Altered State

by Bill Tavis at http://billtavis.tumblr.com/

ALTERED STATE

When it first comes on
It feels odd 
To experience universe
From just one point of view
To navigate spacetime
In just one mind and body.

When it first comes on
It seems odd
To make one place in cosmos special
To feel one moment -- now -- is real.

When it first comes on
It seems strong
To be kicked out of eternity into time
To feel suddenly ignorant and helpless
To be gripped by strange laws
Not of my own making.

When it first comes on
It feels wrong
Not to be connected to All of You
Not to experience the ever-present
Schoolyard playfulness of sentient pals.

When it first comes on
It feels long
More then twenty thousand nights
I've switched off self and still come back.
Did I fail to read the warning on the box top?
Is this the fabled Nightmare Trip
That never ends?

When the Impossible Happens

August O'Connor encountering a Groffian impossibility

How would history have changed had Sigmund Freud's favorite drug been LSD instead of cocaine?

Using lysergic acid instead of analysis to access the unconscious mind, Freud's career might have resembled Stan Grof's as recounted in When the Impossible Happens. Freud might have escaped his dreary office in Vienna, lived 14 years at Esalen Institute, taken peyote with Indians in Kansas, MDA in Palenque and ketamine in Machu Picchu, guided hundreds of patients thru the tangled jungles of their own personalities using LSD sessions, Holotropic breath work and other radical mind-opening techniques. Like Freud, Grof brings a sophisticated European mind set to bear to evaluate a lifetime of extraordinary experiences. Unlike Tim Leary and Terence McKenna, who were of Irish blood, Stanislav Grof was born in Czechoslovakia and possesses a "Slavic soul" which binds him solidly to the soil even as his yearnings for the infinite bring him face to face with experiences that would shake the sanity of many less solidly grounded men.

I'm sure that if Stan were to encounter Satan (which he does in one of the episodes in this book) he would do so calmly, all senses alert, pushing his fear into the background while striving rationally to assess the true dimensions of the experience. Stan is a compassionate scientist and brave explorer of the heights and depths of human consciousness. Of all of his many books, When the Impossible Happens is the most biographical and offers personal stories of the most astonishing high points of his long career as an passionate courtier of non-ordinary realities.

His book consists of more than 60 short episodes, from Stan Grof's first LSD experience as a fledgling doctor in Prague, to his years with his wife Christina as scholar-in-residence at Esalen, to psychic adventures in Iceland, Brazil, Mexico and Australia. This is a book of experiences not theory. And, as the title suggests, many of his experiences would be considered "impossible" according to our present model of the human mind which holds that consciousness is solely the product of some (as yet unknown) process in the brain--a position called "reductive materialism" by its supporters and "promissory materialism" by its critics. Just as the goal of modern physics is to explain not only the ordinary world but every sort of outlandish physical phenomena made accessible by Hubbles, LHCs and even newer probes on the horizon, so any serious psychologist (mind scientist) should welcome this account of dozens of exotic psychological "quarks" and "gluons" observed during a lifetime of exploring the extreme edges of human experience.

Stan is an splendid story teller and one finds oneself experiencing the emotions that he must have felt as the events were actually happening. I was pleased to discover his account of an extraordinary adventure in which I played a small role--Stan's marriage to Joan Halifax which took place in a volcanic caldera in Iceland, in a Viking wedding ritual designed by Icelandic mythologist Einar Pallson and Joseph Campbell, who gave away the bride. My wife Betsy and I brought the traditional child to the wedding--our son, Khola, who had just celebrated his second birthday a day before with the children of the kitchen staff. We wedding guests arranged ourselves in a ring around the edge of the caldera and after the ceremony, Stan and Joan went around the circle to be congratulated. At the moment when Betsy, Khola and I embraced them, the midnight sun which had temporary dipped below the horizon, suddenly rose and flooded the five of us with its brilliant light.

I know Stan slightly but over the years our paths have crossed several times since that first meeting in Iceland. As a fellow Slav and a member of his wedding I feel a personal bond. I admire him as an expecially bold scientist and always feel a bit high when coming into his presence.

