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Ketamine Journaling

Discussion in 'Wild Card Forum' started by willm308, Aug 2, 2018.

  1. willm308

    willm308 Member

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    7/31/2018 – Tuesday

    Tomorrow I go to this clinic in Salt Lake City to begin ketamine treatment for PTSD. I’ve been using cannabis to keep it from flaring up, and things are better than they’ve ever been (and so much better than my nadir in January 2014) but I don’t just want to minimize the symptoms. So here we go.

    8/1/2018 - Wednesday

    Session 1 is in the can. Dr H seems pretty knowledgeable and started me off on a series of intramuscular injections. He started me out on 25 widgets (I don’t remember if he said cc’s or mg’s but will pay closer attention on Friday) and set a timer for 30 minutes. I felt the first takeoff within a few minutes and had a really pleasant half hour – sort of like a super mellow molly high, very much in the body as opposed to how your brain takes flight.

    After that 1st injection had more or less run its course the good doc loaded me up with 50 widgets, adding (a little ominously) “We just doubled your dose.”

    Again, the drug took hold within a few minutes. I remember being relaxed and focused, followed by a sense of “pulling inward” (which I assume is what people refer to as a K-hole).

    Okay, first of all – how the fuck did this ever take off as a party drug? I cannot for the life of me understand how anyone uses this for fun and I fucking love drugs. Then again, I’m new to this one.

    But that didn’t stop me from meeting Ketamine – an interdimensional hyperintelligent entity who will interface with you, but only because the software is compatible. Ketamine regards you about as fondly as you regard someone you run into online occasionally while campaigning in some MMORPG (admittedly, I know somewhere between Jack and shit about video games but I feel like this analogy holds). That’s the level of attraction or harmonious vibrational output or whatever you want to call it between Ketamine and the human intellect.

    Ketamine started out looking like a planetoid sized beige octopus made out of egg cartons, cubicle walls, and those recessed cork tile ceilings, with eyes in the tentacles that shone fluorescently. Upon encountering Ketamine, Will Millar’s K-hole turned into a cocoon, except there was nothing inside the chrysalis. Will Millar became the cocoon; became a ball of webbing that unraveled and spun apart into an infinitude of strands. These strands danced with the God Octopus Ketamine. That’s how we interfaced, I guess.

    Space dancing.

    I became aware of somebody trying to reach Will Millar again. Oddly, this sensation could best be described as a single note that I heard, plucked on the strands that I had become, over and over.

    Whoever wrote the script for Interstellar has probably done a fair amount of ketamine.

    Long story short, I was hyperventilating. And the person was a nurse, who was trying to get me to breathe normally. I became aware of a plastic bag that I was supposed to breathe into. I was batting it away, while Dr H and the nurse were very calmly walking Will Millar back out of the K-hole.

    At some point I held the bag to my face (this was roughly about the same point “I” and “me” were coming back into focus). Immediately I began to feel worse and dropped the bag so that I could get up and walk around, which I did without falling down or anything, no doubt to the relief of everyone in the room. I went to the bathroom and took a leak, and by the time I was finished, something more or less approximating Will Millar was approximately more or less at the proverbial wheel.

    When I saw Dr H, he was the one to tell me I had been hyperventilating, and to try to avoid that in the future. I asked him if it was possible that I was doing ujjayi breathing, as it’s something I do during peak experiences sometimes. I don’t mean to, it’s more of a muscle memory thing as I’ve been practicing the Ashtanga method for a number of years. I demonstrated what I meant and he said it was possible, but basically that I should make more of a conscious effort to breathe normally in the future.

    This all happened a few hours ago now. I’ve had a nap and some food and cannabis since then – not quite in that order. It’s hard to believe that this all happened in about two and a half hours; having my brain essentially scooped out, examined (washed perhaps; banished?) and stuffed back into my skull. Weirder still, I’m going back under on Friday.

    The protocol is for 6 sessions total, spaced out over 12 days. So, I’ll have more info after the next session, and if you guys have any questions I’ll try to answer them as best I can.

