Huasca Brew (Syrian Rue & A. confusa)
Citation: Laija. "Conquering the Fear of Death: An Experience with Huasca Brew (Syrian Rue & A. confusa) (exp101171)". Erowid.org. Oct 18, 2016. erowid.org/exp/101171
I am a 29 year-old male weighing approximately 175lbs. I have prior experience with Marijuana, Cocaine, LSD, Ayahuasca, and Psilocybin Mushrooms.
I had returned home after working a graveyard shift, feeling rather weary and depressed. I decided to check the weather to determine if it would be possible to enjoy my Acacia and Harmala outdoors tonight; the weather looked promising. I determined to shower and ingest a small sample of the Acacia (and perhaps a little bit of the Rue) to gauge dosage, and to get a feel for it so as to optimize my experience later tonight.
Exactly two (2) full tablespoons of finely ground/shredded Acacia Confusa root bark was placed into a clean steel pot with approximately one (1) cup of filtered water. The water was quickly brought to a full boil, the tea was stirred, the pot was lifted from the stove and swirled by wrist motion, the pot was placed back on the burner long enough for the boil to return, and then lifted off and swirled again. This process was repeated only a few times, the period of boiling lasting only around thirty (30) seconds before pouring the deep, dark, reddish tea through a metal strainer into another pot warming adjacent. This process was repeated with clean water two (2) more times before the plant material was respectfully discarded in the garden. The second pot was kept at a just-sub-boiling temperature in order to evaporate a little bit more of the water for about another two (2) minutes. The pot was taken off of the burner, yielding 2 green glass chalices full of dark, red tea.
Preparation of the self:
Mind was quite distraught with the stress of school and work, and about what to do at this turning point in my life. I made a list of intentions (below). The body was prepared with a raw vegan diet and plenty of water. Instead of eating that morning, I opted to fast before my ‘sample sacrament’. The body was ritualistically cleansed without oppressive cleansers, hair was shampooed, skin was scrubbed with a washcloth and water with baking soda and essential oils, feet were scrubbed with a brush. While in the shower, I joked with myself that what I was about to do was “The safest way to commit suicide!” Essential oils of lavender and cloves, mixed with refined coconut oil and baking soda were lightly applied to skin and hair after showering without towel-drying, as has become custom.
Intentions for this experience were a mile long, but the main points were to understand time, reality, death, my role in existence, and the best method by which to go about living “a life”. Well, I am blessed to say that I got all that I bargained for and infinitely more.
I took my first chalice (which had cooled sufficiently while I showered) downstairs to my room, set it aside for a moment, and assumed Siddhasana (a common meditative posture) on my bed with curtains drawn and peaceful ambient music playing. Phone had been set on airplane mode, and was open to my list of intentions, available should I need them. No other electronic devices were on in the room. No other distractions, such as others in the house, or loud noises outside, were present. Contact lenses were removed. I meditated on past experiences and my intentions for around 5 minutes.
Feeling solid, I drank my first half-chalice in a few gulps. Bitter tea, but not unreasonable. I resumed a tight Siddhasana and meditated with eyes closed for what seemed like 10-15 minutes. Immediately, I noted elevated heart rate and a slight trembling in my extremities. Little more than this and the very slightest cognitive impairment were observed for the first 15 minutes.
