Musings:
We live in a culture that cherishes the definitions placed on things. We place value on the measurable, the material. Boundaries are entrenched and, in many cases, inviolable. “Wealth” is all about the accumulation of goods and money. The paradigm is one of limits, codes, and sanctions where memes rule the roost. For some, this culture is a sanctuary. For others, it is coming apart at the seams.
The psychedelic experience pokes holes in this paradigm. It renders void, if only for a relatively short duration, the seductions of our demanding culture. It coaxes the interdimensional dragon from its hypersleep. It reels the antipodes of the mind in with a type of extra-sensory rod. It breaks open the iron-safe of metaphors. And more. It would be exhausting to list all the things pertinent to the psychedelic experience here because, let’s face it, the mind is limitless. The mind is capable of accessing a boatload of information once the rational faculty has been bypassed.
An Interesting Tidbit:
Time magazine recently printed an article on the work of Roland Griffiths. Griffiths is studying psilocybin and its effects on behaviour and health. 18 adults participated in a recent study. A staggering number of them—94 percent—said the experiment was extremely meaningful and uplifting. Griffiths intends to study the effects of psilocybin on smoking addicts, people suffering from post-traumatic stress, and people suffering with terminal cancer.
Hopefully this research will help psilocybin (magic mushrooms) climb out of the disreputable gutter of illegality. It should have never gone there in the first place, but you know…what can we do? The volatile 60’s and the countercultural excesses inadvertently slandered the goddess inside the fungi.
An Experience That Never Broke Through:
It has been a long time since I’ve last ingested a psychedelic. The time seems right to explore that “Other World” always skulking behind the veneer of the persona. The sky is clear. Jewels seem to be trapped in the leaves of trees. Peace surrounds the world.
Psilocybe Mexicana truffles. A fruiting body of the mushroom. It is found under the cap. Kind of tastes like sweet walnuts. A curious ally on Dale Pendell’s “Poison Path”.
Teonanacatl: flesh of the gods. But not remote sky gods riding chariots of revelatory fire. Terrestrial gods. Goddesses. Androgynous ones. DNA gods. Molecular compounds playing God.
Dale Pendell:
“The gift of the mushroom ally is a special clarity and intelligence, a special and compassionate healing presence.”
Roughly 9pm. I have the mushroom truffles in some peach ginger tea. I am ensconced in the big, comfortable, green chair. Looking at the elongated neck of the siddartha statue (a neck made of incense sticks). So fashionable that siddartha. Listening to the latest Fleet Foxes cd, “Helplessness Blues”. Rustic country bliss. Vocal harmonies move across the surface of the music like wind-kisses on the flesh of water. Ah! The violin is such a spectacular instrument. It has an archaic sound to it. Very pleasing.
The sun is setting. The sun is like paint. Primeval paint.
Later down the road:
After ingesting the truffles, a bike ride ensued. I passed by some kids setting off fireworks in a field. Past a cluster of Siamese houses separated at birth—homogenous houses that are completely identical—there was (and is) a field populated with fireflies and their discontinuous light-festival. There were so many flashes. Dim and brilliant. Wild and wondrous.
Unfortunately, the truffles never delivered their psychedelic missives to the neuro-doorstep of the mind. I only felt light-headed. The dosage was probably too low. Next time will be different.
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