HaCKeRz KrOnIcKLeZ 3/HaCKeRz_KrOnIcKLeZ.iso/drugs/tryptamines.and.consciousness

Text File | 1996-05-06 | 39KB | 602 lines

                 Tryptamine Hallucinogens and Consciousness
                             by Terence McKenna

    There is a very circumscribed place in organic nature that has, I
think, important implications for students of human nature. I refer to the
tryptophan-derived hallucinogens dimethyltryptamine (DMT), psilocybin, and
a hybrid drug that is in aboriginal use in the rain forests of South
America, ayahuasca. This latter is a combination of dimethyltryptamine
and a monoamine oxidase inhibitor that is taken orally. It seems
appropriate to talk about these drugs when we discuss the nature of
consciousness; it is also appropriate when we discuss quantum physics.

    It is my interpretation that the major quantum mechanical phenomena
that we all experience, aside from waking consciousness itself, are dreams
and hallucinations. These states, at least in the restricted sense that I
am concerned with, occur when the large amounts of various sorts of
radiation conveyed into the body by the senses are restricted. Then we see
interior images and interior processes that are psychophysical. These
processes definitely arise at the quantum mechanical level. It's been shown
by John Smythies, Alexander Shulgin, and others that there are quantum
mechanical correlates to hallucinogenesis. In other words, if one atom on
the molecular ring of an inactive compound is moved, the compound becomes
highly active. To me this is a perfect proof of the dynamic linkage at the
formative level between quantum mechanically described matter and mind.

    Hallucinatory states can be induced by a variety of hallucinogens and
diassociative anesthetics, and by experiences like fasting and other
ordeals. But what makes the tryptamine family of compounds especially
interesting is the intensity of the hallucinations and the concentration
of activity in the visual cortex. There is an immense vividness to these
interior landscapes, as if information were being presented three-
dimensionally and deployed fourth-dimensionally, coded as light and as
evolving surfaces. When one confronts these dimensions one becomes part of
a dynamic relationship relating to the experience while trying to decode
what it is saying. This phenomenon is not new - people have been talking to
gods and demons for far more of human history than they have not.

    It is only the conceit of the scientific and postindustrial societies
that allows us to even propound some of the questions that we take to be so
important. For instance, the question of contact with extraterrestrials is
a kind of red herring premised upon a number of assumptions that a moment's
reflection will show are completely false. To search expectantly for a
radio signal from an extraterrestrial source is probably as culture bound a
presumption as to search the galaxy for a good Italian restaurant. And yet,
this has been chosen as the avenue by which it is assumed contact is likely
to occur. Meanwhile, there are people all over the world - psychics,
shamans, mystics, schizophrenics - whose heads are filled with information,
but it has been ruled a priori irrelevant, incoherent, or mad. Only that
which is validated through consensus via certain sanctioned
instrumentalities will be accepted as a signal. The problem is that we are
so inundated by these signals - these other dimensions - that there is a
great deal of noise in the circuit.

    It is no great accomplishment to hear a voice in the head. The
accomplishment is to make sure it is telling the truth, because the demons
are of many kinds" :Some are made of ions, some of mind; the ones of
ketamine, you'll find, stutter often and are blind." The reaction to these
voices is not to kneel in genuflection before a god, because then one will
be like Dorothy in her first encounter with Oz. There is no dignity in the
universe unless we meet these things on our feet, and that means having an
I/Thou relationship. One say to the Other: "You say you are omniscient,
omnipresent, or you say you are from Zeta Reticuli. You're long on talk,
but what can you show me?" Magicians, people who invoke these things, have
always understood that one must go into such encounters with one's wits
about oneself.

