A lot of people describe a great white light.
I’m not talking about death – at least not a physical death. Maybe an ego death. I’m talking about journeying on five grams of magic mushrooms. It’s two days later and my intention is to give you, the reader, an unfiltered view of the ceremony. I hope not to make this article an expose of my psyche. Did my ego die? I don’t know. It came close … so maybe. And somehow, I feel, healing has happened. I know I am alive. In a way, I may not have known before.
I experienced this journey in three parts. Let’s call them the Transition, the Kraal, and the Cry.
The Transition
In my deep dive into Magic Mushrooms (Article here), you can read about the physiological effects of psilocybin on the body. However, knowing it and experiencing it are two very different things. I wasn’t thinking about gratitude or chemicals in the brain … I was just experiencing … oh and the live channeled music. So beautiful!
The specifics of the Transition are foggy now, as I write this, but one thing stands out clearly, the song ‘Come Home.’ The facilitator was singing with such emotion. By the end of that song, the psilocybin had digested into my body. An intensely pleasurable feeling enveloped me. I started to journey. It was as if I could hear the thoughts of the other humans in the ceremony hall with me. We seemed to sync up with each other. Or maybe we are always synced and some veil was being removed. Either way, a deep presence arrived in my body. I arrived in my body. There were some visuals, although I can’t remember them now. The music, the sounds, the Tibetan singing bowls. Almost as if each musical note carried a part of me off into the universe.
Time seemed to collapse in on itself. So it’s impossible to say when the Transition happened. All of a sudden, there was a shift. Maybe my conscious state changed. Maybe something else. It became apparent that to continue to lie there was to choose death. And to open my eyes and sit up was to choose life. Others in the hall were also sitting up. So I opened my eyes and sat up. I chose life.
The Kraal
Kraal technology, let’s dive into it for a moment. You know, it’s something you might associate with the Zulu people and other Southern African cultures. It’s pretty cool, actually. Picture this: a kraal is like a cozy little enclosure made from thornbush or wooden fencing. Protecting livestock from lurking predators.
But here’s the twist – kraals are more than just animal pens. They’ve got a spiritual side too. In many African cultures, the kraal is seen as a sacred space. It’s where they perform rituals and ceremonies. So, you see, kraal technology isn’t just about fences; it’s a window into a rich world where people and animals are woven together in a tapestry of tradition and spirituality.
Well, off to my right, through the glass doors on the side of the ceremony hall and slightly up the hill, was a very clear wooden fencing. Something in my psyche understood we were in an energetic Kraal.
And yet this Kraal was also floating off into space at some unknown point in the future. If you’ve seen the movie Interstellar, it was like that floating ark. Some disaster had befallen the human race. And we were sent out into space, asleep. And we were just waking up from that sleep.
There was not much time for me to adjust to this new reality because, at the same time, we were in real danger. We were under attack from ‘Rugby’ … yes you read that right. Rugby. You have to hand it to the mushrooms and their awesome sense of humor. In my first article of this series, I wrote about my preparation. As the timing worked out, the ceremony fell on the same night as the Rugby World Cup 2023 (Article here). I love Rugby. And yet at this moment, some light years off into the future, on an ark spaceship somewhere in space, as we woke up, Rugby had morphed into something far darker. And it was burning and consuming all it came into contact with. And it was approaching our spaceship.
I just want to acknowledge this setup. It’s bizarre right? One would think that, confronted with this hallucination, some sobering thought would arise, ground me, and bring me back to reality. But no such thought arrived. This was really my reality and I did not question it. I lived it. For what felt like a lifetime. And the ride it took me on, dear reader, as I sit here back in the 3D world (as they call it), knowing full well that I was in a ceremony hall the whole time, somehow doesn’t register as surreal. It happened to me. And I don’t mind allowing that.
I’m not going to run off and try to convince the world that there is an alternate reality sitting there in that ceremony hall and mushrooms are the spaceships. That’s not the point. This was a very personal experience. For, in that alternate reality, in the protection of the Kraal, I faced many parts of my life and character. My life was put on the scale and I was shown how I weigh up. Often it was dark and difficult. And at some moments, that I was alive was truly a miracle. I still can’t believe it. How lucky I am.
Facing extinction has a way of bringing clarity. Showing what matters in life. What disagreements don’t matter and what beliefs do? I grieved too. For my life, for my loved ones, and for life itself. For love. For laughter. For the joy of being alive. And I appreciated all that I had learned too. The strength of the people who had guided me. The gifts they had given me. The beams of the ship that had carried me through life. The laughter. The community I grew up in, is a rare oasis of hope and humor and easy nature. And the wisdom I had gained. In a way, I felt chosen. I felt beautiful.
And then, when the time came to die. I didn’t lie down and take it. That might have been the more poetic choice. Instead, and I can’t explain why this part feels weird, I fought to live. To say ‘I’ is actually incorrect. Something inside me said ‘No.’ And went in a different direction.
All of this happened in the safety of my psyche and our Kraal. I genuinely can’t believe it. I made it. Whew. That was close. What a miracle.
We all made it, of course. No one was harmed in the making of this miracle.
The Cry
To be honest, the return was way less romantic or even fun. It was downright awkward. When it was clear that I was going to live, and that ‘Rugby’ would not burn us down, I became impatient. I lost the intensely positive and pleasurable feeling of relief. The joyful feeling of this miracle started to wear off. And what remained was weird. Being alive is weird. I’m weird, I’m awkward. And I can see that in other people.
Did the ego die? Something had died. I had mourned for it. I had grieved. I started to feel battered and bruised. I stood up and went to the bathroom. I didn’t know what to do there. I looked in the mirror and that was weird. I stood in the ceremony hall, taking in the scene. And observed some of the looks I was getting. I felt so out of place. I went back to my bed. I growled and made faces under my blanket. And then experienced a great release. A cry. An ugly cry, like a newborn. The first thing I did in this new life was cry.
Then the ceremony ended. Called officially to a close by the facilitator.
Conclusion
We were all given a hug by the facilitator and I was told how good I was doing. It was a nice touch. Like going to the doctor and getting candy after. Remember, I’m still feeling a significant amount of ‘medicine’ in my body at this stage. After that, we’re invited to go outside and ground. One of the participants had brought some snacks. Nuts and cookies. I ate like I was a starving survivor or a homeless refugee. I ate shamelessly. I continued my awkwardness. After a while, I lay in the light of the full moon and listened to the frogs. It was easier not to talk.
Faced with extinction, what really matters in your life? With your character on the scales of justice, how would you weigh up? Looking back on your experiences, which disagreements would you hold your ground on, and which would you forgive? Who would you mourn? I can’t stand here and say the answer for you. I just believe I got to experience that for me.
Laughter. Oh my God. Laughter. How great that is. Haha, oh you mushrooms. You clever things. And love. How deeply I mourned when I feared I would never experience love again. How strongly I believed that love would return. Like the sun. I chose to believe. Just as strongly as I chose to live. And Dad. How grateful I am for my ancestors. And all you taught me.
