Lavos
Rising Star
This thread will document most of my experiences until I breakthrough with DMT, which I plan on being quite soon. At the next available launching time, anyway, for now, I will add notes and my thoughts on my first couple months use of substances mentioned on this site.
This first post refers to my second ayahuasca experience, it is quite long. The first was pleasant but more simple than this.
So two years after trying my first ayahuasca brew, I’m finally starting to come away with something. I honestly wish it had worked for me then, as my psyche has only spun further out of grasp and become more disrupted since.
Almost 3 years ago, I read Naked Lunch. Was absolutely floored by the unique structure and vision within. It was like a haunted house down the end of the roads, so dark, yet softly beautiful. I read William Burroughs account of yage, and instantly it became my most desired psyche experience. (I had had mushrooms once, peyote once, and salvia twice, all at light doses) I have trouble keeping work, ridiculous anxiety sometimes, and therefore it was some months before I was ready to order. I wanted to order enough to ensure more than a single good trip. I had read many conflicting reports, and had not found the proper channels for an agreed upon dosage. My brew tek of yellow vine and chacruna leaves did nothing for me. I tried to reduce further, and burned it. The leftover stuff I simply lost interest in and kept attempting to grow weed, my vice (nothing against Mary, but anything so pleasant can easily become vice imo). That changed a few months ago.
More out of work than ever, and more anxiety about getting something going. I had some vine left over that I decided to put to use. I had all along been unaware that the vine was potent without additives.
I decided on this turn, I should eat only potatoes, no salt, no butter, for 3 days. I also had some wheat toast. The day I drank my brew, around 11, 4 hours after eating some toast.
I drank an unspecific amount of caapi vine. Trying hard to get down half in the first ten minutes. Previously, half was all I had, and healing and visions occurred at a very pleasant low level. The bitter tang was sticking to the back of the throat, tannins, a perfect word for the way it feels. I have to slow down to resist the urge to gag. Over the course of about 30 minutes I drink and swirl and drink 4/5 of my bottle. I have aligned myself with the accounts that instruct to ‘listen’ to the spirit of the vine, and drink as much as you need. I poured some mimosa in a shot glass. Approximately 1/6 of an 8gram container bottle (1.3g) This was not as easy to drink as it was before, and kicking back was not gonna work, I had to sip and push down, not allowing the liquid against the back of my cheeks. After most of the said shot, though not all, I resorted back to sipping from the bottle. 1.5-2grams mimosa is my estimate.
I stopped when I had to. I could feel my stomache slowly rumbling. Building up. Tearing down. I relaxed on the bed. I knew I had to keep the mimosa in at least a half hour for it to take hold on me, so I buckled down and when my nausea moved on me I moved against it. Over the next hour I allow visions of ideas and thoughts to materialize. My realizations are slow and humored. For example, at one point I recall seeing myself fall underwater…and then realized I was bubbling… then realized someone was taking my picture… then realized I was drowning or something odd, but okay with it… and there were others, and the environment had great crumbled statues. Each realization was like a new revelation of discovery, a new amusement at the profound connection and interaction of all these things. It was really inexplicable and beautiful to see all these seemingly un related things begin relating to one another, out of sheer curiosity perhaps?
Once, as my stomach rolled with nausea, I pictured a lab gnome of some sort, scraping my pain into a dredged ball of tar-y gunk. I say lab gnome but that doesn’t quite fit the image, more like an animated little doctor with a large head and dark face full of concentration. I glanced at the clock. About 45 minutes since I had drank my mimosa. I stretched and rolled in bed, laid my head flat right next to my bucket, sure something would come up soon. I was getting blasts of electricity to the head, but the nausea was keeping me pretty grounded. I had some Buddha bar music on, and the sound of water left me with a quick vision of the bathroom well flooded, my head laying in a rising puddle of house water.
