My Beautiful Bride, Psychosis.

August 18th, 2016. Thursday. I'm helping someone open a diner. Two days until it opens and she has left everything to the last minute. Every morning my routine has been get stoned, and help her out, but today I'm almost dry. Half a hit left. Take it now or wait til tonight? Guess I'll wait. Sober life is rather dull. A bland overcoat thrown onto a falling portrait. Consumerism has made us into ants it seems. My Newly Boss, asks me to come in early tomorrow, we're to do a mock opening of the place. 7 am. All right, no problem. Need the cash, and got plans.

Home around 5 pm, there it is, staring at me. The half hit. It knows it's power. Augustus laughs. He knows too. I can't sleep well these days, without smoking pot. I know too well what lies ahead for the next few days. Opening the diner is going to be chaos. I take the hit around 9 pm, but it's not enough to sedate me. Well let's try our best...

Midnight. There I am lying in bed when outside my window my mistress, La Luna, smiles. Her glow calls out my name. She reminds me of when we were introduced. My and Mr. Cowboy's first acid trip. She was out in full then too, watching as we looked to the stars for other life. As our gaze crossed paths she waved and captured my affection. I stood there motionless. Unable and not wanting to look away. Our paths have always crossed ever since. She has her games. She likes to come out when it's the least convenient, for she knows far too well her power over me. I can't sleep when she's out shining bright. She shares a laugh with Augustus.

Luckily no weed means no HPPD triggering. No sleep combo with that, can make one loopy.

2:30. I wake from a dream. Last I looked at the time it was 1:30 am. O.k. an hour. That's something. La Luna giggles. She was toying with me, for my dream was rather disturbing. Saw a very different version of our trip to Shambhala. A friend violently shakes while Doctors tell me he's fine. It's just some diagnosis nothing to worry about. The dream moves on, now I'm at a party. Around a corner a demon appears. He bears a pentagram for a mouth, but looks Human everywhere else. I brush him off, and walk away. Years of rare and random nightmares, alongside the knowledge taught from a Dream Warrior, have shown me to ignore such things when in this realm. They just want your energy.

5:30 am. I've been staring at the ceiling for the last 3 hours. BEEP BEEP BEEP. Fuck. I decide to take my micro dose of mush in the morning. See what it does. Only a mock opening today anyways. Coffee fuels me throughout the day, and lots of it. Luckily the day goes by fast. Off at 3. Tonight is Mr. Suit's day of birthing and like true Vikings, we must celebrate. All attempts of napping before hand are futile. Drum and Bass it is instead. Gives me a boost for a while, but my lack of sleep will start to catch up. A rather generous associate gives me some weed. We all meet at a bar. Feels like a reunion. People from various stages of our partying careers have shown up. My original plan was to cut the night off at 12. Get a 5 hour sleep in. There I am sitting at the table, midnight. Sleep deprivation really sinks in now. First it's cloudy thoughts, maybe a little irritability. Weed manages the irritability. Next comes the slight twitching. Gives it all away. My hands tremble, probably due to the amount of coffee flowing through my veins. It's all coming down now. This vessel wants to lie down, but I'm still here in a bar. Can't think proper enough to manage speech. Auto pilot is trying his hardest. It's not his fault though, he's rather dull but he gets me places. Auto gets me out the door. La Luna gives me a wink, she's still out. I'm a ticking clock to snooze town. In a calm rush, I get to my house and fling my self into bed. Last I look it's 2:30 am.

5:30 am. Saturday. BEEP BEEP. I'm disorientated. I manage to wobble to the bathroom and take a shower after a small puff. We open the diner today. Like my drive last night it was a calm rush the entire day. Never too busy but never slow either. My energy levels are low though and my body starts to ache. Oh well, if I can dance for an entire weekend with no sleep, I can work all weekend with no sleep. I'm home around 6. The fights are on tonight, round 2 of Mr. Suit's birthday. I'm rather entertained by MMA, especially this card. The night goes well. I get stoned straight to space. Can't drive. Again my plans of getting sleep are thwarted by my own doing. Cocaine is being passed around. I  have a decision to make now. To say fuck sleep, do the cocaine and ride out the day. Or to attempt a few hours of rest. A key bump is passed my way, the Devil knows I like to micro dose. Such offerings are presented often by unsuspecting partiers of the night. Although as I look, almost all of it has fallen. My guide has chosen for me. A few hours becomes 1 maybe. I'm barely there when I wake at Mr. Suits place. They're still up. It's 5:10 am. I need to go home before I go to work.