    What does extraterrestrial communication have to do with this family of
hallucinogenic compounds I wish to discuss? Simply this: that the unique
presentational phenomenology of this family of compunds has been
overlooked. Psilocybin, though rare, is the best known of these neglected
substances. Psilocybin, in the minds of the uninformed public and in the
eyes of the law, is lumped together with LSD and mescaline, when in fact
each of these compounds is a phenomenologically defined universe unto
itself. Psilocybin and DMT invoke the Logos, although DMT is more intense
and more brief in its action. This means that they work directly on the
language centers, so that an important aspect of the experience is the
interior dialogue. As soon as one discovers this about psilocybin and about
tryptamines in general, one must decide whether or not to enter into this
dialogue and to try and make sense of the incoming signal. This is what I
have attempted.

    I call myself an explorer rather than a scientist, because the area
that I'm looking at contains insufficient data to support even the dream of
being a science. We are in a position comparable to that of explorers who
map one river and only indicate other rivers flowing into it; we must leave
many rivers unascended and thus can say nothing about them. This Baconian
collecting of data, with no assumptions about what it might eventually
yield, has pushed me to a number of conclusions that I did not anticipate.
Perhaps through reminiscence I can explain what I mean, for in this case
describing past experiences raises all of the issues.

    I first experimented with DMT in 1965; it was even then a compound
rarely met with. It is surprising how few people are familiar with it, for
we live in a society that is absolutely obsessed with every kind of
sensation imaginable and that adores every therapy, every intoxication,
every sexual configuration, and all forms of media overload. Yet, however
much we may be hedonists or pursuers of the bizarre, we find DMT to be too
much. It is, as they say in Spanish, bastante, it's enough - so much enough
that it's too much. Once smoked, the onset of the experience begins in
about fifteen seconds. One falls immediately into a trance. One's eyes are
closed and one hears a sound like ripping cellophane, like someone
crumpling up plastic film and throwing it away. A friend of mine suggests
this is our radio entelechy ripping out of the organic matrix. An ascending
tone is heard. Also present is the normal hallucinogenic modality, a
shifting geometric surface of migrating and changing colored forms. At the
synaptic site of activity, all available bond sites are being occupied, and
one experiences the mode shift occurring over a period of about thirty
seconds. At that point one arrives in a place that defies description, a
space that has a feeling of being underground, or somehow insulated and
domed. In Finnegans Wake such a place is called the "merry go raum," from
the Germanword raum, for "space." The room is actually going around, and in
that space one feels like a child, though one has come out somewhere in
eternity.

    The experience always reminds me of the twenty-fourth fragment of
Heraclitus: "The Aeon is a child at play with colored balls." One not only
becomes the Aeon at play with colored balls but meets entities as well. In
the book by my brother abd myself, The Invisible Landscape, I describe them
as self-transforming machine elves, for that is how they appear. These
entities are dynamically contorting topological modules that are somehow
distinct from the surrounding background, which is itself undergoing a
continuous transformation. These entities remind me of the scene in the
film version of The Wizard of Oz after the Munchkins come with a death
certificate for the Witch of the East. They all have very squeaky voices
and they sing a little song about being "absolutely and completely dead."
The tryptamine Munchkins come, these hyperdimensional machine-elf entities,
and they bathe one in love. It's not erotic but it is open-hearted. It
certainly feels good. These beings are like fractal reflections of some
previously hidden and suddenly autonomous part of one's own psyche.

    And they are speaking, saying, "Don't be alarmed. Remember, and do what
we are doing." One of the interesting characteristics of DMT is that it
sometimes inspires fear - this marks the experience as existentially
authentic. One of the interesting approaches to evaluating such a compound
is to see how eager people are to do it a second time. A touch of terror
gives the stamp of validity to the experience because it means, "This is
real." We are in the balance. We read the literature, we know the maximum
doses, the LD-50, and so on. But nevertheless, so great is one's faith in
the mind that when one is out in it one comes to feel that the rules of
pharmacology do not really apply and that control of existence on that
plane is really a matter of focus of will and good luck.

    I'm not saying that there's something intrinsically good about terror.
I'm saying that, granted the situation, if one is not terrified then one
must be somewhat out of contact with the full dynamics of what is
happening. To not be terrified means either that one is a fool or that one
has taken a compound that paralyzes the ability to be terrified. I have
nothing against hedonism, and I certainly bring something out of it. But
the experience must move one's heart, and it will not move the heart unless
it deals with the issues of life and death. If it deals with life and death
it will move one to fear, it will move one to tears, it will move one to
laughter. These places are profoundly strange and alien.

