Something I've been wanting to do for a while but never actually got around to was to stare at a uniform line grid during a DMT trip to help understand more precisely the visual effects of DMT. I couldn't find any graph paper lying around, so I drew a grid using a straight edge and permanent marker. I figured different regimes of size and elongation might be useful, so I left out some lines as you can see in the attached.
What I thought I would see is the grid morph and transform during the DMT come-up but, to my surprise, the grid didn't really change at all. Instead, something appeared beyond the grid that my eye was drawn to. It was a large white room with a spiral staircase. On the staircase was some sort of fascinating object: A patterned shimmering box. I moved my head from side to side, using parallax to confirm that what I was seeing did indeed exist beyond the grid. I tried to move closer to the object, but eventually my face touched the grid (literally, my head rested on the paper as I gazed past it). The grid was like a cage, separating me from the room and object. I intended the structure I had drawn to be elucidating, but rather it was restricting. At some point I realized that I was being taught a lesson about the transcendence of the DMT experience, but by whom? It's as though there was a magician behind the scenes, and he used his masterful art of distraction to show me that my will is feeble.
Understanding the experience is futile, as it consists of pure irony. It's irony levels are off the charts. Every attempt at willpower will ultimately undercut itself. If you try to make something of the DMT experience, it will instead make that thing of you.
What I thought I would see is the grid morph and transform during the DMT come-up but, to my surprise, the grid didn't really change at all. Instead, something appeared beyond the grid that my eye was drawn to. It was a large white room with a spiral staircase. On the staircase was some sort of fascinating object: A patterned shimmering box. I moved my head from side to side, using parallax to confirm that what I was seeing did indeed exist beyond the grid. I tried to move closer to the object, but eventually my face touched the grid (literally, my head rested on the paper as I gazed past it). The grid was like a cage, separating me from the room and object. I intended the structure I had drawn to be elucidating, but rather it was restricting. At some point I realized that I was being taught a lesson about the transcendence of the DMT experience, but by whom? It's as though there was a magician behind the scenes, and he used his masterful art of distraction to show me that my will is feeble.
Understanding the experience is futile, as it consists of pure irony. It's irony levels are off the charts. Every attempt at willpower will ultimately undercut itself. If you try to make something of the DMT experience, it will instead make that thing of you.
