DOSE:

750 seeds

oral

Morning Glory

(extract)

BODY WEIGHT:

150 lb

Flower Power

It was to be another boring labor day family beach gathering. The extended family hand rented a top rate 3 story, 8 bedroom each house, with about 20something relatives of all ages chipping in for this luxury. We had a mid-sized pool, a hot tub, and the mighty Atlantic in the backyard, right up the stairs over the dune.

But this was all 400 miles from home, which meant an 8 hour drive, one with all 5 dysfunctional family members crammed into a rented midsize 'luxury' sedan. Fortunately, I had anticipated this, and therefore procured fifteen 0.5 mg clonazepam tabs. The ride down required 3 straight up, and 2 more about halfway through. Anxiety and boredom was eliminated with those downers and the help of my priceless CD player, and with the Doors and the Greatful Dead going full time, the cruise was smooth.

Shortly after we arrived at our subtropical paradise, my younger brother (19) mentioned that he had brought along his stash of heavenly blues, remnants of the pound (only $20 from a trusted web vendor!!) we had purchaced sometime mid-March and been experimenting with since. I was slightly hesitant at first, as all my previous attempts with morning glories had been just a lot of work grinding and filtering, only to end up vomiting violently within 10 - 30 minutes after ingestion. I had written them off as a cheap, second-rate, gut churning psychedelic that didn't even get you frying decent.

But I remained hopeful, plus it was getting late and it was now or never. So we hitched a ride with my aunt and cousin to the local grocery store, where we located a coffee grinder for only $14.99. We both knew from experience this was the only to pulverize those tough, angular black seeds. So we split the cost, rationalizing that it was better than using a pepper grinder for hours and turning our arms into weak noodles.

At around 1:30 in the AM, when all the straight and decent folks had gone to bed, we began the extraction process. We measured out slightly over 1/3 cup, which my brother had found to be about 1400 - 1500 seeds, which would give us a good dose when split evenly. Into the grinder went the seeds, which were properly crushed in about 30 seconds or so. Then we employed a water extraction process that I'd seen posted on the internet, which worked well for that anonymous psychonaut. The powder was dumped into the measuring cup, a little lower now than the 1/3 line. A bottled water was pilfered from the fridge and used to fill the cup to about the 3/4 point. The solution was stirred for about 10 minutes, and had acquired the color and consistency of wet beach sand.

We placed 3 paper towels over a wide mouth cup as a filter, and slowly poured the thick magic fluid through. Of course, the sludge had the consistency of mud, so I squeezed the bundle and let the thick goop flow into the cup. When the mush had become squeezed out, we dumped all the sandy clumps on fresh paper towels, being sure to scrape all the precious seed pulp on the paper. I then doused it with a splash of water, and kept squeezing the sacred fluid out. We repeated the process with the gob of seed powder a couple times until it looked completely spent, resembling a clump of dry, sandy clay. We dumped our extract into the aforementioned measuring cup, then divided it equally into our now empty water bottles.

In the past I had tried to dilute the small amount of thick fluid with water or juice. My brother, however, recommended slamming it like a shot of hard liquor. Since he never puked from the seeds, I decided to give it a go. We both gulped the thick extract down in a few gulps, chased by a can of Mountain Dew to wash away the strange, earthy taste. At about 2 AM, we both got it down.

My brother has a slower metabolism, so it doesn't come on as quick for him. After we finished our beverages, he took a walk several blocks to the 7-11 and left me to wait, assuring me he'd be back soon. Ten or so minutes after drinking the extract, the familiar intestinal and psychic discomfort started to hit me. I moved slowly and cautiously to the bathroom, worried sick after all my previous experiences with MG induced nausea. As I sat on the porcelean throne with wastebasket in hand, the discomfort got worse. My stomach and bowels were clenching, and the white walls and shower curtain seemed shifty and wavy, like the onset of good shrooms. I tried very hard not to panic and lose my dose.

A lot has been written about reducing the inevitable nausea from morning glories, and as for me, i had tried and failed with cannabis, diphenhydramine, pepto bismol, or combinations of them all. This time, i had none of these, having been unable to score for reefer before the trip. Instead I headed to my futon, got my headphones, and sat eyes closed with my back against the wall, listening to the soft, aching, soothing tunes of Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground. I knew it was important to keep this terrible plant poison down as long as possible, and the best way seemed to stop looking at my watch in panic, let the beautiful music be my timekeeper and distract me from the paniced, poisoned feelings in my head and guts.

And miraculously, it worked. A little after 3 AM, I opened my eyes and the pain and anxiety had faded considerably. The headphones were blocking out all the bad noise. I stared at my sister falling asleep obliviously on the couch across the room. She was watching some TV show, which I glanced at for several minutes without turning off my phones. Lou Reed was still blaring in my head, and soon I realized the pictures on the TV screen were moving kinda strange and had lost perception of time, and with no sound, nothing on the screen was making any sense at all. I started to laugh at the absurdity, and all my discomfort and worry faded away. Around then, my brother came in and told me the nausea was hitting him hard. He has a slower metabolism and about 30 pounds on me. I told him I was cool, recommended he borrow my CD player, put on some chill tunes, and relax for a bit, reassuring him that it worked wonders for me. I grabbed my notebook, walked outside to the steps leading to the beach, smoked a few cigarettes, and watched the ocean for a bit.

