Just wanted to post this for inspiration. I have seen a couple of reports but after days
of research this was the best report for orally active acrb. The experience... sort of...
sounds like ingesting alcohol. Sounds like it is active but MAOI is needed for real DMT effects.
It is taken from neurosoup, but is interesting, regardless.
http://neurosoup.info/tr...c-plants/acacia-confusa/"Purists would go nuts over my quick brew. I didn’t purchase any Syrian Rue, I didn’t purchase caapi. I wanted to take it on in the raw, see if it had anything under the hood without the clatter of a MAOI in the background. I was desperate. I’m on the cusp of following my late father into the easy early swirls of alcoholism. It runs in the family. We all love to swill our gin, slam our bourbon, guzzle our wine. Even a failed Zen fanboy like myself has some self-respect left. And it was with that bit I had left that I placed my hopes on acacia confusa.
This, dear reader, will not be the usual acid report, the shroom narrative, nor will it be the archetypal aya report. After I boiled my rainbow dust for twenty minutes in distilled water, I strained it through on old grey shirt directly into a used pickle jar. The stuff smelled faintly of plastic, but that’s just my funny way of saying: it smelt different, earthy, maybe…exotic.
I swirled the tea-dark liquid in the sunlight, holding it eye level, trying to imagine what DMT molecules looked like. McKenna was talking in my head about elves, elf machines, and the Voice. Would I hear the Voice too? I was willing to try.
I poured the distillation up, plunked some ice cubes in it, stirred in some lemon juice for taste. I was determined to slam it back like so much whiskey, samurai style. My depression makes me that desperate; my addiction to a trio of stiff martinis a quarter past three makes me wish to be free of that soft, seductive purr of lady liquor.
I did the deed, tilting my head back, taking the liquid down, tossing it down to my gut.
Yes, I’m quite aware that DMT will be null and void without a proper MAOI. But this was Jekyll science. This was me clawing at the edges of my box, willing to see something new that others had not. Americans love their mayo and mustard. Salt anoints everything. Our tongues are quite protected from Mother Earth. Thanks to my hard training in the invisible sciences, I had long ago done away with McDonald’s dualism (the “this is crap because it’s not a cheeseburger” attitude).
I admit, however, I was voting for fairies and elves.
But that’s not what I got. You need a MAOI for such things, or at least, as McKenna says, “5 grams” of mushrooms (I’ll go that direction next trip). However, fifteen minutes after quaffing this batch, maybe even five minutes after slamming, I received “surcease of sorrow” as Poe puts it; I felt my psychic load, my particular 8 track loop, stop looping negatively. I felt like I had tilted back two quick martinis. Not bad. Not bad at all.
I’m no botanist, and I can’t say at all what is active without a MAOI in this root, but there is something more than “asian aya” racing through confusa. It acts like a blissful antidepressant, an SSRI without the customary psychic shackles. Gone was my anxiety. Banished was my dull dread of winter’s gray skies. And yes I am well aware of what the great pseudo science (psychology) says about the power of belief, the latent spell of the placebo effect. This was no placebo effect. Five times now have I looked to my rainbow tea for relief, and five times each I have received this blissful washing of my marrow, my blood, my brain. The magic is in the root you grind.
Acacia confusa, at least in my experience, is a blessed savior as I dare to live without velvet vodka. Sure, I dream of her, sexy martini. But the rainbow tree has cut my body’s tether to alcohol’s glamour. With rainbow tea, I will be able to survive, crawl through those dry gulches of addiction, and enjoy when I can the intoxicating memory of Madame alcohol, but not her lips to mine. But would our liquor lobbyists in congress let this last should this knowledge be made public? Probably not. Big Pharm, I think, has an alliance with Big Ethyl. And Uncle Sam, as uncool as he is, would rather us crawl inside a bottle, puff a pack of Camels, and swallow a string of SSRIs than find something almost free, something good for our spirits, something truly nurturing to our brain. But until then, we always, Dear Uncle, we always have war.
And that’s what scares me."