Last night after watching the classic 1988 Japanese anime “Akira”, having been inspired by the strange synchronicity of the film (sort-of, potentially) predicting the cancellation of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics, I decided to smoke a little DMT. The film bears a lot of fascinating symbolism, including the obvious messianic allusion of Akira as a kind of futuristic second-coming of Christ. Akira's identity remains something of a mystery until the end of the film, when it is revealed that small parts of his nervous system have been cryogenically preserved in cylindrical glass vessels, in the hopes that perhaps one day the technological means required to resurrect him may one day be discovered. The film reaches its climax when Tetsuo, the naive unfortunate antichrist figure who unwittingly reigns destruction upon a decaying Neo-Tokyo, accidentally destroys the vessels containing Akira's various body parts. A brilliant neutralizing force of light emanates from the bottles and destroys Tetsuo, ending his devastating rampage almost instantaneously.
So, the film inspired me to load up my pipe and have a little bedtime foray into the depths and heights. During the previous few days I had felt a bit of fear, loneliness, and a nagging sense that I am somehow not capable of receiving love from women. Over the past couple of years I've had a few very disappointing relationships, resulting in the feeling that I'm not worthy of love, despite that I work hard to be very open and give love and support to others as much as I can. I suppose I could be paying a karmic toll for having failed to meet the needs of my previous partners; thus perhaps I have no choice but to suck it up, but it's disheartening nonetheless.
As I blew the vapor from my lungs, lay back in bed and closed my eyes, I was met with the familiar chill that grabs one by the spine and sends radiating tingles to all extremities. I breathed deeply, let my body go limp and allowed the living substance to course freely through my veins. I felt my anxiety well up, like the feeling of watching a plugged toilet threatening to crest the brim of the bowl. Thankfully I've learned to wield a psychological plunger with relative ease, so I forced my lungs to let out a deep sigh, opening completely the membrane of my ego to allow the soothing clear water of the soul to flush out all the filth and fear.
In a matter of moments an eerily nostalgic white light descended from the secret upper room of my head, and I found myself swiftly but gently escorted into that all-too-familiar world that is so quickly forgotten in the expanses of time between visits. During these moments it seems quite obvious to me that this is the realm of pre-birth, and perhaps the realm of death also. It's also the place I visited when I suffered a severe concussion at age 12, and subsequently later revisited and healed with the help of mushrooms.
For me at least, in this place there always emerges what feels like an “Other”, a divine presence that could crush even the most stubborn atheist's convictions. I became very jaded by my own protestant Christian upbringing, and spent many years in vehement denial of the existence of any such thing resembling the God of Christianity, simply because I had been so negatively conditioned to resist such a disagreeable authoritarian entity. The presence I felt at this moment however, was of a very different sort than the one I had rejected in my youth, because it was simply the reacknowledgment of (or reacquaintance with) the living presence I typically call my self, but whose divine nature I periodically forget.
This perceived “Other” has been called by many names, in many times and in many cultures. I'm comfortable referring to it as the soul, the unconscious, even God or the Holy Spirit, simply because I recognize that all of these terms merely attempt to refer to the various unconscious aspects of ourselves which have fallen almost completely into obscurity. It seems that what takes place in this realm is a manifestation of the body, which is always there working hard to keep us alive. We take it for granted and assume to be identical with it, despite that we are unaware of almost all of its processes, and essential influences emanating from beyond the sensory domain. During normal consciousness we simply tune out all complexity and identify with this diminished state. If we never experienced anything beyond this state we could only assume it to be absolute. However, the moment the identifying function of the ego is diminished, the autonomy of the living conscious body is revealed, and it can even begin to speak to us in plain english. This is actually happening all the time; we merely misattribute our inner (and outer) voice as being entirely of our own volition, when in reality it is the culmination and expression of infinitely complex intersecting chain-reactions originating from the depths of our being.
On this occasion, all that the voice said to me was this, clearly and concisely:
“My love is completely free. I give it away to whomever I choose. You don't have to work for it, you are not indebted to me for it, and you don't have to feel guilty for receiving it. All that is required is that you accept it, and enjoy it.”
Needless to say, it was a pretty good feeling. All the fear and melancholy in my heart was instantaneously vaporized. I was left with a clear sense that I'm simply trying too hard to be what I already am. There's absolutely no need to continue sticking my neck out for people who are unwilling to reciprocate my love, and no need to blame myself for others' shortcomings and selfishness. Of course it’s important to provide love and care for those who need it, but there’s no sense in wasting valuable time and energy waiting for people to change if they aren’t ready to put in the effort.
That's all folks, just thought I'd share that write-up in case it might resonate with anyone. I’ll mention that I don’t necessarily take these messages as absolute truth. What I experienced here was definitely a rather nurturing maternal vibe, which is actually a pretty uncommon thing for me to feel. I tend to be very hard on myself to the point of being needlessly masochistic, so letting a little bit of softness and mercy in to balance things out is good (though I’m also wary of leaning too far in either direction, lest one fall off one’s bicycle). Thanks for reading, if you did! Much love ❤️
Edited by DonShadow, 08 April 2020 - 02:25 AM.