san
far be it from me to suggest taking psilocybin mushrooms. it is a decision you and you alone must make.
should you choose to do so, i think it would be unwise to go into it with the purpose of advancing your works in any specific way. it will alter your mind, and it can do so in a variety of ways. visual perceptional changes are common, but not guaranteed. it is by no means sure that you end up having a good experience with the drug at all. i want you to know this before you decide to experiment.

apart from this, my general advice would be to

prepare, seek purity
find a safe, calm and beautiful place
praise God, be humble

Wow who would have thought a drug would make you see things that your natural sight ability couldn't.

Is it really seeing it through more vision? it's so weird.. but then again different animals have different kinds of vision.. but drugs do this?? odd..

amazing though alhamdulillah it has lead to belief and towards good things not the other way..

Sarah the change in vision isn't a physical alteration but a purely mental one. I still needed my glasses for optical correction.
the change in mental state is profound on every level though. a different perception of visual things is merely one symptom of an all-encompassing state of mind.

i use drugs as a tool to alter my state of mind. i have internal physiological means to get mind altered too

spinning - children do this all the time, spinning around, collapsing and slipping into a different state of mind that becomes easily accessable when one is "dizzy"

hyperventilating. Breathe too much, you get dizzy.

blood pressure drops. if i'm relaxed and prostrating, and then stand up straight, i get a headrush. this i've had all my life, and in my foolish youth i fainted outright a few times simply by rising from a chair too fast. i'm continually learning to use this quirk of my physiology as a tool for better prayer and remembrance of God.

drugs aside, i guess the drama surrounding my path is because i'm so bad at this. i needed to be stripped of money and material things, status, ambitions and so on, just to get what's obvious to others.
i praise God for all these tools that are available to me. i'm a dull, slow and reluctant student of my subject of passion. without this passion i would have become an entirely different person, in a bad way.

God has truly been merciful and patient with me.

that's a great story aalmakto. handshake
did you find that the experience altered your outlook on things permanently? if not, did you feel the backslide from this insight to be a great loss?

3918

there it is, thank you!

i think i will strive to reserve capital letters for things regarding God henceforth, for clarity if nothing else

i find free contact prayer liberating. i kneel, prostrate, bow, breathe, stand as i wish, feel that i must. i still think al-Fatiha may indeed the the Key, but it's not about the words themselves, but about feeling their profound meaning. God, Merciful Creator of Everything, my Judge and Saviour, Guide me on Your Path. Words can only take you so far when it comes to feeling.
in arabic they are some truly beautiful words though... ar-Rahman e-Raheem...

Not a week ago, I felt shackled and bound by what turned out to be falsehoods attributed to God. My recent rejection of Sunni islam has freed my soul and made my faith not only stronger, but easy to bear - or rather, I feel my faith is carrying me now, the way it should be.

I have had almost the exact same experience handshake. I also had a strong sense that we would be returning to the one God and that everything is the way it should be i.e. in submission.

I find this very intriguing. I have never met anyone who's claimed to share this experience with me before. Would you like to tell me more?

The journey continued

So there I was, on a small mountain top, committed to submit to a path not of my own choosing. It was laid out like a straight line, an invisible yet obvious laser beam of compulsion, straight as an arrow. I had to go down the steepest part of the mountain. I humbly submitted my desire to retrieve my backpack, two steps behind me, as I thought it useful to me. This was granted, as well as a general equipment check. With tautened shoelaces, tight straps and closed zippers I slid down the steep slope safely and went along. My heart guided me with force, yet submission was joyful and easy. It was around four in the morning, full sunlight due to the northern latitude and the season. I saw many hare and deer. Birds sang, flowers bloomed. I was surrounded by creation at the height of its glory. I had great clothes, good shoes, matches and a knife. I knew no fear, only gratefulness.
As forest gave way to streets and houses I jumped a fence or two, careful not to deviate. The city was still asleep.
I realised that I have walked to my sister's apartment building. I punched the code and entered, climbed the many stairs and knocked her door. Her man opened, sleep drunk but polite. My sister met me at the door, alarmed. I told her of my leaving, tried to explain, told her that I had to. I gave her my heavy key ring and adjusted my clothing by removing the insulating liner I had worn under my gore-tex shell. I hugged her. She cried. I was happy. I felt alive.