    One other thing – since I can post this sort of stuff here and nowhere else without people really starting to wonder about me. I work with a Smith deck (not sure if that’s how you spell Ms Smith’s name but you know what I’m talking about), and my go-to is the Right Hand of Eris. This morning’s layout was –

    1. 3 of Wands

    2. Ace of Cups

    3. 7 of Swords

    4. The Tower

    5. 2 of Wands

    I’m not normally prone to precog, but I predicted drawing 3 out of 5 of those cards (these being the 1st, 3rd, and 5th cards drawn). Not saying I’m ready to join Professor X’s school for the middle-aged, just saying it was interesting. Anyway that’s it until Friday. Bugs and fishes, y’all.
     
  2. genxgemini

    genxgemini Active Member

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    *using a distant
    Football Stadium voice


    Medically administered K-holes,eh?!?
    No kidding,man. Have a few party stories about this one,but how bizarre it seems to be used in a clinical environment.
    [​IMG]
    This is super interesting!!! Thank you for posting. I hope you continue to keep us posted.

    *passes the bong in ur direction


    Have you danced
    with Sister Salvia D?

    Probably not for PSTD therapy but for interdimensional communication.​
     
    #2 genxgemini, Aug 2, 2018
    Last edited: Aug 2, 2018
  3. genxgemini

    genxgemini Active Member

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    DRUG
    [​IMG]
    TONIGHT'S CHAPTER: [​IMG]

    One Alabama-humid night during my sophomore year in college, one of my buddies called to invite me & my dormmate over for an impromptu party.
    [​IMG]


    We arrived half & hour later at a townhouse full of Sublime music & partying college students.

    Leaving my mate behind in the crowd, I make a fast BeeLine right up the stairs to join the REAL party, already in progress.

    The circle on the left had the first open tooter & I parked my nostrils immediately in it-to do,what I presumed was, a lil' yay-yo.

    *snooooorrrrrtttt*
    [​IMG]
    1 line,2 line ,3 line....oh no...wait a minute...that doesn't feel like any snow I've ever done....ooooh,wow..(((((reality wobble))))))

    5 minutes later I meander down the stairs,floating like a cherub, to join a huge pile of other folks
    in a K hole on the sofa.
    [​IMG]
    Feeling like a marionette, I climb atop the human bodies and join the ongoing conversation.

    HEEEELLLLOOOO?!
    HEEEEELLLLLO?

    CAN you hear me?
    Why do you seem so far awwwaaayyyy?!?...
    [​IMG]
    Descending this mountain top took about 55 minutes,afterwhich basecamp was setup in the overstuffed loveseat in front of the television.

    The Saint with Val Kilmer was playing,as my focus merged with the dancing pixels on the screen.
    [​IMG]

    [​IMG]
    [​IMG]
    Nonchalantly, the screen, Val Kilmer's head & the dialogue split into three whole-but-seperate parts & I stared blank-ly into this bizarro trifecta until a sudden bag of Doritos came crashing into the side of my head.

    "Hey Punk, Wanna go to the Caf?", my roommate queried as he coalesced out of the mob.

    " Mmmm, sure. Let's go,but you drive", I muttered.

    [​IMG]
    10 minutes later,
    we arrived & quickly found a parking spot.

    As soon as my left foot touched the pavement, the K Hole disappeared without a single come-down.

    >Poof! Sobriety. Just like that.<

    I've never done any drug that
    did that quite in that fashion.


    Any other Ketamine
    experiences out there
    in T.H.C. Land?​
     
    #3 genxgemini, Aug 2, 2018
    Last edited: Aug 2, 2018
  4. nickzeptepi

    nickzeptepi Active Member

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    Try dancing to loud music in the k hole - your ear drums are relaxed and music sounds generic but different and it floats your body on the sound wave, sort of keeping you standing up, if you didn't and you sat your body would slip into the k hole and you loose motor control of your limbs.

    you mind dissociates but where does it go? maybe into the archetypal world, or into the planetary music of the spheres, or into the collective consciousness of dolphins and whales. I felt i went to all 3 at some point.

    Can you get up and walk around - have music in the background?
     
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  5. willm308

    willm308 Member

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    Thanks Nick - I'm definitely going to use music. They're not cool with walking around but earphones are a-okay (to be fair, the amount they shoot into you with is probably too much to walk around on for most people).

    So, I'll dance while on the official medical bean-bag chair. I think I can manage that, The whole trying to just "sit still with one's breath" was super intense (especially inside an office), and probably what got my breath all in an uproar. I've got some music downloaded for tomorrow.

