		 DOSE:
 T+ 0:00
		 2 hits
		 sublingual
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

		   T+ 0:30
		 1 tablet
		 oral
		 MDMA
		 (pill / tablet)

		   T+ 0:00
		 0.5 g
		 smoked
		 Cannabis
		 (plant material)

		   T+ 2:00
		 1 tablet
		 oral
		 MDMA
		 (pill / tablet)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   135 lb

Before you begin reading this story, there are certain aspects of my life that you must understand: first, this was my first encounter with LSD and MDMA; second, I am writing about this experience after experimenting with LSD four additional times following this trip; third, prior to this occurrence I have limited my drug use to what I will call more ‘organic’ methods (i.e. ganja and mushrooms). My subscription to this school of thought has changed into a quasi-I’ll-do-this-but-not-that-for-x-and-y-reasons which will become clear later. Finally, I shared this journey with a dear friend (we shall call him R) who has explored his mind with both MDMA and LSD on various occasions.

Let us now investigate how these drugs came into our possession (an aspect of this story which unintentionally brought the MDMA into our space). While preparing for our journey, R and I planned on taking two tabs of LSD each; after calling up R’s friend, we were enlightened to the fact that he had both LSD and MDMA in his possession. Because I had only planned on experiencing LSD once, I agreed to try both. We met R’s friend and picked up 4 tabs and 4 pills in total. In hopes of experiencing these drugs to their full potential (which I will later realize was a naive assertion), R and I headed to New York City where we would attend the last sets of a music festival and a DJ set/after party and then ultimately crash at my apartment.

Before heading to the events, we made a pit stop at my apartment where we would prepare and consume our newfound delights. R cut up the tabs and we placed them under our tongues. The time was approximately 8:30PM. We continued to get ready to leave—approximately 30 minutes after taking the tabs we ingested one MDMA pill each. It should be noted that throughout the onset of both drugs we smoked approximately .5 gram of ganja from a vaporizer. To pass the time, I opened my computer and selected an eclectic selection of music (Mr. Oizo, Franz List, Flying Lotus, Animal Collective). Approximately 20 minutes passed and I looked over at R. His pupils were extremely dilated and he expressed odd sensations throughout his body. My pupils remained at a normal size; my body felt completely normal, although I became aware of various instruments and sounds in the music which I had never before noticed. I was enjoying this already.

R continued to revel in his newfound high as the intense sensations of the MDMA and visual hallucinations from the LSD crept into his body and mind. During this period I was overcome by an intense chill and slight nausea. I was quite aware of what I had just ingested, and I thus allowed these feelings to enter my body. I knew if I was to attack or suppress the feelings I would lead myself down a dark path which would only lead to a bad trip. I put my nausea on a pedestal and reveled in the power of such a silly feeling. Without notice, R turned off the lights in hopes of changing the mood. It worked—this is when my experience began to truly sprout. I turned up the music and closed my eyes for a moment. Just as I did this, I felt a pleasant energy growing inside me.

This energy continued to develop as a wave of happiness and joy fell over my presence. The energy felt like a candle glowing in a dark room where its light filled the room with a subtle glow of serenity. As I examined this feeling R suggested that we dance in the darkness. As the words rolled off his tongue there was nothing I would have rather been doing. I jumped out of my seat and began a trance-like dance to Ratatat. As R and I danced, I felt my emotions follow the buildup of the song (Cherry).

As we reached the climax of the song I closed my eyes as the energy inside me intensified. Finally, as the song exploded my body was filled with a raw, beautiful feeling which can only be described with one word: ecstasy. I now understood why the drug was given its name. In effect, I was gripped by feelings of pure, unadulterated bliss and happiness. The music rippled through every molecule in my body as I swayed back and forth. Each sound wave brought new feeling and emotion into my heart. R and I continued to dance as I focused on this amazing feeling that had taken hold of my body. At 10:15PM we decided that we should probably get ready to go. R turned on the light and I walked over to the computer.

I noticed that I had a difficult time focusing on the pulsating words of my music library. My attention shifted towards my recently bookmarked websites as I attempted to pull up some art to feast my eyes upon. As the picture (artwork by Alex Grey) appeared in front of my eyes, I was intrigued by a feeling that it was actually alive. The painting grabbed my attention and sucked me deep into its consciousness. While I had previously ‘tripped’ on mushrooms, I had never witnessed such an event. The hallucinations began to intensify as I lost myself in the pulsating colors. I found myself creating the story of the image in my head as I walked through its journey in our world. I thought: who really created this image? No man alone could create something so powerful. God must have been involved. The image raised itself from the screen and came to me. I could do nothing but chuckle. I felt humbled by this artist’s talent. To this day (1 mushroom and four LSD experiences later), I have yet to experience art in such a way. By in large, this was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I continued to stare at the image until I was brought back to reality by R.

R expressed a desire to leave and I expressed a longing to stay for a bit longer to enjoy the artwork. To appease us both, he said we could stay longer if we ingested the second MDMA pill. I agreed. As R prepared our second dosing, I began to feel an odd quirk in my jaw. I noticed that as I was speaking my bottom lip/jaw would shift to the right. While not alarming, I was certainly intrigued. I began to discuss the many feelings I was experiencing with R as they continued to blossom inside me. During my examination of the ongoing shifts in my demeanor, I noticed that my trip was about to take a new direction.

My general behavior shifted dramatically as I had an increasing desire to sit and speak with R for no other reason than to discuss varying matters in our lives and how they relate to the world around us. This desire quickly grew into an obsession—I was unwilling to do anything but sit and open our minds to this new portal which I was previously blind to. Before I fully discuss this part of our trip, I must give you a disclaimer: many of the ‘actualizations’ that R and I experienced during this part of our trip are specific to R and I. Thus, I will refrain from discussing them all. I will however say that I have never had such an enlightening experience in my life.

While my mood continued to shift, I could feel my body reacting to the oncoming experience. Aside from the quirk in my jaw, parts of my body began to feel foreign. I’ve discussed this feeling with R on numerous occasions and I have come to the conclusion that my movements and general demeanor were extremely passionate and unrefined—in effect, my unreserved movements directly reflected whatever emotion or feeling I was attempting to express. After a final back-and-forth regarding the second pill, we each ingested the MDMA and began on a spiritual journey into the depths of our minds.

Despite our original agreement, R continued to plague me about leaving so we could go to the party and smoke a cigarette outside. I told him that I would allow him to smoke the cigarette inside if he just permitted me to sit with my thoughts for a moment. R sat across the table from me as he quietly enjoyed his cigarette. When he was finished, he set it on the table in front of me. As he did this I felt drawn to the butt of the cigarette. I picked it up in my hand and held it between my pointer finger and thumb. As I held the cigarette I began to feel a strange force transfer from the cigarette to my body.

I looked at R as I expressed this odd sensation. With a puzzled look, R said: “What are you talking about dude?” I replied: “R, I don’t know how to fully describe this feeling, but this cigarette is extremely powerful.” Once again, we looked at each other and were at a loss for words. All of a sudden, I realized that the more that R and I interacted, the more intense the force from the cigarette felt. Instead of relating this, I asked R why he enjoyed smoking cigarettes so much. Instead of being authentic, R declared that he enjoyed smoking them because “they get me more fucked up.” I knew he was telling a half-truth. After a short confrontation, R became a bit annoyed at my prodding. I then noticed that I was squeezing the cigarette tightly as my body rocked back and forth. As I observed my peculiar movements, I had a realization concerning R’s metaphysical relationship to finding his ‘next high’ and constantly wishing he was somewhere he wasn’t. While I thought this over, I was subconsciously crushing the cigarette until I was left with just the fibers and glue of the filter.

I stood up and walked over to R and asked him to sit down on the couch with me. As we sat on the chair I took his hands and grasped them as tightly as I could. He returned the gesture—while gritting my teeth and sliding my jaw to the side, I passionately posed a rhetorical question: “Why can’t we appreciate the space we are in right now? Why do we have to smoke more weed? Smoke more cigarettes? Is there some objectifiable feeling that warrants such selfish desires?” We stood up and started squeezing each other’s hand with even more force than just moments ago. My voice and demeanor became more ferocious as I continued speaking. “Unless we can appreciate the moment we are in right now, we will never be able to appreciate the next cigarette or next pull of weed because we are always yearning for what’s next, no matter how satisfied we may or may not be! Instead of actually living, we are constantly preoccupied with what we have convinced ourselves will make us live ‘more.’ The only result of such an absurd mindset is that we end up not living at all.” R and I continued our back and forth for a few moments until I finally felt satisfied with my short tirade.

R and I sat back and ingested what had just happened. It quickly became apparent that our plans for the night were about to change—the goal of tonight no longer was to ‘trip balls’ and have a good time at a music festival—instead, R and I were about to take a journey that would transform our lives forever. While attempting to digest this reality, I realized that I had to urinate. I got up from the couch and meandered over to the bathroom, often stopping to observe the newfound intricacies of my surroundings. After relieving myself, I turned on the faucet to wash my hands. Although the water was gushing out of the sink, I felt as if I could feel each individual droplet of water slide off the palms of my hands. It was delightful and intriguing at the same time. I splashed the water on my face, accompanied by a refreshing and slippery sensation over my eyes and cheeks.

