Valmar
Esteemed member
Been years since I had any inspiration to write, but the Ayahuasca journey from last night seems to have done... something?
I prepared for a few days, getting myself into a mindset about being open to whatever may happen during the journey, trying to let go of any preconceptions or wanting to control the trip, to let it take me where it needed to go.
On the day of the journey, I spent time getting myself into a calm mindset, keeping my intentions for the trip as clear and concise as possible, so my mind wouldn't panic or interfere with whatever process might happen. To let come what may.
(10:20pm)
I nervously mix 50 milliliters of pear juice with 50 milliliters of my brew, which I had calculated to be, combined, 5 grams of Syrian Rue and 10 grams of Acacia Confusa. The pear juice makes it very easy to consume and swallow without gagging. I had read that traditional Ayahuasca made with fresh vine was sweeter due to natural sugars in the vine, so I figured, why not sweeten an analogue brew with something appropriate? Pear juice was pretty neutral.
(10:30pm)
I gulp down the brew, washing it down with another mouthful of water. Even the grit of the Acacia Confusa isn't so bad with the pear juice balancing things out. I sit on my computer for a bit, both to sit still, and occupy my mind while my stomach digests the brew so I don't focus on potentially vomiting.
(10:50pm)
Feeling a bit off, maybe due to nerves, I go and sit in my bedroom, in my comfy blue chair, with my vomit bucket in front of me, closing my eyes, and focusing on being calm, feeling my gut mildly roiling. I burp, a good sign. Not much happens, and time passes as I wait, trying to meditate.
(11:30pm?)
Didn't pay much attention to the clock, but it felt like a good amount of time passed. My mind starts racing slightly, and so does my heartbeat. Thoughts, but not visuals. Still, I feel a bit different to my normal state of mind. Patience, I think, or try to.
(Midnight)
Don't remember much about this stage of the come-up, but my mind starts wandering in various directions, incoherent and unfocused. There's a lot of random stuff flashing through my mind, but it has no purpose or meaning, seemingly. Nothing for me to grasp onto.
(Sometime later)
After having lost track of time in the disorder of my mind, I eventually start feeling some very dark, heavy emotions... I could see my younger self as a child, stuck in a scene, frozen. My features were blackened, blotted out. The energy I could feel from it was like the weight of the world. All I could do was be the witness to this detached experience of what felt like was childhood trauma. I feel myself transition to the point of being that child. I make myself accept the pain and trauma, and then healing comes, when I accept that feeling in full, and then I feel it gradually give way to feeling not so heavy anymore.
(Time indeterminate ~ 1:00pm?)
After that, I'm still not feeling much, seemingly, or so I think, nevermind the experience I just went through. My mind doesn't seem to recognize what's happening. More time passes, with no sense of how fast or slow it's moving. Am I even awake? After this point, I've lost complete track of time, as I seem to go through one trance state after another... I didn't even check the time afterwards, I think...
But then, I make a connection... to give context, I end up connecting, as I had in two past journeys, to what felt like another reality, another version of me, a bird version of me, that happened in a past life, except this was happening in real time, and this other life me was fully aware of my presence. There was no questioning what was happening ~ it felt like I was actually there, and yet, I was perceiving through the senses of another... me. I felt like me, but wasn't me as I knew it in this current reality. There aren't really words to describe the feeling...
In the second-previous trip to this one, I just had memories of this bird self life come to me out of nowhere, though there was no contact, as it were. In the previous trip to this one, there was a connection, somehow. I first remember hearing and seeing was this figure in the darkness, who I immediate knew, somehow, to be a seer who seemed happy to see me again, as if I'd met her before. Curious.
The scene then shifts, as if something in me is choosing another point in time that seemed more appropriate. I'm with my partner in that lifetime, in an intimate moment. She, Willow, after some discussion, becomes aware of me. Compelled by something, I end up telling them about my memories of my bird self's life, about their future children and their personalities, the struggles they'll face with raising them, and they're simply fascinated. The other me goes silent at some point, and simply observes, lost for words, though I can feel his fascination and curiosity, as he observes me. Eventually we say our goodbyes, though I wasn't sure what to think, worried that maybe I'd interfered or something.
