I love flashbacks.
I love meditating backwards from the moment.
Each n,n-DMT experience is like it's own little leaf on a vine that I grew, that I am.
How did I get here...You did this here....then remember this....you chose this then....yes.....
I remember riding my bike along the coast one morning before the sun rise. A changa spliff dangling from my mouth. Those who I passed that morning may still wonder just what that familiar and sweet smelling aroma was that I traveled by with on two wheels smiling. I was alive. Along the path and into a new awareness. The sun came up, igniting the flow of tears hung up stagnant from the night. A bliss where there was once a possibility. A memory, now.
Standing still and breathing with palms pressed balancing with the red woods. The slow lush lurch of life. Our consolidated lightning perception, illuminated and flowing. Sunlight moves like water through my skull.
My ears are pointy and I am in disbelief. The entire room is burning itself alive after having folded into the other.
Clap hands and navigate neuroelectrical capillaries at max capacity regardless of the language anchoring you slowly transform into silent stone at the whim of a cosmic wind.
I have heard the purest truth fall out of the mouths of heads and hands that pass through the membrane reaching.
I flip my middle fingers, a new mudra, and dissolve beyond petty false laws in tragic laughter.
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I love meditating backwards from the moment.
Each n,n-DMT experience is like it's own little leaf on a vine that I grew, that I am.
How did I get here...You did this here....then remember this....you chose this then....yes.....
I remember riding my bike along the coast one morning before the sun rise. A changa spliff dangling from my mouth. Those who I passed that morning may still wonder just what that familiar and sweet smelling aroma was that I traveled by with on two wheels smiling. I was alive. Along the path and into a new awareness. The sun came up, igniting the flow of tears hung up stagnant from the night. A bliss where there was once a possibility. A memory, now.
Standing still and breathing with palms pressed balancing with the red woods. The slow lush lurch of life. Our consolidated lightning perception, illuminated and flowing. Sunlight moves like water through my skull.
My ears are pointy and I am in disbelief. The entire room is burning itself alive after having folded into the other.
Clap hands and navigate neuroelectrical capillaries at max capacity regardless of the language anchoring you slowly transform into silent stone at the whim of a cosmic wind.
I have heard the purest truth fall out of the mouths of heads and hands that pass through the membrane reaching.
I flip my middle fingers, a new mudra, and dissolve beyond petty false laws in tragic laughter.
+
