Citation: Cygnus. "I Thought You Were Hiding: An Experience with Anadenanthera peregrina (exp101878)". Erowid.org. Apr 8, 2016. erowid.org/exp/101878
I like to think I prepared this perfectly, but really it seems there's no 'good' way to do it.
I used 4 seeds, roasted, de-shelled, pulverized, etc.
I used some calcium hydroxide from Wal-Mart. Not really much of a big deal where it comes from.
The important part is the ~*DISTILLED*~ water. I stress distilled because it makes a lot of difference. I am of the belief that everyone should always have some on hand at all times.
I was terrified. I was so apprehensive of this snuff that I was literally shaking and cold-sweating. I knew this would break me. I had been lurking in the shadows for far too long, licking long-healed wounds. I knew it would burn terribly to insufflate. I almost didn't do it. I had an off day. One of those days where things go JUST right enough to get through the day. It's a mid-November evening. It's a perfect time to crucify my ego. I was exhausted, I sought this but I almost shied away. I'm glad I did not.
I put some cardboard from a large box on the floor, and a large trough for shoes or something of the like next to me and separated the snuff into two equal piles, a septum’s length apart.
THEN IT HAPPENED
I turned on my Pandora to my New-Age music station, and sat, staring at the plate with the ego-shattering powder on it... I pondered. I had to work up the courage to shove the plate to my face and take a sharp, shallow inhalation (this comes highly recommended, by the way) of the two small piles I had created.
It burned! It burned, but not so badly as I had hoped it would not. I strongly fought the natural sneezing response, and held my breath until I had to breathe through my mouth
I strongly fought the natural sneezing response, and held my breath until I had to breathe through my mouth
, keeping my head down, like I had a nosebleed, massaged my nostrils gently and slowly started to lapse out.
It came on hard and fast.
THEN IT –REALLY- HAPPENED
I began to see my field of view begin to shake, wobble, and turn into Technicolor TV static. As this began, I blew out the gunk lodged firmly in my nose. I collected myself as much as I could, just enough to stumble over and collapse onto the laid-out futon with my vomit trough (which also comes highly recommended). I lost all sense of spatio-temporal reasoning. Nothing made sense, and everything looked wobbly and strange. No nausea yet.
“This is good. This is going well,” I thought to myself, “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I repeated like a mantra. I laid back and stared at the ceiling. The open-eyed visuals were un-inspiring, but when I closed my eyes, everything became a red, rotating mandala of psychedelic noise and I blanked out, no sense of self, or anything, really.
I became slowly aware of my surroundings again and started, and sat up. Big mistake. I wobbled and tossed my light dinner into my trough violently and with abandon. It was the psychedelic equivalent of coughing up a hairball. No water, either. Disgusting. At least it was contained.
I laid back and continued to confusedly admire hyperspace for what seemed like a forever-second. Time was, for lack of a better phrase, wibbly-wobbly, and timey-wimey. Spatio-temporal reasoning was completely shattered. I collected myself as the visions began to slowly subside, and dazedly walked up the stairs (not the best idea) to go to the warm, familiar embrace of my shower where I often sit under the water and meditate in the mornings.
THEN IT REALLY, REALLY HAPPENED
As I was showering, I began to have bitter-sweet memories. I began purposefully asking myself intensely uncomfortable questions. I came here to learn, not to space out and toss my meal. I came here to break my fragile ego with a sledgehammer. So it happened. I had been chasing the tail of the dogma. I had been running in circles. I had been sifting through old, painful memories in the dark, in a dissociative blur.
Everything came to me all at once and I began to cry. I felt so cosmically tiny and utterly insignificant as I always knew I had been, sitting on this spinning ball of dirt with my eyes on the ground, going round and round the sun, broken and desiccated, wanting only a sip of water to quench my thirst. I had been clinging to material objects and meaningless vices trying to find a way out.
I began sobbing uncontrollably, and remembered the birth of my children, everything that mattered was behind their blue, innocent eyes, and I was locked behind my steely, cynical eyes a broken mess. Slowly I pulled myself together, and dried off slightly, stumbled back into my underwear, which was all I was wearing to begin with (again, highly recommended, as you will almost over-heat in the beginning), and stumbled back downstairs and resumed playing the “Wish You Were Here” album by Pink Floyd, which only shattered my pitiful walls further.
As “Welcome to the Machine” played, I grew terrified, and recalled a nightmare where I died all alone, and my last thought was loneliness, and then nothing, and I screamed inside and sobbed uncontrollably, and muttered “I don’t want it to be like this, NO! NO!” All of the words of that song rang true. Everyone else created my dreams, and my vision of myself. I had been constructed as a toy soldier. Nothing was fulfilling anymore. I was a cold, steel robot, programmed to churn numbers and instruct computers and I writhed in psychological agony, clutching my tear-stained pillow.
“Wish You Were Here” played and broke me down further. I really was just a lost soul swimming in a fishbowl. I wanted to be next to someone, to be warm and hear someone breathe next to me again, someone meaningful. I wanted a mother’s embrace. I was so, so lonely, and even when others were around, that never changed. I had been “chasing a tail of smoke and reason” for far too long. Soon my third eye began to burn brightly and my entire demeanor changed. I felt like I had a purpose. I felt like I knew what to tell everyone and I knew “it doesn’t have to be like this. All we need to do is keep talking.”
As the last of Shine On played, I laid there staring off with a thousand yard stare, processing everything. It was the most intense emotional roller-coaster I had ever taken a ride on. I started laughing and crying all at once. It all came back to me. That sense of childlike wonder. I realized what I wanted from life and how to be happy again, and it was such a stupidly simple answer, I started laugh-crying like the manic-depressive idiot I am.
As I write this, a mere two three hours from when it all began, I feel a sense of calm. A sense of direction, guidance and purpose. I realized I am not alone, and I never have been. I have people who are waiting in the wings, wanting only for me to come out of the haze, to wake up and come out of my hole. My ego was utterly destroyed, and as I sit here picking up the pieces, I now know what no longer serves me. “I know the pieces fit, cos I watched them fall away.”
I leave you, the reader, with this:
This is not a fun drug. This is not a fun experience. There is nothing fun about this, but if you’re reading this, like I was, you probably know why you need it. Ask yourself questions. You know. You know deep down inside all of your demons’ names. Be prepared to confront them. This is a powerful tool, and it is not to be trifled with. This was meant to be a purifying and cleansing Medicine-with-a-capital-M. Do not abuse this Medicine, or it will abuse you right back, beating you down and leaving you to pick up the pieces. It will punish you. I deserved the psychological punishment I endured, not because I am a terrible person, but because I am an amazing person and I was hiding from Myself.
Good luck, safe travels, and be well.
Light and Love,
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