Photographs & Psilocybin

I spent some time today looking through old family photographs... pictures of my brother, sister, mother, father, and various family members. Some that I knew well and others that escape me entirely. You see, several years ago, my sent me all of the family photos... I was given the task of holding on to them and preserving their memory. I suppose no one else would take them, or wanted them... to be reminded of all of sick, fucked up things from our childhood. I can look at them and remain calm... actually, almost completely without any emotion whatsoever. During this screening, I stumbled upon some photos of my sister... a crooked grin flashed across my mouth as I was taken back to a time of memorial and closure. It was a memory of me going into the mountains one afternoon. When I had reached the appropriate spot, I constructed a fire mound and ate a fist full of psilocybin mushroom. I settled into the earth, waiting, as I starred into the fire and the accumulating ash and embers. Several hours into my journey, I stood up and began dancing around the fire... channeling some part of my Native American ancestry. I remember seeing my mother and sister before me, tied up like beasts ready to be sacrificed. I slit their throats quickly and laid them on the ground. The ritual was far from over, over the next hour I danced around and through the pile of burning embers, chanting in some foreign tongue as I placed them inside the earth... returning them to a place of balance. In there, they could no longer hurt me... I was finally free from the wrath and wickedness. There was no Jesus standing over this day, it was just me... a God of my own self. The sun had settled beyond the mountain range and my body became weary from the chanting, crying ,and dancing. I placed some more wood upon the embers and rekindled the fire, laid down beside the flames, and rested my body as I awaited the return of my spirit.At the time, I guess I didn't realize how healing this experience was... how much hurt had been carried around for all of those years. When I look back at it now, I realize it was one of the most profound spiritual experiences in my entire life. It was a turning point in my healing and mental illness... I had ridden the snake, and there I found the end.