I laid down and began to think of my step father. I do not have positive feelings for him much. I realized how every since I had known him, all his (tough) actions were based on fear and insecurity. He was the type to never allow someone else to drive him, never allowed himself to not be in control, always acting like nothing could stop him. I realized that life is not about control, how if we try to hard to control it, we only limit it. I dwelled on these thoughts of him, and thought of how even though I had tried to resist and flee when I was young, I was always attached and never really found my own strength. I thought I had become much more him than I had ever realized. At this point the trip took a turn.
I had been lying down, and I called out to my girl. I wanted some bread so maybe I could hurl the nausea out of me. When I heard no response, rather the eerie quiet of everything on the other side of the door, I worried I had come to in a dream state, the light switch had been flipped on me. I sat up quickly. “Babe!!!!” I hollered out. Not a sound at all. “What the fuck!!!” I was feeling very lucid. The world appeared like a dream, but I was in full weight of my body. I looked at the bed as if I were still laying in it, though caught outside of myself. Everything was shimmering with clarity and the air was quiet. I panicked some. If I was in a dream, the thing to do would be to blast through the ceiling or appear somewhere else. Instead, thoughts of running through the house finding it empty and then running through the neighborhood frantically took hold. I was worried that if I was in a dream, how would I get back to my head? Would something trick me? Would some weird twist of dream fate occur and leave me in an inexplicable state? Just a primordial ‘coming to’ type of panic. To hallucinate or be in a strange place is one thing. But to feel as if I had just lied down and then bam popped out of my head, not knowing what weird shit would happen, ugh, it left me feeling very vulnerable. Later, near the end of my trip I translated this fear quit a bit, but we’ll get there in a moment.
For now, I sat on the bed, looking at the clock, wasn’t the time way off, the computer, didn’t I leave the keyboard the other way. I was just waiting for something ‘scary’ to happen. I decided I had to move forward. Not knowing what to expect on the other side of the door, I opened it hesitantly, but swiftly once cracked. I stepped out and saw my son in the living room. I hollered something out, and my girl heard me this time. Said she had been out in the garage. Exactly what she would say if I were in a dream. (same thing happened coming down on salvia, she affirmed her presence and I still felt like she was performing exactly the way my sub-con’ would have her) I told her I freaked out, I wanted her near. Immediately I had to run back to my room and purge. It was a quick splash, and I knew there would be more. Before I could get more up I had to purge out the other side also. I ran to the very near bathroom. Sat down and continued to purge through both sides. Through this I still questioned the reality of my state. Wondered to myself if this was ‘fake’ and I’d turn to find I had just puked next to myself. I realized I didn’t want to go any further. I asked the time, hoping it wouldn’t keep me long. I asked for a warm bath. This felt cold so I drained it and made it hot. I felt lucid still in the tub, like if I relaxed I might wake to find myself spinning down the drain, into the void, and I was very afraid to depart.
This is scary but frustrating. I have attachment issues, relationship and commitment struggles, and am not quite comfortable with my place in life. Before journeying, I tell myself I’m ready for the other side, ready to detach myself from my anchors and troubles. Then at the first hint of actually being present in the other side, I lose my nerve and cry out, like a baby for mother. This is not what I want. I want to be a strong one. I enjoy ambiguity and aimlessness. I have been in one long relationship that I’ve attempted to leave multiple times. I resist myself and my psychotic state worsens. But in the grips of a bad experience, I’m thankful and forgiving that I have someone to hold me through.
Still, I can’t help but feel that my soul yearns for an awesome strength on it’s own, unbound by explanations and questions and dues to others (we all have dues, but how we are able to deal with karma is limitless). We are all different here, and I don’t think anyone can tell me specifically what is ‘good‘. But I find myself more aligned with personas that resist long and grounded relationships. In my eyes, I’m a Kerouac or something, not a home body looking for love, but a road spirit looking for life. This is a feeling I remember when very young. The call of adventure and continuous change, the constantly rolling over in search of infinite beauty. These experiences show me how completely attached I’ve become, almost all out of the fear of not knowing what to do next, or hurting others. My journals are filled with ideas of destroying guilt, all life is selfish, even love, gathered up for us by us, and that first, one must harm that which he loves if one wants to grow. The rose sheds many blossoms, and takes many cuts, before it produces much more. But I have not been hunting myself out, only allowing endless ‘love/attachment’ to grow. But it’s an angry love, a hurt and spiteful love.