Nick's not the only one who admires Stan Grof. In 2007, Vlaclav Havel, the president of Czechoslovakia, presented the VISION 97 award to Stan for his pioneering research into non-ordinary states of consciousness.

When the Impossible Happens is one of the best tour guides I can recommend into the details of some of those non-ordinary states.

Next month Dr. Stanislav Grof will experience his eightieth trip around the Sun.

Happy Birthday, Stan!

Stan Grof at Esalen SuperSymposium IV

Stoned in Dam Town

Statue on bridge crossing Singel Canal

In December of 1999, I was invited to attend the 50th birthday of Luc Sala, Dutch businessman, publisher, TV producer and seeker after the mysteries. See here. I was housed in the tower room of Luc's TV studio, bookstore and mystery salon.

From my tower window I could look across the Singel Canal to the floating flower markets on the other side and just catch sight of a colorful storefront announcing "Magic Mushrooms". On the afternoon of Luc's party I decided to check out one of Amsterdam's most innovative policies--allowing the open sale (and taxation) of psychedelic mushrooms in selected shops. I descended from my tower, crossed the Heiligeweg (Holy Way) bridge and entered the store. There were no mushrooms in sight--only colorful posters for rock concerts at the "Melkweg" (Milky Way) and other Amsterdam music venues. On the counter were a variety of smoking accessories and behind the counter were a young Dutch couple in their 20s.

"Do you sell mushrooms here?" I asked. "Certainly," they replied and handed me a menu which described the varieties which they had on hand. While I read over the menu, they explained that, due to a recent change in the law, only live mushrooms were allowed to be sold. They seemed to be content with the way such decisions were made in the city council, aiming for harm reduction rather than blanket prohibition of all drugs. If the evidence showed that Amsterdamers could safely use some drugs but not others, the laws were crafted accordingly. Lately Amsterdam's famous decades-long experiment in tolerance for "soft drugs" seems to be losing momentum. In 2007, mushrooms (which the natives call "paddos") were made illegal; and the city is moving to reduce the number of "coffee houses" where cannabis products can be purchased and consumed.

I could not resist the name "Philosopher's Stones". "What do these look like?" I asked. The girl reached under the counter and pulled out a small white cardboard box that looked exactly like a container for a prom corsage complete with transparent cellophane top. Thru the top I could see what looked like small round pieces of gravel scattered over a culture base. They looked more like lightly peppered truffles than mushrooms. And indeed, the philosopher's stone is classified as a psychedelic truffle not a mushroom. "How much of this is a good dose?" I asked. "The whole box," they replied.

Back in my tower, I separated the tiny truffle globes from the soil and put them all together in a saucer. There didn't seem to be a lot of mushroom there after all the dirt was cleaned off. I slowly ingested them, washing the pieces down with water. Not a bad taste--would go good in a salad.

Almost immediately I could feel the effects. It was growing dark and my plan was to follow the Singel Canal back and forth so I would not get lost. And to witness the sights of the "Venice of the North" on shrooms.

I decided to exit thru Luc's bookstore but there was some sort of ruckus going on. The two women who worked there were having trouble getting an Arab to leave so they could close up shop. No common language. I went up to him waving my hands and urged him towards the door. He did not act aggressively, merely confused. Perhaps he was on mushrooms too and had been attracted by the cute girls and the flashing gadgets in Luc's shop. I steered him out the door and into the entrance of a large covered mall. Then I re-entered the bookstore, took the elevator down to ground level and began my night tour of the Singel Canal. I moved along the bank occasionally crossing a bridge to the other side. There were lights everywhere--on the streets, in the houses, and in boats docked or moving along the canal. A light rain was falling which made everything sparkle. I felt like I was walking inside some big bright Dutch landscape painting. I practiced catching the eyes of people in the street and wondered what kinds of energy are transmitted by the human gaze.

The overall impression was one of IMMENSE BEAUTY. A beauty that is here all the time and cries out wordlessly for appreciation. I was reminded of the Muslim verse: "I was a Hidden Treasure and desired to be known."

