MYCOPAX


After my MYCOMYSTERIUM experience, I felt the strong urge to reconcile myself with my dear friends, the little children, princes, the bald ones, the cubes that square us one up to higher powers, the little voices…

I wanted to recreate more or less the same conditions, adding a couple of variants to slightly alter the experience and add assurance that the scales would tip favorably; so I was at my chalet, alone, on a sunny day’s end when I dosed the fungus at exactly 5pm. The changes were as follows : 1 hour 45 minutes prior I had swallowed 10 little peruvian torch resin globs, totalling 5.3g, and a cup of coffee 1 hour later to potentiate the mescaline and stave off the mushroom sleepies; the dose this time was 2.2g of a familiar, homegrown fungus – a mix of 0.6g F+, and 1.6g Golden Teacher.

At 5 :30pm I began the walk around the 2 acres of my land, exactly as I had previously; I arrived at the place I call the junction and laid down the same grandmotherly blanket and prostrated myself upon it, exactly as I had done before, eyes skyward and legs akimbo.

The mescaline was subtle - light waves of tingling wellness and beatitude; the little ones latched on for the ride and things began their transforming within and without : what SYNERGASM! I decided to try a piece of advice given to me on the nexus chat by Cellux , refering me to an adyashanti video (really not my thing, but sometimes my things are things that prevent other things from being things, SO…).

I was restfully aware, clearing the clutter and clatter and banishing the chatter that ordinarily webs and waters and batters my thoughts. I could not hold the state long, but the mutating clouds above certainly helped focus my attention and prolong the calm. If ever angels be, they were flitting in those clouds that day :

I saw winged wisps and vapourous visages somervaulting from irridescent tendril to thin cottony spiral…

Ahh what peace there can be!! What utter calm and transcendent absence, inhabiting my being and singing the silent song of endlessness :::

O There, the OTher…

But of course, it ended; the chatter resumed, albeit quieted like a child reprimanded. And I stood. And reminded myself :

Don’t forget to connect the DISCONNECT.

Standing staring through the trees at the lake beyond, I realize :

The moment the lake ceases to be a LAKE and the trees TREES, in this moment there is meaning. We need to strip away all the boxes and parcels, move house, MOVE EM OUT DA WAY, discard the meaning we attribute to arrive at a truly meaningful moment. And then, of course, move back into the emptied house.


.KNOW the LEDGE-0
._Ledge;_1
._Know_1
.__It, see__2
.___It, teeter ___3
._____At It’s edge, but know_____5
.________We shall go no further until ________8
._____________ it’s TIME to go where the ledge leads, past the know to BE_____________13

And then I went back to the gallery that circles my chalet, and all of the FOLLOWING poured/poored/pored/pureed out of me :

The silence is Replete
Turgid
BURSTING
fullof the unheard

And who wants to hear the heard?
Who wants the herd to here?
Who wants the air houred?
Live your own time
Make your own silence
And have it heard

All here-ing beg ins wit thin,
So thin the wit to beg within
And the here-ing within shall bellow out,
And speak loudest.

And when it speaks,
Done knot forge-get two con-necked thud is co-necked

Only in solitude is the plenty
Appreciated
WEIGHED
Understood
APPREHENDED

I stood under my comprehension in the solitude of the plentiful.

When words fail, fail words
We are words, but words are the we that must be abandoned to find the US

STROLL, LAUGH. Words, fail. Fail words. Sdrowl laif.

I am the mirror that absorbs.
I am a wave that was a particle that waved, way-ved part-I-call the soul.
THE PARTICLE MYSELF :
The part I call mice-elf is not the sole way-ve,
Until I need to call it a part.
And then I wave, and I am no longer a part
I call a wave.
I am I. Maya. Ayam Maya. Both and neither.
Hello, place to meetcha
Place to me to you
PLAYS TOMB EAT YA.

I am the order in N-trapeze
The chaos in N-shall be
The entropy in Awe-rder
& the enthalpy in Key-us
I am gravity
I am loss
I am light
I am US.
I am merely a word in a mind that knows not itself.
I am divine,
I am a part of divinity
Eden Ive had a trap ‘o maya,
Ayam o’ part a dahevenede
I AM A PART OF DIVINITY

Imagine the space between the source and the echo. That is me. That is where we all reside.
I am the beat between rhythm and arhythmia,
Search for me between sounds, between moments, between tocks in the silent room.
Bet we e’en; Even, we bet.

:::::::: ::::::::


There is a man on a dock. I see him from my vantage on the dock.
Is he there to take flight or to rest? Leaving or arriving?
He is joined by another.

A pair of docks.

Oh. You thought I meant another man. (what you meant and what you (thought I) meant)
No he was joined by a pair of docks.
One his body. One his mind.
One arriving, one leaving behind.
A paradox.

How pull awe-ful!
p-law foul
Pllafl
Playful
Foul play

Hear not with these ears, for they are flaweD,
Here not with these I’s, for they obscure(d)
Hair not with these fingers, for broken they be,
Higher only with the mind that is still
And the you that is ME

That is still
The mind

Till still’s till ‘n the mined no more
The mined is not aS and, but as Ore.
The’yre’s all waves chawyce in Ores
Wherea S and slips twixt the finn-gores.