    The fractal elves seem to be reassuring, saying, "Don't worry, don't
worry; do this, look at this." Meanwhile, one is completely "over there."
One's ego is intact. One's fear reflexes are intact. One is not "fuzzed
out" at all. Consequently, the natural reaction is amazement; profound
astonishment that persists and persists. One breathes and it persists. The
elves are saying, "Don't get a loop of wonder going that quenches your
ability to understand. Try not to be so amazed. Try to focus and look at
what we're doing." What they're doing is emitting sounds like music, like
language. These sounds pass without any quantized moment of distinction -
as Philo Judaeus said that the Logos would when it became perfect - from
things heard to things beheld. One hears and beholds a language of alien
meaning that is conveying alien information that cannot be Englished.

    Being monkeys, when we encounter a translinguistic object, a kind of
cognitive dissonance is set up in our hindbrain. We try to pour language
over it and it sheds it like water off a duck's back. We try again and
fail again, and this cognitive dissonance, this "wow" or "flutter" that is
building off this object causes wonder, astonishment and awe at the brink
of terror. One must control that. And the way to control it is to do what
the entities are telling ine to do, to do what they are doing.

    I mention these "effects" to invite the attention of experimentalists,
whether they be shaman sor scientists. There is something going on with
these compounds that is not part of the normal presentational spectrum of
hallucinogenic drug experience. When one begins to experiment with one's
voice, unanticipated phenomena become possible. One experiences
glossolalia, although unlike classical glossolalia, which has been studied.
Students of classical glossolalia have measured pools of saliva eighteen
inches across on the floors of South American churches where people have
been kneeling. After classical glossolalia has occurred, the glossolaliasts
often turn to ask the people nearby, "Did I do it? Did I speak in tongues?"
This hallucinogen induced phenomenon isn't like that; it's simply a brain
state that allows the expression of the assembly language that lies behind
language, or a primal language of the sort that Robert Graves discussed in
The White Goddess, or a Kabbalistic language of the sort that is described
in the Zohar, a primal 'ur sprach' that comes out of oneself. One discovers
one can make the extradimensional objects - the feeling-toned, meaning-
toned, three-dimensional rotating complexes of transforming light and
color. To know this is to feel like a child. One is playing with colored
balls; one has become the Aeon.

    This happened to me twenty seconds after I smoked DMT on a particular
day in 1966. I was appalled. Until then I had thought that I had my
ontological categories intact. I had taken LSD before, yet this thing came
upon me like a bolt from the blue. I came down and said (and I said it many
time), "I cannot believe this; this is impossible, this is completely
impossible." There was a declension of gnosis that proved to me in a moment
that right here and now, one quanta away, there is raging a universe of
active intelligence that is transhuman, hyperdimensional, and extremely
alien. I call it the Logos, and I make no judgements about it. I constantly
engage it in dialogue, saying, "Well, what are you? Are you some kind of
diffuse consciousness that is in the ecosystem of the Earth? Are you a god
or an extraterrestrial? Show me what you know."

    The psilocybin mushrooms also convey one into the world of the
tryptamine hypercontinuum. Indeed, psilocybin is a psychoactive tryptamine.
The mushroom is full of answers to the questions raised by its own
presence. The true history of the galaxy over the last four and a half
billion years is trivial to it. One can access images of cosmological
history. Such experiences naturally raise the question of independent
validation - at least for a time this was my question. But as I became more
familiar with the epistemological assumptions of modern science, I slowly
realized that the structure of the Western intellectual enterprise is so
flimsy at the center that apparently no one knows anything with certitude.
It was then that I became less reluctant to talk about these experiences.
They are experiences, and as such they are primary data for being. This
dimension is not remote, and yet it is so unspeakably bizarre that it casts
into doubt all of humanity's historical assumptions.

