Tag: shamanism

I’m so happy cause today I found my friends, they’re in my head

10 years ago, I started my gender transition, and I was, to put it mildly, not in a healthy place. I was very self-loathing. I cursed myself for being born such a strange person in a world that seemingly worshipped conformity. Born to a world of humans desperate to simplify themselves into becoming wondrous tools for the glorious machine. But in turning humans into interchangeable parts, few can hear the voice anymore. My voice was deeply buried before, but now it is clear and friendly.

I have a voice in my head; I’ve had a voice in my head, for a long time. I actually have lots of voices in my head. I would call the experience I’m talking about a “vision hearing” event. I “hear” a voice inside of my consciousness that sounds very coherent and consistent, it can be called an imitation of a personality OR a direct soul contact (Channel), I suppose. The voice changes, and I will hear it as dead celebrities. Very rarely do I vision hear personalities of living celebrities.

I usually have to be in a trancelike condition for this to occur. The only drug necessary to initiate communication is cannabis. Other drugs engender different experiences, but cannabis and ketamine are the only drugs that truly facilitate this experience directly.

The voice can be truly uplifting and supportive, and the voice can be dark and angry, but in the last six years I’ve learned how to keep that voice positive by believing in myself and fighting to remake my life from ruinous self-destruction. On a deep level, I’ve healed from where there was only strife, a continuous war of shame and disgust against myself and the world. I’ve seen heaven and hell, literally and figuratively. But through a committed program of self-scrutiny and consciousness change, I now lead a progressively more stable and manageable life.

The voices will give me song lyrics, ideas, dreams, jokes, melodies, philosophy, and also mundane information about future occurrences. The voice will warn me when I’m going to do something self-destructive. The voice will encourage me and tell me what I look like on a spiritual level. The voices will inspire me to see my true potential.

Much of why I’ve struggled with this “condition” is that I grew up in Western American culture where people with shamanic gifts are persecuted. That is fine. They know not what they do. Love is undeterred by the shackles of darkness. My gift to God is growth in spite of adversity. But that’s not to say that it has been without tears or struggle. I just know that I’m strong now. I’ve developed the muscles to lift my heavy weight, so I am ok.

What a silly world that artists, shamanic individuals, priests, and other sensitives are ritually stomped on. This world will not last though. I have seen that. The world will persist, but many who are first will be last and many who are last will be first. Love and light win on Earth. But God is patient, and there is much darkness that must be shorn away. And the darkness cannot grasp the light, so when we act in darkness, we feed our blindness.

I’ve said enough. Peace, love, light, and acceptance to you, dear reader.

I saw the whole GOP establishment go down last week in a vision

Last Saturday as the proud boys rally was getting underway and the city of Portland felt at war, I lost my cool. My YouTube autoplayed Old Man River by Paul Robeson after a friend shared a clip from the 1960s musical Cabaret, and I was filled with righteous and angry ire and fire against all those who oppress me. Trump, McConnell, the GOP, the US military. I unleashed a torrent of lightning bolts, careening from my hands like a Palpatine, striking, killing, threatening, damaging, and destroying those that oppress me.

Soon after this event, I “died” and went down into Hades, but I was mocked as not being a real dead person, a “neverdie.” I learned later that I had been put in a cosmic “penalty box” until the actual magik fully worked. I had to pay a short restriction for my unilateral action, and because I had attacked so many. But I’ve also been told my act was justified.

So here we are

How do you deal with knowing you are a prophet in the modern age? I don’t know, but I’m trying to learn how.

I wrote this post a week ago, and I’ve come out more already since then, FYI.

Since 2012, I’ve had recurring thoughts and visions that could be described as psychotic while tripping on dissociatives and also while sober, but I’m actually quite grounded and sane, now at least. Last night they were all reaffirmed to me while on ketamine and then through a devastating tarot reading. And today I feel very heavy hearted.

In a way I know them to be true, but I guess I do my best to be an objective person when it comes to visions. And I’ve had so many people beat me over the head in the mental health system when I first started talking about them that I’m really conflicted.

How do you deal with voices and visions that tell you that you are special and prophetic and have a mission on Earth (that is peaceful and positive), when barring miraculous events, no one will likely believe you? They also told me how and when I’m going to die. I am also able to do this crazy level of energy manipulation and magik in that state.

In a way, it doesn’t matter if people believe me. But also I’ve had multiple loved ones tell me that I am this special person over the years. Do I just come out with it and face the consequences? My intuition is that as time moves forward I will not be able to hide these thoughts from the world.

