Apothecia

Where does your medicine come from, have you ever considered to ask this? If it is in pill form, what is inside that magical little capsule, that you are so ritually putting inside your body, and stashing away in your cupboard. The bourgeois state has somehow convinced the unthinking majority that there is something called the ‘War on Drugs’ but what are these drugs, and where did they come from before they were suddenly a problem.

     

One thing must be set into reality, Nature does not grow drugs, man processes indigenous plant and fungal substances into drugs for his own profit. Your medicine is patented, ours comes from the soil. The Mandan Indians spoke of the medicine as ‘what is good for you’, and I may add what is organic. There is a whole waste of money on the war on drugs, when the medicine might be the actual remedy for that war. 90% of the pharmaceuticals available over the counter have their origins in the Americas, for instance and quite humorously Viagara, and Birth Control; derived from amazonian aphrodisiac plants, and the sweet potato, respectively. How backwards can such a supply and
demand system be? Acreage of pristine forest is robbed for it’s resource, only to selfishly change and manipulate it, because man thinks it is his to control, put on the market and blemish it’s medicine permanently, then follows the carnal exploitation of sexuality through pornography, branding these drugs for ‘enhanced’ performance of the male species, which permits a medicine to be twisted around, and misused, only to catalytically rely on yet another drug, the birth control, again from South America, but somehow this solves the problem of abuse doesn’t it? It doesn’t matter apparently because it brings in profit, and that is sitting on the top of the pyramid.

When is it alright to sell medicine? I would say almost never. Medicine is something that needs to come organically and without force or want. As a gypse it is sometimes necessary to purvey sacred medicines, in exchange for favors or other resources; cannabis, salvia, peyote, flowers, these are an alternative currency when you are on the road, and people who are in line with that understand it as money. In fact, it is more important than money, because it has life. Drugs, do not have life, they take away life. I generally follow an unwritten rule of safe, sane, and simple. If your medicine does not fit within this trine, then you should really question what you are doing. Where is your source, and why are there so many ‘side-effects’. Medicine does not beat around the bush, it is a language, they all have their teachers, if you don’t respect them, you simply won’t get it. And then you will need more because of the inability to surrender. Learn to listen and realize, that the medicine you need does not have a pricetag.

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Reindeer Lichen (Cladonia rangiferina)

Found some reindeer lichens near the Arctic Circle last weekend in Iceland, although it grows quite abundantly on the roadsides there as well. Also called Caribou Moss, I found out some interesting medicinals when taking it as a tea. That is seemed to soften the water and also clean it of any dirt or any unwanted chlorine that may have been in the tap water was evident. This is a delicate part of the land, and there is a reason it is found mostly in the Arctic climes, for it will only grow a few mm. a year, which means, don’t go tramping around unconsciously and ripping up all the life. They dominate the old Boreal forests back in Canada, or up in the Taiga woods.

For aquavit, this lichen can be used, which is famous in the Nordic and Thule lands. An Eastern Himalayan people used it against kidney stones, and it is also a medicine food when crushed and soaked hot until soft, this by the Dena’ina, and inland Alaskans. It goes with berries, fish, and eggs, but they do have quite a list of acids I can barely pronounce so they must be well cooked. These interesting lifeforms are an ancient hybrid of fungi and alga, the quintessential ground coverings of the north. Maybe the vikings made their beds with these lichens, certainly many reindeer do. Strangely it is also found in Turkey, South Africa, Lizard Island in Cornwall, and France. If you find them, they are a sign of clear air. They are in line with atwa.

Siberian and Sami tribes let their reindeer feed on it all day, and they can also be eaten partially digested from the caribou rumens. Labrador Inuit and the Ojibwa (my people) used “caribou moss” in times of starvation, but generally the indigenous use is sparse and sometimes only for emergency. After cooked it is also a good vegetarian dog food, likely the Alaskan or Siberian huskies and sled dogs.

“The main food use of reindeer lichen as a major component of the partially digested stomach contents of caribou and other ungulates. Often mixed together with other lichens such as Cetraria, mushrooms, horsetails, sedges, grasses, willow, birch, and blueberry leaves and shoots, it was considered a delicacy in this form. This food was used traditionally by most Inuit peoples (including Igloolik, Copper, Caribou, Netsilik, Baffin Island, Nuamiut, Labrador, and Polar), as well as by the Chipewyan and other northern Indian groups. Because the complex lichen polysaccharides and proteins were apparently partially broken down in the animal’s rumen, this material was more easily digestible for humans”.

