Citation: Regulus. "The Ego Shredder: An Experience with DPT (exp1868)". Erowid.org. Jun 16, 2000. erowid.org/exp/1868
||(powder / crystals)
I split a measured 750 mg into six piles, and chose one of the fatter piles. Split it into two lines for insufflation.
I like to trip once every three months or so. It is bar none the best way for me to remind myself of many of the basic things that are important to me, things that are easy to forget, things that keep me centered. To remind myself who I really am, where I'm going, what I want. I have felt that a number of the problems I've been having recently--not real problems, not like I used to get, mind you, but just minor annoyances in an otherwise happy reality--could be solved by a good trip. We will see.
At any rate, my head does feel...unclogged.
I did have a few specific things I was aiming to think about and accomplish: Renew my goal wrt school, aim my head for studying again, and also consider various aspects of a current creative writing project I'm working on dealing with Christian mythology.
Back room at a creative art and writing party, with all of my fellow companions notified of my intentions for that space for the next few hours.
Felt first effects at about ten minutes. Very quick rise into a strong peak, ego-loss, the whole shebang. Peak lasted until around an hour or an hour and a half after imbibement. I was still tripping strong right up until I got to work, about five and a half hours later. It's been about six and a half, and I have that post-trip god-I'd-love-to-nap feeling.
I felt the first effects within ten minutes. After saying a brief prayer and doing the lines, I settled down with some Phish and read the Gospel of Thomas on the way up. Read probably about fifteen verses into it when I could no longer focus...when the edges of everything began to blur and fade, and the music grew deeper and oh so much more encompassing.
My heart began to pound. Fight-or-flight reactions. Fear reflexes kicked in, I'm fighting to control my breath with an *Aum, it's sweeping into me and through me and the pieces of me are breaking apart, identity mind soul spirit heart body fall apart and drift away from each other to explore their own truths.
Mind. My life is a chessboard. I am building strategies. I have pieces to move, pieces to sacrifice. There are many other players, I don't have just one opponent. Or rather I do, but my Opponent is one far stronger than me, that Machine that consumes and cares nothing for Life, Mammon, and so greater strategy is required of me. If I try to assault the Machine directly, it will smash me into little bits, nail me to a cross and let ravens tear out my eyes. No, the tactic is sublety. Slow growth of seeds planted in the rusty cracks of the Machine, where it has fallen apart. And those seeds are tended by families and tribes and love. The growth of those seeds is the Kingdom of Heaven. The Kingdom comes gradually, from embrace to embrace. And the old systems will crumble, not shatter, and the Machine will rust and fall apart, and as they do, then those adhering to the old systems will feel fear, and react fearfully, the End Is Coming! The End Is At Hand! A loving embrace will sooth those fears, and many loving embraces will be needed in the days to come.
And spirit dances, and soul moves. I can see the tapestry of history and my place in it. There were animals. Then there were smart animals. That formed tribes. And they made friends with plants and learned from plants. And made friends with animals, and had totems. Co-operatives with the consciousnesses present in environment. And then certain machines began to ensnare the minds of humans...humans lost in their tools. The war chariot. The sword. The farm becomes a factory for manufacturing food. And death begins.
Save the world. We're going to save the world. Slowly. Through love. Forces of hate are still at work out there. They must not be fought thrasingly, but lovingly.
Heart. 'how's the girl front?' she asked me. 'oh, the usual. a zillion crushes.' 'you need some focus, to narrow it down a bit,' she advised. I answered, 'don't really have much interest in that, tho.' 'ah, yeah,' she said, thinking she was comprehending, 'when i was in school i didn't have much time for boys.' well, yeah, that's part of it. ok, but see, there's a secret i don't reveal often about myself, is that while i am truly an insatiable flirt, i am also on one level an incurable romantic. and, the thing is, i have indeed narrowed my focus in that field, and chosen a One that i want to pursue. but not in any immediate sense. no, i have made that decision, and that avenue is open to us, and now i can set aside that decision, and wait until our friendship has grown and blossomed and become a thing that will stand on its own before...well, whatever. i don't tell her this because i'm a little afraid it might freak her out or something, since she's the Top Of My List, but at the same time marked off of it for now. but it is also true that i barely have time to think about this.
and word is the creation of concept. in the beginning there was the spirit. and it was shaped by word. and through soul descended into flesh, where it gave birth to heart, mind, and wisdom.
and a jewish magician, a scholar-craftsman, two thousand years ago, sick of turning water into wine as a party trick, wanting something more out of life, goes to be bathed and initiated into Greater Mysteries. he treks into the desert, and finds the Kingdom of Heaven, and then tries to bring it to the world. they call him Messiah, he accepts the role. they turn against him when he is not the Messiah they were wanting. he is tortured and killed for this.
but mary, of magdala, mary, priestess of astarte of the thousand husbands, mary with the thousand kissed mouth and thousand bitten neck, she holds the wisdom of the goddess. she is the daughter of goddess, and in her sorrow, descends to meet Death, shedding her mortal identity to achieve goddesshood, shedding that to achieve Death, and meeting her lover. resurrecting him, but sacrificing herself, and her cult, for the next two thousand years, for another Aeon.
and he walks the earth again, trying to preach his message. but his word has been written in stone, and he is tortured and killed once again, along with the Goddess. but the seeds are planted, and from embrace to embrace, the message spreads. the final character in the story will be the family who has learned from the Martyr, and who teaches the message of love to their children.
oh, these chemicals are fantastic. that organic tryptamine feel, but without the agenda of the dimethyl amine which i had met before. i want to do everything i can for the Psychedelic Movement. as a research scientist, i will be a tool for the Movement, mythologized as the Mushroom in Her manifold forms.
Identity. Out here in tripspace, everything is stripped away. Continuity is dissolved, and each moment does not lead smoothly into the next. Each moment, each feeling and thought, leaves a tracer, which weaves a pattern, just as in my visuals. Ego, identity, 'I,' is a reflex. the thought that comes next is reflex. is determined by habit. do I go into alarm? do I go into fear? am i safe? can i hear the mantra that is continually beating in my heart? om mani padme hum can i hear a fragment of song? what faces come to me, in my reflex? what is it i imagine? strategize. puzzle. think. well worn tracks in the habit of self.
my. i am fantastically tired at the moment. i could use a nap.
Final Notes on DPT [written a few days after the trip]:
All in all, I found it a very excellent experience. The ego-loss was quite complete, with the process leading to that state more like being shredded than being shattered. Compare to DMT or 5-MeO-DMT--those short ten minute trips are like psychedelic sledgehammers, whereas DPT is more like being put through a slow humming paper shredder, or like being a salt crystal dissolving in water.
The space was quite similar to DMT. I would even call the peak of the experience a 'flash.' The principle difference is that I had no sense of contacting other intelligences. No pesky elves trying to tell me things, no aliens. A few gods, but I meet them a lot. The space favored organic visions and holistic thought, much like psilocybin, and didn't lend itself well to analytic probing, as 2C-B and LSD can. The visuals were very rich and encompassing. I had visions of the sort I only get on superbly intense acid trips, when whole metaphoric scenes play out, feeling complete and real, something like a dream but more solid, and with every imagined gesture rich with meaning. I glimpsed neither the Void nor the White Light on DPT (I suspect this to be related to the dosage and to a certain degree the lack of preparation for either of those experiences) but I was reduced to nothingness on a personal level.
All in all, a wonderful morning, and a drug I'd be happy to try again, perhaps in a more ritual setting.
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