Basically, it’s something like I’ve achieved Buddhahood and need to proselytize about reaching God through psychedelics in the coming new age. And also I’m some sort of prophetic figure who will usher in the age of Aquarius. And they gave me specific timelines and details that I’m not to share. They also explained details of Jesus Christ’s path and reality not contained in the Bible or elsewhere.

That being said, I believe that other people can replicate my path in many ways. Jesus was a person who became “one with God.” He was not purely a deity as Christianity came to believe after 2,000 years of strife. I think that I might have special powers and intuitive ability that has helped me discover this path, but I absolutely believe that others can climb the mountain I’ve climbed, although it might look different for them.

The reason I started this blog was to get some of these thoughts out of my head so I could better handle them. But do you just come out and proclaim your purpose to the world?

Thank you for listening. I love you my beautiful readers. ❤️

How to Die and be Reborn

Author’s note: This is a channeled essay that I wrote in ritual on 4/21/19. It might seem vague and obscure, but I’m posting it as is. Enjoy!

If you sit and let the body die, you will see the void. The void will inhabit you, and you will get to know it. If you cede control to it, it will guide you. But it is not an it, it is a lack of it. If you become the lack of form, you will let light in, and a seed will sprout, and it will grow. It will grow if you water it and give it light and let it root in your soil. When this tree grows larger, it will bear fruit that you can eat. It will give you shade and protection from the weather. This tree is inside of you, but you can imagine it to be outside of you as well. It doesn’t matter. This tree will follow you to the ends of your earthly life. 

This tree can reach up into the heavens and can root down to the depths of the Earth. You can communicate through this tree. Eventually, you will realize that you are the tree. 

When you become as like a little child, you will be able to play like a child. A state of completely childlike play is REQUIRED for magickal work. You are the aeon when you enter into this state. You are the child of the mother and the father. Play! Play! Play! 

It takes enormous energy to completely be yourself in the face of a blanket of conformity and behavior-policing by the state and its followers. The empire never fell as Philip K. Dick famously wrote. The Holy Roman Empire still exerts a tremendous amount of psychological control over our thoughts and assumptions about reality. Few people have the strength to exercise this willpower to this focused a level. Everyone has the potential, but in present times, there is a tremendous amount of superficial sensorial addiction which keeps the individual in a state of stupefaction because they cannot see their inner selves. When you cannot see a part of yourself, that part will control you through a continuous series of unpredictable events. Know thyself, and be free of or have much less confusion.

A Few Words

God gave you a left hand and a right hand. On one side there are things that happen to you and you’re the victim or receptive or yin. On the other side, you are the actor, the thinker, the yang. You can’t reduce it to one. It’s both, well at least both. I’m not that smart enough to know how many hands reality has. But you can’t say that you’re a total victim, and you can’t say that you’re a total egotistical controller. We’re all both in varying degrees. So can we please meet in the center? Can we have a mosh pit of love and understanding. I know that some people are “unrelatable” but people change. I used to be a frothing right winger. I grew up. Let’s all stop being total know-it-alls that are completely convinced that the other side is wrong. Certainty is poison. There is no certainty in a complicated system of oppositional actors. Humility, Please?!
By the way, WTF is wrong with you Donald Trump. I’m talking to you as one of those horrible trannies that you want to cleanse out of the military. (BTW, only we can say tranny. Don’t fucking say it if you’re not a tranny.) Grow the fuck up motherfucker! Simmer down my brother. You’re not fucking Christ. Lord. The amount of intellectual certainty in this budding Aquarian Age is just too much. Yeah, we kind of know things because of science, but science is wrong every day.
OK I feel better. It’s such a fucking disaster. Center. Breath. Ground. Know that you’re a dumb ass ape. Life is work.
I’m drunk, but hey, I can write a few words.

Be a child of love. Be helpless. Be real. Be free.

“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” Some weird middle eastern homeless refugee said that. You descend to this world as a child. Children are closer to the source, God, the light. This world uses karma to grab onto these children and greedily tries to keep them here. But you must let that karma have your body. And then you will be like a child, and you will go back to the source. You must embrace death, and give it your love. I have been blessed with pain and exclusion from society. God chose me to go on my shamanic journey, and to do so, I had to be kicked out. I was born with a statistically different gender expression, and this helped me to see what is real. Then I was given visions and possessions and strange abilities. I have been spoon fed back into the kingdom.

