Citation: Mark H.. "Fractal Epiphanies: Folly or Freedom?: An Experience with Mushrooms (exp61935)". Erowid.org. Mar 26, 2021. erowid.org/exp/61935
Fractal Epiphanies: Folly or Freedom?
A Psilocybin Discourse
Spores of the Earth’s flesh, when taken randomly throughout the past 6 years, have led me to perceive, accept, and enjoy invisible realms. To this day, I’m still intrigued that one of Nature’s own poisons could harbor such extraordinary capabilities. Perhaps, these words hint at madness, but who would I be to deny that I’ve encountered some maddening realizations?
The pursuit of understanding psychoactives, rather than viewing the experiences solely as recreational, took me to a method of thought that I wouldn’t have imagined. College did not provide me solely with smoke-laced reveries, but proved to be a suitable location for greater frequency and intensity of psychedelic journeys, with people whom I could share my thoughts honestly. With much passion, I’ve pursued hidden realms, hoping to find something akin to those metaphysical landscapes only attainable through continued vision quests in the tradition of our Native Americans, whose home we tore from their grasp.
My quests began while I was a junior in high school, during the year 2001, but did not reach fruition--in other words, I experienced a climactic, life-changing revelation while on psilocybin mushrooms--until my junior year of college, 2006. Psilocybin mushrooms provided me with a means of accessing spectrums of sight, sound, and thought previously unattainable during sober moments. I started with doses around 1.5-2 grams when I was 16, then dosage amounts increased slowly as the years passed. A plateau of 3.5-4.5 grams lasted for the first three years of college, until I felt ready for more.
From 2006 onward, my trips have been less frequent due to the increased work loads at school, but they have become far more introspective, reflective, and inspirational. My last three trips began with weeks to months of planning so that work, school, and exploration would coincide without conflict. Then, on each occasion, I orally ingested doses of 5.5-7 grams of dried caps and stems--a peak at which I’ll remain until I’m prepared to seek even more engrossing psychoactive expeditions. With these ample amounts, I’ve discovered glorious pandemonium and well-springs of inspiration that flow with their own rhythm, imploring me to write poems and tales previously unfound. Often, these past few experiences have reminded me of H.P. Lovecraft’s stories “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath”, “The Silver Key”, and “Through the Gates of the Silver Key” in which deep enough reflection (or dreaming, in some cases) and exploration results in a loss of identity and a merging with the omniscient, collective consciousness of the cosmos, for that is how I describe these past few journeys.
No truth remains solid when worlds lurk beyond my sight and voices sing their dreams from the darkness of other dimensions. The first definite milestone in my quests for metaphysical revelations came in the spring of 2006, with one of the deepest, introspective trips of my existence. During a ten hour psychoactive expedition, I experienced what I can only think to designate as: “transcendence”. I’d experienced severe time distortion before, but I felt completely removed from the physical world with its limited dimensions. Time became an illusion, “Like Spinning Plates” live lasted thirty minutes longer than usual. At 99:88 o’clock I entered a darker realm where I could almost hear the whispers of my dead friends. In turn, I adopted the persona of a dead musician, perhaps melding my enjoyment of his music with subconscious impulses that often influence my writing. I actually became Jim Morrison reincarnated in the modern world, for a few hours. Not usually prone to sing at length (unless alone), I found singing a more effective method of articulating sudden thoughts at the time, especially since my ethereal inspiration gave me a spontaneous, improvised repertoire of songs which I then sang to dispel the terror of losing my identity. That is, instead of writing poems, I sang them, and each line came on its own without prior consideration. Throughout the emotional and mental spectrums I soared and plummeted while howling an elegy for my friend Samuel (fellow lifeguard before college and friend of the family), who had died earlier that year, on his 20th birthday. To reciprocate for my friend’s death, I ended a war and then proclaimed water and electricity free to all inhabitants of Earth, so that some measure of tranquility might be attained.
Those extremely intense feelings of euphoria don’t always remain for long, however, because my ideas formed out of catharsis during a trip risk falling prey to over-sentimentality and lack of rational argument. I knew that I could not end a war alone and logically examined my surreal ideas. Thereafter, my mood began to decline from euphoric to melancholic, but such is the tendency of excessive thought after relying upon emotionally charged inspirations.
However, I would not give up the increased perception of emotion I’ve gained from these trips. Since that transcendent day in the spring of 2006, I have explored even deeper into the psychoactive realms, I admit without doubt or regret that I’ve enjoyed each experience and would consider none of my journeys negative. Obliterated by an inundation of nebulous energies over the years, the boundaries of my mind have crumbled, never would I return to a state of mind-confinement, if given the option. By traveling beyond the veil of visible reality, I’ve discovered more of myself and my poetic voice, and my the connections between my life and all of my writing and experiences. Something in my mind became unlocked after my climactic trip, and each subsequent expedition has been another incredible and life-changing experience.
December 1, 2006, I experienced enthralling terror with darkness, fiber-optics, and a town called Tristram, but discovered that the wonderful, although somewhat debilitating, fear I felt during the first four hours made the music of the climax and after-effects even more glorious—even more rewarding. As I ascended from the pits of Hell itself, a bittersweet harmony descended upon my mentality. I had beaten evil and surpassed all my intoxicating fears, but knew that my victory would only last until I went to sleep that night.
In a similar experience on March 13, 2007, I consumed 6 grams of psilocybin—the same dosage as December—and returned to Tristram. Rather than achieving victory, as I had done in December, I failed in my quest to save the town of Tristram. My spontaneous trip and ambitious plans lead me to a deeper spiritual awakening, because once again I found I could never do enough for this planet, one of infinite wonders and transparent truths.
Furthermore, mushrooms and other psychoactives have led me to a deeper appreciation of both the visible grandeur and the chaos that lingers beyond sight. I’m always willing to explore the pathways of life and death--inscribed in my mind but unknown until Earth provides the keys and I grasp them. I couldn’t access my entire mind without help from the planet and I’m grateful for the opportunity to explore something more than I could perceive on my own. I recognize my humanity, but with the assistance of the planet and psycho-actives, I come closer to infiltrating the invisible realm, the spiritual, the cosmic infinity, I come closer to the nature of my life’s turmoil and death’s enigmatic possibilities.
I’ve seen memories explode into fractal epiphanies of euphoria and despair. I’ve ended a war and saved myself from immortal terror, I lost my identity, but found a voice in the ensuing maelstrom of madness. Now the conduit of my essence drains inspiration from the stars above. I even died, I died because I felt my dreams die, and I saw phantoms dance in my room while I cried. But, I was given life again, I came back, confident and even more prepared for quests into my mind and the metaphysical dimensions.
Now at 22, and with a multitude of psychoactive journeys to draw upon, each facet of existence seems more vivid, beautiful, and dynamic. I know that the grass dances as nimbly as the fire and night-riding clouds could be elder wyrms or sky serpents born of antique legend, though now they fly wreathed in amorphous, vaporous veils, so that none may behold their millenniums-old dragon scales. Little else is as beautiful as the shimmering of rainbow dragon scales underneath a full moon, and the Psilocybin Mushroom, an ancient recipe of Mother Earth’s, enables adventurers of the modern age to experience one of the last frontiers, besides the impregnable oceanic vaults and the vastness of outer space. I’m glad to be a modern adventurer, exploring beyond the boundaries of the mind, what better place is there to explore than the mind and the invisible world?
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