Thursday, 2 July 2015
Ayaushka
Ayaushka
The panacea of the South American shaman is a brew of two plants that has been used as far back in to history as records go. Unlike western medicine the ayaushka can be taken by the seeker of medicinal benefit or by the shaman. This is because it is the magic caused that is the cure. It is often described as the most powerful hallucinogen known to man. It is also a purge. Projectile vomiting and diahorea usually occur as all poisons are expelled from the body. Those who choose to use it must avoid all drugs, any fermented substance from beer to Worcester sauce. Fasting is recommended but most of all one must enter the experience physically well. Banisteriopsis caapi is an MAOI and is referred to alone as ayaushka. This is boiled along with psychotrias verdis, though many other plants can be used and each shaman has their own recipe. This contains DMT however if taken alone has no psychoactive effect. The stomach is temporarily prevented from disposing of it by the yage or caapi. How the Amazonian people hit on this combination is a million to one chance. They say the plants gave themselves to the people. The brew contains the powerful hallucinogens. If you read the previous link it will give a fairly comprehensive explanation. This is no toy. No drug to take for kicks. This is first hand religious experience and most often life changing. Though the ingredients are legal it is not recommended one takes a journey into the other world, the real world or the spirit world, without an experienced shaman guide. In the last twenty years it has become fashionable for experience seekers to travel down to South America for the ayaushka purge. This respect for Amazonian religion and medicine can be a healthy thing however in recent years, crappy shamans with two or three years experience are taking tourists money. Shamans traditionally would apprentice for twenty years before claiming to have sufficient knowledge to take a person through such a significant experience. There are hundreds of plants to learn, hundreds of beings from healing spirits to demonic spirits that a good shaman should know.
Last week, in a million to one chance, the possibility came my way. This is as close to a gift from, who knows where or what? Me and two freinds had planned a trip to Peru to take part in an ayaushka ceremony. We are, however, without funds. The ayaushka God handed me this chance. It will require study and practice, a correct setting and a good carer to look after us. Someone like us. Steeped in years of psychedelic experience. Recent studies have blown away the myth that there is any connection between mental illness and psychedelics. Indeed, now studies have begun again they may be our best medicine to cure depression, addiction, fear of death, any rutted thinking disorder.
We, some say arrogantly, consider ourselves English shamans. Following in the hidden history of British witchcraft, we began taking Liberty caps, psylocibin in our youth. I did well over 1000 mushroom trips between 14 and 19. We all took many LSD trips. Our grounding in psychedelia continues to this day where, during the last few years we have been using the advanced lysergics. For a time LSZ was legal, as was AL-LAD. Both exciting new lysergics. More recently, since these were idiotically banned despite not a single reported bad experience by a governments utter stupidity, 1pLSD has been the only legal lysergic. Of course many others choose to track down many rarer hallucinogens online but these are illegal. PRO-LAD, ETH-LAD, DOC but can all be bought on the dark web as can LSD25. My point is, though our experience of ayaushka is nil, we have been experimenting with hallucinogens for 25 years. The concerns and societal ills in Britain are different, the community problems, the mental health problems, the depression epidemic, the addiction epidemics, the succumbing to a mundane and blinkered world view where the beauty of nature is lost to insurance policies, pension schemes, exhaust fumes and overwork, all quite different to Peru or Brazil. Aren't we more equipped, though self taught, to use our knowledge? For sure, with little heritage to draw on we stumbled in to our shamanic roles. Perhaps it took us 35 years instead of 20 to achieve our knowledge base. But, it should be remembered that amongst anthropologists there is no agreed upon definition of a shaman. They argue as achademics do, standing at the side of the disco, watching, studying the dance but never brave enough to take part, that we are not true shaman. It could be correctly said that shaman is a role or title bestowed on an individual by others, this I accept and use the term loosely. Strictly speaking we are shamanic witches, followers of the culture who speak out fellow shamans when we need medicine. Yet we too help the sick of soul. And we enter other domains to find cures for mans ills. Just how do we differ? I am not so sure a Peruvian boy raised here would have done different from us. Besides, the demons and spirits of modern Britain are far from those in the jungle.
I argue we are the true new shamans of England and it is our duty to help a people, a culture that is very unwell. What have we to lose? Travel to a three year fraud or back ourselves and our thirty five years training. Much of it was challenging, taxing, soul searching, but we've had the grounding on this soil. In this land. Our consiousness is connected to the native Laura and fauna of our own lands. It is our destiny and our duty. We shall research. Take all medical and spiritual precautions. Yet we boldly embrace this journey as the crowning of our lifetimes work and dedication.
