Citation: Tumbleweed. "Shiva the Ultravisitor: An Experience with DMT (exp74820)". Erowid.org. Aug 29, 2009. erowid.org/exp/74820
||(powder / crystals)
LSD had been consumed earlier in the evening - I was three hours from baseline. If I kept my eyes still, the world morphed uncontrollably. If I allowed them to wander the landscape of my room, everything fluttered and left a trail of shadows behind it. The world was like a book whose pages were being fanned. The membrane between my ego and reality was loose - as good a time as any to smoke DMT.
Cueing a 37 minute long Indian duet between L. Subramanian on the Indian violin and Ali Akbar Khan on the sarod (with a tabla drummer buoying their battling strings), I loaded an unknown but generous amount of DMT into my pipe. I moved my most comfortable chair to the center of my rug, and aligned it so that it faced the tapestry mounted on my wall. This tapestry was woven by members of the Shipibo tribe, a tribe for whom DMT plays an important role in the shamans' brew of ayahuasca.
For some time I just breathed. There is no room for fear in the DMT experience, I am learning. I listened to the sounds of the Indian music wash over me...something in the way the notes bent and wavered seemed to speak to a truth about the vibratory nature of all things, the energy washing and undulating through everything. I let my breaths grow deeper, my lungs preparing to hold the sacred vapor for as long as they could.
It's getting easier to smoke DMT. The anxiety is becoming fleeting. I began lighting the underside of the oilburner pipe with no hesitation - it was what it was. One hit, then another...all in all five deep tokes taken of the hot, plastic-tasting white vapor, each hit held in so long that I seemed to exhale nothing at all. I put the pipe down as it all washed over me...
With the classic psychedelics psilocybin and DMT, there is a cognizance, for me at least, of the membrane between my ego and reality. I would call that membrane 'experience.' The experience is something I am aware of - it is the border between myself and the All, and I understand how each is bleeding into the other. I understand, after this recent experience, what it is that makes DMT so entirely something else. I am tempted to say DMT is invasive, and yet the connotation of that word is more sinister than the feeling I wish to convey. Perhaps DMT is not invasive so much as it is pervasive. Psilocybin, LSD, these drugs can be immersive, and enveloping. I can feel as if I am swimming in their experiences, or that the experience is swimming inside my mind. But there is the outer world and the inner.
DMT came crashing down upon me on this night. I breathed deeply as the world began to morph before my eyes, melting and oozing. It oozed into me. Looking back upon the trip I have written about much, the DMT experience where I thought I was bleeding my soul out into the world, I understand now that the liquidity of the experience was actually the DMT reality pouring INTO me and not out.
As I sat in my chair the other night, watching the Shipibo tapestry, multiverses unfolded before my eyes and I decided I was ready to close them and see what worlds my mind would lead me to with the aid of the DMT. Intricately fractal and repeating patterns washed over me. I moaned out loud, I am sure of it - I sighed with both pleasure and awe and a sense of being utterly overwhelmed by the grandiosity of existence, its perfection, the perfect order in the chaos. I traveled through many colors until finally the colors became purple and green, favorites of mine.
My eyes still closed, I lifted up my arms. I wanted to be held by the liquid crystalline tapestries pouring over me. To say I 'saw' these tapestries with my eyes closed is simply inadequate...they poured over me and into me. As I breathed, I felt these patterns filling my lungs and running through my veins. I lifted my arms, moving my hands to what I now realized in the distance was the Indian music duet. It was then that Shiva appeared to me, the Hindu goddess, but not in any familiar form to me from Hindu art that I had seen in my lifetime. It is extremely difficult to explain - she was a monstrous machine, somewhat insectoid in that she seemed to be spawning all the reality around her, but she was beautiful. Purple and green latticed, she danced, her hips swaying most seductively. There was an unspoken conversation between us. She urged me to join her. I watched her dance and I moaned at the beauty of it, of this expression of the godhead showing me what seemed a precious secret, and I rose up out of my chair opening my eyes.
The smile on my face could have devoured the world - it was epic. Joy coursed through my veins and I became finely attuned to the music playing. I listened to the twang, the sounds of this foreign holy music, and I moved, moved in a way that was not for fun but for joy. I danced, and it was a celebration. Shiva had shown herself to me and I felt I owed her a tribute. The song was a 37-minute long duet and this was perhaps 7 minutes into it. For the remaining half hour, parched for water but denying it to myself in the spirit of asceticism, I danced across the rug in my room, the scent of incense wafting all around me. I danced with unseen things, women, entities. I danced with myself. I felt aware of myself as Human Being in a way I rarely have experienced. An individual being, a spiritual being, a sexual being, a social being, a Being of infinite expressions. My every movement, my every moment, is a tiny step on the journey deeper into myself.
My experience with psychedelics has been a journey into myself. It's been a long, strange trip, no pun intended. They have meant a lot to me - they have shown me that there is much more to reality than the tangibles that science discusses. They've shown me the Mystery, and I'm convinced it exists. But I must say, it was DMT, and continues to be DMT, that gives me a feeling of being religious. Not religious for God, or for any sort of dogma, but simply being religious about being alive. Joy. Amen.
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