I resisted pursuing a diagnosis for ages. I did not want to accept any doctor’s ideas and conclusions, because I thought if I did they might start to become real for me in a way that would get in the way of who I was and what I was trying to do. At least that was how it felt at the time.
My life has been a strange one. I found I could manipulate the system into living in a way that allowed me to have the time to explore myself and find out who I am. But for the most part, even though some of my realisations made a difference, being in the 'real' world wasn't something I did very often. I lived the weirdest, monastic-type life, that seemed to have been happy to be supported by the State (and all the bureaucracy it involved), a partner, her family, while doing what I needed to do, with people who loved me, but who were so different to me that it made no sense how we were able to.
My partner taught me several lessons about being like this during our relationship. The first, in an almost military style manoeuvre, she left me during the night with our then 2 year-old daughter. I heard nothing and only discovered she’d gone when I woke up and found her note on the table. I can't tell you how devastating that was. It was like discovering the only people I loved in the world had died, and I went through a terrible grieving. Three long days went by, and just as I was about to go to London to stay with my friend, she called me and wanted to come back. What had died, suddenly came back to life, and for a while we were a proper family again.
I was told by a psychic many years earlier that I’d always need a solid base. I’d always need that to go out into the world. I felt the earthing my relationship gave me. I benefitted from her doing-ness, her earthiness, which she seemed happy giving me, and that left me free to experience inspirational moments during insights gained through shamanic trips into higher consciousness states, and all the writing that came from them.
In the altered state, things just made more sense to me, and I had very clear access to creativity. I could do, say, and write things. I would use medicinal plants to assist me in this.
The plants were like the combination to a lock. They opened the door to this other world and let me walk through it. Once I did, I could stay there for some time, especially if there was a good reason to do so. But when the door closed again, as it always did, I knew I'd always need the plant to assist me.
It’s different to the practice of those in the eastern traditions, who spend decades honing their ability to open their door naturally. I saw it as a kind of short cut. I can more easily open the door myself now, but the plant still helps. That’s its job. From the first time I took it, all on my own to experience it properly, I knew the value of it for me. You could say it was love at first sight.
Why this is an obsession rather than an addiction, is in not needing to get high, not looking to get out of it, but experience a reality that feels far realer than the usual one I am in. It shifted me, sometimes a lot further than I was expecting, but I was always happy to come back. I just knew I wouldn't stay away too long. There seemed to be a never-ending opportunity to be creative in a way I just wasn't able to be without it. To see the Universe in a way that just made sense. To know God.
My life has been a strange one. I found I could manipulate the system into living in a way that allowed me to have the time to explore myself and find out who I am. But for the most part, even though some of my realisations made a difference, being in the 'real' world wasn't something I did very often. I lived the weirdest, monastic-type life, that seemed to have been happy to be supported by the State (and all the bureaucracy it involved), a partner, her family, while doing what I needed to do, with people who loved me, but who were so different to me that it made no sense how we were able to.
My partner taught me several lessons about being like this during our relationship. The first, in an almost military style manoeuvre, she left me during the night with our then 2 year-old daughter. I heard nothing and only discovered she’d gone when I woke up and found her note on the table. I can't tell you how devastating that was. It was like discovering the only people I loved in the world had died, and I went through a terrible grieving. Three long days went by, and just as I was about to go to London to stay with my friend, she called me and wanted to come back. What had died, suddenly came back to life, and for a while we were a proper family again.
I was told by a psychic many years earlier that I’d always need a solid base. I’d always need that to go out into the world. I felt the earthing my relationship gave me. I benefitted from her doing-ness, her earthiness, which she seemed happy giving me, and that left me free to experience inspirational moments during insights gained through shamanic trips into higher consciousness states, and all the writing that came from them.
In the altered state, things just made more sense to me, and I had very clear access to creativity. I could do, say, and write things. I would use medicinal plants to assist me in this.
The plants were like the combination to a lock. They opened the door to this other world and let me walk through it. Once I did, I could stay there for some time, especially if there was a good reason to do so. But when the door closed again, as it always did, I knew I'd always need the plant to assist me.
It’s different to the practice of those in the eastern traditions, who spend decades honing their ability to open their door naturally. I saw it as a kind of short cut. I can more easily open the door myself now, but the plant still helps. That’s its job. From the first time I took it, all on my own to experience it properly, I knew the value of it for me. You could say it was love at first sight.
Why this is an obsession rather than an addiction, is in not needing to get high, not looking to get out of it, but experience a reality that feels far realer than the usual one I am in. It shifted me, sometimes a lot further than I was expecting, but I was always happy to come back. I just knew I wouldn't stay away too long. There seemed to be a never-ending opportunity to be creative in a way I just wasn't able to be without it. To see the Universe in a way that just made sense. To know God.