This latest trip... I suddenly hear a name ~ Gooseberry. Suddenly, there was a connection again, except it was even more lucid and vibrant. I witness being Gooseberry, being with Willow again. Then she can sense me again, excited. She quickly put to rest my fears of having interfered with their lives, having noticed them somehow, and says they're most grateful for everything that had happened. They make love, and there's a very strong sense of intimacy... and then a deeper connection erupts from somewhere. Our consciousnesses twine up this tree, and Gooseberry-me cries out that it's the bird god, in shock and awe. And there is this entity silently observing us, I notice, in interest. Gently, after a short while, he puts us back down to earth, so to speak.
The connection vanishes as they fall asleep, exhausted... or rather, detaches, with me still be able to observe their unconsciousness.Then another past-life pops out of nowhere, of a Tibetan monk who is very... anxious, self-absorbed and detached, not sure what to make about the sudden connection, wondering if it's real, that his masters will be so happy that he's made progress... and I could feel all of the inflexible emotion, the very hard-set attitude underlit by anxiety and sheer stubbornness. We communicate, and in wonder, he says he'll go and tell his masters he's made progress. They'll be so happy. He wants to make sure it's real.
Immediately, it cuts to me knowing that he knew it was real. I got the feeling that his masters had decided I was a difficult case, so they decided that I would have a set of lifetimes in the Amazon, to learn the ways of Shamanism, to break in my anxiety, my inflexibility, my stubbornness, my ego. That I would be referred to a certain teacher who could help. I experience a few things in that lifetime. I see a deer or an elk, or something. I throw my spear. It hits nothing. There's no signs of anything. My hunting partner goes over ~ nothing. He looks at me, and to where the deer or elk supposedly was, and back, a few times, apparently thinking.
He takes me to see the village shaman. He looks at various muscles, my mouth, my eyes, the back of my hands, looking for something. He could sense something interesting in me. He says that I'm a stubborn one, inflexible. The words were automatically translated in my mind into those meanings, me not hearing the actual words. He's goes alright, let's look into that. Normally, no-one else drank Ayahuasca, but he offered me a cup. It hurts, I gag, wanting to vomit, but he's like, calm down, relax, let it happen. My teacher appears, the same one who I've been seeing in this lifetime ~ at least this-reality-me recognizes it, not my past-life self.
He says to the shaman, I'm taking this one as a student, asking politely for permission, greeting the shaman seemingly as a friend. The shaman doesn't even seem surprised. He accepts. I get the feeling that this shaman is my guardian spirit in this lifetime. That he's protected me for many lifetimes.
The scene transitions back to my bird self, Gooseberry. Gooseberry and Willow seem stimulated back into consciousness by my reconnection. They're happy to see me again, brimming with joy. They make love again, though this time Gooseberry seems to recognize somehow that the psychic I see in this lifetime is the same seer he was consulting. He gives me a message to give to her ~ to connect to her other lives, that it was important for some reason, compelled to share the advice. He seems puzzled when he notices from my memories that she doesn't seem able to at the moment, because he and I were, weren't we? The connection strains from both of us being pretty exhausted. The connection takes a lot of energy to maintain apparently.
Then the connection detaches, and I encounter the bird god again. I'm in complete awe of this entity. He is so... powerful, but gentle and wise. The energy he gives off is extremely subtle, but full of obvious power and wisdom. We chat, and I realize he's the reason for my connection to crows, why I was gifted in my last Ayahuasca journey with crow energy by a crow thoughtform, which I could then recall, with focus. He wonders why I don't train that power, as you train it like a muscle, or it becomes harder to access. I ask him to guide me, to control me, for some odd reason. He looks at me in silent puzzlement, and then laughs a little, saying, no, no, I will ask it to teach you. He reaches out, and I feel the crow energy intensify in me a bit.