    The psilocybin mushrooms do the same things that DMT does, although the
experience builds up over an hour and is sustained for a couple of hours.
There is the same confrontation with an alien intelligence and extremely
bizarre translinguistic information complexes. These experiences strongly
suggest that there is some latent ability of the human brain/body that has
yet to be discovered; yet, once discovered, it will be so obvious that it
will fall right into the mainstream of cultural evolution. It seems to me
that either language is the shadow of this ability or that this ability will
be a further extension of language. Perhaps a human language is possible in
which the intent of meaning is actually beheld in three-dimensional space. If
this can happen on DMT, it means it is at least, under some circumstances,
accessible to human beings. Given ten thousand years and high cultural
involvement in such a talent, does anyone doubt that it could become a
cultural convenience in the same way that mathematics or language has become
a cultural convenience?

    Naturally, as a result of the confrontation of alien intelligence with
organized intellect on the other side, many theories have been elaborated.
The theory that I put forth in Psilocybin: The Magic Mushroom Grower's Guide,
held the Stropharia cubensis mushroom was a species that did not evolve on
earth. Within the mushroom trance, I was informed that once a culture has
complete understanding of its genetic information, it reengineers itself for
survival. The Stropharia cubensis mushroom's version of reengineering is a
mycelial network strategy when in contact with planetary surfaces and a
spore-dispersion strategy as a means of radiating throughout the galaxy. And,
though I am troubled by how freely Bell's nonlocality theorem is tossed
around, nevertheless the alien intellecton the other side does seem to be in
possession in a huge body of information drawn from the history of the
galaxy. It/they say that there is nothing unusual about this, that humanity's
conceptions of organized intelligence and the dispersion of life in the
galaxy are hopelessly culture-bound, that the galaxy has been an organized
society for billions of years. Life evolves under so many different regimens
of chemistry, temperature, and pressure, that searching for an
extraterrestrial who will sit down and have a conversation with you is doomed
to failure. The main problem with searching for extraterrestrials is to
recognize them. Time is so vast and evolutionary strategies and evironments
so varied that the trick is to know that contact is being made at all. The
Stropharia cubensis mushroom, if one can believe what it says in one of its
moods, is a symbiote, and it desires ever deeper symbiosis with the human
species. It achieved symbiosis with human society early by associating itself
with domesticated cattle and through them human nomads. Like the plants men
and women grew and the animals they husbanded, the mushroom was able to
inculcate itself into the human family, so that where human genes went these
other genes would be carried.

    But the classic mushroom cults of Mexico were destroyed by the coming of
the Spanish conquest. The Franciscans assumed they had an absolute monopoly
on theophagy, the eating of God; yet in the New World they came upon people
calling a mushroom teonanacatl, the flesh of the gods. They set to work, and
the Inquisition was able to push the old religion into the mountains of
Oaxaca so that it only survived in a few villages when Valentina and Gordon
Wasson found it there in the 1950s.

    There is another metaphor. One must balance these explainations. Now I
shall sound as if I didn't think the mushroom is an extraterrestrial. It may
instead be what I've recently come to suspect - that the human soul is so
alienated from us in our present culture that we treat it as an
extraterrestrial. To us the most alien thing in the cosmos is the human soul.
Aliens Hollywood-style could arrive on earth tomorrow and the DMT trance
would remain more weird and continue to hold more promise for useful
information for the human future. It is that intense. Ignorance forced the
mushroom cult into hiding. Ignorance burned the libraries of the Hellenistic
world at an earlier period and dispersed the ancient knowledge, shattering
the stellar and astronomical machinery that had been the work of centuries.
By ignorance I mean the Hellenistic-Christian-Judaic tradition. The
inheritors of this tradition built a triumph of mechanism. It was they who
later realized the alchemical dreams of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries
- and the twentieth century - with the transformation of elements and the
discovery of gene transplants. But then, having conquered the New World and
driven its people into cultural fragmentation and diaspora, they came
unexpectedly upon the body of Osiris - the condensed body of Eros - in the
mountains of Mexico where Eros has retreated at the coming of the Christos.
And by finding the mushroom, they unleashed it.