The rest of the trip I just waited out. I couldn’t stand to be still for too long in one position, as my conscious was just questioning the reality of everything. Some paranoia, wanting to get out of the house, see more normal stuff. About 4 hours after the start, I felt pretty baseline, but still apprehensive that I might be out of my body. I reflected on my experience. So what if I was in a dream, why did I allow that to make it so scary? Because weird shit happens in dreams, you never know what’s going to happen. Ah, I thought, I see. Life is strange too. We get complacent. But there is always a nearby story of something surreal happening to someone else. Strange shit COULD occur at any time in a dream, but also could in ‘real’ life. I took this fear as a sign to realize that you never know when that moment of ‘breaking’ will occur. That you have to face that life could throw you a curveball at any moment. And that neither life nor the dream are more real, but rather just different states/places. I accepted and moved past my fear of what if this or that is a dream. What if? Does it mean more or less? No I decided, whatever my consciousness takes in, that’s just it. I was still slightly apprehensive.
I was having all sorts of small insights, while trying to watch Willow with the family. I was very distracted, realizing that the thoughts of my step father culminated in my purge. Fascinated by the experience, because as I resisted early, I couldn’t help but think I was going to get so little healing out of it, that I turned down the chance to embrace freedom. But here I was gaining invaluably. I was not saying Stop being afraid, but rather actually letting go, and just deeply accepting, I am afraid. Still, a slight nervousness and anxiety in the gut. Until I realized something dark and quite meaningful.
I thought back to a dream I had had two nights before. It was very detailed and also long, I‘ll try to keep it simple here.
I remember being in an underground type facility, being questioned in a room, by speakers I could not discern. Questions of sexuality, intent, morals. To get down to this ‘interrogation’ room, I had to walk through a freezer in a grocery and go down stairs.
So somehow later in the dream a lady is leading me, my girl, and our child here. And on the way into the store I realize where she is taking us. I become anxious, I try to go with it, to say what more could they want, it’s just another scheduled ‘looking into‘. But as we got to the freezer door and this old lady opened it, I quickly thought ‘No, why would they want me again, of course they want to do more, of course they want to take it further!’ Who knows what they will try this time while I’m there. I grab a paper from the lady’s hand and run, my family already descending, I left them. In another aisle I rip this paper up and try to toss it. The store is populating now, and people are looking for me. I explain I’ve done nothing wrong and must be on my way.
Out of the store, I break into a crowded hall. Someone congratulates an acquaintance on his fame or performance of something, and by this I‘m frustrated. This figure had featured earlier in the dream, in similar fashion, taking praise from others. (it’s a weakness I’ve sought to leave behind, seeking the praise of people, but by the message in this dream it’s obviously still there) I bump past him and them in this crowded hall, and move quickly, like I feel I’m being chased. All my dreams consist of indulging in sex/drugs/excitement, or being chased by some type of agents. Countless places and over and over, something wants me, and I evade it running into glass elevators jumping off buildings, etc.
I ran down the hall, left into a bathroom, yellowed and small, much like one from an old family house. I don’t remember sitting for a shit, but I remember reaching in and tearing up paper. I don’t know if it was evidence of me, or again the paper from the old lady’s hand, but even with poo on it, I tore and tore it while flushing. I turned the shower on, all in a frenzy. I get in. About 1 minute into the shower, and low and behold a shadow crosses the ceiling as the door opens. I’m found. I awake. For the first time ever, I have run into a place where I cannot escape. For the first time ever, my shadow has trapped me, found me, defenseless. Putting this into perspective with my fears of the trip produced the most alleviating feeling I could imagine. A moment later all anxiety and gut feeling was gone. Tears ran down my face.
