I really hope I don’t lose any Christian followers here, assuming I have any. With only 122 followers total, I can’t afford to alienate to many of you. Not trying to ridicule Christians, at least the small percentage whom aren’t MAGA , at least not at this exact moment. Thanks to the very select 122 of you, for following my blog. You are all very special people with an uncanny sense, perhaps even, I dare say, a super human capacity for finding literary treasures!
I just found this old post made 14 years ago on my facebook timeline. I thought as it is almost Christmas now, the event that I discuss took place a few days before Christmas and it's about rising from the dead, I would post my own little rising from the dead experience. This is from my actual experience of a particular psychedelic plant, given to me as a Christmas gift by a hippie acquaintance while I was living in an apartment located on Haight Street in San Francisco in the early 2000s.
The Haight-Ashbury District in San Francisco is of historical significance and played a central role in the counter culture/hippie revolution that took place in the late 60s through the 70s. The neighborhood now struggles to hold on to its historical past and is engaged in a bit of a mini cultural war, between the gentrification forces of a different type of cultural revolution, high technology and it's older long-term residents whom are trying to remain true to the original hippie values and ideals of that bygone era. This is the context in which I was presented with a quantity of Syrian Rue, which is reported to have mild hallucinogenic properties.
This is my 2009 post, “something different for me on my day off. My friend brought me a medicinal plant from Syria and at 6 am I ate the plant. I proceeded to hallucinate all morning with one prominent vision standing out from the others. In the vision, I perceived myself as a skeleton, rising out of my sandy grave in an ancient burial chamber next to an elevated and rather large sarcophagus”.
I seem to remember, that at the time I did not have an emotional reaction, however on further reflection, after the event, the idea that I was somehow laying in the dirt and was not, apparently the occupier of the larger sarcophagus, which appeared by my observations to have been undisturbed and sealed was the most disturbing aspect of my trip down memory Lane or whatever it was that I was experiencing. As many of you, at least the two of you who follow my stories should know, I have a rather large ego, and the idea that I was maybe some kind of slave or worse, yet, some random intruder who perhaps just inadvertently wandered in to the wrong place at the wrong time, was very deflating. I feel like I should've been the ancient pharaoh within this sarcophagus, not some random dead guy in the dirt.
Anyway, as you, my two loyal followers, already know, I tend to overthink the hell out of everything and perhaps there is no rational explanation for any of this whatsoever. To this day, I still remember parts of this dream/vision, the circular chamber and an elevated sarcophagus in the middle of the room as a crawled out of the sand in my vision. I remember sitting in the Esophageal Chamber and then laying down in the vision, and reawakening back in my Haight St. apartment.
This was a vivid and very bizarre experience that still haunts me to this day. I don't dwell on it, but occasionally it pops up into my consciousness. Not really sure how to interpret it. Of course, I realize here that many of you will probably assume that I am delusional, or perhaps even suffering from some rare type of psychosis, which, in my more lucid moments, I must admit, has already occurred to me. Perhaps my trying to attribute any meaning or some sort of cosmic lesson, is a waste of time. Maybe this vision/experience could've just been nothing more than a biochemical reaction, stimulating certain parts of my brain, producing random unexplainable images. Perhaps this story should just be a cautionary tale about not ingesting random hallucinogens given to you by hippies hanging out on Haight Street. Maybe I should think twice before embarking on a reckless tour of the cosmos.
Anyway, in the interest of your valuable time, I should not digress into further analysis and just leave it as just another random Skyy story about rising from the dead. I realize this day of Christmas, is Jesus’ birthday and not the day he rose from the dead, but just try to think of it as everyone gets a second chance if you believe enough, or manage to get your hands on Syrian Rue.
Anyway back to my devoted Christian followers, I realize this doesn’t have a lot to do with Jesus and if I really look deeply at my motivations, it is probably just click bait, but please practice forgiveness as Jesus commands. As my readership numbers are pretty abysmal, please don't abandon me in my hour of need. Thats all, sorry, no deep thoughts or philosophical musings. I am keeping this short and sweet because I am feeling lazy/hungover and testing to see if shorter stories translate into more views. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Speaking of desperate measures, since we celebrate the teachings of Jesus in this time of year, which included being compassionate and kind to strangers, please like subscribe and share with all your friends and family. Happy holiday, Merry Christmas, and if you happen to be a neopagan/Hindu/Wiccan, such as I, “happy yule, so mote it be”.
PS To my dedicated Christian followers, Just in case I am mistaken with some of my theological understandings, and you happen to die before I, please remember to be charitable as Jesus was, and put in a good word for me at the gates with St. Peter(my namesake). Who knows, it might just get you in a little quicker and perhaps save my unrepentant, rebel soul.
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