Yesterday, I spent rummaging through old emails and journal entries. This piece didn't fit either of those, but it was through the process of revisiting those emails and journal entries that I rediscovered an older piece of writing. After some redevelopment and reworking, this is the rough framework for a narrative chapter in "Glass Mountain Spirit".
I'm going on with trying to put into words, well… sometimes it intrigues me. The first thing that comes into my head is my infatuation with keeping a relationship going... two people who are together, we do everything that we can think of... working through problems to their resolutions.
I have long been hopelessly dedicated to that cause. It's been my firm belief that there is always a new way, one more thing... never stop working. Relationships can always be improved. Sure, I had my 20's... years of aimlessly wandering within the confines of random nights, of lost and found souls with similar, brilliantly dark interests.
Still... most of us shared in the notion of a common brotherhood. Pride, no matter how untrue it may be in practice, gave me a sense of accomplishment and of being wanted. It's a very dangerous thing, this pride. Wars are started because of pride. In the end, there's you holding a rainbow flag in the bitter, freezing breeze. Your beauty has faded, and the train has left you on the platform: forsaken, forlorn, and finally... forgotten.
I remember the Asian man who told me that he'd been in a relationship with his partner for 11 years, until his partner passed on. Even still, when the two of us were done for the night... he had the uncanny sense to tell me that I shouldn't have sex with every guy who takes an interest in me, and is nice to me.
Sort of like he was nice to me, and took an interest in the backpack that I carried around everywhere that I wandered. It was my security blanket in a way, filled with notebooks of drawings, poetry, prose, and journal entries… and out the door it and I went.
In a matter of a few hours, my supposed new brother in arms had lost all interest in me. So in the regretted end, my tried and true brother wanderlust picked me up and dusted me off. Then he said, full of confidence: "whatever happens will be. Here, I want to show you something."
This is a big deal.
I can't talk anyone into or away from experimentation with psychedelic substances. If you've given this a great deal of thought, and still feel that you absolutely need to try walking down that path, please heed these rules.
Stick to the natural kind .To put a fine point on it, because of our flawed nature, man-made psychedelics are imperfect, have more negative side-effects, and do more damage to our body and mind.
I say this with nearly 100% certainty... 3 reasons: I am a flawed human being; nothing is statistically absolute; and for the undeniable truth that no two people have exactly the same sort of experience. To put this another way, our individuality is the keystone. That is the crux of the matter at hand.
Finally, your experience will affect you immensely, will affect your perception of the nature of consciousness, for the rest of your existence. I highly recommend that you do this with a close friend whom has experience with natural psychedelics. That way, he or she can guide you through the experience. Next, seek out that good friend afterward. Talk through what happened during your journey. Recount everything with as great of detail as you can. Then have he or she recount their journey. Finally, compare the two journeys in as much depth as is humanly possible.
That is all that I can say, other than do some of your own research before the journey. That is imperative, so that you don't go into the experience blindly, with your mind completely overwhelmed from being unprepared. Treat it with a great amount of humility; it deserves your full attention and your upmost respect. Such is its nature.