But I wasn’t sure I wanted to lose the brain the woods had given me. Not that I needed to remember every lyric from the aisles of the grocery store. Not that I didn’t want to be able to filter out more of what I saw flashing on screens. But I wanted to hold on to a kind of attention that could wait for answers to questions I didn’t know how to ask, and to hold on to a kind of memory that recalled whatever I needed as a means of orientation, as a way of knowing where I fit in the world…
Now, almost two decades after my return from the woods, I still long for a new kind of map. A map with the digital world and the traits it calls for, and with the old physical world and the traits it calls for, and with the borders clearly marked where the two realms conflict: where the border crossings are treacherous, where we’re bound to lose the parts of ourselves we value. So we know the trades we’re making. So we don’t get lost, and lose ourselves, in the digital woods.”
Boy writes on air the way my old neighbour Gene Crimmins says Mozart played piano, like every word was meant to arrive, parcel packed and shipped from a place beyond his own busy mind. Not on paper and writing pad or typewriter, but thin air, the invisible stuff, that great act-of-faith stuff that you might not even know existed did it not sometimes bend into wind and blow against your face. Notes, reflections, diary entries, all written on thin air, with his extended right forefinger swishing and slashing, writing letters and sentences into nothingness, as though he has to get it all out of his head but he needs the story to vanish into space as well, forever dipping his finger into his eternal glass well of invisible ink. Words don’t go so well inside. Always better out than in.”
Selected search terms that lead people to my site. Disclaimer: I am not a scientist. These answers are based on years of experience dosing myself and dosing with other people.
Bridget Riley
Can you dose after microdosing? How much time should you space between doses?
Everyone is different. I’ve dosed the day after microdosing. I’ve microdosed the day after microdosing. I always felt the effects. It always went well. Some people report short-term tolerance and the need to take a little more to feel an equivalent effect the day after a (micro)dose, but I wouldn’t necessarily advise that here. Wait a few days if you can between doses. Or, figure out why you may feel the need to dose so often.
(The Fadiman microdosing regimen recommends one day on, three days off. So if you want to take a big trip within a microdosing regimen, try sticking to on/off days, whether the dose is micro or not.)
How long will it last and how quickly will I feel it?
Depends on the size of the dose. Some people take so little that they feel nothing, just slightly happier and more focused throughout the day. I usually took 10-15mcg, so I’d feel something (more present, content, lifted, creative) within 20-45 minutes and it would typically last several hours. For me, 6-8 hours.
Why am I sleepy on a microdose? Why am I wired on a microdose?
Most people get energy from microdosing acid and may have a hard time sleeping or resting a few hours from the onset. However, I’ve taken recreational quarters at night many times and have been able to sleep at a reasonable hour. Some friends, not so much. We still don’t have a way to know how each and every person should dose because everyone reacts in their own way. I may even react differently to the same dose given my mental circumstances at the time. Some people report mania and anxiety from microdosing and studies have shown possible increases in neuroticism.
Fatigue from microdosing is not common, so if you’re feeling sleepy, you are likely truly exhausted and need to rest. Psychedelics can make you more aware of your self, your body, its needs and processes.
If you get too anxious/manic or exhausted/depleted on a microdose, it may be good to halt future use or seek help in case of emergency.
Can I mix a microdose with prescription drugs, like Adderall or Vyvanse?
You possibly could, but probably shouldn’t. Even mixing caffeine with a microdose can be too much and cause anxiety/increased heart rate. Slow your role. Protect your heart.
There were old men climbing the rocks and lying in the sun with their hands folded. There were small boys stomping the wildflowers. And I saw the ancient days. There were bells tolling and wreaths tossed and women turning in circles and there were bees performing their life-cycle dance and there were great winds and swollen moons and pyramids crumbling and coyotes crying and the waves mounting and it all smelled like the end and the beginning of freedom. And I saw my friends who were gone and my husband and my brother. I saw those counted as true fathers ascend the distant hills and I saw my mother with the children she had lost, whole again.”
The Passion According to G.H. — Clarice Lispector Agua Viva — Clarice Lispector Near to the Wild Heart — Clarice Lispector The Listening Society — Hanzi Freinacht The Book of Disquiet — Fernando Pessoa Me & Other Writing — Marguerite Duras The World Goes On — Laszlo Krasznahorkai On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous — Ocean Vuong An Ethics of Sexual Difference — Luce Irigaray Three Guineas — Virginia Woolf The Bluest Eye — Toni Morrison Notes of a Native Son — James Baldwin Trip — Tao Lin Oaxaca Journal — Oliver Sacks A Field Guide to Getting Lost — Rebecca Solnit Call Them by Their True Names — Rebecca Solnit AIDS and Its Metaphors — Susan Sontag Time Travels — Elizabeth Grosz Human Relations and Other Difficulties — Mary-Kay Wilmers Peripheral Visions — Mary Catherine Bateson All About Love — bell hooks Paradise Rot — Jenny Hval Shift Into Freedom — Loch Kelly Being Human — Martin Ball The Wisdom of Insecurity — Alan Watts Foucault in California — Simeon Wade The Hidden Life of Trees — Peter Wohlleben
Mental diagnosis felt like an act. A script I shouldn’t have played into. Some do. Some need to. Those whose function cannot find place. Like mine at the time. But I was passing through—turbulent heartbreaks, growing pains, clashes with Hims—and mistook role for reality. I overthought my relation to it, that joy and suffering, and tied it to a being beyond. I regret that now. Or at least can see it as it was: seeking, clenching, grasping. Am I nothing more than a need to reach? Maybe. I’m human. Some childlike essence that shows in contours when ignoring and blurring details of pores. Take off my glasses and focus on the obscure. The fuzz. That uncertainty between me and it. Subject in/to object. Still disoriented in space, lost along the way, I may trip a few times too many, but that’s okay. Because it’s only and not me at all.
