Archive for the ‘Psychotropic’ Category

Intoxicated, part 2

Wednesday, November 4th, 2009

While in my early twenties, I was fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time (upper Haight, San Francisco at dusk), and among the right people (neo-hippies) to result in my first dose of psychotropic or entheogenic mushrooms. The experience was so impressive and uncanny that other experiences soon followed. The activating agents in the mushrooms may be psilocin and psilocybin, but in my experience there is something else there as well—a powerful and intelligent, communicative force.

By this time in my life I had developed a rigid ego structure that was severe and unbalanced. I was too tightly wound, had fears and prejudices, and a lack of knowledge of my deeper self. The mushrooms helped me to change these things. They prompted a deconstruction of my uptight ego, and opened me up to genuinely awesome and perplexing experiences. (I should mention that I was never so much a recreational drug user, but a semi-serious psychonaut who used substances to work through issues, learn about myself, get in touch with repressed or alternative mental conditions, and/or create states I wanted to explore through art, while occasionally just wanting to chill or trip or freak out). The mushrooms brought me in touch with some deep, natural, organic connections, while showing me certain absurdities in dominant society and mainstream culture; they offered me insights to spiritual and/or metaphysical questions I had, and let me experience a whole new domain of or way to perceive the real. I also had some very bizarre trips. These experiences imbued in me some great mysteries. I spent more than a year ingesting mushrooms on a very regular basis, and was aided tremendously in a transformative process. I shutter to think how I might have developed had I not gone through this period of my life. Even after it had ended I was far from being even semi- well-adjusted, and there were many lessons that I was not ready for, that I would have to defer until another time. After this period I only ingested mushrooms periodically, usually once every several years or so, and in some ways, my life between doses became a time to prepare myself for the next dose.

It is noteworthy to point out how at odds mushrooms and alcohol are. Even after knowing this and having these experiences with mushrooms, I continued to drink for about another ten years. Perhaps I was too weak or had too many problems, or perhaps I needed to go out of control (there was something alluring about the utter degradation and helplessness of my severe drunken episodes…), or needed to take this path for some other reasons, to learn other lessons. I stopped inhaling volatile chemicals however. I knew that this was an extremely dangerous activity, and that I’d learned my lesson from it and it was time to move on. But I would continue to drink, through car accidents and awful behavior, and having to suffer others who were painfully and disgustingly intoxicated on alcohol.

At some point, somebody gave me a big bag of marijuana, and I smoked it, and it was good. Before this I had tried it some times and it had usually been unpleasant and a cause for paranoia. But, with this bag, I became witness to its mellow, soothing, pleasant, and even mind-expanding, or at least mind-floating, effects.

It’s interesting how the substance(s) one uses contributes so much to one’s personality. This seems obvious, but maybe some people don’t realize how thoroughly a substance can permeate one’s being. I guess the saying “you are what you eat” is accurate if we take “eat” to mean “ingest,” to mean everything we put into our bodies, and our minds as well. It does not seem possible to disentangle our identities from the stuff we consume. The experiencer is a part of the experience. It might be seen as a way of forfeiture or a lazy and irresponsible way to go about our lives, handing over the task of our personality formation to a drug or a teevee show or an organizational belief of some kind. But, we have to go about it in some way, don’t we? And we must do the best we can, without any rule books, hopefully finding a way that suits us, that offers us each meaning and valuable lessons, and gets us by, basically amicably with the rest of the world. This is something that’s been a concern of mine, and my engagement with intoxicants may indicate a personal oscillation between searching for guidance and being reluctant or unable to take responsibility for myself. At the time, from my perspective, I was intensely driven by burning questions of meaning. And, I found myself often consumed with a questioning of personal ideas and moral boundaries in an effort to find something meaningful that I could hold onto.

Intoxicated, part 1

Thursday, October 29th, 2009

Young teenager, with unpleasant experiences in daily routine, seeks psychic stimulation. Imagination and music and the cracks in suburbia revealing glimpses of weirdness make for an enticing luminosity. How to enter these spaces, where the mind is aglow and able to perceive and feel from an alternative coordinate system? The young teenager here, he goes from sniffing markers and holding his breath to inhaling rubber cement and liquid paper*. The waves of tingles that move through his body and the accompanying chemical changes that rush through his brain seem to indicate a breach in his immediate reality and the existence of another dimension of experience. He and a similar-minded friend soon acquire the guidance of an older, knowledgeable and mysterious, fellow named Seth. Seth instructs the two boys on the way of inhaling glue. They sit against apartment buildings, tucked away behind bushes, with tubes of model cement and the plastic bags from the supermarket produce section, learning the rudiments of vapor inhalation. They practice with amounts of glue, how it’s spread into the bag, how to hold the bag and with how much capacity in it, and how to work it with the other hand to establish a good rhythm between the lungs filling the bag and the squeezing down of the bag to fill the lungs. And through the experiences of this practice they psychically move into another dimension, or at least psychically move out of the one they were otherwise in.

Our young teenager also experiments with alcohol and sessions of heavy drinking. From the earliest of these he goes through intense episodes of falling-down drunk, foggy and ill voyages into blackouts. Soon he is drinking fairly regularly, beer mostly but also wine or wine coolers, and it is during these drunken times that he also acquires the habit of smoking cigarettes. Alcohol is an easy fix because it is so prevalent, even to a minor, and it enjoys such widespread acceptance and support. It might even be said that the path to mindless drunkenness is encouraged or can seem normal.

And so, the teenage years go by, filled with days getting mad drunk and smoking, tobacco as well as a great many clove cigarettes, and occasionally mixing another substance into the equation such as marijuana or cocaine. But still, the special relationship between our teenage user and volatile chemicals is a deep one and continues on, whether it be by inhalation of model cement or liquid paper from a bag while parked alone in a secluded place, or from bag with an intoxicating spray in a storage room at place of employment, or slumped over a sink in the graphic arts class pouring lacquer thinner into running hot water…

Oh, the beautiful, sunny, breezy, southern California suburban days that float by, with these boys sniffing up tubes of glue, sitting in a car at a community shopping center (where the necessary supplies were readily available), listening to Pornography by The Cure, and floating in and out of vaporous inebriated states of sensation! How the outside world would change, while their insides would turn strange and grow numb! After some hours of filling the car with dangerous vapors, one of them or both of them might want a cigarette, and while pulling one out and handling the lighter, they would giggle perversely at the thought that the car might be so full of fumes that a spark would ignite the whole thing into a ball of flame! Then they would flick the lighters, and even though there was no explosion in the suburban shopping center that day, there was a couple of boys aware of that cool and noxious feeling one gets when commingling nicotine-laced smoke with toxic glue fumes in a being with numb body and mind peeking through one of those weird and ephemeral ruptures in mundane reality.

*These, and as far as I know All the substances mentioned herein, were of a different constitution when the events depicted in this writing took place. The events themselves might in fact never have occurred, and this could be merely a piece of fiction. In any event, the author is not advocating in any way the use of any mentioned or related substances.