Burning Man 2008 mushroom trip - part 3

continued from Part 2 ...

Part 1 here.

I found I had energy to stand, and the music's rhythm inspired me to jump out of the chair and dance frenetically.

The music playing was reggae, one of my favorite genres.  I danced as I like to do, letting the rhythm move me.  At some point, a song came on with lyrics that sounded to me like, "I wonder why Babylon be fighting marijuana?"  This spoke deeply to my own bitterness and anger at the prohibition of cannabis, and I yelled out, "Yeah! What the fuck, right?" looking to the other people dancing, who acknowledged me with silent nods.  I danced until I got tired, then I went back to the bar where I'd originally been offered the saki.  This time, I accepted a shot of saki and it went down really smooth.

The dust was still thick, and I was thinking of moving on from this camp, so I asked those camping there to help orientate me.  I asked where the Man was in relation to us, and they pointed up the adjacent road, not the way I was expecting.  I was incredulous, at how much I'd been turned around.  Putting my gear on, I said goodbye, and headed up the spoke towards the Man.  I figured I'd have better luck walking along the Esplanade, keeping the large theme camps to my right. 

It was somewhat better tracking by the large landmarks and signs.  I was still looking for the Entheon art galleries. Just as I thought I must be getting pretty close, I saw a sign that said "Do not ask us where Entheon Village is."  This was a sure sign that I was near, but very frustrating, since of course I had been thinking of asking for directions.  I figured that many a lost psychonaut had bothered them, to lead them to erect the sign.

I ducked into a dome to wipe my glasses, and a woman inside was chanting at a small shrine on one side.  She was chanting "Nam myoho renge kyo," which I learned is a phrase in Japanese that is supposed to bring one to a state of bliss, by repeating it.  I huddled in there, avoiding the dust, just glad for the shelter, and a place to sit.  For awhile I went unnoticed by the lady, but after awhile she invited me to chant with her.  I was a bit weirded out, but I figured what the hell, it's Burning Man, so I chanted with her for awhile with little enthusiasm.  Soon after, she invited me to kneel with her at the shrine to continue chanting.  I told her I was "good" where I was, huddling by the door, watching the waves of dust sweep by.  I was dubious that just chanting a phrase, let alone that one particular phrase, was going to bring me happiness, and anyway I was already happy.

Soon I left that shelter and walked on, coming to another dome, another group having a party.  I was talking to a girl and the subject of the weather naturally came up, the blinding and stifling whiteness outside. I told her about how I'd invoked the windstorm, given it power, and she got a very serious look on her face, as though taking my power over the weather seriously.  She gravely told me, "I hope you got what you wanted from the storm."  I had to acknowledge that in fact, I did get what I wanted.  From my first year, I always liked walking through a dust storm, and I have come to associate that feeling with this magical welcoming playa.  But by now, I had gotten my fill, and really just wanted the dust to go away.  Apparently my power did not extend to stopping the storm quickly.

Moving on, I next alighted upon a camp with a large dome and a sign reading, "Black Rock Diner".  It seemed open, so I went in.  Inside was a typical camp dining area with camp chairs and pillows arranged in a semi-circle around a long buffet table.  It turned out, they were not open per se, but were having their camp meal.  This camp, at scheduled times, served grilled cheese to all comers.  They welcomed me regardless, inviting me to help myself to their leftovers, since they were mostly done eating.  I was famished, and everything was delicious.  I managed to finish off a large bowl of pasta with grated cheese that they were just going to throw out.  In the meantime, I had fallen into a deep conversation with one of the main organizers of the camp and his girlfriend.  It was one of those discussions that flows naturally, yet changes everything.  I think my admission to being on mushrooms triggered it, but it ended up covering many things: zen buddhism, yin and yang, virtual reality and the matrix.  At some point, he asked me what I'm "all about," and I responded in the Burning Man spirit by saying I wanted to raidate joy and love, throw myself into every experience.  He cautioned me that such a happy-go-lucky approach to life will unconsciously create its opposite, like the yin-yang.  I couldn't quite grok at the time how my happiness could create misery, but his warning opened up a little window of awareness, such that I did see it later.  My exuberance could, and often did become a drag on others, as well as myself.

