WHY I DON’T PLAY MUSIC IN SESSIONS

On Silence as the Only Form Worthy of the Absolute.

Music as a Subtle Form of the Veil

The use of music in so-called “psychedelic” sessions has today become the norm. It is presented as a guide, a helper, a protection. It is said to support the inner journey, intensify emotion, “open the heart,” or “aid integration.” But all of this rests on a fundamentally mistaken understanding of the Supreme Experience.

For at the root of this practice lies a fear — the fear of silence. And this fear is not insignificant. It reveals a deep inability to stand before the Real without escape, without crutch, without consolation. Music, however beautiful it may be, remains a form. And every form is a veil. To introduce music into a radical session — under 5-MeO-DMT or in a state of extreme transcendence — is to place a filter between the Self and the Self. It is to veil what seeks to reveal itself naked. It is to turn away at the very moment of crossing.

Truth Is Naked — Or It Is Not

When the veil of being is torn by the pressure of an absolute force, what arises is not an image, a message, or an emotion. It is not an auditory intensity, nor a majestic vision, nor a sensation of beauty. What arises is the Silence of the Real — a silence more vast than the cosmos, more dense than any word, a silence that is not the absence of sound, but the end of all becoming.

This silence, it must be said, is not comforting. It is not “peaceful” in the human sense. It offers no support. It contains neither welcome nor warmth. It is the shattering of the self in a limitless Void. And it is precisely this silence — this void — that music often seeks to cover. It softens. It humanizes. It colors. It gives mystery a shape, a texture, a direction. But in doing so, it distances.

Whoever truly wishes to expose themselves to the Absolute must renounce all forms of interpretation. They must abandon every crutch. And music — even sacred, even inspired, even divine — is still a crutch. For it orients. It stirs. It reassures. Yet the Absolute needs no reassurance. It must burn.

Emotion Is Not Realization

Music powerfully affects the emotions. It can open the heart, bring tears, awaken buried memories, amplify the intensity of the journey. But that intensity is not necessarily a sign of depth. One does not touch the essential simply because one weeps. The heart may open, yet remain unliberated.

There is an infinity of deep emotional states that lead nowhere. The ego may dissolve momentarily in an oceanic feeling — and then reconstitute itself, more subtle, more “spiritual,” but still intact. Emotion becomes a diversion. A consolation. An illusion of “depth” that hides the absence of true inner death.

Silence, by contrast, provokes nothing. It does not guide. It evokes no emotion. It leaves one face-to-face with powerlessness, with nakedness, with the irreducible. It offers nothing to hold onto. And precisely in that nothingness lies its power. For it offers nothing — it is.

Silence as the Axis of Presence

In all authentic initiatic paths, silence is the key. Not a moral silence, nor a decorative silence, but an ontological silence — a silence of Being. It is what remains when breath is suspended, when thought ceases, when desire collapses.

This silence is not something one does. It is what appears when all action ends. It is the unmoving background of all manifestation. It is Presence without person. It is the Path without path. And it can arise only if one stops trying to “accompany” the experience.

To play music is already to do. It is to attempt to orient. To support. To frame. But the fire that erupts in the session needs no frame. It is itself the framework of all that is. It is the Law. It is the Nameless Name. And it can be approached only through the most total abandonment — which is also total silence.

Why I Choose to Play Nothing

I have often seen, in those who experience without music, intense fear. A sense of void. A kind of existential dread. And yet, that is precisely where initiation begins — when everything is stripped away. When nothing remains. When even beauty becomes a screen.

I do not play music in session — not from dogma, but from lucidity. Because I know, with absolute clarity, that true Presence only emerges in nakedness. Because I do not want to offer a “beautiful experience,” but create the conditions for a passage of no return. Because I do not want the subject to feel guided, carried, accompanied — I want them to disappear.

Silence is harder. It does not forgive. It reveals immediately what resists. It lays bare every tension. It exposes the body, the heart, the mind. It makes waiting impossible. And in that impossibility, it opens a breach. It fractures the being. It calls the Fire. Not symbolic fire — real Fire.

Fire Needs No Ornament

It must be said clearly: the sonic staging of transcendence is a subtle form of betrayal. Fire — what traditions call Spirit, Breath, Brahman, Rūḥ, Logos — needs no support. It erupts despite the body, despite the soul, despite the music. And often, it erupts better without.

Anything added to the experience can become a screen. Anything meant to guide can become a distraction. Fire does not need to be provoked. It does not need to be accompanied. It only needs one thing: that the self die. That everything which is not Fire fall silent.

Whoever consents to face absolute, formless silence enters an intensity that nothing can imitate. They have nothing left to protect them. They are there, naked, suspended in the void. And it is in that void that Fire descends — without ornament, without music, without warning. Like a sword. Like lightning. Like death.

Experience Without Witness

I do not play music because I do not want anything to accompany the experience. I want it to be without support, without guide, without consolation. I want it to be pure, naked, burning, real.

I do not seek to create a “sacred context.” I do not seek to stir emotion. I do not seek to open the heart. I seek to annihilate everything. And what remains after the disappearance of the ego no longer needs music. It is music. It is silence. It is fire.

Whoever has crossed this Threshold knows that no melody can rival the roar of Being. They know that the only song worthy of the Absolute is the silence of a heart offered without return.

That is why I do not play music.Because there is nothing to embellish.Because there is nothing to guide.Because there is no one left.

Only the Fire.

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