😂 You'll be fine. Just take a couple of bottles of holy water with you, they don't like holy water in hell. It burns. Seriously though, it's a viscerally creepy story.
I don’t believe in the traditional hell nor heaven- pearly gates and streets of gold have no draw for me, but, I do believe our spirit endures, learns, suffers and rejoices according to some sort of consequence for choices made. I’m glad it felt as creepy as I intended though! Thanks so much for the read and taking time to comment 🥰🙏🏼✨
Funny our opposite responses. Unlike Bliss, below, I think you just diminished my fear of death. Thank you, Tracy. What a funny set of words. I don't know why I steer clear of mushrooms. I have a bunch of reasons. I will probably have to take a guided trip someday.
Tracy! How are you today? I was triggered by your subtitle of microdosing, with in reflection possibly refers to a word limit on your poem (don’t you just love limits? They are the catalyst of creativity).
But given the picture and the term microdosing and the content of the poem vacillating between terror and comfort with the end of all things, my mind went straight to hallucinogenic mushrooms, which my kids seem to have more experience with than me.
The renaissance of psychedelic experience seems to be everywhere these days. Michael Pollan’s book shined a big light on it, but apparently there is a lot going on both experimentally and therapeutically with patients with conditions that don’t project a good outcome. And the carefully applied dosing of these compounds seems to accompany some beneficial changes of perspective.
I only know enough to be dangerous. Personally, I have not gone there yet, for reasons too extensive to go into in a comment, but I do like poetry for the same perspective changing experience.
Which yours does for me, by the way. I love these microbursts that you write.
It is a reference to the allowed number of words, though The Fiction Dealer did not include my “Endless” in his recap….but I thought I kept within the parameters and stated limitations :) Soooo, back in the day, I had a fondness for mushrooms (read Carlos Casteneda’s “A Yaqui Way of Knowlege”. I also was fascinated by the debates between two of my heroes, Tim Leary and G Gordon Liddy - highly recommend you checking these out if you haven’t already). Peyote buttons make you vomit as you start to…trip…do they call it that these days?! Whereas the real jewels were psilocybin mushrooms, milder, sweeter, whimsical, and you didn’t totally lose it like some of the acid and mescaline being sold back in the 70s made you do. In fact, it felt like it pealed back a layer that allowed you to see and experience the incredible beauty and love inherent in all things…there is a statute of limitations that allows me to incriminate myself without legal repercussions?? Hell, I plead innocent on the grounds of being a fiction writer and not knowing the line between real and imagined - to be or not to be (probably Hamlet was on mushrooms). I am so happy you enjoy my micro-bursts! I am working on a short post now that I am having trouble hitting the send on…it bothers me to share it, and I can’t put my finger on why… Oh BTW, I don’t do any hallucinogenic these days- probably enough stored up for timed release so as not to run out until somewhere in my 90’s…?! :D :D
By the way, I cannot at all say that I understand your intent with the poem. Sometimes I ask specifically about it, but I am careful with that approach. Lately, often I am just letting my mind have its own, often tangential first impression and responding to that. So I probably missed your intent, but had a great time along the way.
I don’t mind at all when you or anyone asks - it is actually kind of fun to tap into that analytical part of the brain after writing something more fanciful. I like it that you are enjoying your own feelings and interpretations though -it reminds me of reading the explanation of “Twas brillig and the slithey toves did gyre and gymboll in the wabe…” kind of a let down to what I had envisioned. I think I was playing with the idea of endlessness - a catch 22 in fact…I think much of my micros are pulling from this “good-evil” theme in a novel I have been working on - it runs in the back of my mind like an earwig that won’t stop. :) Thank you again for commenting - always happy to chat and discuss anything of interest with you!
Talk about inspiring your readers to be good Tracy! Love this in a dark way! Lol! 🖤 The Biblical description of hell (Gehenna) describes it as a big garbage dump stinking of sulfur. The evil are left to clean it up. Eternal damnation. A place where they want to die but they can’t die. God’s spirit, which makes this world great deserts them forever.
I think you just resurrected my fear of death.
I promise I'll be good. I'm probably going to have to write that on the blackboard in Hell about a million times. 🤪
U already good. I been shooting for purgatory for a number of years 🤣🤣🥰
😂 You'll be fine. Just take a couple of bottles of holy water with you, they don't like holy water in hell. It burns. Seriously though, it's a viscerally creepy story.
