Today I was chatting with Dan, my brother in law, about types of games. He is hooked on Apex Legends, but I’m not a fan. I don’t like that I’d need to invest dozens of hours to git gud. Not that I’m opposed to that kind of challenge — I’ve started playing Bloodborne, and my first 1 ½ of that was basically me trying to kill the same dudes over and over, getting slightly better each time, until I could take them out competently and comfortably — but in general, I prefer games that have been specifically crafted to let you win, eventually, and which have more going on in terms of story and characters. I just love falling into a game’s well-built world, as you might do a book or a really captivating film.
But the topic of that discussion isn’t the point that I’d like to write about today. I actually want to say how easy it was to say all that, to chat with Dan about this stuff that felt potentially confrontational. Because there’s me, basically stating how his approach wasn’t to my taste, and meanwhile, there’s him, accepting and welcoming of my perspective, open to hearing it, without letting out that ugly psychological brute of pride that we often struggle to keep locked within its cage.
aside: I’m reminded of this discussion between Neil deGrasse Tyson:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRx6f8lv6qc
It’s easy to forget how the possibilities of discussion allow this kind of exchange to take place. How easily thoughts and feelings can be transmitted between the minds of two people who are open to it, even when the roots of each other’s feelings seem to be in direct opposition.
I do wonder though: How much of what I expect about discussion, and human interaction itself, has been shaped by my past traumas — the both of them, the emotionally abusive mum and the years-spanning delusions of terrifying paranoia.
With that in mind, I’d like to, finally, share an insight that changed how I feel about the reality I inhabit. Or, more precisely, showed me how much choice I have in shaping it.
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I have been putting off writing more on my experiences over the family holiday. As wordy as I can be, and as much as I enjoy capturing insights to share them with other people, I feel an internal resistance to writing about some of the things I felt, and the realisations I had. They were so profound and deep that I’ve found it hard to approach them in my mind. When it comes to difficult feelings, more often than not I relish the chance to grapple with them, but this feels different. It feels too big to hold in my mind. That said, I will now try.
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During the holiday I stayed in an Airbnb with my Uncle, Alistair. I’ve always held him in high regard, looking at him with a kind of admiring fascination. A couple of nights, we smoked weed together, and with him, I had the deepest drug experiences I’ve ever had. They effected me profoundly, and were as luck would have it, offered exactly the god-level insights I had been waiting for. I need to write about this; not only to capture the life-changing realisations, but also, because I never knew that drugs could do what they’ve done for me.
First though, I’d like to share some background on my drug taking.
I’ve done a lot of drugs: all the popular ones, some of the darker ones, and even a handful of drugs most recreational users haven’t heard of — before research chemicals were banned alongside anything else more interesting than the comparatively banal alcohol.
Eventually I found a love for psychedelics. To say they are interesting is like saying a rainbow is colourful — a considerable understatement.
Psychedelics can open gateways in your mind, show you things you couldn’t dream of existing, offering you insights into yourself, other people, and the entire universe. Every psychedelic is different, with each one offering its own balance of short-lived enjoyable effects vs. meaningful learning experiences.
Shrooms, for example, offer insights into the mystical and the natural. They can show you incredible things about the world we inhabit — the one made of trees and dirt and sunlight and insect wings, and dreams and love and wishes.
MDMA, a much lighter psychedelic, is well-known for its recreational party effects; but take a look in the mirror while you’re on MDMA, and you’ll find yourself looking through a sheet of glass, separating you from a person who mirrors your movements, equally fascinated as you by their peering into a parallel universe.
LSD, as powerful as it is, is mostly constricted to showing you new layers of things you already grasp — but that’s a good thing. It never pushes you beyond your current capabilities, and on subsequent visits, having experienced more and understood further, you’ll be invited to perceive even more. It’s rather nurturing like that.
DMT is a mind-melter. It can shatter your illusion of reality itself, and the things it shares with you are incomprehensible to the point of instantaneously evaporating from your mind.
Weed is a special case. Used with psychedelics, it can lengthen an acid trip as it tails off, or ramp it up to unbelievable levels if smoked during the peak.