LSD and a 12-hour Orgasm

Over the summer solstice, I ventured out of town to celebrate two of my dear friends Pandora and Joanna's birthdays in the form of an Alice-In-Wonderland-esque tea party.

A bunch of brilliant, beautiful and loving women dressed in sexy fishnets and skirts, and a group of brilliant and loving men dressed like mad hatters and Burners partook in the celebration.

I took one tab of LSD with the intention of love, abundance, and bliss. And, oh my goodness.

A summer rain storm was brewing, and about an hour into my trip, Joanna and I started hugging and breathing with one another. Together we were soaring through a colourful, warm and psychedelic dream scape while fuzzy butterflies fluttered in our seemingly merged stomachs. Staring out into the grassy field, the green blades waved and glistened as everything became more alive. Then, it felt like the grass was inside me. The illusion of separation disappeared as the entire world, then galaxies and the entire universe felt like they were inside me. My heart fluttered as waves of ecstasy rolled through me.

Joanna went inside for a bit, and I remained alone outside, at which point shockwaves ascended my spine and I began orgasming. No ejaculation, but continual orgasm. I contorted and gasped, moaned and laughed, and I felt what women feel when they have those unending orgasms—one after another after another. I was in total bliss.

I ventured inside to join everyone else—where Justin had set up the sound system and was DJing. Momentarily apprehensive about social norms and the appropriateness of orgasming in front of a group of people (some of whom I had just met), I cast all doubt aside, and fully embraced the moment. After all, why hide an orgasm?

The shockwaves persisted for a good 12 hours. For the first 25 minutes in everyone’s presence, I yelled and screamed in ecstatic joy “OH YES!! OH YESSSSS!” as I felt cannons of light flowing through my body and beaming through my sex organs. I contorted and my spine bridged as Kundalini energy exploded up my body. It felt like the bass line was a rocket ship strapped to my G-spot that was blasting off over and over again like the mushroom speed bursts from Mario Kart. I rolled on the floor and grabbed myself in a display that must’ve looked like I was having sex with all things.

This orgasmic experience was akin to a time I danced at Carl Cox at Opulent Temple during Burning Man 2014. Only this time, the orgasm never stopped. I danced, I chatted, I stood looking at myself in the mirror, I cuddled, I sat staring at the trees outside, played with a little Chiweenie (a chihuahua-weiner puppy), and bathed in the rain, and the orgasm never relented.

I began to understand that total presence is orgasmic.

Total presence: the idea of being fully in the moment. At the core of everything, if you go deep enough, is an orgasm. Whether the experience is joyful or painful, if you go deep enough, you will find orgasm—because to truly experience any one thing is to experience all things. Any given moment is the universe’s entire creation, and to feel that is orgasmic.

The orgasm, like anything else, is always present and always accessible. Whether you choose to tune into it or not determines whether you experience the orgasm.

Later on, Pandora and I engaged in a hug. She and I always get lost in tantric hugs, but this time was even more special than usual. Our bodies became weightless as we ascended to light star dimensions of love: light beaming through our souls and into the cosmos where we floated in colourful, zero-gravity love.

Afterwards, I was speaking with Lucas, and he began to describe his 2015 Ayahuasca experience to me. In doing so, he began drawing something. As he started drawing and verbally articulating what he was drawing, my eyes swelled with tears, my skin rippled with goosebumps and connection penetrated my soul. He described an experience that I had during my third Ayahuasca ceremony, during which I was merged with all, and bathing in cosmic life force, which was comprised of an infinite series of breathing "squares"—each one of which had a separate consciousness that combined to form the whole. T’was like a matrix of worlds and oversouls. Lucas' words describing his Ayahuasca ceremony from 2015 placed me back in my Ayahuasca ceremony from January 3, 2014. And, by “place me", I mean, I actually travelled back to my ceremony. Only this time, I shared the experience with Lucas. Together, we were in the infinite space I experienced in the Peruvian Amazon in a maloka at Nihue Rao’s ceremonial grounds. Our consciousness had become one as we transcended both time and space to exist in a different year and location—as real as anything.

Never have I previously had someone relate to me an experience they had that was exactly my own. Afterwards, Lucas expressed that he had never previously been able to articulate his Ayahuasca ceremony to anyone, but that when speaking to me, it didn’t feel like he was saying the words. Rather, they were simply flowing through him: a co-creation that both he and I orchestrated with our higher selves.

I then realized and appreciated how I can place my consciousness anywhere. I can transcend my identity to experience anything I imagine—whether that’s having sex with a 500-pound orangutang, or being a leaf in the wind, or a pebble that’s thrown into the water and causes waves to ripple outward from an epicentre. I can choose to experience any of that, simply by directing my consciousness there—a demonstration of how malleable reality is and how infinitely capable we are of manifesting our dreams. It’s as though I had an infinite menu of experience to choose from, and whichever one I chose, I could feel wholeheartedly. For the record, this is a precise level of awareness I’ve tapped into before, and I can specifically remember doing so in May 2015.

At another point in the evening, I walked into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. Colourful lights, sacred geometry and repeating kaleidoscopic designs filled the space while alien species appeared in my place. Depending on how I let my mind and soul run, hundreds of different aliens would take my place (all of which bore a loose resemblance to my traditional human aesthetic) per minute. Or, I could slow things down and interact with one or two aliens per minute. My face and body would morph into something more bird-like, or more lion-like, or more alien-like. I don’t necessarily have the words to describe all the different species, but each of them communicated love. Love is the power they carry and the energy they flow through me. And, in a sense, each of these aliens was and is me in other-dimensional forms (i.e. if we consider the oneness of all things, all the aliens are me—and you, for that matter).

My friend Emily came into the bathroom and asked what I was doing. I explained the above and then she and I gazed at one another in the reflection of the mirror for who knows how long. She, too, began morphing, and despite little verbal communication, we fell in platonic love, admiration and appreciation for one another. We then each pressed our noses to the mirror.

“This is what it’s like for someone to kiss me,” Emily said, as she stared millimetres away from her own reflection.

With my nose pressed to the glass, I saw into my third eye, inside myself and beyond, fractaling deepward as though I was in a room of mirrors, and the reflections continued onward and infinitely in all directions.

Later on, while staring into the mirror, my eyes would disappear, I’d see beams of light, our ape ancestors growing from my head, the alphabets and symbols of ancient civilizations (that I’ve never previously seen before, so I don’t know which civilizations they belong to), the eye of Horus, and all sorts of other incredible colours, shapes and patterns. Oh my, it was beautiful.

Pandora joined me in the bathroom and we chatted for hours about the cosmos, medicines, love, life, telepathy and everything, all the while the orgasm persisted.

Around 5:00 AM, I ate some food, and chatted with others--every one of whom is a walking miracle--before lying on a couch shortly after sunrise and thinking, “everything is perfect,” before eventually falling asleep.