Noon. Day 2 of opening. I'm disorganized. Luckily my Boss brought in someone whose auto pilot is tuned in to cooking for a diner. I can slack a bit as my brain is failing to reset. I may have over done it on the coffee today. I'm shaking. Auto needs sleep to function. Error. Fuck it's just my sleepless self today. I'm sure the customers can tell. They keep asking if I've been working hard or late. I get confirmation later by a fellow manic. He tells me I look crazy. Finally a straight up opinion. Psychosis digs it's teeth in once work has ended. At least it has a heart. To calm my nerves I take a quick puff before I head home. I need to sleep. I am nearing ever too close to the cliff of insanity. All cars appear to be cops, or they're watching me for them. My mind tries to convince me I blanked out and did something, now they're all after me. It's easy to fight off now. Tonight will be the decider. Weed is my weapon of choice. I must be sedated, for tomorrow I again have to open.

Once home, my mind is a battleground. Sedation will take awhile for psychosis is a vindictive bride, unwilling to let the wedding end. She makes me delusional. Tells me sleep will kill me. Classic move. My mistress has left. I am here with only my bride to be. My bride, who still tries to poison me. Always death with her. Our dance has become dull after years of drug induced anxiety. I call her bluff. Bring it on. Let's die....

I'm still here... Thought so. See, I've almost been to the other side. I've had to learn when it's real. This is why I study the mind, as I have zero interest of forcing my ride any earlier than it needs to be. Yet I have completely accepted that when my ride comes it would be my time. Rather freeing way to think. Accept all that is. Darkness sweeps my vision as I close my eyes. The weed has taken down my body filled with coffee, and my mind has finally won against the Bride. Good thing, another day and who knows how long I'd be gone. Never ventured past 3 days before. Can't bring myself to dive off the cliff. Maybe another time when I won't have responsibilities.

Finally, sleep. The next few days my Bride lingers. I zone out here and there. It will take a few days of proper sleep to be back in full. My weekend is over. Time to rest. My proper thought processes are coming back. Feels nice to have my higher self again. Back to peacefulness.

--

A touch of madness is good for every warrior, as it will shine light on thoughts you may have been filtering due to negative energies surrounding them. A strong warrior will be able to decipher these thoughts and reflect on why they exist and labor within the mind. It is a dangerous path to take, as the current is strong and without mercy. Although every warrior will tread towards a different battle.

--

If you want a small taste as to what schizophrenia feels like, sleep deprivation is the safest way to go. I can't recommend it's a good idea. Any of us could have latent conditions triggered by the lack of sleep. I like to push limits. I find exploring these realms of the mind fascinating. It took a long time to push past fear though. Everything when I first started exploring felt like I was in impending danger. But after a few years of trying to push past these fears, within nightmares, sleep deprivation, sleep paralysis, or even drug induced panic attacks, I've managed to develop an anchor to keep in reality. For the most part it's all enjoyable to me now. I learn things most people would never get to witness, simply because of a fear. I've laughed at demons. Seen neon animals dance about my room. Even transparent beings have come for a visit. Is it all set in reality though? Who knows? Certainly isn't from our physical reality. Maybe it's all just from my brain due to some minor hallucinations. Sounds logical.. but why not explore this realm. If the mind can make it, why not try to understand it? The main difference I do have to stress is the anchor. If it is not built you would be lost to schizophrenia, and such ability to build may not be in your control, with predispositions and want not. I do also have a good friend who is quite knowledgeable in the realm of dreams and nightmares, who has helped. This alongside studying psychology has allowed me to build an anchor here in reality, so I know when my mind starts to drift into other places and I can still function and have the ability to bring myself back when I truly want too. It is all rather enthralling though.

Thank you for reading. If you liked what I had to say, then please like my page over on Facebook. I will be posting all my work over there.