I was completely wallowing in the Beauty Way when I turned onto a bridge and ran into a larger than life bronze statue of Albert Einstein Being Shot From a Cannon. Or perhaps, as he was glistening with rain, it was Einstein Being Born into the World, coated with amnionic fluid. What was going on? I could not find a category in which to place this particular vision. The caption on the marble cube from which "Einstein" was emerging was not much help. It read simply "Multatuli". I pulled a notebook out of my pocket and carefully copied down this cryptic caption. I would save this mystery for another day.

Just as I was about to turn around and retrace my steps a young woman on a bike slipped on the wet tram rails and fell down on the street directly in front of me. I helped her up, asked if she was all right. "I'm fine," she said and pedaled off into the night. Lovely young Dutch girl on a bicycle, I still remember you, your natural beauty magnified by the magic of the philosopher's stones.

I retraced my path back along the Singel Canal--missed the Einstein Explosion this time by crossing some different bridges. When I finally reached the Myster Tower, the guests were beginning to arrive for Luc's birthday. Luc celebrating with his friends--another brand of beauty to be witnessed thru the appreciative lenses of the philosopher's stones.

Two Drug Miracles

Reb Yeshua of Nazareth:
Miracle worker, purported Messiah

And on the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee; and the mother of Jesus was there. And both Jesus (Reb Yeshua) was invited, and his disciples, to the wedding. And the wine having run short, the mother of Jesus said unto him: "Son, they have no wine." Jesus said unto her: "What wouldst thou have me do, woman? Mine hour is not yet come."

His mother said to the servants: "Whatsoever he tells you, do it." And there were set out six waterpots of stone, after the Jewish manner of purification, containing two or three firkins apiece. Jesus said unto them: "Fill the waterpots with water." And they filled them to the brim. Then he said to them: "Draw out now and take to the chief steward of the feast." And they did so. When the chief steward had tasted the water that was made wine, and knew not whence it came (but the servants who drew the water knew) he called the bridegroom and praised him saying: "Every man at the beginning sets forth his good wine and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse, but thou hast kept the good wine until now."

As Jesus was preparing to rejoin his disciples, he saw the steward again conversing anxiously with his mother. As she approached him, he said unto her: "What is it now, woman?" And she whispered unto him so that no other could hear: "Son, they have run out of hashish."

So Jesus again called the servants and caused them to gather dung into baskets from beneath the camels of the guests. He told them to bear these baskets of dung which held 2 or 3 firkins each unto the chief steward of the feast. When he had inhaled just one measure of the hashish which had been dung, the steward exclaimed: "This is truly fine shit, Son of Man, such as the Lebanese merchants keep for themselves, or sell to kings." And Jesus said unto the chief steward: "Friend, when thou gettest high, thou shouldst use none but the finest, for thy mind is a terrible thing to waste."

The Empire vs Amanita

Image from J Orlin Grabbe site

Gist of the Sixties

Reality fans, here is an brief essay by John Perry Barlow that expresses the gist of the 60s better than anything I could ever hope to write:

LSD is a drug that produces fear in people who don’t take it. --Timothy Leary

It’s now almost half a century since that day in September 1961 when a mysterious fellow named Michael Hollingshead made an appointment to meet Professor Timothy Leary over lunch at the Harvard Faculty Club. When they met in the foyer, Hollingshead was carrying with him a quart jar of sugar paste into which he had infused a gram of Sandoz LSD. He had smeared this goo all over his own increasingly abstract consciousness and it still contained, by his own reckoning, 4,975 strong (200 mcg) doses of LSD. The mouth of that jar became perhaps the most significant of the fumaroles from which the ‘60s blew forth.

Much much more at Reality Sandwich.

Advice from the Head Prankster

In the middle '60s my social circle happened to intersect that of Ken Kesey, best-selling author, leader of the Merry Pranksters, Commodore of "Furthur", the Psychedelic Bus, and instigator of the infamous "Can You Pass the Acid Test?" experiments in psychedelic sociology. Kesey had been introduced to the effects of LSD by Dr Leo Hollister at the VA Hospital in Palo Alto, getting dosed in the same building where poet Allen Ginsberg and physicist Heinz Pagels were similarly initiated into the psychedelic mysteries. Tom Wolfe has documented some of Kesey's pranks in The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, one of the most informative books to come out of that decidedly experiential and anti-literary era. Another little appreciated literary record of those tumultuous times was Gypsy Joker biker William J Craddock's Be Not Content which chronicles Craddock's mind-altered adventures in the precincts of San Jose, Boulder Creek and Big Sur. And who can forget the heart-warming tale of how spooks in the CIA, secretly testing biochemical Weapons of Mental Domination on our own people, inadvertently triggered the massive, colorful and wildly out-of-control Haight-Ashbury Effect?