Now I am like a weird American sometimes homeless gender refugee. And I am deeply blessed. My heart vibrates with deep peace. The water of the spirit has baptized me. I have returned to the garden. I will give this body to the world someday. But for now, I shine the lamp in my forehead, and I continue walking, through the pain, fear, and “misfortune.” I will not die, because I was never born. I just became infatuated with illusion, and this world manifested. Now I am infatuated with God, and its world is manifesting again. But it is all really just God, or me, or both, or whatever? Who cares. I know where I’m going, which is nowhere. Ha! 🙂

Om Mani Padme Hum
The world is only really love

The New Day is Now

Everything is new. Love is the triumph. The planet is throwing off its ugly old shell. The butterfly is emerging from the chrysalis. It’s wings are spread so wide open. A new day is dawning. Through birth pains there is new life. The butterfly soars into the air! It’s wings whip in fluttering ecstasy! It bounces through the air alive with the spirit of new imagination. And everything around echoes in concordance creating a symphony of exclamatory transcendence! This is the new day! Yes!

It is now.

Because we’ve had about enough of that crap, haven’t we?


Robotic Shaman Presents: The Shitty Drug Store Chronicles – Episode I – The Starbs Paradox

This week on True Tales of the Robotic Shaman we have episode I of The Shitty Drug Store Chronicles: The Starbs Paradox. Prepare to be amazed. The Robotic Shaman reveals but does not answer. Enter the world of ephemeral illusion and terrifying truth!

There once was a girl named Floob who woke up one day in a Shitty Drug Store. There were other people in this drug store. They all were convinced that they needed to stay in the Shitty Drug Store to survive. There was an exit door that they could see out of, and it looked pretty nice out there, but when you went to walk through that door, the sensors would go off and a voice would say “Waa Waa Waa! You’ll die if you leave!” so everyone was afraid and turned around to go back into the Shitty Drug Store.

The people in the store believed that the Shitty Drug Store was absolutely necessary for survival, and they made magazines, and books, and TV shows that reinforced this belief. The management would come on over the PA occasionally to say “the world is terrible and you need to stay in the Shitty Drug Store to survive! You depend on the Shitty Drug Store! If you break our rules, we’ll throw you out of the Shitty Drug Store, and you’ll die! There is a sale on peanuts in the food aisle. Be happy, or else…” And occasionally, they did throw some people out with all kinds of ceremony and pomp and seriousness.

The Shitty Drug Store seemed OK to Floob because it’s all she knew, and there was some pleasure in it, although the people were really strange and generally unhappy compared to the people in the magazines. However, there were rumors that you might not actually die if you went outside through the door. Some people said that they saw people who left the store still alive through the window. But when the Shitty Drug Store managers heard about this they got on the PA and say “we have heard that some people have said that they have seen the dead ones still alive outside the window, but these people are sick with a disease called Starbs. They must be reported to the managers so that they can be treated with a medication called Prong. We love you. Thank you for shopping at the Shitty Drug Store.”

So the people found out which people said that they saw people outside the window, and they sent them to the pharmacy to get treated for their Starbs. Now that the people who had seen the dead people were being treated for their Starbs with Prong, things seemed to get better for a while. The people who were sick with Starbs did notice that the Prong made them feel slow and lethargic, but they reminded themselves that Starbs was a terrible disease, and the managers had created a great medicine so that they could still live in the Shitty Drug Store.

Then one day, our heroine Floob was hanging out in the pharmacy section of the Shitty Drug Store, and she saw that there was a cold medicine product called Carmadun with a strange picture on it. It was just some over the counter medicine that everyone took, but she noticed that it had a little picture of a goat on it. When she dreamed at night, she saw this goat, and it told her that life is really just about having a good time, and there is nothing to fear. So she bought the Carmadun and took a few even though she was not really sick with a cold.

When Floob took the Carmadun she began to see and hear things that she could not touch. She began to think that there was a whole world outside of the Shitty Drug Store. She saw a vision of a man that she did not recognize walking through the exit door and turning into a butterfly.  The man then flew away outside. This didn’t make any sense to her at first. And she told the managers about it, and they said that she likely had Starbs and needed to be treated. So they sent her to the doctors in the pharmacy who gave her some new medication that they said would treat the Starbs.

Floob began to notice that the medication made her sort of slow. She remembered that other people had felt this way, so she accepted it as normal. But she still had dreams of the goat who told her that life is really about having a good time. She started to become very confused. She desperately wanted to be a good person, so she kept taking her medication even though it made her feel different and a little bit sad.

