When we had all finished being convulsed with laughter, I saw that George had stopped smiling and was looking at Tim, saying, “I’m serious.”
I felt a wave of sympathy for George and looked at Tim, who said nothing. I looked at him very intently and repeated, “What would the priest say to George’s question, Tim?”
Tim became very confused. He did not seem to hear and was fiddling with his hearing aid. We repeated the question. Then he looked at me in silence for a very long time. I became aware of how important the question had become to me. It was the question about this night, about our work, about our whole life, which had come to revolve so much around these drugs—was it good or bad? It had become a very basic question about existence and personal worth, the question to which each one must find his own answer. This was what I felt Tim to be saying by not answering the question: everyone must come to terms with his or her own condition. When I realized that this was what he meant, I felt tears streaming down my face, but not tears of sadness.
After a while, Tim began to tell a story about a Catholic man he used to know, who always referred to a boy with certain sexual habits as “the monster.” I felt this was the priest’s answer to George’s original question about how to define sin; at the base of the Catholic concept of sin lies a strong disgust toward sexuality.
As I was trying to tell Mike how I felt about these two answers, the human one, and the Catholic one, I saw that Tim had “said” all these things unintentionally. He protested that he did not even hear half of what was going on, and that he felt like a figment of George Litwin’s imagination. He said he was in a terrible bind and didn’t know how to get out of it. He said he had always regarded us as equals and felt betrayed that he was suddenly being called upon to answer religious questions.
“What have you all been doing all these months?”
Mike, speaking very quickly, said some intense things about Zen masters and Buddha and Jesus, and that Tim had to suffer so that we could learn. All leaders have to go through the same process of awakening to the fact that they are being regarded as leaders, not as equals, as they would like to be.
Gunther said the time might come when he would decide to leave Tim because he disagreed with him and didn’t want this pure thing corrupted. He saw Tim being sucked into an evil game because he was so naive.
The room had become almost totally dark. We all sat quietly for a long time, then Gunther said, “You know, Tim, only a Jew and a Catholic could have this sort of discussion.”
Tim asked, “What is there of me to leave?” He had always regarded us as equal work-partners, as a group working together for common goals.
Gunther replied, “Yes, I see that now, I recognize the different roles we play. But there was a time when I exalted you, looked up to you, worshipped you. Now you have come down to a human level.”
There was a terrible groan of protest from George Litwin.
“Wait a minute, wait . . . I am neither Jew nor Catholic, so I can speak here with some impartiality. There was a time before when the Jews exalted a man and made him divine and then nailed him up when they discovered he was human after all. Whether it’s a fact or not is irrelevant; it is a tradition, and one that we should cease to live by. It’s the Jewish tradition that some people are closer to God than others. But there is another one, the one of the Declaration of Independence, where men gather together to draw up a petition in equality.”
George was magnificent. He was fighting for a new start, away from the ancient modes of exalting people and then tearing them down, toward a vision of true equality between men and common goals and shared responsibility. Most of us heaved a profound sigh of relief. Maynard and Flo cheered.
The bubble had been broken. Tim got up and went to the kitchen and left the door open. A bright shaft of light streamed into the room. The depressing fog of incipient religious bigotry was dispersed. The tendency to over-idealize a potential leader had been clearly revealed and uprooted, at least for that group and that time.
This account is extracted from a longer essay entitled, “From Harvard to Zihuatanejo,” published in Robert Forte, ed., Timothy Leary: Outside Looking In (Rochester, Vt.: Inner Traditions, 1990).
EXPERIENTIAL TEACHINGS OF THE MUSHROOM SPIRITS
THE MUSHROOM BEINGS WOULD HELP US RETURN TO OUR TRUE NATURE
LEILA CASTLE
Mushroom journeys spanning twenty years of a woman artist’s life provided healing and visionary inspiration. They empower her connection to an ancient lineage of priestesses and have led her to a peaceful, beauty-filled life in a natural setting.