Nicotine stimulates the brain, and as I sat and smoked watching the ocean, I began to feel like Kerouac at Big Sur. Watching the shocking white pearl breaker filled me with a sense of wonder at the vastness of the great Atlantic. The MG's were gaining in strength and my mind was starting to break free like the flower opening at dawn. I gazed at the stars, clouds, and hidden moon. Even though I doubt there's intelligent life out there, I looked across the sea and remembered (knew?) prehistoric men stood on the edge of the sea and thought it was endless and infinite. Who knows what we'll know a thousand years from now if we get that far.

I decided to check up on my brother. He was lying on my futon, told me his nausea was the worst he'd ever had. I spoke with the words of one who'd been there recently, reassuring him that this was a shamanistic drug, like mushrooms, DMT, or peyote and he could get through it cause his spirit and intentions were good, or something like that. He told me he just needed a little nap, so I went outside again and sat in the hot tub, sucking on a vitamin C candy. The orange flavor was delightful, and I remembered Kesey's bus and the acid laced OJ and this set my mind all chuckling.

I imagined myself as a cave-dwelling prehistoric man sitting in his sacred hot springs. It struck me as absurd that our society has evolved to this, we have to pay hundreds or thousands for hot tubs, or even a weekend at the beach. It seemed so sick and unfair how this is, the rich and greedy have bought up all the beautiful spots to make themselves richer by renting them out to the rest of us proles, so we have to work our lives away to afford what should be free for all. Leave the work to the machines, I said. By now i was tripping hard and vocalizing my thoughts in the hot tub. It's not our nature to put on pinchy shoes and tie silk nooses around our necks, wasting our time in pointless factories and paper-shuffling nonsense. Let us use our big brains and opposable thumbs to make machines to do all that soul killing shit for us.

I went back to get my brother as soon as the vitamin C candy was melted away and I had another cigarette. He was better now, and on my suggestion we sat in the hot tub for a while and babbled like tripping fools. Ideas and slogans were shared, back and forth like verbal tennis. I remember making such profound statements like 'We must seperate ourselves from the lower animals with our cigarettes and dollar bills!' We talked about drugs and partying and psychedelics and addicts. Then it came to me and I blurted it out 'Are you trying to find the natural order...or you just frying your eggs?' I knew then at once I was on the right path and in that instant I felt a surge of joy and peace flow through by veins and engulf me in a way that only psychedelics can, and the bubbles in the tub were sparkling like diamonds.

I walked down to the beach to smoke another camel, and noticed there were patches of black sand that sparkled when stomped on. I later learned these were some sort of phosphorescent microorganisms in the sand, being triggered by kinectic energy, but still it was one of the most magic experiences I've ever had. I smoked for a while, stomping around the beach watching my footsteps spark. I was primitive man finding fire, the first man on the moon. I grabbed up seashells and hurled them into the black sand, watching them impact like roman candles.

I wandered back, intending to tell my brother about this miracle. I found him in the pool, spinning lazy on a float. He told me he ws rising high, I was peaking, I said. My magic plateau. I grabbed my notebook and pen, desperate to preserve memories of this sacred madness. I scribbled my thoughts and notions, trying to write a sacred text, trying to gain wisdom for later use. Anyway, he was chanting some Buddhist koan, spinning in the water, completely twisted. I came up with my own holy sacred chant. I shouted 'Morning Glory is the Flower Power!' I kept saying this, he chanted along, him floating, me sitting and writing, till i finally yelled Amen, and suggested we check out the beach.

We were both madmen, playing in the glowing sand, writing sacred truths and profane riddles with driftwood sticks. We talked of literature, poetry, and art, then waded into the black ocean. I told him one day it would rise up and swallow the whole earth. He said something like 'It'll still be the Earth, man, we'll evolve gills or flippers or something. It wasn't pessimistic or cynical, nothing like that, just inevitable, like the sun will one day explode and set the earth on fire.

As the sun started to rise, I started to come down. I felt safe to go in the house of sleeping people and grab my camera, getting great shots of the dunes and sand, of the early morning sun, and the pink, purple, pearly, and blue clouds...and their rippling reflection. As my trip faded to a twinkle, I remembered to shout prayers and praises to everyone who helped or influenced my magical night. I praised Lou Reed, Jim Morrison, Buddah, the anynonymous internet poster who was brave enough to share the sacred seed extraction recipie, William S. Burroughs, Elizabeth Wurtzel, William Blake, Jack Kerouac, and all those who took their trips before me and brought back the knowledge so that I too might transcend mundane reality and (hopefully) bring back something of higher value.

-brian damaged 9/1/03

Exp Year: 2003	ExpID: 26555
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: May 2, 2007	Views: 8,486
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Morning Glory (38) : Mystical Experiences (9), Glowing Experiences (4), Small Group (2-9) (17)