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A Familiar Path

It's 7 A.M., A rather dreadful hour, where one has to launch themselves out of a peaceful sleep, shamble along through the autopilot processes and hope they come out on the other side of the door looking somewhat respectable. Or one just says fuck it and walks out right from bed. My autopilot must of broke. Can't get this hair thing down, caveman for the day it is then.

Breakfast consists of a puff from the pipe and a large coffee. Been enjoying this combo. All of a sudden that mad rush of needing to get out the door doesn't seem so bad. Although it's only been three days now that I've had to partake in such rushes, as my 54 week vacation has come to a sudden halt. Unless of course you count a screenwriting course every Monday as 'working'. Oh what's one to do with themselves when they're forced to partake in this portrait of a life. How many times has one found himself here? Stuck in a repeating pattern.
"4, probably."
Oh, thank you Augustus. 4th time the charm I guess? 'What happens twice is bound to happen a third', so now here at the 4th time is when something different will occur? A pattern is broken... Guess we'll see. |Although my head is pretty clear, as all throughout my past is filled with anxiety and doubt. While I wanted to find a new way, I doubted every step and I just ended up in a loop. Work, money, boredom, drugs, escape, crash. Only this time I manage to avoid the crash. The loop is broken. As scary as it might sound I do have to attribute drugs to part of my loop breaking. Through studying I have found a way to turn them therapeutic on an insanely deep level. Couldn't advise it for everyone though. A choice of drugs is a life long choice and unfortunately they're not for everyone. But it is in my best intentions to help any research into what all these substances can do to help us, especially all natural plant based 'drugs'. All of you wouldn't want to know what I know about pharmaceutical drugs in their current state. I remember a Professor, on his last days before retirement, speaking to a class room full of eager future counselors and psychologists. He spoke on the current state of mental health and how we just sweep these people under the rug. Pills for everyone. We know nothing about what causes these conditions of the mind. Anxiety, depression, schizophrenia. All of them, research has only gone into how to mask the problem. These are human beings given pills which have been found to increase suicidal thoughts. 40% success rate... We know nothing. The Professor asks us to change this in any way we can. He asks us to care about our patients if we make it that far. It scares me that this where we are. The only way anyone in the public would of known about what this Professor told that class, would be if they had access to Scientific Journals and knew how to decipher them. How fucken ridiculous is that. That day sort of sparked a fire within me and has fortunately led to me doing quite a bit of research into natural aids. Like Magnesium. In it's right form, magnesium is a huge anxiety killer. After striking gold with that tid bit my life has improved greatly.

Now I'm participating in a study for the Macquarie University. They want to find what effects micro dosing psychedelics on a regular basis will have on someone. Previous research have found magic mushrooms to have an anti-depressional affect. I'm to eat 0.05 grams every 3 days. Simple enough. An amount that small isn't likely to have a large effect on your psyche. I'm rather intrigued into any benefits this could possibly have.

My first day went pleasantly. Started as usual. Around 12:15 I took my medicine. After an hour or so, my thoughts came to me in clear fashion. Almost as if I was giving myself a proper lecture. I feel bubbly, but productive. 2:30 my phone goes off as I try to meditate. The Boss would like me to babysit the new building until a nice man comes and lights the pilot light. I'd rather meditate but I guess so. Cultured life takes away our simplest forms of free will. Oh well gotta blend in for now. The rest of the day was quite peaceful. Traffic didn't bother me. Sitting in the heat, I decide to listen to brighter souls than myself. I feel like I'm going to enjoy this study. Here's a link if any of you want take a mild left turn and help out some research.

https://mqedu.qualtrics.com/jfe1/form/SV_dmS8MdOxRred0Dr?source=uniweb

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The Journey of Ego Death Part 2: Death and Rebirth

Written by: Samson Jay.

Shambhala. Mr. Cowboy and I have been talking about going to such place for years... We finally did it. And fuck me it has to be hands down the best thing I've ever done. My journey of a life needed to come here. Looking back. It was, at least for myself, the perfect time for it to happen. Unfortunately any attempt to truly describe Shambhala with words through a screen, would be like trying to describe acid to someone who has never experienced such a delicacy. But what I certainly can do is paint a vivid display of  my own personal adventure through the woods of Shambhala. A journey of which I can foresee having a large impact on my future.

