It's been almost two months since my "
brush with ego death."
Tripped once since then in a festival setting, but that was 3 weeks ago. Tolerance should have been approaching fresh.
The ego death experience from June was unsettling, but .... but ... but it was my reaction to it that ****ed with me. The fear was unexpected. Why? Where had it come from? My panic troubled me. I was ashamed of my reaction.
This morning I consumed 30 mcg of 4-Aco and 60 mg of LSD. My 43rd birthday was two days ago. I just read Fadiman's "The Psychadelic Explorer's Guide."
Yesterday, preparing, I wrote some notes for myself, ideas. Reminders. On the back of library catalog cards, I typed:
"Accept what comes. Observe."
"Allow the energy to radiate."
"This has all happened before."
"You are complete and enough. Your worry is not serving you."
"Let go."
Two other cards were longer.
"I want to feel less attachment -- to this body, idea of myself; everything."
"I want to accept that it is not possible to be alone because all beings are the same energy."
Shortly after consuming the drugs, I edited the last two cards. Maybe 15 minutes after. I scratched out the "I want" and made the sentences directives.
"Accept that it is not possible to be alone because all beings are the same energy."
I started out doing some yoga. Stretching, moving, breathing, being present. Once I could feel things starting to happen, I moved pretty quickly to the bed. I spent almost no time outside in nature, during the heavy part of the trip. This was very much intended to be an internal experience---maybe not picking up where I left off, but I wanted to see again what there was to see.
So it's happening. I can feel the wall break down between thinking the thoughts and the thoughts. They're there. I observe.
Now there is a voice. Not sound, but ... words, internally. The are very much like the words I wrote down. Where do they come from?
Here is, early on, probably THE big takeaway from this trip.
I listen to the voice, the words. I accept that they are distinct from Sapo. They are distinct and they are legitimate. They are coming from my mind, but they are not coming from "Sapo."
I've heard these words before. I have doubted them. Doubted. Still do. The voice says the things I know are true, the things I say but don't know if I believe, even if I know they are true.
How can you know something is true, but not believe it?
Some time passes, and I look at the card.
"Accept that it is not possible to be alone because all beings are the same energy."
All beings are the same energy. I know this is true. But do I believe it?
How to describe the leap which happens?
"You are complete and enough."
Am I? What does that mean? Am I enough? I wrote the words. Are they true? Am I enough?
Oh the joy, the absurdity. Does the voice say it? Or just show me?
For a moment I glimpse it--all beings, the same energy. The same love. That's all we are. The energy.
Consciousness is a trick. A cruel miracle.
I sob. Sapo sobs. Do I? Where am I?
Sapo sobs a half cry but there is more and ... do I encourage Sapo? Who is I? ... Sapo is encouraged to let out more and there is heaving and a gasp of emotion and tears and another sob.
That is happening over there, now. Sapo is there, and there is compassion for him. He is ... young? Exuberant? Naive?
Now the conversation continues. Or is it a conversation? How many voices? One, I think.
That's the trick. The beauty and terribleness of consciousness. You spend your life asking, wondering, worrying, "Am I enough?"
The question is a glorious, gaping wound that exposes all.
An absurd question.
You are enough--always--not because you are, but because you're not.
Your consciousness, human consciousness, allows you to mindfully experience love. Which is wonderful. But it also keeps you from seeing that you ARE the love. The question of being "enough" is a trick of consciousness.
Imagine being overjoyed at finding a cup of water. Imagine making camp by the banks of a stream. Living atop a massive reservoir. .... all of these metaphors miss the point. You are the water.
The thing Sapo struggles to find and hold is the very thing he is.
Is there any wonder he is exhausted?
Those were the realizations from my trip. Kind of told, as they happened.
Sapo was still over "there" in some ways. Recovering. A good cry can do that. But things were still happening. ... I was being shown the energy, the love, the access.
I could dip back in and feel it--physical vibrations. But not as intense as in previous trips. I was observing it this time, but as if I was being guided. As if the voice brought me to the internal river to bathe in the energy, and when it was too much I would step out, and then dip back in, as I wanted, to experience it.
Hours passed ... I biked into town, I wanted to be around people and to eat, but I was mostly quiet and observing.
So here I am now. 12 hours since starting the trip.
I do not feel euphoric.
I do not feel enlightened.
I feel heavy.
The voice I heard, which is mine and not mine, is real. The love is there. The love is always there, but so much of our perception makes accessing it difficult. This seems cruel.
Sapo ... all of us, but I only know him ... he has so many scars and filters that keep him from directly accessing that energy that he Is. On the one hand, I feel reassurance--it's there and it can't ever not be there. But there is no easy way to the source.
Last edited by ElSapo; 08-10-2019 at 09:59 PM.