DOSE:

smoked

DMT

(powder / crystals)

BODY WEIGHT:

120 lb

I am having my 19th nervous breakdown; I am doing fine. Memories surface of things that never can have happened, but did. Yesterday, I couldn't remember; today I can't forget. Those kind of things. A perspective that tends to be annihilating, if it's not to be deranging. Well, so far at least, I am not demented. I am annihilated. Certain aspects of the self accept no third option: either madness, or death. So what's left?
Apprehending new realities. At this point all steps are severe. I feel a hundred feet tall. I feel like a baby, suffused in wonder, and in awe-full fear. Paranoid-aware. But aware of what? For one thing: that I will never be alone again, for Eternity, in Infinity. These things exist, these things are real. I have always known it. We are at the mercy of the sky.

When I first smoked the pipe, I said 'No time like the present,' lit and inhaled deeply. Kept on inhaling until I could see the DMT was ash. I thought, I could have smoked more. Then it hit.

I was sure I had done something wrong, that I was screwing up. By thinking at all I was fighting the experience. Yet my resistance was futile

So petty and useless indeed that this only seemed to occupy a matter of seconds. I cannot say. All I recall is the feeling of sinking into nothingness as my mind collapsed and I clung to this thought: that I was doing something wrong.? Mitch was sat by my side and had handed me the pipe. He says I was screaming there for a time, then later there was some weeping. I don?t recall any of this; all I can recall is something taking me over. It was an ambush, no other word for it. My senses were flooded by light; abducted, hence the missing time. Meanwhile my body was thrashing and screaming, stuck in the hot seat. According to Mitch I held the smoke in my lungs an impossibly long time. He was sure that I must have exhaled it when I let out an enormous cloud of smoke, enveloping Mitch and giving him his own DMT hit. That point, he knew I was gone. He says he told me, 'A warrior never screams,' and this may have calmed me some. My screaming scared one of the cats away.

All I recall was the feeling of being processed-of passing through some sort of ordeal in which I wrestled with my conscience; indirectly, it seems, certain Forces or Intelligences were negotiating or debating my passage, or not, to the next levels. It seems to me not surprising if this ?process? or trial was of the most terrifying nature, hence the screaming. But that is all I recall for now, of that part of the journey, since I do not recall my screaming.

Now today is Sunday, I lie in bed, cock crows, crows chirrup and gurgle. Church service to commence shortly. I will eat breakfast, and then? Sleep, or rise? Venture forth unto the new day with this vast and giddying new responsibility, this power? I am whelmed, under and over and inside out. I have gone through the ringer well and truly this time. Ambushed by the Spirit. Taken to task, beholden. Most difficult to describe, if not impossible; it behooves me to try. My trials, my ordeals, all self-inflicted, began with this mere thought, about the pipe, that I had failed to light it properly, or put it down, or something, it really isn?t important. What counted was the feeling, the intent behind the thought, which was absolute despair at screwing up this tiny, tiny point (maybe even as tiny as putting the pipe down without dropping it). And of course the perfect irony of it all is that it was the thought alone that was 'screwing things up,' or trying to; and it made little difference what the thought was. But of course, even if all thought is now useless, there is still a world of difference between a positive thought and a negative one. So this negative thought progressed into a whirlwind of panic and despair in which I was apparently attempting to fit what was happening to me into rational comprehension. I have a visual now somewhere in here, and that is of total whiteness, upon which are superimposed thinly sketched squares. These boxes are my mind's desperate attempt to grapple with the experience (of the whiteness, which is internal silence) but the boxes (rational thought) are only distorting the silence, making it useless and tormenting. It may be during this period that I first become dimly aware of being ?on trial.? I admit this is a presumption on my part, a somewhat arrogant or self-centered reading of a totally abstract process (but then process = trial, n'est pas?). I have absolutely zero recall of anything approaching living entities, much less a court of law or even place at all at this time. Since I was not in my body it follows that I was not undergoing a sense-impression type experience at all. But something was happening; I was undergoing something. And this something involved a testing, a confronting of error in my life, and a purging of it. It was as if the thoughts and deeds of my soul were being weighed, one by one, before me, and I was forced to look at each one of them in turn. All this is a terrible burden; it is holding me back, holding me in despair. But then I am allowed, or inspired, to cast it away. Hence it's not question of being judged, much less punished, but more of being unburdened, purified.