    Phillip K. Dick, in one of his last novels, Valis, discusses the long
hibernation of the Logos. A creature of pure information, it was buried in
the ground at Nag Hammadi, along with the burying of the Chenoboskion Library
circa 370 A.D. As static information, it existed there until 1947, when the
texts were translated and read. As soon as people had the information in
their minds, the symbiote came alive, for, like the mushroom consciousness,
Dick imagined it to be a thing of pure information. The mushroom
consciousness is the consciousness of the Other in hyperspace, which means in
dream and in the psilocybin trance, at the quantum foundation of being, in
the human future, and after death. All of these places that were thought the
be discrete and separate are seen to be part of a single continuum. History
is the dash over ten to fifteen thousand years from nomadism to flying
saucer, hopefully without ripping the envelope of the planet so badly that
the birth is aborted and fails, and we remain brutish prisoners of matter.

    History is the shockwave of eschatology. Something is at the end of time
and is casting an enormous shadow over human history, drawing all human
becoming toward it. All the wars, the philosophies, the rapes, the pillaging,
the migrations, the cities, the civilizations - all of this is occupying a
microsecond of geological, planetary, and galactic time as the monkeys react
to the symbiote, which is in the environment and which is feeding information
to humanity about the larger picture. I do not belong to the school that
wants to attribute all of our accomplishments to knowledge given to us as a
gift from friendly aliens - I'm describing something I hope is more profound
than that. As nervous systems evolve to higher and higher levels, they come
more and more to understand the true situation in which they are embedded.
And the true situation in which we are embedded is an organism, an
organization of intelligence on a galactic scale. Science and mathematics may
be culture-bound. We cannot know for sure, because we have never dealt with
an alien mathematics or an alien culture except in the occult realm, and that
evidence is inadmissible by the guardians of scientific truth. This means
that the contents of shamanic experience and of plant-induced ecstasies are
inadmissible even though they are the source of novelty and the cutting edge
of the ingression of the novel into the plenum of being.

    Think about this for a moment: If the human mind does not loom large in
the coming history of the human race, then what is to become of us? The
future is bound to be psychedelic, because the future belongs to the mind. We
are just beginning to push the buttons on the mind. Once we take a serious
engineering approach to this, we are going to discover the plasticity, the
mutability, the eternal nature of the mind and, I believe, release it from
the monkey. My vision of the final human future is an effort to exteriorize
the soul and internalize the body, so that the exterior soul will exist as a
superconducting lens of translinguistic matter generated out of the body of
each of us at a critical juncture at our psychedelic bar mitzvah. From that
point on, we will be eternal somewhere in the solid-state matrix of the
translinguistic lens we have become. One's body image will exist as a
holographic wave transform while one is at play in the fields of the Lord and
living in Elysium.

    Other intelligent monkeys have walked this planet. We exterminated them
and so now we are unique, but what is loose on this planet is language,
self-replicating information systems that reflect functions of DNA: learning,
coding, templating, recording, testing, retesting, recodong against DNA
functions. The again, language may be a quality of an entirely different
order. Whatever language is, it is in us monkeys now and moving through us
and moving out of our hands and into the noosphere with which we have
surrounded ourselves.

