Greetings, my fellow psychonauts!
Ever since I was a child, I remember being fascinated with learning the most extreme or alien languages, such as morse code or music, because I felt the desire to break free from concepts. I think this is because I observed people trapped in what Terence McKenna calls "nitwit ideologies," unhappy, but not ever realizing they were unhappy.
In my early 30s, I did some hardcore meditation (Mahasi noting), which gave me a lot of practice using the mind to do uncommon things.
In my late 30s, a couple of years ago, I smoked cannabis for the first time. I always smoke a very small amount, and it has what other users consider a very unusual effect on me. It allows me to let my mind roam and come up with insights.
After a few dozen experiences of that kind, I felt ready for DMT.
For the first few days, I did sub-breakthrough doses. I saw very intricate patterns and new colors, had short-lived feelings of slight nausea, warmth, euphoria, disconnection from the body, probably just the usual stuff anyone will occasionally experience with sub-breakthrough doses of DMT. Two things about those experiences surprised me: (1) The visuals were not nearly as impressive as I had imagined they would be, although they were very, very solid-looking and "perfect." (2) I literally seem to have gained no insight whatsoever. Almost every cannabis experience taught me something, but the DMT sub-breakthroughs taught me absolutely nothing about the nature of reality.
Then one evening, I decided to do a breakthrough dose in three hits (freebase, GVG), but chickened out after the second hit because it felt like I was going to faint or be sick. I felt like a coward and had a strong sub-breakthrough experience that was similar to the others.
Two days later, I tried to breakthrough in one big hit, and it worked. To my surprise I found that, if you inhale a large enough dose, by the time you're finished inhaling, or within a couple of seconds thereafter, holding it in becomes totally effortless. There is absolutely no feeling like you might have to cough, and it feels like you could sit still forever, like you would never need any air anymore. After what I thought might have been approximately 20 to 30 seconds of holding it in, I decided to start breathing again, not because it felt like I was out of air, but because it felt like I would never have that feeling of being out of air again, so I just decided to breathe again after what rationally seemed long enough. Shortly thereafter, I must have broken through, but I don't remember the details, probably because of what I was about to do next.
At the end of this (presumably) break-through trip, as the physical effects had just about stopped, so probably after maybe 5 to 15 minutes, I decided to immediately go back. This time I took a much bigger hit than before. By the time I had finished inhaling, holding it was already completely effortless. Then I had the kind of terrifying trip that some of you have described when taking "too high" a dose. I am going to attempt to describe it.
I went all the way out and was gone forever. Most of you probably quite readily understand the "forever" part, since linear time seems to be one of the first concepts to go on DMT. What I mean by "all the way out" is, I think, what Terence McKenna refers to as "the center of the DMT flash." I actually looked up the relevant quote after the trip: "No, you're never prepared, because, in fact, and I mentioned this last night, something goes on in the DMT flash that I don't think anyone can bring back. There is, at the core of the experience, something is revealed that is so appalling that nobody can bring it back into ordinary reality, and that's why—it's hard to understand because as you know I've done it a number of times, and every time I approach it, it scares me shitless. I cannot approach it any other way, and it's physical, I mean, my palms sweat, I can't hold the pipe, my hand shakes, I wish I hadn't gotten myself into this situation. I fear it like death itself. That's the clue, folks."
He goes on to speculate that the appalling truth we see (and can't remember afterwards) is that the DMT entities are the souls of dead people. I have an alternative explanation: What DMT actually seems to do is render all concepts meaningless.
As an aside, this is how I grossly underestimated the experience. I thought DMT would sort of disconnect the mind from the body, thereby allowing the mind to access the next higher (or lower) reality. What it turns out it actually does is apparently totally obliterate every concept that comprises this reality or any other reality.
