The Manual of Psychedelic Support
March 17, 2015 8:43 PM Subscribe
"The Manual of Psychedelic Support is a comprehensive guide to setting up and running compassionate care services for people having difficult drug experiences at music festivals and similar events." You can download it for free here.
This is amazing. Thank you.
posted by ClaudiaCenter at 9:13 PM on March 17, 2015
posted by ClaudiaCenter at 9:13 PM on March 17, 2015
Bahahahahahaha. I'm sorry, the comedic possibilities are endless. This brings the lulz.
posted by jayder at 9:17 PM on March 17, 2015
posted by jayder at 9:17 PM on March 17, 2015
Humor is a terrible thing to waste.
posted by clavdivs at 9:26 PM on March 17, 2015 [3 favorites]
posted by clavdivs at 9:26 PM on March 17, 2015 [3 favorites]
We used to have call-in shows for this. Shows like the Rock 'n' Roll Doctor, and Ask President Carter.
posted by not_on_display at 9:35 PM on March 17, 2015 [5 favorites]
posted by not_on_display at 9:35 PM on March 17, 2015 [5 favorites]
SPIDER SPIDER SPIDER SPIDER
posted by ostranenie at 9:58 PM on March 17, 2015
posted by ostranenie at 9:58 PM on March 17, 2015
Sure coulda used some people with this book on one occasion back in '74...
posted by flapjax at midnite at 10:15 PM on March 17, 2015 [1 favorite]
posted by flapjax at midnite at 10:15 PM on March 17, 2015 [1 favorite]
It's nice that people are developing supportive ways of handling these situations. Maybe then we wouldn't have had that naked wizard guy get tazed. Not going to link it. Sure it made a bunch of people laugh or feel otherwise momentarily entertained, it also probably screwed up that guy's life for a good while.
posted by JauntyFedora at 11:50 PM on March 17, 2015 [1 favorite]
posted by JauntyFedora at 11:50 PM on March 17, 2015 [1 favorite]
Good for these people.
I was raised by a single mother, in the Sixties. In her innocence, she scraped together enough money to buy a run-down tiny house in Vancouver, in the (then) relatively-inexpensive Kitsilano area. This was one block from the Haight Ashbury of Canada, and the hippies who packed the three story Craftsmen houses across the street from us were all heavily involved in various mind adventures.
Twenty-five years later, I happened to be the Godfather of a toddler, whose parents also flew in those skies, when chocolate-mushrooms became a thing. Naturally then, they had some in the freezer downstairs, that 2nd Easter, when the child's grandmother was visiting for the first time.
Discovering these foil-wrapped chocolates in the freezer, she decides that (given the overflowing volcano of chocolate upstairs) that this, then, must be the super-extra-special chocolate. So, at some point, after finding them, she scarfs a couple down.
Wandering into the living-room, as the experience grips her, she interprets my playing with my Godson as preparing to steal his soul. Next, she starts shouting about devils and demons coming out of her skin, and the walls. "Jeebus" we're thinking, this is way over-the-top, even for Mary. Hoping to perhaps isolate her from whatever sensory-input was so disturbing, and possibly calm her down, we persuade her to visit the the downstairs-guestroom, to see if (in fact) the Gates of Hell™ have opened. Passing by the crumpled-up tin-foil wrappers, the sudden realization that Mary has just inadvertently dosed herself on Psilocybin, horribly sinks in. Never-mind those off-the-scale doses of cacao, and hazelnut.
We approached this epiphany bald-faced, and head-on.
"So. Mary? Good News! Those demons and devils? Yeah, they don't exist. The bad news is that you are tripping on Magic Mushrooms, and will be, for ... oh... about 12 hours."
Getting Mary down was one of the most satisfying things I've ever done. By the middle of her trip, as we were listening to Bonnie Rait, she suddenly realized that music was incredible, and demanded that we pass her a hit on the doobie .
The next day though, we sadly shot her in the face, with a Roman Candle. She whisperingly called a cab, while she covertly packed her bags, and fled for the airport.
posted by PareidoliaticBoy at 12:16 AM on March 18, 2015 [15 favorites]
I was raised by a single mother, in the Sixties. In her innocence, she scraped together enough money to buy a run-down tiny house in Vancouver, in the (then) relatively-inexpensive Kitsilano area. This was one block from the Haight Ashbury of Canada, and the hippies who packed the three story Craftsmen houses across the street from us were all heavily involved in various mind adventures.
