Bryan Brittain

My friend said I could share his experience that he wrote down: " Life Background Psychedelics have piqued my interest for years now.  As someone who watched philosophy YouTube videos, read articles on quantum mechanics, and often zoned out about the nature of reality, the mere phrase that psychedelics make you "experience consciousness is a new way" fascinated me to no end. But as an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I knew that was never going to happen. A few things changed since then. I began to better understand that psychedelics were a very different class of drugs than anything else. They were not addictive, had no observed physical side effects, and studies were increasingly demonstrating their effectiveness at helping cure people of OCD, treatment-resistant depression, and PTSD. They could truly be a one-and-done drug. All of these differentiated it from every characteristic that both made drugs illegal in the US, and in oppositio...

I set my alarm for seven hours and twenty-three minutes from when I go to sleep every night.  It’s the exact amount I need to get through the day without needing a nap. My parents told me that when I was a kid, I’d wake up every morning in an amazing mood and a large smile on my face. I am no longer a kid.  I’ve seen things.  I’ve learned about the world.  And when I my alarm goes off, I rarely want to be a participant in it.  At least not yet.  Just give me an hour or so…. This problem is coupled with the fact that I rarely need to rush to get out of bed.  I work by my own schedule, which is, as you’d expect, a lovely blessing and a wretched curse. I can just work a bit later if I get a later start. I could lay here for another 30 min, and it wouldn’t have the slightest impact on the rest of the world. Of course, it might have a little impact on me.  I’d feel like I was a smudge lazier.  I’d know I could have accomplished more in the mor...

  Me (guess where) with my 8th grade basketball team When we know a thing too well, when we are too familiar with a certain place or person or event, it becomes that much more difficult to describe.  Our mind creates such a realistic rendition of what we are trying to portray that when we retell it, we simply sketch an outline with charcoal and let assumption take care of the colors.  We forget what the listener or reader doesn’t know about that certain thing.  When the butterflies of love flap their freakish wings with the most gusto, write of hate.  When one is caught in the currents of people and cabs in busy city streets, write of the country.  Often, the most erudite of scholars make for the worst of teachers because they forget what it is like to not know.  On that note, I write this essay on being tall.   You see, although I was well watered by the constant rains of Washington I was raised in, my vertical growth is less than impressive...

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