Language is the tongue that laps at my mind. And while delectable, tis the savour that dissimulates the simulation.

When I dull the clatter around, for a brief moment, I hear the mechanism of the universe. I apprehend its silence.

VOLUMINOUS.

Poetry is the efficacious employment of words to express & access the divine. There is no 3rd person in poetry. Poetry is I.

POW! A TREE!!
Pow a tree is eye.
POW! A TREE EYE SEE!!

If EYE am divine and employ myself efficaciously, I shall reside in poetry. Poetry is the wealth in poverty of words; less is more; the min is max, the cosmos a grain of sand, the universe a mind.

I am no more than these words.
Nor. Are. You.
You. Are. Poetry.

:::::::: ::::::::

I spend my days lost in a cloud of filth; lift the filth and enjoy the noise, for the choice for noise is an acknowledgment of silence, an admitting of the still that moves. And it moves through you, electric and vapourous.

Always remember that all (ways you remember) and ALL that you remember is nothing when stacked against ALL that has been forgotten.

Amidst the shouts and tears and laughter
And all the multifarious cries of life
I hear a voice that whispers love and strife
And wails the slippery and adamantine truth :
That whether by decay or accident or rage or noose
Where I was before, this is where I shall go after……….

ENJOY. EVERY. BRIEF. MOMENT. OF. YOUR. EXISTENCE. AS. IT. PASSES. FROM. THE. FUTURE. THROUGH. YOU. AND. BEYOND. MEMORY.

Do not miss the time to dance, for once missed it dances on without and within.


A bark is a dog’s way of imposing some sense over the universe; I am J. J is I’s closest neighbour;

I AM JBArk, and what I bark is words to my bite. Thanks for letting me sink my teeth in.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This trip I would characterize as less profound and more playful; although I have noted that the two are not necessarily exclusive. I have exorcised the demon I created and made my peace with the fungus.

Well...

the boy can certainly write

LOVED this.

Thank you very much.

That was amazing! Keep on barking, J

Glad you enjoyed Soulfish!! This is probably the most abstract/poetic/disjointed of my reports, so i really didn't know what the response would be. Thanks for taking the time to read it, and thanks for the compliment!!

JBArk

I shall bark till the bones of J are no more...

love these!

You are the funniest person I have ever read and I loved the playfulness.

It's all I can do to refrain from talking to you/me/is/it in the same language/non-lain-goo-age, but i Am not as fluent as you, J. I will work on this.

Thanks!! the humour comes through, great!! I take myself pretty seriously, but always with a grain of salt! The "lain-goo-age" comes from the mushrooms, not me...

Thanks again for reading. I love writing these things only slightly more than I love sharing them!

JBArk

barking mad? or barking sane with insanity/within sanity.

I thoroughly enjoyed this and almost every report you post. And my little ones are almost ready....

This is mushroomspeak I love it jbark....you really seem to capture the spirit of the fungus with the syntax!!

Thanks for reading. "Almost"? Which one didn't you enjoy? And grow those little ones, tend after them!! They are a marvel to watch grow. I can't wait to spawn again!

JBArk

Almost literally. Twas the mushrooms that spoke, I only lent frequency to their voice. I am planning to do more sessions like this one: relatively low doses and 4 hour writing sessions. Very therapeutic. Highvory cerebellum soap.

JBArk

Hah, excellent jbark

Its funny because I was expecting a trip report in the sense of what you did, what happened and so on.. But it was actually more of a tour into your brain's language center going bezerk (or going sane? ). In a way I would say you didnt make any sense hahaha, but then again by having also had certain similar experiences, I can understand it, how each concept and word is interconnected to a network of meanings and associations, and one can develop all sorts of very complex ideas with simple play of words or playful linguistic patterns

Did you ever trip with someone and tried to "hack" language like this together with someone else? Im sure that would be a very interesting experience, too bad we're so far away

Anyways, congrats on the experience, glad you've been working over any difficulties you had with them little ones, and that you have been able to find this playful exploring side of psychedelics too.


on and btw.. that silent song is copyrighted

Thanks for reading endlessness!! And yeah, but I warned you this one was different!! Basically I sat down on a low dose and just let my pen take me where my mind was. A little editing and tightening after, and here you have it - a mushmesc MYCOPAX litanous spew of consciousness, a linguistic ejaculation from paper to binary generated lettrage, from my entheogenated grey fleshsponge out to your mind (I can only hope...).

I quite liked this dose level and combination. Not heavy enough to lose oneself, but enough to open the dykegates of imagination. I will definitely be repeating this experience. And undoubtedly sharing it here, for anyone interested.



Damn, would I love that!! I'll let you know if i am ever in your neck o the woods and we'll entheogenate and lingua franca the gloss of lalia! Damn again and once more damn, would I love that! The only person I have to share that here with is Shayku, and our schedules don't collide often enough!



But if it's silent, how do you propose enforcing the copyright, let alone recognizing the endless silence?

JBArk

jbark,

Thank you for sharing this remarkably creative and delightfully funny work. Mushrooms are so clever, aren't they? I LOVE what they do with language. It is so amazing.

Do you normally write poetry? Is it at all anything like this, so clever and playful with the language?

Thanks again. I had fun!