I walked on. Scandinavian suburbia, slowly waking up.
After a short wile I got on a metro train. A big door past the turnstile was opened by a cleaning crew, and nobody was in the control booth. I rode south to the end station, grateful for getting out of the city fast.
As I left the train and headed south I quickly reached meadows and forest. I stopped for rest and prayer. High, in every possible meaning of the word.
I walked for some time, and saw an old man by the side of the paved bicycle path, gathering nettles. I helped him. With his scissors and my gloves, we gathered the stinging nettles (cha-ca in his language) quickly. He spoke chinese and russian, I didn't.
Gathering his things, I noticed a prayer rug. I introduced myself as a Muslim, joy ensued. We both speak a few arab words. I told him I was on hajj.
-Mecca? he asked me. I shrugged.
The old man invited me home, and fed me bread and fish he had caught and pickled himself. As I ate, he patiently argued with his russian wife, who clearly thought I was insane, and that Lenin was what mattered, not God. She inspected my gloves, hat and sleeping bag and let me get on my way, less concerned.

I walked for a long time. I slept in the sunlight on a meadow. I walked some more. As dusk fell, I had some aches and pains. I had trimmed my toenails with my knife out of necessity, and I was getting blisters. My underpants weren't good, and my groin was chafing.
I walked past three plastic wheeled refuse bins standing on the roadside. I felt compelled to open the rightmost one, where I found underwear, all new and clean, neatly folded. It was all in my size. There being too much to carry, I selected the two pairs of elastic boxer briefs, the three pairs of socks, two black t-shirts and a white singlet I would later discard without ever wearing. I also strayed by going dumpster diving on my own accord. All I found was spoiled food and tempting but impractical clothes, so I stopped.

I was very hungry, feeling the effects of low blood sugar.
I picked up a paper bag, and it was full of candy. I deemed it all of the gelatin kind. I knew it was from swine. I searched my heart carefully and discarded the sweets.
The short night passed. Emerging onto a suburban villa street after sitting down to change socks, I was spotted by a man asking what I was about, noting that I was all dressed in black. My answers didn't satisfy him, as he took me for a potential thief. Minutes later I was hailed by a man in a big truck who insisted on giving me a lift. I went along, and he took me far to the north, meaning I had to backtrack for hours. I took this as a just correction for my previous mistake of falling for the temptation of the train. After this I walked exclusively for months.

I reached a small suburban center. The library was closed. I felt ravenous hunger. I pondered my options for some time, swallowed my pride and entered the small shopping center. The first man I asked refused to buy anything I possessed for any sum of money, called me a lazy bum who had misunderstood my religion, but told me I should ask "the Muslim who sells clothes". I sought out the mild looking man with shaved head, no beard and rosary beads. I told him I was Muslim, walking, very hungry and asked if he wanted to help me. He inquired for a sum and gave me eight times what I'd asked for with a promise of more later should I need it.
I bought peanuts, bread, flour, salt, yeast, instant coffee, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste. I still had plenty of the money left.

That was the first and last time for a long time that I asked anyone for anything save water. I haven't been without food since.

I guess the purpose of this post is to relieve my burden somewhat, and see what reactions I get from what I judge to be an open-minded group of people sharing similar beliefs to my own. I have never given this full an account of my story to fellow believers before, but this seems like the time and place. Internet anonymity can be a wonderful thing.
I'll ask you not to judge me for my use of illegal drugs. It's not something I'm proud of, but I recognize that I would not have become a believer without them.