Then he studies me some more, and pulls my teacher in, then telling him to watch me, then disappearing. My teacher looks at me, studying me, and then says that I was a stubborn one, yet I'd grown so much, from the stubborn, inflexible, anxious person he first remembered, calling back to my experience of the Tibetan monk past life. He says he is very proud of me, of my progress, that I am one of his revered, because of my progress. He then pulls me with him into a space, showing me some of his other students' souls, their progress, that they were just like me, that I was just like them. I thank him for everything he's done, and he laughs, then sternly taps me all over with his staff, telling me that I still have a way to go, as if he is disciplining me, showing me that I need to maintain control, to set boundaries.
Then... I slip back into being Gooseberry, at a different point in time. He doesn't notice our connection. He notices a feather fluttering from nowhere. He sees a meaning in it. He decides to find a seer. My perspective through him flashes forward here and there, observing him asking a good few other birds, eventually finding someone that knows where to point him.
He meets the seer, and she tells sternly him to be still and silent. She studies what seems to be the energy of the room, noticing something, going back and forth, again and again. She doesn't know what she's looking for, but she knows something is there, to be uncovered. Eventually, she seems to notice me, and says an other-you is here. Gooseberry-me is puzzled at this news, having no response. Then this-me feels compelled to share stuff with her about our future meeting. She recoils, saying it's preposterous, being told one's own future. She puzzles over it, uncomfortably. She studies Gooseberry-me even more, seeming interested by something. Eventually... she reaches out to something, and my teacher, from this reality, appears to her in a vision. He bows, exchanges greetings, and notes that this one, Gooseberry, is his future student. He exchanges information with her that I am not privy to. Then the bird god is pulled in for a moment, though I don't recall what was said, as the scene skips to the seer sighing and saying to Gooseberry-me that she's got a lot to explain.
The scene skips to Gooseberry-me being shaken and confused, with the seer comforting him, saying it'll be okay, things will work out. Just go home, and seek comfort in your beloved. The scene skips to Gooseberry-me being home. I'm very immersed in being Gooseberry-me at this point, lost in his emotions. I'm struggling to know what to say. What can I say? Willow gently says that I can open up, that it'll be alright. So I do, and I tell her a lot of disjointed things, eventually growing more coherent, though I don't have insight into what alternate me was saying. It was like alternate me was dazed, a little out of it, shocked, perhaps. Willow shushes my fears, and I cave in, accepting that I shouldn't worry so much.
Time skips again, but this time, it was more of a chronology of memories, with Gooseberry-me not being aware of my presence. It seems to be much further back in time, in that reality. He does notice something from our connection, but doesn't seem to notice me, and mutters something about it being interesting. He withdraws into himself, and looks around the room. I see something that's like a hollow, as if it's in a tree or something. He seems to be grounding himself in reality, seeking reassurance from his surroundings, that he's sane. He gets a sense, from me or otherwise, that there was this bird that was important, someone who enjoyed his songs, but was too shy to approach him. He was a poet(?), a singer, someone who had gatherings of birds who would listen to him.
Time skips to meeting this shy bird. She's really shy, walled off. Nervous. But he decides to take her under his wing, to teach her how to find confidence, feeling it important. Time skips, she's still nervous and shy, but less closed-off and more confident. Time skips again, and now she's much more confident and open, chattering vibrantly. He gets a feeling of these past moments, perhaps inspired unconsciously by our connection, and reminds her of what it used to be like, when she was much more shy, and she laughs and giggles nervously, remembering, but enjoying herself all the same. Time continues skipping, and she falls in love with this bird she admired, and who had put in so much effort to help. The scene skips to them talking about being parents, and whether they're ready. She seems very happy and open, and joyous to consider becoming a parent. The scenes skip to a lot of intimacy. She keeps fainting for some reason, perhaps a remnant of her confidence issues, though they break through that. The connection then eventually ends.
I can feel the edges of my mind pounding. I ask my spirit guides worriedly that I'll probably have a pounding headache tomorrow, as it really sucks. They do something ~ I can feel the inside of my head, the energy. They strip away the Syrian Rue and Acacia Confusa somehow, and restore my serotonin levels to safe values.
Next day... no headache. But I seem to have written down whatever message alternate me seemed so desperate for me to give. The handwriting is less atrocious than I thought it would be.
Well, that's my trip dump, I guess. There's absolutely no way to confirm this ~ how could I possibly find evidence, in this reality, for such a powerful set of experiences? Not a chance. So, you'll have to take it as is.
