profitism

well that one was all about resistance then wasnt it. and everything was all sorts of weird after that, like i'd returned to a reality where the me there was some kind of monster. not here again. it started off the night before i guess, the last Friday night of August. it seemed the only opportunity i had to make up some numbers at work before month end. so, at 2am instead of calling it a night, i stayed behind, and worked through to about 8, when bleary eyed co-workers began to arrive to start their shift.

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although i understood where things fit in with our 2 new indian friends from the office i did still feel a bit done in. N, the spitting image of Z's dead brother had been all rah-rah about taking droogs but when confronted with the red and blue pills he opted out. the 'cid i'd taken had been saved for a good few months waiting for the right occasion. i was determined to have my first experience with dmt while under the influence of it on top of table mountain. now under the influence of it i was getting mixed signals about where these guys stood on the subject so on the way up there with them the mission was aborted.

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Guess it was a bold intention to start off with. Weird what mixed signals you can get from people. The idea was that when I eventually had gathered up enough courage to try smoking dmt it would be in the midst of an acid trip. One day, the stage was set. Everything seemed to be pointing at now being the right moment except, I would be alone. And of course, looking back, it would have been perfect if I had kept it that way. Somewhere in the background there was a thing though. To hike up alone into the mountain tripping on acid. Perhaps. And then to have a dmt chaser somewhere up there.

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so how can you tell. so that is where like the faith thing comes in [youre telling me it was there all along..?]. when is it proof of something special going on... when are you just kidding yourself. maybe. i guess there will always be stories that fall a few words short of being absolutely convincing. i guess reading will always fall short of experiencing. the second hobo i met didn't quite live up to the mystique as much as the first one did [of what he could say that would change my world; 'nothings real', now make a note of that, because, it did]. in many ways his story took second place, in fact, it was easy to imagine there was no actual story to tell about him. of course there was mention of him anyway, he was called the false prophet at some previous point. john i think it was, the first slice of random coincidence. the words he wanted to put out there, because that is what i asked him; were...

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before i decided to dabble with 'psychic self-defence' i had started ouspenskies 'fourth way'. it was an eye opener. i was reading stuff that up to this point felt like deeply ingrained convictions, gleaned from a long time's worth of personal experience and not from anything read out a book. sure there were things i read in some stuff that resonated slightly with these convictions but nothing that matched what i felt down to a 'T'. it almost felt like my search was over, this guy, what he wrote, his ideas on a particular subject, how he wrote it, how he felt about writing it... this could have been me. there was even some kind of strangely synchronistic pattern concerning the nature of some of my personal relationships to the relationship he had with his teacher. prior to this i had skimmed at some point through some of rawn clarks stuff covering franz bardon. there was an initial exercise involving making a list of stuff about yourself that felt a bit off with me. reading 'fourth way' now it seemed a more systematic approach was possible that could help to achieve the same thing.

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and so there was a lot of work to do. i would have liked to have finished a book and tell you what i read, and tell you i found it useful and what it told me to do and what i then did... and what the results were as well but. so many books that were opened and then sort of discarded, on to the next one to try find something. maybe i'd know it when i saw it, and finish what i started. and... they not really books, really... its a weird thing how many of them there are, on this kind of subject material, which is... difficult subject material... it's going to be a long while anyway, and to keep my mouth shut right to the end of it all is going to be a tall order. besides, if i write about what i'm reading, and if i can get my backside into gear and start doing something as well then... well, at least if i keep a journal it might help me remember, stuff. so this is an outset, The New One [again]. at least here you can see what it was like from the beginning. here are the things i am reading;;; the tree of life;;; psychic self-defense;;; the fourth way;;; isis unveiled;;; An Outline of Occult Science.

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may already... weeks have passed, seemingly. a development on the interest in drugs, an anti-development. what preoccupied my last efforts in this interest are abandoned projects, the (implements) scattered and gathering dust. left with no desire at all to dabble with any potential implications involving altered states of consciousness. in a way i feel relief at not having any obligations, on the other hand there's a thing about energy wasted. somewhere in the middle there's a middle. it's always been there, even as a part of the drug thing actually; a subtle awareness needing to compliment it with something 'spiritual', almost to the degree of not being able to expect any 'spiritual benefits' from having an interest in drugs unless i did.

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okay well... another new beginning... might be an idea by now to stop making it clear that any current venture will only ever have to do with trying to understand the subtle dynamics involved in what manifested as maybe about the last two years of physical reality, it was that stupefying. it seems any other type of preoccupation is effectively sterile until that has been drawn out and satisfactorily resolved. lucky for us there are many interesting perspectives to pursue during this adventure.

