The sun..it shines. The birds..they still sing....
The wind still blows and the tides still receed..Autumn is comming..the clock is still ticking along accordng to it's predetermined course as it would seem..
What is life?..no wait..where is life going?..or..where does life come from?..errrr
I cant tell you all weather Im completely lost or if I have found my way..in reality, if there is such a thing it's most likely to be a combination of both and neither at the same time. Im not here to tell anyone the truth. Im not here to tell you how it is or suggest that if you do what I do you will find youself face to face with anything that resembles this thing I feel I have spent my entire life following down the rabbit hole, constantly one step behind. I am only here to tell you all stories.
Integration?..what does that mean?..does it even have a context beyond that of a pesonal prescription?..have I "integrated"?..have I found "sanity"?..honetly I cant begin to answer those questions to a complete degree.."integrate into what?" would be my first answer..I dont see much around that I feel fit for me to integrate into. I dont accept this concentual reality we have collectivly built. I dont want to integreate into it and I dont want to partake of it. So in that sense..no I have not integrated into this place..into this prison..into this ratcage. I probly never will..
I found something else in it's place...in my lifelong reluctance to submit something else has immerged..it sits on the horizon at the edge of mind flaunting itself relentlessly..calling me..it never lets me rest..it is everywhere and it is nowhere..many here touch on it..we see it..like visionaries we catch rare glimpses of a thing that doesnt yet exist, cant yet exist..it comes to us from the dream of a place outside of time and this thing is the stuff mystics are made of..
Nothing is solid..nothing is rigid and nothing is immutable..collectivly, time is a thing not ncessarily of linear concequence..history is the process of that realization..the future is always closer than it appears..
^Read that one more..think Im sane?!..did I ever tell you all about the time I was convinced I was abducted by a human race from another star system(while sober?)..okay okay..no need to get into THAT...
My old realiy is slowly being deconstructed..I finally picked up on that..its been a slow process over the last few years with it's own peaks and valleys..from the time I drank a chalipong admixture and procceeded to hallucinate for the next week every night, to my strange occasional nightly occurances waking up in hyperspace experiencing the lives of completely other personalities and the global unified consciousness net..to living out entire reincarnation sequences in 5 second ayahuasca downloads..
Things are getting weird here for me on plant earth..
I have begun to entertain more and more this idea that the universe dreams..that synconicities between seemingly unrelated things are metaphores...symbolic gestures of relevance..manifestations of universal archetypes within the cosmic dream of reality..and it sounds crazy enough that it might just be plausible..The more I becomes conscious of the dream, the more I find I can wade through the shoreline of the vast ocean that awaits and there, where the ocean of pure, unprocessed IDEA meets with the shoreline of collapsed waveform is where you find the THING..it sits there on the horizon as you peer out towards the transition where the water always meets the sky and it does that one last dance that is never really it's last..for it does that dance forever..
And so late one thanksgiving night I sat there, peering off into this great abyss and there was this thing..doing that endless dance..softly cackling away to itself as it told me to tell new stories..tell new stories..tell new stories....to tell new stories...
Always tell new stories..
I walked alone along the gravel path leading into the heavily wooded forest on my way to the great amanita I had found the previous day and marked a trail back to only I can read. The slimy moist moss infested rainforest floor shimmered and the trees wispered faint diamonds of recollection as I struggled for a moment to find my bearings..something happened in that forest 2 weeks ago that I cant explain..as I sat there in the bush and closed my eyes hyperspace approached..
I kept walking..I walked and walked and drank more of the psilocin infused tea and sipped a bottle of pomegranite juice for potentiation..life became a great metaphore..a conglomerate of elegance..the story of my world took on a poetic ambience and I was the star of my own great drama..
The sun came out and the most radiant neon, irridescent blue sky beamed like a lazer down through the canopy. I sat down on a rock and then down, farther and farther until I was face to face with a slug marvelin at the beautiful patterns it exibited in the finest details and the rediculousily scifi eyeballs that seemed to protrude to an elaborated degree, far far away from it's head..
As I lay in bed surfing the delicate edges of the mind I found myself suddenly in the middle of a technocolor jungle scene...snakes draped around and over lianas dangling from jungle trees housing monkeys, plants and birds of all colors..people..I had never had ayahuasca produce aaringo-esque scenes in such precise detail prior..for 2 nights I lay there starng into these unimaginable dimensions as I slowly drifted off to sleep in the ayhuasca trance, to awaken the following mornng at 5am and attempt to "integrate" as I went off to work..