I left there with kind of a floating feeling, walking out into the pre-sunset "golden hour," and noticed the wind and dust had died down. I could once again see the sky and far down the streets.  People were in their camps preparing, and lots of people were moving up the street towards the man, set to burn in just a few hours.  I was drained from my day's trip: all the walking, the visions, the discussions, the dust.  I had burned myself out, and wanted nothing more than to crash in my dome.  I hate to miss the frenzy of the man burn, but I hate even more to ignore my body's messages that I need rest.  I had never found my goal, the Entheon Village art galleries, but at that point I didn't care, since I had seen more than my share of psychedelic art within the confines of my mind, art which had been animated and interactive to boot! 

Back at my dome, I quickly fell asleep, and woke up hours later, ready to join the aftermath of the Man burn, and see what the night had to offer.

Burning Man 2008 mushroom trip - part 2

Continued from Part 1...


I left the center camp plaza via Bonneville Road, the second concentric-ring street.  It was absolutely white around me and with no visibility, I could barely navigate, hugging the side of the road, marked by occasional vehicles, and camp structures.

At the next intersection, I decided to head up the radial spoke towards the Man, thinking it might be easier to see where to go with the large theme camps to my right.  Stumbling along, I happened to kick over a solar lantern that was sitting along the road, marking the boundary of someone's camp.  At first, I thought to walk on, but then I figured I might as well be polite and set the lantern back up.  Squatting down to do this, I had a hard time seeing, but I found its base was broken and would not be set back up easily.

Someone from the camp saw me struggling with it and invited me in, telling me it was already broken and not to worry about it..  They brought me into their bar, and offered me a shot of saki, which I refused, quoting Woody Allen, "My body will not tolerate that."

I was feeling the initial effects of the mushrooms strongly by then: dizziness, nausea, nervous tension.  They invited me to sit in a reclining camp chair, which was just what I needed.  I was able to relax and enter fully into the trip.  This was when I witnessed the absolute strangest, most alien things I've ever encountered.  It was not all pleasant; quite a bit of it was rather scary, but I was along for the ride, and there was really no way to abort the mission.

I retained a vivid memory of some of the visions that appeared.  I recalled them later like glimpses from a dream, which, back at home, I sketched out in pencil, and later rendered in watercolors, shown below.

One of them was of a strange tentacled creature with what looked like a television screen embedded in its torso.  My mind interpreted this as a genetically-engineered creature from a bleak future-world,  whose purpose was to project shows in its belly-screen for the entertainment of the kids, and doubled as a pet of sorts.  The screen would display scenes of the distant past, showing animals as they used to exist, before they all became extinct or genetically modified.

Another one was a giant twisted-up tree which was split into three parts length-wise along the trunk, with curling branches and vines connecting it all together in a mass.  All along the tree's branches, goblins, elves, fairies, nymphs, or "tree spirits" moved, cycling around and around, dancing and cavorting in a frenzy.  They seemed to be celebrating their sheer existence, but at the same time just going about their daily living.  This seemed to be a free-standing world of its own, not a product of my imagination. 

The last one I remember was a vision of being inside of a large cylinder.  Along the curved walls of the cylinder were countless tiles with animated faces, all expressing some negative emotion: fear, anger, sadness, numbness, confusion, suspicion, etc.  Each tile seemed to be a different color, the "hue" of the emotion being expressed, and fit into this cylindrical matrix.  I empathized with all these beings, each caught and trapped in its respective emotion.  I wondered where the happiness might be in this scheme, this odd free-standing symbolic world, and then, on cue, my consciousness shifted to look down toward the end of the cylinder.  There, at the end-cap of the tube was a golden disk, shining brightly like the sun, and in the center was a face like the laughing Buddha, grinning and laughing hysterically, blissfully, without a care.  Just pure joy.  My mind was interpreting all this sensory input, telling me that this was a symbol of reality; these entities were just like the myriad personalities I encounter every day, or the moods I myself get trapped in. 

I saw more during this peak of the experience, but memory fails, and the wilder visions defy description like the wholly-unexplainable elements of dreams.

I was finally able to sit up and assess my surroundings.  The alien visions had retreated a bit and I found myself sitting in a camp recliner in a theme camp at Burning Man in the middle of a dust storm, which had thankfully settled down a bit, to allow more visibility.  I saw people dancing and heard reggae music from a DJ which I'd not been aware of before. 