This soul-purging constituted the majority of the ten-minute DMT experience, though it seems to me more like seconds now, so intensely condensed is this data in my conscious mind. The reality of course is that it was a timeless period that took place during a ten-minute DMT smoking experience sat in Mitch's medicine chair. It would have been interesting to have taped myself. As it is I have only Mitch?s word for it; Mitch as ever tends to focus on the negative, so far as my performance goes; that?s just part of the deal between us. But he says I screamed a little while, then a lot of moaning, maybe crying, a little cursing. All I know is it began with despair and ended with euphoria, so I can only assume that there was a fairly steady progression from the one to the other, so far as my vocalizations went. On the inner plain, this process, or trial, led through a seemingly countless series of stages. It is tempting again to image myself, the monad (nomad) soul, passing up the chain of command, slipping by the Archons, the Lords of Death, like a pinball up the heirarchy of planets. In fact, I have no doubt this is what occurred, or something of this nature. Yet again I have no sense impression to support the idea of such a journey. What I definitely experienced was that certain 'harmonics' of consciousness, soul, energy (positions of the assemblage point in the energy body), were being sounded. It was like the symphony of a single human soul, played out on the heavenly bodies. Pinball. At the same time, it was as if my consciousness, the very quick of me, the fire of my soul, was being tuned to new wavelengths, bands of awareness spreading out, like harmonics on a scale, ripples of a lake, threads of a giant web. I became conscious of everything. Every thing. What began as a tormentuous ordeal gave way to a paroxysm of delight, both sensual and spiritual, seemingly eternal. On the very edge of Infinity, I leapt to my feet and let out a cry of triumph. It was at this moment that I became aware of my body again.
It was all over so fast that the first thing I could ask Mitch was-with great urgency and excitement-'Did I smoke it??'

Ridiculous as it seems, this was the first thing I needed to know. I was salvaging my sanity by linking right back up with the last conscious thought I'd had before the Universe took over (which was that somehow I had screwed up and failed to smoke the stuff). Mitch reassured me that I had indeed smoked it and I growled that I better lie down, went and did so. My every motion, word, and gesture felt like Mitch; it was like I was Mitch, even though I was also mostly certainly, wholly as never before, myself.
I lay down once I found the bed and closed my eyes. I could see a sort of wall of flesh, a vast, unthinkably huge vista. All I could really come up with to describe it was, 'Big'; it was so big that this seemed the only thing about it that counted. I gazed at the wall (and a smaller, squarish object at the bottom edge of the vision, maybe a door, or perhaps a living thing). My thoughts were clear, but I wasn't thinking of anything except that I expected to see 'entities.' After a minute or two it was clear that besides that freakish wall, the visions were over. I asked Mitch if the room had exploded. 'Something like that,' he said. I also said something about needing to smoke more, an incredible statement considering that half an hour later I was deciding I need never smoke the stuff again. I got up and paced the room briefly, saying 'No entities.'

Mitch was by now getting ready to smoke himself, having originally thought I would smoke alone (as the guinea pig of this new batch, bought in the US on full moon Friday 13th). Seeing this, I went down to the firepit, lay on the grass, and looked at the stars. The experience reverberated around me, while up at the house I could hear Mitch saying 'Hang on,' over and over and over; a little later I could hear him gurgling and groaning. For me this was the aftermath already, yet the experience was still going on somehow; I had one foot still in the Beyond. During was-there are no words for during. It could have been a single second or a thousand years. Wipe out. Instant, total, complete, final. The miracle is that I came back at all. In ten minutes, 33 years of living were reduced to a heartbeat, the wink of an eye. All was scattered and dispersed into the blinding light of the Eye.

