This is Going to be a Bumpy Ride…

“Attention, this is your pilot speaking. There are no Emergency Exits. There is no escape. Feel free to buckle-up, this is going to be a bumpy ride.” ~ Tito Verdaguer

In this moment, no truer words could have been spoken. This is not my first time being a passenger on this flight. There are no emergency exits, there is no “Ctrl Z.” You have made your decision and there is no going backwards. You have committed to the journey.

As my vibration begins to rise, so does my core temperature, to a borderline uncomfortable level. I must remind myself; this is why we are here. This is why we came to the sacred temple. We did not come here not to see. We did not come here not to experience. Breathe Casey. Breathe.

1.5 grams is what I have committed to. It is considered a rather small amount for a ceremony. But everyone’s sensitivity is different. I am very sensitive. Two days ago, I had 0.5 grams. Within minutes, I look up at the bamboo that provides the shelter over my head. She is breathing. I look over to an angelic painting of the Virgin Mary. Her face becomes alive and stretches towards me from the wooden plank she has been painted to. I investigate the jungle. I see the trees intertwin and become one entity. I can hear them. They are telling me that the they have consciousness. They tell me that they are listening to us. I listen to them as they talk shit about me, for what seemed like an eternity, for being a lawn-boy over 30 years ago! I am sensitive. 1.5 grams is plenty for the ceremony.

There are 8 of us in the ceremony. We are all waiting for the sun to drop and the sky to darken before we light the bomb fire. It is now twilight. The 8 of us take our candles and collectively we light the colossal pyramid of wood in the center of the temple. After the fire is lite, I lie back on the sand. I stare at the ceiling. There are many little creatures on the ceiling. These creatures look like a cross between a microchip and the robot spiders from the 1984 film “Runaway” with Gene Simmons. These little robots are rebuilding the top of temple while writing me encrypted messages. Confused, I sit up to gaze into the fire.

The fire is magnificent! A brilliant white combined with highlights of blue. Its intensity sounds like the power of a jet engine combined with the energy of the sun. I watch for what seems like hours. I am very impressed. Unlike most fires, traditional fires, this fire seemed to have another energy source other than itself fueling the fire. There is the famous saying, “it’s better to burn out than fade away.” Meaning, it’s better to put all your energy into something until it is no longer sustainable, rather than to slowly fade away and diminish your importance. This fire did neither. Fire, by design, can only survive by killing itself, simultaneously; until only ashes remain. It seems counter-intuitive. It is important for me to let this fire, our fire, know how amazing she is. So, I do.

The psilocybin is in full throttle now. I close my eyes for a moment. When I open them, I notice Martin is sitting on the bench next to me. He is smiling. I can tell he is on a happy journey somewhere. I slide over to give him some space. The bench seems to go on forever. It doesn’t. I nearly fall off it, rattling the whole bench. Martin is violently awoken. He turns to me in a very stern and matter a fact “Martin” manner and says, “why would you do that?” “What is wrong with you!” Normally, I would be very apologetic and sympathetic. But it was difficult to look at Martin. Martin’s nose was flattened, his cheeks and ears pulled back. His eyes were slanted. Martin was wearing a pair of pantyhose over his head like an amateur bank robber in an 80’s comedy film. I can’t look at him. I look at the floor. I want to laugh. I don’t want to embarrass Martin or bring attention to his silliness. I imagine there is a purpose why he put on the pantyhose to have this stern talking to me about my behavior. I close my eyes again.

I close my eyes for only a moment. Just to change the channel. I slowly and cautiously open them. Martin is back to his normal and calm demure. He appears to be back in his peaceful meditation state. The state he was in before I unintentionally jolted him back to some reminisce of “reality.” I look past Martin. I see Emma. She is blurry. I concentrate on focusing my eyes. Emma slowly becomes sharp and clear to me. Like Martin, Emma is starring at the fire in a calm and meditative manner. Her hand is resting on top of a large pure white majestic dog with the bluest of blue eyes. I don’t know how the dog got here. Did Emma bring the dog from home? She is English, so I can’t imagine it is a ‘home-dog’ situation. I have so many questions. I had just met Emma in the common area before we trekked down in the jungle to the temple. I don’t remember seeing her with a dog. I think I would remember a big white dog. There must be a logical explanation. I squint and refocus my eyes. The dog is gone. Emma’s hand is merely resting on her knee.