Sent from my iPad
The panacea of the South American shaman is a brew of two plants that has been used as far back in to history as records go. Unlike western medicine the ayaushka can be taken by the seeker of medicinal benefit or by the shaman. This is because it is the magic caused that is the cure. It is often described as the most powerful hallucinogen known to man. It is also a purge. Projectile vomiting and diahorea usually occur as all poisons are expelled from the body. Those who choose to use it must avoid all drugs, any fermented substance from beer to Worcester sauce. Fasting is recommended but most of all one must enter the experience physically well. Banisteriopsis caapi is an MAOI and is referred to alone as ayaushka. This is boiled along with psychotrias verdis, though many other plants can be used and each shaman has their own recipe. This contains DMT however if taken alone has no psychoactive effect. The stomach is temporarily prevented from disposing of it by the yage or caapi. How the Amazonian people hit on this combination is a million to one chance. They say the plants gave themselves to the people. The brew contains the powerful hallucinogens. If you read the previous link it will give a fairly comprehensive explanation. This is no toy. No drug to take for kicks. This is first hand religious experience and most often life changing. Though the ingredients are legal it is not recommended one takes a journey into the other world, the real world or the spirit world, without an experienced shaman guide. In the last twenty years it has become fashionable for experience seekers to travel down to South America for the ayaushka purge. This respect for Amazonian religion and medicine can be a healthy thing however in recent years, crappy shamans with two or three years experience are taking tourists money. Shamans traditionally would apprentice for twenty years before claiming to have sufficient knowledge to take a person through such a significant experience. There are hundreds of plants to learn, hundreds of beings from healing spirits to demonic spirits that a good shaman should know.
Last week, in a million to one chance, the possibility came my way. This is as close to a gift from, who knows where or what? Me and two freinds had planned a trip to Peru to take part in an ayaushka ceremony. We are, however, without funds. The ayaushka God handed me this chance. It will require study and practice, a correct setting and a good carer to look after us. Someone like us. Steeped in years of psychedelic experience. Recent studies have blown away the myth that there is any connection between mental illness and psychedelics. Indeed, now studies have begun again they may be our best medicine to cure depression, addiction, fear of death, any rutted thinking disorder.
We, some say arrogantly, consider ourselves English shamans. Following in the hidden history of British witchcraft, we began taking Liberty caps, psylocibin in our youth. I did well over 1000 mushroom trips between 14 and 19. We all took many LSD trips. Our grounding in psychedelia continues to this day where, during the last few years we have been using the advanced lysergics. For a time LSZ was legal, as was AL-LAD. Both exciting new lysergics. More recently, since these were idiotically banned despite not a single reported bad experience by a governments utter stupidity, 1pLSD has been the only legal lysergic. Of course many others choose to track down many rarer hallucinogens online but these are illegal. PRO-LAD, ETH-LAD, DOC but can all be bought on the dark web as can LSD25. My point is, though our experience of ayaushka is nil, we have been experimenting with hallucinogens for 25 years. The concerns and societal ills in Britain are different, the community problems, the mental health problems, the depression epidemic, the addiction epidemics, the succumbing to a mundane and blinkered world view where the beauty of nature is lost to insurance policies, pension schemes, exhaust fumes and overwork, all quite different to Peru or Brazil. Aren't we more equipped, though self taught, to use our knowledge? For sure, with little heritage to draw on we stumbled in to our shamanic roles. Perhaps it took us 35 years instead of 20 to achieve our knowledge base. But, it should be remembered that amongst anthropologists there is no agreed upon definition of a shaman. They argue as achademics do, standing at the side of the disco, watching, studying the dance but never brave enough to take part, that we are not true shaman. It could be correctly said that shaman is a role or title bestowed on an individual by others, this I accept and use the term loosely. Strictly speaking we are shamanic witches, followers of the culture who speak out fellow shamans when we need medicine. Yet we too help the sick of soul. And we enter other domains to find cures for mans ills. Just how do we differ? I am not so sure a Peruvian boy raised here would have done different from us. Besides, the demons and spirits of modern Britain are far from those in the jungle.
I argue we are the true new shamans of England and it is our duty to help a people, a culture that is very unwell. What have we to lose? Travel to a three year fraud or back ourselves and our thirty five years training. Much of it was challenging, taxing, soul searching, but we've had the grounding on this soil. In this land. Our consiousness is connected to the native Laura and fauna of our own lands. It is our destiny and our duty. We shall research. Take all medical and spiritual precautions. Yet we boldly embrace this journey as the crowning of our lifetimes work and dedication.
Sent from my iPad
Wednesday, 1 July 2015
Where did it all go?
Where did it all go?
Days we spent, talking shite and doing nothing much
I recall, a lad called Woody from school, was first of those to go on a crappy little motorbike
John Bellhouse next, he hung around with our gang
Rode a 250 but earned some cash in Kent
He bought a new 500 and died that very day, his head mashed in on some street barrier
But then the close ones started, the boys from my closest circle, why did God single us out so bad cause I didn't think we were really naughty
I lived with Wid in Kent, then I lived with Wid in Leeds, a gentle boy from wetherby who somehow thought he had problems.
