A subject that has long fascinated me – and one that challenges long held assumptions.
Of course, we all bring our own set of assumptions to the subject, assumptions shaped by study, reflection, and personal experience. My experience no doubt differs from yours – and just as I can’t speak for anyone else’s personal experience, no one else can speak for mine. Neither can I deny my own experience for fear it might prove contentious.
However, Campbell’s observations and conclusions do provide a common language – one that confirms (for me) my own experience. Nevertheless, when speaking my own truths, please don’t think I’m trying impose them on anyone else. What works for me may not work for you.
Noman writes:
At the same time, I can’t imagine a future myth/ritual system that doesn’t incorporate a mood altering drug to some degree – as part of a rite of passage – or as ‘holy communion’ so to speak for the new mythology.
What do the panelists say? Will the new mythology incorporate the use of psychoactive chemicals – or will we be content with fasting and prayer and wandering in the desert for our visions of in-spirit-ation.
Of course, it’s not up to the panelists.
Will I dream about my anima tonight? If I do, will she have red hair, or blonde? Will she wear Crystal’s form, or come clad as Becca?
I tend to agree with Campbell on both the individual and the collective levels – it’s as certain new mythologies will emerge as that I will dream tonight – but we have no way of knowing what specific images will arise. However, we can recognize the forms as they arise – hence I’m not surprised when Becca bids me “Come hither” in dream, or when I encounter the resurgence of interest in third-world shamanism and consciousness studies that we see today.
This isn’t to suggest unbridled use of psychedelics is either desirable or inevitable in an emerging mythology; though crucial in the development of most religions, over the last ten thousand years (concurrent with the emergence of agriculture) the use of sacred plants has been
de facto restricted to a spiritually elite minority, rather than available to the general populace as a whole (as mentioned in “Mysteries Sacred & Profane,” it’s hard to get up and plow the south forty at dawn if you’ve been dancing with Shiva all night!).
Yet it’s undeniable that, numerically speaking, more people are partaking of sacred plants today than at any other time in recent centuries. All I’m prepared to say for sure is that this certainly parallels other instances Campbell identifies of an abrupt inward turn triggered by teacher plants – that of the sacred mystery cults of the Mediterranean world, and the emergence of the peyote cult in the late 19th century on the American plains. Both emerge from the bankruptcy of the popular mythology (in the latter case, because the sacred object of the buffalo cult had been destroyed). Both movements prove successful (Eleusis lasted roughly a thousand years, and the Native American Church remains a positive force combating alcoholism on reservations and providing access to an indigenous spirituality today) … but neither became the dominant form of worship.
Hence I suspect the same holds true for the turn towards psychedelics in the sixties, which continues today. True, more people are ingesting sacred substances now than ever did in the sixties – but they’re not all between 16 and 25, underemployed, congregating in San Francisco, sporting fringe, beads, day-glo colors and long hair (well, some of us still do … my curly locks may be graying, but they’re still long).
This movement signals a shift in direction in our culture.
It’s a shift easy to chart.
Joseph Campbell pointed out that in this postmodern age, absent a working cultural mythology, each individual must discover/create one's own mythology. Like the Knights of the Round Table, each ventures into the forest where the woods are thickest and there is no path.
Sociologist Paul Ray and psychologist Ruth Anderson label such individuals "cultural creatives" in their book of the same title. Pegging the population of the United States at 193 million adults in 1999, they break this down into a demographic study that presents some surprising statistics.
Ray and Anderson sort the U.S. population into three broad categories: Moderns, Traditionals, and Cultural Creatives.
In brief:
Moderns believe in economic and technological progress, material success, being on top of trends, and have faith in the power of measurement (e.g., detailed standardized testing in schools, gross national product, etc.), while "rejecting the values and concerns of native peoples, rural people, Traditionals, New Agers, religious mystics."
Moderns comprise 48% of the adult U.S. population, roughly 93 million people in 1999.
Traditionals make up 24.5% of the adult population, about 48 million adults in 1999. Many - but far from all - are politically conservative, and most share traditional beliefs: men and women have distinct traditional roles and feminism is bad; the traditional family structure must be preserved; sex needs to be regulated (pornography, adultery, abortion, etc.); the Bible is the guide to life; the government should support/enforce virtuous behavior; foreigners are suspect.
