ShadowBoom: Firstly, let me apologize for the “giggly fun time with friends” comment. It was provocative and counterproductive to this exchange. Please realize it was not directed specifically at you, though it most certainly reads that way in retrospect. I’m a hotheaded guy and I type/post sometimes too quickly. Again, for any personal slight, my apologies. Such was not my intent.
I can totally understand what your saying, and that further backs up my belief that psychoactives are definetly not for everyone.
BINGO, MY BROTHER!
Well, to some extent. Buckaroo must always qualify…he does so love to hear himself type. Rant begins here…
I think that given good conditions, trusted friends and carefully dosed compounds of known quality, just about anybody can have a damned fine time, and/or learn a lot about themselves, with psychedelics.
I do NOT think that everyone is suited to delving deeply into their own concepts and perceptions of reality, however. Such questions (and, more specifically, the quest for answers that certain questions inevitably breed) just are not suited for most people.
Some would like to blame this on the government, or the TV, or religion, or the WHATEVER of our culture. I think that’s wrong, though. I think it’s total bullshit. The nature of most monkeys is not to seek a personal understanding of the infinite. We just don’t seem to be wired that way. At least not en masse.
There have been hundreds of organized societies on this planet before ours. Many of them left pretty detailed archeological documentation about the composition of their people. A number of the big ones left friggin’ censuses. There have always, always, ALWAYS been very few seekers. The “straights” have always outnumbered the shaman. Usually, they have vastly outnumbered them.
The shaman have always been outcasts, to one extent or another. Sometimes revered, sometimes reviled…but always separate, by action, ideas and appearance, from the “norm.”
In most aboriginal and native cultures, the shaman will wear very different clothing, sometimes makeup…they live separately…practice rituals perceived as arcane, sometimes illegal/immoral…they are simply and demonstrably different from the societal whole. They always have been and always will be oddballs that run counter to their culture.
The “counter culture” is far older than the hippies. Far older than the beats. Far older than the renaissance artisans or the first followers of Buddah. Older than dirt, you might say.
The counter culture, IMHO, stared with the first monkey that dipped its hand in the blood of its kill and represented a silhouette of that kill on a cave wall, shocking its compatriots and kin with a “new” act. It started with that first individual who differentiated itself through nothing more than doing (and, later, enjoying doing well) something outside the “normal” experience of its peers.
It, the counter culture, then grew up around that “freak.” It was composed, initially, of those monkeys that looked up from their meal and saw something interesting in those blood streaks on the wall. Something that appealed to them, though they had no clue why. Something different that a few of them wanted to experience for themselves.
It wasn’t long after that first silhouette appeared on the cave’s wall that another monkey copied the technique and drew something different. It wasn't long after those first few accidental trips that most of the monkeys quit eating mushrooms...and a couple started seeking them out.
There has always been, and will always be, a subset of society that follows, supports, respects and seeks to be like the artist, the musician, the shaman, the mystic. They are so intrigued by the vision of the “oddball” that they seek to experience it for themselves.
But this is like trying to share an epiphany. Conception of the infinite is, by its very nature, an utterly personal experience. As are each of us different beings, our experiences and perceptions and understanding are different. We are like the three blind men describing an elephant. We describe the same greater whole, but each of us experiences it in a vastly different way.
Truth is universal, but it is also utterly different for each of us. This is, to me, part of the amazingly interesting nature of existence, here within time. This is what makes me understand why the Buddha is always represented with that same sly grin that the Dali Lama always seems to wear. That same sly grin that makes the Mona Lisa so damned beautiful.
All of us are God. Each just a tiny fragment, yet also a perfect representation of the whole. We aren’t the trinity. We are the infinity.
Psychedelics can put us in *close* touch with an awareness of that utter and perfect connection with the infinite. I think this is part of the damned near universal appeal of psychedelics to the counter culture. I think this is also a big part of why most folks shouldn’t dabble in large doses of psychedelics.
The thing is, though, religion can put you in touch with that same awareness. More than one of us has found infinity in the rituals of the Catholic Church. Some have found it in mathematics. Or poetry. Or music. Or a solid day of physical labor.
Or a walk in the woods with a loved one on a beautiful spring morning.
Some have no interest in finding it, and that’s cool too, because that’s a big part of it. The counter culture wouldn’t be counter if it followed the mainstream. Too many people trouncing through the woods on that beautiful spring morning would fuck it all up. Besides, somebody needs to be working at the Waffle House. A long springtime walk in the woods can breed a healthy appetite and I hate cooking.
Psychedelics, and drugs in general, can be a shortcut to Heaven or Hell. No strong adulterant is for everyone, except maybe oxygen and love. And Prozac, of course. I like my Eli Lilly shares to stay profitable.
Psychedelics can be a route to everything…or nothing…or both…a shortcut to grasping the paradox of duality.
I know that grasping that paradox is what I have sought after many, many years of “giggly fun times with friends.” I was only looking for giggles, or just a smokin’ good buzz, for a damned LONG time. I’m looking for a little bit more, now. A lot more, actually.
But in a totally cool way, “seeking God” with big doses makes laughing my ass off at Carlos Mencia with couple of good friends on small doses ever so much sweeter. Hell, it makes every aspect of life sweeter to realize just how much more there is than what my little eyes can see and my little monkey brain can glimpse (even on it’s very best day).
It makes me feel glad to be and I dig the fuck out of that.
There is great value in “giggly fun times with friends.” There is great value in “confronting horrific personal demons.” There is great value in just looking around and realizing just how fucking sweet it is just to draw one breath…and then another.
There are many different drugs, from MJ to A. muscaria to DMT, that have helped me bring that realization to a semi conscious reality and I dearly love them all for it. And, of course, I do love that most kick ass architect who designed my nervous system and then peppered my environment with so many things to alter it.
You know the architect. Some call him God. Some call him Allah. Some call him money. I call him You. And Me. And, of course, this sweet bong I’m about to hit…
From a Grateful Dead show on the panhandle to a Ronald Reagan speech at a Republican convention…man, it’s just a damned cool assed thing, this funky time trip through “reality.” So many amazing moments, so much amazing diversity…and each of them so intimately connected to each other…to me…to you…to some guy named Bob in San Francisco…to some fossilized microbe on Pluto.
Personally, I’m mostly looking to float through the time stream, trying to figure out how to exercise the free will that will bring about my inevitable destiny. To grasp it all with the clear eye of a child and just laugh my ass off until I cry. And to trip BALLS every so often and forget it all only to sink back in and learn it yet again. Good stuff, this life. It’s why I keep coming back…
“I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it’s both. Maybe both is happening at the same time.”
By the way, this is the kind of psychotic shit you’ll end up going over and over and over again in your head if you fuck around seriously with psychedelics. Nature of the beast, as it were. Much more echoey, harsh and noxious things will end up in your head if you fuck seriously with the “darker” psychedelics (A. muscaria, in large doses, is one of those darker things).
This is why psychedelics aren’t for everyone. This is why some people freak flat the fuck out. This is one of the reasons why I do so dearly love them. I’m a *HUGE* fan of madness and chaos. And, of course, giggly fun times with friends!!!
“I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence or insanity to anyone, but they’ve always worked for me.”
-Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
Thanks very much for kicking me off on this twisted tangent, ShadowBoom. I started this pissed at yet another mischaracterization of my friend Ami and am now just grinnin’ my ass off and pinwheeling madly inside my head.
Time for a bong rip, brother. Take care of yourself.