Okay, apologies up front for what may be a long one. I don’t expect anyone to actually read this or relate to it should they choose to, but I’m laying it down simply because this is something I need to get out, and my hope is that by doing so I can find a bit of clarity. I’ll dispense with the SWIMs and the FOAFs and the SWIYs for the remainder of my post, with the understanding that everything following is all just lies and nonsense…
Anyway:
I’ve been a member of this fraternity now for only a few short months, and in that time I don’t believe there’s been a single waking moment I’ve spent not thinking about DMT. I’ve done it a great deal - sometimes in bliss, sometimes in terror – and despite my ever-fluctuating ability to surrender to the experience, I’ve continued to use it steadily. I’ve felt at times profoundly enlightened and at times a bit insane. I’ve had the urge to stop strangers on the street – to grab them, shake them, make them understand (though I haven’t actually done so), yet I’ve kept it completely hidden from the person I’ve chosen to spend my life with. I come here to try and make sense of it all - as hooked on the endless processing of the experience as on the experience itself, reading and typing, typing and reading, and never getting a whole lot closer to achieving much understanding. All I can say with any certainty is this thing I’ve found (that we all have found), this place I go (that we all seem to go) defies all attempts at decoding. It’s beyond logic or reason or the ability to interpret – less a drug than a personal rocket ship. It runs deeper than sex, deeper than love, deeper than human contact. I love it and fear it with equal ferocity, and I’ve been, in a sense, re-wired by it. And in moments of complete and utter self-honesty, I just don’t know if it’s good for me.
Now, this is where I’m sure I lose just about everyone here, but understand that I make no judgments about DMT in general. I’m talking only about my experience, my ability (or lack thereof) to use this tool responsibly. I think, like many things in life, this substance can help or harm, and I believe when used “correctly”, it can open one’s mind tremendously. My tendency (like many here) is to deify it in fact, to hold it up as holy sacrament, as a doorway to the collective. But whether it’s my set and setting, my personal history, or both, I’m getting the message loud and clear, over and over again, that what I’m doing just isn’t okay. So, for now at least, I must stop.
Like plenty of others who gather here, I’ve struggled with addiction. This discovery came as no surprise (that others like me would be drawn to this thing), but what did surprise me (and continues to do so) is that so many appear (or make the claim, anyway) to have reconciled with these issues. I’ve stated before in other forums that I was having a similar experience – that I found it impossible to approach this abusively - that it was just too big, too weird and provocative, too potentially punishing to do so - but I can no longer say this is accurate (for me). My truth, it would seem, appears to be much as it’s been for most of my life: If it gets me high, I will fuck it up. So it’s been and so it remains…
Until last summer I’d been clean and sober a little over 12 years. The details of my history aren’t so important or unique in any way, but suffice it to say I’ve never much had the knack for moderation. I’d used psychedelics along the way - never responsibly, and certainly never in a seeking or spiritual manner – but my preference was always to get unconscious, as quickly and efficiently as possible. I get clean at 30 (with a great deal of effort and diligent, ongoing work – in therapy, after a number of rehabs, in 12-step programs, etc.) and I see my life improve a great deal - slowly and gradually over time. I do many things, have lots of experiences previously inaccessible to me – get fit and healthy, travel the world, fall in love and get married, build a career, have a beautiful kid, etc., etc., etc. - the whole thing normal, healthy people tend to do with their lives. I’m happy (in my own restless fashion), but increasingly curious as to whether or not I could do it all differently now - meaning get high and still have a life. I’m older, I’m wiser, I’ve come to think of myself as a searcher and student, more curious than cautious by nature perhaps, but grounded in ways I just wasn’t before - so I wonder if there are previously untested elixirs out there I can use for growth and for fun, without bridging the gap back to booze and smack and fucking my life up entirely.
Cut to last summer - the opportunity presents itself and I take it. Wife and kid leave town for a week, and I give in to temptation and get high - nothing overly dramatic, mind you - I smoke weed and salvia extract - and when they return, I do shut it down (and feel pretty much okay about it). I feel no need to continue with the salvia (though the experience is certainly compelling in a jarring, dissociative kind of way), and no desire to keep smoking pot (though it’s changed quite a bit in my absence). Months go by, and perhaps emboldened by not having blown up my life, I begin researching DMT. I read Strassman’s book, D.M. Turner’s, spend a lot of time here and on Erowid, gathering information as we do and becoming increasingly fascinated, but figure an extraction just isn’t in the cards, impossible as it is for me to share ANY of this with my wife. In time, though, I search out the one friend I have who I’m comfortable approaching with such a caper. Turns out he’s 100% on board, so together we take the leap…
So, here I am now with something close to 100 rides under my belt, IN LOVE with this thing, but using it in a distinctly sketchy manner – keeping it hidden away in the house, smoking it almost exclusively in conjunction with sublingual THH (which definitely increases the potential for abuse, in my humble opinion), in the dark after wife and kid have finally gone to bed, usually repeatedly for a couple of hours and often in front of the TV. I’m using it less like holy sacrament than I am some kind of space crack, and my usage of it (not the drug itself - and this is an important distinction) is starting to fuck me up. I’m feeling increasingly alienated from my real world surroundings, watching the monkey masses incessantly thumbing away at their fucking Blackberries (of which I’m admittedly a member) while teetering on the edge of financial ruin (as a result of nothing to do with spice and everything to do with the global economy), in full-blown crisis in my marriage (again, not the spice, but I can’t really say that my weird obsession is helping), constantly aware of and preoccupied with this impossible space between spaces, unable to share it with anyone but my one lone compadre (who’s circumstances are very different than mine), and compelled to ride this out to whatever fucked up conclusion awaits.
