My first ayahuasca experience was pretty much a doomsday plot from day one. I have written a trip report about it on this forum somewhere if your interested.
Basically, I kept failing and failing at ayahuasca - either throwing up or brewing it wrongly.
I eagerly added more and more mimosa and syrian rue trying to get the number's right, when really I should have been
educating myself rather than rushing things.
I have it documented at 35 grams mimosa and five grams syrian rue the night of the nightmare [I wrote it down prior to consumption].
I remember arrogantly telling a fellow nexus member how much I had cooked up, of course he told me I was a complete bafooon.
I assured him my body would expel the brew before all of it absorbed, if indeed this turned to be a case of having taken too much.
If you haven't figured by now, I thought my material was bunk - when really I wasnt cooking it right.
SO i took the the rue in towel napkins, followed by the drink 45 mins later... suffered the worst nausea of my life... and suprisingly didn't puke!!
I was excited for a while knowing it was coming on... and then... one hour passed, two hours passed... nothing!?
Feeling rather defeated - i told myself I'm done with ayahuasca... it doesn't work for me.
I went to my kitchen and grabbed a cherry danish
[which is so unlikely of me, because to this day, I have yet to see a danish of any kind in my house and really have no clue how it go there. AND I hate cherries!]
I went to my basement, having just finished the danish, sat in front of my piano and began to play.
Five minutes into fiddling around on the keys - I noticed an unprecedented improvement of flow and skill in my piano playing.
I felt like a young Mozart - and to those who are interested, I strongly feel like this experience alone has kicked up my piano playing several notches since.
And then it hit me - a tensing in the neck, athritis-stricken hands suddenly discontinued dancing atop the keys, my head began to drupe to the side as I stared heavily across the room
[at nothing in particular].
And besides that, there's not much else I remember.
I know that everything began to swirl in a really strange way, like the room seemed to start collapsing in on itself, like a vortex.
I remember jumping off the chair in front of my piano terrified and panicked... sccurying as quickly as possible over to my bed, lifting the sheets over top of me and literally, descending into madness.
I had read very little about the aya journey prior to this - which proved to be interesting [post-trip] though, horrifying [during].
The only thing I remember of the actual trip which is the entire reason I've included my story in your thread was this one period of [seemingly many, many hours]
where I was rocking back and forth on my knees in absolute disarray, praying and pleading,
repeating the same sentence over and over in my head: "I deserve this."
Also, my heart was RIPPING out of my chest during this time.
As the years went on since this journey and I finally regained the strength and eased my way back in to the possibility of ayahuasca, becoming more accustomed and respectful of the plants that are part of this brew.
I realised one thing... and one thing only: I didn't have a bad trip because of MHRB/DMT.
Without a doubt it was terrifying because of the massive dose - although I dont exactly remember much of it.
But the
real reason why I felt [quite literally and physically if I may add] like I was dying, rocking back and forth, pleading to emerge untarnished,
heart ripping through my chest... was because...
syrian rue is a nasty fucking thing - and I took way to much of it.
Since then I've discovered rue is active at as little as 1.5-2 grams for me.
I haven't taken more than 2.5 since. And nowadays I wouldn't even consider eating or brewing it - only the extracted alks I would use.
It is almost certain, had it been five grams OR two grams of rue, I would have had an equally unnerving, explosive result.
Afterall, I definetly came out of the trip having regressed to the intelligence of a three year old, unable to speak english - not because of the rue, but because the DMT. Unless, I hit my head or something in which case neither would be held accountable, but I'm pretty sure the DMT was responsible for what was a three-hour aftertrip of inability to form words and absolute bewilderment.
The difference was the over-abundance of a somewhat toxic substance in my system... having twirled me and steered the direction of my trip.
I bring to you this experience as a warning and model of sometimes how and why things go wrong.
My words of wisdom to you - no matter how much DMT you take, believe me, you will recover.
Have the respect for yourself, you so certainly deserve - and give yourself a period of grace, to assimilate and quantify.
I hope you can one day revisit ayahuasca or at least look upon your trip in a positive way.
“The quest is to be liberated from the negative, which is really our own will to nothingness. And once having said yes to the instant, the affirmation is contagious. It bursts into a chain of affirmations that knows no limit. To say yes to one instant is to say yes to all of existence.”