He drank a bit too much, but less than I've done many years
Doctors prescribed him diazepam and temazepam we called him the rattling man
He had shallower depressions than myself and I could always drag him out
When he fell against the upstairs window I thought he'd cut himself bad
We'd fire blue tack pellets from an old air gun that bounced from his many layers
I moved down south, he met an older girl with a taste for brown
Next I heard he'd cut his wrists and bled his life away in a bathroom cupboard
He was like a brother, a younger kid I felt I should always be able to pull up.
Animal, a biker turned up in Cornwall where we all lived in a crammed cottage
He liked his ariel huntmaster, he liked drinking beer, and he loved his girlfriend
He was an older brother, carried my new girlfriend out the pub to tell her to treat me good
He went away to study some advanced engineering and came back to find his best mate and his bird together taken over his home
So we walked the streets getting drunk, he wanted to get a gun, but I talked him out of that, and we crashed out at Brian's
On a group excursion to France, he took a bike out for a spin, forgot the roadside rules and went headfirst in to death
His biker funeral was impressive, I set next to Brian on the coach down
Brian became a scrap man with a closet speed addiction
His bird met another so he waited for him with a hammer, CS gas and a knife, stabbed him over 50 times
Richard met him in jail, he asked if his ex had been in touch, he said he'd do her too
Twelve years later on his first week out he was run down dead by a London bus
There were several others overdosed, Win being one of the first, an older friendly hippy.
Rufus who I'd known since scouts and primary school one of the last.
Turps could never drink, it turned him in a cunt
Then I heard he'd been deported from Holland and was living homeless on the streets of leeds
I'd known him since I was 14, lived with him at 15 when I left home
He died from an overdose in St George's crypt homeless hostel
There's so many I forget, but Martin was one of my closest freinds since 9
He never liked leeds but we travelled and had some laughs
He landed a new job, to celebrate he took a hit round Richards house and never came awake again
Richard was my closest freind, he could be knobhead
And he fell in love with a girl who didn't care who bled him dry till he drank and shot so much gear in to his groin he toppled down dead. Such a bright star in his youth.
They all were.
Ten of my closest circle, all dead by fourty, some by thirty, some by twenty.
What did we do to deserve that?
I still think of you. My best freinds are mostly dead.
Sent from my iPad
Days we spent, talking shite and doing nothing much
I recall, a lad called Woody from school, was first of those to go on a crappy little motorbike
John Bellhouse next, he hung around with our gang
Rode a 250 but earned some cash in Kent
He bought a new 500 and died that very day, his head mashed in on some street barrier
But then the close ones started, the boys from my closest circle, why did God single us out so bad cause I didn't think we were really naughty
I lived with Wid in Kent, then I lived with Wid in Leeds, a gentle boy from wetherby who somehow thought he had problems.
He drank a bit too much, but less than I've done many years
Doctors prescribed him diazepam and temazepam we called him the rattling man
He had shallower depressions than myself and I could always drag him out
When he fell against the upstairs window I thought he'd cut himself bad
We'd fire blue tack pellets from an old air gun that bounced from his many layers
I moved down south, he met an older girl with a taste for brown
Next I heard he'd cut his wrists and bled his life away in a bathroom cupboard
He was like a brother, a younger kid I felt I should always be able to pull up.
Animal, a biker turned up in Cornwall where we all lived in a crammed cottage
He liked his ariel huntmaster, he liked drinking beer, and he loved his girlfriend
He was an older brother, carried my new girlfriend out the pub to tell her to treat me good
He went away to study some advanced engineering and came back to find his best mate and his bird together taken over his home
So we walked the streets getting drunk, he wanted to get a gun, but I talked him out of that, and we crashed out at Brian's
On a group excursion to France, he took a bike out for a spin, forgot the roadside rules and went headfirst in to death
His biker funeral was impressive, I set next to Brian on the coach down
Brian became a scrap man with a closet speed addiction
His bird met another so he waited for him with a hammer, CS gas and a knife, stabbed him over 50 times
Richard met him in jail, he asked if his ex had been in touch, he said he'd do her too
Twelve years later on his first week out he was run down dead by a London bus
There were several others overdosed, Win being one of the first, an older friendly hippy.
Rufus who I'd known since scouts and primary school one of the last.
Turps could never drink, it turned him in a cunt
Then I heard he'd been deported from Holland and was living homeless on the streets of leeds
I'd known him since I was 14, lived with him at 15 when I left home
He died from an overdose in St George's crypt homeless hostel
There's so many I forget, but Martin was one of my closest freinds since 9
He never liked leeds but we travelled and had some laughs
He landed a new job, to celebrate he took a hit round Richards house and never came awake again
Richard was my closest freind, he could be knobhead
And he fell in love with a girl who didn't care who bled him dry till he drank and shot so much gear in to his groin he toppled down dead. Such a bright star in his youth.
They all were.
Ten of my closest circle, all dead by fourty, some by thirty, some by twenty.
What did we do to deserve that?
I still think of you. My best freinds are mostly dead.
Sent from my iPad
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)