Cultural Creatives are more likely to be drawn to holistic approaches in everything from health to food to spirituality, are "aggressive consumers of the arts and culture," are more likely to be careful consumers, and often have eclectic, individualistic lifestyles. They are open to and interested in the beliefs and traditions of other cultures, and often adopt a hodge-podge of beliefs from all over the globe as elements out of which they construct their own spiritual practices. Cultural Creatives fuel "the experience industry" - weekend workshops, spiritual gatherings, experiential vacations, vision quests, etc. (and, the authors note, the vendors of such services "have to be Cultural Creatives themselves, or they can't do it authentically...").
Of course, since so many of these cultural creatives are following their individual quest, entering the woods where there is no path, most don't know there are so many others like themselves.
(excerpted from my remarks in the “Incorporating Ritual Tradition … “ thread, at
http://www.jcf.org/new/forum/viewtopic. ... 11&forum=3 )
This group comprises 26% of the population - roughly 50 million adults! That's more than the Traditionals - though of course the Traditionals are less scattered and diffuse than the Cultural Creatives, and so are easier to recognize as speaking with one voice, which gives them disproportionate political and economic clout.
Cultural Creatives emerged out of the hippie culture of the sixties - according to the Ray & Anderson only the rare individual could be so described prior to 1962 – but the open exploration of LSD and psychedelic plants led, as Campbell has pointed out, to “a more serious encounter with the religious practices and myths of the East – Zen, meditation, yoga, etc.”
That doesn’t mean fifty million people are tripping on acid today – but hard to miss an association here with Campbell’s observations: 50,000,000 adult Americans today embrace a personal, inward spirituality that proved rare, if not nonexistent, in the west prior to our encounter with the counterculture.
Notice that Campbell doesn’t pass moral judgments – he intentionally avoids loaded terms and projections as much as possible. Myths are effective or ineffective, successful or not successful in mediating our experience of reality. He doesn’t judge them good or bad, right or wrong (even Campbell’s well-known criticisms of Christianity are related less to the underlying myth – which echoes that of every other mythology – but to an ineffective, literal reading of the myth out of touch with our experience of the world around us). Hence he doesn’t say that the sacred mystery cults of Greece were right or wrong, or that the peyote cult of the Plains Indians is right or wrong, or that LSD and the counterculture is right or wrong.
Rather, he notes the beauty and insights arising from each, the success of each in conveying the inward experience, and the limitations of each.
I suspect, whether we want them to or not, sacred plants will continue to play a role in any emerging mythology. That’s not to say they’ll be the driving force, but they aren’t going away anymore than the shadow will disappear from dreams …
Clemsy writes:
I recall Dr. Alpert's anecdote about a trip to India to find a holy man to turn on to the new 'sacrament' as it were. Upon finding one, the guru grabbed all the good doctor's acid... a handful of LSD-25 tabs, and ate them all. A little while later the sage said, "So?"
Alpert became a follower of the sage, who gave him a new name, Ram Dass, whom Bodhi does mention in his essay, and the rest is history.
A very interesting tale indeed. Ram Dass had wandered India seeking a true mystic - an enlightened being who could tell him whether or not LSD provided an authentic mystical experience. Upon finally encountering the guru, Ram Dass thinks
”Wow! I’ve finally met a guy who is going to Know! He will definitely know what LSD is. I’ll have to ask him. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll ask him.”
…He looked at me and extended his hand. So I put in his hand what’s called a “White Lightning”. This is an LSD pill and this one was from a special batch that had been made specially for me for traveling. And each pill was 305 micrograms, and very pure. Very good acid. Usually you start a man over 60, maybe with 50 to 75 micrograms, very gently, so you won’t upset him. 300 of pure acid is a very solid dose.
He looks at the pill and extends his hand further. So I put a second pill – that’s 610 micrograms – then a third pill – that’s 915 micrograms – into his palm.
That is a sizeable first dose for anyone!
“Ah-cha.”
And he swallows them. I see them go down. There’s no doubt. And the little scientist in me says, “This is going to be interesting!”
All day long I’m there, and every now and then he twinkles at me and nothing – nothing happens! That was his answer to my question. Now you have the data I have.
Ram Dass, Be Here Now
I suppose one can interpret the data anyway one wants – but, coupled with the results of Pahnke’s Good Friday experiment and the experience of the seminarians described in “Mysteries Sacred & Profane,” that of other experiments that have duplicated these results, as well as the accounts of others with depth experience in yoga and other mystical disciplines who have consumed entheogens, as well as my own experience approaching three decades of regular meditation, I interpret Ram Dass’ guru’s “no answer” answer as an affirmation of the relative lack of distinction between mystical and psychedelic states of consciousness.