Cacao: God Food

In a Welsh forest, far from the natural habitat of this medicine, I sat during a Cacao ceremony as a medicine man brewed three different kinds of Peruvian Cacao into hot water boiled on a fire. I thought I would share some of it’s medicine with you. It was an immersion experience as the theobromine and caffeine entered gently in my body, and different vibrations of music filled my soul.

The seeds of the tree, Theobromine Cacao are of course used to make our favorite drinks, cocoa, and is the main ingredient in chocolate.The name is derived from theos meaning the gods and broma meaning the food, but the cacao part of the name is Mesoamerican, known as kakaw in Tzeltal, K’iche’ in Maya and cacahuatl in Nahuatl. The foci of domestication after it was wild, it thought to be Mexico in Lacandon or in the Amazon Basin. Others think it is from Iquitos in Peru, and has been on earth for at least 21,000 years while used for nearly 4,000 as a medicine. Several mixtures of cacao are described in ancient texts, for ceremonial or medicinal reasons. Some mixtures included maize, chili, vanilla and honey. Some ancient vessels from Honduras and vessels from a Mayan tomb in Rio Azul contain remnants of theobromine and caffeine. It is also mentioned in a hieroglyphic text at the same place. The ground Cacao was mixed with Tobacco by the Aztecs for smoking. Cacao beans constituted both a ritual beverage and an offering in Meso American civilizations. The Aztec empire received a yearly tribute of 980 loads of xiquipil (cacao). It was used as a currency by the Mayans. In Mayan mythology the cacao was given to the humans by a plumed serpent after they were created from the maize by an ancestral grandmother, Xmucane. They also had a cacao god called ek chuaj. In ritual use it was thought to be toxic to children and women and only used by men.

Originally cacao may have been fermented and thus drank as an alcohol. Theobromine stimulates the heart to a greater degree. While theobromine is not addictive, it has been cited as possibly causing addiction to the chocolate. The caffeine within the cacao can enhance the reward memory of pollinators such as honey bees, thus increasing the numbers of its progeny. The cacao flavors can vary in aroma like fine wines, and there are three separate kinds used for chocolate. Cocoa is the single healthiest substance you can put in your mouth besides water. It replaces psychiatric drugs for mood, and produces the same chemistry in the brain that occurs when we fall in love, those that act on the pineal glands and another near the heart, called the Bliss Chemical or Anandamide. It slows down the aging game, and stimulates dopamine to be made in the brain, which is a natural drug hormone in itself. The anti-oxidants are the highest of any food in the world. It also makes Tryptophans, a feel good chemical aka serotonin that gives a natural high. Simply put, I love Cacao, and I want to use it regularly in my diet, good thing it’s vegan.

Pacha Mama: This is One World Garden

Everything in this world can be a medicine or a poison, it is the way we treat it, and how we use it which amounts to it’s effect. I thought deeply of this today while traveling in Iceland. The meat we take may be healing to us, if we enter the relationship with the animal, there may be a type of conversation made with the being it inhabits. To hunt down a deer sitting in a tree with a shotgun, will kill the animal, but the meat may not be the medicine, because the deer was unawares and did not freely give itself. Whereas to chase a deer with bow, it may recognize the same struggle of the human, and in time when it is killed, the soul of the deer has had time to leave the body and give it’s flesh and meat for good. This goes to with the plant world. It is entirely different to harvest a crop of fields with a turning machine and metal blades than to sit with a plant or simply ask for it’s medicine firsthand. Every animal also decides this when it’s death comes. We may not be able to live off the land from foraging, but those with a higher mind know in their knowing that one certainly can. It comes down to dosage.

Everything on this earth can be a poison or a medicine, depending on dosage. I see people overdosing on chocolate, and sugar, as it permeates so much of their diet, treated as drugs, while these substances, cacao and cane, can be truly medicinal in the right doses, prepared and sourced the right way. Even the lesser of foods that we take for granted have the ability to be extremely beneficial. One of the most common mistakes in agriculture is getting rid of the weeds, without any consideration of what these secret flora may be capable of. In our cemeteries, the corpse rich humus nourishes the semilanceata mushrooms, with a dna code unique to any other mushroom on this planet. Those in the psychedelic mind will know this fungus as a deep inhibitor of healing, transformation and the symbolic language of lucidity. Mass consumption is unnecessary and usually means the food is extremely lacking in what you actually need. Raw food is never exotic, and most of the time has relations with other plants and animals. We have forgotten this symbiotic recipes so to speak, and eat a lot of poison food. When we serve our dinner, there is still life left in the meat and plants we have used to prepare it, it is important to recognize this, as so many settle for dead, modified, empty food.

