The Fool’s Journey
This is part 1 of a continuing story.
Here is part 2: The Magnetic Messiah
Here is part 3: Lost In Lucid Shadows
Here is part 4: Narcotics Anonymous Meeting
Here is part 5: DIY Sensory Deprivation Tank
Here is part 6: The Joy Of Homelessness
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Chapter 1: The Alchemist’s Table
I hum softly, barely a whisper, as I move around the cluttered table. “One pill makes you smart, and one pill makes you dumb,” I sing sotto voce, grinning at the absurdity of it all. The words tumble out of me, a parody of an old song, twisted to suit my mood. “And the ones that mother-father gives you don’t do anything at all. Go ask Jerry when he’s ten inches tall. Go ask Jerry, I think he’ll know.”
I laugh, though there’s no one here to hear my joke but me, Jerry. This is it. Tonight I will finally meet God. Not through prayer, meditation, or any of that religious nonsense, but through the ultimate experience, one that should take me to the brink of death and bring me back, enlightened and transformed.
On the small table before me lies an assortment of vials, powders, syringes, and a mortar and pestle. Ingredients I have spent months gathering. Ingredients that together form the keys to the door I am about to open. This isn’t some reckless experiment. No, I’ve done my research, scoured the darkest corners of the Internet, talked to the most experienced psychonauts. Tonight, I will mix them to create a novel psychoactive substance in a daring attempt to meet God without actually dying. I am a psychonaut, and I boldly trip where no man has tripped before.
Chapter 2: The Sacred Brew
Following carefully the ancient Chinese script of Taoist waidan alchemy that I had smuggled out of what is now a closed Tibetan monastery, I carefully assemble the ingredients for jindan, The Golden Elixir. Jindan is said to grant “joining with the Dao” and communication with the deities of the celestial pantheon. But my jindan has a couple of added modern kicks.
My hands tremble with excitement as I measure out the first modern ingredient: Ketamine. The crystalline powder shimmers under the dim light, almost mocking me with its deceptive beauty. I know this dissociative anesthetic will be the foundation of my journey. A drug to detach me from my body and step into another realm. The powder dissolves easily in a small vial of water, creating a clear solution that looks innocent enough but holds the promise of profound spiritual insight.
Next, I prepare the DMT (Dimethyltryptamine), extracted from Mimosa hostilis bark. This plant, also commonly known as jurema preta in Brazil. It has been used for thousands of years to produce glorious visions in warriors before battle by ancient Mayan communities. This is the key to unlocking dimensions beyond the physical world, the gateway drug to the most vivid experiences known to humankind. With DMT, I shall meet entities. Beings that exist beyond the veil of normal perception. I mix a small amount of Mimosa hostilis extract with my Ketamine solution, creating a brew that I’m sure will catapult me into the heart of the universe, or so I hope.
The third ingredient is Psilocybin, derived from Psilocybe cubensis, commonly known as magic mushrooms. This powerful psychedelic will stretch my consciousness to its limits. With it I will warp time and reality until all that remains is pure, unfiltered experience. I carefully weigh out a generous dose of the dried mushrooms and consume them, feeling their earthy bitterness dissolve in my mouth. The journey has already begun.
Finally, I prepare Salvia divinorum. This plant is found naturally in the highlands of the Mexican Oaxaca state, where the Mazatec Indians ingest its fresh leaves or leaf preparations for divinatory rituals. This hallucinogenic wildcard, will be the substance that will either pull me into another world or shatter my mind entirely. Diviner’s sage intense, short-lived effects are notorious, but I’m confident. Perhaps too confident that I can handle it. I roll a small amount into a joint, setting it aside for the final phase of my ritual.
Chapter 3: The Descent
I lay back on my worn-out couch, the concoctions swirling within me like a storm. The first wave hits hard, as the Ketamine takes effect, pulling me out of my body and into a state of detachment. I feel as though I’m floating above myself, looking down at my physical form as it slowly recedes from my awareness.
As the DMT kicks in, the walls of my apartment begin to dissolve, replaced by swirling patterns of light and color. I’m no longer in my room; I’m somewhere else, a place where time and space have no meaning. Beings of light approach me, their forms shifting and pulsing with energy. They whisper to me, words I can’t understand but feel deeply, as if they’re speaking directly to my soul.
