How much time do you sit and think each day?

Most evenings I spend lying on the couch with a few candles burning,just thinking…No music,no nothing.I really like the peace of that.To know that I have a few hours where no demands are being made of me.I like to stroke my beard and just ponder and to create a sense of ease,because generally I worry too much about everyone and everything.

 

I think a lot better when I'm slightly distracted, like walking or driving.

 

9 minutes and 32 seconds.

 

I am often fully absorbed in reflecting on creation and, well, God as hypostasis; but more particularly on the peculiarity of our ontological entelechy. My mind has been heavily racked with psychedelic drugs and obsessive reading during the past 13 years at some point it would appear that I'd rent a veil and am forever therefore awestruck. It descends on me at least once a day and sometimes sporadically throughout, and it tends to endure for between a few seconds and upwards of several minutes before I wax doleful and the overwhelming paroxysm mercifully relents. It is a critical state which is sometimes so profoundly disorienting and alarming that I fear for my sanity (especially when the subject cloven is one of unbearable magnitude, such as time) and once the infinite regress in awareness is beheld I tremble for fear of the ominous propensity to seizure.

What is most confounding of all to me is that this conscious state bears forth the gamut of visionary imagery and the accompanying emotional responses; in other words it may be relevatory to divine notions of mercy and of cruelty; it may suggest discarnate and incorporeal but local bodies in a dance of consolidation, or an amorphous ‘mass’ as subtle-body even to the very essence of matter; it may impart epiphanic euphoria by repose in the comforting hope that there is such thing as soul and that it is emerging into the presence of the Creator, or it may issue forth from every crevice an anxious portent which lights up Earth’s nervous system. Any and all visions which arise before me come unannounced and yield more questions than answers so that the fruit borne is obscured and I’m left to wonder why I am of this predisposition.

I’m no shaman or spiritual warrior, and although I’m familiar enough with the psychological territory to invoke a sort of intermediate geomancy when the need arises, still I tend to recoil aghast at the approach of the interface and once the threshold has been travailed, I fold with the surroundings with the recognition that this place is a glimpse at the ‘other side’ and knowing that the way back has not been permanently severed revokes any intimation to belonging, a feeling of “I’m not ready for this and should not even be here, yet” is omnipresent and the cascading visions dislocate as I beg to ‘go back’ to being alive in the human sense, again. Le ‘territoire’ is ‘polysémique’ and confounds the tongue no matter how clever, it is impossible to reconcile the reality of this most intrinsic human experience (which all are welcome to by right of birth) with the consensus reality we have been acclimated to, and to talk openly of this matter invites insult and mistrust. Despite this, I maintain that until you have presented yourself before the gates by way of DMT, you have absolutely no clue as to how much ‘in the dark’ you remain. Bon voyage, my intrepid beloveds! To feel fear is as demanded of you there as to breathe air is here.