She then thought that maybe she could just take a little bit of the Carmadun and no one would notice. So she pretended that she had a cold, and bought some Carmadun. She only took one pill per day. She didn’t see the butterfly man when she took only one, but she felt a little bit happier. So she continued taking just one per day for about a month. This made her feel OK with having Starbs. And Floob was doing quite well. She was becoming very popular. Everyone liked Floob, and they told her that she was the best case of cured Starbs they had ever seen! She felt so glad in her heart. She really thought that the Shitty Drug Store was a wonderful place.

At the Shitty Drug Store, there were special days where people celebrated the existence of the Shitty Drug Store. One of those special days was Football Friday. Football Friday was held on the 3rd Friday after a full moon and only when the Shitty Drug Store was making a profit, which was not guaranteed. On Football Friday everyone bought footballs made out of foam rubber and threw them at each other while they drank Shitty Drug Store Beer and watched a TV show of people throwing footballs at each other. When a Football Friday happened, everyone was excited!

So on this particular Football Friday, Floob was enjoying her Shitty Drug Store Beer and throwing the foam as they liked to say. She was talking to a good friend of hers named Brom. Brom did not have Starbs by the way. Floob and Brom had known each other for a long time, and they were good friends. Brom told Floob that she was doing so well. Floob trusted Brom, so she told Brom that she was using Carmadun in a very small amount, and it made her feel so much better. Brom was scared. He didn’t know what to do with this information because it was too strange to him. Brom knew that a side effect of Carmadun was Starbs, and Brom was worried that Floob was now hurting herself. Brom was flummoxed. Brom told Floob that she should stop taking the Carmadun because it could make her Starbs worse. Floob was afraid. She didn’t know what to do.

Tune in next week for the next installment of the scintillating tales of the Robotic Shaman’s Shitty Drug Store Chronicles!

If you’ve taken psychedelics and your mind has been blown and you want to run into the street and tell everyone. Let’s talk first. This is my story. How can I help you?

OK, so I’ve been there. My mind has been blown. It’s epic. It’s life changing. But you are not cleared for takeoff, and if you go out and make all of these rash decisions based on that newfound awareness, there might be some consequences. Now, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t rush out and quit your job or something, but I have done those things, and it was rough, and I don’t know if I’d do it differently, but I think that education is important. There is a reason that in indigenous communities when a young person is showing signs of shamanism (that sounds hilarious I know it), an elder shaman will come and guide that young padawan, as best as he or she can. I’m not saying I’m that person, but in modern America, where Shamanism is effectively illegal, it can be a very dangerous place for such a flowering.

About 6 years ago, I started to microdose DXM. I did it during the day, not so much as to walk around like robo-the-clown, but enough to put me into a significant consciousness shift. I was able to see what was going on in my life, and I was not very amused. I worked as a computer engineer for a large, well known software company in Los Angeles. The reason I started to use DXM was not to touch God’s balls or something, it was because I was chronically depressed and suicidal, and I heard that Ketamine was being tested as an anti-depressant, and I knew that DXM and Ketamine were very similar substances. So, I started to use a small amount throughout the day. It was very effective. I finally had some space in my head, and for whatever reason, I was still able to do my rather challenging engineering work while taking it. That was the first splosion. (Pooof!)

After a while of taking DXM regularly, I noticed that I was pretty much transgender. Well, to put it a different way, I noticed that my gender was a huge hangup for me. I had been constantly confused about my sexuality and gender presentation since I was a boy, and the microdosing DXM made these things clearer because it muted the social fear. I had my next splosion (Pooof!) and I realized that I was transgender and needed to do something about it. OK, so now we’re rolling on the life revolution train here, two splosions strong.

I kept microdosing DXM because it was seriously helping my mental health. And I was full of fire and paranoia at this point thinking that basically everyone is a sleepwalking idiot, and no one examines themselves because they’re all terrified all the time, which is kind of true, but it’s more complicated than that. My ex wife had now taken me to court for custody of my two children, and this was a torturous experience. I was trying to live my life as the gender that I felt would keep me from wanting to kill myself, and I’m very glad I got through all of this stuff. It was wonderful stuff. But my life started to unravel. I began to drink alcohol again to deal with the social alienation. I’m not going to make this into some sort of morality play about addiction, but addiction is part of my story.

