ok, one last thing, then i will shut up.
Sience is good, God is good, Love each other is better.
--------------------------------------------------------------
http://www.shroomery.org/10417/Life-Death-God-Acceptance
Life, Death, God, Acceptance:
The story of an intelligent novice explorer who learned about himself, love, religion, and the Universe.
Pre-Prequel: There should have been a label on that bag that read: Warning, may contain the most powerful single experience of a lifetime, the answer to all religion, Everything.
Side affects may include a feeling of pride and love for oneâs family, a greater sense of belonging and identification with the human race, Everthing.
Prequel: A brief description of my life in ways relevant to my experience described here in these paragraphs.
I am (or was at the time this was written, anyway) an 18 year old male born and raised in Florida. I spent the first 8ish years of my life living in a home with 2 brothers and both parents, living a regular Christian lifestyle. We went to a Christian private school, went to church on Sunday, and prayed at dinner and before bed. When I was 8 we moved to Pembroke Pines (from Ft. Myers). For some reason, with this transition to public school for the first time in my and my brothers lives, my parents decided this was the time to let us experience religious freedom, and to let us figure out God for ourselves. I did not realize then that it would be 10 more years before I completely understood my place in the Universe, religiously. Over time I decided that logically there were so many religions, so many conflicting âstoriesâ that no one could be completely true. That was my mindset, my perspective. At least until February 16, 2009. This is what they call, a âBadâ trip.
It all started on a sunny Monday afternoon, around 12 p.m. My friends and I had the day off of school, and decided to take some shrooms we had purchased a few days back. Luis decided to sit us (first time sitter), and Chris and Manny and I took about an eighth each of some home grown sh*t. Nice, pretty white stems, twisting into large golden brown caps. We had an eighth grade union to attend at 3p.m., but I wasnât worried. If anything it would be fun to see my friends from 4 years ago on while on shrooms. I had tripped for the first time on some field picked mushrooms a month before, and had no concerns about controlling the trip. I got cocky. We ate up with peanut butter in the car, and headed out to Publix to pick up supplies for the picnic reunion. Chris took his share about 30 minutes before Manuel and I, and said on the way to Publix that the reunion just wasnât happening. Luis said, âChill man, we have to goâ. Feeling nothing yet, Manuel and I agreed with him. Luis and I walked through Publix picking up chicken, pies, etc. On the way to the last item on our list, a gallon of lemonade, it hit me. Luis suddenly appeared 5 times further away, and the isle stretched a football-field length away from me. I quickly called out, âHey Luis, slooooooowwwwww dowwwwwwwwnnnnn.â This was the beginning of a long, very harsh trip.
Luis laughed and walked back over to me, and we proceeded to the check out where I gave the cashier a very loopy look, and walked out. It all came on so quick. We got in the car and started heading toward our friend CJâs to smoke a bowl and chill out before it was time to go to the park for the reunion. We (the trippers) protested further, but Luis insisted that we had to go, pointing out that we had already bought the food. CJ had a trampoline, and we all came up laying down and watching the sun explode from the clouds, somehow turning the dark, cloudy day into a bright, breathing, and alive surrounding. It was shortly time to leave, and as we walked out the door of CJâs house I waved goodbye to him, and, unknowingly, my sanity.
I looked down at my skin. My hairs, they were growing⦠So fast⦠Too fast? I looked over at my comrades. Facial hair seemed bushier and somewhat alive, and Chris was a slight tint of forest green. I looked out the window; we were driving beside a white car. All of the sudden, it was blue. I was startled and my breath quickened and heart began to race a little. In a short time all cars around me were changing color randomly. I spoke aloud, âChris is right, we canât do this picnic.â Luis, slightly frustrated, replied again, âWe are almost thereâ. Goodbye.
