Citation: Pablo. "North Woods Winter Memories: An Experience with Morning Glory (exp96258)". Erowid.org. Mar 28, 2021. erowid.org/exp/96258
North Woods Winter Morning Glory Memories
I am sitting on the floor of the mouse-infested cabin, alone, not six inches from the television screen. Since the cabin is in the midst of the vast North Woods and its January, 1992, the analog TV with no visible antenna gives black-and-white interference, a blizzard of static noise. Nothing else is available, just this. And yet, to me, it is intensely fulfilling and energizing, imparting wondrous and mysterious beauty. I cannot look away. Iím experiencing a mental or spiritual orgasm, which is the same thing as saying Iíve arrived at a state of complete and utter bliss. Nothing else matters. This is the familiar sensation Iíd later come to pursue through other means as diverse as modern pharmaceuticals, exercise, mushrooms, sex, entrepreneurialism, conversation, sailing, dance music, world travel. Nearly everything links back to it, this sensation. It is, after all, physically and at its core a result of an internal rush of chemical stimuli in the brain, either endo- or exogenous, or some felicitous combination of the two. As such, it is not most appropriately discussed as cause but rather as effect.
Todd and J. Stack and Menzel and Leubner [not their real names] are off at the titty bar, and here I am alone in someoneís fatherís ratty cabin beside a frozen lake entering a Nirvanic state, a life-altering state, having only recently escaped the gates of Hell in which I dissociated from my body and saw myself behaving as a stuttering psych patient, unable to communicate logically and tortured thereby as I watched myself as one might watch another. I watched the boys watch me, in amazement and wonder. I could not speak, was consumed by shame, may have pissed my pants at one point, and was literally ready for a straightjacket and paddywagon to come take me away. No one thought to have me examined by a health professional, as they had no idea what was going on behind my dilated and horror-filled eyes. For all I knew, this was to be a permanent condition. No matter that it had come on only after ingesting four packets of ďHeavenly BlueĒ morning glory seeds, boiled in two cups of water over a Coleman stove. The chemical stimulus was inconsequential, as the conscious experience of actual insanity had caused me to negate, discount, forget what I had so brazen done, anyway.
They are standing over me, I am looking up at them. Their faces look demonic, treacherous. I can almost read Toddís mind as he seemingly reviews various courses of action whereby he might exploit my sudden disability to his own benefit. He has become a ravenous wild animal, a beast of the night, and I his broken-winged prey. They stand off and counsel among themselves. They seem to be plotting my disembowelment or possibly my rape and burial through a hole in the ice. Never have I been so horrified, even by the most dangerous criminals and psychopaths whose paths I have crossed over the years. Each moment is excruciating, pregnant as it is with looming disaster. All that I am, all I ever have been, is nil, meaningless, wholly without any purpose or order. Iím a nobody, and will die this way, Iím certain, probably very soon.
They leave to go find the strip club. The thought of accompanying them in my destroyed state had provoked a new wave of blubbering and anxiety-paralyzed stuttering. I was able to make clear that I would not be ready anytime soon for such pursuits. It was timely, since I had become unable to tolerate their presence, and they surely were sick and tired of my buzz-kill schizophrenia. Now the cabin is cold and dark. Iím gripped with fear. A classic bad trip. I have to shit and piss but cannot bring myself to so much as shuffle myself to the bathroom. Instead I click on the TV in search of relief. I can find nothing but the hiss of granular dots on the screen.
Somehow, sometime, either imperceptibly slowly or all at once, I pass through the Pearly Gates. A biblical flood of dopamine drops from the sky like a tropical rainstorm. All questions are answered, all pain has become laughably insignificant. I find the inscrutable fuzz on the screen to be intensely interesting, like I am a shaman reading a toss of the chicken bones. Tears flow, I pass my hands over my head. I am laughing to myself, yet sober as a judge. I could easily speak before a large audience, I am so calm and self-assured. All of my faculties, which just ten minutes ago had been scattered across a deserted hollow land, have now rearranged themselves in a blissful and harmonic whole. Iím ready to turn water into wine, feed a throng with two loaves of bread. I breathe pure energy vapor, and step softly like Gautama. If I had known the writings of Krishnamurti then, I would have understood every word, every seeming paradox. Nothing is required. I could exist on star energy alone for ten thousand years.
The guys return. Now I am no longer a mute idiot, but rather a guru who understands their mad sexual urges and lust for bare titties on a higher plane. Iím an eighty-year-old in my twenty-two year old body. I donít have much to say and so smile beatifically. The dear children must play, and fritter away their money on alcohol, dancing girls, high-potency marijuana. I am beyond pity, as there is nothing left but acceptance. The world and its horrors will spin recklessly into the future, and no one should exert a speck of resistance. Todd notes my condition has improved drastically and says, ďYouíre just glad to be feeling better.Ē My ancient mind does not care where theyíve been, what they saw, or what happened tonight. It is attuned rather to brotherly human fellowship, and the peace there may be in companionship. Since theyíre drunk and burned out after their evening at the club, they flop on their sleeping bags and are soon snoozing softly. Meanwhile, I am enthralled with the meaning of existence, and revel in the vast beauty of this dark winter night.
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