After this delightful encounter with water, I looked up into the mirror. At first, I was most intrigued by the angularity of my jaw—something which I had never noticed. My cheeks were quite flush and my facial hair was extremely pronounced. I studied this for a moment until I looked into my eyes. Expecting to be greeted by two dilated pupils, I was instead alarmed to find that my left eye was almost completely closed. As a side note, I must mention that I have a severe astigmatism in my left eye—a struggle I have dealt with my entire life. When I am extremely tired I can look in the mirror and notice a slight dip in my left eyelid, but never anything as extreme as what I had just witnessed. At the time, R refrained from informing me as to not alarm or frighten me.

As I gazed at myself in the mirror, I realized why this was occurring. This experience was not about looking at the pretty visuals—instead, I felt as if I had been employed by an external force to look inwards instead of outwards. Although I felt that I had partially had this realization, this solidified my original hypothesis. I have also theorized (in retrospect), that perhaps my left eye closed and my third eye opened. I continued to stare at myself as I leaned closer into the mirror in hopes of studying the eye that remained open. Before I discuss this eye, I must first mention that I have witnessed my own dilated pupils before in their own definitive glory. However, as I looked into my eye I noticed something different; not only was my pupil the size of a small coin, but it seemed to contain an entire new dimension. I looked deep into my pupil and it seemed to go on forever. There were no objects to allow me to perceive the actual depth of what I was witnessing, but I had a feeling of infinite space.

This sensation of immeasurable space quickly translated itself into limitless potential. I realized that my sight (up until this point) had simply become a distraction to my life goals. I have often noticed that my physical and mental bodies have been deeply distracted by the more tangible realities of my surroundings. Instead of appreciating the spiritual importance of every object, I see what is in front of me, I study it for its physical properties, then attempt to move on. I then told myself that never again would I be so quick to judge anything I encountered—whether that is a human, an object, or otherworldly force. Instead, as I stood in front of the mirror, I made a vow to do my best to retract myself from my own distracting obsession with the more tangible.

While I came to grips with my new reality, I noticed that I had been in the bathroom for quite some time. I exited the bathroom, briefly looked at the clock (11:20PM) and found R patiently waiting for my return. I sat at the computer and lowered the music. It was at this point that I had another realization: it was acceptable for me to use drugs that didn’t necessarily grow from the ground. While I had no intention of abusing them, I became aware that these substances were just as significant to personal growth as some of the plants I had ingested. It was ridiculous for me to bar them from my body, let alone judge those who used these substances. While I still refrain from using purely feel-good drugs, I have come to the conclusion that LSD and similar substances can be used without the threat of entirely ruining my spiritual connection with the earth.

What happened next was much to my expectation: R and I sat and spoke for a continuous 5.5-6 hours until the intense effects of the LSD subsided. Within this time frame, subjects of varying subject matters were discussed. These included: our relationship with drugs (I had smoked ganja almost every day for a few months), our familial relationships, ego battles, and many other subjects that we felt were holding us back from fully appreciating and engaging in life. The issues that we discussed were not fully resolved, but they have allowed R and me to point our emotions and mental capacities in a new direction. For this, I am eternally grateful.

At some point R and I went outside—colors were extremely pronounced, but the rain and cold were holding me back from fully enjoying the experience. By 7:30AM the ‘trip’ was over. I fell asleep around 8AM and woke up at 12PM. I was certainly still feeling the afterglow and my brain felt somewhat out of place in my head. This feeling continued until 3PM that afternoon. While not an entirely pleasant feeling, it was not uncomfortable.

Throughout the day I was filled with feelings of intense love and joy. After returning home, I attended a family gathering at my family’s house. There was no place I would have rather been. Here, I found myself connecting to my family on an entirely new level. I was much more engaged in our conversations and I had a deeper concern for everyone’s well being. This afterglow lasted through most of the next day and continually subsided throughout the week. I will never be the same. Peace and love.

Exp Year: 2009	ExpID: 80128

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Jun 11, 2010	Views: 29,847

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LSD (2), MDMA (3) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Therapeutic Intent or Outcome (49), Mystical Experiences (9), Combinations (3), First Times (2)


		 DOSE:

		 3 hits
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   155 lb

It’s not easy to be a psychedelic. Put yourself in their shoes (shoes???) for a moment and reflect on your situation: On one side, you have adherents claiming that you are the forbidden fruit of the tree of knowledge, while your detractors argue that you merely imitate states of psychosis and that your so-called revelations are flimsy ideas that fade within a day or so. I recently had to listen to someone rehash the later opinion, and I was forced to bite my tongue before it lashed out like a mother bear barreling to the defense of her cubs. So I conserved my energy and decided to defend psychedelics through this more neutral avenue. There are two points in particular that I need to focus on:

1) Yes, you can have that one trip from which you never return (as long as you do things right afterwards).

2) The benefits of psychedelics are far-reaching, long-lasting, and potentially life and world changing.

It may seem that I am a little too fired up about this, so it'll probably help if I explain why that's the case. Without psychedelics (and MDMA and marijuana), I would still be a depressed, neurotic, scared little boy who's afraid of himself and the world. In all honesty, I would’ve been dead at my own hands. This subject could easily get me off topic (for instance, writing about how the drugs merely were catalysts for my own brain to bring on these changes) so let me try to stay within the lines that I’ve laid out for myself.

I will never forget my first trip that started everything....So close your eyes for a second and............no, bad idea, keep them open and keep reading........so just picture this: It's the fall of '04, and I'm at my first festival, seeing Phish's last show up in Coventry, VT. I had to get through hell just to arrive. Sitting in traffic for over 30 hours with the most brain-dead people on the planet tested my patience beyond its limits, and when they ended up trying to find a different way in (when every source insisted that there was only one route) I jumped out of the VW bus (cuz, Yeah man, like we're hippies and stuff cuz we smoke pot all the time and drive a VW) and prepared for whatever may lay in store.

I had also gone through emotional hell over a longer period of time. I was a dreamer and a seeker, like so many others on spaceship Earth, looking for answers to those never-ending questions that being alive poses to an inquiring mind: Who am I? What am I doing with my life? But the most vexing question of all, was always, Why? Why am I alive? Why is there something rather than nothing? Why this? Why that? Why? Why? Why? This line of questioning led to the biggest mind-ache of all, because all conventional avenues for its answers were unsatisfying to me. Asking, “Why?” doesn’t fall within the empirical range of science, and despite a lot of searching, conventional religion offered absolutely nothing satisfying, only simplistic and false crutches to lean upon.

Up to this point, I had experimented with marijuana and mushrooms, but they hadn’t provided that mystical insight that I was searching for. From the various sources that I had read, LSD seemed to be the substance that could potentially take me to where I wanted to go. I bought my first dose from a woman named Jane. I can’t remember any detail about her physically, except that her pupils were dilated like eclipsed moons. She was flying on the white on white blotter tabs that she was selling, and seeing her ecstatic look caused excitement to brew up within me. Once she found out that this was going to be my first experience with LSD, her energy intensified, and with a beatific smile, she dropped three hits under my yearning tongue. At the time, I couldn’t understand why she was so excited to dose me, but I can clearly see it now: she knew the doors it was going to open and she was making it happen. That’s quite a special feeing for a human to experience.

The first couple hours of the trip were interesting, but uneventful. Earlier that day, I had run into the people I abandoned earlier, and knowing that I needed a ride home, I quickly made my amends with offers of the drugs that I had procured. So I met back up with them and went to an ATM to get $500, with which I could buy an entire sheet from Jane. The diesel-powered lights were otherworldly, and as I looked away from them, a massive mandala appeared before my eyes. ‘Holy shit, it’s working!’ We hitched a ride on the back of a pickup truck, and it was such an adventure.

Time was losing all meaning. I tried to express this, but no one understood what I was saying, and this disconnection made me keep my mouth shut for a bit. Once we got back to our campsite, one of them walked with me to the general direction where I found Jane earlier. I quickly realized that in my altered state of mind, I would never find her. But I was hearing something that I never heard before and I ran to the source of it, assuring my companion that I would be fine alone. It was not just music that I was hearing; it was pure mystical truth being channeled through trancey beats, swirling guitar solos and bouncing bass lines.

Before this night, I had always been unable to dance, due to unfounded worries about how stupid I might look to others watching. But without the slightest hesitation, I found my body moving to the sounds of Umelt. It felt like I was under a spell from a source beyond and much greater than myself (which it undoubtably was). I let go of my petty ego and all its fears. Once that happened, insights flashed through my mind at a kaleidoscopic pace. Each crash of the cymbal brought new revelations. Contradictions resolved themselves into formless unity. I wanted to grab the mic and shout, “This is the moment poets write about! This is why we’re alive!” But fortunately I had some sense of social normalcy, and that potentially awkward situation was avoided.

A couple of endless hours later, the show ended and I made my way back to my tent. Avoiding a wandering spunion who offered two rolls if I let him sleep in my tent (he was too fucked up to find his), I washed up at a public faucet. Purple hues on the wood panel in front of me came alive, and I was dancing to music inside my head. I laughed at myself and laid down inside my tent. The visuals were all very sexual. Everything was connected to each other, and there was so much sucking and sharing of energy. Fighting off the paranoid thoughts of people trying to come into my tent, I somehow fell into a deep sleep.

