Soma with Krishna

The more I write about these experiences, the more I understand word’s limits in trying to capture the feelings that fill the eight or so hours the fungus metabolizes. Clich├ęs will be hard to avoid. They will appear. Every adventure feels as if it is the most significant one yet. This one is no different. Lets see how I fair trying to capture the memories, locking them in words, and chaining them to the page.

Paige had made cookies. Dac had started his journey a few hours ago with his love, Ashley, followed an hour or so behind. Paige had just ingested her sacred plant. About forty-five minutes later Krishna and myself chomped down on our fungal sprinkled chocolate chip treats. All cosmonauts where accounted for. 

Setting the setting as the mantra mandates; Carl Sagan was the narrator. Youtube provided The Pale Blue Dot, The Sagan Series Part 1, The Most Fascinating Fact and It is Always Now for the hour it took for the mushrooms to start taking effect. 

Krishna and I ended up on the driveway looking at the night sky. There weren’t many stars visible but there was a bright half moon with enough clouds between our just recently dilated eyes and that reflecting rock to allow for visual tricks to start. 

The first alteration to my visual perception I noticed was the view of the sky. It looked larger. It seemed panoramic. I was like seeing through a kind of wide fish lens. It was so beautiful. Also, everything appeared as if it was in 1080 pixels as oppose to the 720 of sobriety.

Still sprawled on the driveway I looked at the goddess to my right and saw a faint image behind her appearing to hide itself in the concrete. I knew this was the drug. I was excited. Other psychonauts talk about seeing hieroglyphics or Incan or Egyptian symbols on surfaces. This wasn’t what I saw. At first the pattern was faint but after a little concentration on the driveway the images developed in sharpness. It was an intricate and complex pattern. It didn’t appear to be any language. It reminded me of patterns I saw on my first DMT trip. It reminded me of Alex Grey.

It reminded me how much I love this plant.

Krishna and I then felt compelled to do yoga. After failed poses, laughs, successful poses, laughs, and tear inducing laughter, we were dancing in the kitchen. I had never taken a psychedelic with a romantic partner. I was enjoying it.

We eventually found ourselves in the garage. Paige, Ashley, Dacorey, Krishna, and myself. I had never mixed the mushrooms with any other drug. Tonight would be different. As the herb made itself around our tribe a few times…

Shit. Got. Real.

I couldn’t speak. My consciousness had left the room. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling. As the consciousnesses around me made noises with the part of their flesh sacs we call mouths, the ceiling would morph and change into subtle symbols. A deeper part of me was communicating with the shallower me that operated my flesh sac on a daily basis. This game, where the deeper part of me created symbols on the ceiling for my shallower part to decipher went on for maybe twenty minutes. The truths I can recall from this experience are

 1) We still construct our social lives as our ancestors did, as tribes. Many people have vast tribes due to social media but they lack real connections. The idea that 2 parents raise 3 children and all of them spend the majority of their time in a little box with air conditioning and television isn’t ideal for your social circuitry.  

I was happy with my current tribe. 

2) The subconscious is real. I’ve learned about this concept for years. I believed it. This night, I felt it. It felt like God. It may have been God. I felt, for maybe three minutes, what I would call a religious experience only because I feel that will best convey the feeling to other readers. I felt like I was being given a universal truth. The truth was that the subconscious is real: that there is a universal, collective, subconscious. I felt the experience tell me that that was all I was going to be given at that moment so return to the physical bodies around you. Return to your tribe. 

I did return. Me and Krishna retired to my room. Once we got into the boarders of my room and it was only our two consciousnesses interacting, the experience ascended to a level of psychedelictry I had never been before. 

A common negative loop I go to when particularly high on weed is my body feeling misaligned. I’ve had surgery on my right rotator cuff and multiple back injuries. I believe that I can feel the muscular and connective tissue issues and I try to fix them. I started dancing in a way I felt would help my body. Without having to speak, Krishna began moving with me. Whenever I’d lose my balance she’d be in the exact place she’d need to be to help me back to balance. 

I kept calling life a dance.

An interesting note about this part of the night is when I’d start faltering in my movements; Krishna--because she needed to be—became a strong, stern teacher. She’s much younger than I, but in these moments she felt, and for all purposes was, much older, wiser, and more positive than I. 