I spent last week dieting like a rabbit..working 8 hours a day and drinking ayahuasca 4 of those nights..
"This is pure consciousness" said the man with the clipboard that stood over me in my visions as I procceded to turn back from a tree into a human..the one within the many..
DMT is nothing short of a miracle. DMT is an art..DMT is a commitment..there is nothing easy about DMT.
I waited in anticipation for what was I was about to find to be the smoothest and most potent DMT I ever smoked..I watched and stirred the dish of sticky herbs soaked in harmalas and DMT as the acetates slowly evaporated away and when I was sure it was converted, I collected it up, let it cool down and smoked a large lungful. It was like cosmic deja vu to my first ever real DMT breakthrough. This acetate conversion feels special..I inhale what feels like nothing..yet by th time I cane even wonderif I got anything its already happeneing..the ego death is more pronounced and rapid since the body load feels nearly non existant as it begins-there is no worldy tether..
I come back blown away and in I go 3 more times in total..
Yet again..after some reluctance I sit down with some crystals and a good dose of this changa and take it all in one hit, which I dont usually do..the thing envelops me and I am presented with streaming bands of fractal information that seems to be based on a variety of various frequencies overlayed with an otherworldy depth to it..I can see though it all like peering through a series of stained glass windows that cocreate the gates of the crystal palace..through the gate lookig back, scannign me is an intelligence beyond words..beyond rational forms of contemplation..hyperspace is alive..hyperapce is alive....MY GOD HYPERSPACE IS ALIVE!!..hyperspace is alive and it's something akin to perring into a mirror and seeing a higher frequency reflection of the self peering back, completely animate..what that means I cant say, for Im just here to tell you all a few stories..
...I lay in bed, deep in the dreamlands, when a great analogy took to the stage..I wrote my own story..I changed the script....We were in the forest and had found some sort of bulding along the sea...there was a mirror..we peered in and set something loose, our reflections..they haunted us..becasue we said they did..it was a great adventure..a story to live..we had a reason to push on, so on we pushed..we were librated dreamers who decided to dream up our own conclusions..doorways where there were no doors, walls where there were once entrances..we made the rules..reality now bend to our will as we had finally risen up to inherit the task of narriators and stars of our own dramas and comedies, romances and horrors..we were in the drivers seat....
The wind still blows and the tides still receed..Autumn is comming..the clock is still ticking along accordng to it's predetermined course as it would seem..
What is life?..no wait..where is life going?..or..where does life come from?..errrr
I cant tell you all weather Im completely lost or if I have found my way..in reality, if there is such a thing it's most likely to be a combination of both and neither at the same time. Im not here to tell anyone the truth. Im not here to tell you how it is or suggest that if you do what I do you will find youself face to face with anything that resembles this thing I feel I have spent my entire life following down the rabbit hole, constantly one step behind. I am only here to tell you all stories.
Integration?..what does that mean?..does it even have a context beyond that of a pesonal prescription?..have I "integrated"?..have I found "sanity"?..honetly I cant begin to answer those questions to a complete degree.."integrate into what?" would be my first answer..I dont see much around that I feel fit for me to integrate into. I dont accept this concentual reality we have collectivly built. I dont want to integreate into it and I dont want to partake of it. So in that sense..no I have not integrated into this place..into this prison..into this ratcage. I probly never will..
I found something else in it's place...in my lifelong reluctance to submit something else has immerged..it sits on the horizon at the edge of mind flaunting itself relentlessly..calling me..it never lets me rest..it is everywhere and it is nowhere..many here touch on it..we see it..like visionaries we catch rare glimpses of a thing that doesnt yet exist, cant yet exist..it comes to us from the dream of a place outside of time and this thing is the stuff mystics are made of..
Nothing is solid..nothing is rigid and nothing is immutable..collectivly, time is a thing not ncessarily of linear concequence..history is the process of that realization..the future is always closer than it appears..
^Read that one more..think Im sane?!..did I ever tell you all about the time I was convinced I was abducted by a human race from another star system(while sober?)..okay okay..no need to get into THAT...
My old realiy is slowly being deconstructed..I finally picked up on that..its been a slow process over the last few years with it's own peaks and valleys..from the time I drank a chalipong admixture and procceeded to hallucinate for the next week every night, to my strange occasional nightly occurances waking up in hyperspace experiencing the lives of completely other personalities and the global unified consciousness net..to living out entire reincarnation sequences in 5 second ayahuasca downloads..
Things are getting weird here for me on plant earth..
