I felt beloved

October 28, 2015

I share this in Love and service in the spirit of learning and wisdom…

First, I’d do it again. Second, I’ve done meditation for years. Recently, I’ve been doing the deity mandala from the tibetan book of the dead, I’m talking deep work with wrathful and peaceful deities, dakini, ganesha, with a shamanic approach and attitude. I’m only mentioning this because I’m trying to give one reading this a frame for this word painting. 🙂

What happened for me was this (slowed down and played back): imagine standing in a puddle. The puddle begins to rise about the feet, then turns into a velvet deep blue gunny sack, with a drawstring. Just like a gunnysack, the material is crimped around the “neck”. As it rises, one sees the nature, the texture of the crimping: miniature waving vortices, appearing as violet red and white flames.

I was not prepared for the sensation of heat. When I came out, my forehead was damp. To be frank, it was a point of resistance for me. I feel the plant was telling me it would prefer to be chewed, for what it’s worth.

The gunnysack (if gunnysacks had gullets and were sentient) came up, and over, from behind. The thought went by, “Someone’s pulling the wool over my eyes.” Could it be that’s what I’ve been doing to myself my whole life?

As it came up and over, the sense of heat increased. There was a smell too, not of burning, but of ozone more likely. The cowl came up over my crown chakra, and picked up speed and, “gravity” is the best way I can describe it. As it did, 3d reality swirled into the little vortices in the mouth of the gunnysack. I felt like my hair (mental energy) was being sucked into the sack. I noticed some interesting characters with their faces pressed up against the glass, but since I had firmly established my intention of why I was doing this in the first place, that kept me in the flow.

I say flow, because the gunnysack had turned into a conduit filled with what felt like a combination of being in a log flume ride drop and what i’d imagine a street luge would feel like. I imagine physically this was brought about by, essentially, “nodding out”. However, the dosage was just low enough that I focused my attention on the muscle tension. This kept me from nodding out completely. I briefly noticed the tension, and it’s effect on the process of immersion (because that’s what it felt like, a dropping down into, from one medium, to another, as the witness), and how my conscious observing attention created resistance and “stretched” the lip of the gunnysack.

As 3d vaporized in the plenary fire, I heard a voice. It was a voice on a bright summer morning. I was 17 years old (I’m 49 currently). In a language I didn’t know but understood energetically, in another part of my brain that has nothing to do with processing language, Granny was calling me to hurry up and eat breakfast and get to work. Everybody else was out in the fields, working, and I was a layabout. It was said with rough affection; I was beloved.

I felt beloved.

But I still didn’t want to go to work. 😉

I got up and went into the kitchen to eat. As I stood up, body consciousness stepped in and the swirling lip of the gunnysack peeled back to reveal my 3d kitchen as the multiverse peeled back, repeating to myself out loud, “softly, softly”. The whole thing lasted about a minute and a half.

To anyone reasearching their first trip, a couple of things. One: have an intention. Don’t do this kind of work without taking responsibility for what shows up. Ground. Surround yourself with things that feel good for at least an hour prior to ingestion. If there’s any interruption or irritation prior to the event, my advice is delay the event. Don’t be an EEDIOT like me: have a spotter. I could have woken up the wife and scared her to death. Not smart. r-e-s-p-e-c-t, oneself and the plant. Speak the intention aloud to the plant. It has Consciousness. It wants to assist.

My intuition tells me that I experience being pulled into the multiverse, through a node and into another earth dimension. I was a male, but a different race, perhaps a different hemisphere (seasons reversed?), a different language and culture, a different family, but still the same “I”. I was hitting the ground running; I knew exactly what I was doing that morning on the family farm, and it was a fair day, and I had a hot date tonight. 😀

Happy trails!

by True