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Rough month… very rough month. So much going on, but like the B says, would take a year off work to write about all of it. So where to start? Well, I guess the end is as good a start as any.

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"mushrooms made me do it."

post #6154;;;
so about a year ago we upped and left JHB no matter what the implications were. at the time it was like this is no way to live... being cooped up like a bird in a cage in an office... the crime... the pollution...
maybe that by itself would have been bearable...
but there was also the mushrooms...
there's so much more to life 'they said'... it's so full of magic and mystery... of angels and demons... another completely new world awaits...

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Full Stop.
That would be the full stop at the end of the last word; the last word at the end of the last sentence; the last sentence at the end of the last paragraph; the last paragraph at the end of what feels at this point like is a long, long story. The idea is to work backwards from there, maybe it will make thing a little easier to remember. It’s about twelve on Sunday, we are pulling out from the venue, up a dusty dirt track that winds through an apple orchard. Spent. It’s been an awesome overnight outdoor party, tucked away in the hills somewhere close enough to Stellenbosch in the Western Cape.

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I got chatting to an old friend about a recent ordeal. At that point things were still quite bleak, and we had not got a buyer for our property yet - that happened the very next day oddly enough. We went into what death is in quite some depth, covered a lot of ground and I wish I could remember half of what got said. As it is the tolerance threshold for alcohol is quite low and so any attempt at complete and accurate recollection can only ever be just yet another ambitious project, destined for a premature termination.

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So after about a year of arriving in Cape Town we get to a point where it seems we can’t survive financially outside of an office. We had been working on other ways of making money, but it might be time to concede defeat. Along with the concession a dawning ominous realization that the money we did have was only good for monthly expenses over about the next four months. Getting an office job to help pay the bills does not feel like a quick and easy solution either in the current economic climate, and then there is the whole employment equity thing going on as well.

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integrating The Experience...

anyone think it can take you over the edge a bit sometimes... something about an introduction to something so different to 'normal' that 'normal' just seems so messed up afterwards... specifically an acute awareness of how stupid everything is... everything that people involve themselves in that constitutes our everyday waking reality... that there is very little that people do, that is REALLY worthwhile. can it seem like of all the options and guidance available to you, all of it is rotten to the core, riddled with lies and deceit.

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Cohesion. There was a nifty definition. “Physics The intermolecular attraction by which the elements of a body are held together”. No, no, more to do with a description. Or something. Was it important, having to do with reality at all. Is it what the body does; something it does very well, it makes sense of nonsense. Is everything nonsense. Are you just the eye in a cyclone, something around which molecules can structure themselves like so much debris…

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I guess a continuation… smoking powdered Amanita with plain leaf Salvia, and it’s impact on dreaming. Too early I guess to proclaim being over the moon with results at this stage, but as much as I can be allowed to feel it, that’s how I feel. A tentative validation is in receiving the same response from B. Having smoked the blend about five times now over two or three weeks, there have been a few remarkable dreams, and a generally improved ability at dream recollection. Dreams seem to be having a different kind of atmosphere as well, weirder, but not off the wall weird.

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Feels like forever since I’ve had any significant success at dream recollection. In what can best be described as something that blew up in my face, using Salvia x10 extract whilst goofed seemed to result in the exact opposite of what was sought, leaving me high and dry instead of with a dreamlife that was renewed and reinvigorated. At that point I had managed to establish frequent recollection of lackluster dreams that were missing the so-called “x factor”.

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Well. In case anyone missed it; we came across Amanita Muscaria (Fly Agaric) growing in Cape Town. The following for those not in the know; “I do, however, consider it now beyond doubt that A. muscaria was used sacramentally in India and also that this mushroom was known as soma.”. And; “Much of the Rig Veda (and all of the Sama Veda) is concerned with the ritual consumption of a psychoactive drug called soma.”. And again; “The most ancient texts of the Hindu religion are the four books known as the Vedas and among these the collection of hymns known as the Rig Veda is said to be the earliest.”. (All that from takeourword.com).

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Weird what length is gone to. To make one feel comfortable. For all the effort tonight I’m left with just one thing; a very bad taste. I think maybe a bit too much garlic in my lentil curry. Or was it that after such an impeccable presentation, the house of cards so delicately constructed, was quite spectacularly blown asunder. Because my actions contradict what I’ve been saying, what I’ve been saying is just a load of crap.

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One more bright idea to keep ourselves out the office. Set up a stall that sells stuff. Books. Jewelry. Etc. Today was the first one of that. Considering the subject material involved; shamanism, entheogens, 2012… we should attract an interesting crowd. Well, it’s just practice for now; we take it to the trance parties when summer returns. So anyway, it’s the first day, and it came with all those mixed feelings like when you pitched up at a new school.

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