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Sacred Mushroom of Visions

Page 19

by Ralph Metzner


  no difference between skins

  last abstraction of self and self’s body gone

  hairs on leg (my leg?) tripled move in sharp

  perspective

  like little fleas in Tivoli sideshow in Copenhagen

  no word spoken

  five us sit on terrace

  still staring space

  catatonic silent withdrawn

  Ruth I talk

  She psychiatric nurse

  I good patient.

  She talks earnestly about . . . reality

  You must try LSD

  and mescaline and

  see if they are

  from different

  mushrooms

  Listen tolerantly.

  Pity her.

  Poor creature.

  Thinks such affairs important.

  Mind games. Head trips.

  Whiskers walks in kitchen completely dressed, he is going to town. He is so serious about the comic game in which he is trapped. Whiskers seems so can’t bear funny.

  On patio

  Scientist Gerhart giggly, sitting peacefully.

  Lost contemplation.

  Joan by side

  But

  She is fighting spell

  Fluttering,

  Talking

  Refusing to relax.

  Holds bowl of mushrooms in hand

  Hostess pushing cookies at church tea.

  Have another, one more makes all the difference.

  I eat a second.

  Have another, one more makes all the difference.

  I eat a third.

  Swim along veranda to bedroom

  Shades drawn. Dark.

  Betty feels isolated. All woman un-tilled earth. I am

  sorry tender.

  Her black hair

  drawn back big pony tail.

  Cherokee princess great beauty.

  Hummingbird words swoop from mouth.

  How do you feel?

  I sit trying to answer. Can’t talk.

  Can only look jeweled patterns,

  swirling tapestry work in closed eyes.

  What is she asking me? Oh, yes, how do I feel?

  Far far gone.

  She sits silently behind bead-work face. Do you

  have anything on your mind? Do you want to talk?

  She wants close. Intimacy. But,

  I drift off to cavern of sea light.

  Gerhart and Joan come in.

  Fall on another bed.

  In Mandy’s arms

  Her body warm foam rubber

  Marshmallow flesh

  My body gone

  Fallen into her

  Two leafy water plants

  Twined together, undulating warm bermuda sea

  deep

  Entangled so that no one

  Not even plants themselves can tell

  Which leaf

  Which stem

  Belongs to which.

  Gone again, gone into

  Palace by Nile

  Temple near Hong Kong

  Babylonian boudoir, Bedouin pleasure tent

  Gem-flash jewel

  Woven color silk gown movement

  Mosaics flaming color Muzo emerald Burma rubies

  ceylon sapphire

  Mosaics lighted from within glowing, moving,

  changing.

  Hundred reptiles, Jewel encrusted. Hammered

  Moorish patterned

  Snakeskin.

  Snake mosaic, reptiles piled in

  Giant, mile-square chest

  Slide, slither, tumble down central

  drain

  One

  By

  One

  By

  One

  Such happy beauty

  I lift up head to laugh

  From around come answering chuckles.

  Who? There are others here?

  Eye open

  Gerhart and Joan on next bed laughing

  Next to me mermaid, laughing.

  Put hand on hip where

  Skin pokes through bikini lacing

  Hand up soft back until fingers

  Sink in quicksand of flesh through skin through ribs

  Close eyes

  Moving belts like

  Inlaid Moorish patterns

  Plummeting back through time

  snake time,

  fish time

  Down through giant jungle palm time,

  green lacy ferny leaf time

  Watching first life oozing,

  writhing

  twisting up.

  Watching first sea thing crawl to shore

  Lie with her. Sand-rasp under cheek,

  Then float sea-thing, down

  Deep green sea dark

  I am first living

  Thing I

  Am.

  Laughter in dark room IT IS INTERESTING TO CONTEMPLATE A TANGLED BANK CLOTHED WITH MANY PLANTS OF MANY KINDS. Gerhart sitting up in dark shouting WITH BIRDS SINGING ON THE BUSHES WITH VARIOUS INSECTS FLITTING ABOUT. Oh God don’t let this end AND WITH WORMS CRAWLING THROUGH THE DAMP EARTH Gerhart goatee bobbing AND TO REFLECT THAT THESE ELABORATELY CONSTRUCTED FORMS SO DIFFERENT FROM EACH OTHER Gerhart gone in ecstasy AND DEPENDENT ON EACH OTHER IN SO COMPLEX A MANNER I know his ecstasy HAVE ALL BEEN PRODUCED BY LAWS ACTING AROUND US We are high. High Priests.