Later I console myself by saying whatever I have to face has to face me also. Whatever seeks to stare into me, also has to take my stare. I tried to strengthen myself with the idea. Though I still feel incredibly weak in front of whatever seeks me.
This first post refers to my second ayahuasca experience, it is quite long. The first was pleasant but more simple than this.
So two years after trying my first ayahuasca brew, I’m finally starting to come away with something. I honestly wish it had worked for me then, as my psyche has only spun further out of grasp and become more disrupted since.
Almost 3 years ago, I read Naked Lunch. Was absolutely floored by the unique structure and vision within. It was like a haunted house down the end of the roads, so dark, yet softly beautiful. I read William Burroughs account of yage, and instantly it became my most desired psyche experience. (I had had mushrooms once, peyote once, and salvia twice, all at light doses) I have trouble keeping work, ridiculous anxiety sometimes, and therefore it was some months before I was ready to order. I wanted to order enough to ensure more than a single good trip. I had read many conflicting reports, and had not found the proper channels for an agreed upon dosage. My brew tek of yellow vine and chacruna leaves did nothing for me. I tried to reduce further, and burned it. The leftover stuff I simply lost interest in and kept attempting to grow weed, my vice (nothing against Mary, but anything so pleasant can easily become vice imo). That changed a few months ago.
More out of work than ever, and more anxiety about getting something going. I had some vine left over that I decided to put to use. I had all along been unaware that the vine was potent without additives.
I decided on this turn, I should eat only potatoes, no salt, no butter, for 3 days. I also had some wheat toast. The day I drank my brew, around 11, 4 hours after eating some toast.
I drank an unspecific amount of caapi vine. Trying hard to get down half in the first ten minutes. Previously, half was all I had, and healing and visions occurred at a very pleasant low level. The bitter tang was sticking to the back of the throat, tannins, a perfect word for the way it feels. I have to slow down to resist the urge to gag. Over the course of about 30 minutes I drink and swirl and drink 4/5 of my bottle. I have aligned myself with the accounts that instruct to ‘listen’ to the spirit of the vine, and drink as much as you need. I poured some mimosa in a shot glass. Approximately 1/6 of an 8gram container bottle (1.3g) This was not as easy to drink as it was before, and kicking back was not gonna work, I had to sip and push down, not allowing the liquid against the back of my cheeks. After most of the said shot, though not all, I resorted back to sipping from the bottle. 1.5-2grams mimosa is my estimate.
I stopped when I had to. I could feel my stomache slowly rumbling. Building up. Tearing down. I relaxed on the bed. I knew I had to keep the mimosa in at least a half hour for it to take hold on me, so I buckled down and when my nausea moved on me I moved against it. Over the next hour I allow visions of ideas and thoughts to materialize. My realizations are slow and humored. For example, at one point I recall seeing myself fall underwater…and then realized I was bubbling… then realized someone was taking my picture… then realized I was drowning or something odd, but okay with it… and there were others, and the environment had great crumbled statues. Each realization was like a new revelation of discovery, a new amusement at the profound connection and interaction of all these things. It was really inexplicable and beautiful to see all these seemingly un related things begin relating to one another, out of sheer curiosity perhaps?
Once, as my stomach rolled with nausea, I pictured a lab gnome of some sort, scraping my pain into a dredged ball of tar-y gunk. I say lab gnome but that doesn’t quite fit the image, more like an animated little doctor with a large head and dark face full of concentration. I glanced at the clock. About 45 minutes since I had drank my mimosa. I stretched and rolled in bed, laid my head flat right next to my bucket, sure something would come up soon. I was getting blasts of electricity to the head, but the nausea was keeping me pretty grounded. I had some Buddha bar music on, and the sound of water left me with a quick vision of the bathroom well flooded, my head laying in a rising puddle of house water.
I laid down and began to think of my step father. I do not have positive feelings for him much. I realized how every since I had known him, all his (tough) actions were based on fear and insecurity. He was the type to never allow someone else to drive him, never allowed himself to not be in control, always acting like nothing could stop him. I realized that life is not about control, how if we try to hard to control it, we only limit it. I dwelled on these thoughts of him, and thought of how even though I had tried to resist and flee when I was young, I was always attached and never really found my own strength. I thought I had become much more him than I had ever realized. At this point the trip took a turn.