I woke up early, and excitedly ran over to my companions to try to tell them about my night. I tried to relate what happened, but they didn’t understand. Saying that “I’ll never be the same!” only elicited a response of, “That’s bomb, man.” I started talking to a neighbor who was sitting inside his car and he knew exactly what I was trying to convey. On LSD, “You can understand life”, he said to me. I practically jumped for joy! ‘This happens to other people too! So it’s got to be real!’ But, a wandering drug dealer offering multiple chemicals shifted my attention, and that’s where I can probably end my account of that night.

No, things did not change instantly. I went back home and life returned to normal. Soon enough, I was still the same unhappy person that I had always been. But it is not possible to revolutionize yourself after one trip. At the very least, it opened up the path for me, revealing that, yes, there are answers out there. But they’re not to be found in any established philosophy or religion, for it’s inside of all of us, and we just need to find the right way to bring it out. Without that trip, my hopeless outlook on life would’ve never ceased. I would’ve soon gave up on finding any answers, and at the heartbreak of the pointlessness of existence, I would have killed myself. That trip allowed me to open up to the mystery and wonder of the universe. Questions such as Why? lost their importance. I saw that there is no reason for anything. No divine plan behind our lives - they just ARE, and that’s the whole beauty of it.

Nothing has ever been the same since that trip. The way I experience Life on a daily basis was forever altered. My appreciation and the pure joy I experience from being alive can not be put into words. But let me quickly try: the way that I can look at a two-inch crystal and see a mountain chain, or my desire to transform myself and the world, or the way a certain woman can bring tears of joy to my eyes at the very thought of her, all of these and countless others are directly due to the influence of psychedelics.

To all the dreamers out there, let me say this: Close that book. Then, open your mind because all the answers you seek are already within you. You just have to be silent enough to hear it. Because only then will you be able to devour the voice of God.

Exp Year: 2004	ExpID: 76922

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Jun 23, 2010	Views: 13,635

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LSD (2) : Therapeutic Intent or Outcome (49), Mystical Experiences (9), Festival / Lg. Crowd (24)


		 DOSE:

		 1
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (cookie / food)

		   repeated
		 smoked
		 Cannabis
		 (plant material)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   180 lb

First, a little background. I am not your typical psychonaut, well, at least not stereotypical. I am a high technology major in University; I’d like to consider myself relatively well adjusted, and relatively safe in most of my endeavors. Prior to this experience, I had done no other drug other than ganja, I found the concept of psychoactive substances frightening, and didn't consider myself ready for the experience.

This past summer, a good friend who I had lived with in a Dorm that year contacted me about going to a rave, a music festival really. On a sparsely populated island legendary in the area for the open-minded populace, and frequent drug use. I agreed to go, as did three of my other good friends.

We went to this festival, a three day affair, the previous week I had been preparing myself for it, reading all I possibly could about LSD. Bolstered by my newfound knowledge, I arrived to the event, and set up camp. Being as that this was a three day affair, we agreed that we should plan our trip. That night we partied, enjoyed the good music, didn’t really sleep, but had a good time. The next morning, we all awoke and started to make preparations, we agreed to eat these little sugar cubes a friend had acquired, liquid locally produced, pack a bag with supplies, and then set off down the beach. We ate the sugar cubes, all joked nervously, packed a bag with water, pot, and a camera and set out. There were four of us, only one had tripped before, we really had no idea what we were in for.

About 45 minutes later, the rocks started to sparkle. We where walking down the beach, enjoying the beautiful weather, when we started to point out the beauty of the stones, their place, their job, their perfection. At this point, we knew it was starting to kick in.

Tripping steadily, we ducked into the forest, a likely sheltered wooded path providing the perfect venue in which to experience our newfound expanded perception. I felt truly alive, I had embarked on this trip to try to find something I didn’t know I was missing, it quickly became evident that my truth was lying just beyond the horizon.

The forest was beautiful, more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen before in my life. Plants were not just plants... they where an extension of the planet’s beauty. Bees buzzed with a purpose, not simply diving and weaving aimlessly, but traveling with duty. Realizing most of the plants around us actually stinging nettle (think poison ivy… but Canadian) we returned to the beach, rounding the corner to possibly the most confusing situation we could have.

There stood, on the beach, a cabin. Keep in mind, this is NOT a city. This is a beach that requires 20 minutes of off-road travel to simply reach, electricity ending 30 or 40 kilometers back up the island. And here lies a cabin. Approaching the building warily, I felt like we weren’t ready for it. Like it was not our place, it was not the right time for this building, however, we entered cautiously. The cabin was furnished, not only with the standard couches, but a television, vcr, and stack of movies, quickly becoming apparent that a generator was required for full operation. Relics of past trips lie all around us. Here a picture, there a stack of beer cans, carved in the wood of the walls lie the reminders of previous adventures. Walking over to a side table, I picked up a curious scrap of paper, yellowed with time, it read:

Would you rather step in quicksand?

Or spend your entire life

Avoiding it

This rang deep. Deeper than three lines should, looking at each other in wonder, we decided that we needed to keep moving. The empty place seemed too large for us, seemed too hard to comprehend. Hoisting our bag of tricks high, we left, staring back at the tiny house, wondering what other secrets it held.

By this time, in the hot sun, we had finished two bottles of water, having no pockets due to shorts; I tied the empty containers to the corners of a bright green bandanna, letting it hang from a belt loop. Suddenly I felt the need to complete it, picking up a stone; I tied a third corner off, a bright red lighter completing the fourth. Holding my creation aloft I placed it upon my friend’s head, and there he stood dubbed: Captain Acid Hat.

Onward Captain Acid Hat and his band ventured, walking down the pristine beach, leaping from rock to rock, enjoying the experience of having our senses unleashed.

Here we diverge from pure narrative and into theory. When experiencing such emotions, I pondered, what could possibly cause such a shift in reality? Was Captain Acid Hat’s amazing adventure simply fantasy? Were we all experiencing random synapses firing that caused the plants to seem so alive, the bees to seem so committed, and the water to sparkle like the light of a thousand suns? Or was it something else, deeper.

Spiritual? Unlikely. I am a man of technology, I entertain few delusions of theology, in fact, one of my greatest fears was the possibility of experiencing a spiritual vision, what if I’m wrong? What if I’m faced with the reality of a Christian theology? How would I deal with my entire worldview being shattered? No, this was more. Spirituality was minor in the world I experienced, where there a god he would be humbled by the beauty present in everyday things.

My theory is this: To assume and assert that our five senses represent the culmination of the universes experience is not only arrogant, but dead wrong. It has frequently been suggested by far smarter men than I that we exist in a tiny bubble of reality, our brains are wired through evolution to handle only so much input, so much feeling. But we take it all in, our eyes see everything, our eyes see radio waves, our eyes see other crossing dimensions, our eyes take in everything that exists, but our brain filters it out.

LSD is not a harsh chemical, it is not a brutal taskmaster, forcing me into an altered state of consciousness, it’s a switch, flicking it opened my mind, and I believe, reduces the filters placed between me and reality. For the first time, when I looked at those sparking rocks, I saw them for what they were, without the muddling filters of my brain blocking it.

But back to the story.

Rounding another bend, we spied the end of our journey. The beach ended, curved up into a rocky bluff, impossible to climb in our state, but affording an amazing vantage point, shaded as it was by the thick tree cover on the hill. We made camp, opened our bag of tricks, and started to talk. About everything, about life, about our experience, we related it quite strongly to simply being stoned out of our gourds, the lot of us surprised at how gentle it was. Our minds were not addled nor chained, we could think, we could talk, hell, I’m sure that given the right motivation we could dance, had we not other, more important things on our minds.

Packing a bowl took an hour and a half, but we didn’t notice, the slow process of grinding passed between us all, rotating seemingly in an organized pattern. Three members of the group would engage in deep discussion while the fourth would be off on their own, watching the water, or the trees, or the rocks, or the weed, never really becoming detached, simply orbiting, it reminded me a lot of a solar system.

We discussed the note from the cabin, it’s significance, possible theories for it’s meaning and the place it was found in. We evolved, we became stronger, and on that beach, sitting in the shade, staring and trying to comprehend a tugboat moving across the strait, I found what I was looking for, the missing piece to my life. To a stranger it is unexplainable, but rest assured, I needed to find it.

The sun rose in the sky, becoming mighty at its zenith, and started to descend as the afternoon wore on. Our shade retreated, becoming brighter and brighter, until our cool perch became hot. We decided it was time to head back to the camp. Walking back to the cabin, I noticed the only downside to the entire weekend, in my eagerness to set out, I had forgotten to apply sunscreen to my left arm, the skin was bright red and obviously sunburned. I took captain acid hat back, drenched it in seawater, and placed it over my arm, tying it tight and keeping the sun off it.

We once again reached the cabin. But now it was different, it wasn’t hostile, it was inviting. It had judged us, and finding us worthy, became a happy place to be. It became our cabin, our place of refuge from the sun, we explored it, laughed at it’s jokes, it’s quirks, doubling up in hilarity as we discovered the foil packets arranged on the table contained dried magic mushrooms, we left them, had no need of them.