I found I had energy to stand, and the music's rhythm inspired me to jump out of the chair and dance frenetically.  

Part 3 coming soon...
Part 3 here!

Watercolor Vision Painting: Dancing Wood Spirit

This was a detail of a vision I saw during an intense mushroom trip I had at Burning Man.  It was of a giant tree split into three along the trunk, with wood spirits dancing along its boughs.  The wood spirits were part of the tree, and at the same time free-standing entities.  They were not the tree, nor in the tree, but they were of the tree.  This watercolor painting was based on sketches I made long after the trip.

Dancing Wood Spirit
Watercolor on watercolor paper

Burning Man 2008 mushroom trip - part 1

At Burning Man 2008, I had a mushroom trip that forever changed who I am.  I saw visions of aliens that stayed with me afterwards. 

It was a double dosage for me: an eighth of an ounce of dried material.  A double dose of psilocybin cubensis mushrooms was more than I had ever attempted, and this was to be a roller coaster ride.  I had gifted some legal salvia divinorum X60 extract to a friend and in exchange, was lucky enough to receive the dried fungus.  The week of Burning Man flew by with little chance in sight to use them, always seeming to have another obligation.  Finally, Saturday rolled around and this was my last chance to dose, as we were packing up the next day.  That night was scheduled the climactic burning of the man.  The dust storm had been predicted to be bad that day, but rather than rest, I crunched down the mushrooms with some water and prepared to trek out into the storm.  My plan was to hike across the city to the other end of the Esplanade where I hoped to check out the art galleries at Entheon Village.

I set out into the dust storm, having strapped on my protective gear for the dust.  My gear consisted of a dust mask over my nose and mouth, swim goggles to protect my eyes, my prescription glasses that I need to see, sunglasses over my glasses, and a bandanna and hat with chinstrap.  All these layers of glass and plastic covering my eyes tend to cloud up with dust and need to be wiped off frequently.  Also, due to the heat of the day and my warm moist breath held against my face by the mask, my swim goggles eventually puddle up with sweat until it gets in my eyes, a salty alkali dust mixture.  So, I need to duck into a shelter periodically to empty my goggles and wipe them down.  Of course, this necessitates taking off all the gear and starting over. 


The dust wasn't so bad on the street, the wind being blocked by the tent city, and, sensing that I could easily withstand this half-hearted blow, I goaded the wind, egging it on and challenging it to blow harder.  My wish was soon manifested, as I reached the open plaza around the center camp, where the wind was blowing hard and the air was white.

As the mushrooms began to kick in, with a feeling of dread and slight nausea, I was approaching Center Camp, where I had planned to reconnoiter.  Approaching the building, feeling my trip coming on, and staring down at the whiteness of the path in front of me, I started to see a round shape emerge that became clearer as I stared.  Knowing it was an artifact of the mushrooms' effect on my senses didn't lessen the effect, as it came into focus and I was staring at an image of the Mayan calendar.  This was vague, but unmistakeable as it appeared before me in the whiteness. 

Soon I was inside the Center Camp Cafe, a large circus tent with a coffee bar, art installations, performance spaces: a hub of culture and expression.  On the floor in the center of the round tent was a map of the city that I had planned to consult, as I had lost my own map which I'd been given at the gate.  In the center was an open space where dancers, jugglers, hula hoopers, etc, would perform, stretch, socialize, rest, and what-have-you.  There was a yoga ball with covering of stuffed Pooh bears that I had seen there before, which was a favorite of the kids, but which wasn't being used.  I flopped down on it, belly first, and used it to steer around the large playa map.  I had the sensation a little of flying out of my body as I cruised the playa symbolically on this map.  Sure enough, I located my destination, Entheon village, at 2:30 and A.  No problem.

Rising off the ball, I exited the cafe on the side.  The wind was daunting, and the air was a haze of dust.  A young woman flagged me down as I was walking and tried to recruit me to help the Lamplighters with their nightly ritual.  I asked what it involved, and she told me it involved cleaning and filling lamps, carrying them and hanging them on posts.  I regretfully told her that I was too high to handle that right then, and she kind of gave a start like she'd touched something hot.  She understood, though and was soon off recruiting others who were more enthusiastic.  As a side note, I did serve as a Lamplighter in 2010.

