Trip report 2024-04-04 5-MeO-DMT.sync-conflict-20240426-185847-QL2G4SK

Transcript of dictation (over the course of an ~hour with a few hits on the vape):

Infinitely bad things might happen and I might not be able to stop it. There is fear of letting go on the drug, specifically of a spiraling anxiety loop. There can be really bad drug experiences, right? So there's this fear of letting it go too far, of a situation where I might really hurt myself or traumatize myself.

And that's a microcosm of my fears about my larger life: about getting in a bad relationship, about really hurting other people. I guess even about AI destruction: death is not the worst possibility, right? There can be real suffering. A terrible, infinite spiraling loop of despair and anxiety and trauma and not-okayness.

And if I let go during a drug experience, I might not be able to stop the infinitely bad thing. Of course, in this case it's the fighting it that is part of the problem.

In the real world, of course, I might also not be able to stop it. It could actually be the future of humanity. There are some really bad possible outcomes. How do I work with that?

I have to treasure that fear. The part of me that's afraid is precious, it is praiseworthy. It is trying to help me and everybody. And: I have to realize that I might not be able to make everything okay.

There might be something infinitely bad that happens. And if something infinitely bad happens, it will be infinitely bad. It won't be "okay". But if there's nothing I can do about it, then there's nothing I can do about it. I will have to accept it nonetheless.

The sense that there's always something I can do is very persistent. I feel my body tensing: stop everything. Stop everything, so I can figure out what to do. But I can't stop everything.

Even in meditation practice I feel a sense that I need to stop things: so that I can reconnect with love, so I can relax the things that need to relax. And there's a sense that if I don't do that, then I won't heal. I won't be meditating correctly. I won't be learning the skill that I need to learn. I won't be able to stop, ultimately, the infinitely bad things from happening to my younger self and to other people.

The tension might stay tense. I might continue to be lonely, to become more and more pathetic, until I die alone and embittered.

Even now I feel the worry about giving this list. Is it helping me heal? Am I using the drug right? Is this music track bringing up anxiety more than it's bringing up love? And, I don't know, I might be doing all of it wrong.

if you do everything, you'll win. But I might be doing a lot less than everything. But paradoxically by trying to do everything, I'm slowing myself down, I'm doing less than everything.

It's only really being okay with losing. And being okay with losing doesn't mean that losing isn't bad. It can be infinitely bad. And I have to accept that I can't bound the badness of outcomes just by hanging on.

And still, I worry that if I take more of the drug I'll spiral into an anxiety loop and it will be very bad for me. It doesn't mean I have to do it. But I think it can also be good for me to recognize that what's uncomfortable can be survivable.

And I think there has to be a sense of trust, right? Trust means trusting my own mind, my subconscious. That my intent is: May I be safe. May I be loved. May I have peace. May I live with ease.

May I be safe. May I be loved. May I have peace. May I live with ease.

I really don't get to control any of those things. I just really don't get to control any of those things. But, I do want those things for myself and for everybody. May I be safe. May I be loved. May I have peace, may I live with ease. But it's not my universe.

It's not not my universe. But it's not my universe.

It's not my universe.

My death might not feel like dissolving into the arms of a lover. I want that. I want that for everybody, but it might not happen. It might not happen for me. It's not my universe.

It's not my universe - it's not even Humanity's universe. But we are all here. And it might all end poorly for all of us. Wanting that not to be the case, doesn't mean it won't be the case. It might end poorly for all of us. There are going to be people I can't save. This might include myself. It might include everybody. It's not our universe. It's not anyone's universe. And it's not my universe.

Courage. It's not my universe. So to move through it takes courage.

I may not have the courage.

I might never get rid of the tension in the back of my head.

I might never really connect with another person.

I might screw up my whole healing journey.

I might injure myself. I might never get satisfying work.

I might hurt other people as badly as I heard Jake. Or I might never even get the chance. I might never heal enough to open up.

There is something delicious about recognizing that's not fully within my control.

David might not be happy. Phil might be the wrong choice. They might not be happy together. I really want them to be. I really want him to be. But he might not be.

I might not have the right thoughts. I might never understand the Dharma. I might never understand intelligence. I might never even understand what it is that I'm trying to understand.

I may not remember any of this tomorrow. I've never had a healing experience unify, bring my whole self together. I really want that. And it may not happen. I might never find out what the best version of myself looks like.

I might never get to be good at improv. I might not even give up the dream of being good at it.

I might lose the magic of MDMA.

I most certainly will lose this whole experience of being chill now.

I know I ought to feel grateful any time I experience a good thought, a healing thought, a healing feeling, because I don't really control any of it. I don't control where the thoughts come from. It's, in a sense, the grace of God. I know I ought to feel grateful for the good, not disappointed when I lose things. But I don't: my mind is wrong. And even this view is wrong: the framing of "ought" is wrong.

A clear view is just there exists a mind structure that feels grateful at all good things. That mind structure is, generally, beautiful, healthy, maybe ecstatic. You would hope my mind would prefer to be in that structure if it can get there. And - it may not get there.

It's not my universe.

I may never get into the Chanconne. I may be going on a stupid rabbit hole, using violin to distract myself from actual healing, and not even getting any better at the violin.

My website, nonlinear function, might never help anyone. It may never be organized. It might become an embarrassment.

The energy of my body now has kind of settled and it's nice.

There's a practice of noticing the good things, and I might fail at that practice.

Working with Milam Freitag might not work out. It might just be unsatisfying. I may have made the wrong choice. I might not have the wherewithal to fix it. Time and money will be permanently lost.

My parents' visit might be disappointing, it might be just another disconnect.

It's not my universe.

It's not my universe.

It's not my universe.

The thousand knots may never be untied.

I may never get in touch with my heart.

I didn't feel like I really let go during this experience. But I got a taste of it. The prayer / mantra that it's not my universe was powerful. I could feel tension releasing from my body as I recognized that.

I was looping the Helios song from my MDMA and LSD trips. I hoped that it would get me in touch with a sense of love. Certainly it helped, but it also raised anxiety about whether it was working. Was there enough love that I could be sure it's okay to let go? I couldn't be sure. And maybe that was the source of the wisdom - you can't ever be sure.