Why you should not take acid- a story of adventure and education

Why you should not take acid

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Maui Hawaii: This place is a little dirty but dirty is almost necessary in a place where hundreds of people are put in charge of an event in a location removed from all forms of traditional authority. The beasts are released from their chains and prowl a small spit of land known as Little Beach. In a world losing touch with reality some of the realest shit can happen at this place.  A new authority rises and every week and new culture is created from the beast on top. It’s a sight to behold and I will do my best to capture the experience with the words that have been given to me.

To get to Little Beach you must first climb a cliff located at the end of Big Beach. Coming over the cliff to the sound of jungle drums, and the sight of naked bodies it feels as if you have left the real world behind though you know that it is only miles away. There is even a light haze over the entire beach (probably cause by sea foam) that indicates the number of people who are seriously experimenting with mind altering substances. Every Sunday they gather to celebrate the setting of the sun and with music, dance, poi, and other inventions fueled by psychedelics they celebrate.

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My part in this party is miniscule. I dance and usually jump on the drum but on this day I felt small. I dosed and made sport with the beasts. In my wanderings a came across a real life shaman who made a living by mixing the chemicals needed to make LSD. I didn’t know that he was a shaman when I first met him. He was of the subtle kine. At first I was attracted to his unconventional wisdom and the strangeness of our relationship. It was only until later that night did he reveal that he was one of few that knew how to produce pure LSD. I asked if he could teach me and with that we began a mentoring relationship. It was the same shaman who invited me to breathe fire with him and for the first time in my life I let the flame rip from my mouth.

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A mouth full of lighter fluid sprayed in a fine mist upon an open flame and you’ll have yourself a fireball. With lighter fluid running down your face it’s not hard to imagine how dangerous fire breathing can be, but the adrenaline mixed with the commanding attention of a fireball and the sport can quickly go to your head. In fact it really must go to one’s head if it is to be done correctly, but as we all know; when you play with fire you can expect to get burned.

It was not I, nor the shaman, but the crazy old monk named Darrel who got burned. Darrel had been living in the woods near Little Beach for years. Recently he had decided to go full on monk mode and shaved all his hair but saved a small spot on the back which he braded. When I asked what kind of monk he was he said “The kind that gets laid” he also told me how he had been taking small amounts of different poisons to increase his immunities and to eventually… When he told me this I looked at him and we cackled into the night at the thought of immortality. With Darrel as my teacher I blew my biggest ball of flame I have ever blown, and too close to Darrel’s hand. He was severely singed to the point that he turned to rage. I could out run him but there was nowhere to run. Darrel was out to kill me, literally. I was able to escape into the dark of the night but needed to go back for my pack. He found me before I could grab my stuff and chased me all the way to the entrance of the Little Beach; he chased me to the cliffs. On the cliffs in the woods I hid in the bushes as the old monk gathered the local Hawaiians and formed a search party. Now true fear, like I have never felt before began to sink in. I lay still for more than thirty minutes and when I felt like all was forgotten I made a move for my pack only to run strait into Darrel.

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“It ends for you here” he said and with fire in his eyes he walked slowly and steadily towards me. “On the cliffs of Little Beach you die.”

I wanted to run but had nowhere to go. With my back to the cliff I faced him.

He was weaker than I expected but still managed to get a good punch to my face in before I brought him to the ground and put my arm around his neck.

He pulled out his arm before me. He was burnt badly.

“I’m a 55 year old man son. You can’t burn people like this. You’re going to have to pay” and he began to squeeze himself out.

“I could kill you now” I said as I pulled my arm tight around his neck.

“If you’re going to it then do it quick” he sputtered and he went limp in my arm.

“I am so sorry. Can you let me go?” I said, almost crying.

“Only if you leave this beach, and leave the island, and you leave right now!”

On the now he gave an exhale and I jumped down the cliff with him on the dark cliff top calling after me “Soon I will come to get you and the next time I see you, I’m going to and kill you!” And he started down after me. I ran to the exit and hid in the bushes. A large Hawaiian that I could not see walked to the exit and called into the night “Leenock!” From this call I could hear his size and the hunter that was his nature and I was afraid. On my other side another Hawaiian replied “Makoy” and finally Darrell said “goodbye Chris” and they left.