  THESE LAWS TAKEN IN ancient evolution trail THUS FROM THE WAR OF NATURE, FROM FAMINE AND DEATH down to fishy bottom Float with plankton THE MOST EXALTED OBJECT WHICH WE ARE CAPABLE OF CONCEIVING NAMELY down the littoral Tumbling past coral reef THE PRODUCTION OF THE HIGHER ANIMALS DIRECTLY FOLLOWS AND barnacled sea cliff Fathoms down through tangled jungle THERE IS GRANDEUR IN THIS VIEW OF LIFE Once we were all double-celled creatures Remember that WHILE THIS PLANET HAS GONE ON CYCLING ON ACCORDING TO THE FIXED LAWS OF GRAVITY Once we all drifted down soft red-walled caverns FROM SO SIMPLE A BEGINNING ENDLESS FORMS MOST BEAUTIFUL AND MOST WONDERFUL Our neurons remember HAVE BEEN AND ARE BEING EVOLVED Do you remember

  Then begins Blake’s long red voyage EVERY TIME LESS THAN A PULSATION OF THE ARTERY down the blood stream is EQUAL IN ITS PERIOD AND VALUE TO SIX THOUSAND YEARS floating, bouncing along the labyrinthian tunnels FOR IN THIS MOMENT THE POET’S WORK IS DONE artery, arteriole AND ALL THE GREAT EVENTS OF TIME START FORTH through every capillary AND ARE CONCEIVED IN SUCH A PERIOD through pink honey-comb tissue world WITHIN A MOMENT: A PULSATION OF ARTERY along soft watermelon channels EVERY SPACE LARGER THAN A RED GLOBULE OF MAN’S BLOOD part clotted scarlet swamps coagulate IS VISIONARY, AND IS CREATED BY THE HAMMER OF LOS tumbling through caverned heart hall, ventricular AND EVERY SPACE SMALLER THAN A GLOBULE sliding down the smooth aortic chute OF MAN’S BLOOD OPENS slow bumping INTO NARROW TUN-NELED PLEXUS INTO ETERNITY, OF WHICH THE VEGETABLE EARTH feel heart’s muscle motor prodding us

  Chuckles from across room

  All fall in soft laugh

  Some scene

  Four sprawl in darkened room

  Opium den of purest dreams

  Oh you worldling looking in think

  you evil no you wrong evil in your

  mental coin your evil makes me

  compassion laugh

  here is no evil

  but

  Diamond virtue

  Pure blue blueness

  Beyond desire

  Only

  Needle moment

  Buddha unity

  That’s

  why we laugh do you understand

  thinking about that paradox

  of mental evil and

  the mind-less clean diamond that’s

  why we laugh

  Words and thinking

  Are not as important as we

  Said and thought

  And so we four drugged ontologists

  Lift up heads and laugh

  Mandy stone carved semitic mask above water

  don’t sleep don’t sleep

  Miss the beauty if you sleep

  No one s
leeps

  Head fall back on bed. Floating, tumble weed, wind driven. CERTAIN SEEDS, FALLING ON WATER BECOME DUCKWEED. Dropping again down shaft of time. WHEN THEY REACH THE JUNCTION OF THE LAND AND THE WATER THEY BECOME LICHEN. See tiger jungle cats, sinewy. Good-bye. REACHING RICH SOIL, THEY BECOME WU-TSU, THE ROOT OF WHICH BECOMES GRUBS, WHILE THE LEAVES COME FROM BUTTERFLIES, OR HSU. See reptiles jewelry. Good-bye. SO GOD CREATED THE GREAT SEA MONSTERS AND EVERY LIVING CREATURE THAT MOVES, WITH WHICH THE WATERS SWARM. Now I see the straggly shore creatures. Good-bye, dear friends. THE YANG CHI GRAFTED TO AN OLD BAMBOO WHICH HAS FOR A LONG TIME PUT FORTH NO SHOOTS, PRODUCES THE CH’ING-NING. I am drifting down past flowering sea life. Good-bye. AND GOD MADE THE BEASTS OF THE EARTH ACCORDING TO THEIR KINDS AND THE CATTLE ACCORDING TO ITS KIND. Drifting down through the history of my body which is all body down to the red, wet, warm beginnings. AND GOD SAW EVERYTHING HE MADE, AND BEHOLD IT WAS VERY GOOD. I am down to the center.

  To the single point of origin. Hello.

  lay pulsing softly center

  of all life and time

  I the giant eye . . .

  Giant eye I

  Giant eye

  Eye

  I

  Lying ecstatic eyes closed on a Triassic-Jurassic sedentary rock formation, one hand on Mandy’s vertebrae hearing interstellar voices from the Mexican patio, light years away. Voice calls. Where are you? Here! I am lying unicelled looking up up up through the spiral unfolding of two billion years seeing it all ahead of me, ovum, segmentation, differentiation of organs, plant, fish, mammal, monkey, baby, grammar school, college, Harvard, Mexico, Cuernavaca. They want me way up there. Is it worth the whole journey? To start the two billion-year cycle once again? No. Why bother? Let’s move over to the Precambrian sludge, no too wet, abysses, overlying waters, narrow littoral rocks, let’s try that cenozoic snaky jungle. Ah, yes.