This land is the one world garden, and everything that grows and lives on it is my medicine. If we develop a further conscious effort to realize that every ingredient that goes into the products at the markets once came from soil at it’s earliest source, and Pacha Mama allows us to receive. Within her gifts are the medicines we need. We should stop trying to render them into something else. For it is not ours to decide. Everything is medicine or poison. It is our love which knows the difference.

Myristica Fragrens: An Ally of Empathy (Nutmeg psychotropic experience)

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After the body high of a mountain ascent, and a successful grounding, I took up my lodging like any night, in the roundhouse of a remote Scottish valley, and settled in. I had taken little food, only eating very little porridge and spiced curry that day, nothing substantial to bog me down before ingesting of the nutmeg, and portioned out 15g in one of my medicine bottles. For a warming spice coming from the New Guinea islands, the nutmeg is traditionally used only for topping off a hot coffee or baked goods in winter. I had read Erowid reports of the proper dosage for body weight, and the pattern of experience in others. The next day and a half would be devoted to exploring this ally, and seeing what I could not learn from it, so I downed the muddy mixture with goat milk and fruit juice, with the texture of Kava Kava, it was muddy but not terrible, just raw.

Ensuing into the nightfall, I became more lulled by subtle comforts working on me. Strains of music became more present, as I lay listening to Popul Vuh. Then for several hours in a skype conversation with a close friend in New England, I found my words to come eloquently pouring from my mouth, and started talking in spirals that evolved out of each other. Though said friend told me I carried an offkilter mood, and an air of sadness. It was true, I had been feeling some sorrow and knowingly went into this vulnerable. Though in my opinion I think there is no better reason than to align with the plants spirit, for in our normative state we may be less sympathetic to occurrences and events as we hold back and judge it. The melancholia only become more acute, as I pondered over the source, and tried to medicate it in my mind with assurance. The nutmeg spoke words from my own mouth but in a female voice, and I swelling into becoming more dreamy and drifting. I knew then of the femininity of the plant.

In the night I could not truly sleep, but entered a state of drowse with my eyes half shut. In the way I thought monks to do for achieving rest in their half awake half slumber state. I felt that I was awake, but not the insomnia that others experience, for I was comfortable and utterly still in the soporific cloud I existed in. The morning came late, or rather I came late to it, for I must have fell in a deep unconscious rest until then. Day the second became rather lonely, as I was still here tending the farm for the weekend, though I cherished the solitude, I wanted to be alone with someone in particular. My mind did somewhat the opposite of what cannabis brings upon me, the temporal distortion I speak of. The cycle of the day was normal, but I went about with my time in a slow careful manner, stopping to think often, staring out into the beyond of my own mulling thoughts, and moving in methodical passive manners through the farmhouse. I did a load of reading; Carl Jung’s Red Book, two Rune studies, and a travel monologue written by an Irishman, I became enveloped in his story and journey across Africa on a motorcycle. I reread passages in Jung that utterly made me cringe and coil and others that created a synchronicity of thought between myself and the paradigms of his ideas. I made a fire in the round room and sat stoking the flames for hours and kept in the glow of it’s burn. Calling my friend overseas again, and reflecting on the nature of man and woman’s most ancient needs. I retired to my room once more and slept under my reindeer and black sheep pelts.

