Posted: Wed 08 Nov, 2006 22:18 Post subject: Diverse Ibogain-berättelser
Några berättelser från folk som andvänt Ibogain i olika syften. Läs och njut!
Fallbeskrivning 1: Opiater
heard about ibogaine from a friend in New York and then contacted the International Coalition for Addict Self-Help (ICASH) to request treatment for me and my boyfriend. We were the first people to be treated in Holland. My ibogaine treatment took place on October 25, 1989, in a hotel room in Amsterdam. My boyfriend had been succesfully treated the day before.
The night before my treatment I was given a small oral dose of 100 mg of ibogaine to see if I would have an allergic reaction, which I didn't have. After an hour, I had strong memories of my childhood. I was walking through the house I was raised in. This kind of memory was a new experience in the sense that I actually viewed the interior of the house at the visual height of a child at age four. While walking, I recalled all kinds of details in the house which I never expected relevant. I experienced how my parents must have seen me when I was a child.
Before the treatment I was told that, like in a movie, I would re-live certain events in my life and I would experience repressed memories. In my experience, it didn't happen in a chronological way. At ten o'clock in the morning I take 1200mg of ibogaine in capsule form with some tea on an empty stomach.
I wait for a flow of memories. Twelve hours have passed since I took my last dose of heroin, therefore I am experiencing withdrawal symptoms.
After about an hour, I start visualizing pink diamond shapes. My body feels quite heavy, but I am still able to coordinate my functioning. For about an hour I am being checked on by the person who is guiding me through the treatment. To me, his appearance now resembles a pygmy. He wants to see if I start walking wobbly, one of the symptoms that ibogaine is taking effect. I am told to walk through the room several times. This request bothers me, I don't want to be disturbed. Eventhough the ibogaine is effecting my coordination I keep walking straight lines. I want to show that through willpower, no drug has to influence you if you don't want it to. Through this experience I realise that the same goes for all the other drugs you can take. There is one eternal aspect in yourself that is unchangeably present. My conclusion was; "why take drugs to suppress this state of consciousness?" I also realized the enormous possibilities of a mind that is crystal-clear.
In the following four hours stroboscopical flashes of remembrance happen to me in visions and sounds. Sounds are particularly irritating to me because they echo back loudly in an oscillating way. There is a constant zooming in the room, as if there is a gigantic fly in the top corner of the room behind me. It makes me think of the writer Carlos Castaneda when he described the fly as a guard "between two worlds". I resent the idea of experiencing "this older world." In the meantime I have already reached it's vast planes.
I see several rolls of film unfold from my head through the room, displaying cartoons. I notice that the humor in these cartoons is mostly based on violent interaction and realise that these are the first imprints in the mind of a twentieth century child like myself.
There are sounds in the back of my head. The more I concentrate, the louder they become. There are sounds of African drums and immediately I have visions of walking through the jungle of dark Africa. I hear a neighboring village transmit a message on hollow tree-trunks and I play them a message back. It's like the rythms have always been in my head, they just needed to be relived. Totally realistically, I'm walking barefoot through the jungle and dew from the leaves drops on my skin. I'm scared of the possibility of getting attacked by wild animals or stepping on a snake. This is why the visions of Africa make me uncomfortable. For the first time in my life I am grateful to be born white in the 20th century in Northern Europe. I realise the enormous comfort and technological possibilities I am able to enjoy in my current life.
I sit on my bed and bend my hands in front of my mouth, blowing through them as if it is a large tube or pipe directed to the ground. I am producing vibrating tunes and hear wailing sounds in the back of my head, but I don't understand why. -Months after the treatment, while on a trip in India, I met a German man in Delhi, who played an Australian instrument called a "Didjeridoo." This is the first time I learned of the existence of such an instrument. It's a tube-like branch of a tree, six feet long, that is hollowed out by termites and rubbed with beeswax. The instrument is played by putting the top part against your mouth and pointing the bottom down, in order to create a vibrating, wailing sound while blowing through it.-
Two hours have passed since I have taken ibogaine. My stomach is upset. I throw up a little. I have a vision of walking through my brain, as if walking in a giant computer-like file cabinet. There are long narrow drawers with selected, collective information, to be opened on request. Somebody in the hotel turns on a radio and commercials are playing. Immediately a drawer in my brain is opened and all the jingles I have heard in my life come out as one long song. I realise the incredible amount of bullshit that is taking the place of more important information.
Four hours after taking ibogaine, I throw up twice. The person that is supposed to guide me through the treatment has fallen asleep and his snoring disturbs me. On top of that, my boyfriend keeps interrupting me in an effort to share his enthusiasm of being clean. Where the hotel had provided a quiet setting for him the previous day, activities have broken loose on this Monday. Maintenance people are washing windows, vacuum cleaning hallways and cutting trees in front of the hotel. I decide to go home to Utrecht. I leave my sleeping guide a thank you note, in which I wish him fun exploring new, freaky cultures in Africa with his friends. On the train home I see a lot of people who I experience as being "dead in the head." I feel intensely connected with black people.
At home I don't feel good. This gives me the feeling I have been cheated. I am not supposed to feel withdrawal now. Everything seems very awkward and I try to throw up. Throwing up helps me feel relief, but everything tastes and smells bitter from the ibogaine. In an attempt to get rid off ibogaine's effects, I decide to cop some smack (heroin), afterwhich I feel less anxious and more relaxed, though still trippy. Later that night the effect of the heroin finishes and I lay down on the couch and fall into a dream-like half awake state.
I see myself laying on the couch, which is followed by a vision of myself as a fetus in my mothers womb. I am actually, very rapidly, going through a rebirthing process. I feel an incredible devotional love coming from my parents. This memory enables me to accept the mistakes my parents have made in raising me. For the first time I can feel respect for my parents, which shapes our whole relationship into a more harmonious reality.
Many other dream flashes appear. The next morning I awake fully refreshed, new-born and hungry as a wolf. I give my heroin away to my roommate. My boyfriend and I start to evaluate our experiences. It is as if new things keep falling into place. It's as if all information in your brain file-cabinet is shaken out of it's drawers on to one big pile, looked at "objectively" and put back in, untwisted from emotional trauma.
It takes time to realise that we're not getting sick. There is no need to arrange money to run to the dealer anymore. That time can now be used to prepare our planned trip to India and Nepal. The following days go by in an up and down rythm. One day is incredibly energetic and active; the next one is needed to relax. We both feel very positive, joyful and enthusiastic. A withdrawal never took place -just some occasional yawning and minor chills. In a normal withdrawal you need all your motivated energy to go through being sick, which burns you out completely. This time, the motivated energy is reinforced, and together with all of the visual experiences, it puts you on the path directed towards your goal.
