DOSE:

5 hits

smoked

Changa

BODY WEIGHT:

120 lb

This was a very intense, full circle spiritual experience. The DMT was smoked in the form of changa. I had smoked a few hits of weed about an hour before. I don't smoke weed very often, so I was quite high while I was preparing the jar you will read about. I wasn't high anymore by the time I moved to the window. After the whole experience, I was amazed at how much I could remember. The fragmented phrases are to help create the mood of the experience.

Frankincense. A rose quartz. A conjoined two pointed quartz. Roses of loved ones past. A green feather. A purple butterfly. Sprinkled in glistening moon dust. A small amount of water. All kept up inside of a mason jar. Placed atop mimosa jars. A crystal point on top, an amethyst, a danburite, aquamarine, flourite in quartz. Smoke encircles it all, and I lay the pipe in reverence. All charging, while I breathe the heat and enjoy my tea. No questions, only do.

My lover is sleeping. I pull the curtain from the window so the embrace of the blue moon can light the room, and cast soft shadows on my lover's face. I place a copper planter on the window sill. Next to it I place a smudge bowl, my rose jar, the pipe, the lighter, my pendulum. I position my twin dolls in their display to admire la Luna. Get reverence.

Where is my crystal? Under the pillow? Under the covers? Under my leg? Where? Searching.. searching... You don't really need it. Oh, here it is. Jokes, always jokes!

Santo palo smoke dances over, through, around it all, around my lover, (feel his heart beating) and give thanks to the light of the blue moon. I gaze into my jar of roses - my jar of loss, pain, grievance. I thank it. I love it. 'Everything is always. It always Is. Darkness, shadows, light can dance across its surface, but it doesn't change what Is.'

Deep meditation, fixated on the face in the sky. I am.

Is it time? Am I ready? I'm nervous. I feel.

What if.. what if... what if... No! I reach for the pipe. I do.

Breath, hold, release. Breath, hold, release. My hands begin to dance across the air, playing luminescent harp strings, making patterns and harmony. I focus on my rose jar and direct the moon to full lunar symphony. Take one more.

Bombardment. Pop up ads! Everywhere! Look here! This is this, that is that. I put my finger to a hush and whisper to my jar. 'I am very powerful being. Do not distract me.' Purple, green, gold coils, pink flourishes. My body sways without though. This is not my body.. this simply is.. the Mind.

Should I smoke more? I've been here awhile. Its Ok! Take it! Take it!

I fall back in bliss, lightly landing with my head to my lovers heart. Thump, thump, thump, a continuous energy eminating through him, through me, through the moon. A perfect view: the moon shines directly in picture with the twin dolls gazing at the great round disc. This is the most romantic thing I've ever done alone. I'm not alone! He is sleeping, his heart is beating, he is right here with me. I curl toward him. My hand plays music across his chest and face. Oneness. Perfect oneness. I love.

My lover stirs! I stir! He settles. I sit up. I am coming back. Do I want to come back? Is now the time? Take another, there is more in store.

I hold my heart, I offer it to the moon. I offer the rose jar energy to the moon. I look inside. I wipe my heart - pages with folded corners out so that I can never flip back. I pull the slime, black, sticky, dripping with green pus from the chest of my lover, and weave it back into a new hand song for the moon. All the dogs in the neighborhood are barking. The moon is calling, and we are calling back. I open my mouth, poetry arrives.

The past, it has past
into the gracious blue moon.
Free at last, to last!

I speak.

Descend. Descend. Down down down. No! Back up I say! Smoke!

Oh that was big! Was it too big? Oh god! What if?!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Full boar! I am floored! Collapse backward, legs spread to the moon! Her energy shoots through me, bursts my heart, cracks my skull! I am being pressed down upon! I can't move! Abrasive yellow screens lined in abrasive blue, making abstractions of the most wretched thoughts and actions of the world. Its not the world! Its... oh god... this is... ME. Ohhhhh... ohhhhh... sorrow.. sorrow.. you did this, you asked for this, you took the hit! This is you! this is YOU! THIS IS YOU!!!!!

I see.

A little voice says no. Oh no.. no. No. No! NO!
THIS ISN'T ME!
THIS ISN'T ME ANYMORE!
I smash through the screen with a swipe of both my hands. I sit up.
This isn't me anymore.
This isn't me.
.......anymore.

And I laugh. A tear in my eye, and I laugh.

I understand.

....

Breathing, breathing, weaving, weaving, singing, singing. My body slowly accepts me, but I remain and float in and out like a feather drifting and falling in an upward breeze.

My, this was fun. No, this IS fun! You are still here, you are still in that space. Darkness, shadows, light can dance across its surface, but it doesn't change what Is.

I place my rose jar into the copper planter in front of the open window. I pick up my pendulum and spin love and release spirals, and lay it in the planter as well. I open up the rose jar to let it soak up the moon beams, and allow the water to evaporate and pass over the contents of the jar and out into the great night. The breeze lifts the scent of frankincense and fills the room with a light aroma. I lay the pipe angled to the moon light to bathe. I light the santo paulo from the smudge bowl, and toss ribbons of cleansing across the layout, across me, across my sleeping lover.

Thanks, thanks, and more thanks. Blessings upon blissings upon blessings.

I go into the bathroom, and there I am. Right in the mirror.

Exp Year: 2012	ExpID: 97520
Gender: Female
Age at time of experience: 24
Published: Jul 31, 2019	Views: 1,500
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Changa (816) : Poetry (43), General (1), Alone (16)