Even in those early mushroom experiences at La Cerrera, there was an aura of the animate and the strange that focused in the idea that the mushroom was somehow more than a plant hallucinogen, or even a shamanic ally of the classical sort.
That it was, in fact, a kind of intelligent entity, not of earth, alien, and able to present itself during the trance as a presence in the inward-turned perceptions of its beholder.
In the days following our lives, the lives of my brother and myself underwent a tremendous and bizarre transformation.
It was not until Jacques Vallée had written of the absurd element that is invariably a part of the situation in which contact with a UFO occurs that I found the courage to again examine the events at La Cerrera, to try to fit them into some general pattern.
I have told various parts of our story over the years, never revealing the entire incredible structure to any one listener, because of what I knew it seemed to imply about our mental condition during the time of the experience.
Any story of UFO contact is going to be incredible enough by itself, but central to our story are the hallucinogenic drugs that we had been experimenting with.
The very fact that we were involved with such drugs as a method of triggering UFO contacts would make any story we might eventually have to tell seem highly dubious to anyone not sympathetic to the use of hallucinogens.
There were other difficulties with telling this story.
The events at La Cerrera generated a great deal of controversy and subsequent bitterness among the participants, because several ideas of what was taking place were represented, each basing itself on data unavailable or deemed ipso facto irrelevant by the competing interpretations.
We were poorly prepared for the events that overwhelmed us.
We began as naive observers of something we knew not what, and because our involvement with this phenomenon went on for many days, we were able to observe many aspects of it, and I was able to satisfy myself.
But generally, the method of approach, which is told of here, is effective for triggering whatever it is that we call the UFO contact experience.
It may also be dangerous.
Back at the Knoll house, we kindled a fire and boiled rice for a light supper.
Rain was falling intermittently.
After dinner, we smoked and waited long, thinking that Vanessa and Dave might visit.
Finally, it began to drizzle a bit harder, and so we drew ourselves forward and each ate a large pile of mushrooms.
The onset of the Storferia was rapid and the hallucinations very vivid.
But after an hour or so, the experience did not seem to be particularly different from the earlier trips, in spite of the larger dose.
Dennis complained that he felt blocked from a deep connection by concern for our father in Colorado, whether or not our last messages to him before setting off down the Rio Putumayo had reached him before he went on his vacation.
Dennis seemed melancholy, a state of homesickness in combination with a hallucinogen, I supposed.
I tried to reassure him, and we talked softly in the darkness for several minutes.
He said that his trip consisted of many things, a suffusing inner heat and a strange audio buzzing that gave him, so he said, insight into audio and linguistic phenomena that I had experienced on DMT and described to him before.
I asked him to imitate the sounds that he was hearing, but he seemed to think it not possible.
While we talked, the drizzle had lifted somewhat, and we could faintly hear the sound of a transistor radio being carried by someone who had chosen the lead-up in the storm to make their way up the hill on a small path that passed a few feet from our hut.
Our conversation stopped, and we listened as the small radio sound drew near, and then began to fade.
At that moment, Dennis gave forth with a very machine-like, loud, dry buzz.
His body became stiff in a few seconds in which this occurred.
After a moment's silence, he broke into a frightened series of excited questions.
What happened?
And most memorably, I don't want to become a giant insect.
He was very disturbed by what had happened, and Evan and I both talked to him and attempted to calm him.
It was obvious that what to us had seemed only a strange sound had had far different effects on the person who made it.
I understood his predicament because it was familiar to me from DMT experiences, where a kind of glossolalia of thought, that seemed to me the very embodiment of meaning, seemed mere gibberish when verbalized and heard by other people.
Dennis spoke of tremendous energy in the sound, and said that he had felt it like a physical force of some kind.
We discussed it for several minutes, and finally Dennis decided that he wished to attempt the effect again.
This he did, but for a much shorter time.
He again reported that the subjective experience was of great energy being unleashed.
He said that he felt as though he might leave the ground if he directed his voice downward.
We discussed the effect in terms of sound, possibly having a synergistic effect on metabolizing drugs.
Dennis vowed that from the inside it felt like the acquisition of a shamanic power of some sort.
He began pacing around, and wishing that Vanessa would appear out of the gloom with her skepticism,
which he felt would crumble when confronted with his testimony of the reality of a strange effect.
I told him that she would only think of it as a strange sound in combination with a drug, a drug she was growing uncertain of.
At one point, he became so excited that we all three left the hut and stood looking out into the pitch darkness.
Dennis was contemplating going immediately to find Vanessa and Dave to discuss with them what had happened.
Finally, a bewildered Dev and I convinced him to return to the hut and leave it all for the morning.