So back to what I now think the "center of the DMT flash" is and why we can't bring anything back from it: DMT takes us into modes of existence where some of the concepts we have in conventional reality simply do not apply / do not exist / do not make sense at all. Pretty early on, I as the specific human being I am in conventional reality stop existing or mattering. The concept of me simply doesn't apply anymore. Soon the concept of human does not apply anymore. In those modes of existence, you don't even remember what "human" is. As you go deeper, or rather, get thrown deeper, at some point there is no more concept of "individuals" or "beings." So now, not only are you no longer you, or human, but now you're no longer an individual. There is no such thing as an individual in that mode of being. Going all the way on DMT entails the dropping away of ALL concepts we have in this reality. The last one (or maybe one of the last ones) to go is the concept of experience itself. Once you pass the point, and I did, where even concepts such as experience have no meaning, there is simply no way to relate what's in there to conventional reality in any way. That's why we can't bring anything back. You can't say there was someone, because the concept of someone doesn't apply anymore. You can't even say there was experience, because the concept of experience no longer applies. That sort of "experience horizon" marks the limit of what can be related to conventional reality. It's not just that you can't talk about it, but you can't think about it or imagine it. It's simply too far from this (conventional) mode of being.
Anyway, I obviously don't remember anything from that center of the flash, but I honestly don't remember anything between holding in that huge hit and coming back from "all the way out there" "for an eternity." However, at some point along the way of coming back, I remember this:
That realm (mode of existence) had color, specifically there was a lot of green. There was form. It was very solid and hard and sharp and crisp. There was orthogonality. There was close observation and total equanimity. Someone else on here called what I call equanimity "profound indifference." It's not indifference in the sense of a teenager saying "Whatever!" I would consider that a form of aversion, not indifference. That profound indifference or equanimity is marked by total closeness in observation BECAUSE there is neither aversion nor clinging of any kind. In the beginning (of my passage through that particular place, coming down from the high point of the DMT flash) the concepts of beings, linear time, unpleasantness, fear didn't yet exist. However, they then started appearing. As soon as there was the potential for the existence of separate or individual or specific living beings, it felt as if "the other" was huge and I was small. It/he was so indifferent, but watching me so closely. It felt very hard and matter-of-fact. Sort of like, "This is the true nature of reality, whether you like it or not, and you don't like it." As I already sort of just mentioned, as soon as the potential for unpleasantness returned, there was unpleasantness. I then started breaking through to linear time, but it sort of switched back and forth a few times. I remember thinking, "Oh no, I can only hold on to this linear time for a few moments, very shortly I'll drop back up into that realm where linear time does not apply, where this unpleasant hardness is, where I will spend another eternity (due to the absence of linear time), and I did. Eventually more and more conventional concepts reappeared: I remembered specific individuals (myself, my father, my girlfriend), first without having any idea what exactly my relationship to them was. I didn't even know which one of them was myself. I also didn't know which ones of them were physically present. Around this stage, I said (and I'm pretty certain my physical mouth said those words) things like "All is well," but as I was speaking the words, I couldn't understand them. I noticed I was breathing, and it made me very happy, because I knew with each breath a significant portion of the trip was passing. I saw the room clearly, without any distortion, other than it seemed much larger than I knew it was. However, I did not know what the function of the power outlet was, or what the function of the bathroom door was. It then started coming back. It felt like reality was reassembling itself in blocks. When I remembered enough to walk to the other room and call my girlfriend on the phone, I did. She said, even at that point, I sounded completely normal. All my sentences were syntactically correct, one language, spoken at a normal speed etc. However, I still did not know what day of the week it was or what things I had planned for the coming week or anything like that, nor did I really care. It seems, though, that, whenever I asked myself a question like, "What day of the week is it?" I was then able to somehow find the answer within a few seconds.
Basically it felt like I had been gone for many years. It's just like when you spend a year or two living in a city and you get to know all the major thoroughfares. Then you move away for 20 years. When you think back to that city, you may remember some street names, but have no recollection of how they connect to each other. Still, if you go back, you'll find you way again pretty quickly. That's how it was with me returning to this reality. After a day, it started feeling more normal again.
