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A Neophyte's Journey Into Entheogenic Experience |
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Written by Chloroboy
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Tuesday, 12 August 1997 |
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Page 2 of 2
Inspired by the sudden appearance of assorted butterflies, bees, insects and even lizards, I developed a surprisingly strong attachment to all of my plants. My patio was turning into an ecosystem of its own. Besides the improved aesthetic, other benefits soon became apparent. Suddenly, thanks to the herbs I'd raised to placate Jane, home cooking had gone from good to great as fresh pasta dishes and salad dressings exploded with flavor. And despite becoming tied--some would say chained--to a watering schedule, the morning time I allowed for gardening activities set a relaxed mood for the rest of my otherwise hectic day.
But there was a flip side to the tranquility I experienced working the garden. I became obsessed with acquiring new entheogenic plants and seeds, gleaning catalog after catalog online. It pays to do this because prices--not to mention products, company policies, and customer service --vary wildly from one retailer to the next. And while reading catalogs is hardly a substitute for reading scientific (or even anecdotal) ethnobotanical literature, the entheogenic enthusiast can occasionally supplement his or her knowledge by doing so. When I wasn't working or gardening, I was obsessed with shopping for plants and seeds. Must order Justica pectoralis. Must order catha edulis. Must order Salvia divinorum. Must order acacia maidenii. Must order phalaris. And so on. All of you neophytes have been forewarned. Just Say No to obsessive-compulsive shopping.
Back to the passionflower. I decided not to wait for the fall harvest and opted to order some dry herb. Using the Gracie & Zarkhov method, I dumped several ounces of passionflower and a large bottle of cheap vodka (it wasn't enough so I added water) in a crockpot, set it on low and let it simmer.
“Yuk,” Jane said, her face gnarled with disgust.
“Oh, it's not that bad,” I tried to tell her. “It smells like wet hay.”
“Yeah, fifty bales of wet hay.”
And we went on like this for the next seventy-two hours or so, me turning the crockpot on and her switching it off a few hours later. Eventually, however, the concoction turned into a thick, reddish-brown soup. I poured a few ladles into a Pyrex measuring cup and nuked it in the microwave until it was a thick brown goo, which I let cool before wadding it into a tarry ball. I considered this to be an extraction, but thankfully I didn't try any of it. “It can't be this easy,” I thought. And I was right. Shortly afterward, I learned my tar was full of impurities and that further extraction would be necessary. I dissolved the tarry ball in some vinegar and water, then added salt. Minutes later, light-colored particulates settled on the cloudy bottom of the glass. An couple of hours later, I siphoned off the top layer of liquid and repeated the procedure once more for good measure. I poured the harmaline-containing solution onto a plate, where it crystallized after several hours.
Bearing in mind all the MAOI warnings regarding harmaline, I decided to do my homework thoroughly before ingestion. After I settled on a rather restricted diet I could feel comfortable with, it dawned on me I had forgotten something significant: I've taken a low dose of Elavil for several years to control migraine headaches, which means I would have to refer to the PDR (Physician's Desk Reference) and research any possible contraindications with Elavil and MAO inhibiting drugs. The text was grim and cautioned against starting MAOI therapy until three weeks after complete cessation of the drug, which was to be withdrawn in gradual dosages.
Although I'm disappointed at the delay in experiencing the fruit of my efforts, my curiosity will prevail at some point. And I'll do what I have to do in hopes of seeing exactly what Passiflora caruela has to offer. One can only hope it is worth such sacrifice. In the meantime, however, there is much to be thankful for -- particularly that I am neither hypertensive, comatose, dead or divorced. And, yes, those are all good things.
Incidentally, with a little assistance from Ska Maria Pastora, I finally reached some definitive conclusions about entheogens, but that's whole 'nother story...
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