Once back in the hut, there was more talk and attempts to figure out what was going on.
I felt Dennis' amazement was perfectly reasonable.
My own encounter with the audio and linguistic powers of the tryptamine drugs
had been what had originally sent me looking into hallucinogens and their place in nature.
It is an incredible experience to see all that you believe about reality changed around by these compounds.
It is edifying, and excitement is a reasonable reaction.
Throughout the making of breakfast, the events of the last evening were re-discussed and dissected.
Vanessa and Dave were unmoved by Dennis' excited assertion that some extremely peculiar energy field had been tapped into and verified.
At the end of breakfast, I suggested to Dennis that rather than arguing with people about the nature of the experience,
he should go off by himself and write down all that he thought about the strange sound that he had made.
He accepted this idea and made his way back up the hill to the Knoll House to be alone, and there he wrote.
I approached these pages with a peculiar sense of urgency, as a man might to have confronted an inexplicable phenomenon,
as some impossible creation of dreams or unaccountable natural principle.
The task facing such a man would be a very subtle one, that is, to describe the phenomenon as accurately as possible.
My task is compounded by the fact that the phenomenon I must try to describe has itself to do with the very tools of description, i.e. language.
This rather peculiar statement will begin to make more sense as we explore the concept more fully.
Before going further, something tells me it is necessary to consider who I am.
Twenty-four hours ago, I thought I knew.
Now, this has become the most perplexing question I have ever been confronted with.
The questions leading from it will provide the answers that will allow us to understand and use the phenomenon, which is so difficult to describe.
This may be the last characters of crude language that I will ever apply to the description of anything.
Since the phenomenon begins at the edge of language, where the concept forming faculty gropes but finds no words,
I must be careful to avoid not distinguishing between mere language, symbol, metaphor, and the reality I am attempting to apply it to.
Since any phenomenon is, to a point, describable in empirical terms, so too with this one.
It has to do with controlling one's body chemistry in such a way as to produce very specific vocal and audio phenomena.
The state becomes possible when highly biodynamic vegetable alkaloids, specifically tryptamines and MAO inhibitors,
are introduced into the body under very carefully regulated parameters.
This phenomenon is apparently possible in the presence of tryptamines alone,
though MAO inhibition definitely helps to trigger it by facilitating tryptamine absorption.
The phenomenon has now been triggered by two people within our immediate group.
Terrence has been experimenting with vocal phenomena under the influence of DMT for some years now,
until last night, when I triggered and experienced this sound wave for a few brief seconds under the influence of 19 stropharia mushrooms.
Terrence was the only person I knew who claimed ability to perform this sound.
But last night, after ingesting the mushrooms, we lay waiting in our hammocks.
The heavy, poisoned feeling that commonly passes briefly over the limbs at the beginning of the stropharia visions
had by this time passed completely.
It had given way, in me at least, to a warm suffusion of contentment and good feeling
that actually seemed to burn away somewhere inside of me.
Such feelings I have had before, both on mushrooms and just after DMT flashes.
Then we began to discuss people far away and how I might attempt to contact them fourth dimensionally.
Not such a strange rap for us.
But it was definitely, at some point in time, near to that conversation, that I first heard the sound.
The sound, immeasurably distant and faint, in the region between the ears, not outside, but definitely,
incredibly there, perfectly distinct on the absolute edge of audio perception.
A sound almost like a signal or very, very faint transmissions of radio buzzing from somewhere.
Something like tingling chimes at first, but gradually becoming amplified into a snapping,
popping, gurgling, crackling, electrical sound.
I tried to imitate these noises with my vocal cords, just experimenting with a kind of humming,
buzzing vocal sound made deep in the throat.
Suddenly, it was as if the sound of my voice locked into each other.
The sound was my voice, but coming out of me in such a way that no human voice could possibly distort itself,
the way mine was doing.
The sound was suddenly much intensified in energy and was like the sound of a giant insect.
This mood of calm resignation was something new to me,
perhaps enhanced by the mushroom,
but developed during the month in Columbia preceding our trek into the jungle.
As I walked, I looked for a place to sit down.
Dennis had offered me his journal entry for that day to read.
One March, 1971.
Last night, I again triggered the phenomenon after having eaten one mushroom and smoking grass.
It was almost identical for the first experience.
It was a lifting, pulsing wave of vocal buzzings, growing loud very quickly and picking up shock energy as it did so.
Though I could have prolonged the sound beyond a brief burst, I did not because of the energy.
I am certain that soon it will become possible to trigger the sound completely without tryptamines or other drugs.
It is becoming easier to plug in on each time,
and I feel now that it is accessible at any time.
