MYCOPAX
After my MYCOMYSTERIUM experience, I felt the strong urge to reconcile myself with my dear friends, the little children, princes, the bald ones, the cubes that square us one up to higher powers, the little voices…
I wanted to recreate more or less the same conditions, adding a couple of variants to slightly alter the experience and add assurance that the scales would tip favorably; so I was at my chalet, alone, on a sunny day’s end when I dosed the fungus at exactly 5pm. The changes were as follows : 1 hour 45 minutes prior I had swallowed 10 little peruvian torch resin globs, totalling 5.3g, and a cup of coffee 1 hour later to potentiate the mescaline and stave off the mushroom sleepies; the dose this time was 2.2g of a familiar, homegrown fungus – a mix of 0.6g F+, and 1.6g Golden Teacher.
At 5 :30pm I began the walk around the 2 acres of my land, exactly as I had previously; I arrived at the place I call the junction and laid down the same grandmotherly blanket and prostrated myself upon it, exactly as I had done before, eyes skyward and legs akimbo.
The mescaline was subtle - light waves of tingling wellness and beatitude; the little ones latched on for the ride and things began their transforming within and without : what SYNERGASM! I decided to try a piece of advice given to me on the nexus chat by Cellux , refering me to an adyashanti video (really not my thing, but sometimes my things are things that prevent other things from being things, SO…).
I was restfully aware, clearing the clutter and clatter and banishing the chatter that ordinarily webs and waters and batters my thoughts. I could not hold the state long, but the mutating clouds above certainly helped focus my attention and prolong the calm. If ever angels be, they were flitting in those clouds that day :
I saw winged wisps and vapourous visages somervaulting from irridescent tendril to thin cottony spiral…
Ahh what peace there can be!! What utter calm and transcendent absence, inhabiting my being and singing the silent song of endlessness :::
O There, the OTher…
But of course, it ended; the chatter resumed, albeit quieted like a child reprimanded. And I stood. And reminded myself :
Don’t forget to connect the DISCONNECT.
Standing staring through the trees at the lake beyond, I realize :
The moment the lake ceases to be a LAKE and the trees TREES, in this moment there is meaning. We need to strip away all the boxes and parcels, move house, MOVE EM OUT DA WAY, discard the meaning we attribute to arrive at a truly meaningful moment. And then, of course, move back into the emptied house.
.KNOW the LEDGE-0
._Ledge;_1
._Know_1
.__It, see__2
.___It, teeter ___3
._____At It’s edge, but know_____5
.________We shall go no further until ________8
._____________ it’s TIME to go where the ledge leads, past the know to BE_____________13
And then I went back to the gallery that circles my chalet, and all of the FOLLOWING poured/poored/pored/pureed out of me :
The silence is Replete
Turgid
BURSTING
fullof the unheard
And who wants to hear the heard?
Who wants the herd to here?
Who wants the air houred?
Live your own time
Make your own silence
And have it heard
All here-ing beg ins wit thin,
So thin the wit to beg within
And the here-ing within shall bellow out,
And speak loudest.
And when it speaks,
Done knot forge-get two con-necked thud is co-necked
Only in solitude is the plenty
Appreciated
WEIGHED
Understood
APPREHENDED
I stood under my comprehension in the solitude of the plentiful.
When words fail, fail words
We are words, but words are the we that must be abandoned to find the US
STROLL, LAUGH. Words, fail. Fail words. Sdrowl laif.
I am the mirror that absorbs.
I am a wave that was a particle that waved, way-ved part-I-call the soul.
THE PARTICLE MYSELF :
The part I call mice-elf is not the sole way-ve,
Until I need to call it a part.
And then I wave, and I am no longer a part
I call a wave.
I am I. Maya. Ayam Maya. Both and neither.
Hello, place to meetcha
Place to me to you
PLAYS TOMB EAT YA.
I am the order in N-trapeze
The chaos in N-shall be
The entropy in Awe-rder
& the enthalpy in Key-us
I am gravity
I am loss
I am light
I am US.
I am merely a word in a mind that knows not itself.
I am divine,
I am a part of divinity
Eden Ive had a trap ‘o maya,
Ayam o’ part a dahevenede
I AM A PART OF DIVINITY
Imagine the space between the source and the echo. That is me. That is where we all reside.
I am the beat between rhythm and arhythmia,
Search for me between sounds, between moments, between tocks in the silent room.
Bet we e’en; Even, we bet.
:::::::: ::::::::
There is a man on a dock. I see him from my vantage on the dock.
Is he there to take flight or to rest? Leaving or arriving?
He is joined by another.
A pair of docks.
Oh. You thought I meant another man. (what you meant and what you (thought I) meant)
No he was joined by a pair of docks.
One his body. One his mind.
