So I Just Smoked Some DMT

So I just smoked some DMT.  I haven't done that in nearly a year now.  I can't really say why.  To some extent it has to do with fear - fear of the power of this substance, the power of my own mind.  But the last few days have been so wholly engaging and rewarding, so filled with joy and the thrill of living that today I somehow found within me the courage to take a toke.  I wonder if it has something to do with all the time I've spent in the woods this past week, searching for mushrooms?

It was a small dose, no doubt.  The motor hardly even turned on, if at all - no vroom vroom eery cranks turning high flying hereitisgetreadyforblastoff.  No high pitched squeal.  No waterfall of colours.  Simply a heightened sense of things.  Eyes closed, I could hear the whistles of the wind and the sounds of the Guelph city life a little more clearly, a little deeper.  Within myself, I could see the shapes and flow of the waves that make up the underlying layers of my consciousness.  They are so beautiful, and so reminiscent of the patterns I find in natural systems, in fractals.  My hands felt weird.  It dawned on me - not in any kind of intellectual sense, but in a very tactile fashion - how truly weird and wonderful it is to exist, at all, let alone as a Human Being.

I sat still, breathing.  I could sense the profundity of what it was to take a breath.  To inhale air into this fantastically complex holistic being is to ignite the process of creation itself.  It is the very act that sustains life.  And I could feel the air as it swirled into my lungs, twirling off in vortices, embedding itself in the geometry of my consciousness, nourishing body and brain.  I envisioned spiny spiky things.  They reminded me of neurons, with their countless membrane extensions, the dendrites and axon terminals that coordinate the bursts of electrical signals that govern my existence. 

And so I thought about my brain.  Not in any kind of intellectual sense - it had become clear by now that classical, sequential reasoning using linear linguistic structures was a furiously futile endeavour in the face of this beast of beauty we call the Universe - but again in a tactile sense.  I began to really feel my brain.  To feel what it means to be me, subsisting by way of neurochemical geometries.  To feel the countless projections and connections and interwoven circuitry that pervades my skull, and underlies my thinking.

And again I thought, isn't it marvelous that we can communicate at all?

I think I'll have to smoke some more DMT.