Bliss 5150 writes:
The problem is people who do drugs seem to overly admire other people who do drugs.
It’s not that I disagree with you here, Bliss, but this strikes me as painting with an overly broad brush.
“People who do drugs” lumps the 20,000 of us who build a village on a remote mountaintop every summer to participate in a collective ritual - a vision quest and healing rite occasioned through the ingestion of traditionally sacred plants – in the same category with coke addicts, heroin junkies, and meth fiends – an effective if oblique argument
ad hominenm (not that you intend that). We build structures from fallen logs, dig fire pits and construct drum circles, erect theaters, haul in food (for free) for 20,000 people, dig, stock, and bury latrines, haul out garbage and recycling, all to make possible a collective sacred ritual experience and provide space and spiritual support for individual rituals, from sweat lodge ceremonies to Hindu fire rituals. This is a recent tradition, maintained for over 30 years, echoing parallel ceremonies stretching back millennia.
This ritual involves serious personal spiritual commitment, and is qualitatively and experientially light-years removed from having to snort a line of blow every 20 minutes, down a pint of rum, smoke meth, or steal someone’s purse in order to afford the heroin to fill the syringe. (Come to think of it, when was the last time anyone witnessed a junkie hike five miles back and forth with loaded backpacks and work ten hour days chopping wood, hauling rocks, building community ovens out of mud and stone, or laying miles of pipe from mountain springs to dozens of community kitchens?) Indeed, our gatherings are focused on spiritual healing, and “drugs” – alcohol, cocaine, etc – are banned from the ceremonial site (and if someone does happen to be quaffing a beer in the parking meadow, they’re generally sober by the time they hike several miles with a full backpack and set up camp).
I engage in this ritual most summers (though I only partake of psychoactive substances roughly every other annual gathering I’m able to attend). I don’t think of this as “doing drugs” – certainly not in the sense most people intend by the term - nor do I “admire people who do drugs.” I have been through a period of my life when I abused drugs in the traditional sense and so know what it is to “do drugs” – and my experience with psychedelics is markedly different from that of cocaine or similar hardcore chemical substances.
(As an aside, I’ll note that powders – cocaine, crank [methamphetamine], heroin, etc., strike me as enhancing and amplifying ego to the point where eventually it’s all about me me me – satisfying ego cravings to the exclusion of all other concerns, particularly the needs of others – whereas psychedelics dissolve ego and allow the experience of undifferentiated consciousness – and can lower barriers between individual egos - a tangent maybe worth exploring.)
That
caveat aside, you do have a point. Naturally whatever the experience – whether meditation, ballet, skydiving, psychedelics, or learning German - the best qualified guides are those who enjoy a degree of familiarity with what they’re teaching. I wouldn’t apprentice myself to a carpenter to learn cardiovascular surgery, nor join the Jehovah’s Witnesses to experience the
satori of Zen – and I wouldn’t ask the Pope for advice on how to bring my partner to orgasm.
I recall one of the criticisms traditionalists in mystical disciplines often leveled during the psychedelic era was that there was no sense of ritual structure to the psychedelics, and no elders to initiate novices … but then when such ritual structure spontaneously emerged (which we see beginning to appear as far back as the fifties with the emphasis on “set” and “setting,” eventually revealing the complex structure Grof identifies in the individual experience) and when experienced guides stepped forward, they were derided as “druggies” rather than serious practitioners. (An all too common attitude is typified by one lady I encountered who took umbrage with Dr. Grof’s research not on the basis of any flaws in his data collection or departure from the scientific method, but because she simply wouldn’t read “any book that’s sold in a head shop” – which, come to think of it, allows us to dispense with Campbell as well …). It is interesting how respected professionals with solid credentials, like anthropologist Jeremy Narby, or Grof, find their work automatically discounted by the academy when those same valued skills and methods are employed to investigate this taboo field.
That’s where Campbell is unique, since his work – which arrives at parallel conclusions – can’t be dismissed as that of a drug advocate.
However, I don’t “admire” Stanislav Grof or Joseph Campbell or Terence McKenna or Plato or Carl Jung or Buddha or Alan Watts, etc., because they do or don’t “do drugs,” but because their work rings true in my experience.
Bliss 5150 adds: Most drug-visions shamans or "non-hallucinogen" philosophers arrive at the same place: the suburbs of Spiritus Mundi - the mediocre.