I prepared for a few days, getting myself into a mindset about being open to whatever may happen during the journey, trying to let go of any preconceptions or wanting to control the trip, to let it take me where it needed to go.
On the day of the journey, I spent time getting myself into a calm mindset, keeping my intentions for the trip as clear and concise as possible, so my mind wouldn't panic or interfere with whatever process might happen. To let come what may.
(10:20pm)
I nervously mix 50 milliliters of pear juice with 50 milliliters of my brew, which I had calculated to be, combined, 5 grams of Syrian Rue and 10 grams of Acacia Confusa. The pear juice makes it very easy to consume and swallow without gagging. I had read that traditional Ayahuasca made with fresh vine was sweeter due to natural sugars in the vine, so I figured, why not sweeten an analogue brew with something appropriate? Pear juice was pretty neutral.
(10:30pm)
I gulp down the brew, washing it down with another mouthful of water. Even the grit of the Acacia Confusa isn't so bad with the pear juice balancing things out. I sit on my computer for a bit, both to sit still, and occupy my mind while my stomach digests the brew so I don't focus on potentially vomiting.
(10:50pm)
Feeling a bit off, maybe due to nerves, I go and sit in my bedroom, in my comfy blue chair, with my vomit bucket in front of me, closing my eyes, and focusing on being calm, feeling my gut mildly roiling. I burp, a good sign. Not much happens, and time passes as I wait, trying to meditate.
(11:30pm?)
Didn't pay much attention to the clock, but it felt like a good amount of time passed. My mind starts racing slightly, and so does my heartbeat. Thoughts, but not visuals. Still, I feel a bit different to my normal state of mind. Patience, I think, or try to.
(Midnight)
Don't remember much about this stage of the come-up, but my mind starts wandering in various directions, incoherent and unfocused. There's a lot of random stuff flashing through my mind, but it has no purpose or meaning, seemingly. Nothing for me to grasp onto.
(Sometime later)
After having lost track of time in the disorder of my mind, I eventually start feeling some very dark, heavy emotions... I could see my younger self as a child, stuck in a scene, frozen. My features were blackened, blotted out. The energy I could feel from it was like the weight of the world. All I could do was be the witness to this detached experience of what felt like was childhood trauma. I feel myself transition to the point of being that child. I make myself accept the pain and trauma, and then healing comes, when I accept that feeling in full, and then I feel it gradually give way to feeling not so heavy anymore.
(Time indeterminate ~ 1:00pm?)
After that, I'm still not feeling much, seemingly, or so I think, nevermind the experience I just went through. My mind doesn't seem to recognize what's happening. More time passes, with no sense of how fast or slow it's moving. Am I even awake? After this point, I've lost complete track of time, as I seem to go through one trance state after another... I didn't even check the time afterwards, I think...
But then, I make a connection... to give context, I end up connecting, as I had in two past journeys, to what felt like another reality, another version of me, a bird version of me, that happened in a past life, except this was happening in real time, and this other life me was fully aware of my presence. There was no questioning what was happening ~ it felt like I was actually there, and yet, I was perceiving through the senses of another... me. I felt like me, but wasn't me as I knew it in this current reality. There aren't really words to describe the feeling...
In the second-previous trip to this one, I just had memories of this bird self life come to me out of nowhere, though there was no contact, as it were. In the previous trip to this one, there was a connection, somehow. I first remember hearing and seeing was this figure in the darkness, who I immediate knew, somehow, to be a seer who seemed happy to see me again, as if I'd met her before. Curious.
The scene then shifts, as if something in me is choosing another point in time that seemed more appropriate. I'm with my partner in that lifetime, in an intimate moment. She, Willow, after some discussion, becomes aware of me. Compelled by something, I end up telling them about my memories of my bird self's life, about their future children and their personalities, the struggles they'll face with raising them, and they're simply fascinated. The other me goes silent at some point, and simply observes, lost for words, though I can feel his fascination and curiosity, as he observes me. Eventually we say our goodbyes, though I wasn't sure what to think, worried that maybe I'd interfered or something.
