Citation: mundane. "Psilohuasca: Relaxing Into It: An Experience with Syrian Rue & Mushrooms (exp87878)". Erowid.org. Jan 21, 2014. erowid.org/exp/87878
I swallow the capsules of ground syrian rue seeds around 11:15 AM with some orange juice, smoke some weed, sit back on the couch. At noon I eat the mushrooms with crackers and peanut butter. It's tough to eat. I don't like the flavor and I don't want to be eating. I end up just chewing it to mush, then swallowing it with water.
I've only ever used rue once before, with mescaline, and that made me throw up. So I'm drinking plenty of fluids, in case I need something to vomit later.
An hour later, I retreat to my room and put on Sigur Ros. The anxieties I'd experienced last time I took mushrooms a week ago come back, and I get uncomfortable wondering what I'm doing with my day, why I'm just spending it at home, staring out the window.
I can't settle down, can't stop to observe any one thing before needing to move on to something else. The trip is beginning and I'm worried that it won't last long, that I'll have little time to get everything in. Two grams of mushrooms isn't much, and I've never done it with rue. I don't know how they'll work.
I'm beginning to feel hungry. I get irrationally worried about not providing my body with enough nutrition. I worry about the MAO inhibition, though I've been over the list of forbidden foods again and again and each time find out that there's nothing I really eat or drink, anyway. Just no protein shakes.
I feel cold. It's hasn't rained yet, but it's been overcast all day. I have my door open to the outside, but I want it that way; it makes my room feel less claustrophobic.
Hunger drives me out of the room. I throw something in the oven, put on a kettle for tea. I stare at the walls, the floor, the cars outside. The visuals aren't strong, but there's definitely movement. Light's brighter, colors are more vivid. I take a Coke out of the fridge and screw off the top just as the kettle starts whistling. Ah well, I guess I'll have the tea later. I put it into a travel cup to keep it warm, take lunch out of the oven, and head back into my room.
I'm not all that hungry, after all, and food doesn't taste all that good. I chew slowly and stare out the window, still feeling uncomfortable. It's about 2 PM now, two hours since eating my magic crackers. I finish my plate of food and the bottle of Coke and sit on the stoop. The clouds look nice, but it's so bright outside. I don't think overcast skies are normally this bright and difficult to look at. Must be the way I'm perceiving light.
Finally, I look up. Wow, there's a whole sky over my house, and it looks beautiful! I lay down on the stoop. The clouds are incredible, but I also have a fantastic view of the overhang of my roof and all of the cobwebs hanging from it.
I change the music to a playlist of my favorite Animal Collective songs and grab a pair of sunglasses. I want to find a nice place to sit to enjoy this, but it's not like we keep a whole lot of couches outside (okay, there is that big chair, but the dogs have claimed it). It takes me a while to become comfortable with the idea of lying down in the middle of our paved driveway, but that proves to be the best observational point. It's a fenced-in backyard, but I'm still concerned that a neighbor will see me and wonder what it is I'm doing.
Especially since I end up doing it for about three hours. The sun's just past its zenith when I get out there, and has managed to burn off the thinning clouds in spots. But at the same time, colder storm clouds are moving in from the west, obscuring the sun once more. The sun burns off, gets covered, shines through, is shaded - the back and forth battle of sun vs clouds rages on in the early afternoon. I watch it all, fascinated by the battle and delighted with the beautiful sights it provides.
Things are definitely trippy. The movement of the skies (the movement that is not actually happening, that is) makes it looks like there's a heaving, storming (albeit slowly rolling) ocean of clouds above. Light shines through the thinner clouds and in the gaps of fluffy filament, lighting them up with arcing fractals of diamond light. The fractals divide the skies, and birds that fly by are divided along these fractal paths - potential flight patterns flash by, red and black, and then blink out as they go unused and the bird takes another course.
It is visually strong, but lacks some of what I've had with just mushroom experiences of this visual strength. I don't see the shadows, the hovering light. I'm not yawning constantly. It's quite similar to a typical mushroom experience, but also has distinctions. I don't know if that's because it's a low dose, or because of whatever the rue's adding. Either way, I think this is the way to go - use less psilocybin and still get the stunning visuals. And I never get nausea, either. I don't feel great all day, but I never feel like throwing up.