I had been lying down, and I called out to my girl. I wanted some bread so maybe I could hurl the nausea out of me. When I heard no response, rather the eerie quiet of everything on the other side of the door, I worried I had come to in a dream state, the light switch had been flipped on me. I sat up quickly. “Babe!!!!” I hollered out. Not a sound at all. “What the fuck!!!” I was feeling very lucid. The world appeared like a dream, but I was in full weight of my body. I looked at the bed as if I were still laying in it, though caught outside of myself. Everything was shimmering with clarity and the air was quiet. I panicked some. If I was in a dream, the thing to do would be to blast through the ceiling or appear somewhere else. Instead, thoughts of running through the house finding it empty and then running through the neighborhood frantically took hold. I was worried that if I was in a dream, how would I get back to my head? Would something trick me? Would some weird twist of dream fate occur and leave me in an inexplicable state? Just a primordial ‘coming to’ type of panic. To hallucinate or be in a strange place is one thing. But to feel as if I had just lied down and then bam popped out of my head, not knowing what weird shit would happen, ugh, it left me feeling very vulnerable. Later, near the end of my trip I translated this fear quit a bit, but we’ll get there in a moment.
For now, I sat on the bed, looking at the clock, wasn’t the time way off, the computer, didn’t I leave the keyboard the other way. I was just waiting for something ‘scary’ to happen. I decided I had to move forward. Not knowing what to expect on the other side of the door, I opened it hesitantly, but swiftly once cracked. I stepped out and saw my son in the living room. I hollered something out, and my girl heard me this time. Said she had been out in the garage. Exactly what she would say if I were in a dream. (same thing happened coming down on salvia, she affirmed her presence and I still felt like she was performing exactly the way my sub-con’ would have her) I told her I freaked out, I wanted her near. Immediately I had to run back to my room and purge. It was a quick splash, and I knew there would be more. Before I could get more up I had to purge out the other side also. I ran to the very near bathroom. Sat down and continued to purge through both sides. Through this I still questioned the reality of my state. Wondered to myself if this was ‘fake’ and I’d turn to find I had just puked next to myself. I realized I didn’t want to go any further. I asked the time, hoping it wouldn’t keep me long. I asked for a warm bath. This felt cold so I drained it and made it hot. I felt lucid still in the tub, like if I relaxed I might wake to find myself spinning down the drain, into the void, and I was very afraid to depart.
This is scary but frustrating. I have attachment issues, relationship and commitment struggles, and am not quite comfortable with my place in life. Before journeying, I tell myself I’m ready for the other side, ready to detach myself from my anchors and troubles. Then at the first hint of actually being present in the other side, I lose my nerve and cry out, like a baby for mother. This is not what I want. I want to be a strong one. I enjoy ambiguity and aimlessness. I have been in one long relationship that I’ve attempted to leave multiple times. I resist myself and my psychotic state worsens. But in the grips of a bad experience, I’m thankful and forgiving that I have someone to hold me through.
Still, I can’t help but feel that my soul yearns for an awesome strength on it’s own, unbound by explanations and questions and dues to others (we all have dues, but how we are able to deal with karma is limitless). We are all different here, and I don’t think anyone can tell me specifically what is ‘good‘. But I find myself more aligned with personas that resist long and grounded relationships. In my eyes, I’m a Kerouac or something, not a home body looking for love, but a road spirit looking for life. This is a feeling I remember when very young. The call of adventure and continuous change, the constantly rolling over in search of infinite beauty. These experiences show me how completely attached I’ve become, almost all out of the fear of not knowing what to do next, or hurting others. My journals are filled with ideas of destroying guilt, all life is selfish, even love, gathered up for us by us, and that first, one must harm that which he loves if one wants to grow. The rose sheds many blossoms, and takes many cuts, before it produces much more. But I have not been hunting myself out, only allowing endless ‘love/attachment’ to grow. But it’s an angry love, a hurt and spiteful love.
