The Trip

My emptiness has always been about being adventurous and reckless. A feeling of adrenaline that fills our veins, and an enjoyment in the curiosity of the world. The way we freely walk when these tiny creatures crawl into our brains, and their enchantment of the new world we have entered.

We could find these magical beings in the wild, growing in bunches or growing in isolation. Most prominently, they are found in the Mexican State of Oaxaca where even children can be found indulging in this ancient tradition.

The Aztecs believed it to be the flesh of the gods, referring to it as teonanácatl. They were used to produce a trance and communicate with the gods themselves.

Religion is not my faith, but tonight, I shared a space with the gods. My agnostic ideology is the reason for my spirituality and my indulgence in this social immorality.  

I sat as the passenger, snacking on the grey dried fruit. I ate the head first, followed by the stem and the taste of dirt released itself on my taste buds. The drive was 20 minutes, and halfway there, the world became misty and my head turned into its reflection. It shifted with each pothole my tires filled.

Although impaired, music was my salvation, and reflection was my meditation. The music of Cuco ran through my body as it shivered and twitched with each beat of sound that entered my ear. My ear drums received the music with joy and began to be distributed throughout my body, causing my hands and feet to move with the rhythm. My brain in arousal, but my thoughts did not sway.

The melancholic vibes caused me to think about my future, where I want to be what I want to do how I’m going to do it where would I start who would I do It with. My mind rapidly moving as I continued munching on the food of the gods.

I was alone arriving to my friend’s house. They greeted me, and they were physically there, but I was in a different dimension.

We walked upstairs to my friend’s attic, and It took them a while, but they soon joined me as we heated some water and dropped the fruit to create a tea. I’ve always been one to listen, but tonight, I was a fountain, unleashing information and dreams, squirting the room with my voice. As I spoke, I commanded attention, and as I commanded attention I surveyed the room. My friends. One laying on the couch, thumping his foot to the rhythm of the music, and the rest of them fixated on me as if I were their priest.

They followed my lead they followed my thoughts they followed my ambition. We took a sip of our god like tea, all of us this time, and the world shifted once more.

This time colors became more vibrant giggles filled our tummies as the butterflies laid their eggs in our stomachs. The walls, once a dull white, now began to shimmer with gold. My eyes pixelized each object in the room and each colors’ hue began to change. Reds stabbed my eyes and greens filled my heart. As the eggs grew inside of me, euphoria filled the emptiness. The corner of my mouth slowly began to rise, and with that rise, the talking began. I was like a sermon focused more on myself than others.

As the words launched themselves out of my lungs, the room swayed as it sat in the ocean. The serenity of the music we played cause my body to unravel with happiness, and my body felt the breeze and aquatic life.

I was in a state of trance and self-realization. With euphoria came sorrow, but it was a delightful sorrow. My brain expanded and realized the lack of my work ethic. The world was at my fingertips only if I wanted it. But I didn’t want it. Not enough at least.

My eyes traced my hand down to my fingers. I saw a small world conquered by myself, and then my eyes turned its gaze to the floor, where the pattern of the tile came to life and slithered away past the bodies on the floor, all speaking with the gods. I myself among those gods continued to walk around, creating a bubble for myself. The Tv entertained us with melodies, and to the right of it, the attic walls confided us to our world. This thinking space was the origin of my euphoria, I felt invincible, but with it came fragileness. The slanted wall beside the Tv pushed me to the opposite side, where I met the couch, thin and as fragile as my invincibility. Before I could meet this reflection, a small table, where our spirit juice sat, stopped me. I walked around it, once more making my bubble bigger, and opening up this creative space.

My muscles began to ache from the movement, so I fell onto the couch. The music changed. A little more vulgar now. We all felt the shift, and my body sank into the couch, deeper and deeper with each second that passed. My consciousness faded as the music continued to come alive.

She was red, dark as blood, but her touch was gentle. A soft feather falling atop of my hands, and she walked up my forearm until she reached my neck. It was a soft gentle touch which gripped hard on my skin. The music got louder. She brought life to the couch, and I felt its frame crawl up the side of my neck, with each inch it curved itself along the roof of my mouth. The beat now faster. She continued to bring her hands into my mouth, and I felt it devour me alive. She was ruthless and that gentle touch I once felt was gone now. I choked on wood and vomit, but when the music shifted, she became dormant as I returned to consciousness.

I did not look back. I quickly got up and walked outside only whispering it to the rest of the group as they followed. Going down the stairs, the dimension turned from 3D to 2D. Each step like the last and the last step felt like the first. As I reached the humid refreshing air, I felt animated once more. The trip continued, and the ambition regenerated inside my body and reenergized the night. The moon, hollow in the night, glimmered down on our souls as we continued to laugh the night away. Each memory wishing for a residency, but only a few achieving it.

I reflected.

The gods are among us. They are neither real nor fake. They are not physical, and they are not unique. We have our own gods just how we have our own demons. The food which we call of the gods is not for them, but for ourselves. Perhaps, we are the gods, and they are just our imagination. Throughout the night, my mind ran marathons, never in a circle, and always moving forward. Towards the end, I longed for more, but the gods said it was enough.

When I began to drive home, the street lights danced beneath the moon, and the trees followed the rhythm of the wind. I felt enlightened and prepared to tackle anything. Although long, the drive was sensual and charismatic. I felt looked down upon, but not in shame or disgust, but with power and dignity. I felt watchful eyes and hopeful eyes casting a light on a path. And for the first time, I believed in destiny.

Even if it was for a night.

We ingested the fruit of the gods and became them ourselves.

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