Twenty-five years later, I happened to be the Godfather of a toddler, whose parents also flew in those skies, when chocolate-mushrooms became a thing. Naturally then, they had some in the freezer downstairs, that 2nd Easter, when the child's grandmother was visiting for the first time.
Discovering these foil-wrapped chocolates in the freezer, she decides that (given the overflowing volcano of chocolate upstairs) that this, then, must be the super-extra-special chocolate. So, at some point, after finding them, she scarfs a couple down.
Wandering into the living-room, as the experience grips her, she interprets my playing with my Godson as preparing to steal his soul. Next, she starts shouting about devils and demons coming out of her skin, and the walls. "Jeebus" we're thinking, this is way over-the-top, even for Mary. Hoping to perhaps isolate her from whatever sensory-input was so disturbing, and possibly calm her down, we persuade her to visit the the downstairs-guestroom, to see if (in fact) the Gates of Hell™ have opened. Passing by the crumpled-up tin-foil wrappers, the sudden realization that Mary has just inadvertently dosed herself on Psilocybin, horribly sinks in. Never-mind those off-the-scale doses of cacao, and hazelnut.
We approached this epiphany bald-faced, and head-on.
"So. Mary? Good News! Those demons and devils? Yeah, they don't exist. The bad news is that you are tripping on Magic Mushrooms, and will be, for ... oh... about 12 hours."
Getting Mary down was one of the most satisfying things I've ever done. By the middle of her trip, as we were listening to Bonnie Rait, she suddenly realized that music was incredible, and demanded that we pass her a hit on the doobie .
The next day though, we sadly shot her in the face, with a Roman Candle. She whisperingly called a cab, while she covertly packed her bags, and fled for the airport.
posted by PareidoliaticBoy at 12:16 AM on March 18, 2015 [15 favorites]
Bahahahahahaha. I'm sorry, the comedic possibilities are endless. This brings the lulz.
You don't think that people are entitled to autonomy over their own minds? How humane.
posted by lumensimus at 12:53 AM on March 18, 2015
You don't think that people are entitled to autonomy over their own minds? How humane.
posted by lumensimus at 12:53 AM on March 18, 2015
I was skeptical at first, but there's actually a lot of good advice in this manual.
posted by Obscure Reference at 6:12 AM on March 18, 2015 [2 favorites]
posted by Obscure Reference at 6:12 AM on March 18, 2015 [2 favorites]
You don't think that people are entitled to autonomy over their own minds? How humane.
posted by lumensimus at 12:53 AM on March 18 [+] [!]
How you got from my comment, to what you wrote, makes me think you may need to spend some time in the Care Space under the guidance of a seasoned psychonaut.
posted by jayder at 7:00 AM on March 18, 2015
posted by lumensimus at 12:53 AM on March 18 [+] [!]
How you got from my comment, to what you wrote, makes me think you may need to spend some time in the Care Space under the guidance of a seasoned psychonaut.
posted by jayder at 7:00 AM on March 18, 2015
I just might, at that.
But really, "bahaha" and "lulz" tend to imply dismissiveness. I don't know what you were implying, if not that.
Moving on.
posted by lumensimus at 7:47 AM on March 18, 2015 [6 favorites]
But really, "bahaha" and "lulz" tend to imply dismissiveness. I don't know what you were implying, if not that.
Moving on.
posted by lumensimus at 7:47 AM on March 18, 2015 [6 favorites]
"Do you have any Allman Brothers?"
posted by The Tensor at 12:14 PM on March 18, 2015 [1 favorite]
posted by The Tensor at 12:14 PM on March 18, 2015 [1 favorite]
The next day though, we sadly shot her in the face, with a Roman Candle.
Is this literal, or drug slang I'm too square to get?
posted by en forme de poire at 1:25 PM on March 18, 2015 [3 favorites]
Is this literal, or drug slang I'm too square to get?
posted by en forme de poire at 1:25 PM on March 18, 2015 [3 favorites]
Gemonian candles!
posted by clavdivs at 1:57 PM on March 18, 2015 [1 favorite]
posted by clavdivs at 1:57 PM on March 18, 2015 [1 favorite]
I'm 125 pages in and keep noticing how well made a manual this is, densely packed and well presented- just a beauty!