I walked on the road for a long time. The plants and gadgets that make up the finer details of the island always amaze me and even more so when I am trippin. Eventually I came across a golf course resort, the kind that cost more than a house for one night’s stay. Walking on the grass was a relief for my bare feet and when I made it to the hot tub I pretended I was a wealthy man though I had no one to fool. The walk back to the beach was short. I moved in to Little Beach like a ninja. From far away I could see where Darrell and the others were sleeping and a fire. I snuck past their camp and checked my spot but could only find my book bag (“Being and Time” inside) and some towels so I wrapped myself up and slept above the camp in hiding. In the morning I still could not find my pack. I remember looking into the shamans eyes from a distance as two creatures captured in amazement by one another. I found my shoes socks, and shirt.

Wet paper, headphones, my wallet, a belt, work pants, 145 dollars, and the connection I had made on island where all that I had. On the wet piece of paper was the phone number to Alert Alarm which was a company that I had worked for in the past. Showed up to the office and they gave me a room and a job. Now I take a shower every day and hang around the house while I wait for my badge to arrive so that I can start work. Played video games and wrote this story today.

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Thus beach life in Hawaii comes to a burning end. It is the challenges in life that make us grow and in the past 4 months I have learned more than most. Food is everywhere and survival takes little effort. It’s what we do with our time after our need are met is what makes us thrive. Meditation, reading, exercise are more of a challenge in a house than on a beach. There is still a struggle to break on through the next boundary but the challenges are different, unfamiliar even, like I need to lose touch with a part of myself in order to find the next thing. I now realize that there are many abilities that cannot express themselves without the aid of comfort and now my life turns in the direction of the cultivation of these comfortable subtleties.

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Communication for dummies- The Shit Test

Shit tests

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A shit test is a social device that people use to determine the mental caliber of person they are dealing with. The shit test is most recognizable in the form of witty banter between friends, but can also come in many different forms; some of which are none to the nicest. Almost every person has characteristics they wish others would believe though they may not be true. A shit test is one way to tell if a person is who they come off to be and can determine the strength of frame of the person on the receiving end of the shit test has in their possession. Shit tests are pass/fail. If the shit test is passed respect is gained, if failed then interaction usually comes to a halt and the two parties go their separate way.

The classic example of shit testing is used by females who are generally bombarded with male attention and need a way of filtering through the masses (“Buy me a drink”… “Well then I would have to fleep w/ you and we really haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”). Shit tests are used by everyone from time to time and more so by higher status members of a society. A CEO will shit test harder than a manager and a manager harder than a garbage man. This is because the social pool that high class individuals get to pick from is far greater than the lower class, and the need to have only the best persons on hand in order to secure their own superiority. (I don’t make the rules, I just explain them) There are some people (generally people who enjoy a challenge) that find shit tests to be an enjoyable way to show off their intellect and my find conversation in which shit testing is not included to be boring conversations. These are socially skilled often competitive individuals who should be shit tested. In these situations shit testing is used as a form of validation and can be thrown back and forth as a form of validation. With each pass of shit report is built between the shit throwers. This can go on forever in the form of two friends bantering back and forth.

One strategy of leadership found in harder arenas like boot camp or competitive sales positions, the leader will shit test everyone into the ground and rebuild them from that point up. This strategy can be extremely effective for changing a person on a deeper level. If this strategy is chosen be sure that you can maintain the responsibility for the entire rebuilding process, because leaving someone in the ground makes them extremely vulnerable to outside influence so make sure that influence is from a positive source… like yourself.

For woman the shit test is often an ongoing part of her interaction with men. For her it’s something that she must employ for her high need of security that comes from her biology. As men grow older their mental frame often weakens and the shit testing female turns from a spicy young duchess into a nagging old hag. This is only because he can no longer pass her shit tests. Oh how sweet love can be.

Testing boundaries is something that makes us human and shit tests are a healthy way of interacting with the world. There are however, malicious shit tests and even, nuclear shit tests. Nuclear shit tests offer no advantage to anyone and it is best to avoid these at all costs (These often come in the form of ex-girlfriends). The amount and variety of shit test out there ranging from dominant/submissive, service oriented, wit, fear based shit tests to name just a few. Even your ability to hold a conversation could be viewed as a shit test. Through all of this complexity there is one distinction that should be made with shit tests. There are good shit tests, and there are bad shit tests. Good shit tests are shit tests that are probing for strength and can be viewed as challenge to overcome with the reword of status for victory. Bad shit tests offer no reword and should be avoided if possible. If they must be confronted then damage control should be of primary concern. These come in the form of confrontational fighting of jealous boyfriends.

The well-spoken and quick witted out there are going to have a lot of fun with shit tests. The duller of you out there are going to hate them and I would recommend watching some stand up comedians to improve your social skills (“Joe Rogan puts heckler in their place”). You could even try the brute force social exposure method if you can muster up the courage. Whatever it is, do whatever it takes. Till next time.

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