Citation: LeoSynDicate. "God Consciousness Humbly Observed: An Experience with 4-HO-DiPT (exp48639)". Erowid.org. Jul 9, 2006. erowid.org/exp/48639
I say that my dose is approximately 40mg because I don't have a scale. I knew that what I had in supply was about 90mg and I consumed slightly less than half of it for this session. Patience was not my virtue on this exquisite night, and my recently purchased .01g handheld digiscale had not yet arrived.
In terms of dosage for what I needed, this proved to be right on.
First, some background on me. I'm a veteran tripper of a variety of substances, but mostly LSD. At date of writing, I have exactly 9 months sober off alcohol and mind-altering substances other than 2 disappointing experiments with something called snuffadelic which I can best describe as fluffy diet-DXM in qualitative terms, and which I don't really count due to their unremarkableness.
I have nearly a year sober off methamphetamines.
Both of these figures marking my abstinence from dependency inducing chemicals and as such, progression marks on my return to sanity as a contributing member of society, I take some credit in and intend to uphold. It is my deepest desire that the path I have chosen tonight will not threaten or undermine what I've worked so hard at, this last year. I hope my writing becomes evidence of my sincerity as well as a record of its fruition. I am an active member of AA and I plan on attending a morning meeting in about 9 hours. I will not talk about what I have done here, for they would surely not understand and those who might, would only do so through pinched lips. That is okay. I can go forth with my sobriety and my program unabashed, I truly believe. Only time will tell. I promise myself now, that for my sake, I will find at least one co-12 stepper to which, this session, I will confide within a months time.
The reason I have turned to hallucinogens this night is quite frankly, writer's block. I am a poet and the veins of my inspiration have for nearly two years, been regrettably starved. Fuel for my poetry and inspiration for my perspective was the original draw and reward of my passionate love-affair with lsd. This inspiration was ultimately bled dry and ruined by an addiction to speed. Sobriety has gently eased my state of mind into a healing condition, however the inspiration inasmuch evades my reach. This night was a successful attempt to recapture it.
T+1:00 - Onset
T+1:30 - Ambiguity
T+2:00 - Resignation
T+2:30 - Feeling encouraged
T+3:00 - Pink floyd set up to play continuously for the next several hours. this period marks the establishment and rapid ascent towards peak during which I wrote the two poems which I've posted at the end of this report. at about T+4, I began writing this report.
What can I say about Iprocin, this lovely, subtle, potent substance. It snuck in, just under the radar it seems, to deliver just what I needed to get the wheels turning. I regret that I could not turn them sober. I hope this lesson helps me to learn how to do that very thing.
It starts with lsd-esque tremors. A feeling throughout the body that physicality is more transitory than it previously appeared. My teeth begin to feel as though they can be stretched like taffy, if only I knew how. When I close my eyes, I am somewhere else, with no disquieting transitions. When I open them, I return again. Synesthesia rears its flirtatious head and bats a seductive eyelash. My hair feels Auburn. Acoustic guitar chords dance along white picket fences in my reciprocating eardrums, tasting like wooden cornflakes which are ironically delicious. I miss my old dog whom I haven't had the privilege of nuzzling for over 5 years, I miss my ex-fiancée, but with a nostalgia that shies gratefully away from regret.
It is now T+4:30 I'm still tripping along swimmingly, though I can tell it's beginning to wear off.
God and faith have become quite the struggle for me, of late. This struggle has been quieted by the gifts of this experience. I feel that from here on out, I could not possibly describe the journey I have taken tonight, better than if I simply offer the poems it has produced. Here they are:
Yours is the dark face from nightmares, I fear
Yours is the sweetness that flavors despair
Yours is the illusion that keeps me from seeing
That Yours is the light which I'm constantly fleeing.
You are the shadow that shudders and shimmers
You are the anguish that boils and simmers
You are the solace that savors the touch
Of Your timid fingers, reluctant as such.
Yours is the distance of maddening breadth
Yours is the persistence of saddening depth
Yours is the intrusion that proves beyond doubt
That Yours is the inclusion thats not sought from without.
You are the statue that lithely seduces
You are the flower secreting Your juices
You are the picture that blindness unveils
Of Your righteous fathoms no faith can assail.
Yours is the tragedy no war can provoke
Yours is the innocence no power can choke
Yours is the beauty whose perfect design
is That Yours is belief in the truth of Mankind.
Faith is a sacrifice with no thought of reward
Faith is a compromise the broke can afford
Faith is the spoil of willpower's failure
To cast aside Faith as a servile endeavor.
Faith is a cosmic tug-of-war struggle
Faith in its controversy births all sorts of trouble
Faith evolves from a state of surrender
To ascend Faith's ladder in gallantry's splendor.
Faith is the power that opinion pretends
Faith is the flower love strives to defend
Faith is a fragrance, enticing believers
To elevate Faith throughout all their achievements.
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