OAXACA, MEXICO 1975
The noisy bus clamored with chickens and babies crying as it labored up the mountainous dirt road. A young Mexican girl swayed in the aisle, playfully singing that Dion Warwick song, “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?” Traveling with friends in Mexico, we had decided to look for the sacred mushrooms in the mountains of Oaxaca. I imagined I was some kind of wild, tantric gypsy who had given up everything to the present path of adventure. I had experienced psychedelics before, but never mushrooms. Little did I know that I would be entering into an ancient pathway and that these plant spirits would be my teachers for many years to come.
As we stumbled off the bus in the thick darkness of San Jose del Pacifico at midnight, rifle-slung soldiers searched us and robbed us of a knife. Then we followed our friends through the forest to a hut that we shared with several Mexican families that night. I slept wrapped in blankets peacefully on the earthen floor, calmed by the innocent sound of the children’s soft breath as they dreamed.
The next morning, as I wandered by myself down a dusty road, a little boy approached me, saying “Hongos? Hongos?” I followed him into the conifer-scented forest, feeling like I was in a fairytale. He led me to his home where his young mother, a beautifully radiant Indian woman stood in her doorway, resting a basket of freshly-picked glistening blue mushrooms on her pregnant belly. She invited me to stay.
By sunset we were perched on the edge of the forest ridge overlooking the Pacific Ocean far below, completely entranced by the mushroom beings. They sang sweetly for hours and showed me that the forest was alive and dancing with spirits. I watched, astonished, as clouds in the western sky began to form a gigantic, perfectly shaped mushroom cloud that looked like a nuclear explosion. They communicated to me that humans at this time on the planet had a choice: we could either follow the path of warfare and destruction that this mushroom cloud symbolized, or its antidote: the mushroom beings, who would help us return to our true nature and the ancient wisdom of the Earth and the interconnection of all life within Gaia.
I stayed in Oaxaca for six months, learning from the mushrooms and returning to the mountains many times. They continue to teach me their original message and to weave their spell through my life.
PALENQUE, MEXICO, VIRGO FULL MOON 1976
It was not long before I was back in Mexico, this time with a friend. We were camping in a hammock in the rainforest beside the Mayan temple ruins of Palenque in the southern state of Chiapas. On the full moon, we woke before dawn and walked to the nearby mushroom fields. To this day, this experience remains perhaps the most exquisite vision of pure earthly beauty and enchantment that I have ever had the blessing to witness. Everywhere cows lay peacefully in the fields, their graceful horns in silhouette on the sky like the Egyptian goddesses Isis/Hathor. Over the western mountains, a luminous milk-white Virgo full moon was setting, while to the east, in the still, starry-streaming, rainbow colors of impending dawn, the planet Venus, dazzling jewel-like, was joined by Comet West, with its great plumed tail flaring beside her. We gathered our mushrooms from the lush, emerald fields while these celestial spirits shone around us.
We spent the day among the temple ruins in deep communion with the mushroom beings. As the mushrooms and I joined together, I began to hear their childlike voices and see them coming toward me. They were made from rainbow light and carried brightly colored parasols th
at would turn into mandalas. As they approached, they came up into my inner vision as if looking into the window of my mind. They thought this was extremely funny, saying they were “tourists,” and I realized that we were in fact touring each other’s realms through the mushroom window of perception.
The temple gardens were exceptionally fragrant with orange blossoms warmed by the heat of the day and I felt completely intoxicated with bliss. I spent a long while doing cloud meditations, watching the clouds form and dissolve many different images, creatures, and beings in a constant stream. Butterflies and dragonflies flitted about gently everywhere as I melted into Mayan dreamworld visions, prayers, meditation, and laughter. Many years later I would learn this state is described as the “flowery dream.” I had a very strong experience of opening to the spirit of my first child at this time, and indeed, he was conceived within a few months and born the next year between these two moons. I thank the goddess Ixchel for her blessings of beauty, creativity, and children in my life.