I have begun to entertain more and more this idea that the universe dreams..that synconicities between seemingly unrelated things are metaphores...symbolic gestures of relevance..manifestations of universal archetypes within the cosmic dream of reality..and it sounds crazy enough that it might just be plausible..The more I becomes conscious of the dream, the more I find I can wade through the shoreline of the vast ocean that awaits and there, where the ocean of pure, unprocessed IDEA meets with the shoreline of collapsed waveform is where you find the THING..it sits there on the horizon as you peer out towards the transition where the water always meets the sky and it does that one last dance that is never really it's last..for it does that dance forever..
And so late one thanksgiving night I sat there, peering off into this great abyss and there was this thing..doing that endless dance..softly cackling away to itself as it told me to tell new stories..tell new stories..tell new stories....to tell new stories...
Always tell new stories..
I walked alone along the gravel path leading into the heavily wooded forest on my way to the great amanita I had found the previous day and marked a trail back to only I can read. The slimy moist moss infested rainforest floor shimmered and the trees wispered faint diamonds of recollection as I struggled for a moment to find my bearings..something happened in that forest 2 weeks ago that I cant explain..as I sat there in the bush and closed my eyes hyperspace approached..
I kept walking..I walked and walked and drank more of the psilocin infused tea and sipped a bottle of pomegranite juice for potentiation..life became a great metaphore..a conglomerate of elegance..the story of my world took on a poetic ambience and I was the star of my own great drama..
The sun came out and the most radiant neon, irridescent blue sky beamed like a lazer down through the canopy. I sat down on a rock and then down, farther and farther until I was face to face with a slug marvelin at the beautiful patterns it exibited in the finest details and the rediculousily scifi eyeballs that seemed to protrude to an elaborated degree, far far away from it's head..
As I lay in bed surfing the delicate edges of the mind I found myself suddenly in the middle of a technocolor jungle scene...snakes draped around and over lianas dangling from jungle trees housing monkeys, plants and birds of all colors..people..I had never had ayahuasca produce aaringo-esque scenes in such precise detail prior..for 2 nights I lay there starng into these unimaginable dimensions as I slowly drifted off to sleep in the ayhuasca trance, to awaken the following mornng at 5am and attempt to "integrate" as I went off to work..
I spent last week dieting like a rabbit..working 8 hours a day and drinking ayahuasca 4 of those nights..
"This is pure consciousness" said the man with the clipboard that stood over me in my visions as I procceded to turn back from a tree into a human..the one within the many..
DMT is nothing short of a miracle. DMT is an art..DMT is a commitment..there is nothing easy about DMT.
I waited in anticipation for what was I was about to find to be the smoothest and most potent DMT I ever smoked..I watched and stirred the dish of sticky herbs soaked in harmalas and DMT as the acetates slowly evaporated away and when I was sure it was converted, I collected it up, let it cool down and smoked a large lungful. It was like cosmic deja vu to my first ever real DMT breakthrough. This acetate conversion feels special..I inhale what feels like nothing..yet by th time I cane even wonderif I got anything its already happeneing..the ego death is more pronounced and rapid since the body load feels nearly non existant as it begins-there is no worldy tether..
I come back blown away and in I go 3 more times in total..
Yet again..after some reluctance I sit down with some crystals and a good dose of this changa and take it all in one hit, which I dont usually do..the thing envelops me and I am presented with streaming bands of fractal information that seems to be based on a variety of various frequencies overlayed with an otherworldy depth to it..I can see though it all like peering through a series of stained glass windows that cocreate the gates of the crystal palace..through the gate lookig back, scannign me is an intelligence beyond words..beyond rational forms of contemplation..hyperspace is alive..hyperapce is alive....MY GOD HYPERSPACE IS ALIVE!!..hyperspace is alive and it's something akin to perring into a mirror and seeing a higher frequency reflection of the self peering back, completely animate..what that means I cant say, for Im just here to tell you all a few stories..
...I lay in bed, deep in the dreamlands, when a great analogy took to the stage..I wrote my own story..I changed the script....We were in the forest and had found some sort of bulding along the sea...there was a mirror..we peered in and set something loose, our reflections..they haunted us..becasue we said they did..it was a great adventure..a story to live..we had a reason to push on, so on we pushed..we were librated dreamers who decided to dream up our own conclusions..doorways where there were no doors, walls where there were once entrances..we made the rules..reality now bend to our will as we had finally risen up to inherit the task of narriators and stars of our own dramas and comedies, romances and horrors..we were in the drivers seat....