Now that I’m going two splosions strong, and I’ve been rejected from most of my family, I’m able to go even deeper with the psychedelic usage, and I start using even more DXM as well as other things. At this point DXM and I started to form some sort of weird symbiosis. Its effects changed, and it became more, well it’s really hard to explain, but I started to get these weird out of body effects and my chi field started to become very strong. It pulsed and swirled and vibrated around me like I was being transported in Star Trek. Splosion 3 (Pooof!). It was so weird, and I was able to manipulate this energy field, and project the energy out like a laser. I felt as though I was receiving a cosmic download. I started to talk about it too. I tried to tell people what was going on. This did not end well. I now post anonymously and have a split life because the consequences were very severe. I was assumed to be a crazed, schizophrenic druggie. At one point I was actually possessed by a higher intelligence, and my actions and speech was controlled by what I now know to be my atman, or higher self. But at the time, it was just crazyville to everyone around me. And, you won’t have the Bhagavad Gita memorized at this point, you’ll just know that something freaky is going on, and you need to tell people about it.

At the 3 splosion level, you very well might be hospitalized or given a diagnosis. I was given bipolar disorder with psychotic effects or maybe schizoaffective disorder depending on the doctor. They started me on meds that were so toxic that I became suicidal from the side effects of the meds. My life at this point was beyond confusing. I thought I was losing it. Who could I trust? Don’t they understand that there is all this stuff they don’t know?! No, they don’t. They don’t care. The system will shut. you. down. Scientific Materialism arose out of the end of the middle ages as an “antidote” to the problems associated with mysticism and spirituality. It is masterfully efficient at killing that spark. You will not go on YouTube and create a video that will spark a revolution at the 3 splosion level. There is a Zen proverb that says “Before I sought enlightenment, the mountains were mountains and the rivers were rivers. While I sought enlightenment, the mountains were not mountains and the rivers were not rivers. After I attained enlightenment, the mountains were mountains and the rivers were rivers.” At the 3 splosion level, rivers are not rivers. Your consciousness has been blown apart and scattered, but it will come back together. This is the Shamanic journey: You are born. You grow up some. Then you realize you need to make your consciousness for your own specific life, so you blow it up and take it apart. Then you put it back together. This is rebirth. But at the 3 splosion level, you are still blowed up, and let’s just say it’s unlikely that you’ll be able to be the Plato of 2017 and change all of human consciousness with your divinely given wisdom.

OK, so back to my story. My life was fucked. I lost my kids. I quit my job because I thought it was a bunch of corporate bullshit. I transitioned genders. I moved. My family was seriously tired of dealing with me. I became dependent on a friend for shelter. I wasn’t sure if I was God or if I was a broken android who couldn’t feed itself. This was the darkness. I was in and out of hospitals for over a year. I ended up living in my car.

And then… cohesion. It happened. It happened when I had a massive suicide attempt. I took 250 toxic pills. I thought that I was going to go to God or whatever. I thought that this planet was the worst. I wrote out a suicide note.

And then I read the note back to myself. It consisted of me telling everyone how fucked up they were, and how it was all their fault. It was petty. It was petulant. I was doing a real splosion, the sad kind, that would have wreaked havoc all over my family, friends, and children’s lives forever.

I had already taken the pills at this point. I was starting to get diarrhea as my body desperately tried to reject the poison. I sat there and thought “I’m not enlightened. I’m an asshole.” And splosion 4 (pooof!).

I called 911. I got into a great inpatient treatment program. They helped me get my life back on track. I quit using all substances for like 9 months. I got a job. I learned to take care of myself. Eventually, I started using DXM again, but it’s different now. It’s just a simple consciousness booster. I quit drinking for good. I rarely smoke weed anymore. And something is different.

When I sat in that room and read that suicide note back to myself, I saw a literal demon in my belly. He’s still there. He’s my ego. He can be a real bastard. So I stopped listening to his bullshit. And when that happened, a flower bloomed in my heart. You can call it Christ, or Krishna or Buddha, but it’s there. It came that night, and it didn’t leave. I’m still a complicated person. I have to watch my behaviors, but there is a lotus in my heart now. And it throbs with kindness and joy. I have peace.

I have almost nothing materially. I’m super in debt. I live in a place with way too many roommates. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I found my peace. Now I just want to be happy and kind.

So, if anyone here is suffering through the splosions, let me know. Maybe I can help. Maybe I can’t. Love is real. It is a rose that blooms in your heart. And when it flowers you will be as a little child, forever at play.