Initially my junkie-friends were very skeptical, until they realized that my boyfriend was selling his daily portion of 65 mg methadone every day, for weeks in a row, and he was not spending his money on smack, cocaine or alcohol, but on traveling gear. Some of them thought our enthousiasm was irritating. Others wanted to experience ibogaine too and it felt very frustrating that I couldn't give it to them.
The presence of hard drugs in my environment after the treatment was not threatening in any way. It didn't seem particularly positive or negative. It just didn't matter anymore. I did use some smack to see if I would still like it, but I didn't care for the effect anymore. It actually seemed like it reactivated the ibogaine. Up until four months after the treatment I experienced colors and light very intensely. I never experienced any negative side effects, mentally or physically after ibogaine.
I've noticed that I'm not sensitive to the influence of drugs as I used to be. I lost a great deal of interest in drugs in general, because the effect of ibogaine goes far beyond their effect, though not necessarily in a pleasant way. Ibogaine is quite an ordeal, therefore I hope I don't ever need to use it again. It is not possible for me to resume the same addictive personality, unless it would be my conscious choice. Ibogaine has given me this choice. Heroin never did. Momentarily I can use any drug without being used by them.
It is through the treatment that I don't experience events in the past as problematic anymore. I experience the present with the past as reflection. The past therefore is no longer perceived as an obstacle, but as a source of collective information. The realization of the collective consciousness is a mystical, religious experience. It confirms a unity with all living beings and old feelings of separation between "you and the outside world" disappear.
ibogaine was a mental process for me, a form of spiritual purification and a truth serum. I had to experience it's results through time. It's only now after six months that I can say I'm not addicted anymore. It takes time to admit there is no way back. Ibogaine is not the solution in itself, although it takes withdrawal away completely and gave me clues that made it possible to figure out why I got strung out in the first place. Ibogaine made it possible for me to accept life on it's own terms and access the willpower inside myself that I needed to pick up where I had left off.
After the treatment I was clean for about a year. I got retreated, but relapsed in a matter of weeks as a result of lack in after-care. In that time treatments were still very experimental. As I treated many other addicts, I realised that in order to stay clean, most people need some kind of therapy. Besides a quick and effective detox, ibogaine can offer a lot of information to the underlying reasons for becoming a junkie, which can be helpful in working with a therapist. I eventually quit my addiction the "old-fashioned way," with the use of some methadone and pills. After my first treatment with ibogaine I was so impressed that I started treating other addicts. Together with Nico Adriaans and Josien Harms I set up an addict self help group and we treated many people. We learned how important it is to provide treatments in the presence of ibogaine experienced ex-addicts and to provide aftercare.
Today we are called INTASH (International Addict Self-Help) and work to establish world-wide ibogaine treatments.
Fallbeskrivning 2: Alkohol
would like to share with you my experiences with Ibogaine. The last one took place on a friday last March.
A long time before I actually decided to experience Ibogaine (for the third time in my life) I wondered a lot whether that magic name Ibogaine was my key for freedom. I was preoccupied with the terrible option that I was one of those people that can keep on trying solving their problems by taking Ibogaine but still after regaining my normal consciousness go on making the same mistakes again.
While thinking about my experiences in the past I discovered (not very quickly) that Ibogaine did for me different things at different periods in my life, and that I was making a terrible mistake by saying to myself: "Look, you already did it twice and you are still drinking like a first class alcoholic, so why bother this time? I never found it an amusing drug anyhow!". I was right and wrong at the same time, I'll explain:
Right because even after 2 Ibogaine treatments I absolutely kept on drinking too much liquor, although after taking part in some AA meetings I realised that I became a chronic alcoholic in an advanced stage (that fact spoiled my drinking "pleasure" permanently).
Wrong because the first time I did Ibogaine (Nov.93) and also the second time (Jan.2000) I took it for several reasons other than alcohol use.
Moreover, the drinking problem appeared to be not very prominent at the time of the first two treatments. I actually had serious doubts that Iboga can help me because of the fact that it hadn't prevented the progression of my potential alcoholism in the past. Obviously, this thought became my barrier - so I avoided taking the treatment for the third time for a long period.
After buying 1.6 gram of Ibogaine from a friend of mine I drove home. I realized that it wouldn't be very wise to start with the treatment at the evening, but still I was determined to do so. After explaining to my wife and a friend of mine what they could do in order to make things easier for me during the treatment, we started with basic preparations, such as darkening the bedroom and ingesting the Iboga in (4) capsules etc.
At 18:00 approximately I finally took the Iboga. I didn't experience any of the common side effects like nausea, vomiting etc. It took about 30 minutes before I started to feel that something quite different is circulating in my system. My head became heavy and we decided that it's "time to go to bed". Immediately after laying down intense metallic voices were going through my whole body, after a while those voices were replaced by more friendly sounds - a huge mosquito was flying around me from one corner of the room to the other. Those first few moments of my long journey were very familiar to me from my early experience with Iboga. Just like in the first time I couldn't even find a clue for the meaning of such a strange mosquito that appeared out of nowhere. Naturally, I tried to manipulate my thoughts by trying to "program" my trip - fortunately; it didn't succeed- as hard as I tried to resist the Iboga the more potent it became.
It really didn't matter if I closed my eyes or kept them open. I was looking into a fire, around which two black people were dancing. They would stop once in a while just to look at me for a second - they looked like they felt sorry for me and at the same time they were laughing. As my wife came to the room she asked me whether I could share with her the things that are going through my mind. I wanted to do so but it was not possible, still I asked her to lie down next to me. A few days later she told me that it was impossible to lie next to me more than a few minutes because I was constantly shaking and turning from one side of the bed to the other.
I couldn't bear the loneliness and the fear; it felt like I was knocking on hell's door, I was terrified from the information that went trough my brain. At that time I realized that my physical, mental and spiritual well-being was actually much worse than I had thought. I could look at my own brain objectively like I was reading a CT scan with high sensitivity anatomical visualization with an additional emotional dimension - my brain was a dead brain. Later on I re-experienced situations that took place at different times in my life, but unfortunately I couldn't recall even one, but as far as I know those life events "films" (like some people describe them) didn't take as long as I can remember from my first Iboga treatment. I realized that I'd reached the darkest place and at some point even began to accept the fact that my life was ending. I started to make all kind of preparations, such as who to tell to do what and in which way about my passing away. It was some kind of relief to me to know that I won't ever again take part in the confrontation with my disease - ALCOHOLISM. What would my dear wife's life be like? How could I abandon her in such way?
