DOSE:
smoked
5-MeO-DMT
(powder / crystals)
BODY WEIGHT:
180 lb
My journey with toad medicine was without question the most intense and impactful psychedelic experience I've ever had.
Let�s start with a bit of context. I was aware of the toad for years, but I never pursued it. Like ayahuasca, I was fascinated, as it seemed both exotic and intense, and I enjoyed reading about other peoples experiences with it. I suppose I placed it in the �if it was meant to happen, it�ll happen� category. In the meantime, N,N-DMT was readily available and provided me with ample opportunities for travel and exploration of self.
A small group of close friends were organizing a trip to Mexico, and I was informed that a toad medicine ceremony would be a happening while we were there.
Some of these friends had experienced this previously, in this same location (a beachfront property near Tulum) with the same shaman. For that reason, I felt like this was a good opportunity for me. I would be with close trusted friends in a safe place, and I could lean on their expertise to prepare for the experience.
Fast forward to Mexico. The property is beautiful and secluded, miles away from the tourist attractions in Tulum. We're all settled in and present, enjoying each others company, spending our days on the beach and the nights cooking and eating together.
I knew that the shaman would be coming in a few days. I knew that some of us would be partaking, a few were on the fence, and some would sit this one out. I generally wasn't thinking about it too much. I was a little nervous, but didn't want to put the experience on a pedestal. There was no sense in worrying about it, right?
The shaman arrived for dinner. He was friends with some of our friends, and it put me at ease to see them embrace, as they clearly had some history.
I introduced myself and we chatted for a bit. I can't deny that I was a little intimidated by his presence. How often do you have dinner with a shaman?
He'd be returning the following evening for the ceremony. He gave me a few general pointers: eat a clean diet the next day, stick to fruits and veggies, don't drink alcohol, and try to set an intention for the experience.
I did not talk through my concerns with him, as I wasn�t even sure what they were. I had a general "healthy fear" of this significant, and potentially life-changing, experience ahead of me.
The following day, we went out on a a long boat ride. Everyone else was drinking and celebrating, but I stayed sober and felt a bit somber. I struggled to be fully present on this expedition, as I was feeling nervous about the toad experience on the horizon.
I believe my anxiety was mainly related to control, or a lack thereof. Historically, with any psychedelic situation, I�m on my own timeline and I�m in control: of the source, the dosage, the setting, the timing, etc. This time, I was not in control.
We got back to the property to meet up with the shaman, and it turns out he isn�t there yet. He was on his own timeline, and therefore he was in control of mine. All I could do was wait.
I went for a long walk on the beach alone and watched the moon rise. It was a beautiful evening, with brilliant stars and warm breezes gently shaking the palm trees. I was anxious and killing time, not fully appreciative of my surroundings.
I closed in on a general intention of �being fully present� for this experience, with a hope that this could help me be more present in my daily life with my family, at work, etc. I hoped to take experiences as they come and bask in them, rather than speeding up the present moment in anticipation of the future.
The shaman arrived about 2 hours late. He had us all sit in a circle on the sand under the beautiful night sky. The constant sound of the waves crashing behind us was both soothing and eery. A few friends were also present, sitting outside of the circle. They weren�t there to partake in the medicine, but rather to "hold space".
He spoke for a bit about the origins of the medicine, how he got involved with it, how it turned into his lifes work, and how to open ourselves to the experience. He told us that he had extracted the medicine from Colorado River toads in the Sonoran desert, and how this medicine differs from traditional DMT or ayahuasca, which are both plant-based.
I did my best to follow along, but between his somewhat broken english and the sounds of the wind and waves, I heard about 50% of what he said.
The shaman spoke for about an hour and a half. After some time I found myself wishing we could get this over with. Much like sitting in the waiting room as a child with my mother, knowing that I�d be getting a shot from the doctor, my anxiety had me wanting to just get this over with as quickly as possible.
Some of those sitting outside of the circle �holding space� had tried the toad previously, while others had not. I found myself wondering why they had such patience to sit here for so long and listen to the shaman speak.
He showed us the pipe he'd be using. I recognized this as a crack pipe and felt another tinge of anxiety/vague guilt. He explained that he'd come sit with us, one at a time, to prepare the medicine and help us smoke it.
He started making his way around the circle. He spent anywhere from 5-10 minutes with each person.
He'd use his headlamp to take some medicine (shards of crystalized toad venom) out of a small tin, load it into the pipe, heat it up with a torch, and help with the smoking process: deep inhale, deeper than you think you can breathe, then shrug your shoulders as you breathe in even deeper, hold, exhale, and then immediately take another deep hit. Repeat 3-4x.
As he finished up with someone, they�d gently lie back onto their yoga mat, and he'd move along to the next person.
I tried not to stare too long at any of these interactions, as I wanted to respect people's experiences and give them privacy, but I couldn't look away completely. I observed that folks would lie down rapidly, and some moaned or laughed a bit.
He finally came to me. He had a gentle, caring disposition, and spoke softly.