    The tryptamine state seems to be in one sense transtemporal; it is an
anticipation of the future, It is as though Plato's metaphor were true - that
time IS the moving image of eternity. The tryptamine ecstacy is a stepping
out of the moving image and into eternity, the eternity of the standing now,
the nunc stans of Thomas Aquinas. In that state, all of human history is seen
to lead toward this culminating moment. Acceleration is visible in all the
processes around us: the fact that fire was discovered several million years
ago; language came perhaps thirty-five thousand years ago; measurement, five
thousand; Galileo, four hundred; then Watson-Crick and DNA. What is obviously
happening is that everything is being drawn together. On the other hand, the
description our physicists are giving us of the universe - that it has lasted
billions of years and will last billions of years into the future - is a
dualistic conception, an inductive projection that is very unsophisticated
when applied to the nature of consciousness and language. Consciousness is
somehow able to collapse the state vector and thereby cause the stuff of
being to undergo what Alfred North Whitehead called "the formality of
actually occurring." Here is the beginning of an understanding of the
centrality of human beings. Western societies have been on a decentralizing
bender for five hundred years, concluding that the Earth is not the center of
the universe and man is not the beloved of God. We have moved ourselves out
toward the edge of the galaxy, when the fact is that the most richly
organized material in the universe is th human cerebral cortex, and the
densest and richest experience in the univese is the experience you are
having right now. Everything should be constellated outward from the
perceiving self. That is the primary datum.

    The perceiving self under the influence of these hallucinogenic plants
gives information that is totally at variance with the models that we inherit
from our past, yet these dimensions exist. One one level, this information is
a matter of no great consequence, for many cultures have understood this for
millennia. But we moderns are so grotesquely alienated and taken out of what
life is about that to us it comes as a revelation. Without psychedelics the
closest we can get to the Mystery is to try to feel in some abstract mode the
power of myth or ritual. This grasping is a very overintellectualized and
unsatisfying sort of process.

    As I said, I am an explorer, not a scientist. If I were unique, then none
of my conclusions would have any meaning outside the context of myself. My
experiences, like yours, have to be more or less part of the human condition.
Some may have more facility for such exploration than others, and these
states may be difficult to achieve, but they are part of the human condition.
There are few clues that these extradimensional places exist. If art carries
images out of the Other from the Logos to the world - drawing ideas down into
matter - why is human art history so devoid of what psychedelic voyagers have
experienced so totally? Perhaps the flying saucer or UFO is the central motif
to be understood in order to get a handle on reality here and now. We are
alienated, so alienated that the self must disguise itself as an
extraterrestrial in order not to alarm us with the truly bizarre dimensions
that it encompasses. When we can love the alien, then we will have begun to
heal the psychic discontinuity that has plagued us since at least the
sixteenth century, possibly earlier.

    My testimony is that magic is alive in hyperspace. It is not necessary to
believe me, only to form a relationship with these hallucinogenic plants. The
fact is that the gnosis comes from plants. There is some certainty that one
is dealing with a creature of integrity if one deals with a plant, but the
creatures born in the demonic artifice of laboratories have to be dealt with
very, very carefully. DMT is an endogenous hallucinogen. It is present in
small amounts in the human brain. Also it is improtant that psilocybin is
4-phosphoraloxy-N, N-dimethyltryptamine and that serotonin, the major
neurotransmitter in the human brain, found in all life and most concentrated
in humans, is 5-hydroxytryptamine. The very fact that the onset of DMT is so
rapid, coming on in forty-five seconds and lasting five minutes, means that
the brain is absolutely at home with this compound. On the other hand, a
hallucinogen like LSD is retained in the body for some time.

    I will add a cautionary note. I always feel odd telling people to verify
my observations since the sine qua non is the hallucinogenic plant.
Experimenters should be very careful. One must build up to the experience.
These are bizarre dimensions of extraordinary power and beauty. There is no
set rule to avoid being overwhelmed, but move carefully, reflect a great
deal, and always try to map experiences back onto the history of the race and
the philosphical and religious accomplishments of the species. All the
compounds are potentially dangerous, and all compounds, at sufficient doses
or repeated over time, involve risks. The library is the first place to go
when looking into taking a new compound.

    We need all the information availaable to navigate dimensions that are
profoundly strange and alien. I have been to Konarak and visited Bubaneshwar.
I'm familiar with Hindu iconography and have collected thankas. I saw
similarites between my LSD experiences and the iconography of Mahayana
Buddhism. In fact, it was LSD experiences that drove me to collect Mahayana
art. But what amazed me was the total absence of the motifs of DMT. It is not
there; it is not there in any tradition familiar to me.