The atmosphere in the room was very unique - I was feeling that my body is being burned very slowly. White smoke surrounded my burned body. I felt like I was boiling in my own bed. I started to regret getting into this "last minute" Iboga charter flight. Hours later I felt so exhausted and while hoping that the Iboga will get out of my system something changed - things started to become more specific. I don't find it easy to describe. Try to imagine your personality as if it was a pomegranate, which contains kernels of emotions, values, understanding, fears, feelings, attitudes etc. Well, my pomegranate was taken apart into the smallest kernel and all the thoughts, by which I was unconsciously occupied daily, became visible. From somewhere I managed to get direct answers to many personal conflicts. The character of such "happening" is very rapid - question - answer (few sec), q-a, q-a, q-a with (almost) no end. I don't know how it works but it definitely poses a high unemployment risk for new age profession - psychologists. At that phase I realized (once again) that doing an Iboga treatment (as I see it) could be easily seen as taking part in a top sport in both a physical and mental sense.
Finally it came- the hope that life is still a reasonable option to me, BUT if I wouldn't use the insights of my Iboga treatment it won't take long to be back on liquor and my life would not end naturally.
After 23 hours I "recovered" confused and clear minded at the same time. I was uncertain whether it's possible to bridge the death-life contrast I've been experiencing and to create a practical manifestation of the optimism of all of that I've been through and understood. I fell in a deep short sleep (2-3 hours) and then woke up. I never felt better. I even looked a few years younger and most important I have not touched a single alcoholic drink since then. I have no more interest in poisoning myself with that evil.
14 weeks of sobriety may seem to a non-addict individual not much, but for me it's a different world. Nevertheless it won't be adequate to describe Ibogaine as a total solution for addiction- it's an extraordinary powerful gift for people that want to stop abuse of substances by breaking the vicious cycle (in my opinion). But whether it helps one to learn and to acquire tools for going through life "normally" is a fundamentally different question.
Most people learn from mistakes. Others learn in a hard way. Some people (like myself) will have to experience death and rebirth in order to make a significant change of attitudes and behavior.
After the treatment I did not experience any kind of physical or mental withdrawal symptoms. On the other hand, I was standing before a big assignment - building a whole new relationship primarily with myself and my loved ones, and further catching up with my career and studies. Iboga took me away from a cycle of self (-and my loved ones)-destruction. It gave me the chance to reset my existence as a human being.
Fallbeskrivning 3: Kokain
A few days before I met with Iboga, I lost my cool in a parking lot because a warehouse forklift was blocking my way. After a lot of angry hollering, all I got was: “Hey buddy, life’s too short, lighten up!” I remained pissed. I have always had a temper, an angry edge.
And I have a crack cocaine problem. My cocaine usage is a ten year old habit, and before that I was drinking alcoholically for ten years. I have been to several treatment programs, and have actively participated in a twelve step program off and on for the past ten years. Several times I was the secretary for the group. I have had several sponsors, and have tried “working the steps,” but relapsed every three to six months and went on a twenty-four to seventy-two hour binge, during which I used large amounts of crack. Sometimes I binged several times over the course of weeks. People had given up on me ever recovering.
On the morning of December 14, 1999, I took ibogaine. My sitter asked if I was terrified. “No.” I really wanted to get to the root of my addiction and heal.
To get an idea of how potent this drug is, consider that an hour after I took the pill, the ataxia was overwhelming and I was unable to walk on my own. And that was the 75 mg test dose! I took 900 mg on top of that! It was then that I felt a tinge of terror.
I was told not to move, and I didn’t want to. I heard a humming sound, much like a fan in a window. I heard everything, and sounds had echoes around their edges, as though I were in a tunnel.
It was then that I began to feel a bit afraid, and then the word “menace” came into my consciousness. I felt a menace, but there was something wrong with the spelling, for I could see the letter drifting in the darkness: M-E-N-I-C-E. Then I understood, it wasn’t menace, it was me-nice. I hadn’t “heard” it right the first time. I had the distinct impression that an intelligence was speaking to me, reassuring me. I felt safe for the entire trip after that.
Unlike other psychedelics, there wasn’t much in the way of open eye hallucinatory effects. I did see zebra pin stripes in my peripheral vision, but mostly I wanted to keep me eyes closed. The visuals were all internal, very much like dreaming. I felt as though I was actually there. The visions had a repetitive, thematic quality to them. I remained in this state of reverie for many hours.
I saw my parents, and I saw them as ordinary people, devoid of all the emotional charge of “my father,” or “my mother.” They were just people, ordinary people, with faults just like everybody else. I felt that I had been taught something extremely important that was very liberating: my parents’ job of raising me was finally complete, I saw them for who they were. And I connected with the wise, self confident adult within, my own inner parent.
At one point, I heard a soft but distinct “pop,” like what a soggy paper balloon might sound like if it were popped. Then, light shone upon my face, intensely bright. It was a pleasant but exciting tactile sensation, and then something was pulled from my face, and my face seemed to be exposed, invigorated, tingling, and alive with a joyous feeling of light shining on it. Behind me, in my memory, a thick, black squiggle, the birth canal. I was a pure, innocent glowing newborn babe, so pure, I had a distinct impression of death and rebirth, and this became a major theme in the rest of my reverie.
I went back to my childhood and relived many painful events, particularly the sixth grade where I was severely teased and jeered at by the other boys while playing baseball. I couldn’t hit the ball, nor was I good at catching it. Never had any practice with that. I was the new kid in town and it was the most miserable time of my life. I would stand out in left field and write names in an imaginary notebook, vowing through gritted teeth that one day I would have revenge. The number one name on the list was of the kid that had just hurt me the worst, and that top slot was in a state of continual updating. I suffered this day after day, for an entire year. And with Iboga, I did it again, over and over. It seemed as though it went on for five or six hours.
Finally I grew angry. I paid $2000 for this experience, and all I get is a tormenting replay of the most painful experience of my life? I was very upset. I received an answer: “You needed to learn to accept your limitations.” Limitations! It seemed I was being told that I was limited as a person because of that childhood experience. I felt cheated!
I later experienced massive grieving over what I lost in that tenth year of my life. A huge part of me had died. My self-confidence, brightness, spontaneity, and trust were all gone. Out of self-defense, I had closed my heart when I was ten years old. That wounded child remained trapped inside me and has controlled my entire life, seeking revenge, as well as relief in drinking and using drugs. Now, with Iboga, I realized the extent of my injury and I sobbed deeply off and on for a few hours.