During the Summer of Love Era, I lived in Los Trancos Woods, a rural outpost of Portola Valley, while Ken Kesey was holding court in nearby La Honda. We first met at a party in Palo Alto hosted by lovely Shirley Burlingame. Gathered in Shirley's living room, under the seductive spell of the usual intoxicants, drawn into a hushed, dark, candle-lit circle with other Seekers of Deep Reality, the Head Prankster Himself gifted me with the best piece of advice I've ever gotten from mortal man or woman.

"Shut up, Nick," Ken Kesey said. "Shut up and listen."

Psychedelic Sexual Etiquette

photo by Reno DeCaro

Dear Abbie--
I am a male human being on Earth plane 7. My partner wants to be treated like a goddess. But so do all the others. Is there one goddess or many? And how can I honor them all?
--Overwhelmed in Pasadena

Dear Overwhelmed--
The answer to the goddess/god dilemma faced by you and so many others confined to the Earth planes is contained in two psychedelic visions. Since along with these privileged experiences comes the conviction that you have been opened to a Deep Secret, to an Undeniable Truth of Nature, you understand that it would be spiritual hazardous not to base your post-vision life on these two psychedelic insights if at all possible.

Vision #1: Perception of the All-in-One. Behind the everyday veil of illusion you realize that your partner is Woman in all Her Guises: goddess, queen, perfect lover, sister, mother, childhood companion, lewd temptress too, man-eater, whore, black witch, angry Kali: devourer of worlds. Only the persuasive simplicity of the habitual illusion blinds you to the fact that She in all Her moods and costumes continually plays for your sake at the game of embodiment. In your relationship you both take turns imitating for each other all the male and female roles that crowd your imagination--images out of dreams, movies, childhood fairy tales--hiding (and seeking) behind the familiar masks that pulled you together when you met. The image of All-in-One supports the notion of deep spiritual monogamy: there is truly only one God/Goddess and He/She is now, was, and ever will be at your side. In the words of the immortal Fats Waller: "If that isn't love, it'll have to do, until the real thing comes along..."

Vision #2: Perception of the One-in-All. Beneath the shimmering surface of things, you suddenly realize that everything is alive, divine, and profoundly sexual. Every man and woman you meet yearns to be your lover. In his marvelous Song of Myself, poet Walt Whitman managed to put into words his glimpse of this unitary vision. Every flower, tree, stone, or drop of water is a divine essence that solicits your immediate erotic attention. Whst holds you back from the Universe's invitation to the dance? The image of One-in-All supports the notion of a spiritual promiscuity so shameless that it includes not only every living creature in its gooey embrace but the vegetable and mineral kingdoms as well. Goddess (God) is in everything and Goddess (God) is Love.

Reconciling these two psychedelic insights--each of them true without doubt on the deepest level of existence--is a real problem for finite creatures such as human beings, forgetful of your true natures, deeply taken in by the illusion of separateness. But, keeping both of these images in mind, try to do your very best. Follow your heart and take the consequences.. Goddess (God) bless you.
--Abbie dearest

LSD is the Hubble

Muzuzuzus reports:
(check out his beautiful site)

I was watching a good talk yesterday from one of the videos freely available at Fred Alan Wolf's page.

There was Robert Kuhn as main chair, and Fred Wolf, David Chalmers, couple of materialists, a parapsychologist--the only woman (Marilyn Schlitz of IONS), and they were talking about consciousness.

Yet not once did I hear psychedelics mentioned!!

But I heard lots of "In about 100 years we should really understand consciousness".

Nick responds:

Speaking about consciousness
Without mentioning psychedelics
Is like speaking about astronomy
Without mentioning telescopes.

