There is one experience that seems to be almost constant in the state of a trip after taking a dose of LSD or some other substance. It’s that of an inner knowing that there is a potentiality to get lost inside the mind. Or rather, one could find contentment being lost in the abyss of the bliss that unfolds when you are exposed to another realm of sensation. I have heard this said from others who have experienced this phenomenon. And that is what it was like for me after I dissolved an LSD tab on my tongue.
Over the last couple of years, I have been drawn to the stories of psychedelics. Michael Pollan’s How to Change Your Mind influenced this trajectory of intrigue with psychedelic substances. This past April, Jack Call, author of Psychedelic Christianity and Life in the Psychedelic Church, told me that it would be a great experience. Over the last year, I have had guests on my podcast who have shared their psychedelic stories and the intrigue only grew for me.
I decided to take the plunge into a deeper consciousness. I unwrapped a tiny square from a piece of foil and placed it on my tongue. Within an hour, I started to feel everything, including the overwhelming sensations of my face. It’s all I could focus on for a moment—how my face felt. It was an extraordinary sensation that made me want to laugh, cry, and sit in reverence all at the same time. The laughter leaked out of my eyes in such a way that every droplet, every molecule of salt and moisture, every tear electrified my face. To be honest, I cannot remember the last time I felt that free to be full of laughter. I mean, in the last 9 months, there sure hasn’t been much of a reason to laugh about life.
It was like a new form of prayer rose to the surface. One that I hadn’t contemplated before. That laughter and joy could actually represent my unspoken prayers. Typically, the tears that flow from my eyes are tears of sorrow, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of nothingness circulating in my blood. But that evening, my tears of laughter, the comedy that I saw in everything that was said—it was a cleansing ritual that I will treasure forever.
There was an overwhelming presence of snakes during my trip. Oddly, it didn’t scare me, it seduced me. I saw snake eyes—everywhere I looked in the pockets of my mind. I felt as if I was shedding layer after layer of skin that no longer served its purpose. There were many scenes flashing in my mind that depicted purple and green snakes slithering around but it was comforting. A few nights before, I was asked what I wanted to see during my trip. I said I wanted to see how vibrant my reality was and that I wanted to be exposed to the truth of my surroundings. I was very mindful to free my mind of anxiety, worry, fear, and whatever other clogs I felt tangled within. And so slowly, the snakes untangled in my mind. The colors poured out of those snakes and wrapped me in a beautiful new skin of sensuality. Every touch was a new high that awakened every inch of my skin.
I felt free to express what I was thinking. Typically, I craft my words carefully when I want to express what I am thinking. I am articulate, verbose, and very logical when I want to voice my feelings. But that night, everything rolled out with no hesitation. I was not concerned about how another would react or respond to my words. But curiously, most of my words were received with love and understanding, and a lot of laughing because it is indeed difficult to articulate an acid experience when the words no longer serve the experience. In actuality, words mean far less than they did that evening. Even now, my opinion seems irrelevant in many regards. I find myself asking “Do I care to retrieve emotions for this piece of information that has been presented?” The answer is “no.”
Of course, the erotic component of this experience is the most fundamental for me. Somehow, this lovely little tab erased all the anxiety and confusion I have been dancing around in for the past few years. The trip revealed to me that I already had all the answers to all the questions I have been asking of myself. This past year, I have been wrestling with the ethics of eroticism, the moral constructs that make up our societal erotic regulations, and of course, attributing whatever I conclude to a theology of eroticism. This is not an easy task. I suppose this should be obvious considering the lack of erotic theological discussions our society has been exposed to. Nonetheless, those worries are behind me. Or rather, those worries were dissolved as quickly as the tab on my tongue.
There is intoxicating freedom that comes by way of this experience. I laughed, I cried, I danced, I stuffed my face with endless amounts of food, I spoke freely, and not once did I concern myself with what others would think about my path of thoughts. It was as if I were in the safest space I could find: my mind. And isn’t that funny? Most of us are afraid of what the mind will reveal. I think that’s why we stay in boxes and cling to labels. It seems safer than daring to say or think about what we really want to. Conformity is condoned while diversity is condemned, diversity of thought, anyway.
Although this experience opened my eyes to deeper truths, one thing lays dormant but obvious that I have not yet to decipher: hunger and thirst. I was incredibly hungry and so thirsty that I thought something bad was happening. I could not stop eating. I wanted to eat everything. I wanted to feel every form of malleable and delightful textures in my mouth. Just as I wanted to touch everything and feel every touch against my skin, my mouth had a hunger to feel every sensation like new.
Perhaps it says much about the internal hunger that we seek to satiate. The God-sized hole that will never be filled in this life. Knowing that there is an unquenchable thirst, and an insatiable hunger is actually a great motivation to experience life in the fullest capacity. It leaves us content with the uncertainty. Once we embrace that truth, we can move forward to unveil the other truths that wait for exposure.
I’m still processing a lot of what I experienced on that evening. Every day, I shed another skin and come to a fuller realization. The lingering colors and sensations rise back up and overwhelm me with a sweet and fulfilling sensation that the path I am on is the path where I belong.
Feel like I’m drifting
A simulation of sensation maximized between my thighs.