“I don’t like this,” I said after almost dying.
About two hours earlier, I had found myself in a room with a bunch of people wearing colored clothing clothing who talked a bunch of mystical bullshit. They compared 5-MeO-DMT to dimethyltryptamine – DMT, or the spirit molecule.
I’m a man of science with little patience for people who treat drugs as anything other than chemical substances that cause the body to undergo various physiological changes. If I inject testosterone into my deltoid, I’m not going to reach out and touch the Masculine forms of Plato and Michelangelo.
So if I smoke some 5-MeO-DMT, don’t fucking tell me that I’m about to “communicate with the divine,” or that I’m going to undergo “ego death.” Just let me take my drug in peace in quiet.
I thus went into the drug without any expectations. If anything, my expectations were premised on scorn. “These movement idiots are all the same. They need to make something seem larger than it is, as a way to give meaning to their own small lives.”
The smoke was harsh and metallic. It tasted like a lick from a Duracell 9 volt battery. Just as I was about to cough, I was gone.
Unlike with DMT, a person using 5-MeO-DMT isn’t supposed to see fractals. People on DMT come back with reports of conversations with aliens and gods. People who come from from 5-MeO-DMT come back with reports of…not much of anything.
When you fully commit to a 5-MeO-DMT trip, your ego dies. There is no “you” to observe and remember. There is no “you” to tell your story.
Your ego – another way to describe consciousness – is the self-knowledge that comes from knowing that you exist separate and apart from your material world. “I think therefore I am” is the ego. 5-MeO-DMT kills the “I.”
It’d be wrong to say I fell backwards. My body may have collapsed, but that was complete uninteresting.
My “soul” began moving at speeds that I cannot comprehend. It felt like my soul was moving through outer space.
As my soul ripped through the air, angelic-looking wings overtook my field of vision.
“I am dying.”
“No, I don’t want to die,” I kept repeating to myself. “I am not going to die.”
I was able to open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. The ceiling tiles started coming into focus, but I was still on my back, helpless.
I looked left and right. I knew I was in a room. But I did not feel present in my body.
I kept fighting to come back. I remembered a trick from lucid dreaming. If you want to take control of your dream, ground yourself by looking at your hands. Looking at your hands puts your consciousness in touch with its embodiment.
I kept staring at my arms until they seemed real, until I seemed real.
Finally able to sit up, I looked at my legs. My legs had not returned to me, or I to them.
What does it mean to say that your legs exist in two dimensions rather than three? What does it mean to say that your legs are as connected to the floor as they are to your body?
Finally able to reclaim my body, I ate a piece of fruit. No, that’s a lie.
When you put a piece of pineapple in your mouth, your senses process data. Your tongue feels the weight of the pineapple resting on it. Your tongue tastes the tartness. Your teeth press into the fibrous shell containing citrus-flavored water.
When I bit into the pineapple, the pineapple ate me as I much as I ate it. The pineapple and I merged into one.
Mumbo jumbo? Maybe. Or maybe some experiences truly do go beyond language as we understand it.
Although present in my body, my ego was still dead. I felt a deep sense of love for the people I sneered at only moments ago. “I wonder if any of these people need help? I wonder if there is anything I can do for them?”
After coming to my senses an hour or so later, I was again fulled with hate. I was a wolf. But that day has stayed with me for years.
When we no longer view ourselves as separate egos – when we destroy the distinction Us and Them – we open ourselves up to an infinite source of compassion and love.
The ego, a mystic will tell you, exists to protect ourselves from the pain that comes from loving others. The ego above all else fears injury. The ego fears death. The ego is a pussy.
Although a wolf, I was too afraid to go deep into the woods. I was too afraid to let go. I was too afraid to die.
I must therefore go back. I must die before I can continue to live.
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