For those special people (drugs or not) which compromise an extremely rare percent of the populous - they take different roads and arrive at the same place.
Point well taken, Bliss. There are many portals into an authentic spiritual experience.
Those who experience illumination don’t seem to waste too much energy on debating the merits of individual paths – each takes the road most appropriate to him or her, whether we are talking a Huichol shaman, a yoga adept, a Zen roshi, an Eleusinian initiate, or a Trappist monk. That’s a perspective I cherish in Campbell – he doesn’t qualify the experience, suggest the experience of an aboriginal shaman is less than that of a Dalai Lama, or that the realizations from sacred plants in Greece or among the Lakota Sioux (or the hippies, for that matter) are inferior to parallel illuminations from other traditions. He
does, in the midst of the chaos of the sixties, express concern for the seeming rudderlessness of the youth culture – but over time order does emerge from that chaos, as described in my essay.
However, it is true that not everyone who takes an entheogen reaches the stage of the experience that Grof identified. Many did have shallow experiences, or no working context within which to process their experience … but then, the same holds for mediation. Many of those who started meditating about the same time I did, some twenty-seven years ago, gained no benefit, no insight, and simply faded away (heck, I had several false starts myself), and I’ve known many since who started meditation, who sat zazen for awhile or took some yoga classes, but progress no further. “Dabbling” and “experimentation” are hardly unique to psychedelics.
Similarly the dangers.
Campbell and Grof are among those who have pointed out the risks of psychotic breaks not just among those exposed to psychedelics, but among new practitioners of meditation and yoga, particularly in the absence of proper guidance and a means of processing the experience. These disciplines can trigger a soul-shattering encounter with the archetypal unconscious – and such spiritual emergencies, little understood in western culture, often lead to mistaken diagnoses, forced hospitalization, and treatment with powerful anti-psychotic drugs (Stan Grof and his wife Christina, a former student of Campbell’s who experienced a spontaneous, non-drug-related kundalini awakening that threatened her sanity and led her to consult her old college teacher – who then introduced her to Grof – proved instrumental in adding a category to the DSM-IV diagnostic manual recognizing such spiritual crises as distinct from true mental illness.). Indeed, Campbell describes the shamanic crisis in every culture as a schizophrenic break with reality (ironically often resolved through the use of psychoactive elixirs).
The risk of a break with reality triggered by yoga, which in my personal experience I’ve observed more often than with psychedelics, is no reason to avoid yoga or meditation – but serves as a caution for anyone on a spiritual path. Joseph Campbell points out that most people he knew who started meditating ended up with broken marriages … is this then a reason not to meditate?
Bliss 5150 adds:
The hallucinogen is within us all, I think it will not matter how one taps it (mechanical/accidental).
I couldn’t agree more. I’ll admit I am sometimes reluctant to discuss my personal experience, however, as so many people get hung up on common stereotypes, and so tend to miss the point.
Project Deity writes:
Drugs bypass the journey that not only brings about new levels of consciousness but also puts them into context for the individual, at least as they are used in the West. In some ritual traditions they are an aspect of the journey, but... let's be honest. For most of us, this isn't the case.
Well yes, let’s be honest. Of course, I can’t quibble with your experience – but we can’t extrapolate that experience out to “most of us.” That certainly doesn’t ring true with my experience, nor with that of hundreds I know personally, and of thousands I associate with regularly.
And beyond personal and anecdotal experience, many researchers have explored the subject – particularly Campbell's friend, Stanislav Grof, one of the pillars of transpersonal psychology, who legally monitored roughly 7000 LSD trips as part of his research in Czechoslovakia and the United States - and have found it a valuable tool for self-realization and individuation, with stages in the psychedelic experience closely paralleling the unfolding of Campbell's "monomyth" – far from bypassing new levels of consciousness, Grof and Campbell found this process unfolds in exquisite detail.
The fact that sales of
The Hero with a Thousand Faces increased tenfold during the sixties - due to its value as a map to the psychedelic experience - suggests a surprising number
were exploring myth, ritual, and transcendence through psychedelics.
“Mysteries Sacred & Profane” only scratches the surface – but the article does touch on several examples demonstrating the role sacred plants have played, and continue to play, in creating and fostering ritual and spiritual traditions – and the existence of fifty million “cultural creatives” where only a handful could be so described before the turbulent sixties suggests this is more the norm than the exception – maybe, for most who follow that path, it
is the case …
Evinnra asks:
What's wrong with tapping into this source with experiencing a 'magical' theatre performance, or good old fashioned romp in the haystack (pardon my profanity here!!!) or full hearted involvement in ritual within one's own spiritual traditions?