The date is August 4th 4:30am. Mr. Cowboy is sleeping on my couch. My alarm goes off 3 minutes early. X-files has me to believe Aliens came to me one night, as my time is 3 minutes earlier than everyone else's. 3 minutes later Mr. Cowboy wakes up to his alarm. 5 am we're up and packing the truck. We're suppose to pick up Ms. Madame at 5:30. Arrive at 6:15. We're off. Survival begins on the road. Coffee and beef jerky sustains us while we drive for 7 hours towards Salmo. The drive is absolutely beautiful on such a sunny day. Lakes, forests, mountain roads. Makes we want a motorcycle to cruise through to Osoyoos. Of course a little Psytrance always makes a beautiful trip a tad more primal. Especially on large coffee number 3. But enough about the drive, Augustus wants me to move on... We arrive around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. A sign reads: "Welcome Home". "How fitting", I would later think. We're through the gate around 10 or 11 and security now has to search our stuff. I shove 12 grams of mush, 14 joints and a few grams of pot down my crotch. I must admit I was stricken with a touch of nervousness. Last time I went through a security gate, a drug dog nailed me with a joint, 2 bags of blow and a 4 hits of LSD. Nevertheless all we lost was our jam jars. No glass permitted. Including all booze, even in cans.

Night time is in full when we find our site, out in the barren lands. Savages dwell here. It's in the air, as any true savage would be able to pick up. 'Home'..., heh heh. Out closer to the festivities, a more peaceful landscape is seen. Creativity flourishes as hammocks lie in jungle gyms, and RV's become pirate ships. An older man meows at Women. My first glimpse of the festivities is mind boggling. It's hard to take in, or to even know where one is. Instantly I'm lost. For the night I stick with Ms. Madame and Mr. Cowboy. Briefly we meet up with another associate Mr. Unicorn. I'm quickly informed of some great news.... He has LSD. BINGO!  Samson is a very happy man. LSD at such present time is his favorite drug of choice. Oh how Samson loves his drugs. Of course he has also spent the last 4 years studying them, writing papers in university on things like, "MDMA's Affect On Cognitive Function". Ok, ok. Augustus is insisting on moving again... Mr. Cowboy meets with a new associate of his. She gives him a better place to sleep, and from here he pops in and out of the journey. Ms. Madame goes to sleep. Upon arrival to the tent, she is surprised when I decide to walk on back to the party. She forgets she's dating a savage. Although this first night I don't stay out for much longer. It's only day 0. Not much is happening and most people are saving their energy. While I'm out though, remnants of that desire to entertain linger.. for now. Somehow I find my way out of the festivities. Luckily our tent is perched right next to a tall party tower someone built on top of a trailer. It's like a lighthouse in the fog. Rather eerie. I manage to get some sleep. Good thing too....

Bright and early, the morning dawns. Thrown right back into the heat, it feels as if those days between never happened. Were they just a dream? What did we do? I can't remember... Oh well, the river calls out for us. We explore the maze first. Not as intimidating as the night time, rather it has a feel of a hidden village. Only consumerism has sprouted. Good thing I'm broke. Here now, I feel disconnected from this place. My walls are still up. Patience though, as time can only move us forward. We hit the river. Refreshing water absorbs the heat from our vessels. Ms. Madame goes off on her own, so Mr. Cowboy leads me to his new associates. After a few laps of wondering we're back at the river. We found them. I'm introduced to a tasty little treat, my mother warned me about back in Middle School. Ketamine. Described to me, as putting you into a drunken state without all the poison. I'd describe it like having a beehive, where all the bees are running around thinking and trying to get stuff done, and then all they decide to just sit down, relax, and smoke a j. In an instant life was only in the present. Thoughts were lost. Nothing could bother me. Naturally I took a dip in the river, I quickly ponder on the idea of letting the river take me. Felt peaceful. Although in reality I'd maybe float 6 feet. More research will be needed.

