Citation: safemouse. "Couldn't Get Off the Runway: An Experience with H.B. Woodrose (exp87168)". Erowid.org. Jun 1, 2021. erowid.org/exp/87168
I hoped the idea behind taking this benediction was that something paradigm shifting would happen. That was absolutely the case when I took dear, horrible Blighty's Liberty Cap many years ago. I simply cannot put into words how it jolted me into a reved up reverie of joie de vivre, empathy and imagination. And marijuana has always been a good mainstay, even if it isn't a trip beyond escape velocity.
Now I don't wish to write HBW off, because there are so many factors. The strain I took (grown in Thailand, said to be inferior), the method of extraction (chewed, held in the mouth for a minute and swallowed), the mood I was in (anxious, guilty), the lowish dose and the person (introspective, intellectual and a little unusual). And it was by no means ineffective. But I can tell you that after reading other reports I was fearing meltdown, that I seriously wondered if I would need to be locked in a room. I knew that there was no telling what decisions I might make on it. In the event, it was not unlike being drunk without slurring my speech or on ecstasy; which doesn't have a euphoric effect on me. More a sadly sympathetic one. It just opened me up a little.
It just opened me up a little.
I was nauseous but didn't throw up, I found that I wanted to talk into my dictaphone about Shakespeare and Fletcher's play, Henry VIII, and did so for a large amount of time. On listening back to it when sober you wouldn't know I was tripping and my insights are a perhaps a little more lucid than they'd typically be. I did realise what a line by Fletcher meant, which for years had evaded me.
I said a prayer just before the trip began, asking to be used kindly and I was. I asked not for kicks, but for some sort of guidance. If the guidance came, it was that drugs have a limited effect on you when you are already spouting what you truly believe in. Whether that's true or not, the trip didn't make me into a life coach with a new approach. I had no visuals, no enhanced appreciation or notably multiplied perspective of media, I didn't experience paranoia. I remained very much atypically in control of myself. I had five bars of chocolate in the fridge and didn't eat one, because I want to give them away, and I think that was a good litmus test of how I kept a soberesque leash on myself. Just a thoughtful, fragile journey in which I often went and lay on my bed huddled up. I suppose I hoped for a peak that never came.
I want to thank HBW for not traumatising me, I woke up the next morning dehydrated and 'even as a calm'. (One of Fletcher's better analogies, presumably referring to a flat sea.) Not happy or sad, or particularly empty, and glad to find myself near the default state. (I went to sleep about six hours after I ingested.)
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