Good question – but who is suggesting there is anything wrong with those activities you mention? Indeed, what
is wrong “with experiencing a magical theater performance, a good old fashioned romp in the hay, participation in a ritual within one’s own spiritual tradition” -
or participation in a deliberately and consciously chosen ritual from another tradition, or a ritual involving sacred plants?
I value all paths, but not all paths are mine to follow. I don’t experience the transcendent listening to a Sabbath sermon, or eating communion mass – but I do when I meditate, or work with dreams, or eat LSD or mushrooms, work with the Tarot or I Ching, or dance and whirl for hours at a drum circle. The paths that take me there may not be appropriate for you, and vice versa.
Campbell too valued all paths – but he only followed those that worked for him. He did not try psychedelics, but then neither did he meditate – not because these are “wrong,” but because he had found a path that worked for him. Few however are able to follow the intellectual path –
rajah yoga – with the commitment, rigor, and open-mindedness needed to arrive at the same realizations; nevertheless, Campbell does not discount other paths. All paths are equal, with certain paths more appropriate for some individuals than for others.
Evinnra asks:
There are many ways to achieve connection with the source, do we need more alien chemicals disturbing our 'temples' in order to get there?
This question presupposes the superiority of one path over another. Why not ask, if there are so many ways to “get there,” do we really need to disturb our physical temples by depriving ourselves of sustenance for extended periods (fasting), or through physical discomfort (physical ordeals associated with vision quests), or twisting our bodies into unnatural contorted shapes (yoga), or kneeling on hard floors for extended periods in prayer, or staring at a fixed point while sitting in an unnatural position for hours on end in meditation?
Very few are born full blown Buddhas from their mama’s belly – even the Dalai Lama wet his diaper and cried like a baby when he was a baby. Some sort of initiation, some sort of vision quest - a discipline, a practice, a tradition – some sort of hero’s journey, if you will, is required. Initiation involves a very disquieting, disconcerting, and generally agonizing ordeal – an experience of Death, followed by the liberation of Rebirth. We can always phrase it in negative terms and never attempt the journey – but those who never do, those who never eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of Good and Evil and get kicked out of paradise, those who never take any risk, will never find the Grail.
“Alien chemicals”
does sound threatening and unmythical – but that characterization ignores the fact that sacred plants are the most ancient and universal path to the transcendent we know. They
are our own spiritual tradition – embedded in the spiritual tradition of all humanity. Why declare them off limits?
Mushrooms and peyote and ayahuasca and ergot and datura and belladonna and such are not “alien chemicals” – they are Nature – the expression of vegetable consciousness, if you will. Of course plant consciousness has fallen out of favor as we have divorced ourselves from Nature – the more removed we are from Nature, and the more removed God is from Nature in the Judeo-Christian tradition, the more we need access to Nature wisdom in our lives – and, in my experience and that of others, these plants open that channel more effectively than any other means into that realm.
(Just on a practical level, hundreds of thousands are alive today and millions enjoy a higher quality of life because a white American scientist tripped on ayahuasca with natives in the Amazon jungles in the mid-twentieth century, in the process “discovering” hundreds of life-saving medicines used in the pharmaceutical industry today – and anthropologist Jeremy Narby has documented similar instances from ayahuasca sessions.)
Clemsy writes:
I would simply add, and I would love for Bodhi to jump in here, that psychoactive substances could be of value in, as I said above, 'cracking the egg'... opening up a perspective on reality that may otherwise remain closed.
It would not be an end, but, for some, a means.
It can do more than crack open the door …
The work of so many scientists researching this subject, the personal experiences of others, and in particular the work of Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell reflect observations and insights gleaned from my own personal experience. All I can do is speak from that experience, and put it out there. If it strikes a chord, wonderful – and if it doesn’t, that’s cool too …
Do we need psychedelics?
I can’t speak for everyone, but I know that for me, the experience meant the difference between life and death.
Fascinating, the role LSD has played in raising consciousness. I was a straight-laced, anal-retentive, Aristotelian "A is not not-A" objectivist type before ever I first put a Grateful Dead bootleg on the reel-to-reel and popped a purple microdot in my mouth
and then the paradigm shifted
and the whole universe opened up to a realm mystic and transcendent.