    Mystery party bumps are the best bumps, Gen-X. It is really funny how you just snap right out of that stuff, though. Other than a little spaciness and some soreness at the injection site I felt good enough to work a full day today.

    You guys have a good night, I'll update this tomorrow.
     
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  6. willm308

    willm308 Member

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    8/3/18 (Friday)


    “This is hell.” A tall veteran mumbles as he fights to get up. One of his headphones has come loose and I can hear that heavy metal remake of The Sound of Silence floating tinnily out of the earbud.

    I feel ya, buddy. Can’t say we share the same taste in music, but we are simpatico. The veteran has gotten all the way up and is standing in a corner. His wife holds him steady by the elbow. There’s a nurse standing about three feet away. With that distraction out of the way I turn my attention back to the timer in front of me. The timer is a very big deal around here.

    For this second go-around I had three injections. The first two were administered into my right shoulder, the third into my left.

    First of all I have to thank you guys for the suggestion to bring music along. This was an absolute game-changer in terms of reducing the overall stress, at least with the first two shots. The third one kicked my ass up and down the block several times over, but I’ll get into that one in a minute.

    So, we did x and y mgs again, and then capped it off with z. Z seems to be a threshold amount for me.

    “Is this the abyss, this is the abyss, right? It’s got to be the abyss. Well, it’s an abyss anyway." The abyss being language, and beyond language, our capacity for association. Saturn is the mother of form, our mother in terms of our human power to name things. Saturn is beige – all shades of beige, streaked through with purple cobalt lightning bolts that stretch thousands of miles. They sound like nuclear bombs when they go off.

    Our sphere is Earth, that’s where we live and fuck and pay bills but we are connected to levels of consciousness on different spheres as well. On the sphere of Saturn there are far fewer souls. They all behave like proper desert wizards. They move slowly like trees but live for millions of years in their version of time. We honor the mother Saturn by decorating our offices and low income housing in differing shades of beige. Beige curtains festoon hospices. Beige cinderblock walls greet every new inmate to our private prisons.

    We may act like we have forgotten the old ways…

    The gate to the abyss is guarded by the demon CHRNZN and he is an absolute motherfucker. This is language itself – when the first few primates experienced a basic understanding of language they must have bashed their brains out with rocks to try and get rid of it. We are beings compelled by multigenerational language algorithms that span thousands of years.

    If the Dalai Lama feels like this all the time I feel really sorry for that guy.

    The timer is a very big fucking deal.

    Except when you’re really out there, well you guys know what happens to time, right? So, we can just step out of time whenever we want. All you have to do is get your brains scrubbed out by a shaman residing in the back of a freaking office complex. This world is fucking crazy.

    “You’re a good man, Dr H.” I tell him, as the timer begins to move again. De La Soul’s Spitkicker.com fades into Livin’ Astro by Kool Keith. I spent some time on this playlist yesterday and it has helped immensely. Dr H smiles and claps me on the shoulder and moves to the patient on my right.

    And just like that, time and effort mean something again. I think maybe it’s the loss of meaning that I’m struggling with at those limits. To experience limitless consciousness is to shed the idea of everything, both good and bad. So you get unfettered of your bullshit, but you also forget the actual meaning of concepts like "family bonds" and "working towards a goal".

    There are points beyond words, and I guess that’s what I’m running into here. There’s a reason I waited to post this. I wanted to see if I could clarify this any further after a solid night’s sleep but this is about as good as I can manage for the moment.

    Thanks everyone who has reached out so far. Session 3 of 6 is tomorrow. I’ll keep you updated.
     
  7. genxgemini

    genxgemini Active Member

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    Wow! It almost feels like we're right next to you during these sessions.

    You are a great writer!

    Again, this experience is
    SUPER INTERESTING!


    THANK YOU! Looking forward to hearing how these sessions wrap up.

    Question: Have your dreams been influenced by the injections?

    Question: Will you pull some cards again in this state,if possible?

    Question: Can you describe CHRNZN
    in any further detail?

    Question: How do you feel the progress is going so far? Are you feeling more relaxed?

     
    #7 genxgemini, Aug 4, 2018
    Last edited: Aug 5, 2018
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  8. genxgemini

    genxgemini Active Member

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    "WE are being compelled by multigenerational language algorithms that span thousands of years..."


    Aahh,Brother, you are in Blazing Awareness Mode right now!!!! I'm covered in goosebumps reading this.
     