He asked how I was feeling, and whether I had ever smoked anything, to get a sense of how much help I'd need breathing the harsh smoke deeply and holding it in.
Well, this was it. There was no turning around now.
He pinched a few small shards out of the tin and placed them in the pipe. As he heated it with the torch, it filled with white, milky smoke. I had butterflies in my stomach. As he brought the torch to my mouth, I took a very deep hit.
The smoke was warm and mildly unpleasant, although not intolerable. It smelled a bit like burnt tortilla. I exhaled, and he immediately held the pipe up again, encouraging me to breathe in as deeply as possible, and then breathe even more until I couldn't possibly take anymore.
Between the first and second hit, my visual field began to distort, and I noticed a physical buzz, like gentle electricity.
After the third hit, I began to slowly lie back. I think this was partially my surrendering to the effects, and partially to back away from the pipe a bit. I think someone was behind me, helping me to recline, but I'm not entirely sure. I could feel an intense energy taking hold, and there was nothing subtle about the effects.
As I laid back and closed my eyes, I still had some grasp on my surroundings. I was still in the physical realm, aware of my body, and was lucid enough that I considered telling the shaman "I am still here", to ask for more medicine.
I didn't want to be greedy, or tempt fate more than I already had, so I stayed quiet. I figured perhaps the medicine would intensify or �take off" in the coming moments. I did my best to be fully present and surrender to the experience, but a nagging thought persisted that I hadn�t inhaled deeply enough, and as the effects slowly faded, I was a little disappointed that I didn't push it further.
I was sitting with these thoughts as the folks around me slowly returned from their experiences. Did I not go into this with the right intentions? Is preparation really that crucial in feeling the full effects of the toad medicine? Sure, the effects were intense, but it was more of a visual experience, along the lines of N,N-dimethyltryptamine. It felt like a lot of setup and preparation for a predictable experience.
What's wrong with me? Why can't I just enjoy the beautiful setting and this unique opportunity for what it is? Why can't I just be present?
As the shaman began to speak again, I was surprised to learn that we had just gone through a �warmup round�. That wasn�t the full experience. Wow, okay, that explains it. I felt relieved, and then immediately intimidated again.
He explained that this first round was to get a "base layer" of medicine in the body, and to teach us how to properly smoke it.
Some folks opted out of round two. For a brief moment, I considered tapping out as well. Then it dawned on me that this unique opportunity may not present itself a second time. I was in for the long haul.
I had a noticeable lingering buzz, and some mild visual distortions remained. The moon and stars had glowing rings around them.
I conferred with my friend Y for a moment, as he was holding space nearby. He encouraged me to embrace the experience and to �just let go�.
The shaman began to make his way around the circle again. This time around, the plumes of toad smoke were noticeably larger. I could smell and taste it. I had a strange feeling of connectivity, like the medicine was already in me and was waiting to be activated.
When he returned to me, I told him I was ready for more. It seems that he received my message loud and clear, though I suspect he knew how medicine much I "needed" without hearing my words.
This time around, each inhalation was dramatic. I breathed in so deeply that my shoulders hunched and my eyes widened. I don�t know that I could have breathed any deeper if my life depended on it.
After my third heavy exhale, I began to lean back. Once again, I think someone had their hands on me and guided me back, but I'm not sure of that. I felt supported. The shaman was still with me, and I could feel those holding space around me.
The onset of noticeable effects was rapid. I went from 0-60 in about 5 seconds.
My field of vision began to shake and blur, and while there were some interesting visual distortions, I couldn't pay much attention to them, as there was something else more significant happening. My breaths became audible and were probably a bit dramatic, like a post-yoga savasana exhalation. There was nothing subtle about what was happening to me this time around.
As I leaned back further, I began to relinquish control, and my �self" spilled across the ground behind me like a bucket of paint. I felt like I was being smeared across infinity. It became quickly apparent that I was dealing with something very real... Infinitely more real and tangible than any prior psychedelic experience.
As I realized I was no longer in control, my slightly audible breaths escalated into louder sighs of concern. What does it sound like to exhale to the tune of "oh no�? That�s what this sounded like. I felt compelled to be vocal, as if someone was encouraging me to push out sounds. The experience was now beyond comprehension.
Any grasp on the earthly concept of �control� disintegrated, along with my field of vision, my sense of self, place, and time. All of these were gone. I was no longer �there" to even understand what these things were anymore.
And that was it. I had finally done it� My casual dabbling with psychedelics brought me down this path, and I�d finally taken it too far. I poked the bear one too many times, and now I got what I deserved. I �knew" that nothing would ever be the same from this moment on, for the rest of eternity.
My ego shattered into a million pieces of nothingness. I had fully released control of everything and disintegrated.
I didn�t �let go�, but rather, by opening myself to this experience, all control was torn away from me. I wasn�t in the driver�s seat, or even in the passenger seat� I was hogtied and thrown into the trunk. I wasn�t in the driver�s seat, or even in the passenger seat� I was hogtied and thrown into the trunk.