Tito comes and joins me on my bench. I do not look directly at him, but I can see him in my peripheral. He is wearing a kindergarten-style mask of a monkey over his head. This is not the first time I have seen this monkey. She has become a staple in our ceremonies. A common. She is so predominating that we gave her a name. Her name is “Purple, the Grape Ape.” We are not sure what “Purple” represents. All we know is that she is very interested in Tito and only Tito. Maybe she is a proprium of his own psyche. Or maybe she is his guardian. We don’t know. Ironically, Tito has never seen her. He can feel her presence. I have seen her in every ceremony. Purple and I have an understanding. Well, more accurately, I have agreed to her terms. She has three rules: don’t look for her. She will find us, not the other way around. Rule 2: never have the expectation that she will make an appearance. Rule 3: Don’t think about her. The first 2 rules are manageable. The third rule is impossible to adhere to. Even if I think “I am not going to think about Purple now,” I am still thinking about not thinking about Purple. So, I am thinking about Purple. Tito sits next to me with a “Purple” mask over his head. I am not going to look at him. I am not going to entertain their antiquated ruse. I feel like Purple and Tito are in cohorts against me. Have they teamed forces? All things considered; I don’t feel threatened. I am assuming Purple made the mask for Tito. The mask was made from paper. It was colored in with purple magic markers. The eyes that were drawn in where uneven. The mask was sewn together in the back with a black shoelace. I can feel Tito with the Purple mask, with its purple eyes looking at me. I will not stand for these childish intimidation antics! I flip my head around and look right into those purple eyes! The mask morphs into Purple’s actual head. Purple speaks to me, “it’s not polite to stare.” Purple gets up and walks into the smoke and then disappears. Maybe Tito was not wearing a “Purple” head mask. Maybe Purple was wearing a very convincing Tito body suit.

Magic happens in the smoke. I am watching Tito walk around the fire tending to it and feeding it. He passes through the smoke, on the other end, he has aged 40 years. He is hunched over. He’s a monk wearing a Kasaya. Now, a much slower and older Tito is walking around the fire sprinkling Palo Santo dust on the hot orange ambers. The smoke consumes him again reverting him back to his younger current self. He is now wearing a white button-down shirt with a black blazer over it. He resembles one of the characters from the film “Men in Black.” I watch him walk out the door of the temple. When he returns, he is very slender and about 5 meters tall. He is wearing a black top hat. He needs to lean down to get through the doorway. He walks directly through the fire. When he gets to the center of the fire, he can stand up straight for a moment because of the ventilation hole. His whole head pops out of the top of the temple. Tito does a 360-degree turn; visually exploring the outside world. He then leans down again and continues his journey. Tito sits down in his Shamanic chair and morphs back to his original self.

I stare at the fire. There is a lot that happens in the depts of the burning Ambers. Magic happens there. I look deep into the pit of the fire. I see ancient cities and civilizations birth. I watch as cities are being built into sand, stone, and mud. Centuries later, I watch the same cities deteriorate and crumble, only to be replaced by a more modern society. I watch this repeatedly. Amazing!

The ceremony began at 6:30. It is now 10:30. All 8 of us begin to return to the reality that we have spent our lives being indoctrinated into. We have been sitting next to the fire for 4 hours now, each of us having our own experience, but on a collective level. Those 4 hours, for me, felt like hundreds of years. We are all hot and sweaty. We finish the by jumping in the river for a swim! What an incredible and amazing bumpy ride!

“They bought their tickets; they knew what they were getting into. I say, let 'em crash.” ~Jack Kirkpatrick (Airplane!)