As night falls, we meet up with Mr. Unicorn. LSD exchanges hands, and we're off to meet with Mr. Cowboy's new associates. Between leaving the camp sites and seeing our first act for the day, I ingest half a tab of acid and smoke 3 joints. Within an hour I'm lost. Overwhelmed by the night here. I can't see, seems like a layer of dust covers the paths. Breathing feels hard. I know it's in my head. Where's the rest of the group..? Already separated from Mr.Cowboy and his associates. Bad trip. I feel it coming. Sanctuary. Whew. Here at Shambhala they understand. Bad trips happen, so they built a safe place filled with good people who have been there. Ms. Madame sits with me as I collect myself in the safe place. She wants to pass out though. No way I'm sleeping. She passes out, I head right back to the party. Free at last. For the rest of the night I'm venturing by my lonesome. Solitude, in a place full of family. It's what I needed. I wander the festivities, taking in each stage as I wander. Everyone here is dancing full of life. Truly free people. I briefly run into a DJ called Marshmallow. A lady keeps yelling, "Guess who he is", and in my tripping state I can't understand what's happening. I just walk away. Throughout the night, I bring forth everything holding me back. Now I must face them. By early morning I'm a blank slate. A vessel tripping on acid, who has ventured forth past his chains. Now growth can begin. My walls have fallen, and it's almost as if those around me can feel it. A man high on K shows me the sun peaking through the clouds as we stand on a beach turned into a stage. It's a beautiful sight. A nice lady and her husband give me a hug and welcome me here. An older man gives some wisdom: "It's a marathon, not a race." His words haven't left my mind. Suddenly life seems more patient. With the sun up, I head to bed. It's 5 am. My more passive of sides is at peace.

The morning of day 2 is a blur. LSD tends to displace one after a long night. I vaguely remember smoking a few joints, and sitting by the river. It's all hard to believe because at one point a man runs around the stage called the Living Room, planting bananas. Reality is messing with me. Back at the camp site I learn of an eye twitch out of my control. Apparently I've looked like a smart ass without ever knowing. Great. Add that to my weird quirks. I do wonder how many times this has happened and who ever I was with thought it was on purpose...? Somehow in the heat, I pass out for a nap. Only my nap turned into bed time.

1 am strikes and the hidden moon tells me to wake. A brief taste of my primal nature peaks out. In minutes my clothes are thrown on and I'm heading out the tent. Shambhala calls my name. Ms. Madame is barely woken in my rush. She's still confused by why I'm heading out. I can't help it, I'm fully rested. A message awaits me on my phone. Mr. T-Rex, whom I met at Rockn River wants to meet up. Focus 1:30 am. I'm just in time. Although Sub Focus's set is superb, I can't find Mr. T-Rex. Patience. I let the music take me. Primal energy floods my body as I let go of control. My body moves, sensing the rhythm of the bass. The crowd around me, groove alongside. We all swim within the ocean of energy. Good vibes, as we all let go. What if I told you in order to truly feel something, one would need to let go of everything they're holding on to? That's passion. We fear it though, thinking once we give up control we'll be a terror to society. There at that moment, it all made sense. We let go, and we're free. We wont become monsters. Rather we become our true selves. As I ponder this, I am surrounded by those who have let go. Truly free people. They dance as if the world is theirs. Being free feels peaceful. 'Home'. During my breakthrough, the universe gifts me with a pleasant run in with an old acquaintance. Soon after the set, I meet up with Mr. T-Rex and his associates. They've formed a crew, finding people to hang out with there at Shambhala for a few years now. They're rather accepting. For they too have a fine taste for partying. Mr. T-Rex introduces me to his tree, where some MDMA came out to play. Lately MDMA hasn't peaked my interest, but I felt a 'fuck it' sensation and ate some. An hour later I was hit by a tidal wave. A rush of calmness over came my system and I was in euphoria. A powder comes out. Whether it was K or coke, I'm not sure and neither was the giver. What does it matter, the signs all point to good things... Hehehe. Mr. T-Rex creates his namesake, by putting on a fan powered T-Rex suit. He blasts off to Space Mountain and runs around as a T-Rex having a good ol' time.

Morning dawns, and my primal energies are running thin, as does the crowd. A beautiful soul within a man named TreeOak or TreeOrc introduces himself. He has a presence about him of a overall feeling of positivity. As he dances he picks up others garbage. Soon he offers advice: Sleep during the day, be back on the dance floor by 9 pm and you're golden to carry on till 11 am the next day. 14 hours, a fine goal. The stage closes. We clean the area to hear one last song, before we must move on. The group briefly sits at the Living Room. Upon arrival, the Sun greets us with a warm hello. I last until 9 am. A schedule is made to meet. 3 pm. I attempt to ride out the day without sleep. Unfortunately I last till 1 pm and KO. When I wake it's 6 pm. I missed the meet up.