DESERT HOT SPRINGS, CALIFORNIA 1990
We set our intention together and gradually began coming on. At first I felt nervous and a little shaky, but then I began to feel the mushrooms spreading through me. I was very aware of body sensations, heartbeat, then it started to smooth as I began to surrender. I heard the mushroom beings’ friendly voices after so long, greeting me, welcoming me, calling me “Little Sister.” It felt wonderful, like coming home.
Entered their world. They took me to a rainforest where everything was magnificently alive and vibrant. Tree roots spiraled like snakes in the rich fecund Earth. The roots became snakes, everything became snakes, as I heard her say, “I am Mama Quilla,” who is a South American moon goddess. I saw the radiant full moon illuminating a tree where a beautiful white plumed bird roosted in the upper branches and snakes coiled like roots at the base of the trunk. This was her manifestation. Then I became her; I was her. I felt myself embody this form, energy, and vision. Colorful, vividly patterned snakes, like pythons, were coiling within me. My body was completely made from this serpent energy that was winding, undulating, spiraling, slithering in an ecstatic dance within each cell. I just sat there in wonder. It felt very empowering to be dissolved into this form.
Then the mushrooms began to speak again. They were giggling and said: “Unless you get by the snakes, we won’t tell you anymore.” I knew they were joking with me about the snakes being guardians of the mysteries. I felt completely united with all of nature, the Goddess, the land, all of life. I understood that the mushroom beings are guardians of the Earth and that through our communion with them we learn to protect the well-being of the land. They showed me awesome realms of pure beauty. Everything seemed so simple in the quiet stillness of the luminous indigo desert night. This incredible dance of life is always going on in the most exquisite perfection and ecstasy, yet we ignore it, separate ourselves, lose our connection and our relationship with other life forms, thus creating all the problems our collective world now faces.
I realized a profound union with a global lineage of serpent priestesses, the pythia, oracular protectresses of the Earth. I saw how I was part of an ancient lineage through time and place and that my work has always been to perform this sacred ritual union with the mushroom spirits.
I was then given personal guidance about my children and the future. It was like visiting with the Grandmothers, I felt so much at home, welcomed and empowered by them to bring this sacred knowledge back into the world. The snakes were my adornments, my jewelry, symbols of this oracular power of the Earth to speak through her priestesses.
Tears streamed down my cheeks from the intensity of the beauty. I saw visions of tear-streaked masks of goddesses from Neolithic Old Europe. I felt the sacred moisture of the Goddess, her beauty and love. I anointed my crystals, my partner, and myself with my tears. A huge rainstorm came the next day. I felt very grateful to receive this experience from the mushrooms.
Knowing little about Mama Quilla, I later discovered she is the partner of the Incan sun god, Inti. As a pair, sun and moon, they are the primary Incan deities. Her priestesses were rainmakers.
PT. REYES, CALIFORNIA, IMBOLC 1991
We light candles and make a fire together in my big stone hearth, then sit and eat our mushrooms. We lounge quietly by the fire, sipping chamomile tea until the mushroom spirits become strong in us. I am wearing my white ritual dress and feel like the Goddess, full of love. Everything appears soft and blissful, love-soaked, as if made of nectar. I lay down and close my eyes. My body transforms into rainbow light and I feel its energy moving through me. There is nothing else. It is healing, purifying everything. I feel it moving through me, healing wounds through time, healing everywhere. I am spraying rainbow lights and hear the mushrooms tell me to be love, that there is nothing but love and to twine my heart with my partner’s heart. I look at him and I have never seen him so beautiful. I see our hearts weave together like two serpents dancing. They coil upward like a caduceus forming one column. The mushroom spirits have taken my heart and given me a new one made from a substance that looks like clear crystal, but it is rainbow light emanating from a lotus mandala. We make offerings to the fire and pray for the Middle East. We make love for hours by the fire in this exquisite love nectar.