After several hours of crying, I realized there was no one to blame for that traumatic experience in my childhood. Kids tease, and kids will be kids. For some reason I never told my folks, never asked for help. The kids who teased me would probably not have done so had they known the damage they were inflicting. The limitation is that there is no revenge to be had. There is no one to whom I can deliver it. It is over. I experienced freedom and the wounded child within, and was reborn as a wise and competent adult.
I recalled several painful occurrences of using crack, and I was appalled and disgusted by it. This happened repeatedly. Then I thought of cigarettes, nicotine, with the same disgust, and I gave up smoking five years ago. Then caffeine, also not an issue. I drink just one cup in the morning. Then milk! Of which I drink too much and should give up.
I remembered events and places from my childhood that were long forgotten, such as the layout of the buildings of my grade school, in detail. It was as though a “proof” was being offered by Iboga that would verify all the insights I was receiving.
I remembered how alive, bright, and happy I was in my earlier childhood before my tenth year, and I now reconnected with and reclaimed that innocent, loving, playful self. I was told by Iboga how short and precious this life is, and that I should cherish and revere it.
I got a lot from this experience. I regained my self-confidence and matured. I don’t seem to be a ten year old kid anymore. I am an adult, a forty-five year old man. I don’t need to prove myself, and I am not a target of other’s ridicule.
My craving for cocaine is gone, what an amazing sensation! When I think of cocaine, I conjure up the image of white rocks or powder, it is like contemplating golf balls or egg cartons- no emotional charge. No repulsion, no attraction. I have for the time being given up coffee and milk.
I can do the unthinkable, leave my wife. My desire to stay for my daughter’s sake has diminished, because I can see that much like my own parents were not the primary cause of my traumatic childhood, I am not the omnipotent influence I thought I was in my daughter’s life. It is more important for me to take good care of myself, and in doing so, I can offer more to my daughter and others I love. I have always known this intellectually, but to realize it with all my being is very different, it is an empowerment.
Fallbeskrivning 4: SSRI
The principal emotion before popping the capsule was FEAR. I laid down and tried to calm myself for the initial "overwhelming" experience that Eric had told me about. I waited for the first signs and finally detected them: numbness around my lips, tingling and heaviness in my limbs, and funny black and white fingerprint swirls in my visual field, with eyes closed. As my limbs became lighter and more tingly, they seemed to rise above the bed by about two inches. I became panicked at this point and thought to myself "This was not a good idea.." I felt that I was losing consciousness. Strange, high frequency "computer" music was playing and an instrument that sounded like a didgeridoo. The volume increased but the loudness was never too great for this constant background music that would accompany me for the next two hours or so.
There was another form of music that was wild - I thought of it as cacophony. It was like salsa music, with female voices only, increasing in pitch and frequency until they reached a frenzy, and then it stopped (temporarily), only to start again in a short period of time. This cacophony began with every disturbing thought I had and seemed to finally drown out the thought.
No colors yet. I kept searching my visual field for signs of images. Finally, a magnificent oriental carpet appeared, in deep red with black designs, and it floated in my visual field. As I examined it closely, I noticed that there were many repeated block designs in the rug (it was a prayer rug of the Tekke type). In the middle of each block, a white form appeared and grew, simultaneously with the others, into an ivory white Buddha. There were scores of Buddhas on the rug. Then 3-D faces and animals began to appear, all beautifully colored, but somewhat subdued. I saw my partner, my dogs, and other people I have known in my life. As each one appeared, it turned slowly as it floated in my visual field, until it faced me full on, and then opened its mouth and began to scream silently in terror, with eyes bulging. Then it began to age rapidly, mutate into gross distortions, and then die. As each image died, it fell away like an empty shell, as light as air, or its contours blew away like dust in a strong wind.
I did not want to see these images because they were so disturbing and had such destructive energy. At this time, I would ask Eric if he was still with me (he was), and then I would move my fingers or toes to get regrounded in my body. My voice sounded like I was talking through a tube. Eric assured me later on that I was coherent and speaking in complete sentences, but at the time, I felt silly and kept forgetting all that I wanted to say.
I decided (upon Eric's comment to me, "I think you're too coherent") to dive into the experience and surrender to it. I went in willfully and swam amongst the grotesque images, only to find that there was a boundary. As I went back to viewing my visual field, this boundary became clearer. It was a canopy of the Buddha rug, all in red and black with beautiful ivory Buddhas everywhere. This canopy would remain in my field for the entire two hour experience. If I just looked past the images, and focused on a Buddha, suddenly the entire, glorious canopy would appear. I found myself greatly amused with this constant feature. Once the canopy was in view, the original rug would float down on top of me like a death shroud. But just before it would touch, the shroud disappeared. I laughed at this trickery and seduction. I thought of the nature of impermanence.
Now I would examine every 3-D image that arose, in all of its initial beauty and color, to the end of its death, and I was at peace. The noise in the background was in contrast to this peace. The peace deepened each time I quickly focused on the canopy, at which time all of the images in the arena were simultaneously covered with the same material and detail as the canopy. The Buddha was in everything! There was not a square millimeter of space that was untouched by the Buddha. This scenario continued to be recreated, with my partner's skin looking like the Buddha canopy, or my dogs' fur composed of the Buddha canopy. I saw many other faces and wild beasts. I saw my mother choking me as a child (very disturbing), which quickly popped me back into my body. I did not resolve this image during the experience (i.e. it never attained Buddha nature). Finally the Buddha appeared so calm and serene that I felt that I could cry just upon seeing his face. Then his face contorted into happiness, then sadness, then rage, then old age and stupidity, then suffering, and finally old age and death.
The images began to diminish in color and frequency by about two hours into the trip. However, images, the rug, the canopy, etc. would continue to appear at a reduced frequency over the next hours.
Once the intense images had faded, I found myself really bothered by the music and the cacophony, which continued for many, many hours. During the first phase, and continuing into the second, I heard myself screaming indignant sentences of rage at different people (my mother, my brother, unknown faces). Each sentence was different, but they were all along the lines of, "How could you do this to me?" or "What in the world were you thinking when you did that?" Each sentence would trigger the salsa singers, who could drown out the rage, and kind of cap it off with their high-pitched frenzy. These rages were incredibly disturbing to me, but I would not understand them until later.
The other feature that was equally disturbing were these nerdy characters who were smart alecs and all had something clever to say, but it was a source of embarrassment to me. I would also not understand this feature until later.