I finished the first chalice. Yes, I do enjoy using the word chalice. Feeling dreamy; feeling fatigued. Bitter taste in mouth. Over the next 15 minutes I began to feel slightly more impaired – I would feel uncomfortable driving, but I would probably be able to do so safely enough (don’t try). I lay back on my amazing bed, my legs still folded under me, and feel the blood coursing through my thighs. The volume has been turned up on life. I hear the subtle frequencies of existence dancing into my ears. Every now and again I feel the urge to gently hyperventilate – an act of ‘rising to the occasion’ so as not to miss the experience due to lethargy. Each act of this deep breathing brings a neatly packaged euphoria with it. Feeling great. Feeling really, really good. I am ready to embrace both the darkness and the light, and transcend them by uniting their polarities that I might understand them. At times I feel sober, at others I can definitely sense something churning on the distant horizon of my mind
At times I feel sober, at others I can definitely sense something churning on the distant horizon of my mind
which cannot be attributed to the placebo effect. Nothing as profound as the celebrated and unsettling first waves experienced on mushrooms or ayahuasca, but the sensation is building. There are a few isolated, gentle rolling sensations in the stomach and throat which I recognize as those which could potentially envelop the whole of my being in mutual protean flux, should the dose be sufficient. I am comfortable, the music is blissful and emotive, and I am ready for more. I did hesitate to take more, but I remembered that another intronaut had had a fairly minor experience with three tablespoons, so I ventured forth.
The second chalice is filled upstairs (walking is entertaining now btw). The morning sun pouring through the windows is shifting in intensity as the clouds pass under it in concert with the subtle revolutions of my mind. I return downstairs to my sanctuary. I have decided, due to my newfound bliss, to eat a few Rue seeds. I poured out a quarter (25cent)-sized pile of them into my palm, tossed them into my mouth, chewed them thoroughly, and washed them down with the first half of the second chalice. This bottom cup is heavier than the first. Little waves of nausea are observed. Very bitter taste. I lay down for a moment under my incredible blankets and gaze up at my ornate Arabic scarf affixed to the ceiling. I feel the need to get some more blood to my head, so I push my legs into the air and hold myself inverted, my arms and neck supporting my weight. I breathe deeply, welcoming the familiar euphorias of oxygen reaching my brain. I then let my legs down and lying on my back, hang my head off the side of the bed. I discover a quite comfortable position to do so in which the muscles and bones of my shoulders and neck seem perfectly aligned and painless.
Closed eye visuals manifest. It seems I have inherited manipulation of the light and darkness behind my eyelids and use it to sculpt a few ferocious and beautiful works of art which the world should never know. A few moments of this, and I realize that I must sit upright. Doing so releases an incredible rush to my spine and brain. Gentle nauseas and rolling sensations in my stomach and throat. I feel that if I imbibe the remaining Acacia tea now, I may vomit. I sit at the edge of the bed, steady myself for a few moments (definitely feeling altered now). I know quite fully that I am almost there – that all I require is one more push. After I am steadied, the remaining tea is drunk. Instant wow. I am inspired and I begin to write on my phone’s note app (below). The writing is incredible. Each action is supportive of all others. There is bliss and harmony in each word. Time dilates. When I am brave enough to divert my eyes from the sacred sutras I am recording, I gaze into the eternities of my intricate Arabic shawls hanging from my walls and witness the glowing geometrical landscapes so described by McKenna and his legion of protégés. I feel that if I could stare into them, I would teach my eyes to see without aid of glasses or lenses, but alas, I simply have no time for that, and you will understand why when you read what I have written below. I must say that I have never hallucinated in such a tangible way. Every other hallucinogen (except perhaps ayahuasca) made hallucinating to seem like a frenzied mental defect to me, rather than this willed epiphany of form and function, reflecting the revelations I am now privy to.
I will now finish my narration of events with the writing I completed while in this most blessed, most perfecting state, which I shall cherish for my whole life. It has truly set me free and I am grateful to share this experience with you. Namaste.
As the void is an instance from being,
Being is an instance from the void.
Once one is compassionate to the both of these serpents of darkness and light (they are interchangeable), one transcends the horror between them and views the other as a place to visit when 'here' becomes tedious and boring.
Form is lent to the void in the shape, the language, of the breath.
The breath is being.
Being is here.
This act makes the void 'there', 'alien', 'other'.