That comment about "meltdown experience" in the introduction is spot on. Apart from a few of those, here is my experience that turned me off partying. It's going to become a little bit gnarly if you read on. A few years back, at a small party on a tiny island off the west coast of Scotland I was jamming in a tiny croft serving as a chillout space when a situation burst in through the door. Then somebody was flopping around on a couch from what looked like (but wasn't quite) a seizure from too much coke and mdma while I increasingly realised I was in a roomful of people on mushrooms not very effectively dealing with the situation. Someone suggested camomile tea, somebody kept playing guitar and they were debating if it was bad enough to warrant calling air rescue. I knew the latter would have severe consequences on people's personal and professional lives (I kept seeing the headlines). As a guest with people who were longterm friends with each other they more or less ignored me whilst I was trying to work out how to do it myself in case this person was really dying. It looked fucking spectacular and a lurid picture of yellow tights soaked with blood from when she had been chewing her cheeks has burned itself into my brain. I kept checking the pulse, and time the breathing, which was difficult while tripping balls, and one guy, who the others seemed to see as a bit of a drug veteran, decided that she would be fine. That's one hell of a call to make. I sat with her and her boyfriend for the rest of the night as she got better. These people never talked about it again to my knowledge. I took a therapist's hour (a friend suggested Raymond Carver's "So much water to close to home" which helped too). To see the manual in this post giving so many examples of people doing this kind of work, countering the tendency of people to be like the Eloi from HG Wells' Time Machine, has also been therapeutic. Thanks for the post.
posted by yoHighness at 6:04 PM on March 18, 2015 [3 favorites]
That comment about "meltdown experience" in the introduction is spot on. Apart from a few of those, here is my experience that turned me off partying. It's going to become a little bit gnarly if you read on. A few years back, at a small party on a tiny island off the west coast of Scotland I was jamming in a tiny croft serving as a chillout space when a situation burst in through the door. Then somebody was flopping around on a couch from what looked like (but wasn't quite) a seizure from too much coke and mdma while I increasingly realised I was in a roomful of people on mushrooms not very effectively dealing with the situation. Someone suggested camomile tea, somebody kept playing guitar and they were debating if it was bad enough to warrant calling air rescue. I knew the latter would have severe consequences on people's personal and professional lives (I kept seeing the headlines). As a guest with people who were longterm friends with each other they more or less ignored me whilst I was trying to work out how to do it myself in case this person was really dying. It looked fucking spectacular and a lurid picture of yellow tights soaked with blood from when she had been chewing her cheeks has burned itself into my brain. I kept checking the pulse, and time the breathing, which was difficult while tripping balls, and one guy, who the others seemed to see as a bit of a drug veteran, decided that she would be fine. That's one hell of a call to make. I sat with her and her boyfriend for the rest of the night as she got better. These people never talked about it again to my knowledge. I took a therapist's hour (a friend suggested Raymond Carver's "So much water to close to home" which helped too). To see the manual in this post giving so many examples of people doing this kind of work, countering the tendency of people to be like the Eloi from HG Wells' Time Machine, has also been therapeutic. Thanks for the post.
posted by yoHighness at 6:04 PM on March 18, 2015 [3 favorites]
The next day though, we sadly shot her in the face, with a Roman Candle.Is this literal, or drug slang I'm too square to get?
No, it was an actual flaming fireball, from a roman candle. The grammar is confusing, for sure. It would have been easier to parse if I had written "Sadly however, we accidentally shot her in the face, with a Roman Candle."
We still get a laugh about how un-nerving it must have been to get dosed with Psilocybin, and as you're coming down the next day, to then get shot in the forehead with flaming pyrotechnics. She was convinced we were trying to off her, for about a year.
posted by PareidoliaticBoy at 7:23 PM on March 18, 2015 [3 favorites]
Oh my god, I can imagine.
posted by en forme de poire at 2:25 PM on March 19, 2015 [1 favorite]
posted by en forme de poire at 2:25 PM on March 19, 2015 [1 favorite]
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