Astral Plane Crash
The first time I smoked Salvia, I was sitting on my living room
floor with my then-girlfriend. She'd just taken her
first hits to no effect. She reported feeling a little high,
but there were no hallucinations. No "incredible five-minute
trip," as her friend had described after his own first
We'd been warned, though: smoking salvia divinorum
is a bit more complicated than smoking marijuana or hashish.
There are certain things one must do in order to facilitate
the psychedelic's efficacy. First and foremost, use
a butane lighter: The leaves must be incinerated quickly
and completely. Your Zippo doesn't put out enough
heat. Second, use a bong or water pipe: The smoke must be
inhaled immediately and held for thirty seconds, and the
water can provide a cooling mechanism. Still, as my friend
discovered, even when one does follow procedure there's
no guarantee that the psychedelic will take hold.
Salvia Divinorum has been used for years by native America
shaman, though exactly how long is up for debate. Shaman
healers living in the Oaxaca state of Mexico are called
curanderos; in Mazatec they are called chotacine, which
translates as "one who knows." According to
the curanderos, they use it whenever they feel it necessary
to travel into the supernatural world in order to suss information
that eludes their corporeal selves. Uses include divination,
diagnosis of sickness and disease, and even locating missing
persons and objects. The leaves, which resemble their cousins
in the mint family, are traditionally chewed and held in
the mouth like tobacco or crushed into a juice.
At the time of this writing, salvia is legal everywhere
in the world and very easy to obtain via the web, often
sold by home-growers. Research shows it to be non-addictive,
and users report no increased tolerance after repeated use.
In fact some salvia enthusiasts report an increased sensitivity
after multiple uses. Presumably, their bodies have learned
how to process the active ingredient, Salvinorin A, more
efficiently and effectively.
My companion tried two or three more times, yet still felt
nothing more than light-headed. I refilled the little glass
bowl, hit it with the sharp blue flame and sucked in the
cool, white smoke. Immediately, I felt something lurking
on the edge of my awareness, something a bit frightening
and a bit exhilarating, something waiting to be invited
into my head. I quickly packed another bowl and fired it
Suck it in. Hold thirty seconds. Exhale.
Now then, there's something --
-- was coming --
And like -- that! I was in another world. I felt myself
pulled backward by strings that had suddenly and quite inexplicably
become embedded in my shoulders. I was a puppet dropped
by its master, now called back into action. The room around
me disappeared in waves of concentric circles, like ripples
in a pond. As I looked around me, my bookshelf, my couch,
my coffee table, my dog... All faded away as the waves
pushed over and past them, sweeping them out to an unseen
sea. And the strings -- they pulled me back to such a
degree that I nearly fell over and onto my back.
I knew my girlfriend was in the room, but I couldn't
speak to her. I could only motion that I was fine by holding
up my left index finger in the "just wait a second"
gesture. Despite my complete disorientation, I knew everything
would be fine just as soon as I got back into the room.
As soon as I got back into the room.
For what seemed like an eternity, I was elsewhere and it
was fine by me. My physical body didn't seem so important,
my struggles with the phone company, the electric company,
my work...whatever. None of those things were terribly
important. Life made a lot more sense on this grander scale,
and it made more sense for what seemed like hours.
While the salvia trip was more intense than any acid or
mushrooms I've ever eaten, it only lasted only a few
minutes, perhaps recalling the adage that the candle that
burns twice as bright burns twice as fast. The ripples slowed
to a gentle throb, a pleasant heartbeat surging around me.
Now, with every pulse, my bookshelf, my couch, my coffee
table and my dog calved away from themselves, chunks of
glacier falling into the surrounding water. The trappings
of my life were peeling away like the outer leaves of an
artichoke. Then the pulsing slowed to a stop, the tide went
out, and I was back in my living room, once again a forgotten
In my absence, my drug buddy had taken another hit and found
herself in her own other world. The only similarity between
our trips was the sensation of being pulled backward.
For the next hour, we sat on the couch, silent and still,
continuing to float. I enjoyed an incredibly vivid recollection
of my recent trip on the Underground from Heathrow to central
London. I saw the countryside rush past. I read the station
announcements and recognized the names that had not been
familiar to me at the time. I could see every person who
had been around me, what they were wearing, could hear how
they spoke. Of course, there's nothing saying that
the people in my recollection are the same people who were
there originally, but that's a discussion for another
After a bit, we retired to the bedroom but didn't
sleep. We remained a bit high, mellow but energized, chatty
but not overly animated. Eventually, we slept.
Four hours later, a little after 9 am, the phone rang. Her
concerned mother, calling to inquire if we were alright.
"Sure, sure, why?" I managed.
"Turn on the news. Two planes flew into the World
I hung up the phone and turned on the television.
"Are we still tripping?" I asked.
"I don't know."
She stared at the live broadcast on the tv screen. I hung
out the bedroom window and got a clear view of the burning
towers from my Brooklyn neighborhood. I grabbed the dog,
my camera and led us down to the riverbank, where we watched
the second tower collapse.
More than once since that day, I've wondered whether or
not I ever emerged from my salvia hallucination. Is it possible
for one to disconnect from reality, yet continue to function
in something resembling that reality?
There is a rumored history of depression and paranoia in
the lower branches of my family. What if my drug experiment
triggered a break from everyday life due to a dormant chemical
imbalance in my brain? What if there was an unknown agent
of insanity lurking just beneath the surface of my psyche,
biding its time, looking for the perfect excuse to throw
the switch from real life to not-so-real life?
Is it possible for my brain to have truly taken control,
directing events as it sees fit yet keeping everything plausible
enough so that I don't rebel against its control?
If so, then what's the difference between that scenario
and what we consider to be normal reality? Do not our brains
control all perception as it is? The classic bio-philosophical
argument comes to mind: How do you know that the color blue
you see is the same blue everyone else sees?
Who's to say all of this isn't already just
a construct built of my mind for my mind? What do the insane
see around them? Can one be institutionalized, sitting in
a comatose or catatonic state, yet continue to function
in his or her own world with firm conviction that their
perceived reality is solid and concrete?
According to one website, some salvia users have reported
"living an entire lifetime" during their trip,
or "becoming paint on the wall." Is it so far-fetched
to consider that I'm still in the hallucination? Shaman
claim to travel to other realms of existence, speak with
other beings and eventually return to their physical forms,
presumably with helpful knowledge or insight. Will I eventually
touch down, find myself in my living room a mere five minutes
after taking that second hit?
The problem, as I see it, is that I have smoked salvia since
that night and enjoyed similar experiences. It doesn't
seem right that I could hallucinate while inside a hallucination.
I don't know why, something about double negatives
or anti-matter meeting matter. Still, though... I think
of one of the warnings in the salvia FAQ:
"Individuals with a family history of schizophrenia
or early onset mental illness should be extremely careful
because strong psychoactives have been known to trigger
latent psychological and mental problems."
I wonder if it might be time to call my parents to get a
more detailed history of the family's mental background.
As if that will do any good at this stage.