It is the water that remembers. The water sets up the story of the sentience of the plants. Water will tell the story of the intense sensuousness that pushes the plants to listen out to the edges of the universe.

It is expanded. I look at myself. The vortex of possibility splays me wide. I fear asking. I must ask. I must ask the question…what was the question forgotten by the seekers of the grail? The grail, the grail, the holy grail! There is so much commotion where it is in hand…it is held, nourished and trusted. Wont you ask with me? wont you hold the question? feel the answer? be it?

It is a fact, that the best we can do is sometimes not good enough >for the desired results< its a fact that bodies break down, wear out, and fail to thrive.

I am gripping at the relationship continuum
that goes on and on and on.
It has always been in motion.

I participate in a confluence of energy beings.
Together we reconstruct patterns of light and prana, moving always
toward bigger, more beautiful, more inclusive spirals.

We curl out of small pods, alone and together.
We resonate in orbits always echoing the center.

I was introduced to 5-MeO-DMT by a friendly, warm, eloquent, experienced high priest of the occult arts.
Having been experienced with LSD and Psilocybin, I was dubious about his remarks when he said this unique substance would cause a dropping of ego unlike we’d ever experienced.

In somebody's anthropology class shamanism was defined elementarily as a kind of work that bridges the world of spirit and the world of matter; we understand that they exist in a continuum, but do seem to exist in fairly distinct realms.