Disruptive Heartbreak & The Pyre
Episode 08:07:2023 - Prompt: Perception
Where Perception took me…
I can pinpoint the exact moment my self-perception came into question in a profound way. I was half-way through twenty-five, living in the Berlin squat I’ve written about a few times.
I was suffering a slow-motion heartbreak. Like staring into an oncoming tornado that would undoubtedly destroy me, I had to make a move to get out of its way.
But how?
The cause of my angst was a blonde, blue-eyed Russian. He, I think, was flattered I had projected an ideal onto him.
However, his psyche was already so damaged, he said, he could only envision something awful happening to me if we were to be together.
He wanted to spare me without realizing rejecting me was already something awful happening to me.
This lovers game was short-lived, intense, and wore me down.
At a certain point, I decided to take Roseholz seeds to get some clarity.
Hawaiian Baby Woodrose is in the Morning Glory flowering vine family and it’s seeds could be purchased in any grow shop.
How was my perception changed by…
A beautiful flower that only opens in the morning?
I’ve never feared psychedelics.
My first experience taking mushrooms was accidental.
I was fourteen and traveling with my friend and her parents to Jamaica. My friend had an older brother who had let her smoke some of his weed.
She said I should see what it’s like to be stoned.
I took a few hits off a joint being passed around and felt nothing. Someone said I should try ganja bread that maybe if I ingested the marijuana, I’d feel something.
We were told to bring some soap, tampons, and t-shirts to barter with a woman in the next village. She apparently made the best ganja bread.
And so we did.
I had a nice hunk of what tasted like a scone. I noticed some bits of something baked in, but didn’t think much of it.
Within an hour, I was tripping.
The bits were psychedelic mushrooms.
Because I had no preconceived idea or expectation of what tripping should be, I had a pure experience.
And luckily, my friend followed me around to make sure I didn’t get into trouble.
Back to the Hawaiian Baby Rosewood: I bought the seeds, ground them and dissolved them in liquid.
The effect was subtle, yet perceptible.
I didn’t hallucinate at all. I felt absolutely clear. Unblocked.
Over the course of maybe 10-hours, I came to the conclusion that everything I was doing in my life at that time was a lie.
My love for the Russian. My writing, my art.
I decided to leave Berlin the next day.
For a touch of symbolism, I burned all of my work in an open BBQ pit.
No tears. No wailing.
I reviewed the material slowly before tossing it into the fire. I gave away clothes to people who wanted them. I gave away photographs to anyone who asked I spare it from the pyre.
On October 31, 1996, I flew to Baltimore where the drummer from my band picked me up at the airport.
It took many more years for me to put my life together in a way that felt truthful.
And I’m still working on it!
PS: I don’t promote micro-dosing or taking psychedelics. It’s a personal decision. I have no authority to tell you what to do with your mind or body.
YOUR TURN: I chose this theme based on my experience in the hospital system with my mom and seeing how everyone perceived her to be one way by reading her medical records. Only once they listened to her and really observed her in front of them did they SEE her.
Perception has two definitions:
the ability to see, hear, or become aware of something through the senses.
the way in which something is regarded, understood, or interpreted.
Where does PERCEPTION take you?
Share your story in 150 - 200 words.
POST IT IN THE COMMENTS SECTION.
Click the HEART when you read a post so the writer knows to read yours.
Heart = Heard.
Don’t comment on my or other people’s stories.
For more about the rules & intention of this Zine, check the About page.
Want to publish in TPYL Zines’s Anthology series?
The Zine will live on its own website (URL) separate from Substack. There are no submission or reading fees. The only prerequisite is active participation (4 post minimum) in the TPYL Substack community in a 4-month period.
The first anthology with artwork is already underway with 21 Contributors!
More info in the Forum!
Happy writing!
I never took mushrooms, or dropped acid, or even smoked weed when I was young, though my husband of 42 years enjoyed it all. Now, he and many of our friends are considering psychedelics once again - not for recreation, but to see the world, themselves, their loved ones more clearly in the time they have left - to clear away old patterns of perception and make way for the new while there is still time. But a woman I know who was widowed in her fifties took MDMA and psylocibin with a guide – her trip lasted over 24 hours. She saw her late husband, her sister and her mother who had also passed. She danced ecstatically, and wanted to stay in that place of pure joy. “Take me,” she said out loud. “I’m ready to go.” “What about your kids and grandkids,” her guide asked. “They’ll be fine,” she said. I don’t know how I feel about this.
Think it wise. The mid-day siesta as ritual. What else is there to do in peak sun? Some criticize, the perception being that everyone who participates is lazy, not ready to take on the tasks of modernity. Is there a lack of dedication amongst them, an apathy we don’t observe? I’ve invested years now as a participant. We live thirty minutes west of Granada, an hour up from the Costa del Sol. A siesta exists and continues in Spain, in southern Andalucía, where the questions are less, the in-between accessible, the answers available if you ask the right thing.