Huasca Brew (Syrian Rue & A. confusa)
Citation: Shelley. "The Infinite Honeycomb: An Experience with Huasca Brew (Syrian Rue & A. confusa) (exp101124)". Erowid.org. Jul 10, 2014. erowid.org/exp/101124
Preparation: 13 g Acacia confusa, 6 g syrian rue seeds, 500mg Vit. C. I did two 6 hour washes, strained the liquid, then reduced that liquid for 6 more hours leaving me about a 1/2 cup of liquid.
I cleaned my room the day I intended to drink the brew. My room is already and incredibly spiritual place for me, the walls are draped in tapestries and art work. I lit a candle, collected a few things that I wanted nearby and settled onto my bed. That morning I hadn't eaten anything, but did drink some blueberry detox tea.
I drank half the amount and waited for the effects to set in. While I waited I got really hungry, so I went to the kitchen, had some toast. Came back to my room and lay with my eyes closed in meditation. My body started to feel kind of light, but as this was my first experience, I thought I might be imagining it. I had also had a failed attempt with Acacia confusa and B. caapi in the past, so I wasn't convinced anything would come of this experience.
My stomach was churning, the brew is bitter to the extreme, and every time I thought about it inside of me, I was nauseated. I decided to have one more piece of toast while I still felt reasonably normal.
Things started to get interesting about 45 minutes after drinking the formohuasca. I began to personify objects and symbols in my room. There are stars on one of my tapestries. I did not like them, to me they were too overt, ostentatious, their points thrown out like open arms, like an explosion. They seemed so cocky. I didn't want to look at them. I realized my five-blade ceiling fan made me feel similarly, so I rolled over and wouldn't look any longer. My bedroom began to feel like a jungle. The art hung on my walls hung as though they were vines, the bookshelves were ancient trees, the trunk against my wall a moss covered boulder. I was not having hallucinations, it's just that they had this feeling about them. I went out of my room to go pee and I stopped in the kitchen. There was a fruit fly circling around a pile of produce, a banana, a zucchini, a cucumber. This scene was perfect. I wanted to cry it was so lovely. The fruit fly flew inside this scene as though inside a snow globe, one perfect infinite moment, set like a stage.
I went back to room. I stood on the threshold tentatively, perhaps knowing that crossing this line back into my room would mean abandoning myself to what was in store. I groaned, probably out loud, took a deep breath and stepped inside.
I lay on the bed and the world began to pixelate. My skin began to burn. It was extremely erotic. I had the sense that I was being penetrated. It was almost unbearable, how incredible my body felt.
There was a period of time, perhaps 15 minutes, where I could not think of the term 'distorted perceptions,' while all around me the furniture seemed to stretch and shift. I simply whispered 'perceptions, perceptions, perceptions' over and over to myself as it happened. The wrinkles and bumps of my blankets, though I knew they were blankets, seemed to cover an expanse of a million miles, they were a mountain range, and I felt daunted at the task of ever crossing them.
At this time, everything, my furniture, my artwork all leapt off the walls at me- wham, wham, wham- in my face. I realize how much our brains filtered out for us. I was so grateful for what our bodies knew. The shadows of every object became of equal importance, dimensionally, as the object itself. The room became a network of grids, the wood grain, the books on my self, all crisscrossing. I remembered what I had learned, years ago, in math class: that all true lines continue infinitely in either direction. I understood that all the grids, too, were infinite.
I began to write in my journal. I didn't want to forget. The words on the page were achingly beautiful. My drug-altered scrawl hung like vines. I swore that behind them I could here the sounds of the jungle, the call of exotic birds. The words sparkled, rainbows. They were music notes laid purposefully on a sheet of music. Around me the walls, the grids, still shifted and glittered. It reminded me of the orderly movement of bees in their hive. I wrote of it: 'So much movement. Like bees the infinite honeycomb and the dancing.' This line continues to summarize the trip perfectly for me.
Then there was a test set for me. I kept trying to control the things I was seeing. If something was beautiful, I would think 'that is so beautiful, I want it to be more beautiful,' and abruptly it would recede from me. The test was for me not to control it. I had to simply let it happen to me, and the more I relinquished control, the more I was permitted to experience.
After a while I sunk into a deep stupor, where I was a dragon. If you have ever seen an exorcism movie, you will have a suitable picture of what happened to me. I writhed around on the bed like an animal. I bit the pillows and blankets, twisted them around myself. I wound my arm around the back of my head, crammed my fingers in my mouth, bucked my hips, tore at my hair. I tightened and contracted every muscle like I would vomit, but I did not. I felt as though I was giving birth. I would pant and drool and whimper, only to be snatched up again by the tightening. I felt as though I was exorcising something from my body. I had a snout. I gnashed my teeth, growled and snarled, whined a note that would get higher and higher and higher until breaking and I would be free a moment until swept up again a second later. During this time I had to pee. I had a bowl in my room that had been intended for vomit. I couldn't leave my room, so I peed in the bowl. There was blood in my urine, and I knew it was whatever evil thing that had been trapped inside of me being expelled. (I should note that I went to the doctor a day later to address the obvious problem of peeing blood, but there was nothing wrong with me.)
I came down in waves. I wrote: 'I have been a terrible monster, gnashing teeth, whining a sustained high note like a demon. I do think this is the end. It is time to relax. My body has been to such places. I have been released.'
A while later I had an incredible mental image. Of this I wrote: ' I was safely tucked away inside a warm cocoon, one of flower petals, yellow and glowing. And I waited there. Embryo.'
Several hours later, I had a migraine headache that I attribute to dehydration. I went to bed early and drank a ton of water and felt perfectly fine the next day.
Following that day I have seen an increase in my creativity and imagination. I am happier, more alive, more patient with human nature.
That day, as I finally gained full awareness a last surge of inspiration lead me to my bookshelf. Off it I pulled Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I flipped through pages as though commanded by something outside of myself. I quoted: 'Of course it is happening inside your head..., but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?'
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