We were so fucking connected at some points. The most connected my consciousness has ever been to another. All I care to write about this part of the trip is she saw me at my most vulnerable and met it without judgment and returned my negativity and paranoia with love, compassion, and patience.

Just as I had my moments of weakness, she did too. She had met my insecurity and suffering with love, and so I attempted to do the same for her. This culminated in us laying in bed, holding a gaze for what felt like at least two hours, exchanging raw thoughts. I could see The Void in her eyes, the place that is the context for all creation, and it was. We cried for each other’s suffering. Smiled at our ‘us.’ And eventually became sober enough to consume the processed garbage that is Subway. 

Once fueled. We made love. 

Best trip yet. 

Still Lost.

I feel a little lost in life. 

I know its not a unique perspective. The one where the economic promises that enticed our parents and their parents simply don't allure us. The promise that if we work hard, likely at a spiritually unfulfilling position, we will be able to afford a home -- pending the grace of a morally sound loan lender. And with this new home and debt, we will have a place to raise a family, and everyone wants to raise a family.

I'm even less fit to be a parent then I am to be a meal preparer. Why is it that there are more societal  requirements to allow an 18 year-old to make someone a McDouble then it is for that same 18 year old to summon a soul from nonexistence? I'm talking about fucking. I'm talking about that thing scientists claim genes use our flesh sacs for (1). I'm talking about procreation.

We do not give enough attention to the idea. The responsibility of raising a child is monumental. Especially now. We are living in a world that is changing, growing in complexity, at a quicker rate than any recorded time in history. We don't have brains equipped to grasp the width of depth of useful, even common, knowledge. More content is being created in 2 days than what existed throughout all of mankind since recorded history up to 2003 (2).

What chance does your child have, spending hours every day being raised by an blue screen, to understand our world? We've got social taboos for little Jimmy to memorize. We have an arbitrary economic system Daisy better understand quickly if she doesn't have nice legs and a Freudian fascination with lollipops.

I used to think my ultimate goal was to be a good father. A part of me still wants that, but what if being a good father is choosing to not ever become a father? No over emotionality here. Pragmatically, is this a world that needs a partial genetic copy of me? A partial genetic copy that will absorb all my bias and bigotry and stupidity? And my debt. Or can the planet use a generation of mankind choosing to hold off on fucking copying themselves. Or is the earth going to be okay, and its us who could really use a generation to not reproduce. (3)

Most of us don't grow spiritually beyond 18. We still completely identify with the ego as self. We still take offense. We are emotional children. We want and expect. We get upset when reality doesn't meet our expectations. We are petty. We, etrophy ridden material bags, waste priceless and finite time on saying rude shit about other flesh bodies. The things we say about other people that we intend to be insulting reveal our own pettiness, the narrowness of our perspectives, as quickly as genuinely shouting nigger or sneering faggot. We have no moral high ground. We are all equal, standing zombified on The Plain of No Self-Awareness. To be fair, some are passed-out-drunk.

If you have a child, this is not an attack. It is only a stream-of-consciousness. In my infrequent moments of self-awareness I wouldn't judge you. Thats genuine. I do hope that you selflessly give yourself to the task of raising this child as best you can. I mean, the data shows you only need to be on your best performance those first 6 years (4). Its funny how sound logic, statistics, and behaviorism can proclaim that last sentence with seriousness and ladened positive intentions.

I'm doing too much telling. We are too prideful to be told. We want to be shown.

1) In Richard Dawkins The Selfish Gene, he argues that humans are a byproduct of the natural compulsion of genes to reproduce. Genes are the puppet masters and we are the puppets.

2) Eric Schmidt wrote an article on this idea. Information may be defined vaguely in his article. I don't know how useful my Flappy Bird High Score is, but that counts as information. Not quite Ulysses or Finnegan's Wake.

3) "A child born in the United States will create thirteen times as much ecological damage over the course of his or her lifetime than a child born in Brazil"

4) For a shot of science on the issue of raising children, check out this infographic


I saw Sirius.
I wonder if I should take him serious,
Robert Anton Wilson I mean.
A cosmic joker.
An occupation I'd love to have...
Sirius is serious.
The star of The Ancients.
It's significance
The synchronicity  
The feeling of a conspiracy 
that the entire universe is
waiting for me to say "I'm ready"
and my dreams will begin to blossom. 

Well, I am ready. 
I know there is no perfect time to start
and now is all there is
and now I have my chance
to start living life.

The goal know,
remember this