The rest of the trip I just waited out. I couldn’t stand to be still for too long in one position, as my conscious was just questioning the reality of everything. Some paranoia, wanting to get out of the house, see more normal stuff. About 4 hours after the start, I felt pretty baseline, but still apprehensive that I might be out of my body. I reflected on my experience. So what if I was in a dream, why did I allow that to make it so scary? Because weird shit happens in dreams, you never know what’s going to happen. Ah, I thought, I see. Life is strange too. We get complacent. But there is always a nearby story of something surreal happening to someone else. Strange shit COULD occur at any time in a dream, but also could in ‘real’ life. I took this fear as a sign to realize that you never know when that moment of ‘breaking’ will occur. That you have to face that life could throw you a curveball at any moment. And that neither life nor the dream are more real, but rather just different states/places. I accepted and moved past my fear of what if this or that is a dream. What if? Does it mean more or less? No I decided, whatever my consciousness takes in, that’s just it. I was still slightly apprehensive.
I was having all sorts of small insights, while trying to watch Willow with the family. I was very distracted, realizing that the thoughts of my step father culminated in my purge. Fascinated by the experience, because as I resisted early, I couldn’t help but think I was going to get so little healing out of it, that I turned down the chance to embrace freedom. But here I was gaining invaluably. I was not saying Stop being afraid, but rather actually letting go, and just deeply accepting, I am afraid. Still, a slight nervousness and anxiety in the gut. Until I realized something dark and quite meaningful.
I thought back to a dream I had had two nights before. It was very detailed and also long, I‘ll try to keep it simple here.
I remember being in an underground type facility, being questioned in a room, by speakers I could not discern. Questions of sexuality, intent, morals. To get down to this ‘interrogation’ room, I had to walk through a freezer in a grocery and go down stairs.
So somehow later in the dream a lady is leading me, my girl, and our child here. And on the way into the store I realize where she is taking us. I become anxious, I try to go with it, to say what more could they want, it’s just another scheduled ‘looking into‘. But as we got to the freezer door and this old lady opened it, I quickly thought ‘No, why would they want me again, of course they want to do more, of course they want to take it further!’ Who knows what they will try this time while I’m there. I grab a paper from the lady’s hand and run, my family already descending, I left them. In another aisle I rip this paper up and try to toss it. The store is populating now, and people are looking for me. I explain I’ve done nothing wrong and must be on my way.
Out of the store, I break into a crowded hall. Someone congratulates an acquaintance on his fame or performance of something, and by this I‘m frustrated. This figure had featured earlier in the dream, in similar fashion, taking praise from others. (it’s a weakness I’ve sought to leave behind, seeking the praise of people, but by the message in this dream it’s obviously still there) I bump past him and them in this crowded hall, and move quickly, like I feel I’m being chased. All my dreams consist of indulging in sex/drugs/excitement, or being chased by some type of agents. Countless places and over and over, something wants me, and I evade it running into glass elevators jumping off buildings, etc.
I ran down the hall, left into a bathroom, yellowed and small, much like one from an old family house. I don’t remember sitting for a shit, but I remember reaching in and tearing up paper. I don’t know if it was evidence of me, or again the paper from the old lady’s hand, but even with poo on it, I tore and tore it while flushing. I turned the shower on, all in a frenzy. I get in. About 1 minute into the shower, and low and behold a shadow crosses the ceiling as the door opens. I’m found. I awake. For the first time ever, I have run into a place where I cannot escape. For the first time ever, my shadow has trapped me, found me, defenseless. Putting this into perspective with my fears of the trip produced the most alleviating feeling I could imagine. A moment later all anxiety and gut feeling was gone. Tears ran down my face.
Later I console myself by saying whatever I have to face has to face me also. Whatever seeks to stare into me, also has to take my stare. I tried to strengthen myself with the idea. Though I still feel incredibly weak in front of whatever seeks me.