PALENQUE 1995
While in Palenque, Chiapas, Mexico to observe and celebrate the planet Pluto’s entrance into the sign of Sagittarius, I realized I was there for the same Cancer full moon in January during which the experience with Mama Quilla and the serpent energy had occurred. As I made offerings of perfume to the Goddess sitting at the entrance of the Jaguar Temple, I noticed a great tree before me. It looked just like the tree with the coiling roots I had seen in the mushroom journey at Desert Hot Springs. There was a mysterious linking that collapsed time and space, completely independent of my conscious awareness.
None of this was planned. It was the language of the mushroom beings.
I journeyed that day nineteen years after I had witnessed the spectacular display of Comet West with Venus in the predawn sky. The mushroom beings were gentle and healing. I was not well and they told me I needed rest and to be very gentle with myself. As I sat within a temple portal gazing out into the surrounding ruins, the entire rainforest came alive in a kind of hyper-real clarity, very magical. Everything was there as it appeared normally, yet it was as if it were one body, seamless, including me. I became aware of an enormous spider goddess spirit whose web was the rainforest itself. I believe this was a form of the Mayan moon goddess Ixchel as weaver. I lay back inside the temple on a blanket and closed my eyes to dream. Fireflies began to appear, weaving patterns of light through my whole body until I was filled with their shimmering golden light, made of it. They said they would help me to get well. I bathed in this radiance for a long while and experienced a complete union with the rainforest and the spirit of the place.
Later, while resting in my hotel room, I realized I was quite ill. Fortunately, a friend came by to check on me who had an emergency homeopathic treatment kit and surmised that what I needed was Cantharis, or Spanish fly! It helped tremendously and immediately alleviated my symptoms.
In 1975, I was a twenty-two-year-old artist and dancer following a faery trail. Wandering and in need of healing, I journeyed to Oaxaca, where mushrooms opened realms that continue to guide and teach me: the experience of nondual consciousness, dharma, the preciousness of all life, deities, ancestors, sacredness of place, land and body, otherworlds. This path has led me in giving birth, mothering, working with children, teaching, traveling to sacred sites worldwide pioneering geomantic research, ritual and pilgrimage, organizing and producing educational and arts events, teaching, writing and publishing on the sacred feminine and sacred place, all with the intention to transform consciousness and actions that are tragically destroying the fabric of our lives and world.
Rich with loved ones scattered near and far, my life is simple. I live in the country along the California coast with the garde
n, apple trees, wild beaches, and deer. My children are grown, strong, and living their own lives, though we remain close. I have worked with botanical fragrance for over twenty-five years and created an original collection of natural botanical perfumes. Changing mediums I paint, write, and weave the arts, magic, prayers, and daily life.
Leila Castle is the editor of the book, Earthwalking Sky Dancers (Berkeley, Calif.: Frog, Ltd., 1996).
THE LAND OF ETERNAL WAITING—REPORT OF A MUSHROOM EXPERIENCE WITH MARIA SABINA
FREDERICK SWAIN
With the guidance of the curandera Maria Sabina, a forty-year-old American Vedantist monk is transported to a timeless realm and given a Mazatec identity.
Primitive religious rituals have always fascinated me and I have sought them out in my travels whenever possible. A few years ago I heard of the discovery of a new hallucinogenic mushroom in Mexico by the mycologist, R. Gordon Wasson. The religious rituals woven around the mushroom captured my imagination. I decided to investigate at the first opportunity.
In 1961, I went to Mexico to hunt for this mushroom. I had little knowledge of its nature. I knew that this species grows in the mountains of southern Mexico, and that there is a curandera (or shaman) in the village of Huautla de Jimenez, who performs religious mushroom rituals. I went to Mexico City with the hope of obtaining more detailed information before continuing on to the mountains, but I could not find anyone who had even heard of the mushroom. So I started out alone by bus to the village in the Sierra Mazatec range in the state of Oaxaca.
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