A comfy blanket.
N,N-DMT, homemade Batch 1(First successful extraction)
This entry reads differently from the others because it is different.
This was not a visionary trip. It was not about entities, meaning, or spectacle. It was about process. About learning how the machinery behaves when the inputs are finally clean.
This was our first successful home extraction.
After two failed runs with the wrong source material—obviously not Mimosa hostilis—we finally had the right bark. By that point, we were already competent with the extraction procedure itself. When the supplies arrived, everything landed smoothly. The lab equipment showed up on time. The carts arrived a full week early. It felt less like luck and more like friction disappearing.
From 100 grams of Mimosa hostilis root bark, the first pull yielded approximately 1.4 grams. The second pull produced a bit more. Altogether, close to 2 grams total. We prepared a 1:1 cart: 0.5 grams of DMT dissolved into 0.5 milliliters of propylene glycol. Another gram remained, enough for future carts.
Before doing anything ambitious, I took a handshake dose—just enough to soak into the wick.
The difference was immediate.
This did not arrive like a rocket ship. It arrived like a warm, comfortable blanket. Settling rather than launching. Whatever “freshness” means in this context, it mattered. The state felt friendly, well-behaved, and clean.
That alone told us we had made something really nice.
Later that evening, I took two solid hits—twelve or thirteen seconds each—at 4.2 volts. The visuals were strong, clear, and stable. At one point I topped up with the remnants of an older cart, which had begun leaking. A trace of liquid touched my lips and lingered there, pulling attention back into the body. I didn’t like that. It was a reminder of how sensitive the state is to unwanted anchors.
I returned to the homebrew.
Again: clear, stable, controlled. There was no question now. Making our own was not just cheaper; it gave us full control over the entire signal chain.
The primary insight from this session had nothing to do with imagery.
It was about the heart.
Yes, the heart accelerates during onset. Anticipation is real. Pre-toke nerves are real. Autonomic responses exist, and pretending otherwise is dishonest. But after the inhalation—after the transition—the sensation was not simple acceleration.
It was rhythmic.
The best analogy I have is beat-matching records.
Ordinary waking reality runs in something like 4/4 time. The DMT state feels closer to 3/3, or maybe 5/4. During the transition, the nervous system briefly tries to run both meters at once. The result is not panic, but syncopation.
For a moment, the beats don’t line up.
With practice, I’ve learned that this moment can be navigated. Two or three puffs in, I can adjust my breathing—check it by half a beat—and suddenly the rhythms lock. Click. The heart settles. The system synchronizes.
This feels less like “calming down” and more like learning to mix worlds, the same way I once learned to mix records.
By the end of the session, that realization felt more important than any visual. The trip itself was successful, clean, and reassuring—but the lesson was technical, embodied, and transferable.
That was enough.
Circuit Dynamics: Transition Mastery
This session reflects increasing fluency moving between Circuits I–III (somatic, emotional, territorial) and higher circuits without triggering defensive feedback loops.
Earlier anxiety around cardiac sensation likely stemmed from Circuit I interpreting unfamiliar rhythm as threat. Reframing the sensation as rhythmic transition allows higher-circuit stabilization.
Skill acquisition replaces fear. This is how practice looks.