The irony is that I feel less inclined towards other substances as a result, and I’m functioning at as high a level as I’ve been at anytime - so my intention here certainly isn’t to demonize DMT - I just question whether or not I have the ability to use it appropriately. There’s an article somewhere on the site in which Nick Sands uses the word “psychedelics” in conversation. The person he’s speaking to takes offence, preferring the term “entheogens”, and Sands replies that they're only such if and when they're used sacramentally. Otherwise they're just psychedelics, or even just… drugs. I don’t know whether any substance can ever be anything more to me, and it saddens me to have to admit this, but therein lies my dilemma. Because stakes are high with a kid involved, and my actions are blatantly selfish - and I can read the Tibetan Book of the Dead and ponder the mysteries of the universe, but there’s just no way I can make the claim that what I’m doing is spiritual. My biggest job is to raise my kid, to lay the groundwork for her happiness - and I find myself asking the question lately if this is such a valuable experience, would I want her to have it… and the answer is no - absolutely not. Call me a hypocrite (and I am one, I know...), but my hope is that she’ll be happy enough - both in her skin and this world - that she won't feel the need to go there.
So, the time has come for me to stop – whether temporarily or for good I’ll figure out as I go. Once again, my intention here is not to disparage the spice - I’m an ENORMOUS fan, and if not for all of my guilt and shame and weighty fucked up issues, I’d be proud to be its poster boy. My hope is that if and when I decide to give this another try, I can do so without ambivalence, without this awful shit creeping in and terrorizing my travels. I’ll be making an effort to stay away from the boards as well for awhile. Perhaps I’ll take up basket weaving, or get around to filing my tax return.
For all those I may have offended with my cranky posts and my sarcasm, I apologize. To my main man, Antrocles, you’re a real friend. It’s been an honor spelunking along side of you.
Anyway:
I’ve been a member of this fraternity now for only a few short months, and in that time I don’t believe there’s been a single waking moment I’ve spent not thinking about DMT. I’ve done it a great deal - sometimes in bliss, sometimes in terror – and despite my ever-fluctuating ability to surrender to the experience, I’ve continued to use it steadily. I’ve felt at times profoundly enlightened and at times a bit insane. I’ve had the urge to stop strangers on the street – to grab them, shake them, make them understand (though I haven’t actually done so), yet I’ve kept it completely hidden from the person I’ve chosen to spend my life with. I come here to try and make sense of it all - as hooked on the endless processing of the experience as on the experience itself, reading and typing, typing and reading, and never getting a whole lot closer to achieving much understanding. All I can say with any certainty is this thing I’ve found (that we all have found), this place I go (that we all seem to go) defies all attempts at decoding. It’s beyond logic or reason or the ability to interpret – less a drug than a personal rocket ship. It runs deeper than sex, deeper than love, deeper than human contact. I love it and fear it with equal ferocity, and I’ve been, in a sense, re-wired by it. And in moments of complete and utter self-honesty, I just don’t know if it’s good for me.
Now, this is where I’m sure I lose just about everyone here, but understand that I make no judgments about DMT in general. I’m talking only about my experience, my ability (or lack thereof) to use this tool responsibly. I think, like many things in life, this substance can help or harm, and I believe when used “correctly”, it can open one’s mind tremendously. My tendency (like many here) is to deify it in fact, to hold it up as holy sacrament, as a doorway to the collective. But whether it’s my set and setting, my personal history, or both, I’m getting the message loud and clear, over and over again, that what I’m doing just isn’t okay. So, for now at least, I must stop.