We packed a bowl, and then I stood, looking over to the tv that couldn’t possibly turn on, spying a drawing on top of it. It was beautiful, simply patterns in crayon, and on the back. Tripping in the cabin, lots of love, john and Marcy, new years 2006. I realized we needed to leave our mark, looking back at my friends, laughing on the old dusty couch, it came to me:

You will never know what you’re seeking

Until you find it.

-July 2008

Placing the note down, we smoked a bowl and decided to set back, braving the unforgiving sun once again to arrive home, the music of the stage reached us first, bounced over the water, and we started to see tents again, people. Interacting with humans again was peculiar, I felt enlightened, strengthened.

We discovered (much to our delight) that the beach we tred upon was actually a nude beach, and the tanned flesh of dozens of beauties lounged about, smiling to ourselves we made our way back to our campsite, to bottles of water, and the end to a wonderful experience.

LSD Changed my life. It wasn’t huge, I didn’t drop my major and live in the forest, nor did I freak out and swear it off forever, I simply realized how I’d been going about things wrong. I am a changed man due to this wonderful chemical, and a stronger human being from that beach.

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 74690

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Jul 15, 2010	Views: 24,672

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LSD (2) : First Times (2), Glowing Experiences (4), Small Group (2-9) (17)


		 DOSE:

		   repeated

		 LSD

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   130 lb

[Erowid Note:
Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]

I have lived in the bay area my entire life.  However, I did not understand how lucky I was for many years to live in such an amazing region until I went on a mandatory family reunion with my parents to the city of Bumfuck, Texas.  One single grocery store.  One single cinema.  No grassy parks with waterfalls and miniature forests in sight.  An incredibly diverse selection of restaraunts, ranging from a 'Couldn't Pass a Safety Inspection' Chinese Buffet to a rundown Wendy's.  Jesus Christ, how could anybody stand to live in anywhere but the hometown of yours truly?  The towering skyscrapers, the supercharged bustle and humdrum of the city at all hours of the day, the car alarms and street music and honking horns and snippets of conversation that penetrate every silent orifice of San Francisco.  I love everything about it.

I was very much destined to be a bike messenger upon my graduation from high school.  I was smart enough to go to college but not motivated enough to continue to endure the tedious nausea of schoolwork, too much of an adrenaline junkie to work in an office job but too tied down to big cities to become a mountain climber or a parachutist, and too self conscious about being overweight to be a couch potato but too lazy to become a marathon runner.  I lived and breathed cycling throughout my high school career, among other activities such as fruitlessly searching clubs for men desperate enough to fuck me and speed-smoking the elevators of multi-million dollar buildings.  The game involves walking into an expensive hotel or office building with just enough of an air of confidence so that the security doesn't bother me, then busting my piece and herb out in the nearest elevator and hotboxing it as much as I can before some prick on a security camera finds me and attempts to arrest me.  At this point, the game digresses to a combination of 'Tag' and 'Hide and Go Seek'.

So, after graduating from the hell hole that was my high school, I spent the following summer as a dishboy and sandwich maker in a sub shop in downtown San Francisco, until the day that my friend managed to score a job as a bike messenger.  They still needed somebody else to fill an empty position.  The pay was shit, but so was my sub shop job, so I got myself intentionally fired after spraying my prick of a manager with the dish washing hose and signed on as a bike messenger at a place that I don't care to name.  For those of you hicks that live in small towns that dot the barren wasteland known to the rest of us as 'The Middle Third of the United States' and have no idea how big cities work, I'll teach you how bike messengers keep their jobs.

In big cities, cars are fucking everywhere.  It's a wonder people still buy them, because they move at approximately the same speed as tortoises with arthritis, are goddamn expensive, and you use up more of your gas tank waiting at stop lights then you do actually driving.  And because some people in big cities need packages transported from Point A to Point B in a very short amount of time (faster than the tortoises with arthritis can carry them) these people pay us an exorbitant amount of money to us, bike messengers, to bust our asses to transport said packages from Point A to Point B in a very short amount of time.  Then, the company that hires us takes a small finder's fee (approximately 90% of our wages) and gives us our pittance sum of cash that we get for risking our lives on a daily basis.

For those of you that have never biked in a big city, the only way I can describe it to you is a combination of FUCKING INCREDIBLE and GODDAMN FUCKING SCARY, with a hint of BALLS TO THE WALL AWESOME.  Cars and pedestrians alike in San Fransisco hate us cyclists, and for good reason.  Given the option to actually wait for stop lights to turn green, or for pedestrians to move their fat fucking asses out of the way, most of us just wave our dicks in the wind and masturbate all over conventional traffic laws.  If any of you reading this are the towelhead taxi drivers who regularly leave your car horns honking for upwards of ten seconds when I cut you off, or the morbidly obese whales that scream insulting obsceneties at me when I bike past because I scared you so much you almost choked on your 'McWarning: May contain meat' hamburgers, guess what?  Up yours too buddy, I'm trying to make a living doing my job, and if it involves me cutting you off and generally fucking you over, better your ass then mine.

Combine this sort of attitude with a religious devotion to psychedelic drugs, which I've maintained since the summer in between my junior and senior years of high school, and you get my life.  My DOC is easily acid, because of it's duration, trippiness, cost effectiveness, and the fact that I've got an amazing connect who never runs out and sells me 100 dose vials for $200.  I can dose three to five times a week and still make enough money to pay enough of the rent that my roommates don't give a shit.  My drug history involves LSD, DMT, psilocybin mushrooms, too many 2C-x's to count (not to mention a few DOx's and #-xxx-DMT's), mescaline, salvia, MDMA, and a few odd stimulants thrown in there for fun.  I have tried Adderal and cocaine before, both are terrible drugs and should be erased from the face of the Earth.  Fuck stimulants!

Now, it's clear to most people that doing a job like mine while being righteously skull-fucked on a ten strip of acid is a goddamn terrible idea.  Yes, you are absolutely right.  Without a doubt, I would NEVER recommend to anybody doing what I do on a daily basis.  It hasn't ever stopped me, but it's still a goddamn terrible idea.  Like the good doctor said, 'I wouldn't recommend... drugs or insanity for everyone, but they've always worked for me.'

To describe the experience of putting my life in the hands of the San Fransisco Traffic God's while the sky melds together in an amalgous orgasm of blue and magenta and while cars leave such profoundly solid tracers behind them that I can't tell whether they're limousines or not is, essentially, impossible.  The experience is just fucking ludicrous.  I've been bombing hills at 35 miles an hour before only to have taxi cars open their doors in front of me with only ten feet to brake.  I've been within inches of been piledrived by several ton cars in direct oncoming traffic.  On one occasion, the quick release on my primary brakes snapped while I hauled ass down one of the steepest streets in the city (which is really saying something, if you've ever been to San Fransisco before), forcing me to simultaneously wedge my foot between my front wheel and my front forks to slow myself down while navigating my bike through two massive four way intersections.  I was a half second away from getting anally raped between a bright silver Hummer and a half lime-green/half hot-pink sedan.  I suspect that this was not the actual colour of the vehicle.

To do what I do, I have to be paying attention 100% of the time.  My peripheral vision and reflexes are my best friends.  Acid is not a drug that lends itself to fast reflexes, however; it feels like I have ADHD on higher doses of psychedelics.  'Oh boy, look at that beautiful tree!  Gee, don't you just love nature?  Holy fuck, the sky!  Goddamn, that cloud just turned into two ninjas fighting each other!  I love you sky, you're so blue and beautiful.'  On my early days of trip-cycling, I would occasionally find myself zoning out for short periods of time, too interested in the patterns on the asphalt below me or the height of the skyscrapers above me to remember that I was in a life or death situation.  These sorts of distractions usually ended like this: 'Jesus, look at the floral designs on the pavement, doesn't that just look HOOOOOONK SQUEEEEEEAL FUCK FUCK SHIT FUCK A CAR!!'  I haven't had one of those moments in over two years.  To be honest, it only happened once or twice.  But one or two times of trusting some fuck you've never met before to be paying attention to the road and not his Blackberry or the radio is one or two times two many.

I've since gotten used to getting my shit together on acid.  To be honest, though, it's pretty effectively kept me from ever being able to relax on psychedelics, even if I'm not on my bike.  When trip-cycling, I have to devote every ounce of my mental capacity to keep my mind on the road and my reflexes.  It's a combination of letting my mind trust myself so completely that I don't have to think about hitting that brake fast enough to avoid that taxi door or turning my wheel just enough that I neither plow into that pedestrian OR get clotheslined by that pole, and forcing my mind to be on the edge constantly.

I instantly go into this survival mode when taking psychedelics now, and I can't seem to rewire my brain to just let myself go and relax, even if I'm just sitting on my couch at home tripping.  Cause when I'm trip-cycling, I can't mess up or I die.  No slipups, no fuckups, no mistakes.  I get one chance to make that turn perfectly, and I'm dead if I don't.  Making decisions like these for six or eight hours straight on a daily basis leaves me so fucking burned out that it's a wonder I manage to wake up in the morning.  I put everything I've got, every last fucking percent into every single moment for more than half my waking day, and I'm supposed to just wake up in the morning and do it all over again for months on end?  It baffles me that I do it, but I do, and my body has been forced to adjust.