    #8 genxgemini, Aug 4, 2018
    Last edited: Aug 4, 2018
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  9. willm308

    willm308 Member

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    Hey, I'm really grateful that this stuff is connecting. For what it's worth, writing about it afterwards and being able to talk/chat/text/whatever with understanding people is making this much easier, so thanks.

    In order

    1. I don't remember my dreams much unless I really try to beforehand. I use a lot of cannabis and it tends to blunt my capacity for dream recall. Like I said, I can do some meditation/intention exercises before going to bed, and can access my dreams a little, but according to P.D. Ouspensky (who I consider my primary spiritual mentor at this stage in my life) this can overtax one's system even under the best of circumstances. So I'll let dream-Will do his thing, and if he's got something important to say he'll let me know.


    2. I drew the cards and forgot about them, but was 0 for 5

    The layout read:

    1 - Page of Swords
    2 - The Emperor
    3 - Ace of Cups
    4 - King of Pentacles
    5 - Ace of Swords

    I predicted (in no real order) - 10 of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, The Lovers, Death, and 10 of Wands. Also, I should mention that I draw the morning of, hours before the actual treatments. I don't know if I'd have the motor skills to draw while under. Besides, sometimes even groovy people get the wrong idea when they see you pull out a tarot deck, and I wouldn't want to upset anyone at the treatment center.

    I'll post about the draws - I wasn't sure if that info was screwing up the signal to noise ratio about the ketamine stuff but if it's interesting I'll add it to the post.

    3. As for CHRNZN, a.k.a. CH0R0NZ0N or maybe Choronzon but it certainly felt like he preferred the all-caps locked in - I'm not sure what to say. I was dealing with ideas of form, language, and significance - and how these intertwined. It felt like I was between this sphere and the Saturnian sphere. Here the Feminine might be considered Isis and the Masculine Pan. In this other, the Feminine was this mother-force that might have been Binah or Saturn or something else I didn't catch a name for, but the male force was the big C. Literally a motherfucker - mean as shit and not impressed by talking monkeys. Whatever the force is that kills the ego before making the leap; perhaps across Daath, perhaps not. Again this is the place where language breaks, and the end of language is also the end of self. C is what waited to destroy my self, and seemed to delight in the task. And it - he is not something physical, but that doesn't make it any less... real? This is about the best I can do on that score.

    4. I'm very relaxed most of the time, but there are points where reality feels kind of brittle. Staying active seems to help, I spent most of today outside running errands and stuff, did a light workout but nothing too intense. I think if I sat around all day I might have gotten a little squirrelly. I think it might be months before I really even understand what this is all about.

    As for those algorithms, yeah... I wish there was some way around that stuff but I haven't seen it yet. I think if we're just constantly cool with each other and our neighbors there's only so much they can do, though.

    I hope everyone has a happy Saturday.
     
  10. nickzeptepi

    nickzeptepi Active Member

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    Thanks, and awesome. some of the stuff is resonating for me. I'm sold on Saturn being the primordial Sun in a ancient past - which will be a life giving mother archetype.

    Not sure why the black & Black cube come from as a Saturn symbol, the beige seems plausible

    The planet spheres and ages etc fits in with Theosophy and the rays - (I'm just learning about that stuff - although it seems to be ringing a ancestral bell) - I guess your aware of Theosophy etc and I wonder if it helped cut through the firewalls that would catch so many of the "normies" ?

    found this on a quick search:-
    The Mass of Choronzon, by Pete Carroll

    An Invocation of the personal ego or false Holy Guardian Angel, for
    the purpose of casting ones entire will as an Enchantment upon
    reality.
    More herehttp://beyondweird.com/occult/m_chrnzn.html

    Sounds like a end of level Boss in the game of Saturn !! and you beat him. hahaha

    "We are beings compelled by multigenerational language algorithms that span thousands of years."

    Ancestral spells and invocations?

    Like the Roman (Caesars Messiah) & Shakespearean language spells that have coloured our lives ever since.

    great stuff please keep posting.
     
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  11. genxgemini

    genxgemini Active Member

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    "The Mass of Choronzon
    More herehttp://beyondweird.com/occult/m_chrnzn.html "

    Wow, this is an unusually complete evocation for " the demon of dispersion". Trippy,NickZ!