Currently in our possession: 2 1/2 hits of LSD, maybe 10 grams of mush, and 5 joints. Tonight Mr. Cowboy sticks around. I tell him of my decision to do the acid. We have 2 types. A visual aid and a brain blaster. Mr. Cowboy will need to drive in the morning so he believes half is all we should take.. He remembers our previous behavior on such matters. I gently inform him of the high probability of repeating such behavior. We choose half of the visual aid. We take our final hike towards the festivities. Soon our pilgrimage will be over. Earlier the Gods shone us favor. Tonight there's something in the air. I feel it. Something... primal. The three of us run into Mr. Cowboy's other associates. They take in Ms. Madame, and Mr. Cowboy and myself are left to adventure. I show him the routes I have found. Hidden paths which don't lead to where I thought they did. Instead I slip into a puddle. I carry on though, what harm can a little dirt do? Once we find ourselves back, it doesn't take us long to desire the brain blaster. Another half into our systems. Alongside 3 joints. Release. True freedom. Everything I once was, is now gone. I am merely here. The music runs through me. Drum and Bass sounding like a war call. A passion flows. To hold my composure, I hide my face. Becoming nothing. Suddenly I'm connected with all those around me. Feels like the final party before we're off to fight in our search for Valhalla. I observe all around me. What I see are Warriors without a cause. People of free will. Our wings have been clipped and now we don't fit in to the outside world. We've been told our passions are fruitless and dangerous. I think to myself, just cause someone is aggressive, doesn't mean they don't have a good heart. They may just be lost. "A Warrior in the garden is better than a gardener in a war," is something I think back on. Imagine balance and total free will for everyone. Could it be done? Here at Shambhala you have all those who are tired of control. Yet we've been given a world which only hinders us. We're told what to think, and how to look. Here, however you want to be, is accepted. You only have to open yourself to everyone else. I think of what good we all could do if we managed to communicate. We must all believe in similar values. As I sink further into the acid, my mind starts to slip. No longer are my thoughts clear. The brain blaster is in full effect, and we have lift off. One way ticket to Space Mountain. Now my mind is gone too. Full savage. Pure primal. I must hide myself. My face feels of only madness, although I tend to quite enjoy such things. Others seem to be have been swept away, lost in confusion. They are full of fear, leading to such acts as smearing feces all over the bathrooms, or locking one self in one and screaming they don't know where they are. It's those who are afraid of letting go, we must at times worry about. They fight it and can act irrationally. I say let go, and accept. Let the acid show you what you need to be shown. Become like an animal. Think, are animals viscous when fully fed? Tend to your basic needs then explore. These understandings aid my mind as I let go. Luckily I've developed a mask to hide myself. He manages to keep his composure, while on the inside I slip away. Only one of Mr. Cowboy's associates sees through it. Must of been the food. Hard to hide when you're gorging like an animal. But the music calls out for me. I can't resist. I'd like to leave and find Mr. Unicorn. Into the forest we go. I never could get the hang of the place. Always turned around and lost. Now we have to find someone in here. Ms. Madame spots him. Reunited. He's one of the few people I broke my first rule of drugs with. "Never give someone a drug they haven't tried before." He's glad I broke the rule and showed him LSD. Mr. Cowboy is the first to leave. He needs the most sleep. Ms. Madame sits down, and once we leave the area she wants us to go to sleep. How can a savage sleep? She doesn't understand, what an enclosed space does to one lost in acid. She leaves, I stay with Mr. Unicorn and his associates.

My body starts to feel the weekend. I have successfully broken it down. Gone are my mind, and body. I am a blank slate, as Mr. Unicorn leaves for bed. I'm alone for the last lesson. I needed to be vulnerable. Alone. Without any defenses. Not my mind nor my body. Nothing could protect me. My shell had been shattered. I find myself recollecting in the Living Room. Dancing in the sand. I am reborn anew. The old self left behind. Everything pinning me back no longer exists. My thoughts are clear. Doubt has faded. I am here. To end the night, a pleasant lady asks me for a pipe and offers a hug when I don't have it on me. It's 5 am. The Sun is rising through the clouds. I am full of emotion, yet collected to my own thoughts. I head to bed and manage a few hours. Ms. Madame and Mr. Cowboy want to leave early. I decide to get one last glimpse of such a wonderful place full of love. Into the forest I go, where the party is still raging. 9 am. Everyone is full of life, dancing in the shade. I spark a j. A fitting end to a journey. Until next year Shambhala... Heh, 'Home' is right.

