Citation: A. Maenad. "Out of Fear and Into Love: An Experience with Huasca Brew (Syrian Rue & Acacia confusa) (exp108394)". Erowid.org. Mar 29, 2018. erowid.org/exp/108394
The morning was very bright and cold. I headed over to E and B's apartment with an empty stomach as per E’s suggestion, pleased by the ostentatious sunlight. I arrived and was met with the odd scent of heated-up plant brew in a pot on the stove. Acacia confusa root bark was used, with syrian rue seeds as the MAOI. I waited a bit, cramming in a few last minute queries for E while he filtered out most of the tannins with a few egg whites. B awoke and prepared for her tripsitting duties while I sat on their couch, trying to steady my breathing, ground myself, and stave off my anticipation anxiety. I requested a valerian capsule for relaxation, and E added two ibuprofen to this pregame to ease potential effects from blood vessel constriction. I took these down with a chocolate graham cracker and had ice water to hydrate. I believe the valerian ended up quite effective in calming me.
When the brew was ready, E poured a mug for me and a mug for himself. In mine, he improved the flavor with lemon juice, Emergen-C, and sugar. It tasted very lovely as a result, with an interesting background of the planty-muddy flavor that begged to introduce itself to my taste buds. I downed it within a few minutes between 10:30 and 10:45, feeling it burn somewhat as it churned down my throat and into my stomach. I wondered if I would end up purging it all back up and if anything would in fact happen to me. So we waited, and chilled, casually conversing as three mystics will do.
I started to feel something subtle change in the fabric of reality around 11:30ish. I thankfully felt virtually no nausea at any point, and the shiny metal puke bowl at our feet remained unused. At some point music was put on, which started off classical. I moved to the music with excitement. My fear had melted away by now, and I was excited for what was to come. Reality seemed to feel slightly soupy, with time becoming thicker, and the wooziness of a body high/general stoned feeling was gently poking at me. However it was taking an abnormally long time to kick in for both me and E, which was the first sign something was off. But he did end up lying on the floor with a blanket before that, anticipating the come-on. I lay on the couch shortly after that, closing my eyes and breathing.
This is when my only encounter with visual effects took place. They were so gentle and elusive that I can’t tell if they were a placebo effect or not, especially since said visuals took on quite the serpentine character (as I’d hoped during my preparations after quite a bit of contemplation on snakes as one of the symbols that was having an increasing presence in my life). A shadow on the ceiling, when I would open my eyes, started to look like an undulating snake body as well, or at least my thoughts led me to delight in creating this. On the inside of my eyelids, I saw swirling ribbed serpentine shapes and the pulsing of feathered wings, as if my pal Quetzalcoatl was teasing me from wherever he resides in myself or other worlds.
Eventually I heard E sit up and speak softly to B. I heard him say “burnt the tea” and my ears perked up. I came to attention and asked if something was up, to which E replied that he may have let the tea boil, forgetting to lower the heat on the stove and thus probably destroying a significant amount of DMT. He claimed we’d had enough to send both of us into space by the 40 minute mark, if it had survived properly. After realizing that we were still quite lucid as we sat up and talked, we agreed that a stoned feeling was there, a slight head buzz with a slighter body high.
a stoned feeling was there, a slight head buzz with a slighter body high.
Apparently it was the first time he’d ever probably burnt the tea to ineffectiveness and I thought “It didn’t think I was ready. I prayed for too much protection” and couldn’t help but feel disappointed. So, Jimmy John’s subs were ordered for the three of us. My belly was happy, at least, at the prospect of a meal, as I never skip breakfast.
We noticed shortly before the delivery arrived that we were feeling pretty stoned in general. The feeling was remaining quite steady. It did not feel like a comedown, although I did not want to keep my hopes up. There was a knock on the door, E answered, and he noticed that the delivery guy had given him the wrong bag. The guy had to go back out to his car to correct the error, and after these few minutes, E stood by the door and said “Wow the tea just hit me really hard.” And I said “same.” The stonedness was amplifying steadily. Space was stretching considerably. I was starting to do little spontaneous giggles. Little ones, at first. The delivery guy came back with the right sandwiches just as E was getting super altered. The bag was placed on the coffee table, E lay back down in a blanket cocoon, and that was the last we dealt of the sandwiches for two or three hours hence.
E experienced this differently than I did of course, and I’m not sure he was given the full effect himself, but he said he did eventually experience a far more typical peak than I did. So, I sat and waited some more, suddenly high enough to be thoroughly intimidated by the thought of eating. I asked about the potential for a delayed onset with a bemused grin, and a short conversation about the Wolf of Wall Street quaalude scene ensued. After which my emotion quest began in earnest.
The first wave was euphoria. Pure euphoria. Everything was completely and utterly hilarious, especially the fact that the Jimmy John’s was delivered just in time to be temporarily abandoned. I kept seeing the bag on the table and crowing with laughter. In between I was laughing at mostly nothing, but when my companions would lift their heads to check up on me I usually had a witty comment on how stupidly giddy I felt which would make me laugh harder. I pet E and B’s cats with glee. I had the urge to look outside of their wide-open bedroom window and gulp in the chill air and gaze at the beautiful day. Smiling was the default. I was simply happy with every little thing, and I was in full control.
Smiling was the default. I was simply happy with every little thing, and I was in full control.