The Psilocybin intensifies everything. My consciousness stretches and twists, looping back on itself in a kaleidoscope of memories, visions, and emotions. I’m everywhere and nowhere, seeing the entirety of my life and the universe in a single, overwhelming instant. Time ceases to exist. I find myself on the edge of something vast and incomprehensible.
Finally, with trembling hands, I light the Salvia joint and inhale deeply. The world shatters into a thousand pieces, and my consciousness is flung across the cosmos. I feel myself dying, being torn apart and reassembled, my essence dissolving into the void. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. For a moment, I’m convinced I’ve succeeded, that I’m floating in the presence of God.
Chapter 4: Meeting God
As the void around me settles, I find myself enveloped in a warm, radiant light. The sensation is overwhelming — pure love, pure acceptance. This is it. I’m finally in the presence of God. The light feels alive, pulsating with an energy that resonates with every fiber of my being. Tears well up in my eyes, not from sadness but from a profound sense of joy and relief. The pain of my life, the suffering, the endless questions — they all seem so insignificant now, dwarfed by the immensity of this divine presence.
I feel a connection, an invitation to ask the questions that have plagued me for so long. Why is there so much pain in the world? Why have I suffered so much in my sorry excuse of a life? I mentally pose these questions, hoping, pleading for answers. But as I do, the light begins to shift. What was once warm and loving now feels distant, as if the very act of questioning has disrupted its harmony.
I ask again, more insistently, but instead of an answer, I feel the light grow colder, darker. Panic sets in. I begin to demand answers, my thoughts turning from desperate pleas to anger. “Why? Why do we suffer? Why have I suffered?”
The void around me changes, the light replaced by an ominous darkness. Shadows twist and writhe, forming shapes that are both monstrous and terrifying. The landscape shifts into a nightmare, filled with grotesque figures and weirdly impossible forms.
A monstrous entity begins to take shape in front of me. A giant crawling chaos, an abomination of swirling tentacles, multiple gnashing mouths and enormous oddly shaped eyes that glare in hatred. It is as if the very essence of madness has manifested before me, its form constantly shifting, never fully solid yet terrifyingly real.
The creature lurches toward me, a mass of writhing limbs and unholy darkness. I try to flee, but there is nowhere to go. The nightmare closes in, the monster’s tendrils reaching out to engulf me, to drag me into an abyss of endless torment. Every instinct screams at me to escape, but the more I try, the closer it gets. The world around me distorts, a cacophony of screams and horrors wailing in pain. Just as the creature is about to consume me, I feel myself slipping away, consciousness fading as the darkness overtakes me.
Chapter 5: The Return
I awake hours later, lying on the cold floor of my apartment, drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. My mind is a blur of fragmented images and sensations. I have no idea how much time has passed or even if I’ve truly returned to reality. The remnants of my journey cling to me, like a fading dream that refuses to let go.
I stagger to my feet, glancing around the room, which is still spinning slightly. The alchemist’s table is in disarray, the vials and syringes scattered as if an invisible force had swept through the room. But I neither feel nor think any sign of the divine within me. No revelation, no enlightenment, just the stark realization that I’ve come terrifyingly close to something I don’t understand and can never fully grasp.
I collapse onto my couch, my body exhausted and my mind racing. I had sought to meet God, but what I found was something else entirely. A glimpse into the infinite, perhaps, but also into the fragility of the human mind when pushed beyond its limits. The experience has changed me, but not in the way I had hoped. Instead of enlightenment, I find myself haunted by the echoes of a journey that should never have been taken.
As the effects of the drugs slowly wear off, I know one thing for certain: some doors are meant to remain closed, and some journeys are better left untraveled.
“Remember what the caterpillar said,” I murmur, the words of the song echoing in my mind. “Who are you?”
All personal statements were written by me and edited for spelling and grammar by ChatGPT. Sections of this article have been refined by AI to enhance comprehensibility and to provide facts that only online search engines would know.
© David Speakman 2024