Image

And the vision which was timeless

The resonating chimes or aria of this 'soul,' which was I, reverberating through infinite space, centered in a glowing golden orange orb that was as it were the pupil of the Eye, that filled the space where the sky had been. All these impressions are most tentative, for this was not a visual experience but was far, far beyond mere visuals, as far as vision is beyond blindness. Around this glowing orb 'appeared' as it were a number of smaller shapes. I have since imagined them to be globes or spheres of whiteness, simply because this best fits. This vision also coincides with an earlier (also non-visual) impression that I underwent on a previous DMT trip, when I had the sense of being inside a white sphere surrounded by smaller orange shapes (the colors appear to have been reversed). I had thought at the time that this vision (which I opened my eyes too quickly to really undergo) could quite easily have been interpreted (by the senses) as a sort of 'abduction scenario.' But all my earlier DMT experiences were really little more than a warm-up for this last, total abduction scenario.
To indulge in a little interpretation of my own: the vision of the sun-like sphere surrounded by smaller shapes suggests the idea of the living Sun-God with its hosts of angels gathered around it. Beyond this it also suggests the flower of life image (a sphere surrounded by twelve smaller spheres) which in turn is reflected in the insemination process, when (according to this source) a number (often 13) of sperms gather around the ovum and vibrate the walls of the egg. This they do in order to create an opening through which the chosen sperm (chosen by the ovum itself for its size and shape) may then enter. Staring at this indescribable and annihilating vision of beauty and power, which was as it were a naked soul witnessing the infinite glory of God, I felt beyond all doubt that this was only the beginning. What I was gazing upon was a doorway into the next world; to enter into this world was to become a fourth dimensional being, a god, perhaps not eternal, but infinite-pure consciousness, beyond the merely human realm. So far as I experienced it at least, this step would lead to being born again, as a star.

(On the other hand, it struck me later that this vision might just as easily be seen as a memory of the moment of my own conception! This moment, when spirit enters into matter, coincides with the moment of the man's orgasm, when the sperm enters the woman's ovum. Is this, I now wonder, what it looked like to the unborn soul? What a memory! Yet all this is but ravings: it was both and neither of these impressions, since the one is but the reflection of the other.)

Perhaps I was experiencing both my death and my birth simultaneously? If conception is the entry of consciousness into physical existence, physical birth is a form of death also. Death itself is the release of consciousness from the bonds of matter, which is birth, and this is the DMT experience, in a nutshell. Experiencing directly-head on-this 'plateau' of consciousness, beyond death or prior to conception, is the 4th dimension. To all intents and purposes, it is Eternity, and this is our future, the only future there is.

It is the beginning of a whole new journey, which is where the ?inevitable intensity? comes in. Our future, as harmonized, fully resonating celestial bodies, monad souls, whathaveyou, will not be dull. This is the path of a star, the consciousness of the Sun, which is the light and life of our system, galaxy, finally of our Universe. Through this perception, however-which is still a human perspective-commences the next, nonhuman, celestial perception, by which I am given to understand that the Sun itself is as an Eye, looking on to a whole new Universe of wonders.

Is this the Life Eternal, the Kingdom of Heaven, where God resides? Is this God, at last? What is most breathtaking is not merely the size and the majesty of it all, but also the simplicity, the complete and total lack of struggle or effort involved in this: becoming one with perfect manifestation. Yet if one becomes one with oneness, then one no longer has the option of being the passive witness. No more TV dinners. One becomes in effect the driver in the driverless engine of love that is this Universe. Still, from this perspective, all curves are perfectly mapped already, and deviation is no longer required, or indeed even plausible. There is terror here also, of course. For the schizophrenic mind this is total loss of control; it is such as we can only perceive (in our schizo-based society) as the tearing away of our cherished free will (to say nothing of our personality). But I can no longer see it that way; I have graduated to a new perspective that reconciles these contradictions forever; that is how and why I am still sane.

'The art of the warrior is to balance the terror of being a man with the wonder of being a man.'
-Don Juan Matus

The concepts of Infinity and Eternity can only be understood as terrible truths that destroy every last vestige of our sanity and of our identity. All. What is included in Eternity and Infinity however is the Source of boundless Wonder, beyond the terror, and this is what pulls us through. Extreme of terror is wonder. Oblivion also holds terror, but is empty of wonder, because empty of extremes. The choice, then, is simplicity itself: extremity or bust. But it is not easy. I say without a shadow of doubt, now, that Infinity has us, body and soul, now and for always, eternally. And all our worries are over.

Condensed quasi-experiences. Lifetimes in the Zone

And Freedom came, like a Hurricane, tearing asunder the very last of the veils.

It is night time now. Church is revving up for service. Been tree climbing with Merlin, the cat, getting down to Earth at last, after last night/this morning during which I underwent repeated, repeated, experiences of falling asleep and entering instantly into DMT experience. What I experienced this time however was equivalent to a nuclear whiteout inside the skull: deafening explosion and blinding whiteness that creates total silence, explosive silence, cessation of all thoughts, the movement of the assemblage point to the place of silent knowledge, the world stops. I endure what seems like a single second of this before waking with a jolt and crying 'Jesus Christ,' looking down at my hands, to see that I was still in the physical. (Actually it?s more accurate to say that seeing my hands so astonished me that 'Jesus Christ!' was the only possible response.) Over and over this happened, until I could stand it no more, went for some granola, and read my Elvis biography for a while. After this, I presume, I was able to enter this state and stay asleep; at very least, I slept. I woke in the dawn hour from a dream of smoking DMT and being confronted with some jungle emerald green entity that flooded me with terror and wonder in just about equal (and balanced) parts.