It's only been a few days, but so far I have learned about the nature of equanimity vs what most would call "indifference," but is really a (subtle) form of aversion; about how linear time and individual existence are not nearly as fundamental as I had previously thought; about how consciousness and experience extend vastly farther than individual existence (not my own specific life, but the potential for individual existence per se). Most of all, I have an idea, an understanding of how DMT can (and did) take one "all the way." Yes, there are a lot of things I haven't seen. I've never been to Berlin, for example, or talked to machine elves, but I've been to the farthest point (or one of them). I have "transcended" all concepts that exist in conventional reality, or so it feels. In that sense, there is no need for anything stronger than DMT. There couldn't actually be anything stronger than DMT. Whatever concept you wish to be free from, DMT can get you there. It's as simple as that. You may not like it—in fact, you probably won't—but DMT can take you there.
Another thing has occurred to me: Whereas I previously thought that the only reason I was still human was some sort of inertia of the body, I now understand much better that the reason I am still human is that, in the face of at least one other mode of existence, I felt afraid and felt the desire to return to my former, less real, less hard, less terrifying existence. (At the time (or maybe I should say: in that place, since linear time did not yet exist, but space of some sort did), I had no memory of what it meant to be human, just a vague feeling that there was something less harsh that I had blasted off from.) In short, I'm still human because I'm uncomfortable outside the human mode of existence.
One thing that seems very obvious to me now, but that I think is not stated enough is this: Nobody can ever be ready for a large dose of DMT. If the best prepared person on this planet is ready for a 10 and the least prepared for a 1 (in terms of how far from conventional reality they are ready to go), then that large dose is going to take you to maybe 100,000. It really is that bad.
Whether it is good or bad in the literal sense, I can't say. I don't know if I'm ever going back, either to a regular breakthrough or a high-dose breakthrough like that terrifying experience I just described. I probably will. However, I am not very fond of the circus-like quality, especially not after that last trip.
I think I might do mushrooms next. I would really like to talk to the mushroom. From what I have read and heard, there can be an actual dialog, and whatever the intelligence might be that you contact, I am interested in it.
Thank you for reading. I know it was kind of long, but I hear DMT tends to do that.
Soft regards,
kleinphi
Ever since I was a child, I remember being fascinated with learning the most extreme or alien languages, such as morse code or music, because I felt the desire to break free from concepts. I think this is because I observed people trapped in what Terence McKenna calls "nitwit ideologies," unhappy, but not ever realizing they were unhappy.
In my early 30s, I did some hardcore meditation (Mahasi noting), which gave me a lot of practice using the mind to do uncommon things.
In my late 30s, a couple of years ago, I smoked cannabis for the first time. I always smoke a very small amount, and it has what other users consider a very unusual effect on me. It allows me to let my mind roam and come up with insights.
After a few dozen experiences of that kind, I felt ready for DMT.
For the first few days, I did sub-breakthrough doses. I saw very intricate patterns and new colors, had short-lived feelings of slight nausea, warmth, euphoria, disconnection from the body, probably just the usual stuff anyone will occasionally experience with sub-breakthrough doses of DMT. Two things about those experiences surprised me: (1) The visuals were not nearly as impressive as I had imagined they would be, although they were very, very solid-looking and "perfect." (2) I literally seem to have gained no insight whatsoever. Almost every cannabis experience taught me something, but the DMT sub-breakthroughs taught me absolutely nothing about the nature of reality.
Then one evening, I decided to do a breakthrough dose in three hits (freebase, GVG), but chickened out after the second hit because it felt like I was going to faint or be sick. I felt like a coward and had a strong sub-breakthrough experience that was similar to the others.
Two days later, I tried to breakthrough in one big hit, and it worked. To my surprise I found that, if you inhale a large enough dose, by the time you're finished inhaling, or within a couple of seconds thereafter, holding it in becomes totally effortless. There is absolutely no feeling like you might have to cough, and it feels like you could sit still forever, like you would never need any air anymore. After what I thought might have been approximately 20 to 30 seconds of holding it in, I decided to start breathing again, not because it felt like I was out of air, but because it felt like I would never have that feeling of being out of air again, so I just decided to breathe again after what rationally seemed long enough. Shortly thereafter, I must have broken through, but I don't remember the details, probably because of what I was about to do next.