Like plenty of others who gather here, I’ve struggled with addiction. This discovery came as no surprise (that others like me would be drawn to this thing), but what did surprise me (and continues to do so) is that so many appear (or make the claim, anyway) to have reconciled with these issues. I’ve stated before in other forums that I was having a similar experience – that I found it impossible to approach this abusively - that it was just too big, too weird and provocative, too potentially punishing to do so - but I can no longer say this is accurate (for me). My truth, it would seem, appears to be much as it’s been for most of my life: If it gets me high, I will fuck it up. So it’s been and so it remains…
Until last summer I’d been clean and sober a little over 12 years. The details of my history aren’t so important or unique in any way, but suffice it to say I’ve never much had the knack for moderation. I’d used psychedelics along the way - never responsibly, and certainly never in a seeking or spiritual manner – but my preference was always to get unconscious, as quickly and efficiently as possible. I get clean at 30 (with a great deal of effort and diligent, ongoing work – in therapy, after a number of rehabs, in 12-step programs, etc.) and I see my life improve a great deal - slowly and gradually over time. I do many things, have lots of experiences previously inaccessible to me – get fit and healthy, travel the world, fall in love and get married, build a career, have a beautiful kid, etc., etc., etc. - the whole thing normal, healthy people tend to do with their lives. I’m happy (in my own restless fashion), but increasingly curious as to whether or not I could do it all differently now - meaning get high and still have a life. I’m older, I’m wiser, I’ve come to think of myself as a searcher and student, more curious than cautious by nature perhaps, but grounded in ways I just wasn’t before - so I wonder if there are previously untested elixirs out there I can use for growth and for fun, without bridging the gap back to booze and smack and fucking my life up entirely.
Cut to last summer - the opportunity presents itself and I take it. Wife and kid leave town for a week, and I give in to temptation and get high - nothing overly dramatic, mind you - I smoke weed and salvia extract - and when they return, I do shut it down (and feel pretty much okay about it). I feel no need to continue with the salvia (though the experience is certainly compelling in a jarring, dissociative kind of way), and no desire to keep smoking pot (though it’s changed quite a bit in my absence). Months go by, and perhaps emboldened by not having blown up my life, I begin researching DMT. I read Strassman’s book, D.M. Turner’s, spend a lot of time here and on Erowid, gathering information as we do and becoming increasingly fascinated, but figure an extraction just isn’t in the cards, impossible as it is for me to share ANY of this with my wife. In time, though, I search out the one friend I have who I’m comfortable approaching with such a caper. Turns out he’s 100% on board, so together we take the leap…
So, here I am now with something close to 100 rides under my belt, IN LOVE with this thing, but using it in a distinctly sketchy manner – keeping it hidden away in the house, smoking it almost exclusively in conjunction with sublingual THH (which definitely increases the potential for abuse, in my humble opinion), in the dark after wife and kid have finally gone to bed, usually repeatedly for a couple of hours and often in front of the TV. I’m using it less like holy sacrament than I am some kind of space crack, and my usage of it (not the drug itself - and this is an important distinction) is starting to fuck me up. I’m feeling increasingly alienated from my real world surroundings, watching the monkey masses incessantly thumbing away at their fucking Blackberries (of which I’m admittedly a member) while teetering on the edge of financial ruin (as a result of nothing to do with spice and everything to do with the global economy), in full-blown crisis in my marriage (again, not the spice, but I can’t really say that my weird obsession is helping), constantly aware of and preoccupied with this impossible space between spaces, unable to share it with anyone but my one lone compadre (who’s circumstances are very different than mine), and compelled to ride this out to whatever fucked up conclusion awaits.
The irony is that I feel less inclined towards other substances as a result, and I’m functioning at as high a level as I’ve been at anytime - so my intention here certainly isn’t to demonize DMT - I just question whether or not I have the ability to use it appropriately. There’s an article somewhere on the site in which Nick Sands uses the word “psychedelics” in conversation. The person he’s speaking to takes offence, preferring the term “entheogens”, and Sands replies that they're only such if and when they're used sacramentally. Otherwise they're just psychedelics, or even just… drugs. I don’t know whether any substance can ever be anything more to me, and it saddens me to have to admit this, but therein lies my dilemma. Because stakes are high with a kid involved, and my actions are blatantly selfish - and I can read the Tibetan Book of the Dead and ponder the mysteries of the universe, but there’s just no way I can make the claim that what I’m doing is spiritual. My biggest job is to raise my kid, to lay the groundwork for her happiness - and I find myself asking the question lately if this is such a valuable experience, would I want her to have it… and the answer is no - absolutely not. Call me a hypocrite (and I am one, I know...), but my hope is that she’ll be happy enough - both in her skin and this world - that she won't feel the need to go there.
So, the time has come for me to stop – whether temporarily or for good I’ll figure out as I go. Once again, my intention here is not to disparage the spice - I’m an ENORMOUS fan, and if not for all of my guilt and shame and weighty fucked up issues, I’d be proud to be its poster boy. My hope is that if and when I decide to give this another try, I can do so without ambivalence, without this awful shit creeping in and terrorizing my travels. I’ll be making an effort to stay away from the boards as well for awhile. Perhaps I’ll take up basket weaving, or get around to filing my tax return.
For all those I may have offended with my cranky posts and my sarcasm, I apologize. To my main man, Antrocles, you’re a real friend. It’s been an honor spelunking along side of you.