This prompted an exploration of shamanic visions - a quest lasting years that included sampling a wide range of sacred substances in ritual settings, from magic mushrooms (psilocybin, amanitas muscaria), mescaline, datura, DMT, morning glory seeds, and a variety of other entheogens, natural and distilled. I learned the most from mushrooms, LSD, and DMT, ingesting shrooms dozens of times, eating acid roughly 200 times (yes, I kept records – hard getting past that anal-retentive tendency), DMT but once.
Of course, we know so much more about psychedelics today than we did in the sixties (thank goddess! ... so many silly rumors - like the front page report about six students staring at the sun on LSD until they went blind that an official admitted making up days later – we all remember the urban legend, but how many remember reading the retraction, which for some reason didn't get the same coverage…?).
From the wild assertions the establishment (there's a word that brings back memories) published in the sixties, it would be safe to assume that my mind turned to mush long ago (that does seem to be the dynamic in play, but i chalk it up to natural processes...).
Though Joseph Campbell never indulged, through his studies he realized that entheogens access first the personal unconscious, and then reach into the collective unconscious of the psyche (a gross oversimplification), much the same as myth and dream
and, indeed, in my experience the dream state and the psychedelic state are of the same order. I've recorded thousands of dreams, and hundreds of psychedelic experiences - and, in fact, I believe it is the practice of recalling and re-membering my dreams that provided
the tools needed to recall and process details of the acid trance. Those who only rarely have taken psychedelics find they are a lot like dream - one remembers the experience as exquisite and incredible, but only a handful of images stand out once the eight to twelve hour trip ends, and the rest is dim and vague as dream the morning after - but over time I found I was able to bring more and more back across the threshold into conscious awareness.
The general pattern noted among users of psychedelics is that there is an intense period of heavy use - maybe a few weeks, or months, a year or two - or, in my case, a decade, though that's rare - and then use peters off. Alan Watts, another Campbell friend and colleague, when asked about LSD acknowledged its value, but pointed out he rarely took it anymore, for "once the call goes through, you hang up the phone." True enough, I rarely indulge, taking mushrooms in a ritual outdoors setting at most once every year or two year, if that.
However, acid, mushrooms, and other entheogens propelled me into a realm of myth and magick - and most of the years since that period have been spent processing those images, those visions, and connecting them to "real" life – i.e., waking consciousness. The images I encountered on my vision quests corresponded to the imagery revealed through Joseph Campbell’s work, and triggered a lifelong fascination with myth. The world hasn’t looked the same since
...but that's certainly not a bad place to begin. Though by no means the majority, I imagine more than a few people here began their journey with a jump start from a teacher plant...
… And then, on the most personal level, LSD literally saved my life.
It’s a story told in great detail elsewhere in the archives (in the “Trickster Redux” thread, the May 14, 2005 entry, at
http://www.jcf.org/new/forum/viewtopic. ... 3&forum=28 )
– but the thumbnail version is that I was given a few days to two weeks to live without radiation or surgery. I opted for neither, but decided instead to get in touch with the realization that I was going to die, so holed up in a Best Western for three days and ate 100 doses of LSD all at once – enough to turn on almost 200 people for eight to twelve hours …
I tripped for three days.
Though physical healing was not my conscious intent, spiritual wholeness was – and the power of the resulting spiritual and mystical realizations changed my life completely.
It took a few weeks before I realized all symptoms had cleared up and simply disappeared
and everything I am today
every intuition and understanding I have
every word I write
flows from that moment – that instant when I surrendered to the inevitable, and partook of a psychedelic communion ...
(folks often ask how long that experience lasted ... hmm ... eat enough LSD to turn roughly 200 people on for eight hours each – not sure I ever really came down from that one...).
I can't speak for anyone else's experience - but I do know that I'm alive, when I should be dead. I just can't get around that fact.
That’s the story I’ve lived – can’t do anything to change it now. I remain in awe of the experience and its lasting influence in my life. Everything changed for the better from that moment on – what had been the paralysis of existential despair evaporated and life now had purpose and momentum. The longer version places this very personal experience in a mythic context … but though the circumstances are individual and specific, my experience is far from unique.
Will entheogens have a place in any emergent mythology? They will be present, perhaps floating about the periphery, exerting indirect pressure on the shape of the myth to come
… but they prove central to my personal myth, and that works for me.
what a long strange trip it’s been ...
bodhibliss
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