THE GOOD PARTICLE – A DMT ADVENTURE
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL LAKE IN THE WORLD
Two years have passed since I first set foot on the wondrous shores of Lake Atitlàn, high in the mist-draped mountains of Guatemala. Surrounded by a retinue of seven volcanoes, the lake’s turquoise waters plunge hundreds of metres into a caldera which was blasted by an explosion so devastating that the resulting ashes can be detected from Florida to Ecuador. The naturalist Alexander von Humbolt declared it the most beautiful lake in the world.
Nestled on a remote shore is the village of San Marcos, which is as unique in Guatemalan culture as Nimbin is to us in Australia, or Woodstock in the USA. This tiny settlement became famous through its association with the Shamanistic classic; Secrets of the Talking Jaguar, and each year, its population of Kachquikel speaking Mayans swells with an influx of spiritual seekers from around the world. Yoga, Tai Chi, massage, natural therapies and a host of other New Age and traditionally inspired disciplines are on offer in this colourful, cosmopolitan enclave.
I secured myself a room in a dilapidated mansion on the shores of the lake, which boasted cinematic views, and was guarded by a knight in rusting armour. One beautiful afternoon, I left my writing veranda to stroll over to the neighbouring intentional community, only to stumble upon one of the weirdest scenes I have ever encountered. The terraced, lakeside lawns were, as usual, populated with a joyful ensemble of a young, colourfully dressed crew; the types that one might expect to encounter at a Rainbow Gathering or folk festival. Afternoon sun cast triangular, purple shadows across the calm waters, and Mt Fuego puffed dense clouds of ash from its torrid crater.
THE STRANGEST GATHERING
In the centre of the gathering stood a gaunt Mexican shaman (Emiliano), staring with harrowing intensity into the eyes of a chubby, bearded Canadian dressed in an Indian dhoti, who called himself Shiva. When certain that an understanding had passed between them, Emiliano produced a glass pipe from his embroidered vest, which he offered Shiva, heating it from below with a lighter as Shiva drew in an enormous breath. The Canadian swayed on his feet a moment before Emiliano snatched the pipe back and caught his unconscious body, laying him out on the ground. He took a long drag on the pipe himself, then produced a rustic rattle, which he played while crouching over his subject, singing in some unintelligible language. I was gobsmacked as the Canadian began writhing on the ground like a worm, moaning as though passing into another realm. The Shaman showed no sign of concern, completely engrossed in the process of guiding his charge through whatever bizarre journey was taking place – singing, rattling and offering water. Next stage for Shiva was to scuttle about on his hands and knees screaming, “I am so afraid, I am so afraid,” before finally collapsing in a heaving, tear-stained heap. The spectacle lasted a little more than ten minutes, and before long, Shiva began emerging from the trance. Several of the onlookers drifted towards him, offering him hugs, murmuring congratulatory support. Astoundingly, he seemed delighted with the experience, clearly amnesic of his terrifying display.
WHAT THE HELL?
Lana, my beautiful jazz singing flatmate, took me by the arm as I stood, bamboozled. “It’s the toad medicine Buffo,” she explained, “5 MeO DMT – six times more powerful than ayahuasca.” She rested her fingertips on my cheeks, imploring me to gaze into the wells of her clear, brown eyes. “They call it the god particle,” she declared. “You have to give it a try.”
“But it’s insane,” I stammered. “I thought he was well….gone.”
“Just trust the spirit guides,” she assured me. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for DMT.”
Soon, the next candidate was ready for his shamanistic adventure, a French yogi and self-appointed spiritual head of the community. After taking his dose, he fell dramatically backwards, hands draped across his chest like an Egyptian mummy, appearing for all the world to have passed well and truly to the other side. Again, Emiliano partook of the medicine himself, then carried on with his job, completely unflustered by the apparent death. My mind was abuzz. It’s fascinating but is it really worth the risk?
Lana introduced me to Marco, the apprentice shaman, informing him of my wish to take the initiation, although I had expressed no such desire! Barely 20 years old, Marco had a remarkable presence; loving, gentle, and completely open. “Listen,” I implored, “I’m a father and granddad. I can’t afford to get messed up here.”
“No problemas,” he assured me. “We will look after you. Buffo is the queen of medicines.” He enveloped me in a deep, life-assuring hug. “Everything will be okay, amigo.”
Lana was the next to suck on the glass pipe, and she manifested completely differently to the men. She crawled around on her hands and knees, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, clearly in the throes of intense bliss. Like the others, she could not remember her journey, but emerged in a state of extreme elation.
BUT SHOULD I TAKE THE RISK???
I decided I just had to take the plunge. Marco limbered me up, while Swetlana, a gorgeous Russian Qi Gong teacher had her turn. The moment the medicine met with Swetlana’s mind, I felt the blast of her ecstasy permeate my being, lifting me up sky high as well. Her eyes rolled back, and her mouth spread into an enormous smile as Emiliano laid her gently onto the soft grass. I felt as though she had unlocked the gate to this strange world that I had decided to enter, and looked to Marco for confirmation. “Yes, that’s it!” He confirmed. “That’s it.”
My heart was pounding by the time I stood in the centre of the group, staring into Emiliano’s wild eyes. He led me in Spanish through a breathing exercise, emptying my lungs then filling them to capacity. He turned to fill the pipe with the mystical substance, while I prayed to my guru. I pushed every last breath from my chest as he pressed the cold glass against my lips, then sucked hard, watching the orange glow flare like a lava-filled crater. My lungs filled with a smooth, sweet tasting smoke. “More, more!” He urged me. “You are a warrior!” Next thing I knew, the entire universe had been transformed. Nothing could describe the intensity of that sheer, formless experience, somewhere between life and death. Devoid of reference to body or personality, my being was filled with unfathomable vitality. There was strange light, disembodied entities, and perhaps some connection with Emiliano’s songs, but time had no relevance at all. When my awareness gradually seeped back into my kneeling body, I was whooping and throwing my arms in the air in attributable joy.
“Buen trabajo! (good work)” Emiliano cheered, jubilant. “Buen trabajo!”
Several friends encircled me, taking me lovingly in their arms and wiping swathes of sweat from my forehead. I leaned back on somebody’s lap as the purple rays of a setting sun formed a silver lining on the mushroom cloud which hung above the peak of Mt Fuego. A gentle breeze streaming off the surface of the lake soothed me as I lay in euphoria, a state which lingered to some extent for weeks to come.
I never asked about what my body was doing for the time that I was gone, and certainly don’t want to know!
NB All the names have been changed to protect identities.
Please check out my latest album “Love Me Tinder,” You can get a free preview right here
https://simonthomasmusic.bandcamp.com/releases