LSD IS THE HUBBLE
(for Sasha and Ann Shulgin)

LSD is the Hubble.

Psilocybin mushrooms
are the big Earth-based Kecks
that grow on Mauna Kea's slopes.

And humble marijuana/Mary Jane?
She is a million curious amateurs
with home-made telescopes.

Empathogenic MDMA:
heart-wave steerable
radio-frequency array.

Crystal DMT: deep inner Voyager
Proceed with caution
Fasten your seat belt
Learn to speak Martian.

Want to see outside your bubble?
LSD is the Hubble.

Photo: Joy, Illinois 1967
by Philippa Meyering

Letter to Juliano

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

On First Ingesting a New Psychedelic Drug

ON FIRST INGESTING
A NEW PSYCHEDELIC DRUG
(for Ann and Sasha Shulgin)

I'd like the key to the quantum underworld
Like to enter the place where phenomena start
I'd like a white-hot date with the Cosmos
Like to let Miss Universe into my heart.

I'd like to dive right down to the heart of the matter
Where mathematics dissolves into bodily bliss
I'd like a white-hot date with the Cosmos
Like to give Momma Nature an intimate kiss.

I'd like a white-hot date with the Cosmos
Like to reach inside Her Beautiful Dress
I'd like a backstage pass to Gaia's Mysteries
I'd like the Sacred Secret's unlisted address.

To appreciate deliciousness otherwise missed
I'd like to freshly feel, to view and to touch
Opening self wide to Deep Ruthless Reality
I'd like more, more, more but not too much.

(Graphic via Mark Buchanan's Kazoo)

To celebrate the Valentine Zone
coming next week
1. A love poem by Betsy
2. 2000-year-old pickup line by Nick

Manifesting the Mind: The Trailer

A visitor to physicist Niels Bohr's cabin in the woods pointed to a horseshoe mounted above the door. "Surely, Professor Bohr, you do not believe in such superstitious nonsense."

"Certainly not," Bohr replied. "But they say that it works whether you believe in it or not."

Niels Bohr's horseshoe is a lot like quantum mechanics which works like a charm whether physicists really understand it or not (we don't). Niels Bohr's horseshoe is also like a psychedelic drug which can offer an ordinary person a glimpse of Ineffable Reality unmatched by what any religious ceremony can produce. LSD works no matter what you believe. You don't have to fast, meditate for hours, memorize the catechism, read the sacred books or go to church. NO BELIEF IS NECESSARY. As Terence McKenna once put it: "Now even bad people can see God."

Physicists are learning to come to terms with the utter madness of quantum theory and our society has benefitted tremendously from their ingenuity in deciphering what physicist Heinz Pagels called "the Cosmic Code". However our culture has yet to discover how to effectively deal with the plants and molecules that allow "even bad people to see God" in any other way than by fearfully outlawing their use and severely punishing heretics with long prison terms.

Raiding medical marijuana dispensaries and arresting Administers of the Sacrament at Burning Man are really bad ideas--such actions seem more characteristic of an ignorant totalitarian state than a nation that truly cares for its citizens' freedom, well being and sense of adventure.

Many primitive cultures valued psychedelic exploration and created social forms in which the use of psychedelic substances was ritualized and channeled into beneficial directions. If unlettered peoples who live in the jungle can devise ways to safely explore deep inner space for the benefit of their fellows, one can only imagine how a society that invented space travel, quantum mechanics, symphony orchestras and compound interest might benefit if responsible use of these remarkable substances was encouraged rather than banned.

Andrew Rutajit's video "Manifesting the Mind" explores some of the possibilities that the imaginative use of psychedelics might hold for a technologically advanced society. This Youtube clip is a trailer for Rutajit's video which is scheduled for release sometime in February 2009.

Also coming soon: "2000-year-old Pickup Line" 

to be published here on St. Valentine's Day.

Psychedelic Mind Tools Revisited

"The waves of mass psychedelic utopianism have come and gone, but the hippie movement of the late 60s echoes in the rave scene of the 90s. And there's a small but devoted community of scientists, spiritual seekers, artists and grown-up hedonists exploring the value of these drugs.