    There is a very interesting story by Jorge Luis Borges called "The Sect
of the Phoenix." Allow me to recapitulate. Borges starts out by writing:
"There is no human group in which members of the sect do not appear. It is
also true that there is no persecution or rigor they have not suffered and
perpetrated." He continues,

    The rite is the only religious practice observed by the sectarians. The
    rite constitutes the Secret. This Secret...is transmitted from generation
    to generation. The act in itself is trivial, momentary, and requires no
    description. The Secret is sacred, but is always somewhat ridiculous; its
    performance is furtive and the adept do not speak of it. There are no
    decent words to name it, but it is understood that all words name it or
    rather inevitably allude to it.

Borges never explicitly says what the Secret is, but if one knows his other
story, "The Aleph," one can put these two together and realize that the Aleph
is the experience of the Secret of the Cult of the Phoenix.

    In the Amazon, when the mushroom was revealing its information and
deputizing us to do various things, we asked, "Why us? Why should we be the
ambassadors of an alien species into human culture?" And it answered,
"Because you did not believe in anything. Because you have never given over
your belief to anyone." The sect of the phoenix, the cult of this experience,
is perhaps millennia old, but it has not yet been brought to light where the
historical threads may run. The prehistoric use of ecstatic plants on this
planet is not well understood. Until recently, psilocybin mushroom taking was
confined to the central isthumus of Mexico. The psilocybin-containing species
Stropharia cubensis is not known to be in archaic use in a shamanic rite
anywhere in the world. DMT is used in the Amazon and has been for millennia,
but by cultures quite primitive - usually nomadic hunter-gatherers.

    I am baffled by what I call "the black hole effect" that seems to
surround DMT. A block hole causes a curvature of space such that no light can
leave it, and, since no signal can leave it, no information can leave it. Let
us leave aside the issue of whether this is true in practice of spinning
black holes. Think of it as a metaphor. Metaphorically, DMT is like an
intellectual black hole in that once one knows about it, it is very hard for
others to understand what one is talking about. One cannot be heard. The more
one is able to articulate what it is, the less others are able to understand.
This is why I think people who attain enlightenment, if we may for a moment
comap these two things, are silent. They are silent because we cannot
understand them. Why the phenomenon of tryptamine ecstasy has not been looked
at by scientists, thrill seekers, or anyone else, I am not sure, but I
recommend it to your attention.

    The tragedy of our cultural situation is that we have no shamanic
tradition. Shamanism is primarily techniques, not ritual. It is a set of
techniques that have been worked out over millennia that mo\ake it possible,
though perhaps not for everyone, to explore these areas. People of
predilection are noticed and encouraged.

    In archaic societies where shamanism is a thriving institution, the signs
are fairly easy to recognize: oddness or uniqueness in an individual.
Epilepsy is often a signature in preliterate societies, or survival of an
unusual ordeal in an unexpected way. For instance, people who are struck by
lightning and live are thought to make excellent shamans. People who nearly
die of a disease and fight their way back to health after weeks and weeks of
an indeterminate zone are thought to have strength of soul. Among aspiring
shamans there must be some sign of inner strength or a hypersensitivity to
trance states. In traveling around the world and dealing with shamans, I find
the distinguishing characteristic is an extraordinary centeredness. Usually
the shaman is an intellectual and is alienated from society. A good shaman
sees exactly who you are and says, "Ah, here's somebody to have a
conversation with." The anthropological literature always presents shamans as
embedded in a tradition, but once one gets to know them they are always very
sophisticated about what they are doing. They are the true phenomenologists
of this world; they know plant chemistry, yet they call these energy fields
"spirits." We hear the word "spirits" through a series of narrowing
declensions of meaning that are worse almost than not understanding. Shamans
speak of "spirit" the way a quantum physicist might speak of "charm"; it is a
technical gloss for a very complicated concept.

    It is possible that there are shamanic family lines, at least in the case
of hallucinogen-using shamans, because shamanic ability is to some degree
determined by how many active receptor sites occur in the brain, thus
facilitating these experiences. Some claim to have these experiences
naturally, but I am underwhelmed by the evidence that this is so. What it
comes down to for me is "What can you show me?"