I still have some anxieties about lying in the middle of the yard and about having my music so loud. It's about four in the afternoon and the neighbors have arrived home and are making a bit of noise in their backyard, adjacent to where I'm lying. When the sun does peak out, I see a perfect white roundness in the sky, seemingly some distance from the source of the light. I wonder if a full moon is passing closely by the sun. I eventually have to conclude that it's the sun, and I worry that I've looked at it far too long in trying to discern what, exactly, it was. There are stories of people on psychedelics looking at the sun to the point of causing eye damage, and though I have my sunglasses on, I don't want to take any risks. I can see just how beautiful the sun could be under the conditions, though.
A few drops patter on my head, but the rain never comes. And while I'd found it very cold earlier in the day, I'm rather comfortable now, even though I've been outside on pavement for a couple of hours. In fact, I'm beginning to feel euphoric. The playlist ends, and I decide to grab my laptop and bring it outside with some earbuds, essentially using it as a giant iPod (why I didn't use my real iPod is a boring story). While I love being able to pick the exact songs I want to hear at that moment, navigating the screen is a pain, and I forget to change the songs in time (or don't want to be bothered with making the effort to change it in the first place).
I find that proper music is an essential component of the psychedelic experience. People say that time goes by very slowly when you're altered, minutes stretching into hours, but what I say is that you're unable to lose yourself in an activity. Time does not just fly by, you experience every moment of it. I've found I become aware of just how slowly time passes. Sit still for a minute, counting the seconds. Seems longer than a minute might. Now do that for an entire day. It's tough to be 'present' like that for an entire day, and music that you love is a very nice thing to spend that kind of time with.
As the sky darkens, the west shines golden. Clouds look like they're dams which are failing and will soon be unable to contain the radiant light they're holding back. Beaming rays slice through gaps in the cloud cover. No thoughts of any god come to mind, but I do thank the natural process which has made this day possible. It's a gorgeous afternoon, and I'm glad to be witness to it.
My computer's battery gives out and I head back inside. I think about plugging it in and extending the power cords to their length, allowing me to lie in the backyard some more. I take a peak through the front window and am overjoyed to see an even more gorgeous sight going on out there.
I want to make the most of this fading day, so I smoke some hash, grab my real iPod (again, boring), and go out into the front porch. I feel a bit exposed out there, sitting on the steps. The cars and powerlines and houses are blocking the view. And anyway, as I learned from years of growing up right along the Pacific, the best place to watch an October sunset is down at the ocean.
I hem and haw for a bit. I feel okay to drive, but I still probably shouldn't. I don't like leaving the house this late, either. Or really ever, unless necessary. But this is beginning to feel like it's necessary. The Verve song I'm listening to is urging me to go ('You can do anything you want to/All you've gotta do is try'). So I grab my keys, slip on my slip-ons, stuff my wallet in my pocket, and get in the car.
[Erowid Note: Erowid does not condone the act of driving under the influence of any substance.]
Again, not recommended. I am feeling up to driving, clear-headed and attentive. Justification, excuses.
I'm thinking of heading for the Manhattan Beach Pier, but once I get to that park on 27th Street, I know I've found my place. Plus - free parking! The park stretches from Highland all the way down to the beach, giving a wide, unblocked view. And what a view it is! Stormy grey skies, patches of golden light, a slice of pink glowing on the horizon. The ships in the bay have turned their lights on, gold shimmer standing out against the grey waters.
The more I relax into it, the more beautiful it all becomes. Everything softly undulates, and I skip through the iPod until I hear long-loved songs. The skies change color, the whole scene gets darker. The stone bench becomes too uncomfortable, and I sit in the grass instead. I have no deep thoughts, no amazing insights, but I feel so calm and appreciative of being alive to experience this day.
An hour later, and the light's almost completely gone when Sigur Ros comes on. I started this with them, and I'll end it with them.
I get home after seven. It's completely dark. I finish the bowl I'd left, sprinkling some rue on top to see if smoking it would bring back any effects. I reflect on the day.
At nine, I note that the mountain ranges on my map of Middle Earth banner are still sliding about. Don't think I've had psilocybin last eight hours before, especially not such a small amount. Syrian rue must be an extender as well as a potentiater.
I fall asleep to 'Punch Drunk Love' around 9:30 PM and sleep fine.
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