The "Horizons: Perspectives on Psychedelics" conference. held in New York Sept 19-21, sought to present an older and wiser psychedelic movement. focusing on medicine, art. spirituality and culture. It drew around 300 people, a mix of academic and hippie types, with the white button-down shirts slightly outnumbering the dreadlocks and the NASA T-shirts.

Psychedelics are "the most powerful psychiatric medicine ever devised" said psychotherapist Neal Goldsmith. who curated the speakers. But because the way they work as medicine--when used in the proper setting--is by generating mystical experiences, "science has to expand". Solid research, he added, could change government policy, which classifies psychedelics as dangerous drugs with no accepted medical use."

Read more of Steven Wishnia's report on the Horizons conference at AlterNetLink.

Thanks to Gaby for sending me this article.

Thanks to Ron Cobb for the cartoon.

Meeting Ms Sprinkle

This Sunday some old friends I had met in the Stanford psychology department in the '60s were checking out Asilomar conference center in Pacific Grove in preparation for a conference on "sexual ontogony" to be held May 2009 under the auspices of the Society for the Scientific Study of Sexuality. Before returning to Seattle my friends Rae Larson and Ann Manly planned to stop in Boulder Creek for the afternoon, presumably to visit their old friend Nick. But no, their main purpose was to reconnect with Annie Sprinkle, ex-porn star, sex video producer, now erotic performance artist who has a house in Boulder Creek. "Come with us to Annie's," they pleaded.

Wonderful time. Annie and her partner Beth Stephens, chair of the Art department at UCSD were making plans for a participatory marriage celebration in Croatia, but invited us all to join their preplanning luncheon and gave us a tour of their quaint redwood enclave. In addition to the delicious food and extraordinary company, Annie gifted me with her legendary Amazing World of Orgasm DVD, which surely qualifies as potent ammo for anyone planning to wage serious tantric jihad.

After sharing a meal with this remarkable being, I proceeded to google her and discovered that she is the author of a most informative essay on the relationship between sex and psychedelics, published in the MAPS newsletter. An excerpt from Annie's article:

"When I was fourteen (a full three years before I was to lose my virginity), I had my first psychedelic drug experience. I went to high school in Panama City, Panama in the '60s. My father, and most of my friends' fathers, worked with the American Embassy. We were good responsible teenagers, so on the weekends our parents let us go up the coast to Panama's beautiful tropical beaches and stay overnight in beach huts. Those spectacular beaches became the laboratories for our innocent drug experiments. All kinds of inebriants were available; opium, speed, Panama Red Cannabis, mescaline, cocaine, magic mushrooms, LSD, etc. One evening a friend, also fourteen years old, offered me a hit of blotter acid, to "expand my mind." There were no instructions, no warnings, and no rituals. I tripped my brains out all night long. Totally unprepared for lysergic acid diethylamide, my teenage fears became magnified a thousandfold; the beach crawled with snakes, people morphed into previously unknown life forms, my heart beat out of its chest, my eyes bulged out of my head, I did not surrender, but endured, and could not wait until it was over.

Rough as the night was, the next day I was a wiser person. I had experienced alternate realities, new dimensions, other ways of seeing and feeling. I discovered that life was not necessarily as it appeared. I learned that I had the power to radically change my consciousness, and hence the world around me. This was excellent information to have on my way to becoming an adult--a sexual adult. During subsequent beach weekends I took more LSD trips, usually with a sense of dread and imagined peer pressure, mixed with curiosity."

Read more here. Thank you, Annie Sprinkle, for making this world more sane and delicious.

Psychedelics and Consciousness

A few weeks ago Andrew Rutajit and Jennifer Marie Zeares interviewed me at Bruce Damer's Digibarn in Boulder Creek (see First Exposure) about psychedelics and consciousness--two topics that lie at the very edge of human knowledge and consequently are of great interest to those scientists who are attracted not only to the bright lights of mainstream technology but also to those dark and dangerous places where our ignorance is greatest. This YouTube video is a brief excerpt from a larger work in progress. Enjoy.

"Each moment

 is an unutterably beautiful miracle

 surrounded by thorns."

--Anonymous