I've never gotten seriously injured biking before, which is a goddamn miracle.  I've crashed a few times before, and I'd hazard a guess that the number of times in was my fault and the number of times it was somebody else's is about equal.  No broken bones, no fractured spines, no cracked skulls, nothing.  A goddamn miracle.  If you ask me, some scrapes and bruises and a snapped spoke or two isn't much to pay for a life like mine.  Someday, my miracle is gonna run out though.

I figure that I've got two choices in life right now: I fuck up and die with my head in two and my brains splattered across the street (or at least get so injured that I scare myself away from ever cycling again, which is definitively possible considering how mentally scarring getting in a serious life-threatening accident on acid could be) or I somehow manage to survive being a trip-cycling messenger for long enough that I get older and wiser and figure out that what I'm doing is fucking stupid and I retire.  Then, I have to live with the ramifications of dosing large amounts of psychedelics up to five times a week for multiples years on end.  I'll be just like one of those burned out hippies on Haight and Ashbury that can't finish a sentence, mumbling to themselves about UFO's and how cheap weed used to be.  Oh well; fuck it.  It's fun while it lasts, and in a life like mine, some people live and others eat shit and die.

Exp Year: 2010	ExpID: 84954

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: 24

Published: Jul 31, 2010	Views: 81,293

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LSD (2) : Not Applicable (38), Addiction &amp; Habituation (10), Retrospective / Summary (11)


		 DOSE:

		 3 hits

		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   125 lb

“The best results come when you fuck someone you really love, during the acid trip. That’s when the nervous system is most open, most unconditioned, and ready to take a completely new imprint.”

-	Timothy Leary

Background: I am a male, at the time of this experience I was 24 years old and weighed 125 pounds. I take no medications but use marijuana and yerba mate on a daily basis. My partner is female, at the time of this experience she was 19 years old and weighed 135 pounds. She takes no medications but uses yerba mate on a daily basis. Both of us are experienced with a variety of psychedelic drugs. This was one of our first and most fondly remembered acid trips together.

The experience: The trip was off to a rocky start. Halloween, and some drunk-and-rowdy types came over to visit just minutes after the four of us had put three blotters each of Sacramental LSD under our tongues. My partner got sucked downstairs, into a whirlwind of thrashing guitars and bongos played, without much rhythm. My roommate Star and I winced at the percussion, saying “I think I’m staying up here, man!” Star and a friend who wasn’t on acid were deep into discussion about art. The acid was beginning to kick in, gently, slowly. Sitting on the deck, I admired the wispy clouds blowing over the night sky, and watched the other two smoke. It’s funny, thinking about how much time I’ve spent hanging out with smokers waiting for them to get their fix. I like not smoking. If I get cold before the ciggie is finished, then I can go inside!

I donned my white labcoat, and ventured downstairs. There was something comforting and familiar about the garment. Stained yellow and brown pockets, but otherwise crisp and white. Just wearing it provokes me to think within a scientific framework. Suddenly, I’m not just getting a snack from the kitchen. Now I am performing a perceptual test, in cutting an apple whilst ignoring the low-vibration drunks. I wander around the house, feeding slices of apple to people. “Control group: People not on LSD! How would you describe this apple?” My control group told me is was sour, and crisp. Those subjects on LSD were in agreement, though perhaps perceiving the taste of the apple more vividly. Our senses had been heightened by the drug.

Star’s room is high-energy. Brightly lit and warm, dominated by earthy red tones, playing rock music at high volume, filled with intense crystals and involving conversation. I found myself jittery and anxious, not being in my comfort space. Retreat! Retreat to my own room which is the antithesis of Star’s. Calm, cool and dimly lit with a salt lamp (AKA psychedelic-safe light). I flopped on the bed with the requisite fuzzy blue blanket. Ahh, that’s better! My partner came up and joined me.

With LSD I find it is easy to be distracted by worldly things and stay on the surface of the experience. If I had chosen, like Star, to involve myself in conversation and other normal activities too much, it would be easy to ignore the effects of the drug. I have programmed myself so well that, for instance, I can go down to breakfast whilst coming up on eight hits of acid, and no one will even notice! The “breakfast” program still runs smoothly, no matter how high I am. In such a case, the trip becomes about having attention placed on our conditions reflexes and responses. High on acid, and watching the program run. As long as I am clear with my intent, everyday words and actions can be carried out as usual. Though it can be hard to maintain, and not burst into giggles at the hilarity of the situation.

Instead of getting involved in wordly things like Star, I was sitting with chill ambient music, in dim lighting, paying attention to what I was experiencing. Sitting close with my partner and feeling the psychedelic shift. The experience changed; I was no longer the water-strider rippling the pond’s surface. No, a big trout came up from the depths and snatched me. I was pulled down, immersed now fully in the experience. To me, this is a difference between mushrooms and LSD. An eigth of mushrooms will always immerse me fully into the experience. With LSD, I have to choose to engage, and give the drug something to work with. That’s when it becomes deep. My partner and I sat facing with legs around each other, forehead to forehead. Third eye lined up with third eye. Consciously choosing to open, and let the energy flow. I chose to open my mind fully and unconditionally to hers. There are no barriers between us. We started to cycle energy, pulling it up through the core and flowing back-and-forth from eye to eye. Up and out through the crown, then back down to be recycled, grounded and pulled up once again. A vortex spiralling up through us, a bio-electromagnetic energy field surrounding us and pushing at the edges of the room.

The door was open, and whenever someone would walk by or speak from outside I would feel and see in my mind’s eye a protective network of energy sparkling in front of the door. It is all about vibrations, the vibrations we choose to pay attention to. Vibrations from outside were nothing more than distractions, to be dampened and then ignored. It was our own shared vibration that was being amplified. I pondered what it would be like, to sit this way for six or eight hours in a chaotic environment, focussing one’s attention on nothing but the other person. Not letting your attention flicker from that connection to the other, not even for a second. Now that would be a profound exercise in trust, dedication and love.

There came a point of openness where I could touch her essence directly with mine. Her mind, her soul, her spiritual light body... Her essence was earthy, dark and animalistic. Moving with a fluid motion, like a young colt or water acting within earth. Like a school of fish, capable of evaporating and fleeing with speed, should she be startled. Her essence was simultaneously shy and warmly welcoming, half drawing away then opening back up again invitingly. She was touching my own essence, gently, gently. It was beautiful. I realized that this is the level on which I interact with various DMT entities. When seeing the essence of an entity, nothing can be hidden. The energetics of that person, warm and welcoming or tricky and malevolent, is immediately obvious. I’d never before touched another human’s essence, this was new territory.

“You are beautiful, on all levels, and no matter which way I take you apart!” I say.

“Yes, and you are beautiful too!” She replied.

“Even on a cellular level, each cell has a DNA blueprint to make you, and it is perfect, and it is beautiful...” Touching her essence made me think about what it is like when other beings touch my essence. I, too, was one of these tricky human things. You never know what you are going to get, with a human essence. So animalistic, tricky and shifty like animals can be. Trained to have instinctive and sometimes dangerous reactions. Some of us are so open and loving, others are quite the opposite. Be cautious, when interacting with humans on the energetic plane!

Different sensations about my partner flooded me. I felt a strong water aspect. Deep blue waves of the ocean, lapping against grey rocky islands covered in green trees. A heron, standing in the shallows to fish. The heron (earth) acting within the waves (water). The way she moves her body, precisely and delicately, is like a heron. Turn the heron inside out and you get the colt, the essence, the spiritual energy body. Flowing water, acting within earth. As below, so above. Water and earth, earth and water, working together. Grounded but surrendering to the flow of life.

The two of us exploded outwards. No longer confined to our bodies, now the body was just a central point, one where we localized or focused our consciousness. Our edges ran far out, the lotus petals blooming and unfolding far beyond the edges of the house. We had become expansive. Now we lay, with me on top of her, so that all our chakra centres were in alignment. Our total mind-body organisms were synching up, on all levels. I felt myself opening up to every aspect of our relation to each other. To the totality of what we experience together and teach each other. In my mind’s eye I saw a channel from head-to-toe through my body, being filled with green glowing light as we continued the energetic exchange.

“Would you like to make love?” I ask her.

“I would love to make love!” Came the enthusiastic reply. We shut the door, shed our clothes. Align our bodies and chakras again. A little foreplay, feeling the energy flow very distinctly. Feeling her response vividly, with each touch of my fingers. We are as one. One plus one, makes one... but with the power of three. Magic. She is tight as I push, penetrating... a little cry escapes us both.

We made love differently than ever before. Neither feels towards the normal back-and-forth of penis in vagina. No. My lingam pushes deeper, seeking inwards. Feeling clearly each shift of her yoni’s smooth muscle tissue. In this state of heightened awareness, my partner feels vividly all the muscles in her body. She moves her legs in rhythmic stretching patterns, causing cycles and patterns of pressure applied to my penis. The energy between us continues to build, and build. I guess this is what tantra is about. Sacred love. Experiencing the divine by raising the vibration between us.

Fondly beseeching, my

Mouth murmured worship

Breath, heavy. Skin, fire.

Please,

Spread her labia open.

Half perilous penis deeply

Closetted herein pink vagina.

Let me come in your naked ecstasy!