At the end of this (presumably) break-through trip, as the physical effects had just about stopped, so probably after maybe 5 to 15 minutes, I decided to immediately go back. This time I took a much bigger hit than before. By the time I had finished inhaling, holding it was already completely effortless. Then I had the kind of terrifying trip that some of you have described when taking "too high" a dose. I am going to attempt to describe it.
I went all the way out and was gone forever. Most of you probably quite readily understand the "forever" part, since linear time seems to be one of the first concepts to go on DMT. What I mean by "all the way out" is, I think, what Terence McKenna refers to as "the center of the DMT flash." I actually looked up the relevant quote after the trip: "No, you're never prepared, because, in fact, and I mentioned this last night, something goes on in the DMT flash that I don't think anyone can bring back. There is, at the core of the experience, something is revealed that is so appalling that nobody can bring it back into ordinary reality, and that's why—it's hard to understand because as you know I've done it a number of times, and every time I approach it, it scares me shitless. I cannot approach it any other way, and it's physical, I mean, my palms sweat, I can't hold the pipe, my hand shakes, I wish I hadn't gotten myself into this situation. I fear it like death itself. That's the clue, folks."
He goes on to speculate that the appalling truth we see (and can't remember afterwards) is that the DMT entities are the souls of dead people. I have an alternative explanation: What DMT actually seems to do is render all concepts meaningless.
As an aside, this is how I grossly underestimated the experience. I thought DMT would sort of disconnect the mind from the body, thereby allowing the mind to access the next higher (or lower) reality. What it turns out it actually does is apparently totally obliterate every concept that comprises this reality or any other reality.
So back to what I now think the "center of the DMT flash" is and why we can't bring anything back from it: DMT takes us into modes of existence where some of the concepts we have in conventional reality simply do not apply / do not exist / do not make sense at all. Pretty early on, I as the specific human being I am in conventional reality stop existing or mattering. The concept of me simply doesn't apply anymore. Soon the concept of human does not apply anymore. In those modes of existence, you don't even remember what "human" is. As you go deeper, or rather, get thrown deeper, at some point there is no more concept of "individuals" or "beings." So now, not only are you no longer you, or human, but now you're no longer an individual. There is no such thing as an individual in that mode of being. Going all the way on DMT entails the dropping away of ALL concepts we have in this reality. The last one (or maybe one of the last ones) to go is the concept of experience itself. Once you pass the point, and I did, where even concepts such as experience have no meaning, there is simply no way to relate what's in there to conventional reality in any way. That's why we can't bring anything back. You can't say there was someone, because the concept of someone doesn't apply anymore. You can't even say there was experience, because the concept of experience no longer applies. That sort of "experience horizon" marks the limit of what can be related to conventional reality. It's not just that you can't talk about it, but you can't think about it or imagine it. It's simply too far from this (conventional) mode of being.
