My first experience of the Peruvian Torch Cactus

Hi!

You have the pleasure of reading a 3 page tale on my first experience of the Peruvian Torch Cactus - I took it by my self in a calm, tranquil and freedom inciting environment.
Peruvian Torch

Now I’ll absorb my self into this time on the day: My parents leave the boat (which I live on, moored up along a quiet, but not private canal path) This is when I realize now is the time to finally juice this Peruvian, I have exactly 20 grams of dried cactus material, after much research my mind settles on a simple quick effective tek recipe. It involves finely grinding the cactus then boiling with lemon and water, lacking the lemon I momentarily dissolve in despair… until bursting with bright ideas I pop next door to acquire a fresh lemon, my neighbours kind; he sorts me out and I get cooking!

Now the water and cactus chips are combined and chugging away in the blender; I head to the computer to write shorthand the method/recipe. Whilst I’m there I am inspired to listen to some Tool, Mogwai and Sigur Ros, all of which I have never/ rarely listened to previously, but it seemed to add to the adventure ;)

So engrossing myself in Breaking Bad, another thing new to me, I continue this hotch-pot of junior scientific cheffery.

The call comes for me to manoeuvre my way down to the car park and help bring up the shopping, as I decant the rest of my slimy solution into a mug for drinking, it fills it up so I decide to swig enough now to make space for the rest.

DAMN this a challenge! A gag accompanies every gulp and my reflex sets off.

There’s no throwing up yet however - save that for later.

My mum comes in the door just as I wipe the pan clean (I have no qualms with them being aware of what I am consuming, nonetheless I choose not too say as it may change the way we interact together). The following load of green snot soup is consumed with a strong mix of hot ginger and honey, enjoying their accompanying flavoursome and anti-nauseating properties.

I soon have a delicious dinner to stomach - which is somewhat of a challenge and it takes my continued willpower to finish, with the feelings of my insides riding their way back up out my mouth.

Pre-purge, sitting on the bath facing the toilet feels so disgusting, so I decided it would be much nicer to let it happen outside. Once my guts flutter through my lips I feel improved, nicer, lightweight. I dance around the garden, going back inside to capture the last of this Breaking Bad episode, although that isn’t where my focus is. My sense of time feels normal, however, upon looking at the clock, almost 2 hours have passed since finishing the drink and it seems so short. The movie is involving, Bolt, but my attention is elsewhere- somatically it is orgasmic my skin feels so comfortable around the frame of my body whilst the brightly coloured new cushions now seem to absorb me completely.

Instantly I have that moment – the split second where the drug overcomes/ becomes me, and I realize with a spine tingle - the high has hit. My vision increases sharply, all sights are delicately detailed, every definition is captured by my minds natural camera. I breathe deep and it seems to fill my lungs as my body expands, so does my soul. Every emotion and sense is intensified tenfold.

My cabin on the boat contains a newly fitted atmospheric light bulb with vibrant varying colour patterns that travel on to the roof of the room and now being the first time I used it is WOW! Powerful consuming colours absolutely awe me. I end up enthralled, mesmerized, to enhance this I then throw my headphones on and test out Tool. They take me to another zone, eyes closed and I go into a world of swirling vines, everything spreading and connecting like veins on leaves and nerves through the body. My brain is breathing, swelling and contracting, like a runners muscle. I feel as if I’m a computer screen - observing the scenes that ski across me. Opening my eyes is attractive, enhancing the colours and visual vibrancy, though in closed eye mode the mind is writing it’s own script.

Sometime later I feel a desire for change, therefore I take myself outdoors as I have heard about the amazing empathic connection with nature, I’m that way inclined normally so with any addition I thought to be thoroughly thrilled.
Peruvian Torch

Apparently not, it appears to be less adore; more explore. Before long I folly from the garden into my “hut”, this is more of a home, a small hexagonal shed centred round a tree, so I go inside, find myself a comfortable position leaned up aligned with the trunk and breathe in to a meditative state. My mind flashes through tales and scenarios, it gets a bit introspective and personal where I question things about myself. Then at other points there are intricate visuals, colourful concepts and almost tangible flitters of sound and pulsating patterns.

One moment I’m transported in to the desert plains of Native America and being instructed by Indians on understanding the mescaline connecting with me and how to respect and treat it correct, then in seconds we are gearing up together and arming ourselves for war. As the tales of my mind are grabbed and ran with I find the battle is between the good/ bad, happy/ sad, positive/ negative sectors inside of my mind. They fight like two liquids within a yin and yang whirlpool. The conclusion as they emulate each other exposes itself as being that neither team may beat the other when they are one of the same force.

