A few weeks back I decided to finally try pharmahuasca. On a rainy Saturday morning, I gulped down the bitter Syrian rue tea and chased it 15 minutes later with a shot glass of 195 mg of N,N-DMT thoroughly dissolved in lemon juice. What can I say? What resulted was one of the most grueling and terrifying psychedelic experiences I've ever had to endure, mainly because of its psychological nature.
Never have I struggled with my inner demons like I have during this experience. The negative preconceptions my loved ones have about intoxicating substances and those who experiment with them kept hammering my psyche nonstop. My loved ones' expectations and my shortcomings in life kept painting a vivid picture of me as a failure in my mind's eye. The thought of my inability to relate with most of the people in my daily life reinforced my conviction that solitude will be my best companion in life. Tears would constantly roll down my face, but I wasn't even crying.
Never have I thoroughly tasted mental illness like I have during this experience. I truly believe I entered a madman's frame of mind for a good portion of this experience. And how could one describe this madness? Words do not do such a malady justice, for it can only be experienced in order to truly comprehend it. Such despair, such debilitation, such helplessness! I can only empathize with those forsaken souls who live in mental cages throughout their lives. I am convinced that if there is a Hell, it can only be a mental one.
Never have I felt nearest to death like I have during this experience. No, I didn't feel as though I was having an adverse drug reaction, like I had on some RCs in the past. This felt more natural and spiritual in nature. I felt time dilate exponentially. It was 12 o'clock for about 1 hour in my mind. I was paralyzed in one position on my bed, just staring at the ceiling as if I were caught up in some kind of stupor. At the same time, I was hyperaware of everything, internally and externally, from the rhythm of my heartbeat to the faint sound of my breathing, from the raindrops falling on the house to the faint ambulance sirens afar. I had this comforting sense of an aura emanating from me, as if I were sensing my "subtle body". I can only imagine that this is what a person experiences when undergoing a natural death.
Never have I viewed the human condition in such a different light like I have during this experience. I must note that the visuals were barely existent throughout all of this, but the representation of thoughts and ideas in my mind's eye was so realistic. I began to ponder about the history of life on Earth and started to replay many historic events in my mind. My deductions? History is but one enormous tale of imposition upon imposition, conquest upon conquest, whether it be physical or ideological. Struggle is inherent to the structure of this universe, in a harmonious sort of way. And then Jesus popped into my head with his attitude of non-resistance and spiritual resignation. "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's." At first glance this seems completely anti-revolutionary, and then I got to thinking that if the struggle is the driving force of the universe, then that would make Jesus' mode of thought the truly revolutionary one. And then I got to doubting myself, wondering whether Jesus' stance is only part of the struggle.
Never have I felt such gratefulness like I have during this experience. In the last hour and a half of this experience, I was overcome by such a sense of discovery, for lack of a better word. I felt as though I had a "Eureka!" moment. I kept repeating to myself the words "This is it," as if the sensation I was having encapsulated the essence of everything. I felt grateful for experiencing what I experienced; I felt worthy after enduring the pain that I endured, when there were times where I felt like calling for help; I felt worthy for being a part of this great chain of being, as if I were some kind of initiate in all of this. Serene reflection carried on after the experience.
"'Most men will not swιm before they are able to.' Is not that witty? Naturally, they won't swιm! They are born for the solid earth, not for the water. And naturally they won't think. They are made for life, not for thought. Yes, and he who thinks, what's more, he who makes thought his business, he may go far in it, but he has bartered the solid earth for the water all the same, and one day he will drown."
— Hermann Hesse