On the process of letting go–part 2.
One day, I took shrooms and became one with the universe.
I sit now, writing this post in the very same spot the oneness occurred, a mere 6 months ago. Unlike many of my peers who had a laundry list of drug experiences by the time they were 18, I started experimenting with drugs fairly late. I am beyond grateful for this. I have enjoyed psychedelic mushrooms off and on for the past year. It has always been in the name of knowledge and insight (ahem..okay mostly).
I live in San Diego. I’ve got absurd amounts of perfectly warm sunny days, nice beaches, and plenty to do. To top it off, there’s also Balboa Park– which sits its giant, beautiful ass right in the middle of the city. It contains one of the most popular zoos in the country. It contains miles and miles of trail. It contains dozens of museums and gardens. It contains bathrooms scary enough to put an abandon tourture cell to shame. Best of all, it’s the naturiest you can without leaving the 5-mile radius of downtown.
My friends and I gathered here for a Magical Sunday Funday in the park, with our coveted fungusy, chocolate-covered goodies in tow. I had taken shrooms a handful of times before this, but h..a slug! He is crawling slowly toward me, like some slimy kitten. Ahhh nature in the city.
Anyways. All of my experiences with shrooms up until this point had been fun, full of pretty colors and fractal images and a strangified reality. But nothing mind bending. Nothing even slightly life-altering. I felt like I was missing something– like I wasn’t doing it right. I never got to the point where I felt like I didn’t have full control, where I didn’t have absolutely full grounding in my reality. Why?
So we sat at the park. We did art, talked, laid in the sun, played in the trees. We basked in the warm winter sunshine, our grateful Midwestern hearts in awe. The colors were amazing. I took more than my friends, but they seemed to be in another world, and I didn’t have the key to the door. I sat pondering but still enjoying the beauty of the day. Everything shone in lo-light, kids played in the playground behind us. The shrooms created separate worlds with each small change in the environment. Trees from the enchanted forest created a mysteriously strange world behind us. In front of us, there was a valley of green, and the sun sat right above it, lighting it up, along with trails of color that floated behind all of the birds and insects. It was paradise.
The slug is gone. I wonder where he disappeared to while I lost my awareness of him.
I started to feel a little antsy, so I left my group and wandered up to the edge of the valley. The aloneness melted my heart. It was beautiful. Green and trees everywhere, sunlit trails of color behind every butterfly. Three of my friends stood close to me, I joined their circle for a moment but I couldn’t seem to speak. I looked around in a state of beautiful confusion, and could feel my ever-present wondering, questioning and figuring being released. Something was happening.
Something, dare I say, magical?
I overheard only one phrase from my friends conversation, which contained words “You just gotta be”. At that very same moment, a bee floated directly across my vision and wandered innocently and slowly through our circle. Just be. Just be.
My Self left me then. Instantly I noticed my feet, how absolutely amazing the grass felt between my bare toes. Better than soft carpet, I dug them deeper. They sung out in joy.
I melted. The sun, the birds, the colors, my friends, the warmth, the feeling of the grass between my toes..it all became me. I was it. Everything, all of existence was contained within my being. I collapsed to the ground. I couldn’t even stand with the weight of the pure joy I was feeling. I smiled and cried. I balled my eyes out, in fact. Never before this moment had I cried out in pure happiness. I was everything and everything was me. Just be. So simple. I fell in love with the world.
The rest of the day was filled with magical adventure and grand, wide-eyed curiosity, and a complete loss of grounding to the Earth. I followed, floated behind my friends as pure consciousness, seeing my whole world turn into something new. This is what I had been missing, and all I needed to do was let go.
I sit here now, in that very same space where the cosmic melting first occurred. It has been months, jobs, realizations, growing, tears, anger, hope, and more trips since then. That was physicallty and mentally the strongest joy-filling realization that I have had to date. But If I have learned anything, I have learned that each realization, each moment of release, of letting go, is a tiny little piece, a small speck of mud being removed from the mirror. I still often forget what I have learned. I still have to learn the same things over and over before they become such a staple in my mind that I move from them in my every day life. It is up to me to build the muscle of remembering, and to keep on my path of letting go.
It seems that letting go is quite the never-ending process. Can there even be an end? There are things in my life that I still cling to. So much to let go of, so much to release from my mind. I might know full well what needs to be released, but it doesn’t happen over night. Practice.
A giant piece of my holding on released just last week. A group of us sat in the kitchen, enjoying a classy St. Patty’s day meal and beverage. (Green funfetti cake and Vanilla/Lime jello shots, obviously.) The conversation went to existence surprisingly quickly, which I am a big fan of, and will gladly take it and speak with more fervor than I do about anything else. Somehow we got on the topic of reincarnation. I’ve always felt this to be true, that existence is like a never-ending circle that recreates itself for infinity. My roommate Rich did not feel the same way.
“I just can’t get to that point, to believe in something like reincarnation,” He stated.
“It’s just hard for me to deny it, when it’s something I have felt, completely with every fiber of my being, to my very core. I feel it to be true,” I countered, limey vodkalicious jello floating around in my guts. What Rich said next, before casually walking outside to smoke a cigarette, blew my mind all over the kitchen, spewing brain goo well into the next room. He pushed down on the couch and said,
“Well I feel this couch to be true, but it’s just a mental construct.”
I feel this wind in my hair. I feel my bum getting sweaty from this grass. I feel the skin on my face telling my that it’s burning. These feelings are utterly real to me. I feel things in my dreams. I know they are real when I am there. But the dreams aren’t “real”. And neither is the wind or the grass or the sun or the couch. Only my experience of them are real. Biblical God is real to some. So real, he is felt. The Earth’s flatness was real. Witches were real. The boogeyman in my closet was real. How could I be so bold as to claim that I have felt reincarnation as real? How can I be sure of something like that at all? I can’t. I can’t be sure of anything more than what I am experiencing and creating directly, right here. Right now. Beyond this, we can never be sure. To acknowledge and understand that is a big part of my letting go process. I can let go of the unknown, to see clearly what is perfectly unfolding right before my eyes. To see clearly What Is. It brings to mind one of my favorite Jack Johnson lyrics:
Shocking but we’re nothing
We’re just moments
We’re clever but we’re clueless
We’re just human
Amusing and confusing
But the truth is
All we got is questions
We’ll Never Know
Silly humans. Thinking we know things.