Eventually I feel a completion of the cycle and prepare my self to return inside at this time I decide to have a shower, from past knowledge I’ve found showers usually take me out the head-space of a trip and bring about a bodily baseline… but that’s not the case with this one. However when I exit the wash I definitely went back to bass-line with my headphones resuming position upon my head!

The shower has me ecstatic, energy pulsing through me like electricity, senses bursting furiously, the darkness enhances the visual whereas the physical stimulation simultaneously distracts.

When I step out it feels as if my time in this trip has been since the beginning of human evolution and we are now progressing rapidly. I’ve reached a plateau, table topping across sanity, the imaginary and reality blending in to skewer of fantastical feverish feasts from my minds eye to eat. I fall through my bed; lay back, eyes closed, content without headphones. This doesn’t last long, I feel a slight chill so I pull up my covers, and still I can’t seem to keep comfortable. The strength of the trip is fully controlling, my emotions are almost dripping away - I fail to recognize any sense of self; there are desires but distraction lets them drift away from my focus. There are thoughts but these are also feelings at the same time; there are feelings I almost comprehend, before they waft into knowledge.

As I sink deeper into my reverie of repletion, repeating ideas and universal truths through & through, until they almost become cliché’s. It’s saddening and uplifting all at once. I can’t get my head around it, although my head feels so omnipresent, in and around everything else. This moment I have awoken like a dolphin soaring free from the deep, dark sea and it all makes sense to me. Despite that I know I’ll fall back underneath new waves when my trip is over.

I resume the musical absorption state again. This time allowing Mogwai to “Take Me Somewhere Nice” and the related videos bring me through more realms with their titles provoking channels of flowing thoughts and gripping visions.

There is a moment when I eventually recognise a hint of logic, regularity and sense being regained in my head and I feel sane again, somewhat.

Not quite totally as I pick up my pad attempting to pass my thoughts onto paper with my medium of rhyme. I keep getting lost in overhearing music from my mum’s TV program- some sort of period drama- sparking images of fabulously grand ships, elegant regal dress and formal upright conduct. These behaviours aren’t imprinted on my character just yet, as they do appear in my manner latter.

On the paper with music emerging from my mother’s show, my hand moves in patterns and shapes, moving to and matching that of the soundtrack.

The ‘meaningless’ lines, curves and spots appeared as fascinating works of art, taking on the shapes of what ever stories my mind decides to begin concocting. Sporadic lines denoting a deeper meaning than mere words can dryly describe.

I consider how upset I am, that my emotional expressional method is something so single-lingual, so un-understandable, it is a clamping constricting technique and I beg to free my self and be released of these meagre chains.

Now I can paint a picture like Picasso but only during this moment with my perspective enhanced to see the most incredible imaginable in everyday natural.

In retrospect I did continue this reverie for quite a while before I went outside to attain deliverance into level-headed controlled consciousness.

At least that was the plan; amidst the darkness I sit strumming upon a Ukulele feeling like a guitar-holding re-sculpting of “The Thinker”. This state of play is humoured for a while - the strings reverberate through me and raise my vibe, the pure sound plucked out of this little instrument is elating, elevating, even despite it’s non-tuning and lack of any playing skills, so far.

Peruvian Torch
Eventually I snap out of it and revamp my self in preparation for the almost fear, I mean atmosphere of being back inside with my parental. I find some appropriate clothes, practically pyjamas, and explore the garden once more barefoot to firmly and affirmatively find myself grounded again. It works as I take a step into the hut sit down, swipe the earth off from my feet. I have a feeling I hear reality welcoming me back here (OK, so maybe I wasn’t all the way there). As I drop back inside, another interesting movie (the Island) is about to begin so I prepare for comfortable viewing and let my self observe someone else’s journey of freedom.

Overall this experience fluctuated in waves, generally an inviting, exciting and pleasant internal exploration, with high notes an octave beyond in the physical realm. Mescaline is intensively internal and introspective, also allowing an embrace of external entities, whilst not being bogged down by the darker parts, which were, at times, thoroughly thought-provoking, and imperatively transient.

There is such a touchy-feely element to this, but again, not so much externally, more like tendrils of ecstasy stretching through my body, while music makes my skin convulse, shimmer and dance.

By far the most balanced experience I have had yet, chiefly pleasant (Apart from the drinking!) and afterwards I was left with a sense that I had won wars. I could consider the event complete and was chuffed by this, but on the other side there’s underlying depths, carrying dense heavy energy.

FIN :)

Peruvian Torch