Eventually our tantric acrobatics stimulated me to orgasm. So intertwined within her that she feels every pulse just as clearly as I do. Release, release, release! In the quiet moments after I open my eyes. Everything is covered in buzzing fractal patternings now, whereas before my visuals had been very light. No wonder, though! That kind of sexual release had blown me wide open. I was very, very aware of the energy flow and expression in everything. Now lying cuddled up, there was a curious feeling in my mind. My mind was like a blank slate, I had turned off the usual internal chatter. My mind was silent and empty of thoughts, open to whatever would impinge on it. My attention seemed to focus on a distant point past everything I could see. I didn’t look at things, as much as I looked through them. Focussing past the material surface, to the essence. I began to get a few thoughts, information that seemed to come from nowhere in particular, but which felt extremely vivid and real to me. Archetypical information which held a feeling of trueness. Thinking a lot about jaguars. I saw the soft footfalls of the cat stalking through the jungle, and heard the moist, breathy growl of its voice. I saw the pyramid at Teotihuacan, vividly as though I had lived during ancient times.

I remember as a child vacationing with my parents. While visiting Teotihuacan, we were walking up some stairs inside one of the buildings, and I knew before I got there that I would see a golden jaguar statue at the top. I was having a serious déjà vu, though too young to know what it was. When we got to the top everything was as I remembered, except that the jaguar’s eyes did not glow a fiery-red as in my vision. The jaguar again. The jaguar was here at Teotihuacan. I embodied the jaguar. Holding my partner close, I felt my arms covered with spotted yellow and black fur. I became the jaguar. The jaguar was the totem animal of shamans. It was a role I could choose to take on. The jaguar. Woah. Woah. My monkey mind screamed in confusion, afraid of the implications.

My partner feels the fear go through me, my body becoming rigid. There is a scared look in my eye. I try my best to explain what I am experiencing and downloading. Having indulged in fear, I am now shut out of the experience. There are no more cosmic downloads or past life regressions after this point in the trip. When my mind recoiled from what I was seeing, in shock and horror, meant that I had seen all I was ready to accept tonight. All I can do is accept these kind of experiences at face value. I don’t have to believe that what I saw was “true” or “real”, but I have to at least accept that I had the experience. I’ve tried denying experiences before, and it was very distressful. The monkey mind does not like having the rug pulled from under its feet.

The rest of the trip was smooth and comfortable. We lay together, talking openly and enjoying as the acid began to come down. It was a very contented and clear-headed state, in contrast to our last experience which was a combination of LSD (at a lower dose) and MDMA. Taking the LSD on its own was a much less frenzied and chaotic experience. More focussed, more aware. Less sensual surface, more deep energetic connection. We smoked a little joint to soften the edges. We exchanged massages and made love a couple more times, as couples are wont to do. Using the same techniques as last time, deep tantric muscle movements rather than the old innie-outie.

Around five in the morning... fully satisfied but still tripping and unable to sleep. We arose and reconnected with our roommates. The drunk-and-rowdy types were gone. I had my intention set on making everybody a nice strong cup of yerba mate, and some oatmeal with superfoods (gogi berries, blueberries, raw almonds, raw mulberries, maca flour, raw cacao nibs) and a little cane sugar to taste. It is a meal that is quite easy to digest and bland, but not too bland. Nothing that would offend the psychedelic and up-all-night mentality. Food with a high amount of nutrients, vitamins and minerals, antioxidants and so on.

Despite the yerba mate, cacao and whatnot, I was very sleepy after breakfast. I went to bed and my partner joined me soon after. I had very vivid and interesting dreams that night. I can’t remember the details, but in the dream world I ate another three hits of acid. Actually one blotter fell into my mouth, accidentally somehow, and then we consciously chose to eat the second two. In my dream-land, those tabs of LSD seemed to get me high, too!

Tim Leary cautioned that one should choose a partner carefully if one is going to make love with them while high on LSD. You can’t just go out to the bar, pick someone up, and expect to have a good experience taking LSD and making love with them. The nervous system under LSD is opened up so much, it is important to me to feel a real loving connection there. What can be experienced then is the essence of tantra, feeling the energy flow back and forth between each other, and amplifying that sensation.

My partner wrote a poem based on her experiences of the night, which she wishes to share:

'As I sit silent, away from you, you come into my mind. Caressing me gently with your limitless body. Stroking my heart with soft sand, holding my hand. Unwinding my mind, intertwining to the divine, into the forest we slip, deep, dark, unknown guided by light, you gently lead me to the unfolding lotus. Kissing me with blue petals of love.

I open my eyes as your mouth passionately bites my neck, taking me up the tree of life, tall and strong. I grip to stay hold but loose all tension making the dark forest fractal with light. Fairies and elves begin to play games, passing me around as if I were a dancing pixie. Filling the sky with magical loving hearts, exploding rainbows full of life. Passion bites again gripping me higher and higher up the tree of life, as I see above and beyond everything.

I fall limitlessly into bliss, soft luscious lips kiss as I bite to see if it’s all real. Something solid comes into my mind, an eye. Complex and divine, which line should I follow down into your mind, it glides like ice into a crystal cave, reflecting only light, sparkles, beauty of the night, expressed through a once solid object. But soon all boundaries had disappeared, I float through the crystal cave, unlocking the flame, healing the pain.

I jump to see what I fall into next… a misty morning where I lie on the beach moon still in reach, nothing needing to be preached. A beautiful creature, black as night, a panther, it seems to be. I breathe as it attacks me slowly and gently showing me the ocean, deep, deep, deep. I relax, it pulses and sends me wisdom in and throughout, like a quartz crystal, grounded, aware, so sure of its power. But as a panther only jumping the prey ready to take on its heat.

Like a fire I burn, sparks flying everywhere, my hand moves to touch something soft, a body naked nothing to restrict its beauty. As I breathe, and breathe again feeling myself coming back to my body, my eyes open to a limitless beauty. I see you, as I sit silent, wide open heart, ready to bleed and let everyone see the panther that came inside me and left me open to breathe, to flow.

Gently, softly as you touched my soul.'

Thanks for reading

Love

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 80897

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: 24

Published: Sep 23, 2010	Views: 24,186

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LSD (2) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Sex Discussion (14), General (1)


		 DOSE:

		 oral
		 LSD
		 (tea)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   135 lb

I’ve taken LSD dozens of times, and have almost always had extremely positive, insightful experiences with it.  However, last spring I made the mistake of taking way too much acid while home alone.  The experience still haunts me, and thus it’s the one I’m compelled to write about.  I’d rather bury it forever, but I know I’ll never forget; it still preoccupies me daily.

My husband Dan and I had recently moved to a new house in the mountains.  It was Dan who introduced me to psychedelics many years ago, and we had a good supply on hand, but lately Dan had soured on the idea of tripping, suspecting that the stress of his new job would feed into a bad mindset.  Meanwhile, I had been building up the idea of a solo trip as a way to treat myself to a glorious experience of our new home.  Dan didn’t like the idea of me tripping without him and had framed it as an issue of trust, so I simply intended to hide it from him.  That was my first big mistake.

Dan left for work at 8:30 a.m., and shortly thereafter I brewed a lysergic tea by squeezing out the remains of an old bottle into warm water.  Our dealer Benjamin had given me one of his nearly-spent bottles, and I thought I had already squeezed it dry.  I anticipated, at most, one or two doses’ worth of acid to be left when I submersed the bottle into my tea.  That was my second big mistake.

I drank the tea, and within mere minutes my heart began surging, my body jittering, and visual phenomena deepening and throbbing.  These were much swifter, stronger effects than I’d ever experienced, so I knew with sudden dread that I was in for a long, wild ride.

Fear made a catastrophic jumping-off point for the trip.  At first I tried to busy myself cleaning up the house, to keep active, but panic swamped me, along with deep feelings of guilt.  I staged a mental dialogue with Dan, attempting to explain my whimsical dosage: “I want experiences all to myself sometimes!  I don’t like feeling controlled!”  But my own words sounded like hollow lies, because I could see that Dan was right about LSD not being something to trifle with whimsically, or seize greedily, or lie about.  I began to sob, seeing myself as a snake, a liar, a self-deluded creature of the darkness.

“You can’t hide from the eyes of God,” I began weeping, collapsing onto the floor.  I’m not at all religious, yet for a while I kept wailing that: “You can’t hide from the eyes of God.”

Then my mind started to slip into incomprehension, with syllables cycling senselessly in my ears: “Abwor-shuh-throl Rech-uh-sli Boppoli, Abwor-shuh-throl Rech-uh-sli Boppoli.”  I thought I should call Benjamin, my dealer back in Oregon, just wanting to hear one voice of sanity.  I called his cell, and when he asked “how are you,” I answered, “Actually, I’m scared.  I’m calling you because you seem like the kind of guy who knows what’s going on.  I took too much of the stuff you gave me, and I feel like I’m losing my mind...”

He was very kind, and said all the right things to calm me down for a few minutes.  I felt better, until it occurred to me that cell phone conversations are easily tapped, and for all I knew he could be under surveillance.  I may have just wrecked our lives!  But I didn’t know how to speak this fear safely on the phone, so I just started saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” before hanging up.

Then things began getting stranger.  I stripped naked, and heard a voice say, “Psychedelic drugs are all part of the universal ecosystem’s experiment in consciousness.”  I thought, I knew it, and felt momentary comfort.