Foregoing day the third, I was only now coming down to the ground with the spice. My actions were more deliberate and meaningful as I still reveled in having downtime from my cattle work. More copious reading in the morning and then I migrated outside to a sacred tree circle I had found here in the valley. A ring of nine larch on a slope brought me into a kind of fortress of the spirit. This was a special area I like to sit and envision. I lay at the exposed roots of the elder of the ring, next its hollows and creature warrens. Then setting up a fur carpet in the middle of the ring atop the brass colored grasses, I burned incense on the roots and chimed a singing bowl through the aether. Filling the circle grove with a vibratory eminence of clarity and cleanliness. The deer have bedded here, I sat in the same hollow and read more of my travel book, staring at a coyote skull and smoked sage. The dry mouth was a constant notice, and the sage cleared the passages of my breath sufficiently enough. A storm gust blew in over the trees, and I cut through the cattle farm beside a small pond and returned back to shelter, reflecting again in front of the fire and drawing whatever came to my minds eye. The late hours found me thinking a lot, just on prospects of relationship, the nutmeg was very empathy inducing. I thought more on dreams, hidden meanings in events, my reputation, and my ability to influence. These were coming right from my heart, there was no judgement or veil, but maybe a slight confusion for having not met with them for a period of time, for the feelings were omniscient but not always focused on in this relative spiritual drought I have been experiencing. I slept soundly, and by the fourth day as I journal this, I understand the nutmeg to be deeply nourishing, as I have not felt weakened or overtired. A certain stillness has washed over me, as my setting remains unchanged, and I feel I could navigate the 48 hour trip next with more coercion and steadfastness. I smell the lingering aroma now when I think of the nutmeg, and feeling a passive acceptance of its inner nature, an emotional heart-case, but a gentle lover.

To Thee Hights ov Old Britain, Climbing Ben Nevis Solo

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Last Freyja’s day of this bitter chilled Scottish winter, I stepped outside and decided to climb Ben Nevis, the tallest summit in all of Britain. Cresting the Cairngorms, the Snowdonian hills of Wales, and the mountains of the lake District or the western shores of Ire’land. This impulsive desire to rise to it’s heights instilled itself virtually overnight. A farm and cattle show was happening in the village of Oban, over an hour from the Cairngorm highlands, and I would be able to hitch a ride with the farmer who owns this land. Thus, it is precisely what became to be.

I saddled the ride in the truck to Fort William, the town bordering the mountain and set off hoofing it on foot down a back country way. Walking the rivers edge until I could find a bridge after a mile on the road, I crossed the meandering aquas, and ended up in a sheep farm, with a golemn of a mountain staring me down, bronze and brown were its wrinkles, sprouting stunted dwarves on it’s spine, though this wasn’t Ben Nevis, it only concealed the view. I found the hoof trail made by sheep until it lead to a boulderous walkway, with stones quite precisely placed in the earth forming almost a cobbled pilgrimage route. Ascending slowly along the outer ridges of this giant, skirting its bones carefully, and bending sinew as do the goats and ungulates of the hills. I at last made a vantage point looking over the Glen Nevis Valley, and the rocky promenade of sorts made a turn away to reach the higher plateaus. For some passing of the hour, I trod up the path at a pace that made my breath sound like wind vowels streaming through the air. Meandering in a serpentine fashion like this until finding a loch on the aerial landscape, frozen and encrusted with ice. I wonder what unique floral forms could dwell in and around that pond.

Peering out over my footsteps just traveled, an ominous poison cloud threatened to drip its black wet ichor all over me as I would then be helplessly condemned to the downpour. It looked at heavy as iron, but seemed to be far away by mountain standards, and I kept rising. Now kicking in my spikes to violently find my footing in the coarse snow and ice, the path shot up the peaks like double Sowilo runes, zigzagging to the Sun. The gradient which supposed its steepness would like to something  inspiring was already apparent. It was a path through the fog and the mist of Europe. I dug in and felt my heart pulse like a flickering candle. Making headway for the conical tip of the mountain I was now walking on near solid ice, blue encrusted lichens on the black bones of the mountains were my only footholds. How long have these growths been here in these barrens? A thousand years? A million? Ancient slow cooker, what medicine they could yield. I thought about gathering something from here but they were so beautiful I could not disturb their forms, and beside this was only the cascade of rocks. I sat on one which felt solid in the ice and looked behind me from whence I climbed. I could see only 10 feet in front of me, if that at times. The only definition of ground were the submerged boulders in the haze, for everything was the purest white. The sky blended imperceptibly with the snow, so if I sat and stared, the feeling was of drifting around in the high altitudes of Scottish Airspace, sailing on this ship of a rock amid other rocks, floating, not above or below, but within.