    I always ask that question; finally in the Amazon, informants said,
"Let's take our machetes and hike out here half a mile and get some vine and
boil it up and we will show you what we can show you."

    Let us be clear. People die in these societies that I'm talking about all
the time and for all kinds of reasons. Death is really much more among them
than it is in our society. Those who have epilepsy who don't die are brought
to the attention of the shaman and trained in breathing and plant usage and
other things - the fact is that we don't really know all of what goes on.
These secret information systems have not been well studied. Shamanism is
not, in these traditional societies, a terribly pleasant office. Shamans are
not normally allowed to have any political power, because they are sacred.
The shaman is to be found sitting at the headman's side in the council
meetings, but after the council meeting he returns to his hut at the edge of
the village. Shamans are peripheral to society's goings on in ordinary social
life in every sense of the word. They are called on in crisis, and the crisis
can be someone dying or ill, a psychological difficulty, a marital quarral, a
theft, or weather that must be predicted.

    We do not live in that kind of society, so when I explore these plants'
effects and try to call your attention to them, it is as a phenomenon. I
don't know what we can do with this phenomenon, but I have a feeling that the
potential is great. The mind-set that I always bring to it is simply
exploratory and Baconian - the mapping and gathering of facts.

    Herbert Guenther talks about human uniqueness and says one must come to
terms with one's uniqueness. We are naive about the role of language and
being as the primary facts of experience. What good is a theory of how the
universe works if it's a series of tensor equations that, even when
understood, come nowhere tangential to experience? The only intellectual or
noetic or spiritual path worth following is one that builds on personal
experience.

    What the mushroom says about itself is this: that it is an
extraterrestrial organism, that spores can survive the conditions of
interstellar space. They are deep, deep purple - the color that they would
have to be to absorb the deep ultraviolet end of the spectrum. The casing of
a spore is one of the hardest organic substances known. The electron density
approaches that of a metal.

    Is it possible that these mushrooms never evolved on earth? That is what
the Stropharia cubensis itself suggests. Global currents may form on the
outside of the spore. The spores are very light and by Brownian motion are
capable of percolation to the edge if the planet's atmosphere. Then, through
interaction with energetic particles, some small number could actually escape
into space. Understand that this is an evolutionary strategy where only one
in many billions of spores actually makes the transition between the stars -
a biological strategy for radiating throughout the galaxy without a
technology. Of course this happens over very long periods of time. But if you
think that the galaxy is roughly 100,000 light-years from edge to edge, if
something were moving only one one-hundredth the speed of light - now that's
not a tremendous speed that presents problems to any advanced technology - it
could cross the galaxy in one hundred million years. There's life on this
planet 1.8 billion years old; that's eighteen times longer than one hundred
million years. So, looking at the galaxy on those time scales, one sees that
the percolation of spores between the stars is a perfectly viable strategy
for biology. It might take millions of years, but it's the same principle by
which plants migrate into a desert or across an ocean.

    There are no fungi in the fossil record older than forty million years.
The orthodox explaination is that fungi are soft-bodied and do not fossilize
well, but on the other hand we have fossilized soft-bodied worms and other
benthic marine invertebrates from South African gunflint chert that is dated
to over a billion years.

    I don't necessarily believe what the mushroom tells me; rather we have a
dialogue. It is a very strange person and has many bizarre opinions. I
entertain it the way I would any eccentric friend. I say, "Well, so that's
what you think." When the mushroom began saying it was an extraterrestrial, I
felt that I was placed in the dilemma of a child who wishes to destroy a
radio to see if there are little people inside. I couldn't figure out whether
the mushroom is the alien or the mushroom is some kind of technological
artifact allowing me to hear the alien when the alien is actually light-years
aways, using some kind of Bell nonlocality principle to communicate.

    The mushroom states its own position very clearly. It says, "I require
the nervous system of a mammal. Do you have one handy?"

                                    ----
                                    fini
                                    ----