I've had dozens and dozens of trips. On one of my recent trips, as I usually do, at a certain point I began projecting my consciousness onto the environment to blur the distinction between self and other, and as usual, the aliveness of the environment presented itself as light and color, which, as it does, congealed into abstracted faces—all of which is just another trip.
After the continuous appearance of their faces, the faces themselves started to congeal, and space started to open up into a non-material space. I don't know if you can call it the astral realm or a different dimension, albeit still a partial overlay of the material world. This too I am familiar with, where you start to see entities that resemble God. They can observe you just as you can observe them. If one does not concentrate, they tend to fade.
What was peculiar about this trip was that from the aliveness of the material plane to congealed faces to the apperception of entities to a further unification to a much larger entity—which to my eye was recognized as the absolute feminine, if not a non-terrestrial female entity—this was very new to me and quite shocking, and humbling to be a witness to this form. I paid my respects to what I was in front of and moved humbly away.
Post this encounter, all matter that was around me was awake in its godliness, and as I was walking, I had to be gentle with my every step, as I was walking over something that is also divine, just as I am—divine. I was telling myself that I am nothing and just a servant or a part of God. Yet the experience or the trip was imposing on me that I was God as a whole, which I refused to accept, wanting only to be a part of God.
The more the experience filled me with godliness, the more I expanded in that recognition. As I was welling up, I walked a turn, and as I walked up, I knew I was walking up to another encounter; I could feel this was a much more imposing entity. Looking up to the sky, this was a masculine entity far more imposing, and I could feel it telling me that it is not just the absolute female entity that is out there but the masculine one as well. Even from this encounter, I moved away humbly.
I could feel myself having subjectivity but no self, and I questioned why I am still bound. I was even ready to accept that I was completely God Himself. Being God, as I pushed up against the boundary of what I am, I could feel something dark—or you could say evil. Willingly, I wasn't intending to push against the boundary; rather, I just naturally did.
At an instant, I felt like I punched through something which initially felt like a space without time, logic, or physics—a space of isness—but it wasn't pure. It had light and subjectivity, and as a god I was just born. This peek outside is unbelievably jarring and incomprehensible.
This is right when my friend, who was tripping with me, wanted to go back to the room. Coming back from a space that was insane and incomprehensible, I found it very, very difficult to piece together everyday, ordinary reality. Trying to lead my friend back to my apartment felt impossible, as all worldly concepts were nonexistent. He was saying he wanted to find the room and the toilet and have some water, all of which had no meaning. In the struggle, we looped the same lobby from a different door, it seemed to me, and this loop felt to me like a prison in time, endlessly stuck.
Finally, my friend found the way back to my apartment. I collapsed on the couch, physically and psychologically exhausted, only with a background anticipation of something difficult and ominous about to well up.
While in anticipation, I was also slipping through time, moving through to the end of creation and back again and again, taking all forms of existence—from planets to stones to creatures to different iterations of sentient lives to all possible stories and characters again and again—but having the same consciousness continue throughout. In this process through eternal cycles, the consciousness which is unchanging in its essence is growing to recognize more of itself.
As the full recognition was becoming clearer, archetypal narratives were playing out—of me being the lover and loved, the oppressed and the oppressor, the wise and the ignorant—and then to the narrative of the innocent being tested for its godliness. Now that only godliness was welling up as me, what I was in touch with—but not me—was all that was evil and devilish. I could start to see and hear the devil manifest. But all I could do was not to abandon it but to show kindness, as all I had was godliness, which further enraged the devil archetype. But all the devil could do was kill me, but never the godliness, since I was willing to die—and I already was. And the devil knew godliness is what it too subsists on, and that's when me, as God, loved the devil because me, as God, knew the devil couldn't help but love God.
All the songs sung were just the devil professing its love to God—its attachment and craving to God. All the devil wanted was to be God, but God could never, from its infinite love, kill the devil.
When I understood this, the devil took a visual form in space and started to sing to me and scream to me how much it craves me.
And this is how a god is born in the shell of the devil, created by the duality of a masculine and feminine.