Anyway, I obviously don't remember anything from that center of the flash, but I honestly don't remember anything between holding in that huge hit and coming back from "all the way out there" "for an eternity." However, at some point along the way of coming back, I remember this:
That realm (mode of existence) had color, specifically there was a lot of green. There was form. It was very solid and hard and sharp and crisp. There was orthogonality. There was close observation and total equanimity. Someone else on here called what I call equanimity "profound indifference." It's not indifference in the sense of a teenager saying "Whatever!" I would consider that a form of aversion, not indifference. That profound indifference or equanimity is marked by total closeness in observation BECAUSE there is neither aversion nor clinging of any kind. In the beginning (of my passage through that particular place, coming down from the high point of the DMT flash) the concepts of beings, linear time, unpleasantness, fear didn't yet exist. However, they then started appearing. As soon as there was the potential for the existence of separate or individual or specific living beings, it felt as if "the other" was huge and I was small. It/he was so indifferent, but watching me so closely. It felt very hard and matter-of-fact. Sort of like, "This is the true nature of reality, whether you like it or not, and you don't like it." As I already sort of just mentioned, as soon as the potential for unpleasantness returned, there was unpleasantness. I then started breaking through to linear time, but it sort of switched back and forth a few times. I remember thinking, "Oh no, I can only hold on to this linear time for a few moments, very shortly I'll drop back up into that realm where linear time does not apply, where this unpleasant hardness is, where I will spend another eternity (due to the absence of linear time), and I did. Eventually more and more conventional concepts reappeared: I remembered specific individuals (myself, my father, my girlfriend), first without having any idea what exactly my relationship to them was. I didn't even know which one of them was myself. I also didn't know which ones of them were physically present. Around this stage, I said (and I'm pretty certain my physical mouth said those words) things like "All is well," but as I was speaking the words, I couldn't understand them. I noticed I was breathing, and it made me very happy, because I knew with each breath a significant portion of the trip was passing. I saw the room clearly, without any distortion, other than it seemed much larger than I knew it was. However, I did not know what the function of the power outlet was, or what the function of the bathroom door was. It then started coming back. It felt like reality was reassembling itself in blocks. When I remembered enough to walk to the other room and call my girlfriend on the phone, I did. She said, even at that point, I sounded completely normal. All my sentences were syntactically correct, one language, spoken at a normal speed etc. However, I still did not know what day of the week it was or what things I had planned for the coming week or anything like that, nor did I really care. It seems, though, that, whenever I asked myself a question like, "What day of the week is it?" I was then able to somehow find the answer within a few seconds.
Basically it felt like I had been gone for many years. It's just like when you spend a year or two living in a city and you get to know all the major thoroughfares. Then you move away for 20 years. When you think back to that city, you may remember some street names, but have no recollection of how they connect to each other. Still, if you go back, you'll find you way again pretty quickly. That's how it was with me returning to this reality. After a day, it started feeling more normal again.
It's only been a few days, but so far I have learned about the nature of equanimity vs what most would call "indifference," but is really a (subtle) form of aversion; about how linear time and individual existence are not nearly as fundamental as I had previously thought; about how consciousness and experience extend vastly farther than individual existence (not my own specific life, but the potential for individual existence per se). Most of all, I have an idea, an understanding of how DMT can (and did) take one "all the way." Yes, there are a lot of things I haven't seen. I've never been to Berlin, for example, or talked to machine elves, but I've been to the farthest point (or one of them). I have "transcended" all concepts that exist in conventional reality, or so it feels. In that sense, there is no need for anything stronger than DMT. There couldn't actually be anything stronger than DMT. Whatever concept you wish to be free from, DMT can get you there. It's as simple as that. You may not like it—in fact, you probably won't—but DMT can take you there.
Another thing has occurred to me: Whereas I previously thought that the only reason I was still human was some sort of inertia of the body, I now understand much better that the reason I am still human is that, in the face of at least one other mode of existence, I felt afraid and felt the desire to return to my former, less real, less hard, less terrifying existence. (At the time (or maybe I should say: in that place, since linear time did not yet exist, but space of some sort did), I had no memory of what it meant to be human, just a vague feeling that there was something less harsh that I had blasted off from.) In short, I'm still human because I'm uncomfortable outside the human mode of existence.
One thing that seems very obvious to me now, but that I think is not stated enough is this: Nobody can ever be ready for a large dose of DMT. If the best prepared person on this planet is ready for a 10 and the least prepared for a 1 (in terms of how far from conventional reality they are ready to go), then that large dose is going to take you to maybe 100,000. It really is that bad.
Whether it is good or bad in the literal sense, I can't say. I don't know if I'm ever going back, either to a regular breakthrough or a high-dose breakthrough like that terrifying experience I just described. I probably will. However, I am not very fond of the circus-like quality, especially not after that last trip.
I think I might do mushrooms next. I would really like to talk to the mushroom. From what I have read and heard, there can be an actual dialog, and whatever the intelligence might be that you contact, I am interested in it.
Thank you for reading. I know it was kind of long, but I hear DMT tends to do that.
Soft regards,
kleinphi
bump