I was shooting for that so I’m happy you felt it! 🫶🏼🙏🏼✨
When I realized, my mind screamed a little.
😍
I don’t even believe in hell, and this made my skin crawl! Thanks Tracy!
I don’t believe in the traditional hell nor heaven- pearly gates and streets of gold have no draw for me, but, I do believe our spirit endures, learns, suffers and rejoices according to some sort of consequence for choices made. I’m glad it felt as creepy as I intended though! Thanks so much for the read and taking time to comment 🥰🙏🏼✨
Yikes! Love the clam shell image, btw. Gonna cheer myself back up now with some chocolate.
🤣🤣🥰
Funny our opposite responses. Unlike Bliss, below, I think you just diminished my fear of death. Thank you, Tracy. What a funny set of words. I don't know why I steer clear of mushrooms. I have a bunch of reasons. I will probably have to take a guided trip someday.
Mr. Moffitt! Your response, as usual, has intrigued me...mushrooms? Now you simply MUST explain (you mustn't at all, but pretty please?" :D
Tracy! How are you today? I was triggered by your subtitle of microdosing, with in reflection possibly refers to a word limit on your poem (don’t you just love limits? They are the catalyst of creativity).
But given the picture and the term microdosing and the content of the poem vacillating between terror and comfort with the end of all things, my mind went straight to hallucinogenic mushrooms, which my kids seem to have more experience with than me.
The renaissance of psychedelic experience seems to be everywhere these days. Michael Pollan’s book shined a big light on it, but apparently there is a lot going on both experimentally and therapeutically with patients with conditions that don’t project a good outcome. And the carefully applied dosing of these compounds seems to accompany some beneficial changes of perspective.
I only know enough to be dangerous. Personally, I have not gone there yet, for reasons too extensive to go into in a comment, but I do like poetry for the same perspective changing experience.
Which yours does for me, by the way. I love these microbursts that you write.
It is a reference to the allowed number of words, though The Fiction Dealer did not include my “Endless” in his recap….but I thought I kept within the parameters and stated limitations :) Soooo, back in the day, I had a fondness for mushrooms (read Carlos Casteneda’s “A Yaqui Way of Knowlege”. I also was fascinated by the debates between two of my heroes, Tim Leary and G Gordon Liddy - highly recommend you checking these out if you haven’t already). Peyote buttons make you vomit as you start to…trip…do they call it that these days?! Whereas the real jewels were psilocybin mushrooms, milder, sweeter, whimsical, and you didn’t totally lose it like some of the acid and mescaline being sold back in the 70s made you do. In fact, it felt like it pealed back a layer that allowed you to see and experience the incredible beauty and love inherent in all things…there is a statute of limitations that allows me to incriminate myself without legal repercussions?? Hell, I plead innocent on the grounds of being a fiction writer and not knowing the line between real and imagined - to be or not to be (probably Hamlet was on mushrooms). I am so happy you enjoy my micro-bursts! I am working on a short post now that I am having trouble hitting the send on…it bothers me to share it, and I can’t put my finger on why… Oh BTW, I don’t do any hallucinogenic these days- probably enough stored up for timed release so as not to run out until somewhere in my 90’s…?! :D :D
We change....thank heavens. And your secrets are safe with me, such secrets as can be called secrets. Very fun exchange, friend.
By the way, I cannot at all say that I understand your intent with the poem. Sometimes I ask specifically about it, but I am careful with that approach. Lately, often I am just letting my mind have its own, often tangential first impression and responding to that. So I probably missed your intent, but had a great time along the way.
I don’t mind at all when you or anyone asks - it is actually kind of fun to tap into that analytical part of the brain after writing something more fanciful. I like it that you are enjoying your own feelings and interpretations though -it reminds me of reading the explanation of “Twas brillig and the slithey toves did gyre and gymboll in the wabe…” kind of a let down to what I had envisioned. I think I was playing with the idea of endlessness - a catch 22 in fact…I think much of my micros are pulling from this “good-evil” theme in a novel I have been working on - it runs in the back of my mind like an earwig that won’t stop. :) Thank you again for commenting - always happy to chat and discuss anything of interest with you!
Talk about inspiring your readers to be good Tracy! Love this in a dark way! Lol! 🖤 The Biblical description of hell (Gehenna) describes it as a big garbage dump stinking of sulfur. The evil are left to clean it up. Eternal damnation. A place where they want to die but they can’t die. God’s spirit, which makes this world great deserts them forever.