One arriving, one leaving behind.
A paradox.
How pull awe-ful!
p-law foul
Pllafl
Playful
Foul play
Hear not with these ears, for they are flaweD,
Here not with these I’s, for they obscure(d)
Hair not with these fingers, for broken they be,
Higher only with the mind that is still
And the you that is ME
That is still
The mind
Till still’s till ‘n the mined no more
The mined is not aS and, but as Ore.
The’yre’s all waves chawyce in Ores
Wherea S and slips twixt the finn-gores.
Language is the tongue that laps at my mind. And while delectable, tis the savour that dissimulates the simulation.
When I dull the clatter around, for a brief moment, I hear the mechanism of the universe. I apprehend its silence.
VOLUMINOUS.
Poetry is the efficacious employment of words to express & access the divine. There is no 3rd person in poetry. Poetry is I.
POW! A TREE!!
Pow a tree is eye.
POW! A TREE EYE SEE!!
If EYE am divine and employ myself efficaciously, I shall reside in poetry. Poetry is the wealth in poverty of words; less is more; the min is max, the cosmos a grain of sand, the universe a mind.
I am no more than these words.
Nor. Are. You.
You. Are. Poetry.
:::::::: ::::::::
I spend my days lost in a cloud of filth; lift the filth and enjoy the noise, for the choice for noise is an acknowledgment of silence, an admitting of the still that moves. And it moves through you, electric and vapourous.
Always remember that all (ways you remember) and ALL that you remember is nothing when stacked against ALL that has been forgotten.
Amidst the shouts and tears and laughter
And all the multifarious cries of life
I hear a voice that whispers love and strife
And wails the slippery and adamantine truth :
That whether by decay or accident or rage or noose
Where I was before, this is where I shall go after……….
ENJOY. EVERY. BRIEF. MOMENT. OF. YOUR. EXISTENCE. AS. IT. PASSES. FROM. THE. FUTURE. THROUGH. YOU. AND. BEYOND. MEMORY.
Do not miss the time to dance, for once missed it dances on without and within.
A bark is a dog’s way of imposing some sense over the universe; I am J. J is I’s closest neighbour;
I AM JBArk, and what I bark is words to my bite. Thanks for letting me sink my teeth in.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This trip I would characterize as less profound and more playful; although I have noted that the two are not necessarily exclusive. I have exorcised the demon I created and made my peace with the fungus.
After my MYCOMYSTERIUM experience, I felt the strong urge to reconcile myself with my dear friends, the little children, princes, the bald ones, the cubes that square us one up to higher powers, the little voices…
I wanted to recreate more or less the same conditions, adding a couple of variants to slightly alter the experience and add assurance that the scales would tip favorably; so I was at my chalet, alone, on a sunny day’s end when I dosed the fungus at exactly 5pm. The changes were as follows : 1 hour 45 minutes prior I had swallowed 10 little peruvian torch resin globs, totalling 5.3g, and a cup of coffee 1 hour later to potentiate the mescaline and stave off the mushroom sleepies; the dose this time was 2.2g of a familiar, homegrown fungus – a mix of 0.6g F+, and 1.6g Golden Teacher.
At 5 :30pm I began the walk around the 2 acres of my land, exactly as I had previously; I arrived at the place I call the junction and laid down the same grandmotherly blanket and prostrated myself upon it, exactly as I had done before, eyes skyward and legs akimbo.
The mescaline was subtle - light waves of tingling wellness and beatitude; the little ones latched on for the ride and things began their transforming within and without : what SYNERGASM! I decided to try a piece of advice given to me on the nexus chat by Cellux , refering me to an adyashanti video (really not my thing, but sometimes my things are things that prevent other things from being things, SO…).
I was restfully aware, clearing the clutter and clatter and banishing the chatter that ordinarily webs and waters and batters my thoughts. I could not hold the state long, but the mutating clouds above certainly helped focus my attention and prolong the calm. If ever angels be, they were flitting in those clouds that day :
I saw winged wisps and vapourous visages somervaulting from irridescent tendril to thin cottony spiral…
Ahh what peace there can be!! What utter calm and transcendent absence, inhabiting my being and singing the silent song of endlessness :::
O There, the OTher…
But of course, it ended; the chatter resumed, albeit quieted like a child reprimanded. And I stood. And reminded myself :
Don’t forget to connect the DISCONNECT.
Standing staring through the trees at the lake beyond, I realize :
The moment the lake ceases to be a LAKE and the trees TREES, in this moment there is meaning. We need to strip away all the boxes and parcels, move house, MOVE EM OUT DA WAY, discard the meaning we attribute to arrive at a truly meaningful moment. And then, of course, move back into the emptied house.