When one is impressed upon by the feeling of needing to escape 'here', escape being, and they take it upon themselves to ensure a departure to what is other (to die, cast off their conditioning and be born again as a new form, a new being) there is a time when all things, all thoughts, contradict each other, and provide no escape, and grow terrifyingly hot, stifling, and suffocating. This is what is meant by the intended action. This is the death of the conditioned being and immersion into the void. Only fear causes people to recreate their form (that they have themselves invented) each moment. They cling to this familiar being and make something called 'time' (or the forward, linear progression of it) and something called 'a life'. --It suddenly becomes apparent while writing this that a life itself is merely aged and killed by natural causes as the most gentle manner of freeing one from this being.
I had made note prior to taking my sacrament that this act is 'the safest way to commit suicide!' But, and there is a caveat, one MUST recognize death as both destroyer and creator. One must recognize that this situation that they are experiencing, the heat and the suffocation and the like, the dilation of time; moments into eternities so that the act of breathing itself (which requires a forward and linear flow of time that it might create 'being') becomes terrifyingly difficult – as one perceives that as they venture forth into one of these 'last, tired breaths that go on forever' they may forget how to perform the act of breathing itself! But it is plain to see, by the very fact that you can see, that you can know, that you have lived a life of breathing, that you have been conditioned, that you suffered this horrible holocaust known as 'being' -that the moments do plainly continue. They march on forth like the soldiers they are, carrying the weight of a lifetime of one's fear without so much as a weary sigh! --And now the actual cognition, the consciousness of the act is tugging at me, demanding my attention, as I am such a cerebrotonic, such a fanciful intellect. I know now that I will never need another time at this! I have filled in all of the gaps in this! I have perfected my being! My body shakes with it! Trembles! I have become a flawless mirror by which the void may gaze into and know itself! Nothing exists! Nothing at all and it is all created from itself out of boredom! Out of loneliness!
But time is not the same in the eternity of the void. How can it be? Without breaths by which to sustain itself long enough to live a life and develop such a concept as time!
And what will my angry future self think? How angry he will be that he no longer quakes with ignorance! Haha that he has no longer anything to gain by poisoning himself in order to gain wisdom! Death has been revealed! I am known! I am a perfect reflection of the void! And I move forward now to bring about peace and bliss in this world. That this reality become a brilliantly adorned artifact; an ornate, wondrous temple to the fact of the dissolution of fear! Yes, I shall cling to this little fear (it seems so small now), even becoming a buffoon for that which is to come as well as for that which already is, for, where and when else could I (we) ever have suffered just as I (we) have suffered, that I (we) might arrive at the very conquest of fear and death?!
Blessed is compassion in all things. Do not forego even the smallest, slightest kindnesses to ALL things, including the parts of one's own being, physical or otherwise :)
I then shared this with loved ones:
Blessed is compassion in all things. Do not forego even the smallest, slightest kindnesses to ALL things, including the parts of one's own being, physical or otherwise. We sustain ourselves by fear. We cling to this being because of fear for what we have created in the act of becoming. We have created a 'void', an 'other'. This can be viewed with terror as we view the lurking menace of death, that suffocating apocalypse at the end of one's 'life', OR we may view it as the place to which our mind slips each moment when we forget to breathe; the very same destination we have manifested the safe departures known as 'sleep' and 'dream' that we might innocently arrive there while curiously, still living! Going on, living our lives, all the while we are surrounded by, filled with, that thing we fear most! Haha anyways I'm rambling and should do brevity a service by closing here. I do, however, intend to repeat (many, many times); Blessed is compassion in all things!
Needless to say, my sample became my ultimate revelation. The experience lasted perhaps 2 hours? No vomiting, no significant horrors, almost uninterrupted bliss. There were only small moments when I began to feel overwhelmed and had only to re-focus myself on my writing to get through it. 2 tablespoons is enough.
As of now, I don’t feel the need to take any more tonight (or ever again), though I am no longer afraid of it either, so…. We’ll see. Be safe out there, friends, and fear not!
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