Iâm not really sure if I had stopped breathing, but based on my observations and my experiences as a kid playing the choking game, or California Dreaminâ, I would now assume so. I donât remember what I saw/heard/thought when I passed out, but it was in no way comforting. âTaylor, Taylor, Taylor!!!â Life support kicked back in at the sound of the yelling from my friends in the car. I looked up. âTake me home, nowâ. My heart was still racing, and repeatedly failing attempts at breath was not helping the situation. Luis declined, and everyone told me to just chill out. I could not. I was too far gone. âI am dying man, please just take me home.â As soon as the words came out of my mouth, the fate was sealed. I picked up the phone and called the most experienced tripper I know, the man I know I can always trust, an incredibly brilliant man, and the man I was most afraid of facing at the time: my father. âDad, I took some shrooms, Iâm on my way home, and I am dying.â Iâm not sure what he replied but I hung up soon after and looked Luis the face and said, with every ounce of strength I had left, âTake me home, nowâ. I lived right next to the park, so it shouldnât have been that much of a problem. He complained, and my fellow trippers looked on with concern. Iâm sure itâs not a good idea to yell at someone who is freaking out on a bad shroom trip, but Luis obviously had not done his homework. I didnât and still do not blame him for any of the events that took place that day.
After an eternity of arguing and blur, the image of my home finally appeared in my view. I ran towards the door, feeling the fabric of my very sanity being torn down at the edges. My dad flung the door open before I could grab the handle, and for a brief moment I thought I could be saved. No such luck. I had predicted death, and so it would come.
I regrettably do not remember the next couple of hours of my trip in its entirety, but I will make an attempt at summarization. I ran around the house, babbling, refusing attempts to be calmed down by my father. I ripped my clothes off and was ordered to put them back on many times, as was later confirmed by my parents. My dad tried telling me to puke, tried making me take a hot both, tried putting me in my bed. Nothing could stop the ride; I was peaking, and there was not an end in sight.
I suppose the realization that I was going to die crept up on me, but hit me head on at the same time. As I lay in bed, my mother and father by my side, I asked them in a frantic semi-babble if I was dying. They repeatedly told me, âNo, your not dieingâ, as was later confirmed by my research into the detailed dialogue/record of events catalogued by my mother of the whole ordeal (for what exact reason, I still donât know. Maybe she was curious?). I didnât believe them.
I babbled about a lot of things. Life, sex, past relationships, family deaths, my death, love, beauty, and everything were all primary topics of this hour-long psycho-babble. In this time the walls, my dog, my parents, and everything in general morphed in a carnival like twirl of amazing but terrifying colors, shapes and sizes.
Sience is good, God is good, Love each other is better.
--------------------------------------------------------------
http://www.shroomery.org/10417/Life-Death-God-Acceptance
Life, Death, God, Acceptance:
The story of an intelligent novice explorer who learned about himself, love, religion, and the Universe.
Pre-Prequel: There should have been a label on that bag that read: Warning, may contain the most powerful single experience of a lifetime, the answer to all religion, Everything.
Side affects may include a feeling of pride and love for oneâs family, a greater sense of belonging and identification with the human race, Everthing.
Prequel: A brief description of my life in ways relevant to my experience described here in these paragraphs.
I am (or was at the time this was written, anyway) an 18 year old male born and raised in Florida. I spent the first 8ish years of my life living in a home with 2 brothers and both parents, living a regular Christian lifestyle. We went to a Christian private school, went to church on Sunday, and prayed at dinner and before bed. When I was 8 we moved to Pembroke Pines (from Ft. Myers). For some reason, with this transition to public school for the first time in my and my brothers lives, my parents decided this was the time to let us experience religious freedom, and to let us figure out God for ourselves. I did not realize then that it would be 10 more years before I completely understood my place in the Universe, religiously. Over time I decided that logically there were so many religions, so many conflicting âstoriesâ that no one could be completely true. That was my mindset, my perspective. At least until February 16, 2009. This is what they call, a âBadâ trip.
It all started on a sunny Monday afternoon, around 12 p.m. My friends and I had the day off of school, and decided to take some shrooms we had purchased a few days back. Luis decided to sit us (first time sitter), and Chris and Manny and I took about an eighth each of some home grown sh*t. Nice, pretty white stems, twisting into large golden brown caps. We had an eighth grade union to attend at 3p.m., but I wasnât worried. If anything it would be fun to see my friends from 4 years ago on while on shrooms. I had tripped for the first time on some field picked mushrooms a month before, and had no concerns about controlling the trip. I got cocky. We ate up with peanut butter in the car, and headed out to Publix to pick up supplies for the picnic reunion. Chris took his share about 30 minutes before Manuel and I, and said on the way to Publix that the reunion just wasnât happening. Luis said, âChill man, we have to goâ. Feeling nothing yet, Manuel and I agreed with him. Luis and I walked through Publix picking up chicken, pies, etc. On the way to the last item on our list, a gallon of lemonade, it hit me. Luis suddenly appeared 5 times further away, and the isle stretched a football-field length away from me. I quickly called out, âHey Luis, slooooooowwwwww dowwwwwwwwnnnnn.â This was the beginning of a long, very harsh trip.