The Journey of Ego Death Part 1: Destruction

Written by: Samson Jay

The date is August 9th. As I write this, I have been home for roughly 12 hours. Delirium has begun, whether it's from the lack of sleep, or the copious amounts of narcotics I consumed over the last two weeks, I don't know. Fuck, it's probably both. Heh, alongside with my pipe full of pot and mug of caffeine currently aiding me in my attempt to write my journey. A journey of self destruction in the most positive of ways. Death of one's ego.

Our Ego's are our shield. They protect our minds and our souls from outside influence. (whether you want to think of that as a spiritual thing or an emotional thing, is up to you.) Often in today's world, egos either get weak and they attack their own self, causing such things like depression, or they get too defensive / aggressive, and they make their user always on alert thinking they're being attacked. A combination of these two traps is likely to turn any one into a savage. And oh boy, how often have I fallen down into these pits? Luckily with a little education and a strong mind, one can pull themselves out, and beat down such walls allowing growth. Of course a little help is needed. One can put themselves into the circle of therapy, always going around like a ferris wheel. But such endless marathons aren't appetizing to a man like myself. No.. I prefer another type of therapy. Psychedelics. Although for this particular journey, Psychedelics weren't alone, first I had to break myself down....

The date is July 28th. My associate, Mr. Cowboy is asleep on the couch. We're to meet with a good friend's cousin and her small town baseball team to go to the Rockn River Music Festival. Packed along is an ounce of reefer, 13 grams of mushrooms and enough booze to last a day and a half. Unfortunately our desire for the devils powder could not be fed before we left. Introductions go smoothly, if you want to be around any particular group, a small town baseball team fits perfectly for a country fest. They like to drink as do we, and they know how to keep you entertained during the hot day. One of them even gave me a nickname, which is still spreading. As a group we head into the festival, although we're quickly separated, which would seem to happen often as the weekend progressed. Mr. Cowboy, myself and my nickname giver attend the early day music. I'm quiet, unfortunately I don't listen to much country, and I'm fairly lacking in the conversational department when I meet new folks. That is until I drink. Now coffee does the trick too, only booze turns me into a bit of a prick at times. We all end the first day chatting. I attempt to sleep but manage only a few hours. For the sun makes for a mighty alarm.

Day two I'm fairly more talkative as a can of poison is frequently refreshed. Although I soon find myself tipping close to my so called limit. In the past, going beyond this limit has found me passed out on sidewalks, or standing on a table with my genitalia hanging out, yelling "I'm not going home!".  Fortunately I kept my most savage of sides buried. Unfortunately my ego came in full force. Dr. Prick, who really just needs to listen some times. He can be funny though. Quite often in my drunken state I attempt to entertain the masses. Often I swing too hard though. All part of the weak ego. Whether it's attention I want or entertainment, I'm not sure. All I know is when I'm sober I rather enjoy solitude or having light conversations about life and the universe. Pump me full of booze, and I'm a silly little jester with an odd taste for humor. After some silly moments blown out of proportion by yours truly, the night came, and we stumble upon Camp Fuck. A little taste of the more primal side of modern humans. Electronic music. It sends a call out to those who want to dance the night away. An oasis, within the Country scene. A place where we could get our nightly dose of bodily breakdown. Perfect for those of us alive at night. Here I managed to let loose, put away everything and just dance, until my moves took notice and my ego flips back on. Attention tends to trigger it immediately. An ego can turn dancing from a peaceful moment of being in the present to thirst for one's gaze. High fives and compliments. All in good fun. I can't say for sure if I slept this night or even next morning.