But the voices were only beginning.  A distinct auditory group-voice began chanting to me.  First it said “Welcome!  You made it; we’ve been expecting you,” and I knew that these were the voices of all the other acid-heads who had broken on through to the other side.  THIS was where acid brought you, to a collective consciousness, the cross-planetary experiment!  People who had only ever taken a little acid only caught glimpses.  I laughed in bliss, and cried, “I’m here!  I see now!”

But then the voices started saying, “We keep TELLING you, and you keep FORGETTING...”

What?  What was I forgetting?  I suddenly sensed that I was mentally retarded, and all of society had evolved without me; I had been living in blighted ignorance for years.  I was allowed to keep living, because this was a just society that pitied me, but I was neglecting my responsibilities to the universe – and only sometimes were they important, but THIS WAS ONE OF THOSE TIMES.

“We keep TELLING you, and you keep FORGETTING...”

Forgetting what?  Forgetting to treat acid reverently?  Forgetting that it’s best taken in honesty and with other people?  Forgetting how to calm down and be an evolved person?  Or were there things I needed to do?

I couldn’t calm down; I was running upstairs and down, throwing clothes out of my closet and back in again, putting on clothes and then stripping them off instantly.  I vomited first into one toilet, then into another, and sprinted around the house, as the syllables kept cycling “Abwor-shuh-throl Rech-uh-sli Boppoli.”  Downstairs in the dark hallway I wailed, “I feel like I’m LOSING my MIND!”

Buzzes, beeps, knocking, sirens, telephones ringing.  What were these sounds?  I realized I was holding my cell phone, and tried to answer it, desperately wailing, “Hello?!”

“You’re caught in the grip of the time-matrix,” the voices said.  “But it’s only one mode of experience.”

I envisioned my friend Joe, whom I hadn’t seen in years but had recently found on Facebook, saying the word “TIME.”  In reality it was the punchline to a joke he made years ago, but I suddenly understood that the whole reason he’d reappeared in my life recently, or at all, was to show me that time is false.  He, and my friend Pam, and other people with whom I’d recently reconnected, had all been planted in this mock-up of existence; they weren’t real except to show me that time wasn’t real...

“Your family members are just place-holders; THIS is your reality.  You’re not real to your family, either; you’re a shell to them, and they’ll never see your mind.”

Buzzz!  Beep!  Clang-clang!  Brrring!

“Your parents are trying desperately to reach you, but you can’t answer the phone...”

I envisioned myself strapped down in a mental ward as my heartbroken parents wept for my lost mind.  Brrrring!  They were trying to reach me!  I desperately picked up every phone in the house, screaming, “HELLO?”  But I heard nothing, only the voices saying, “We keep TELLING you, and you keep FORGETTING...”

Because I’m retarded!  They keep telling me how to live, and I keep forgetting, because I’m mentally disabled!   Everyone else lives in an evolved way, while I keep dragging the Collective Consciousness into my own psychological muck, because I’m a mentally retarded drain on the Cosmic Society!  That must mean there’s still something I need to do...

I started watering the plants obsessively, changing my cats’ food and water bowls, sensing that my task had something to do with tending for other lifeforms.  But I was running out of time... time?

“Look,” said a male voice, “normally your time is your own, and you can waste it if you want.  But NOW is a point when TIME REALLY MATTERS.  There are many people depending on you RIGHT NOW.  We NEED you to do this NOW.”

Do what?  I was retarded; I didn’t even know what he was talking about!  But I suddenly knew that all eyes were on me.  People were watching me, listening to me… how?  The cell phone!  I was still holding it; I must have dialed someone!  Word got out and spread instantly; now everyone knows I’m insane and retarded!

A roaring in the sky, a helicopter:  oh my god, they called the authorities.  They could not only hear me on the phone, but see me from the sky.  This story would make the news!  My life would never be the same!

The male voice was insistent.  “I know you keep forgetting, and have to keep being reminded.  But this is IMPORTANT.  Every second you waste causes GREAT HARM.”

“What do you want me to DO?” I screamed.  “You keep reminding me!  And I keep forgetting!”

Tend... give... create, was kind of the group-mind answer.  I looked at my cats, who were staring at me with scared wide eyes.  I suddenly had the crazy idea that the police/news helicopter outside thought I was holding the cats hostage.  Feline hostage crisis!  If only I could talk to my husband; he could help me clear this up!  “Dan,” I moaned. “I’m sorry, Dan; Dan, I love you.”

Then Dan’s voice sounded in my ears: “I didn’t expect you to do this, certainly not on such a grand scale.  But now that it’s done, try to take the higher path.  Every moment of your life is an opportunity to create and give.”  And I sensed that he knew; he had been to the other side, but he had to let me figure this out for myself.

I went to the upstairs window and told the helicopter/cell phone/group-mind, “This is all a universal experiment in collective consciousness.  No one ever talks about it, but it’s time we talk about it!  The trips we have; the glimpses we get; the matrixes of reality!”

And then I sensed how I was a player in the universe’s grand stage play, amnesiac as ever, unprepared but learning, maybe even a prophet now.  Sometimes you played one role, sometimes another, sometimes all in the same hour.  Sometimes you were a dark, grasping, gaping hole of pure need – which I associated with my dark downstairs – and sometimes you were a wise, giving fountain of light and love, which I associated with my sun-lit upstairs and its distant mountain views.  Anyone could play either role at any time, and psychedelics helped us empathize with the needy ones and taste the gratifying bliss of being one of the strong ones, as well.   Sometimes you’re down there and sometimes you’re up here.  The voices told me, “Oh well, it keeps life interesting.  It’s all part of the gaian mind.”

So I started to feel more peaceful, but was still utterly confused.  I was thinking things like, “I was on live TV and the whole world now knows I’m an acid-head, but at least they no longer think I’m holding my cats hostage.”  And, “Will I get arrested for taking psychedelics and involving the police?”  Then, “No, psychedelics are legal!  How could they not be, when they’re what the reality game is about?  It makes no sense for them to be illegal.”

So I started wondering, “Why did I think they were illegal?”  And I saw all of my life and experiences that had led up to me meeting Benjamin and acquiring the dregs of his acid-bottle as having been set up for me by the Collective, intentionally stage-set.  It was all planned!  All of the elements had been knowingly placed for me to create this moment of un-knowing.   But what did it mean?

Every question I asked, the voices had an answer for.  “The telephone you keep hearing, that’s your life calling.  You can choose to reach out and connect to the universe, or you can let the ringing drive you mad.”  And the thing about time: “It’s not the only matrix.  Things across time are well connected, and simultaneous things are still worlds apart.”

The peak of the trip lasted until about 5:00, at which point I very suddenly came down enough to realize how much of it had been a fantasia.  In reality I had made no phone calls after my initial call to Benjamin; there had been no police or TV news presence; this had all been a madly dramatic projection of my own psychology.  I sensed sanity returning and whimpered, “Oh, thank god thank god thank god.”

I was so humbled by this trip that I still haven’t talked about it to Dan.  I’d like to someday, since I still feel bad for having eluded his trust in me.  I still hope Benjamin’s phone wasn’t tapped.  And now, every day, my own house’s interior sights still trigger visceral memories of that trip; I am condemned to remember.

If I may conclude with a bit of dogmatism, the moral of this story is to know your dose.  And please be honest with your loved ones and yourself.

Exp Year: 2009	ExpID: 81564

Gender: Female

Age at time of experience: 32

Published: Nov 12, 2010	Views: 22,959

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LSD (2) : Entities / Beings (37), Overdose (29), Bad Trips (6), Alone (16)


		 DOSE:

		 2 hits
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (gel tab)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   220 lb

12:42

Two hits of acid, reportedly weak ones, consumed. mm, gelatinthings. They taste funny. I thought they were friggin' plastic at first! I was like... 'durrh? How's this supposed to work???' Then it dissolved.

1:05

I'm hungry. I think I will nibble on something.

1:15

Yay! Mama's homemade rice gruel! With shreds of chicken and scallops!

1:23

Something is... off. I feel different, though I am at a loss to describe exactly how. It is as if I'm me, but I'm not me. I suppose the philosophical implications are that either I am undergoing a change in state of mind or I am undergoing a change in dimensional occupation. Somehow, I like thinking about the change in dimensional occupation. Why? Because this dimension sucks ass.

1:33

Why am I choosing these strange, non-rounded times to write my entries, now? I don't know. I'm noticing a rather definite change in the space around me and the method in which it is being processed through my head. I mean, everything's still there and where it should be, it's just the relative identification my mind has with is... drifting somewhere. Wait, that was terrible. It's... changing. Yes. No. Argh.

1:37

Motion is as it is supposed to be, but my ultimate perception of it is defying explanation. In techie terms, the end user is misreading the EULA (End User License Agreement), the lawyer defining it is a pothead, and the lawyer that wrote it is probably a crackhead. Yeah. The telephone game at its finest. 'Mm-mm good!' turns into 'O RLY?' by the time I hear the last guy say it. Besides that, my initial impressions are good. Amusing. Why bother to do something if it does not serve a purpose, yes? When the purpose is fun, it is technically devoid of meaning and, simultaneously, full of it. With that in mind, is there anything that is truly devoid of meaning? Any given action we have. Even if we consider the seemingly pointless and shallow actions of, say, Paris Hilton (may she burn forever). Is any of it truly meaningless? Purpose in purposelessness. Intriguing concept, is it not? I could probably write of this for days, but I shall not bore you.