.KNOW the LEDGE-0
._Ledge;_1
._Know_1
.__It, see__2
.___It, teeter ___3
._____At It’s edge, but know_____5
.________We shall go no further until ________8
._____________ it’s TIME to go where the ledge leads, past the know to BE_____________13
And then I went back to the gallery that circles my chalet, and all of the FOLLOWING poured/poored/pored/pureed out of me :
The silence is Replete
Turgid
BURSTING
fullof the unheard
And who wants to hear the heard?
Who wants the herd to here?
Who wants the air houred?
Live your own time
Make your own silence
And have it heard
All here-ing beg ins wit thin,
So thin the wit to beg within
And the here-ing within shall bellow out,
And speak loudest.
And when it speaks,
Done knot forge-get two con-necked thud is co-necked
Only in solitude is the plenty
Appreciated
WEIGHED
Understood
APPREHENDED
I stood under my comprehension in the solitude of the plentiful.
When words fail, fail words
We are words, but words are the we that must be abandoned to find the US
STROLL, LAUGH. Words, fail. Fail words. Sdrowl laif.
I am the mirror that absorbs.
I am a wave that was a particle that waved, way-ved part-I-call the soul.
THE PARTICLE MYSELF :
The part I call mice-elf is not the sole way-ve,
Until I need to call it a part.
And then I wave, and I am no longer a part
I call a wave.
I am I. Maya. Ayam Maya. Both and neither.
Hello, place to meetcha
Place to me to you
PLAYS TOMB EAT YA.
I am the order in N-trapeze
The chaos in N-shall be
The entropy in Awe-rder
& the enthalpy in Key-us
I am gravity
I am loss
I am light
I am US.
I am merely a word in a mind that knows not itself.
I am divine,
I am a part of divinity
Eden Ive had a trap ‘o maya,
Ayam o’ part a dahevenede
I AM A PART OF DIVINITY
Imagine the space between the source and the echo. That is me. That is where we all reside.
I am the beat between rhythm and arhythmia,
Search for me between sounds, between moments, between tocks in the silent room.
Bet we e’en; Even, we bet.
:::::::: ::::::::
There is a man on a dock. I see him from my vantage on the dock.
Is he there to take flight or to rest? Leaving or arriving?
He is joined by another.
A pair of docks.
Oh. You thought I meant another man. (what you meant and what you (thought I) meant)
No he was joined by a pair of docks.
One his body. One his mind.
One arriving, one leaving behind.
A paradox.
How pull awe-ful!
p-law foul
Pllafl
Playful
Foul play
Hear not with these ears, for they are flaweD,
Here not with these I’s, for they obscure(d)
Hair not with these fingers, for broken they be,
Higher only with the mind that is still
And the you that is ME
That is still
The mind
Till still’s till ‘n the mined no more
The mined is not aS and, but as Ore.
The’yre’s all waves chawyce in Ores
Wherea S and slips twixt the finn-gores.
Language is the tongue that laps at my mind. And while delectable, tis the savour that dissimulates the simulation.
When I dull the clatter around, for a brief moment, I hear the mechanism of the universe. I apprehend its silence.
VOLUMINOUS.
Poetry is the efficacious employment of words to express & access the divine. There is no 3rd person in poetry. Poetry is I.
POW! A TREE!!
Pow a tree is eye.
POW! A TREE EYE SEE!!
If EYE am divine and employ myself efficaciously, I shall reside in poetry. Poetry is the wealth in poverty of words; less is more; the min is max, the cosmos a grain of sand, the universe a mind.
I am no more than these words.
Nor. Are. You.
You. Are. Poetry.
:::::::: ::::::::
I spend my days lost in a cloud of filth; lift the filth and enjoy the noise, for the choice for noise is an acknowledgment of silence, an admitting of the still that moves. And it moves through you, electric and vapourous.
Always remember that all (ways you remember) and ALL that you remember is nothing when stacked against ALL that has been forgotten.
Amidst the shouts and tears and laughter
And all the multifarious cries of life
I hear a voice that whispers love and strife
And wails the slippery and adamantine truth :
That whether by decay or accident or rage or noose
Where I was before, this is where I shall go after……….
ENJOY. EVERY. BRIEF. MOMENT. OF. YOUR. EXISTENCE. AS. IT. PASSES. FROM. THE. FUTURE. THROUGH. YOU. AND. BEYOND. MEMORY.
Do not miss the time to dance, for once missed it dances on without and within.
A bark is a dog’s way of imposing some sense over the universe; I am J. J is I’s closest neighbour;
I AM JBArk, and what I bark is words to my bite. Thanks for letting me sink my teeth in.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This trip I would characterize as less profound and more playful; although I have noted that the two are not necessarily exclusive. I have exorcised the demon I created and made my peace with the fungus.