Continued...

Back from Burning Man 2012 and Beyond

Back from Burning Man 2012 and Beyond


I'm back from the strangest temporary city of parties.  My ninth time attending this event, I feel that I'm a seasoned veteran, having gained knowledge and skills to survive in this wasteland and thrive in the lush community.


I hardly know where to begin to tell my stories of this magical world. 

The highlight of my trip this year was my Saturday night activities during the climactic Man Burn.  This event, though the nominal peak of the event, is well-known to be more of an anti-climax, with the more memorable experiences occurring before or after the actual burn.

I stayed in camp this year and watched the man burn from my camp which was perfectly positioned in the 7:30 portal, so as to afford a good view of the fire and of the crowd convening to see it.  I was told two days prior that we would be leaving Sunday afternoon, so I had only this one chance to dose myself with psilocybe cubensis mushrooms.  Even knowing I would probably miss being at the burn in person if I did this, I knew this was a major purpose of my trip, so I was mentally committed to this endeavor.  I munched down the few small handfuls of crispy shrooms, which tasted rich and earthy, and needed a few swillings of water to get down. 

After packing up all my gear that I could, I had to pack up the massage table in its case and load it on the truck that would take me home.  I was a bit shaky for the last of my task, as I could feel the reality around me slipping, my control of my body loosening as the first stage of the mushroom trip came on, signaled by slight nausea, dizziness, fatigue and disorientation.

I was lucky to be done, as I was ready to collapse in my dome, with everything around me I needed for the night.  Perfectly prepared, I lay down to rest and enter the trip.  I was along for the ride now, with some trepidation but not overly worried.  Deep breaths, and a constant awareness of my body's comfort level guided me to cover myself from the evening wind.  My vision was taken up by the most vivid series of images that cannot be fully described.  They were the eternal and universal images on cave walls and psychedelic art.  The geometric patterns, angelic and demonic faces and forms, animal and insectoid beings flowing all into each other, into and out of the background pattern, like a swirling animated wallpaper. 

Some of this was anxiety-causing, as I was along for the ride, that "having taken the red pill" feeling (from the movie, The Matrix), meant I could not turn away from the sights I had arranged for myself.  Moving through a multitude of geometrical portals, the inner layers of my psyche, *the* psyche of the universe, for that is what the mushroom revealed: I am the universe, and the universe is me, or rather, "I" am what the universe is doing.  I am not my body, nor the space outside my body.  Rather, I am the interaction between my body and the universe outside of it, the connection between, and not exclusively one or the other, but necessarily both.

One recurring theme was the futility of human endeavor.  In all of human activity, there are but two choices: to act or not to act, to be or not to be.  One image was that of a man, stumbling short-sightedly forward after some trinket dangled before him by a more powerful and higher-dimensional being.  This image took many forms, embodied pretty much all of human activity, but spun back to the futility of trying.  The other image was that of meditation: doing nothing.  A turning away from the futility of activity, to a deeper sense of knowing that comes from the stillness within.  Our unconscious knowledge is much deeper and stronger than any knowledge or wisdom we can consciously acquire.  What's a hundred years' experience, compared to the long eons of biological evolution contained in our very cells?  The meditation state is purposeless: not to fill any human biological need, therefore too much of it would lead to death.

The alternative was clear: either futile activity or futile inactivity.  One or zero.  A middle path might be possible, but any action or inaction would eventually be the same: rooted in the physical world, the illusion.  What was real was the underlying eternal consciousness of the universe.  I was the underlying consciousness, what we call divine.  I could still feel my ego present, but it had been subsumed by this timeless, spaceless, everything-and-nothing feeling.

This mishmash of images, feelings, and experience came at me for about an hour, before I felt able to sit up and take in my physical surroundings.  I was still at burning man, coming up on the peak of the event, the man burn.  The street was filled with groups of revelers, lit up by EL wire, LED's, and glowsticks.  All moving steadily downstream, towards the Man.  I was still on playa, happy, and coasting on mushrooms. 

The rest of the night was communing with my fellow burners and taking care of my body's needs.