My path to submission has been unorthodox, and profoundly mystical on occasion. I feel strongly that I've been guided on this path, that it is the path I must take. Every attempt I've made to stray has only brought me grief and heartache.
Some events I describe may seem overly dramatic, or even "biblical", but they are true never the less.

I was born and raised in northern Scandinavia in a secular home. I grew up as an agnostic/atheist.

These are some key events that have marked my path

The pillar of fire (age approx. 9)

On a winter night, after playing in a snow cave excavated from a huge pile of snow at the end of a dead end street. Beyond laid only forest forest for many kilometres. I was with a friend (who remembers this episode very similarly to my own recollections). We were walking towards our homes, our backs towards the forest. I heard a sound I can hardly describe, like a roaring, all-encompassing base chord in perfect harmony. Turning around, I saw what looked like a vertical, narrow rectangle, apparently some distance into the forest, significantly taller than the trees in front of it. It was burning bright with yellow fire. I stood there, transfixed, feeling a deep emotion I didn't understand. My friend and I both turned and ran.

The next day we ventured out on the snow on skis to where the thing appeared to have been, but found nothing. No prints in the snow, no road or path, no signs of fire.
I told my parents and anyone who'd listen about what I had seen, desperate for an explanation, but their attempts at rationalizing the phenomenon frustrated me. I was never called a liar by anyone, but I felt no one but my friend believed me. I hadn't seen a brightly lit construction crane or the launch of some fireworks. I hadn't heard a diesel engine. Still, I did not want to believe, and I (almost) forgot all about it after a while.

The first nightmare (age approx. 12)

During a high fever I had an extremely vivid and terrifying dream. Under my bed there was a complicated and infernal machine, I think a nuclear bomb, about to go off, about to burn the children I could hear playing outside, about to kill countless innocent people. Only I could stop it from going off, except I fell short. It was all my fault.
I woke up senseless, terrified, shocked. The fear and anxiety stuck with me for a long, long time. Eventually the memory faded, but the emotional scars remained somewhere deep in my soul.

The preaching (age 14)

All I remember from this is a momentary visual image. I was standing in a parking lot, about to go inside a dance hall (yes, the dreaded, most awkward puberty dance). Looking at the sky, a beautiful red sunset, everything looked different somehow, like I had learned an entirely different way of seeing.
Later, friends told me that I was quite out of character that night. They say I was claiming a different name than what my parents gave me, preaching about God with some eloquence, attracting an audience. I don't remember this at all, just seeing that sky in that way.
I didn't remember, and I didn't believe.

Becoming a believer (age 24)

Midnight, midwinter, no clouds, northerns lights sparkling.
I sat naked in a big hot water tub with a friend. I had taken a small dose of psilocybin mushrooms (my second experiment with this drug) as well as some cannabis.
In an instant, everything looked different, clear, full of detail and fidelity. The first thing I noticed was the surface of the water in the hot tub. I could clearly see interference patterns I'd learned about in physics class, but never truly seen before.
I lifted my eyes to the night sky, and I was blown away - it all became clear. Rather than seeing things like I usually perceive them, with all the celestial bodies projected flat and at equal distance against a black backdrop, I saw space. The newly risen gibbous moon hung there like the sphere it is. Beyond it space continued to the orbits of the outer planets, and beyond, and beyond... Then stars, more and more space, then galaxies, and more space still. I glimpsed infinity, from the very large to the very small, and my place in the middle. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
I realized at that moment, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the One True God had created it all, me included. I wept.
I felt this moment had a profound connection to what I had seen in the parking lot at age 14. My whole being was resonating with a beautiful harmonious chord, just like I'd heard when the pillar of fire was burning. I was not afraid this time, but overjoyed.
Then I fell from grace, chasing after Satan. However, I didn't quite manage to forget, or stop believing

drug abuse and depression (age 24-2

I desperately wanted to see again. I went about it in all the wrong ways. My heart was proud, and Satan was strong in me. I took more mushrooms, more cannabis, desperately wanting to see again. but for all the wrong reasons. I tried to steal enlightenment like a thief in the night. One mushroom trip burned me badly - or rather, I burned myself through unrighteousness. I fell into an emotional abyss where there was nothing but fear and anxiety. I was back in the fever nightmare I had as a child, which in a way was something of a comfort - I recognized the place, and knew that it was possible to climb back out again. It took two joyless, terrible years and the love of a woman to recover. The scars were deep. I have not taken mushrooms since that day.