These experiences have been continuing day after day, and not only in sleep either. It appears that I am in the process of adapting to the transition from third to fourth dimensional consciousness. I am learning to measure it, to map it, until some day, incredible as it seems, it will be as normal and stress free to me as wandering around my garden is now.

But make no mistake: for a time I was truly on the edge of losing it; most especially when 'memories from the left-side' began to seep through. I spent a truly deranging time in the bath tub, searching the deepest recesses of my mind, plucking at this thread of a secret life, watching to see if it would unravel. But it seemed my mind had to unravel first. The left brain feels it is collapsing to allow these fully formed, realer-than-real memories of the right brain to be accessed. And this movement of assemblage point (AP) IS like dying, it is every bit as terrifying (and wondrous) as the DMT experience. Apparently they go together: movement of AP to place of silent knowledge leads to freedom of AP to go into left-side memories, and so access the Other Self. All of this is deranging in the most total sense, which is why it is so essential to know one?s limits, to measure, with sobriety as much as courage, the mind?s capacity to unhinge itself and precipitate into the unknown, without getting lost there. The rational mind must be destroyed, willy nilly; and yet it is capable of fooling itself that it is retaining control unto the last. Hence it is not a destruction, but assimilation: the personal identity relinquishes its reality, but not its existence. It still comes back intact, with full awareness that, having been destroyed and then reformed, it has no independent reality at all. The tonal is flooded by the nagual, then recreated from the nagual. Hence all is nagual, the tonal is but a ruse. Its very lack of reality is what allows it to exist. And for existence itself to exist; for without this point of view, there is only the peace of the nagual, where nothing never happens.

So there I was, knees up in the bathtub staring at the black hole of consciousness that my mind had become, feeling the elastic pulling further and further back to accommodate this vastness, until I fet it must snap. Only then did I let go. The left-side memory that was tormenting me was doubly deranging, since on top of being a memory of something that never happened, it was also a profoundly morbid, dark, sleazy, and above all delirious memory. I cannot even write about it, for to do so would be to drag it further into the real. Merest glimpses of it were terrifying to me, in any case, and yet this is something I have longed and prayed for. It is all coming about at the same time, it is all interrelated. The Happening is in actual fact an Awakening, and once begun, cannot be checked without self-destructing. 'Hang on!' is ineed the only thing to say, at that point-besides 'Hallelujah!!'

All is in hand, we all know why we are here: To become what we are.
I am wide-awake, and the solution is staring me in the eye: life is so simple, and so assured. Beyond the visible appearance of what life consists of, behind the temporal phenomena, behind the masks, a burning intelligence, a fierce and uncompromising intent, an implacable will. Seeing such, one wonders what all the fuss was about. As God created the world, is not the outcome of the world assured? What sort of fools would invent a God that is fallible, a God we cannot even count on, in the end? All?s well. These dreams and visions have their rhyme and their reasons.
Now I finally have the knowledge I might have needed to state my case plainly-for the reality of God, and of everything else-I find I no longer care to state my case. Now I finally have something to testify to, I have no interest in doing so. You want to run with it, unravel the terrors and the wonders of the last few days, weeks, months? This is the stuff of legends. I rest assured my struggle goes recorded, if not by me. I feel every disembodied soul and entity, all the way up to the Gods, they are watching this spectacle, salivating with anticipation. I don't only feel it, I know it, I live it. I shall not disappoint. And I know also that the proof of all this is but a stone's throw away, a matter of years, perhaps, not of decades. I fear this.

A matter of hours and seconds that may be counted, as this miracle approaches, and I rush headlong to meet it, daunted and awed, hell yeah, and plain terrified at times, if the truth be known, but with growing clarity, sobriety, and aplomb. That's the joy of it, after all, to live a day-to-day apocalypse life, with a devil-may-care smile on your face. There is only one thing that bothers me now: the realization that there truly is no rest in sight. I think maybe when I can accept this-that the struggle goes on forever, to death and beyond-then maybe I can be at peace in the company of Gods.

Exp Year: 2001	ExpID: 4602
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Jan 15, 2001	Views: 58,620
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DMT (18) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Mystical Experiences (9), Difficult Experiences (5)