To say this was humbling would be mild. The thoughts were not of fear but of utter curiosity, so I think this speaks of how I have been managing my more primal thought patterns as of late. How long would I be here waiting for it to clear? I was lingering near a peak that was farthest from the sea, where most people dwelled. Perhaps I would see a white ptarmigan or a hare, and they would show me how to descend or just reveal their presence. The sun would not set for another four hours, I could sit here and meditate and try to build up my inner heat, or think on it. I had carried a barn owl which I found on the farm, it had been crushed by a bale of hay, and was slightly deformed. For 4 nights I had it wrapped up in a shroud with sage leaves. I took it out and gave it a proper sky burial. A new haunt. Here, higher than I have ever been in Europe, it was a fit home. I heard clattering of bells far on another flank of the mountain and sometime caught a wisp of color of another person. Then I heard these bells and clattering from behind and slightly above me. Two Scotsmen on their way ‘doon, as they say. So I brushed a layer of snow and ice crystals off my vest and thought it wise to follow them down, one of them threw me an ice axe and said use it to stop yourself, and then we went feet first sliding down half of the ice capped slope in supine, accelerating past sharp crags and hidden stones. I used my spikes on my boots and the axe to slow, just before a drop off with a waterfall, and waited for them to meet me. They turned off down the western flank, while I stammered back through the zigzag serpent course and cut across swathes of bronze heather flora. I had a limp though, the extreme force on the achilles rendered it now useless to serve my stride, and I felt a grinding in my heel. On the rocky pathway, the spikes didn’t do anything to comfort me…

On the descent, I passed a sheep, well not just one, but a flock of them, but one in particular that had one horn. I don’t know why I called him Hercules, it just came to mind. I met him on the ascent and said ‘see you on the way down’, and I did. He stared inquisitively, perhaps because my boots made the same sound on the hard surface that they did. I took a tighter path down to the b road which passed some undisturbed sentinel arborea clinging to sideways root holds. Crossing the river once more, and heading for the highway. Before long, I was picked up and taken to a junction, another pleasant and quiet ride with a mother in the twilight, and finally a hitch through the Spey Valley back to my dwelling. Though my heel was in shambles, it is now healing, and I reflect on the window of time I spent at the peaks, completely under natures will. I knew it in my heart, that nature was indifferent, but I trusted also in her, and I came down. But not all do. I stood on the peak of this country and descended to meet the levels of the sea in the same day, what more could humble a man.

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Re:Wilding Sacred Medicines

weeds_Par_17207_Image_-1_-1_1The re:wilding sacred medicines project is branching off of other current work that I have been spending time with over the last few months in foraging, growing, and experimenting with wild and cultivated plants. On my return to Canada, (Kan-ah-dah) I collected a number of seeds for my supply, of which I intend to acquire more later in other locations when the need arises. Among them; Black Henbane, Toloache (Datura Stramonium), Syrian Rue (The Soma Plant), & Morning Glory, and a portion of dried Fly Agaric, though in fungal form, could potentially be buried if there are any live spores left. These seeds are a small bastion of indigenous north and south American herbs used by the Native North and Meso Americans, and Indians of the southern states. They have been held is sacred regard by the healing villages, and shamans of these cultures, for use against ills, and for magical reciprocation of one’s health, but exploitation of the earth and destruction of indigenously owned land has also taken many of these plants and fungi asBlue-Morning-Glory-flowers-30352544-570-497
their victims, and they are now at serious risk, not only of their survival in the wild-erness, but of the loss to an elder way and spirituality because these have been so ingrained within their heritage, and culture, to live without them would be a small death to their folk.

My aim with these seeds is to find still wild areas where these plants and fungi would find it tolerable to seed, root, and grow, and re:wild the sacred medicines in the geographically fitting areas of the states and canada. Part of this project will also be doing anything possible to re:wild the areas these were once native to Datura_stramonium1but may now struggle for existence from various factors such as invasive weeds, cemented trails, roads, overhunting affecting the fauna thus affecting the flora, pollution and rubbish, as well as human encroachment in delicated ecosystems. These 3 species and a small select few from the psychotropic variety, shall be cultivated back into the womb, by the hands of this author, and those kin who desire to assist.   This is a project of ATWA, Air Trees Water Animals, and it is a project of resistance because they are more than mere plants, green things that go unnoticed, they are emblems of a people, vectors to the gods and goddesses, and healing herbs for the human being. After these seeds are planted, they will be left to germinate, grow, and thrive in their natural land, tended by myself and others who wish to partake. Returning a pilgrimage to the place of the plant, a special ritual will be made in situ when they have come to their full propagated potential. Saving also any seeds for re-sowing. The process of preparing the plants shall be done at location, in the wild, drying in the sun, unearthing, cooking, or otherwise, before ingestion, through incenseous smoke, and the medicine pipe, or by other means when called for. These nights of rite will be dedicated strictly to the plant spirits, the people, the land wights, and the experience that befalls them. The intention shall come full circle in these  healing sessions, and repeated with the seeds from the new crop. This is the first chapter. As I will soon be tramping on to Georgia, Texas, and the southern desert states before settling for awhile in the Redwood Coast, then down into Mexico. These regions of the earth shall be the first grounds for re:wilding of these medicines, and more will be planted than mere seeds here.

