“My interest and attention in this subject was first enlisted by several of my subjects who described their sexual orgasms in vaguely familiar terms which later I remembered had been used by various writers to describe what they called the mystic experience. There were the same feelings of limitless horizons opening up to the vision, the feeling of being simultaneously more powerful and also more helpless than one ever was before, the feeling of great ecstasy and wonder and awe, the loss of placing in time and space with, finally, the conviction that something extremely importent and valuable had happened, so that the subject is to some extent transformed and strengthened even in his daily life by such experiences.”

-Maslow “The Peak (Mystic) Experience” (1970)

I’m listening to the song right now. The ten minute and twenty four second blessing that was the chorus to the most beautiful experience I can ever remember experiencing. I quietly hope it helps me recall accurately. The substance induces a dream like state. It’s like fish in a way. The harder I try to clutch the memory, the easier it slips through. I write this with an intent to net the experience. Pretend this sentence is witty and funny; this will be long and I’m hoping to keep your attention.

My first attempt was unsuccessful. We used “The Machine.” Its a 2 liter bottle with the bottom cut out and tin foil placed where the bottom once was. The intention is to seal the bottle. We placed the crystals in the center, brought a flame to the foil, and allowed the bottle to become milky. I had put more than 100mg. This should have been more than enough. For reasons unknown, I didn’t “break through”– the common expression used to describe the feeling of complete disconnect with reality.

We had a rotation. As my friends each attempted and succeeded, it was my turn again. I had used all I had on my first endeavor. With little hesitation my friend offered me his. I told him I’d be more comfortable him picking the amount we’d use considering my appetite. Too little would be more wasted, so he decided on using almost 200mg. If this wouldn’t do it, the claim people cannot build a tolerance to this drug would need revising.

I chose “What do you go home to (Mountains Mix)” as my muse for the trip. Its a long song and a trip usually lasts around five minutes. The bottle began to fill. As transparency became opaqueness, I started inhaling. One, two, three hits. Still conscious. He started torching the tin foil for more smoke. Four, five, six–she brought me water for my throat. I began laughing silently. I felt such a sense of collective and cooperative urgency to get me to break through. It was loving.

I was altered. But still conscious. I remember taking turns between swigs of water and inhalations of hot smoke. I imagine there are less harsh ways. The smoke screams of synthetic compounds. It numbs the mouth and dries the throat. I don’t think I could have managed the pain if it weren’t for the fact that the substance was kicking in. Perception was getting weird.

They tell me I took ten or eleven hits. Around eight I was starting to detach. For me, when I’m about to leave this reality on this chemical, my vision looks like its peering through stained glass like you see in churches. Light starts refracting differently. Its beauty.

Before I lost attachment, I saw something that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I looked down at my right forearm. What I saw I can’t explain by what I know about cognitive psychology. Hell, I can’t explain most of this. It was almost X-ray like. I saw what looked like the inner workings of my arm. I saw movement. I was dark blue and purple. There was energy. Nothing like shroom waves or LSD distortion. This was something else. It shocked the fuck right out of me. I knew it was time to close my eyes.

As I closed my eyes, I felt a profound emptiness around the right back part of my perception. I could hear the music. It was rich and deep and tactile. But I felt like something was wrong. I felt around my head and realized my right headphone wasn’t in. Once I fixed that tragedy, the trip began.

It was not like my first experience a couple weeks ago. That trip was high speed, intense if the word has any meaning at all, and seemingly incoherent. This adventure…no. (I think music plays a massive part in how the experience goes. My first time was accompanied by Bassnectar, this time by Explosions in the Sky.)

I remember there being visuals. This is weird to articulate, but at the beginning of the real ride, I felt as if the base of my seeing self was inside my brain. From this perspective I could see the back of my eyeballs. It was not cartoony, it was anatomically correct like you’d find in an anatomy book. I saw the nerves that attach to them and bring information to the brain. If I had to pick a location I’d say I was peering from the pineal gland. (It should be noted that my experience is surely influenced by all that I have read of other’s adventures into this realm. The pinel gland is frequently referenced. I wonder how much of other’s reports acts as echo chambers for first time explores.) As fantastic as the visuals were, the real depth of the trip was the feelings, emotions, and sensations.

My attention is always inwards when I do psychedelics. I remember seeing images and patterns and movement. Those didn’t compare. What I felt was beyond what I’m capable to tell. I will try.

We all can subconsciously, and sometimes consciously, feel where “we end.” Its normally a few inches to a foor past our skin. Our bubble. I felt this dissolving. I felt the base of my spine open outwards as if my legs were being splayed apart at a physiologically impossible angle. I felt warmth. I felt another. I felt a sensual femaleness as I did the first time. Where I felt as if we were making love the first time, this time it still felt sexual, but it felt as if she were just smiling at me, as if to say, “Its nice here, huh?”

Then this sense of peace came over me. A peace so deep, so penetrating,  I tear up thinking about it. I felt like I was “home” in a sense foreign to anything I’ve ever experienced in reality. To say I felt like I was in heaven would almost capture the feeling. Damn. I lack the ability to articulate the serenity. It seemed as if I was pressed up in this femaleness, like she was hugging me, like my entire self was cocooned in this love. Haha, descriptively I’m really veering of track. Its hard to explain. Its was the greatest positive feeling I’ve ever experienced.

The entire trip I felt a female essence. Interestingly, every man I’ve talked to has also told me he’s felt this femaleness and its sensualness. I’ve only met two females who have ventured into this chemical and they both say they have felt a femaleness and that she feels motherly. This really intrigues me. I wonder what it says about psychology, consciousness, and about the collective unconscious.

The entire trip lasted only a minute and fifty seconds. It took five minutes to get me under and I was back within two. As I came back, my friends anticipating my story, I just sat with my eyes closed, desperately savoring the feeling. I knew it’d escape. It did. I got emotional. I kept my eyes closed until I got some composure and said “I felt like I went home.”


Random Notes

I read reports of people talking about rich images, seeing entites, and hearing voices. This has not been my experience. Maybe our minds differ. I fear I have a weak imagination. I feel these things.

As I was about to go under, I had a weird feeling I can’t articulate. It was a feeling that the core of my being was being altered by the chemical. The feeling was so foreign I didn’t feel fear at the moment, but if definitely scared me. I think it may have been the very beginning of an ego death. If so, fuck I’m terrified  I’ve done a decent amount of psychoactive and I have yet to experience ego death. My first DMT trip was close, and it may have been, but it was so aggressive I don’t recall experiencing it. This time was slower, and I remember it.

DMT was not outlawed on an individual bases or for any reason attributed to the drug. It was outlawed under a sweeping bill passed in the 60’s to cripple of counter culture movement. It is not toxic. It is not addictive  It is not hazardous  Save your judgments unless you’ve tried the substance or are an expert in neurochemistry  biology, and psychology.

The pervading feeling through the trip was a sense of being home. The song I was listening too… “What do you go home too.” I didn’t make the connection until almost 30 minutes after the trip. Make of that what you will.