Drumming on Salvia Divinorum
BackTried playing my drums whilst flying on salvia—An awe-inspiring experience... My vision was entirely gone, replaced by a strange cartoon phantasm in my brain, a full mind-screen image of a warlike whirling mushroomheaded plant-world Goddess in the style of Aztec reliefs, doing a shamanic dance and spinning like a Tasmanian Devil at 100 miles per second—Spinning me around with her, disorienting me. Odd thoughts concerning my family, even other people, as "the tribe" were my only "conscious" thoughts save this crazy sensation of spinning out of control. Successive hits warped and blasted my vision into another bas-relief-type image-field of pure silver-bronze metallic light—Once again the world was the Garden, a magical and primeval realm where God was VERY near—Again my self-awareness shrinks to that of a tribal unit—But I'm proudly (brandishingly) conscious of myself as a "soldier" of the Goddess, at leisure in the SCHOOL of the MIND. I selected the biggest drum sticks I own, took a huge salvia hit and held it. The energy was intense, amnesia reducing me to a machine—Blind mind's eye a wash of racing geometric visuals. I realized the three perceptions salvia warps or twists the most, gravity, time, and memory, are also the three primary concerns of drumming... I looked at my drums and they seemed like relics of times past—Everything was a vast storeroom in the Garden, and I was in its farthest, most desolate corner, where the most archaic creations of all time reposed. I shunted my metal-poles and cloth "self" to the window and leaned on my elbow, gazing out, stunned and transfixed by my complete uselessness and the unsung periphery of my existence—I was just an object, like a curtain on its rod, hanging here at the window's side, tranquilized, propped against this bare plank wall. I completely lost track of who I was, whilst a jangle of atypical word-thought forms yammered through my brain, my conciousness became confused as to who had said each previous thought, thinking "That wasn't me, who said that?...he said that...who's he?" and unfolding in my mind I saw myself from across the room, morphosizing younger in a kind of metal corridor. All I could think was "who is he?" I was wearing a striped green shirt, and my hair was long—But only after the tranqulizing amnesia faded did I remember who "I" was—Whilst under the salvia's spell I'd had NO IDEA, and thought of the person across the room as a "Mexican boy" who was standing in a room I was nostalgic about because some groovy parties had gone down there with my band. Outside, the after-the-rain dimness was like a child's storybook forest, sectioned into an insectvision grid by the window screen, which loomed an inch from my eyeballs. Then I saw The Rabbit. The rabbit was mottled whitish greyish brown—tiny, and poised to spring away. But it was looking right at ME, sniffing the air (I can still see those bifurcated pink nostrils pulsing with breath) and this rabbit was "THE RABBIT". It had that kind of power, the clarity of a revelation. I stared at it, awestruck, until my mind slowly bled back into reality, and I thought of the white rabbit from Lewis Carroll, and Jefferson Airplane. That must've been what I'd meant when I thought of it as "The Rabbit"—I seriously had to stare at this rabbit for what felt like twenty minutes, basking in its supple, innocent beauty—It kept a wary eye on me as it nibbled from the tuft of grass beneath my window. I had to stare at the creature until I felt satisfied it was indeed real... Tried reading whilst tripping on the salvia, but it was fucking IMPOSSIBLE—I literally was only capable of either staring at single words, in a kind of existential bewilderment (what in the world does "THAN" mean, exactly?—It's like you're Clinton all the sudden) and when I'd try to normally scan the text like usual, my eyeballs actually tried to LICK the screen!—WHAT IN THE FUCK?—This sensation was a bit rough, like twin rubber erasers squeaking against the glowing glass, the information on which seemed to be beaming straight from GOD. I'd try to lick these black angular lines of text (salvia trip reports on Erowid Psychoactive Vaults), and my tongue moved in unison with my eyeballs—This was the peak of the amnesiac freakout part of the trip. The entire concept of reading seemed completely alien—A primitive and entirely useless form of communication. Later, I tried reading the same page again, and realized that whilst tripping, I'd been seeing the screen in negative—That is, the yellowish green text on the black background had been hallucinogenically flipped, so that I actually SAW black text, on a background of greenish-yellow hue.
Category: Music
Uploaded: July 24th, 2008 @ 10:37 pm
Author: redpaul79
Length: 08:35
Rating:
Views: 3,014
Tags: diviners divinorum hojas magic maria mazatec mexico mint oaxaca pastora psychedelic sage salvia shamans shepherdess ska
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