Luis laughed and walked back over to me, and we proceeded to the check out where I gave the cashier a very loopy look, and walked out. It all came on so quick. We got in the car and started heading toward our friend CJâs to smoke a bowl and chill out before it was time to go to the park for the reunion. We (the trippers) protested further, but Luis insisted that we had to go, pointing out that we had already bought the food. CJ had a trampoline, and we all came up laying down and watching the sun explode from the clouds, somehow turning the dark, cloudy day into a bright, breathing, and alive surrounding. It was shortly time to leave, and as we walked out the door of CJâs house I waved goodbye to him, and, unknowingly, my sanity.
I looked down at my skin. My hairs, they were growing⦠So fast⦠Too fast? I looked over at my comrades. Facial hair seemed bushier and somewhat alive, and Chris was a slight tint of forest green. I looked out the window; we were driving beside a white car. All of the sudden, it was blue. I was startled and my breath quickened and heart began to race a little. In a short time all cars around me were changing color randomly. I spoke aloud, âChris is right, we canât do this picnic.â Luis, slightly frustrated, replied again, âWe are almost thereâ. Goodbye.
Iâm not really sure if I had stopped breathing, but based on my observations and my experiences as a kid playing the choking game, or California Dreaminâ, I would now assume so. I donât remember what I saw/heard/thought when I passed out, but it was in no way comforting. âTaylor, Taylor, Taylor!!!â Life support kicked back in at the sound of the yelling from my friends in the car. I looked up. âTake me home, nowâ. My heart was still racing, and repeatedly failing attempts at breath was not helping the situation. Luis declined, and everyone told me to just chill out. I could not. I was too far gone. âI am dying man, please just take me home.â As soon as the words came out of my mouth, the fate was sealed. I picked up the phone and called the most experienced tripper I know, the man I know I can always trust, an incredibly brilliant man, and the man I was most afraid of facing at the time: my father. âDad, I took some shrooms, Iâm on my way home, and I am dying.â Iâm not sure what he replied but I hung up soon after and looked Luis the face and said, with every ounce of strength I had left, âTake me home, nowâ. I lived right next to the park, so it shouldnât have been that much of a problem. He complained, and my fellow trippers looked on with concern. Iâm sure itâs not a good idea to yell at someone who is freaking out on a bad shroom trip, but Luis obviously had not done his homework. I didnât and still do not blame him for any of the events that took place that day.
After an eternity of arguing and blur, the image of my home finally appeared in my view. I ran towards the door, feeling the fabric of my very sanity being torn down at the edges. My dad flung the door open before I could grab the handle, and for a brief moment I thought I could be saved. No such luck. I had predicted death, and so it would come.
I regrettably do not remember the next couple of hours of my trip in its entirety, but I will make an attempt at summarization. I ran around the house, babbling, refusing attempts to be calmed down by my father. I ripped my clothes off and was ordered to put them back on many times, as was later confirmed by my parents. My dad tried telling me to puke, tried making me take a hot both, tried putting me in my bed. Nothing could stop the ride; I was peaking, and there was not an end in sight.
I suppose the realization that I was going to die crept up on me, but hit me head on at the same time. As I lay in bed, my mother and father by my side, I asked them in a frantic semi-babble if I was dying. They repeatedly told me, âNo, your not dieingâ, as was later confirmed by my research into the detailed dialogue/record of events catalogued by my mother of the whole ordeal (for what exact reason, I still donât know. Maybe she was curious?). I didnât believe them.
I babbled about a lot of things. Life, sex, past relationships, family deaths, my death, love, beauty, and everything were all primary topics of this hour-long psycho-babble. In this time the walls, my dog, my parents, and everything in general morphed in a carnival like twirl of amazing but terrifying colors, shapes and sizes.