I gazed at B’s witchy décor/supplies and was overcome with their charm. I was an innocent child taking in all of reality with blind delight. I had a longing urge to be out in my woodsy stomping grounds, but did not let my lack of nature bother me. I was right where I needed to be. I strode back into the living room to hear E and B having a delightful exchange of conversation, at which of course I giggled a lot. I felt the deep affection and love between them, and I had a quiet celebration in my heart for it (with a quieter hope for myself that I could experience this again one day). Back on the couch I went, grasping a groovy zebra-print pillow which had been breathing, as I discerned with my eyes, for some time. This pillow would later become integral to my inner dialogue.
After this gigglefest, I think, I talked quite a bit with B and career/art stuff. I lost my thoughts continuously and when she spoke of her own studies I had to hold back spontaneous fits of laughter even as I listened with keen interest. Of course, every unusual behavior I displayed was fully accepted by my company because they are very open-minded and accommodating people who know what drugs do. I was told later that during this time E was experiencing quite a few visuals as he lay with his eyes closed with music and us as background noise.
After this conversation came a new flavor.
This was one of sheer intensity, the kind that makes you cry, which I did gently at first, then profusely. I began sitting up with my eyes closing and my head dipping down to face the zebra pillow in my lap. After extending my being outward and exercising my desire to share, I wanted to try cooping up inward. I faced a medley of very beautiful thoughtforms. I felt I was absolutely inundated with the universe’s love. I thought of various people in my life, and how much I love them and my quest to perfect the act of selfless love. I did not cry with great wracking sobs, just deep breaths, waters escaping liberally from my eyes and waves and waves of an emotion I have indeed felt many times before in my life but this time able to fully express and release it because the various filters of sobriety cloud these things, and in my ayahuasca moment, I felt only clarity and lightness. I felt the pulses of emotion viscerally, in my shoulders, my lungs, my face, as well as in my soul. I saw great beauty in myself, and great strength, which I felt was the truth finally unburdened by worry and past pain.
I looked up after the first emotion-flood session to see E and B looking at me with some measure of concern and I uttered my favorite line from the day: “I’m okay – just withdrawing into myself and seeing what’s there.” At some point I got tissues, and continued to need them for perhaps an hour or a little less. I felt my purge consisted of mucus, built up in laughter and expelled in the beautiful heartache I can’t really think of the ideal term or phrase for. Sometime between 12 and 1pm was this series of tearful episodes.
I paused for a moment when E sat up and we talked briefly, then started to become entranced by increasingly beautiful music again. I muttered “fuckin neurotransmitters man” and mentioned that I was going back and forth between euphoria, calm plus urge-to-converse, and intense emotion, and that if I pulled myself back inward I could easily reach intense mode again. B was napping at this point I think, as she had hit a generous amount of weed. I began to think of geese and woods, things I love, casually and laughed some more at the delight of these things. A version of Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen came on, and I giggled a fuckton after posing the question “how many versions of this song do you think there are,” started to become really affected by the song, telling E with awe “I can see the ironic side of myself being like ‘oohhh haha this is so beautiful’ and the genuine side of myself being like ‘oh this is so beautiful’ and I can see them existing simultaneously in me (suggesting I could not see this as well in sober life)…it is nice to see them together” and when the music reached an emotional height I descended back into tears mode, talking with the zebra pillow that told me I was loved immensely. E rocked back and forth with his eyes closed, in some parallel state.
I went to the bathroom at some point (it was somewhat hard for me to move even mildly affected by the tea, but it was possible with concentration) and remember seeing how huge my pupils were in the mirror. I should have spent more time staring at myself, because I was delighted with the beauty of my face and I was also zooming gently into the mirror as the wall in the background zoomed back. But I felt I had to get back to the couch. I believe the comedown started a little after this, and we felt it was finally time to feast upon the subs. I was still high enough to enjoy the sustenance a bit more thoroughly than I would have sober. I was so stoked by the delicious bread and mayo and plants and cheese nourishing me (I desired no meat, feeling it was improper for the time).
Eventually, two more of E and B’s pals came over, by around 3pm more sober activities commenced, although weed was passed around and I took a couple hits, becoming slightly high for the hell of it. I felt a tiny bit weirded out by the foreign energies coming into my space while I hadn’t fully come down, but not distressed in the least. I talked freely and comfortably when my conversation was fit to include, and I even said a few things that got laughs from the company. I was accepting of the situation but felt I still wanted to bawl my eyes out again; the overwhelming emotion did not return, and perhaps this was right. Some stuff was watched on Netflix, and the rest of the evening progressed in calm sobriety with light reflection, plus eagerness to catalogue the experience. Malibu rum with coconut flavor was brought back to the apartment, which I had to try with some coke because I was still feeling sort of frisky.
I am to wait two weeks until I am to attempt a higher flight, which I feel was purposefully baited by the hands of fate. I think some of the DMT was burned away subsequently making my experience a predominantly emotional and verbal one with delayed and milder effect because I needed to be introduced to an absence of fear and a clear look at myself and love, as my integration of this experience has led me to believe. I feel it spoke to me in the language I found most familiar and comforting, in order to dispel my pre-launch anxiety for future journeys. It may use other languages when I jump in again. I thought perhaps these things became truer to me: I will become stronger in self-love and confidence, and shed the need for love that becomes demanding, unhealthy, or conditional. I will become better at recognizing what it really looks like, treating it with utmost delicacy, and holding out for tainted things I cannot cleanse will no longer be a thing that I do. I needed to see what was inside, and it is in fact strong and beautiful.
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