From hours six to twenty, I felt happy about the things I had seen, but disturbed by the voices. This seemed to be a phase of reflection and remembering and insight. I realized at this time that my body will die someday but that my mind could continue to wander restless and disturbed. I tried to meditate when this thought arose, as a way of ensuring that my mind would be at peace on the day that I die.
I also saw myself in the two sets of disturbing voices/characters. The haughty, boisterous, narcissistic fool, and rageful child/adult. At first I didn't quite know what to do with these repeating loudmouths, because they were so intense and relentless. It took me many hours of reflection in reverie until finally, their voices were silenced. I have a lot more to do with this material. I am still integrating it as I write. Eric says "Embrace it. Acceptance is the key."
It was difficult riding out the long, early morning hours of processing this material. At about twenty-three hours into the experience, I saw a splash of royal blue painted over my left visual field. Following that, layer upon layer of purple-violet. This was the final end of the pictorials/colors.
I'm sure there's more to say about what I have learned, but I feel patient now, to let it arise as it will.
"The Buddha is in everything!"
P.S. I never became nauseated during the entire experience. Not even queasy. I felt hunger throughout, but allowed it to be a part of the experience, just like the dry mouth, the disappearing limbs, and the grotesque screaming figures. I was happy for this "gift" of a "free ride" with no nausea.
48 to 72 Hours into the Experience
The plant is still working on me. I find it hard to relate effectively to other people - it doesn't feel genuine. My tendency is to turn inside and process. However, there are not as many spontaneous "arisings" of thoughts, issues, etc. as there were yesterday. I am aware of a rough edge to my temper, and I continue to feel the sense of righteous indignation that I first experienced during the intense phase of the plant's effect on me. The word "righteous" has been added since Day 1. On that day, during the first two hours into the experience, it started out to be "indignant rage," which really shocked me (since it is so out of character for me). I felt overwhelmed by it then, and I wanted to attenuate it by telling myself not to be so angry. Today I am seeing the roots of this rage in my early childhood. It feels more righteous since I processed it with my therapist in session this afternoon. This was an extremely difficult session - not because of the emotions involved, but because it took me about 20 minutes to figure out how to relate to her. This was my first session since taking the drug, and there was just too much to explain to her that didn't really seem that relevant to me. Finally, we just decided to start from where I was, instead of trying to detail the entire experience. It's so hard to describe the experience to someone who has not ingested the plant.
Today I had my first meal at 2 p.m. I have been eating fruit and drinking milk and juice since about eight hours after I took the capsule, but I didn't feel the desire for a real meal until today.
I imagine that my serotonin receptors are being stimulated like crazy. There's got to be more serotonin around in this phase. I feel very much like I did when I was taking 20 mg. of Prozac per day almost two years ago. Slight headache, same pressure behind the eyes, jaws very tight, a slight stiffness in my neck, a little dizzy when I get up, etc. Also, the same locomotor "inertia" phenomenon is happening that is so typical of my experience with Prozac, i.e. when I am at rest, I want only to be at rest; when I get up and move, I stay in constant motion. I remember my favorite experience on Prozac was to lie on the floor and stare at the rotating ceiling fan (which was one reason that I had to get off of the drug). There are a million mundane tasks around the house that could keep me busy right now, if I were to allow myself to attend to them. But I am trying hard to refrain from that type of mindless busywork. It's much harder to lie down, or to sit in a meditative posture and reflect on the experience, but it is paying off. Actually, I am spending a lot of time lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling fan.. The energetic movements inside my body are phenomenal. There is a tingling just under my skin, all over my body, which actually feels quite pleasant. Periodically, I will experience huge waves of energy arising in my thighs and moving up into my chest. It's a very masculine, pulsating force. It feels quite empowering. I am rather enchanted with this energy, and I find myself attending to it in my body when I am at rest.
The experience of terror during the first hours after ingesting the plant seems much more available to me today than it did when I wrote my first entry at 29 hours. I have never felt terror like I did when I was first coming on to the plant. I wanted desperately to escape, by any means, but my thought process was being quickly overwhelmed by the plant, and I had nowhere to turn to except to go with it. I imagined that I might die. It was really horrible. The experience of my body being absolutely dissociated from my mind was so threatening. My limbs just disappeared, then my trunk and my head, and pretty soon I was left with only my mind, which was out of control. I kept moving my arms and legs, and opening my eyes, just to feel them again. (Any slight movement allowed me to experience the presence of my body completely.) Then, a few seconds after moving, the body disappeared again. I settled down and allowed the body to go only after I became adjusted to the mindfuck.. (I remember Max telling me, "Once you get it that this is what your mind is going to do, then it's like 'Ok, now I know what this is' and you can relax. There's really nothing to be afraid of".)
It was really amazing to experience the alternations between "reality" and the altered state that Ibogaine produces. The fact that I could do a reality check at any time by simply moving or talking to Eric made the entire experience more palpable, more do-able, without panic. It took me a while to figure this out. Also, since I had no nausea, I could move at any time. Once I got into the experience, it was better to not move and just be with it, no matter what was happening. This property of Ibogaine is extraordinary - to have a somewhat intact ego that can come to the forefront at any time, and then to allow the altered state to take over, to surrender to it. I suppose the periodic presence of the ego was what allowed me to reflect in such detail on the experience that I was having.
Thinking back to the first two days, the most exquisite experience that I had happened upon awakening from sleep. I slept for two hours at about fifteen hours into the experience. Then, a while later, I slept for thirty minutes or so. The sleep was deep and there were no dreams. Upon awakening both times, I was an empty room. I wasn't in an empty room, I was the emptiness of the room. There were no thoughts, there was no sound whatsoever. It was the most sublime experience of the void. Expansive awareness with no thoughts. There was so much space -- pure, empty space. What an incredible delight, particularly compared to the cacophony of the previous fifteen hours. Unfortunately, this is not happening as I awaken from sleep today. And I am sleeping on and off, mostly off.
I always thought it was kind of crazy that certain cultures worshipped and protected plants that gave them particular powers of insight or allowed them to perform unimaginable feats. Now I understand. I am having a love affair with Iboga. It works in such mysterious ways - even before taking the plant, I began to have insights from just reading about the experiences of others! It is, to date, the most terrifying and ecstatic experience I have had. All mixed in one. Today, I felt compelled to open Andrew Harvey's Dialogues with a Modern Mystic. I didn't want to read anything conceptual, I wanted some experiential material to reflect on. The book fell open to the chapter on Death and Deathlessness. I realized after reading a few pages that I was underlining every line. It all seemed so pertinent to my experience. While reading, I had the experience, for the first time, that Life is Death. I never understood this before. But Ibogaine has broken my mind open and allowed me to see: Iboga is life is death.