    "Choronzon has been turned into a positive figure by some iconoclastic occultists, in particular chaos magicians who object to what they see as the stultifying and restrictive dogma of Thelema."
    *smiles sheepishly
    [​IMG]
    Now, I'm all curious about Peter Carroll,the author.

    **Thoroughly enjoying this thread,yo!​
     
    #11 genxgemini, Aug 5, 2018
    Last edited: Aug 5, 2018
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  12. willm308

    willm308 Member

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    This stuff looks great Nick, thanks I'll check it out in more depth. Here's notes from today:

    Sunday 8/5/18

    3 space missions down, 3 to go.

    I keep a notebook right next to the official medical beanbag that serves as my Launchpad for these experiments. A lot of it is, not surprisingly, utter gibberish. There are moments though…

    So the big thing today happened on the first “lower” dose. I remember being about 10 minutes in, and very aware of gravity. I lay on my back, sprawled out, swimming in the Great Beige. It was like trying to dance while strapped in to the Gravitron at the county fair. It was more than this, but that’s the best I can do. I sat up, heedless of the crystalline wires that the beings I’ll call “The Little Sisters of Eluria” (thank you very much, Stephen King) spent all that effort stitching into my head. They can get back in there whenever they want. Anyway, I sat up, feeling very much like a half-sentient monkey balancing on a rock hurtling through space at 77,000 miles per hour, grabbed my pen and furiously scrawled out the following:

    YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW HOW THIS GOES

    Then I lay back down, caught my breath and danced a little while longer.

    Getting shot up with medical grade ketamine on a Sunday afternoon by a licensed medical professional in the back of an office complex in Salt Lake City is nothing like vomiting your guts out in a tent somewhere in Peru. Instead of icaros, I’ve got a playlist of songs I downloaded from the internet. I’ve seen people check their Twitter feeds between shots.

    I’m not judging. What I want to express is how utterly unglamorous any of this is. Everyone is here to do work. This shit gets spooky.

    I think one of the hells Ketamine has to offer is the “We Have Always Lived in the Castle” (thank you very much, Shirley Jackson) feeling as you start to come out. No matter how groovy things might be on the other side of the abyss, when you come back, there’s no getting around the fact that you have voluntarily allowed another reality to alter this one. You are the one who signed the waiver, rolled up your sleeve. You watch a needle puncture your skin. This is your life, your mind, and there is something about the reality that you were handed that is so unsatisfactory that you are here now. The Little Sisters of Eluria can do their work if you call on them, but it’s still you laying there getting the work done. You can’t escape you, no matter what you shoot into you.

    Here’s something else I wrote towards the end of today’s final trip:

    “I was told there would be bright colors.”

    For the Tarot, I didn’t even try to make predictions last night. I watched half of a bad movie and fell asleep early. Here’s today’s draw:

    1. Page of Wands

    2. King of Wands

    3. 8 of Pentacles

    4. Ace of Swords

    5. Queen of Cups

    That’s about all I have for now. You guys have a good night.
     
  13. willm308

    willm308 Member

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    Monday morning – No work this morning due to crane issues. That’s okay, beige hell has very much been on my mind since yesterday, and last night’s post sounds crankier than I really think I felt at the time.

    Lately at work, I’ve been re-listening to the Exegesis of Phillip K. Dick (actually it’s my first listen, but second read, if that makes sense). A few years ago I was listening to somebody interview Tessa Dick, and I remember becoming very stressed out at the description of how he passed away. I know that brain embolisms are rather quick and painless affairs, but the description of him laid out in his living room, behind the couch, really affected me. I thought of how active his mind was, contrasted by the banality of his final surroundings. I don’t know why this upset me so much, but that’s the human experience in a nutshell, right? Everybody gets freaked out by different things.

    Anyway, when I’m fully in Ketamine’s tentacle-y embrace, as we are waltzing through space into Saturn’s orbit, the gates to the abyss where the big C-motherfucker lies waiting… I’m trapped – paralyzed really – in a setting that probably looked quite analogous to what P.K.D. saw when he breathed his last in that bodily form. And it still freaks me the fuck out.

