It has always been my recommendation and philosophy that everyone should have at least one psychedelic experience in their lifetime. I’m not saying that someone should take seven hits of acid and fry for 48 hours straight, but enough to offer an enlightened outlook on life. Having a psychedelic experience does not need to be illicit, and can actually be done within the boundaries of the law – depending on where one lives.
Salvia Divinorum, a member of the mint family and meaning “Sage of the Diviners” or “Seer’s Sage,” has been used by shamans in religious and healing rituals and ceremonies for hundreds of years. Although legal in the state of California, Salvia remains illegal in many other states and countries. I have been intrigued by the substance for many years and felt that perhaps it was time to try it. Having always considered myself to be somewhat divine, I figured I couldn’t go wrong with the “Diviner’s Mint.”
A simple search in Google will return numerous videos and websites documenting experiences, offering advice and detailing history. There was the same common sense advice that is associated with any other hallucinogen: don’t over indulge, have a sober person babysitting you, stay away from knives, guns and other dangerous objects, don’t mix with other substances (alcohol included) – the basics.
“This seems like a lot of marketing BS,” I said to myself. “This seems to be blown out of proportion and fabricated.”
The information in front of me had an air of Reefer Madness, only the purpose of this was to draw people into buying the produce rather than steer them clear of the substance. I wasn’t too sure what I could trust or believe. It appeared that the substance affected different people differently. It became apparent that Salvia would either solidify my fears of tolerance, or it could ravage my brain and release me from this boring curse.
“It’s definitely not weed,” was what I heard most from those who had experimented with Salvia. “Don’t go into it expecting the same experience. It is definitely its own beast.”
There are over 1,000 species of the Salvia plant in the world, and Salvia Divinorum is the only known species to have hallucinogenic effects.
However, all of this knowledge and advice would prove to be worthless if I could not find the stuff, which appeared to be the case for quite some time. Days turned into weeks as I searched the cigarette stores and head shops of Bakersfield trying to find the elusive mint.
Finally, just as I had given up all hope and was ready to call it quits, prepared to throw in the towel and head home defeated once again, I stopped to buy a pack of cigarettes at the shop near my house. An establishment that I frequent often and run by a woman who could only have been a gypsy in her earlier years, I would have expected to know if they carried Salvia.
Accustomed to my rants and diatribes, the gypsy behind the counter listened patiently and quietly to the story of my search, of my constant and relentless failures and of my apparent remaining option to bring the search to an end.
Smirking as I finished, the gypsy looked at me and said, “I have that, it’s right over there,” as she gestured toward a glass display case to my right. I was apparently meant to smoke the leaves of Salvia, as if by an amazing coincidence and nearly fate-like occurrence.
My goal achieved, I finally had the stuff in my hands and I made my way home victorious.
Salvia has the appearance of old oregano or basil – dark, dry, crumbly leaves in a small plastic bag with a butterfly on the label and a statement that the substance was “for incense use only.” Right.
It was just after sunset when I loaded the filthy leaves into my pipe and set them aflame. In my company were a fellow newbie to Salvia and my wife, who would not be partaking and playing the role of sitter.
I lifted the pipe to my lips and brought the torch to the bowl. Inhaling deeply, my lungs were quick to reject the smoke that had filled them, but the sensation was subsided almost immediately. The smell was horrendous and similar to that of a fish market, according to my fellow Salvia virgin. “Cow patties. It tastes like I am smoking a cow patty,” I fought to say with my lungs still filled with the horrible smoke.
“It smells like cow shit,” my wife concurred. “It smells disgusting, I’m surprised that you can smoke that and not vomit.”
As I exhaled the first hit, the sensation of my brain being in a vise came on immediately – as if my brains would spill out of my ears – and I notice an increasing low hum get louder and louder. I looked around and everything appeared to be shaking, as if by a nonexistent earthquake. A “mindquake” is a good word for it. As I started talking, my lips didn’t want to move and I was forced to talk through a tightened mouth, making my habit of mumbling become even more apparent and nearly undecipherable. It felt as if the world around me was on the verge of crumbling into nothingness, but was somehow able to sustain itself and keep together.
Perhaps this experience may not be as bunk as I had originally anticipated. I continued to smoke. A sense of “something” came upon me, waiting in anticipation for the next step.
Then, within minutes, everything is gone and I am back to normal. It was as if I was detached too soon from the experience, that I hadn’t taken enough. There were no visuals, no giggles, just the brainvise, the mindquake and the hum.
In the end, I was not as pleased with the experience as I had hoped, but am not completely pessimistic. Maybe with a higher dosage I can get a full vision-quest experience.
My accomplice in this venture experienced pretty much the same thing: an overwhelming sense of “something” and slight affects resorting to nothing after a few minutes.
The worst thing was the taste. That horrible and ungodly fish market/cow patty taste. The taste would stay with me well into the next morning. No matter what I ate or drank, there was continually the slight tinge of nastiness. Turpentine couldn’t rid me of this dreaded flavor. The experience was as if I had walked into the hallway of madness, but had found that it had been burned to cinders and there was nothing to see. It was a disappointment, but not a complete and utter disappointment. It is likely that I will have another go with the plant in hopes of my reality being torn asunder, rather than the paper cut it sustained in this endeavor.