Getting in shape (age 27)

Depression, gluttony and sloth had made me a fat. While walking alone, stoned, in the middle of the night, (wanting to see the sky, as usual) I got an overwhelmingly powerful feeling in my heart that God wanted me to do better. I had a "vision" of what my body could and should become, leaner, stronger, healthier. I bought some shoes and started running. I kept at it.

the first call to walk, defiance and thunder (age 2

I had stopped smoking cannabis for a period, since I felt it made me psychotic and anxious. My woman left me. My parents brought me on a trip to the mountains to cheer me up. I was riding a rented mountain bike rather than walking. I rode up onto a small mountain top where there was herd of reindeer in view, and felt a compulsion to smoke some of the cannabis I had felt equally compelled to bring in my pack.
I fell down and prayed, and got the strongest feeling of guidance in my heart. It was not words, but if I have to paraphrase it felt like WALK! LEAVE THE BICYCLE AND COME WITH ME.
My weak faith and fear kept me from obeying. I turned my back on the calling, got on the bike and headed down the mountain. Then lightning struck. The world turned bright white. I could feel a faint electric shock travel up my arms through the handlebars. The roar was instantaneous. I threw myself off the bike and curled up like a fetus in a little depression in the ground, beseeching God not to kill me, as lightning struck around me again and again.
When the storm had passed, I went home.

Intermission (age 28-31)

I stopped taking all drugs, including coffee, ran a lot, and stopped actively seeking God. I tried to forget, but couldn't quite do it. Occasionally, I would feel the need to prostrate and pray. I had some dreams that taught me some important lessons, but I felt I lacked the courage to continue seeking, and decided to do something else with my life. I ended up moving to the city and attending medical school. After some time, it became clear that I was on the wrong path. I desperately sought a solution allowing me to stay in school, which led me to try antidepressant pills and organized religion at the mosque. While helpful, that form of faith didn't make me happy, and neither did the pills. I didn't feel any inner peace until I let go of my worldly ambitions, accepted that medical school was not my path and dropped out. I felt lost, but not deeply sorrowful any more.

Second call to walk. Submission.

About a week later, one early morning in May last year I packed my bag, planning to pray at sunrise on a small mountain near my home. In addition to warm clothes, I threw some things into the pack that I thought would make for a pleasant morning, since I wanted to spend a few hours up there, taking in the view. I had a parachute hammock, a thin sleeping bag, a knife, some rope, a water bottle... I also brought a small amount of cannabis (which I hadn't touched in three years) and the means to smoke it. I left my compass at home, since I had a good landmark towards Mecca from my last time I up there. I left wallet and phone too.
I rode my bike up the mountain, got high, and prayed. Again, completely unexpected to me, the compulsion to WALK! LEAVE THE BICYCLE AND COME WITH ME. I submitted and walked, on faith, with no destination, feeling I was the most blessed man alive, feeling like a Muslim for the first time. Thank God for second chances.

The story of the walk, where it's taken me and what I learned along the way is a monster post in itself. Suffice to say that I didn't make it further than some 1000km before settling down among new friends, where I remain. However, I like to think I'm ready and willing to up stakes and leave it all, should I ever feel the guidance in that direction. I have taken many a wrong turn, stumbled and fallen on occasion, I but I have yet to turn back. This is my path, and I'm done trying to fight it. giveup