    So there’s one theory. Another is (apologies if this is repetitive, I think if I write it out in slightly different ways it's helping me "see") that beige hell is our karma as Americans. We send our kids to beige deserts to kill. We ignore the plight of starving millions while driving to work in beige upholstered bubbles, until we sit in beige offices and go home to beige colored apartments. When our parents grow too old, sick or forgetful to take care of, we send them off to beige colored retirement homes where they breathe their last while staring at beige colored curtains until a nurse in beige scrubs starts unhooking them from the final few strands that held them tethered to this earth…

    God this is depressing.

    Be good to each other, and spend some time staring at some flowers or cuttlefish today. It’s probably good for the soul.
     
  14. willm308

    willm308 Member

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    Pete, this Mass is incredible. I never knew about this and will delve deeper, thanks.
     
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  15. willm308

    willm308 Member

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  16. willm308

    willm308 Member

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    Abso-fucking-lutely - My pet conspiracy theory is how the English language was basically engineered as a weapon to blunt free-thinking. If you look at the Norman Invasion of England during the reign of Athelrod the Unready, followed by the installation of the French language as a virus to override the Proto-Germanic Anglo Saxon everyone was speaking for about a hundred years, and then all of a sudden English is introduced.

    One of the things I find interesting is the way learning a language informs the way your brain processes information. The Germanic sentence structure for example - the way every verb outside the primary falls to the end of the sentence has to change the way you listen to someone, and therefore the way you absorb info is going to differ with the rest of the world. I've been learning Latin at a snail's pace for the last couple of years (I'm terribly slow at picking it up). I remember only truly beginning to grok it when I could wrap my head around the verbs. It's way more important to understand what's being done, rather than who's doing it.

    By contrast, I believe that the way one learns English is through story. English creates visual imagery beautifully, but maybe too well (as I'm typing this I'm getting crazy anxious. It's interesting). English tempts you, literally, to sit still and see how the story plays out. Because in the English Fairy Tales, the good always live happily ever after. It's a spell-binding language, and yet at the same time it erases magic.

    English doesn't allow you to have a thoughtful conversation about whether fairies are real because the fundamental concepts of fairies and reality fail to encompass both phenomenons. Borges could have only written his stories in Spanish first.
     
  17. nickzeptepi

    nickzeptepi Active Member

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    18 shades of Beige
    [​IMG]

    I get what you mean about the English language being linear almost - I keep toying with writing short stories or maybe like PKD of the super weird stuff i experience - but I can't get past the umbrella concept of the story, the details just don't seem to fall into place as easily.

    [​IMG]
     
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  18. willm308

    willm308 Member

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    Nick - those beige charts could be the stuff of K-nightmares. Short story writing is really tricky. I can crank out 2 or 3 in a good year. I honestly don't know how some writers do more. They're creatively studly creatures, I guess.

    So I resisted the temptation to fix anything except for some of the most egregious spelling and punctuation errors. Here are the notes from yesterday and early this morning.

    8/7/18 - Tuesday, how predictable; a breakthrough. I’m using sarcasm (poorly) to mask the very real feeling of awe that I experienced today.

    So, where to begin. For the record, I’m not entirely straight yet. Not by a damn sight; I got my final injection about 2 hours ago, and the world is still only behaving semi-normally; as if it would be a breach of etiquette for everything under my feet to pop.

    I’m super into semi-colons right now. They’re like the Swiss Army Knives of syntax.

    So, if you’re good then life is good. If you’re lucky enough to do good a hundred percent of the time, congratulations on being an Ipsissimus; the rest of us are stuck here in the trash strata. But for whatever reason, today I started meditating on what’s good here in the trash strata – and maybe that’s where years of listening to bands like Kyuss and Fu Manchu paid off. I started seeing gold.

    Gold sunlight, gold refracted through junk lenses

    Old timey Defender video games and T-top Trans-Ams with golden fiery Phoenix wings that spread across the sky – Hail unto thee who are Ra in thy rising, Hail Tiphareth, Hail the Christ Consciousness.

    You aren’t supposed to know how this goes, but also you aren’t expected to know how to be good in every possible situation; only the situation you are actually really in at this very moment.

    Let’s hear it for the semi-colon.

    This is the way out, the release in here. I’m not trying to unravel the secrets of the universe. One of the many, many differences between PKD and me is that I have no use for a weltanschauung.