(Sometime in August….the plant is still working on me)
Almost from the beginning of the day, I felt a sense of spontaneity, of just letting myself create the next move without intention. Later on, when it was time to go to work, I more or less flowed with the requirements of the workday, not really thinking much about a plan or what had to be done, but just meeting the next moment with confidence and relaxed awareness.
These are afterthoughts I am reporting. I didn't reflect about my experience during the day until about 8:15 p.m., when I was riding home on my bike, surprised that it had become dark so soon. Many times during the day my body reminded me that it was somewhat fatigued, and hunger was present a few times, which was satisfied when I had the time to do so. I saw 6 clients, and worked with them without thinking about myself, or how I was doing with them, or how I was appearing to them: i.e., "I" was not doing therapy today. Something else was acting through me. On the way home some of the responses that were made to my clients were recalled. My awareness today was like being in the eye of a cyclone: the cyclone being my client's tormented selves, and the eye being my sense of stillness, and calm awareness, seeing their unnecessary, but so compelling, creations. Sometimes it was as if their creations, or neuroses, were laid out in front of "me" like a finely woven oriental rug, and "I" would calmly reach down and pick up a golden thread that was holding the whole rug together, gently tug at it, and then hand the end of the thread to the client, to see if they were able, and willing, to unravel their "acts." Some of them did, and the entire structure of the rug began to fall apart! Then after a small degree of unraveling, they would suddenly look to me as if to say: "this is scary, now what do I do?" And others quickly picked up the end of the thread and expertly wove it back into the body of the rug, all the while patting and smoothing it out, as if to reassure themselves that the rug was still solid, still able to bear their weight. More than once "I" imagined that the rug might simply take its master off on a wild carpet ride. Which it did...
And so, on my bike, I am laughing at the rug metaphor, remembering the prominence of the oriental rug that was the first pictoral in my Ibogaine experience - the rug that showed me the face and posture of the Buddha, thousands of time, hundreds of thousands of times, during the journey. There were other flashes of insight today: remembering my childhood, and suddenly being impressed with the idea that I had become a tomboy at an early age because I knew that my mother favored my older brother, so I must have reasoned in my child's mind that I was the wrong sex. And just as suddenly, the realization struck that none of what has happened to me in life even matters, because "I" don't exist! And therefore, there is nothing to punish my mother for, because "she" doesn't exist either. What freedom, what a sense of liberation! And all of these things were happening in the eye of the cyclone.
As I type, a few ants are running around on the keyboard, exiting just above the "0" and reappearing from under the "d", then quickly scuttling off to the letter "j ", around the quotation marks and off the edge of the computer. I am seeing this as whimsical, and I avoid harming them. Perhaps even a few playful ants can peacefully coexist with the musings of my mind as I attempt to translate my experience into words and images.
There are some strange things that have happened, stranger than what I have written above, because my life has not been lived from this perspective before. But these other strange phenomena are curious to me, because I’m not sure that they are real. Am I making them up? About 10 days ago I experienced what can only be described as a kind of internal electrical storm. This went on for 3 or 4 days. I heard electricity "crackling" in my head at night, and there seemed to be a series of unusual electrical events happening around me. For example, flourescent light bulbs were burning out, all the batteries in the remote controls were going dead, and the TV had a weird, very low frequency electrical sound that only seemed to be present when I was in the room. When I left the room, and viewed the TV from a distance, I couldn't hear it anymore, even though I could still hear the audio portion of what I was viewing. It felt as if there was a kind of a "charge" around me, and inside of me, which was not unpleasant, but I felt I was disturbing the environment. Perhaps I am just making this up.
Last night, I had a recurrence of an experience that happened twice during the first 30 hours on Ibogaine. I woke up and experienced myself as an empty room. No noise, no sight, no thoughts, but fully conscious and aware of the experience. It was not as intense as the times I experienced this on Ibogaine. What I mean, I think, is that it didn't last as long, and I wasn't as surprised by it as I was the first two times it happened. This seems to me to be a guidepost of sorts, a demonstration of things to come. I don't know why I think this - but it seems more than just a unique experience in itself. It is pointing to something, but I don't know what.
The coincidences that are happening with my clients are really amusing me, and making me laugh out loud when I ponder them. There are so many things that clients and I are sharing with each other that seem to indicate that we are on the same wavelength of experience. I am seeing things so clearly, and although I don't operate with so-called "skillful means" every day in my clinical practice, I am interpreting their experience in ways that I have not been able to access before. In a way, I feel kind of stupid for not being aware of these insights in the past, they seem so simple and straightforward to me now. Why have I missed all this in the past? Probably because my perceptions were colored by conventional ego, which now is being deconstructed daily. Huge chunks of "me" are being reinterpreted in this light, and, surprisingly, I am still able to function in the world. My fears are passing. But there is another layer of fear just underneath all this, because I feel that I am about to make a quantum leap into the next playing field. If only I could surrender completely to the spiritual forces that I have welcomed into my life. But perhaps I am not yet ready to have my life changed in the drastic ways that I believe will happen if I truly surrender.
The next day. About 20 minutes into the first session with a client, she says (of her troubled relationship with her ex-partner): "I think of my relationship with her like a beautiful scarf; and there is one golden thread running through it, and if I could just find the end of the thread and pull it out, everything would be fine." Internally borrowing from my metaphor of the oriental rug from yesterday, I gently remind her that if the golden thread is removed, her beautiful scarf will unravel, and her life will change in many ways. She's not too happy about this. She wants to remove the golden thread and leave the rest of her life intact. I see that she is not yet ready for the changes that will come about if she lets go of her pursuit of the ex-partner, so I gently let go. But in the midst of all this I am delighted and curious about how such a detailed metaphor could possibly have occurred to me the day before, and then to her, with absolutely no prompting from me, no allusions to it at all in the session. In fact, I had been more or less sitting there, just listening attentively to her for the first 20 minutes or so. Later on, I share the common metaphor with her in session, because she is spiritually available to hear this kind of information, and we sit quietly, in awe of what is, and wonder if there's not more to life than meets the eye.
Fallbeskrivning 5: Ibogain mot Trauman
My name is P.Q. and this is a record of my Iboga experience taken from my notes. I contacted Eric about a month after I received the articles he kindly sent about other people's accounts of using Iboga.