At some point during day 2 or 3, Mr. Cowboy had to pick up more booze. I can't quite remember which day it was. Things start to get foggy into day 3. I have a lack of sleep, and unlike last year, coffee isn't supplied by the event in a breakfast meal. Coffee is my lifeline. Without it, I'm a sloth doomed to stumble into everything. Now, this is where things start to feel like a dream. Maybe it's the lack of sleep or all the pot I've been smoking every morning... The day before a lady came around informing everyone about a summer body contest. Now I'm nowhere close to what any institution would describe as beautiful, but it sparked a fire within me. I had to sign up for it. Of course I spent most of the day before it started boasting I'd do it. Something came across my mind that people didn't believe I'd go up on stage with drawn on abs. Noon came around and I went across the river to sign up. Mr. Cowboy and a pair of other associates sign up as well. Only, with a little help from my fellow campers, I had a nice set of abs, and a massive dick running down my leg. Most of the other contestants were fucken jacked. One guy even humps a chair, coming in first place for such act. I come in 2nd. The look on the third place winner is priceless as I walk up to claim 2nd place. Photos are taken. Then first place receives a modelling contract. Ha! Maybe next year... Afternoon strikes, a heavy sun lies in the sky. We're sitting in the river drinking, heavily I might add. Unfortunately I can't describe much of what happens after the contest, since I became quite sick and laid down. At one point I lunge out of my tent and spew. Like a torpedo.
With sickness, drunkness, and highness all in full force, I lost all track of time. The moon was out though. It shone clear into my topless tent, as did a fellow camper. He hands me a solution to my partyless situation:
400 ml of fruit juice
1 bottle of water
a single shot of whiskey
I puke almost immediately. After some brief moments of puking, I manage to gather my strength and walk over to Camp Fuck. Something about the music wakes me up. The energy of an animal fuels my dancing. I'm alive again. Camp Fuck only grows bigger as the night goes on. Part way through the night Mr. Cowboy informs me Peter Pan showed him a white Christmas in July. We all dance until the Gods favor us with rain and Valhalla strikes it's drums. Soon their favor drives us towards our tents. I couldn't manage to get much sleep.

I guess I should talk about the actual event. I quite enjoyed the 3 days of music, of which I attended, including Thursday. The crowd was lacking energy though. I would be told later that some of the bands played quite a few covers. Well when you don't know the bands, it doesn't really matter. Most of your time is spent at the river or the camp site though. There's where the fun was made. Drinking games, rafting. Couldn't complain.

The dreaded day 4 came upon us. To start things out a fellow camper receives a DUI. Booze hadn't run it's course from the day before quite yet. Unlucky I'd say. Although we all assumed their wouldn't even be any early morning roadblocks. The bastards impound his vehicle. Next, another camper is given an open liquor citation. It's due to the beer I brought with me. We forget to hide the thing as we pass it around. Strike number 3 targets Mr. Cowboy. Chest pain. What struck him we don't know. But we did get to spend some time in the hospital. While he was getting all sort of tests done, I think back on the previous days. Good times, but had I gone a little far? My body had had enough. Dr. Prick had his fair share of moments. And now the lack of sleep would begin to take it's toll. Psychosis. Makes a mind rather slippery. Maybe if I had taken better care of myself, I would be able to be more present for my good associate, Mr. Cowboy. But I was stuck in a trap. Luckily his tests came back fine, detailing it might be a little inflammation or anxiety. When we return to camp, we find everyone staring into space. Mushrooms had been eaten. One man howls in a vehicle, while others fear death in a trailer. Naturally I couldn't resist the urge to join the fun. I would then find myself having a conversation breaking down my walls, all the while tripping. My ego would be fully shown to me. The first step towards the death of my ego had been taken.

Life felt rather positive the next day. We pack up and head home for a few days, until we leave for Shambhala. Although... the days between the two events are a haze. Neon animals dance around my room. A gift from years of psychedelic use, HPPD, which weed can sometimes trigger or enhance. Harmless visuals and a slightly different thought pattern is all it is. Sleep takes it away. But when you have been through a long weekend with maybe 8 hours of sleep, HPPD and psychosis join hands. Now my mind has gone savage.

Morning dawns. It is August 4th and we leave for Shambhala. Luckily sleep brought me back in time to blast myself off into space again.

That's all for Part 1. Part 2 will cover Shambhala. I'd write it now, but my room is spinning...