1:55

As the effects intensify, I am forced to grin at the possible futility of logging my experience. The very basis of all of my perception is being altered in what seems to be a systematic desynchronization of interneural communication. The keyboard seems to shift with every mental waver, but it does not. My muscle memory retains its integrity, and allows me to type with barely a blink of effort. I've been noticing a mild tremor or jitteriness in just about every skeletal muscle group I know about. The last time this occurred, Ecstasy had worked on me for the first time (details later, I suppose). I would say the trembling is anticipatory, but that does not seem to be the case. Rather, it appears to be a reflexive adrenal outburst in response to an unknown (and possibly dangerous) situation. Rest assured I am fully alert, though I cannot promise the integrity of my feedback on... anything, really.

2:02

The computer screen appears to have turned a mild, but no less dazzling array of colors. The text appearing onscreen is practically meaningless. I hardly want to look at it. Far more fascinating are my fingers, which dance a song unheard of in any human land in any human tongue.

What I am appearing to experience is a complete and utter defiance of every physical law I was told was fundamentally irrefutable. Obviously, these people have never done acid in their lives.

2:08

I think I'm still making sense, but I am... not entirely sure of this anymore. I made one statement with the perception of two... states. Think Gollum from Lord of the Rings, except as a coin flipping so fast I can barely identify which side is where. Fascinating. This idea is... somehow a revelation to me. The image of a coin... It's all in my head, too...

2:15

I was completely and utterly enthralled and entertained by nothing. I spent a few minutes just laughing. I think after a few seconds, I was laughing at the fact that I was laughing. Because laughing is infectious... and I cannot deny that when someone bursts out laughing for no apparent reason, that in and of itself, is worthy of a laugh. May laughter consume our world, then!

...no. It doesn't work that way. Though I may wear a silly smile on my face, I harbor a bitterness towards mankind many people will never know, and that is probably for the better.

What upsets me is not the pointlessness of it all-- no. I already have that internal debate as to whether or not anything is truly pointless or meaningless. What upsets me about mankind is the needlessness of it. Let me say that again.

Needlessness.

Call it a vicious appraisal, call it contempt for the greater good, call it what you like... but the things that man has suffered at the hands of man... the things that animals have suffered at the hands of man...

There was never any need for it.

Never.

Needless violence. The only violence one need engage in is the violence requisite of ensuring one's own survival. Anything past that is as I've said: needless.

Beyond survival. Let's discuss that. What does that mean? It means... more than I need to do to survive. It means... I'm kinda full, but I'd like to have a little more.

The violence involved in the rise of all these great empires which we are so quick to revere is all invariably condemnable by man's own standards. Man's own standards. That's the punchline. That's the fucking punchline. All these heroes... they were born in strife and made by horror, not this brazen glory we paint them in... not these ridiculous renderings of marble, gold, and brass...

How much glory could I possibly bestow Jesus Christ in that tiny little gold necklace of mine? How much love can I possibly depict in one gesture that I would so rightfully call myself a child of God, that I truly know his intentions and can speak his mind?

2:25

...I digress. It seems I've lost myself in a little swirl of anger. Yes, that happens sometimes. Then again, I am here for the trip, so to speak. I suppose... you're all my passengers-- you being whoever is reading this, of course.

This involuntary trembling-- this shivering... it needs to stop. It's rather unnerving. I have a good idea what is causing it, though I can't say it is of much relief.

2:30

I'm noticing more and more during this experience that I am susceptible to suggestion. ...being a bitter person at heart is one thing, but bringing it up is fuelling the fire. Ha. I probably make no sense. I'm forced to laugh at myself. I'm forced to smile at the preposterous nature of all of this writing-- all of these letters all neatly lined up like they're marching into a slaughterhouse. Mmm... meat... Lots of little letter-lambs...

--what the fuck is wrong with me? Really, what is all this? Obviously, speaking as someone who is not within the experience, I would say 'dude... you're tripping. It happens.' when what I should really say is: 'Obviously, you.'

Now that's the fucking trick, isn't it? The best of comebacks are spawned by their point of origin. It makes sense, right now, I swear! You're staring at this like 'WTF, mate? Why the fuck am I still reading this bullshit?'

Why? BECAUSE YOU'RE LOOKING FOR THE SECRETS OF THE FUCKING UNIVERSE! BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Guess what? There aren't any! Because if I know about it, it's not a fucking secret anymore, is it? But if I don't know about it, then my lack of knowledge of its existence really makes that question moot, doesn't it?

HA!

Expansion of the mind, this is... Strange (a word that has been appearing a lot), but... I lost my train of thought. Nevermind. It'll come back to me eventually. Like a snake. rar.

2:40

Oh, yes. Acid is definitely an expansion of the mind, and should be used with that purpose in-hand. Needlessly (there's that word again) 'expanding my mind' is ultimately pointless, though the fun involved in it is not. Oh, the decadence of considering needless brain-expansion for fun... It makes me want to put on a brilliant peacock-array of feathers in blue, purple, and green... and vomit.

See, that is what has been upsetting me about mankind. Needlessness. Yes, back to beating on that old, dead horse... Whatever.

Bottom.

Fragment mind.

Unsure.

Fear? Should I intentionally invoke fear? Dare I?

2:50

...Incredibly fascinating. I've found that by digging into my own head I can weave virtual realities and simulated experiences that essentially feel as real as the things I touch to send out this message.

Death. It is many of our ultimate fears. In some cultures, it is a phenomenon to be embraced. In others, such as our arguably more narcissistic and hedonistic American society, it is the ugliest of the ugly. We daren't touch it with a ten foot pole.

As someone who's felt the movement of his hand one too many times... I find it as another unknown... another infinity to explore, much like this one, though attempting to write about it might be a little difficult once I know what it really is like.

I've dug into my own head and explored some of my fears-- darkness and what it portends. It seems silly to most, but my great issue was the simple fact that I have 'seen' shit without drugs... for years.

It doesn't help a child's natural fears of the nonexistant beasts beyond the shadows waiting for a barely noticable soul to cross by its macrocosmic path to be consumed. Am I making any sense anymore? I understand that I am not trying to, and this is all... quite hilarious... I must sound like some pretentious goth doing the basement troll thing. Rarrarr.

3:00

This is driving me MAD! I am attempting to pursue my darkness, but I am simultaneously avoiding it for fear of my life. Why? If I am my own darkness, then what is there to fear but that which one instills upon themselves? Does that theoretically mean fear is a moot point? Hmm... ... ... ... With that in mind, what need is there for any aggressive action? It all seems so ludicrous.

All these technologies we develop to kill each other. It really is enough to make me burst out laughing at the hopelessmess of it all. This computer you sit at evolved from a machine that projected the trajectory of a battleship's multi-ton explosive shell so that we humans could put it where it would do the most damage. The irony of the origins of our information superhighway.

And this journal seems to reflect such bitterness.... why? In a way, that in and of itself is pointless. The bitterness at the actions of man. I need not punish myself for foul deeds of others, yet philosophically, we all cut off our noses to spite our faces. That is-- some of us would forsake our conveniences so that we can feel better about ourselves. All these concepts... they are so ludicrous, but as humans, we are so attached to these ideas... these... models...

3:10

Fear. It produces a very distinct 'burning knot' sensation in one's chest. Confronting it feels like fire through the very heart of you. Right now, it is difficult for me to explore, since I am easily distracted. The things that would typically make me cringe--things like rotting veins of flesh on my body-- I can see them when I close my eyes... but I don't feel fear when I see them because I am aware that I am controlling them. It would be redundant to fear the product of one's own mind, but if that were the intention, would that mean I was unsuccessful? Or not entirely, as I continue to flip-flop about this like a dying fish? The images are funny-- hardly fearful.

You're probably asking, 'why fear? Why do you -want- to feel fear? Right now, of all times? Are you FUCKING NUTS?' Yeah, I guess that's your answer.

I'm trying to come up with the most terrifying means by which my existence would consume itself... but to no avail. Odd.

Is it because I want to be able to feel real fear without being in real danger? What is this human obsession with being close to that? Because we can barely touch it, perhaps....

...

...

I might be thinking too much...

...Oh my god it hasn't been ten minutes.

Revelation two seconds into pissing:

Remember, the key is to embrace my mind rather than eviscerate it.

6:39

I know I've had a good trip when all the muscles I've used for fucking have officially been labelled 'overused'. The lovely headswimming details of which, I'm afraid, I must deprive you all... but for the record... this has been a definitively positive experience.

Well, I suppose images of anthropomorphized drugs swimming in pools of liquid of questionable origin will have to suffice.

Without any surprise, I must note this powerful hallucingen's near-miraculous qualities in the right hands while simultaneously remarking on the immutable truth of the following quote: 'with the ability to help comes the ability to harm'.

Anything involving the mind can be thought of as a jigsaw puzzle. All the pieces are there. I just have to pick out the pieces and arrange them myself. Just as this drug can make a mind whole again, it has the ability to completely shatter one. It doesn't really matter whether that happens by my own hands or someone else's, the potential to go in either direction is still there.

Exp Year: 2007	ExpID: 65797

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Dec 9, 2010	Views: 238,451

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LSD (2) : General (1), Alone (16)