DOSE:	25 mg		2C-B
		smoked	Cannabis	(plant material)

BODY WEIGHT:

90 kg

This day had most importantly consisted of a trip with a friend of mine, who came over and did 2C-B with me, along with some weed that we smoked in a bong between the gushes of the ride. What I came to were many things, so many things I don’t think I’ll be able to process them in a sober mind for many years, for many chains were knit together today. I was swept through a landscape of the molecule’s interaction with my ordinary serotonergic update rates, stimulating the production of adrenaline and thusly controlling my heart rate. From this follows then, that it also increased the modulation frequency that outdoes my cognitive process, and, with the onset of a sublime body load, put me, by its rate of firing, which provided the harmonic vibes around which the cognition synchronized its activity, in a state of awareness which was iterated in its design on all sensuous modulation axes in a spectrum of my original world-view, so that I could watch my own consciousness on its bipolar interaction level, from up above it, in a blissful sea of awareness. This form of awareness then, allowed me to make introspective analyzes on how it came to be that things were as they were. These explanations were plentiful in numbers and in depth, so I was constantly beset by their influence on me.

The first thing we did after inducing the substance, was take a walk, after a first toke and some light conversation about I can’t remember what and whatnot. The forest was more alive than ordinarily, and yet I was merely in the grip of the beginning onsets of the effects of the molecule in my brain, for by now it had started its tumbling ride through my metabolism and would sooner or later build up a harmonic rate of half-life as it took mRNA-alterating step by step down the road of forgetfulness of time, down, down in a chain of conscious riddles which made me mostly unaware of what was my ordinary levels of cerebral function and which details I could discern were altered in some mechanical fashion. The singing of the birds was so far away that I wasn’t even aware of the matrices of harmonized spinning energy that is my ordinary distinguishing pattern for the singing chirpers in the treetops around us there, as anything that can be described as less abstract than pure mathematical algorithms displayed across my field of vision in magnetic colors divided into omni-dimensional iteration segments, and expanding my consciousness to be able to answer any question it set itself up to ask by adhering only to its inner self, this entity which was dying inside the reorganizing web of altered flow of signal substance I mean, the former personality that was out of synch with the flow of its regular metabolism.

I realized, for one thing, during all the never-ending excursions which were ranted on all wavelengths my sense organs could pick up and organize in a semantic system for me, that I was depressed compared to when I had lived in the city a few tens of kilometers away from my present abode. I realized it by listening so closely as the molecule allowed me to process, that I felt like I could discern the pattern instilled by the synthetic guiding system I had inside me. It was as if every sequence was tied to everything I perceived and focused on, and each of the conceived end results turned out to be of the same basic stuff that the central processing algorithm transmits on the carrier wave of omnipresent dialogue, the central echo of the Big Bang, if you will. The evolutionary chain that had led up to me had previously been discerned in great detail by yours truly, and it has been concluded by same that all things are impermanent and ever-floating into other things, of which they are made up, all of which by this reasoning assesses their non-existence as definitive objects; nothing is and nothing ever was, only process, running process of neverendness (a poly-dimensional inversion of the more common concept, eternity).

The sun was soon getting more intensive and the trip suddenly struck me as we left the former path for a more secluded and isolated area of the forest, and I had to sit down after only a few steps. I had a hard time perceiving things as other than through my paranoid paths, which led me to believe I was having a seizure or enormous loss of blood pressure or that I was falling asleep and into some kind of hypnagogic state of awareness; which in fact I was, in a way. I heard my buddy prate away on the old only-in-your-mind speech, which took me back to the possibility that I could actually question what was happening instead of being sucked into them from sheer cognitive inactivity. We walked on back, because I had to get out of this place where I couldn’t feel safe, where midges and rustling leaves, the reorganization of the white clouds in speckled topology upon the deep blue vastness, where there was simply so much external stimuli, I couldn’t find any rest at all, and constantly moved towards a state of panic.

The walk home found me possessed by a paranoid rant about how the universe was ending in something bordering on apocalyptic visions, concerning Christianity, the Mayan calendar and the present hype about the date December 21th, 2012, when their mathematical design for the universal sequencing had led them into a dead end. I wondered a lot about how that formula would affect a consciousness such as mine, filled with the notions of the Western world and its scientific teachings, its old lores of occult and philosophical as well as purely theological manuals and other literature on more esoteric topics and so on, filled with a very different nativity than the culture which had constructed this masterpiece – for this was how I thought of the same, for reasons which will presently become clear: I had come across a book about it by a Swedish guy with a Ph.D in physics, who lectured about this calendar in the US, as stated in his book, that it had been correct in pointing out several historical events of major importance, such as wars, conquests, cultural changes due to takeovers, a gradient of the peak of activity on the planet, which he among others argued, was moving westward, all this hinted at several thousands of years before it happened. There may be skepticism about its ordering of the prioritization in human history, but nevertheless, there is much to be said for many of these measured shifts that the Mayan calendar depicts, in the sense that they have been iterated by great artists whom made the world around them remember them as hypostatic reflections of the original occurrences, or, to put it another way: there is enough good reason in focusing on the details carried through the ages of the human history, kept in the human heart by its common culture as a tower of Babel inside us, to say that it can safely be used as a measure of what details were most important in a collectively established sense of the word. Well, to make a long story short, it was this map that kept me occupied in the way of reasoning here described, for the rest of our walk home – in search, on bottomless oceans of timeless introspections into everything I perceived, of the planar reasoning that sustained me as an individual – I was searching for places to sit down whenever the trip got too intense due to the multitude of impressions all around us, and with a tripper behind me, who didn’t seem as affected as I of all this, and instead asked that we’d slow down. The only thing that stopped me from running instead was the overbearing onslaught of paranoid ideas about Satan and God in a constant battle about my soul, the end of the world, the creeping sensation that I was never free anywhere, which then struck onto a final blow for God in the end, saved by the sunshine in my back upon the deep blue atmosphere beyond the summits of the pines and spruces dotting the remainder of our excavation of this strange place, from which I wanted more than anything to escape and to return into the shadows where I had built my home.

At last we were at the outskirts, but I had to sit down one extra time to recollect myself and face possible communication with entities enclosed in the update rates of cultural dogmas, from which I myself was a million light years into my chaotic dreams. But no problem faced us from neighbours or whatever else and we went inside again, safe and sound, or perhaps unsined is the correct expression in this case, if you grant me the liberty of an artistic invention. Unsined in difference from sined as in containing a linear dialogue with nature, following a sinus curve of ups and downs along its planar field of reasoning – not us, we were unsined to kingdom come! The only thing I could do for at least another hour or more probably two was sit and watch and be amazed at the descriptions coming to me from myself. And I also became more and more convinced that I had a trip guide with me; almost visible; or actually plainly visible as a moving pillar of streaming information, set in a psychedelic chaleidoscopic visual field... of reasoning, for, as I also concluded, these were all my memories stacked differently than I was used to, utilized along the axes of modulation that the molecule was more used to – ah, the looks of it in comparison to my usual supply of serotonin, this fantastic giggle toy, how sweet it seemed on my circus wheel as I went tumbling down the rabbit hole in search of leaving myself behind to be born again in another sanity. This also happened to me; I giving myself up to the universe, giving myself over to whatever forces might be able to untangle the mess I’ve made of myself these last few years of silence and solitude.

All in all, what I learned about existence was secondary to what I learned about myself as an individual, but the existence lesson was top of the line. A story for another time, however.

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 81381
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 30
Published: Mar 21, 2020	Views: 624
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2C-B (52) : General (1), Small Group (2-9) (17)