This latest trip... I suddenly hear a name ~ Gooseberry. Suddenly, there was a connection again, except it was even more lucid and vibrant. I witness being Gooseberry, being with Willow again. Then she can sense me again, excited. She quickly put to rest my fears of having interfered with their lives, having noticed them somehow, and says they're most grateful for everything that had happened. They make love, and there's a very strong sense of intimacy... and then a deeper connection erupts from somewhere. Our consciousnesses twine up this tree, and Gooseberry-me cries out that it's the bird god, in shock and awe. And there is this entity silently observing us, I notice, in interest. Gently, after a short while, he puts us back down to earth, so to speak.
The connection vanishes as they fall asleep, exhausted... or rather, detaches, with me still be able to observe their unconsciousness.Then another past-life pops out of nowhere, of a Tibetan monk who is very... anxious, self-absorbed and detached, not sure what to make about the sudden connection, wondering if it's real, that his masters will be so happy that he's made progress... and I could feel all of the inflexible emotion, the very hard-set attitude underlit by anxiety and sheer stubbornness. We communicate, and in wonder, he says he'll go and tell his masters he's made progress. They'll be so happy. He wants to make sure it's real.
Immediately, it cuts to me knowing that he knew it was real. I got the feeling that his masters had decided I was a difficult case, so they decided that I would have a set of lifetimes in the Amazon, to learn the ways of Shamanism, to break in my anxiety, my inflexibility, my stubbornness, my ego. That I would be referred to a certain teacher who could help. I experience a few things in that lifetime. I see a deer or an elk, or something. I throw my spear. It hits nothing. There's no signs of anything. My hunting partner goes over ~ nothing. He looks at me, and to where the deer or elk supposedly was, and back, a few times, apparently thinking.
He takes me to see the village shaman. He looks at various muscles, my mouth, my eyes, the back of my hands, looking for something. He could sense something interesting in me. He says that I'm a stubborn one, inflexible. The words were automatically translated in my mind into those meanings, me not hearing the actual words. He's goes alright, let's look into that. Normally, no-one else drank Ayahuasca, but he offered me a cup. It hurts, I gag, wanting to vomit, but he's like, calm down, relax, let it happen. My teacher appears, the same one who I've been seeing in this lifetime ~ at least this-reality-me recognizes it, not my past-life self.
He says to the shaman, I'm taking this one as a student, asking politely for permission, greeting the shaman seemingly as a friend. The shaman doesn't even seem surprised. He accepts. I get the feeling that this shaman is my guardian spirit in this lifetime. That he's protected me for many lifetimes.
The scene transitions back to my bird self, Gooseberry. Gooseberry and Willow seem stimulated back into consciousness by my reconnection. They're happy to see me again, brimming with joy. They make love again, though this time Gooseberry seems to recognize somehow that the psychic I see in this lifetime is the same seer he was consulting. He gives me a message to give to her ~ to connect to her other lives, that it was important for some reason, compelled to share the advice. He seems puzzled when he notices from my memories that she doesn't seem able to at the moment, because he and I were, weren't we? The connection strains from both of us being pretty exhausted. The connection takes a lot of energy to maintain apparently.
Then the connection detaches, and I encounter the bird god again. I'm in complete awe of this entity. He is so... powerful, but gentle and wise. The energy he gives off is extremely subtle, but full of obvious power and wisdom. We chat, and I realize he's the reason for my connection to crows, why I was gifted in my last Ayahuasca journey with crow energy by a crow thoughtform, which I could then recall, with focus. He wonders why I don't train that power, as you train it like a muscle, or it becomes harder to access. I ask him to guide me, to control me, for some odd reason. He looks at me in silent puzzlement, and then laughs a little, saying, no, no, I will ask it to teach you. He reaches out, and I feel the crow energy intensify in me a bit.
Then he studies me some more, and pulls my teacher in, then telling him to watch me, then disappearing. My teacher looks at me, studying me, and then says that I was a stubborn one, yet I'd grown so much, from the stubborn, inflexible, anxious person he first remembered, calling back to my experience of the Tibetan monk past life. He says he is very proud of me, of my progress, that I am one of his revered, because of my progress. He then pulls me with him into a space, showing me some of his other students' souls, their progress, that they were just like me, that I was just like them. I thank him for everything he's done, and he laughs, then sternly taps me all over with his staff, telling me that I still have a way to go, as if he is disciplining me, showing me that I need to maintain control, to set boundaries.