    So, how to explain this then? Mother Earth is the trash strata sphere, informed primarily by Mother Saturn. But it’s not just those two; simply that they are the most powerful symphonies (I’ll explain this in a minute). But there are many spheres between the two Mothers, some beneficent, some maleficent, and even these are only descriptors for forces that beggar description. I know that Manly P. Hall does a decent job talking about the crystalline sphere metaphysical models that permeate much of the classical magical texts, and I cannot stress enough that I have no investment in these ideas as truth, more of an teleological lens through which one can view things when the reality goggles get yanked.

    So if Earth is everywhere (which it is – under normal circumstances you can’t detect anything but the Earth sphere with your 5 senses), and through the influence of Saturn everything is beige, what if one was to focus through a different sphere? I think I did this for a moment on Sunday to horrific effect. I was thinking about how sucky this all was and then boom! Everything went Dario Argento-red, and I think that was Mars.



    8/8/18 Wednesday – I almost cut some of this stuff out because it’s weird to talk about it openly. I’m going to admit some things that I don’t talk openly about, because I’ve always thought one’s metaphysics should be kept to oneself. Also, it just feels weird talking about it publicly. But, my original purpose for posting this online was to help anyone who might be interested in trying something like this. And if I can’t talk about the methods “I” used to deal with the really heavy trips, then how the fuck am I helping people?

    On the flip side, I have a hard time with stating anything that sounds boastful. In a weird way, I’m sort of proud of the fact that I was able to come out on the other side of this. And 99% of the time, if I do something I’m proud of, announcing it to people either across the internet or at dinner parties seems like a terrible breach of etiquette. So here’s the dilemma.

    But even that’s bullshit. Because “I” didn’t really do anything. If anybody did something yesterday, it was Dr H. He’s led who-the-fuck-knows how many people through this very same hedge-maze, and probably knew all along what he was doing with me. So, I survived this in the same way somebody survives a Class-5 river rafting expedition by hanging onto the side-rails. “I” was not doing the paddling.

    But I did some stuff before the trip this time, and maybe it gamed the results some. (Here’s the openly admitting stuff). I have an ancestral altar in one of my rooms, and yesterday I made an offering to both my pantheon and my ancestral lineage. The offering was frankincense and myrrh, plus a copy of the receipt from my payment to Dr H’s office. I made a promise at my altar to try to let my heart lead the way through the parts of the trip that my head couldn’t tolerate. Then I meditated on the new hypersigil I’ve been working on for 10 minutes. This was the last thing I did before heading out to Dr H.

    So the sphere of Binah/Mother Saturn sits on the left shoulder, Chesed/the Sidereal Realm/something like the Akashic Records hovers just above the right shoulder. These are the devil/angel dynamics depicted in religious woodcuttings and Tom & Jerry cartoons (the fucking best). Mother Saturn speaks to you through the Gates of the Abyss where Choronzon dwells. This is Daath and the awareness of speech programming not only your operant paradigms but the construct that you mistake for you.

    To realize that you are simply a story that you are told is to realize that the story began long before your comprehension of language existed in your own temporal reality. I realize that this is a little dense, so I’ll try it a different way. You process the world through language, and somewhere in all of the language you have picked up is a single through-line; the “you-code”. You aren’t the code anymore than the story of the Giving Tree is an actual tree. But the story of you started before you became you. Therefore, your primary source code was written by something other than you. And that game of “pass the baton” has been going back since before we knew how to build campfires.

    So you have to surrender that story to pass through the gate of understanding beyond where our capacity for language lies. I think this is where you have to allow your heart-center to take the reins. To do this is to view the Earth Sphere through the lens of Tiphareth. This can be done. I did this, and the only way that I can admit it is to admit that “I” wasn’t the one doing it.

    This is another step on the path to individuation.
     
  19. nickzeptepi

    nickzeptepi Active Member

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    I'd agree the last bit was a way to describe the soul residing as spirit/Self in the body, and reincarnation or eternal recurrence.

    More confirmation from the nether-realms of esoteric teachings
     
    #19 nickzeptepi, Aug 9, 2018
    Last edited: Aug 10, 2018
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  20. willm308

    willm308 Member

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    You hit the nail on the head - Eternal Recurrence. Tuesday's last big dose came with this feeling of how old the human story is. It was like hearing the granddaddy of all campfire tales. I have a theory as to why Tuesday's experience was so much more positive compared with the first three, but I want to see if it wasn't just a one-off before I start spouting off at the mouth. T-minus 4 hours and counting until 5/6. Hope all is well out there.
     
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