Vidya Moksha Tue Feb 12, 2019 1:25 pm
I did write some notes about my DMT experience, I hope to publish a full account later this year.. Here's my current draft..
I was in Australia, helping on a small farmstead. My host was an unpleasant hoarder, who was permanently stoned. She ran out of grass to smoke and her dealer was going away, so she was going to drive to his place for a score. I went with her. These are remote, unpopulated areas and there is a lot of space here.
When we arrived at her dealer’s property he was working in a mini-digger, laying drainage pipes. He told me he was leaving Australia the next day, he had rented the house but needed to do some work before the new tenant moved in. Would I help him? Of course, why not. We dug and laid pipes, he in the digger and me working outside, alongside him, laying the pipe.
This guy was a real junkie, I have no idea what he was putting in his arm but he was full-on. He was working hard and well, whatever he was on, he had energy. We were chatting and he was asking me about my time in Peru. I told him of my ayahausca experiences and said that one day I would like to take DMT as per Strassman’s experiments (as described by Graham Hancock).
My host had scored her bag of grass and it was time to go. As we were leaving he came over to me, “Thank you for today,” he said, “There are ten hits here.” He handed me a small plastic bag with some crystalline substance in it. He told me it was DMT, from his wide ranging drug collection. “Wow! Thanks.” He told me it was made from an Acacia tree (the bark?).
I later had the time, space and peace to take the DMT. I smoked one dose of DMT in a pipe. The ‘hit’ was instantaneous and quite unpleasant. There was a ‘rush’ of noise and sounds, I struggle to describe them but they weren’t nice, more like intense screeches. My vision changed immediately. I was looking out of a honeycomb pattern, my vision broken up into many smaller segments (as I imagine a honeycomb bee/ fly eye). Each of these individual honeycombs showed the average colour of whatever elements were in that honeycomb cell. I guess you could say it was like a mural of what I would normally see. It was quite colourful. I couldn’t enjoy the colours as I couldn’t breathe. I was unable to take an in-breath, despite wanting to. I was running out of air and I couldn’t inhale. When I did finally did manage an intake of breath I ‘settled down’ to an intense, highly hallucinogenic trip of weird sounds and colourful visions. Shapes and objects were fluid and intertwined with other colourful ‘energy’ patterns.
The experience lasted about ten minutes and I was back to normal with no side effects. Short, intense and not pleasant. I wouldn’t do this for fun, but I wasn’t on a hedonistic trip, I wanted to learn more about spirit world and DMT.
I have found with most ‘drugs’ that the first time I took them there was little effect. I wonder if the first time a drug is taken it develops pathways in the body, creating the channels, so to speak, for the next time. It was worth trying a second pipe with one dose of DMT and my reactions and perceptions were identical to the first time.
Strassman’s experiments were under controlled concentrations with laboratory chemicals, not the bark of an Acacia tree, was I wasting my time? Most of the accounts I had read suggested high doses of DMT should be taken, so I would take the remaining ‘eight’ (as I was told) hits at one time. The problem was delivery, I couldn’t smoke that much in a pipe, I would be unable to take enough breath before the DMT hit, when my inhalation mechanism stopped. I wasn’t going to inject anything into my bloodstream, I never have.
The only delivery mechanism I could think of was to cut the bottom off a 5L water bottle and place it in a bucket of water. I put tin foil on the mouth of the bottle, pierced it with a needle and placed the DMT on it. I lit the DMT as I slowly raised the bottle out of the water, filling the bottle with the DMT smoke. Sh1t! The plastic was burning, such was the heat, and I was also drawing black plastic smoke in there, nice one!
The bottle was full of DMT smoke and if I held the bottle steady it couldn’t escape (the base was still in the water). I steadied myself and psyched myself up. I had to empty my lungs, place my mouth over the bottle mouth and push the bottle back down through the water and the DMT smoke would empty from the bottle into my lungs. As Sun Tzu reminds us, ‘No plan survives contact with the enemy,’ and my plan almost worked, except I had only emptied about 80% of the bottle when I lost consciousness.
I have no idea how long I was unconscious. When I regained awareness I could hear bird song and I realised I was dead. I was in total blackness but I could hear the bird song (which was real, not my imagination). There was an entity (me) who knew ‘I’ had died, but 'vidya' was gone. I knew I was dead and I knew it was perfectly alright to be dead, there was no sense of fear or loss, nothing, everything was perfectly alright; I had just died. I realised I couldn’t tell folk I was dead, but that was fine also. I then lost consciousness again.
The heat woke me. There was full sun on my face. I opened my eyes. I was ‘tripping my nuts off’ to use the colloquial. I somehow managed to reach the house and I half staggered and half fell up the stairs onto the kitchen floor, where I lost consciousness again. I regained awareness again (in the black void), but 'I' had died again, there was no ‘me’ connection.
I didn’t lose consciousness again and slowly I regained self awareness. I hadn’t died, but I had f@cked myself! There was energy streaming from my arms and finger tips, multi coloured intertwining rivers of flowing energy. How could I live in the world with these perceptions? What had I done to myself? I was permanently damaged, I had Xxxxxx myself. This mixture of wonder and dread lasted about half an hour? The effects completely wore off after 40 minutes. I was perfectly okay, I hadn’t damaged myself in that sense.
I had died! I experienced the death process, or a part of it. This is exactly the division of ego that yoga describes. The I-am ego is called ahem and the I-want ego is asmita, this better translating as egotism. You lose all egotism when you die just as you lose all egotism when you reach advaita. But the observer remains - the I-am ego.
I wasn’t scared when I had died, but I was scared now! I had fear again, the first time since my satori experience. I was scared of not being on this earth anymore, scared of missing the beauty, scared I had missed my chance. That was a strange and unexpected reaction. I wasn’t scared of death, I was scared of not experiencing this planet. I had never considered this notion previously; it surprised me then as it still does now.
I was fine; no side effects other than this sense of fear, which I couldn’t shake. The whole event took a long time to process and digest. At the time I was quite sure I would never want to repeat the experience. I am not interested in taking any DMT into my lungs again. I would be interested in Strassman –like experiment, but that would only be in a controlled environment with the right chemicals and procedure.
I want to go there but without DMT really. 