Then... I slip back into being Gooseberry, at a different point in time. He doesn't notice our connection. He notices a feather fluttering from nowhere. He sees a meaning in it. He decides to find a seer. My perspective through him flashes forward here and there, observing him asking a good few other birds, eventually finding someone that knows where to point him.
He meets the seer, and she tells sternly him to be still and silent. She studies what seems to be the energy of the room, noticing something, going back and forth, again and again. She doesn't know what she's looking for, but she knows something is there, to be uncovered. Eventually, she seems to notice me, and says an other-you is here. Gooseberry-me is puzzled at this news, having no response. Then this-me feels compelled to share stuff with her about our future meeting. She recoils, saying it's preposterous, being told one's own future. She puzzles over it, uncomfortably. She studies Gooseberry-me even more, seeming interested by something. Eventually... she reaches out to something, and my teacher, from this reality, appears to her in a vision. He bows, exchanges greetings, and notes that this one, Gooseberry, is his future student. He exchanges information with her that I am not privy to. Then the bird god is pulled in for a moment, though I don't recall what was said, as the scene skips to the seer sighing and saying to Gooseberry-me that she's got a lot to explain.
The scene skips to Gooseberry-me being shaken and confused, with the seer comforting him, saying it'll be okay, things will work out. Just go home, and seek comfort in your beloved. The scene skips to Gooseberry-me being home. I'm very immersed in being Gooseberry-me at this point, lost in his emotions. I'm struggling to know what to say. What can I say? Willow gently says that I can open up, that it'll be alright. So I do, and I tell her a lot of disjointed things, eventually growing more coherent, though I don't have insight into what alternate me was saying. It was like alternate me was dazed, a little out of it, shocked, perhaps. Willow shushes my fears, and I cave in, accepting that I shouldn't worry so much.
Time skips again, but this time, it was more of a chronology of memories, with Gooseberry-me not being aware of my presence. It seems to be much further back in time, in that reality. He does notice something from our connection, but doesn't seem to notice me, and mutters something about it being interesting. He withdraws into himself, and looks around the room. I see something that's like a hollow, as if it's in a tree or something. He seems to be grounding himself in reality, seeking reassurance from his surroundings, that he's sane. He gets a sense, from me or otherwise, that there was this bird that was important, someone who enjoyed his songs, but was too shy to approach him. He was a poet(?), a singer, someone who had gatherings of birds who would listen to him.
Time skips to meeting this shy bird. She's really shy, walled off. Nervous. But he decides to take her under his wing, to teach her how to find confidence, feeling it important. Time skips, she's still nervous and shy, but less closed-off and more confident. Time skips again, and now she's much more confident and open, chattering vibrantly. He gets a feeling of these past moments, perhaps inspired unconsciously by our connection, and reminds her of what it used to be like, when she was much more shy, and she laughs and giggles nervously, remembering, but enjoying herself all the same. Time continues skipping, and she falls in love with this bird she admired, and who had put in so much effort to help. The scene skips to them talking about being parents, and whether they're ready. She seems very happy and open, and joyous to consider becoming a parent. The scenes skip to a lot of intimacy. She keeps fainting for some reason, perhaps a remnant of her confidence issues, though they break through that. The connection then eventually ends.
I can feel the edges of my mind pounding. I ask my spirit guides worriedly that I'll probably have a pounding headache tomorrow, as it really sucks. They do something ~ I can feel the inside of my head, the energy. They strip away the Syrian Rue and Acacia Confusa somehow, and restore my serotonin levels to safe values.
Next day... no headache. But I seem to have written down whatever message alternate me seemed so desperate for me to give. The handwriting is less atrocious than I thought it would be.
Well, that's my trip dump, I guess. There's absolutely no way to confirm this ~ how could I possibly find evidence, in this reality, for such a powerful set of experiences? Not a chance. So, you'll have to take it as is.