light…
… What those Buddhist monks did for the dying and the dead, might not the modern psychiatrist do for the insane? Let there be a voice to assure them, by day and even while they are asleep, that in spite of all the terror, all the bewilderment and confusion, the ultimate Reality remains unshakably itself and is of the same substance as the inner light of even the most cruelly tormented mind.”
24—“But we can easily become the victims as well as the beneficiaries of these systems…
We must learn how to handle words effectively; but at the same time we must preserve and, if necessary, intensify our ability to look at the world directly and not through that half opaque medium of concepts, which distorts every given fact into the all too familiar likeness of some generic label or explanatory abstraction…
Literary or scientific, liberal or specialist, all our education is predominantly verbal and therefore fails to accomplish what it is supposed to do.”
25—“The universal and ever-present urge to self- transcendence is not to be abolished by slamming the currently popular Doors in the Wall. The only reasonable policy is to open other, better doors in the hope of inducing men and women to exchange their old bad habits for new and less harmful ones.”
26—“A man under the influence of mescalin quietly minds his own business. Moreover, the business he minds is an experience of the most enlightening kind, which does not have to be paid for (and this is surely important) by a compensatory hangover.”
27—“For myself, on this memorable May morning, I could only be grateful for an experience which had shown me, more clearly than I had ever seen it before, the true nature of the challenge and the completely liberating response.”
28—“The contemplative whose perception has been cleansed does not have to stay in his room. He can go about his business, so completely satisfied to see and be a part of the divine Order of Things that he will never even be tempted to indulge in what Traherne called “the dirty Devices of the world.”
29—“Today the percept had swallowed up the concept. I was so completely absorbed in looking, so thunderstruck by what I actually saw, that I could not be aware of anything else.”
30—“When we feel ourselves to be sole heirs of the universe, when “the sea flows in our veins … and the stars are our jewels,” when all things are perceived as infinite and holy, what motive can we have for covetousness or self-assertion, for the pursuit of power or the drearier forms of pleasure?”
31—”We see, then, that Christianity and alcohol do not and cannot mix. Christianity and mescalin seem to be much more compatible.”
32—“If you started in the wrong way,” I said in answer to the investigator’s questions, “everything that happened would be a proof of the conspiracy against you. It would all be self-validating, You couldn’t draw a breath without knowing it was part of the plot.” “So you think you know where madness lies?”
My answer was a convinced and heartfelt, “Yes.”
“And you couldn’t control it?”
“No I couldn’t control it. If one began with fear and hate as the major premise, one would have to go on to the conclusion.” “Would you be able,” my wife asked, “to fix your attention on what The Tibetan Book of The Dead calls the Clear Light?” I was doubtful.
“Would it keep the evil away, if you could hold it? Or would you not be able to hold it?”
I considered the question for some time. “Perhaps,” I answered at last, “perhaps I could – but only if there were somebody there to tell me about the Clear Light. One couldn’t do it by oneself. That’s the point, I suppose, of the Tibetan ritual – someone sitting there all the time and telling you what’s what.”
33—“An hour later, with ten more miles and the visit to the World’s Biggest Drug Store safely behind us, we were back at home, and I had returned to that reassuring but profoundly unsatisfactory state known as “being in one’s right mind.”
But there’s so much talk about psychedelics these days it can get confusing.
The constant negative societal news doesn’t help either..
-and much more
There are different strands of shrooms, and since they are mostly illegal, there’s not many ways to tell if some shrooms will be more potent than others, so to be safe I encourage starting with a lower dose, like 1.5 grams.
My first time tripping I took 1.75 grams, and then after a few hours ate another 1.75 grams. This was in 2010, and one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. I will never forget this day.
(—Reflecting on this experience, I think one thing that helped enhance my trip was that I was a runner on my college’s track team, so I was in really great physical shape…
There are numerous impacting factors like dosage.
I’m sure physical health is one too.)