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Cannabis: A Gift from the Gods

 

Plant smoke inhaled in a swamp domain… under traveling stars… the dank incense of the dried leaves, and communion with the divine crystal embedded in resinous flower…

The Gods and Goddesses planted them here, on the mother, Jord, Earth, Shakti. And man and woman cultivated the magic plant to converse fore-more with the divine. Inhaled, Exhaled. Silent mantras of :UR: and :OM: to transcend this shell of the body, leaving only husk…

An ancient connection is made, man and woman, become the vessel of their own journey…shiva-ratri1

The resonance of bones, the sound of insects at night, the shape of trees and shadows, one starts to learn what is ONE and what is all, by the symbols of the land.
By the runes, by the seeds, by the skull, and the ash.

Consumed by the great Medicine, the hamr and transforms, shapeshifting…

filled with the essence of the plant totem, the breath becomes of the wind,

A sacred union is made, in a ritual…
At a pace that escapes the notice of ‘time’
endowed with crystalline smoke, sun rays, moon rays,

cocooning the spirit in foggy webs,

of nine worlds and one, of the supreme tantra which is ALL,

Atavists digging to the roots, of what once was.

The memory, the mind…
the God, the Goddess, the Plant, the :G:ift

Nature health

I have been spending a lot of time in the woods, planting trees, hiking, traveling, and exploring. For this kind of lifestyle it seems harder to maintain hygiene, but I decided to myself before these excursions on finding some alternative natural/organic health and body items instead of the cheap quality chemical based, processed materials one can find in convenience shops at any time. My body and health is extremely important, so here are some things to think about if you have a similar personal life

Norse Woods beard oil
http://www.wotanklan.net/portfolio/norse-woods-beard-oil/

Essential oil like Lavender contra the expensive perfume/colognes

Eucalyptus cream for insect repellant, not toxic or alcohol based and won’t wreck your skin

Sandalwood soap, instead of glycerin and animal fat

Beeswax for wounds

Himalayan salt or Sea Salt for bathing and piercings

Sphagnum moss for light body cleansing

Expired henna powder for washing hair/beard

Molasses shisha without the tar/chemicals/nicotine if you like to smoke

You might also consider pine resin for mustache wax, and coconut oil  for skin

 

 

Fly Agaric (Amanita Muscaria)

It was my third time trying the Fly Agaric (Amanita Muscaria), as I started with only 3 small caps and went up to 5. I have a DSCF8744special affinity with mushrooms and enjoy finding new species and then identifying them if I can on my own study.
The Fly Agaric is native in Europe (mostly Lapland and northern Scandinavia) where it is taken by the Sami people for shamanic use. It is an ancient sacramental entheogen and also postulated as a main ingredient of the Soma, drank by the bards of the Vedic texts for immortality. It is one of the oldest organic substances used by man.  I went for a hike near my lodge and took them there. Nothing extraordinary happened, but after a couple hours I had the sensation of very acute inner consciousness, my functions and thoughts felt natural and I started viewed everything special. A certain love was present, love for myself, and a comfort that I had not experienced in my normal state. The muscimol must have had a freeing effect on the tensions from days past. The scent of the caps, a burnt orange color was aromatic and earthy, with a subtle char taste, especially when baked at 85F for a half an hour. I have read on Erowid that you can do this with fresh caps and collect the drops of liquid that fall off the mushrooms onto wax paper and then drip it back over them to make it more potent. The skin and the gills contain the most muscimol, but it is truly savored as a whole. I will increase my intake to 7 caps next time for a more potent effect. Hopefully I can obtain some Syrian Rue and Ephedra to make Soma.