I very much wanted to use it as a cleansing medicine. Bob M., a person who had been working with me on cleansing the muscles through massage and other therapies, had said that my whole body was tight and holding energies throughout it. This I know. I had had several traumatic experiences and felt like I had a psychic abscess on the inside. The conversations that Bob and I had were of doing Iboga as a way of releasing this abscess. Bob had reservations about using this powerful of an herb; that it might trigger a premature Kundalini awakening.
I took it into consideration, trusted the Powers that Be and began to prepare for the healing I hoped the Iboga would do. I cleansed my house using sage and salt, and stated my intentions in the morning. That done, I took a shower using sea salt every morning for about six weeks, asking the universe for a cleansing of all the fear, anger, hate, jealousy, rage, pain, and all the other negative emotions. In the evening in bed I would ask all the guides to assist me in this cleansing and healing work. Bob continued to do body therapy on me until I left.
At the appointed time I met Eric and we began the adventure. Before taking Iboga I took a hot bath with sea salt and Epsom salts, just to relax and state my intentions. I dressed in a warm T-shirt and took the Iboga and got into bed . It acted quickly. It wasn't pleasant. The emotions I wanted to cleanse are very powerful ones and they put forth very powerful images that were hard to look at. They weren't personal images from my life. They were more archetypal images. I asked the spirit of the Iboga to cleanse me of all these emotions and I stated them. Then a gnome -like creature appeared and the cleansing began. I saw them being sucked out of my body and up a tube. Then they came out like sparkling, rainbow-like confetti . It was funny. The cleansing continued and I felt lighter. The tightness in my chest disappeared. Then I got very sick. The next day I was fine. Ready to go on. But I wasn't sure that the body had really experienced anything.
After I got home to Hawaii I scheduled a visit to Bob. He was amazed at the difference. The lymphatic system had been cleansed, the bumps in my breasts were gone and my muscles weren't tight. The memories of trauma had been removed. I was taken aback by what he reported. There had been a real, definable, physical change. It was measurable. I was very impressed. I believe - no, I know - it is a very powerful tool in healing the inner self . I would like to use the Iboga plant 2 or 3 more times to continue this type of physical cleansing. I very much want to be a healer. In order to do this type of work I would like to be very clear. I feel that clearing out the traumas and personal dilemmas life throws at you is very important before doing work in healing.
Fallbeskrivning 6: En doktor som andvänder Ibogain.
have prepared myself in the last week for this ibogaine experience. Meditated, specified purpose, etc., etc. I have prepared to die, although I do not worry that will happen. This morning I cleanse. Then, having fasted since a light supper, take two little vials of a Chinese herbal preparation, give them thirty minutes to take effect, then down the huge capsule of ibogaine (I am taking 8.5 mg/ Kg). Eric and I chat a while, then I ask her to meditate with me. After 55 minutes, I have grown dizzy, and take myself off to bed, light a candle and settle in, my emesis bag beside the bed.
My dizziness expands exponentially, and soon there is a whirling disk of light which changes the direction of its spin periodically. The big show, though, is an enormous amount of noise of all kinds -- whistling, groaning, popping, hissing, and a steady binaural beat exactly like Hemi-Sync [audio tapes designed to bring about brain hemisphere synchronization]. The beat will be present for the entire rest of the experience. During this time I am reminiscing of receiving ether anesthesia at the age of four. The induction phase had exactly the same noises, etc., as this stage, and I wonder if I will be put completely out this time as well.
And my body is doing very strange things, indeed. The whole nervous system is lighting up. Tingling, warmth, electricity, and muscle fasciculation are happening everywhere. The left side of my body feels like it’s rocking like a boat, while the right side does not. I do a whole soliloquy about seeing through a porthole, but the rest of my surrounding is darkened. The puzzle is to guess where one is by the view through the porthole, by what the scenery is out there rather than what’s inside and can’t be seen.
After what seems like a very long time when I am beginning to wonder if there will be no images, the screen of my eyelids suddenly lights up onto a beautiful sunny day. There is a male figure squatting at the top of a cliff, looking out over the ocean. Suddenly, he stands up and jumps off the cliff. As he goes into the water, his hands are extended above his head, and I leave the scene with just his hands remaining out of the water. And so with the leap of The Fool, it begins.
Then images begin -- nightmarish in quality -- much like hypnotic sleep. They are somewhat more grotesque and bloodthirsty than hypnotic sleep though. I consciously try to change these and cannot. I am now aware of the very strong separation of me, the dispassionate watcher from the proceedings. These scenes are, throughout the day, without much emotional content other than humor. Most are quite matter-of-fact. And I have a dialogue with myself throughout. The dialogue is constant.
After a while I wonder if I will be stuck in this nightmarish stuff the whole time. Then, other images start, many of them very fleeting and hard to catch. A recurrent one -- people, men, women, children, standing waist deep in water, naked. They are often ugly people, not particularly pretty or graceful and they just stand in the very dark water, with a copper sun reflecting on the water, and look at me.
This is all extremely intense as the body feelings, the noise, and the images create quite a cacophony of sensations, not all entirely pleasant. I am aware of my neck being rigid, my jaws grinding, my back arched a bit. My hands feel like they are moving, though they are not. I have some trouble with my arms and hands going numb, and move them from time to time. After a time, a pain develops in my stomach, which stays for almost twenty hours. It reaches a peak, when it feels like it could result in vomiting but then subsides a bit and just remains steady. I notice it from time to time.
The rush of images is very similar to the experience of hallucinations I had all night after my head injury from the car accident. The only difference is that those images were memories of the last 48 hours before, while these images are not memories and do have sound connected to them in a coherent way. And sound is enormously distorted, reverberating crazily around in my head, so that the littlest sound in the house sends me off on crazy excursions, fascinates me, trying to figure out what it is, which I cannot, because it’s so distorted. Any voices sound as if they’re talking too fast -- I have trouble following them.
But now I encounter what appears to be the meat of the Iboga God experience. I begin to get exercises and lessons in causality, and what I need to work on, though as they are brought up there is the sense they are being resolved at the same time. This is presented in a scene. Then, in case I missed the point, the words show up in printed form and then move to a list forming at the lower right of the picture. Before these lessons begin, I have a very real scene in which my mother is dying, I am holding her in my arms, then she dies. I am worried at this point, as it was so real, and feel I should call her, but it would be impossible for me to get out of bed or stand up, so I give up on that.
Each of these lessons is presented in such a way that every side of the question is examined; the cause, the action, and the reaction or result. This all seems to take place at hyperspeed, and though I can change certain things in these scenes at will, I can not change their content or where they want to go. They are definitely going of their own volition. These are not memories, and except for my mother, there are not any other people in any of this that I recognize. So here are some of the lessons or things I need to work on or things that were finished working on during this VERY strenuous day.
