Translinguistic Intensive–Back to the Classroom
Yes, it’s a trip report!
Intention to go deeper than ever before with dose increase. Intention to smooth out some of the rough-going of the last year. Family illness, caregiving matters.
NorCal, small cabin in deep redwoods. Isolation, but with someone quietly in and out, providing as needed. This is unusual for me, mostly I’m solo. But trying a higher dose, I wanted to be able to let go of the “perimeter concerns” and see what new freedom that might bring. Setting contained music if wanted, futon, an altar. And my meditation bench. Wanted to go deep but stay upright to better manage energies. And I made a decision to keep my eyes closed for the entire journey.
7 gms dried psilocybe cubensis, mid-morning, empty stomach, followed by 1.5 gms more about 2-3 hours in. Total: 8.5 gms. (Body weight 125 lbs.) The decision to try the higher dose came after a chat with Kilindi, during which I realized I had picked up an unexamined guideline (from hearing T. McKenna say 4-5 gms in silent darkness so many times) that I had used that as a ceiling, and didn’t need to anymore.
On the bench, eyes closed. The mushrooms came on much faster and stronger than usual, empty stomach just right. Energies flowing up and down spine. Many microadjustments getting settled, vibrational change as everything tunes higher. The mesh enfolds me, the wireframe upon which, with a certain twist of the mind, a dimensional shift can be made, and full-throttle visions built, but I am not into the visual today. I am listening to the soundscape, feeling my way in. The room is very quiet, nature sounds, but at a distance, but the sounds in the other worlds are getting stronger, more complex. Somewhere in this I begin to merge with the sounds. It is just then that my guide offered another huge mushroom which was the exact bit of extra fuel needed. Shortly after ingestion, the language lessons began, and continued for 6—8 hours intensely.
During this period, I got off the bench 3—4 times to stretch, but otherwise, was upright and comfortable, and making sounds in coordination with the sounds I was immersed in.
Whistles, both with lips, and with tongue and roof of mouth, and teeth. Whistles on the in and the out breath, so there developed a continuous stream of rapidly varying sounds—whistles, clicks, pops, hisses. The sounds were joined by gestures, small hand motions, quite precise, very varied, and keyed to the sounds. Certain “phrases” would be repeated over and over, and occasionally it would feel like I got one of the phrases “right” like a baby who is babbling, gets a word right by accident, gets mucho positive feedback from mama repeating it back happily, and gets the idea of a sound with meaning: a word. Only these words were constructed differently, combining in and out breath with hand gestures.
The sounds also were being “spoken” and “heard” simultaneously not only by me but by the Other who was part of the conversation, a communication just this side of communion, with two or more beings (self (in some format) included) both communicating at once, in and out, without interrupting each other in the slightest. More like a duet, but improvised. (I’ve experienced this same merging of meaning-making when reading/writing with my Glide video performance software, where it’s a co-creation of the Other and my self-selves-elves. This was a sonic version.) Simultaneous meaning-making in micro-sounds and movements. Yes, like love-making, the ins and outs of it, but that was just the style, like you have to get fairly merged to even begin to understand the Other, and what can we do but bring our best skills of merging to the classroom?
It was clearly classroom again, and a lot of drill. As this went on, I was asked to observe what was happening with various mental/emotional shifts that would occur when certain sounds were made, that it was literally a very complex and subtle dance of neurotransmitters frothing in the synaptic bath, the multidimensional receptor space (thank you Tom Ray) like a huge organ not making sound but being played with sound. The lesson was—if you learn to use this form of language, you can turn states on and off, enter and leave various states/settings at will, i.e., navigate. This was a much more complex lesson built on an earlier one, years ago, where I learned that a certain sound (SWWWSSSSSSSssss) with a sharp ending could move me out of a space I no longer wanted to occupy. (Sudden World Shift Syndrome—or—the Spell of Extrication from a Game). This was like a whole vocabulary of how to change states with sounds. It was noted that this would take a lot of practice to even begin to get the hang of it. It was also very “birdy”—no tryptamine growls in evidence (have been there other times).
The Other(s) were very present, but not as something seen, except for one segment, where I seemed to have been admitted into some kind of diplomatic meeting space. It felt very formal, and suited my more disciplined attitude. The beings there felt in some way Native American, but more as a costume signifying a type of knowledge. There was an aspect of initiation in the complex greetings.
Then a deeper understanding about language and the sounds we use to make meaning—that these excursions into altered states take language back to a primitive Ur language state (that I’ve heard described in psychedelic xenolinguistical accounts many times). I swam in that, and felt that I was taking apart meaningful sound at an almost molecular level, that is, some more primary combinatorial parts. I could see/feel/hear the parts of this, and it bore similarity to earlier visions of DNA-as-language, jeweled, liquid living language, zipping and unzipping, dissolving, reforming, at an incredible pace and precision, doing the chemical dance, lit by the (not so faint at that scale!) weak photon emissions of the nanoscale rainbow serpent itself.
As I slowly came back to the physical universe senses, the sun was setting, and I took myself outside onto a little deck and watched the late light slanting through the redwoods, ate a formidable cannabis cookie, which of course stirred things up again, and so I whistled and popped and gestured with the trees, and slowly slowly slowly reluctantly so reluctantly, took up the tools of “natural” language again.
So, once again, washed up on the shores of language, of the speaking world. The naming world. Mourning doves. Wind in the redwoods. An owl. Slept well, full of energy the next day.
Post-trip, many changes made, things falling into place. All around the theme of getting things done, discipline, of the best kind, finishing projects and parts of projects. Feet firmly planted in mid-air. Ready for 10 gms.
Just finished reading Rak Razam’s wonderful account “Aya”. That’s the closest I’ve come to a description of that kind of sound/gesture glossolaliac way of expressing. And he had a ground crew to record it, holy cow. As out there as I was on 8.5 gms I still managed to wish I had my H4N recorder with me—but then I had no idea that’s where I was going. I thought my human emotional interests would actually take up some of that space! What I got was the meta-meta lesson on how to handle unreasonable, unnecessary bothersome unproductive states. So I’ve been using these sounds at baseline (or they are using me, since it usually happens completely spontaneously) and I’ve seen states shift, sometime very rapidly. Of course, I have very little idea of what I’m doing, so you might want to steer clear if I start whistling in your vicinity.