  IT IS NOW EIGHT O’CLOCK STOP MUSHROOM EATING BEGUN AT FIVE O’CLOCK STOP EFFECT STARTING TO WEAR OFF STOP WANT TO STAY HERE BUT CAN’T STOP RETURN-ING SOON STOP HAVING MOMENTS OF NON-TRANCE CON-SCIOUSNESS STOP STOP STOP BUT THE ENRAPTURING VISIONS RETURN AND CLUTCH OF MIND LOOSENS STOP IMPACT OF NOW-WORLD HITS RETINA AND DON’T STOP.

  Mandy and I peer out of cage at earthlings

  Acapulco friends who have just arrived

  Humor of situation pushes over brink to laughter.

  Friends listen to Dicko orate

  Shoots nervous glances in our direction

  Wildly funny

  then I realize responsibility

  and role as host

  and walk out to porch and have

  friendly conversation with new arrivals

  explaining what is

  happening and telling them to go to

  kitchen for drink and we will be

  eating supper in an hour or so they are

  relieved and we conclude our

  perfectly normal conversation

  Quiet waters roll and Dettering

  Old rumpled crocodile paddles up

  Dettering reports that the rest of the

  crowd had landed back on shore and

  were gathered around the kitchen

  table

  Whiskers had returned and Gerhart

  was dictating notes to him.

  I INTEND REMAINING OUT HERE LONG AS POSSIBLE STOP HAVING WONDERFUL TIME STOP WISH EVERYONE WERE HERE

  on livingroom couch

  head in flesh pool of Mandy’s lap

  Plastic forms spinning in eyelid.

  Ruth standing above us

  ¿Qué tal?

  Join us in the kitchen, everyone talking

  No, Ruth.

  Good-bye Ruth.

  ¿Adónde vas?

  To slinky sea bottom.

  Ruth leans down and shakes my shoulder.

  Take me with you. Tell me what you see. No. No. Dear nurse Ruth.

  I can’t.

  Ask marlin to take you with him on slippery,

  divy

  skimming jumping for joy across and

  under the sun-specked ocean

  Ask your blood to sing the song of voyage

  down to wine-red cavern of your

  heart.

  Can they speak your language? No?

  Neither me. My voice trails off as I head down

  down

  again

  Head falls through

  Butter belly and

  Melon womb to

  Sofa cushions

  Mandy is getting up to check

  on guests

  At the far end of the pool Mandy and I sit

  on beach chairs. She climbs on lap. We throw

  heads back and watch gray clouds skudding along

  black sky.

  Magic mushrooms

  Sculpting clouds

  Into Roman emperors

  Greek gods

  Football scrimmages

  Cavalry charges

  We sit for full half-hour

  No words

  Soft laughter at secret we share

  Then

  The gray masses change back to clouds

  for longer and longer periods and all

  at once my legs feel cramped and the chill of

  night air and

  the trance is over.

  The time was 9:07 and the journey into the other half of the cerebral cortex had lasted four hours and seven minutes from the time of eating.

  And that was the trip.

  It was the classic visionary voyage and I came back a changed man. You are never the same after you’ve had that one flash glimpse down the cellular time tunnel. You are never the same after you’ve had the veil drawn. again

  In the seven years since eating seven mushrooms in a garden in Mexico I have devoted all of my time and energy to the exploration and description of these strange deep realms.

  Copyright 1968, 1995 by Timothy Leary, Ph.D., from “God Reveals Himself in Mysterious Forms: The Sacred Mushrooms of Mexico,” pp. 12-34, High Priest, Ronin Publishing, by permission. All rights reserved. Roninpub.com/rn_learylib.html.

  9

  INITIAL EXPERIENCES FROM THE HARVARD PSILOCYBIN PROJECT

  RALPH METZNER

  I had my first psychedelic experience with synthetic psilocybin in 1961. Professor Leary had decided to initiate a prisoner rehabilitation project, and I had applied to be a graduate student research assistant. Growing out of Leary’s own experience and his philosophical-humanistic values, he had decided that those giving the psychedelic to the convicts should have experienced it themselves. This was fine with me since I was eager to explore this wondrous experience I had heard so much about.

  It was a chilly Sunday afternoon when I arrived at Tim’s house. Two other graduate students, Gunther Weil and Lyn K., were involved in the session, as well as Gunther’s wife Karin, and the prison psychiatrist, Madison Presnell, and his wife. After we had made ourselves comfortable in the living room, Tim gave everyone six little pink tablets, each containing 2 mg of psilocybin. He took probably a smaller dose. It had already become the preferred policy to not stress the role of guide or teacher, but rather to work on the assumption that we were fellow explorers. Nevertheless, in sessions in which he participated, Tim generally set the tone of the experience.

 

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