1. Give up needing to seduce (not necessarily in a sexual way).
which played right into the next lesson...
2. Give up needing approval.
3. Live in the NOW moment.
4. Give up being so hard on myself.
5. Accept growing older, becoming the crone.
This last one was particularly humorous in the way it played out. First I was in a conversation with someone and I was saying to them, "I don’t believe you didn’t...". At this point the words coming out my mouth appear in print form, and I and the other person disappear from the screen. Now the words "you didn’t" are chopped off and the other words "I don’t believe" enlarged and centered. So now I am looking at, "I don’t believe" in large letters, and must contemplate that -- I shout "But I DO believe", But the letters keep pulsing back at me. Then, the "I don’t" is chopped off and now there is just gigantic, pulsating, in my face BELIEVE. What a fun exercise.
I am amazed throughout this at the amount of self denigrating, negative dialogue I have with myself, lecturing, degrading, etc. It goes on and on -- you are so flawed, so imperfect, so unworthy, etc. That was a superb lesson to me to have revealed that inner dialogue I am long-since no longer aware of at all, and it is this inner dialogue which seems to be what will be modified after this experience. Some of the lessons above came out of my becoming aware of this constant dialogue.
I was also quite anxious, in a detached way, that for some reason the drug would not work on me. It took a long time to take effect, then I worried at each stage that nothing else would happen, thus the lesson in living the now moment. This is also a lesson, I see, in expectations, and a joke on me, as I had felt I had no expectations. But I did -- I expected travels elsewhere, past and current life memories, all sorts of specific encounters with beings and tunnels of light, etc. Instead it took me a while to settle down and see the quite real and important and transformative stuff speeding past my vision.
I receive instructions somewhere in here to take up walking again. Also some humorous physical stuff -- stomach churning noisily, then some kind of trickle coming up my esophagus which I can’t feel but is noisy -- happens several times. And swallowing is so loud (and has to be done a lot) I fear disturbing Eric at her computer in the next room.
There is a long soliloquy about the nature of things seen from a true metaphysical sense. During this time I am in wonder at the magnificent way in which this universe works -- and I am thinking, in the same kind of dialogue as a Fritjof Capra etc., of the true core of all. I see the electrons running in wiring and the magnificent structure of the human body, in all its intricate and perfect placement, such an incredible miracle how all has its order and structure. Although I have seen these things and known these words and processes, this is another kind of "seeing". I also had a whole thing about form and function -- how they really explain the shape and nature of something, but that it really holds no meaning or completeness until it is moving through space.
Also a long piece about when I say, "I can’t", I really mean I don’t want to or I won’t, and just say that in the first place.
And a very long piece about not feeling, how there is a very thin film, like saran wrap, which is lifted to capture any feelings beneath it when they occur, thus hiding them from my knowledge. I see this film needs to be removed but I have a sense that this is not resolved during this process.
There are times when I specifically try to address certain issues, like eating and sexuality, past memories, and past life issues, but the screen follows its own order and pays no attention to my directions, letting me know these things will not be brought up. Later, I understand that any glitches in these areas are results of the above six areas and if those lessons are carried out, the rest will be resolved.
My body begins to be very uncomfortable, and when Eric checks up on me I ask the time -- 3:30 -- six hours into this. The biggest onslaught is over but there continues the same pictures, etc. and enormous dizziness. I am so astounded I can observe my body quietly breathing, obviously asleep, though not paralyzed, though not really asleep, as I could open my eyes and talk to someone any time I wanted. This is like being in a lucid dream, in that one can direct the dreams somewhat, and remain fully conscious of what is going on. It is exactly like being asleep, and the heart functions and respiratory function seem also to indicate sleep, but not actually be asleep. This drug is a powerful stimulant because, as it turns out, I went all through till the next night without any sleep and without feeling sleepy. Imagine laying on a bed for 24 hours, with eyes closed, and never once falling asleep, and then getting up the following day without the slightest drowsiness (though still with a bit of dizziness).
I get up for a little while and sit in the living room, miserable with dizziness and noise and hardly able to open my eyes. But I eat a banana and a peanut butter sandwich, then go back to bed.
Throughout the rest of the experience, I spend my time reviewing current life situations, and just basically reverie -- the intensity is now gone, as are the printed lessons, etc. Really, for the rest of the time my enormous physical discomfort begins to be uppermost. I stagger to the bathroom once, then gratefully climb back into bed. I begin to suffer greatly from increasingly painful numb arms which cannot be laid in any position without angry pins and needles starting almost immediately. I try putting on my carpal tunnel splint, which only helps slightly, and then, finally, the problem just goes away.
My back and neck are very sore, as are my shoulders and hips, so I toss and turn, only comfortable for a few minutes in one position. I am afraid to take aspirin because my stomach still hurts. Even my big toes hurt where the very light covers touch them. After a very restless night I get up and eat a bit of breakfast, take some aspirin, and go back to bed for two hours, this time to sleep. When I am awake, the pain is gone, and I am clear, except for some slight dizziness. And so it ends.
Eric and I have spoken intermittently over the last two days, during this process, and it has helped me enormou
Det finns några saker jag läst om innan och sett samband mellan. Det är den här kopplingen som finns till Afrika/Afrikaner.
For about an hour I am being checked on by the person who is guiding me through the treatment. To me, his appearance now resembles a pygmy.
Bwiti-folket som använder Iboga i sina ritualer är pygmeer... Undrar om den här personen kände till det?
On the train home I see a lot of people who I experience as being "dead in the head." I feel intensely connected with black people.
I was looking into a fire, around which two black people were dancing.
Just det här med att man hamnar i en cermoni i Afrikansk miljö är något jag också hört innan. Tänker också på Tribe-avsnittet där Bruce Perry tar ibogain med Bwiti-folket och är med i en cermoni med mycket dansande.
Det är som att ibogainet har ett "växtminne" likt ayahuasca, psilocybe och liknande droger där "handlingen" är kopplad till kulturen och människorna som brukat dom förr i tiden.
The character of such "happening" is very rapid - question - answer (few sec), q-a, q-a, q-a with (almost) no end. I don't know how it works but it definitely poses a high unemployment risk for new age profession - psychologists.
Och just det här med fråga - svar - fråga - svar med intervaller på några sekunder minns jag att Psykedeliska pratade om att han upplevde under sin behandling också. Var det inte så Psykedeliska?
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