It is clearly a learned activity that tryptamines can initiate and trigger,
but it can happen without tryptamines once it is understood and mastered.
We have thus far been able to establish the existence of peculiar vocal phenomena in two individuals
subject to similar experimental controls.
We must now attempt to understand what it is that the phenomenon could be.
We must perform experiments with the sound and from our results develop theories to understand the processes at work.
Terence has experimented with these sounds far more than anyone else,
and I am the only other one that I know of.
And he has discovered some interesting things.
The DMT-initiated state, which allows prolonged bursts of its vocal energy,
he describes as being one of seeing the levels of sound become more dense
as they finally materialize into small, gnome-like, machine-like creatures
made of a material like obsidian froth,
which pours from the body, mouth, and sex organs as long as the sound continues.
It is effervescent, phosphorescent, and indescribable.
Here is where the linguistic metaphors become useless for what the material actually is,
is super-linguistic matter.
It is a language, but not made of words,
a language which becomes the thing it describes.
It is a more perfect archetypal logos.
We are convinced that through experimentation with these vocal phenomena,
with and without the aid of drugs,
it will be possible to understand and use trans-linguistic matters
to accomplish any reality.
For to say anything in this voice is to cause that point to happen.
Such a rash statement would be outlandish
that we're not for our long and tedious speculations on the mind.
Such a rash statement would be outlandish
that we're not for our long and tedious speculations on the mind.
The nature of thought, of consciousness, history, magic, shamanism,
quantum and relativistic physics, metamorphosis in insects,
alchemical processes, etc.,
together with the intuitive understanding of a-causal events
that we are deriving from the stropharia,
allows us to venture in not entirely wild guess
as to what this sound, which takes form, may be.
Hallucinogens, by affecting the neural matrix,
can produce changes in consciousness in the temporal dimension.
Clearly, consciousness can work changes in three dimensions as well.
On tryptamines, it is possible, under special conditions,
to hear and vocalize a sound
that turns through a higher-dimensional manifold
and condenses as trans-linguistic matter,
that is, matter reduplicated upon itself through time,
much as a hologram is reduplicated through space.
The substance whose appearance the sounds initiate
is tryptamine metabolized by mind
through a higher spatial dimension.
It is a hyper-dimensional molecule
carrying its trip on the outside of itself in this world.
The hyper-dimensional nature of this material is such
that it is all material, concepts, events, words, people,
and ideas homogenized into one thing
via the higher-dimensional alchemy of mind.
Many questions occur concerning the phenomenology
of this temporal hologram as fluid matrix.
We speculate it is hyper-dimensionally metabolized tryptamine,
an alchemical phenomenon which is a correct union of tryptamine,
a compound nearly ubiquitous in organic nature,
with vocally produced sound mediated by mind.
It is the mind that directs this process
and that direction consists of a harmonic attunement
to an interiorized audio-linguistic phenomenon
which may be an electron spin resonance tone
of the psilocybin molecule.
When this tone is locked in on,
a process which consists of vocally imitating
the interior tone to perfection,
the hyper-dimensional tryptamine is produced.
Is this substance mental as an idea is mental?
Is it as real as an ordinary liquid like water?
Harner insisted that Hivaro shamans,
under the influence of MAO-inhibiting,
tryptamines plus Benisteriopsis copy infusions,
produce a fluorescent liquid
by means of which they accomplish all their magic.
Though invisible to ordinary perception,
this fluid is said to be visible
to anyone who has ingested the brew.
Yahé is frequently associated with violet auras
and deep blue hallucinations.
This may indicate a thermal plasma,
perhaps only visible in the UV spectrum.
If this phenomenon is found
to fall into the category mental indicated above,
it would function as described,
but with the limitation of not being tangential
to ordinary space-time.
It will still represent perfected understanding
of the hyper-dimension,
Jung named the collective unconscious.
Looking back from a vantage point
of nearly eight years,
on the other day,
it will still represent perfected understanding
of the hyper-dimension,
Jung named the collective unconscious.
Looking back from a vantage point
of nearly eight years,
on these notes makes them appear naive.
At the time when I first read them,
I doubted what I read,
since it seemed to go against
the grain of common sense,
and at that time,
I could not really understand them.
Today, after years of education
pushed toward understanding
the events at La Chirera,
these ideas seem as magically near
and yet as far as they did then.
We had a theory,
and we had experiences,
and we linked them through an experiment
that is preposterous,
unless there is some seed
of operational truth
in the bizarre ideas
born in that period.
The years pass,
and the theories deepen.
What you call time
is actually man,
the oracular voice of the mushroom
ventured recently to tell me.
So it is that years later,
I still pursue
and still do not understand
the angelic glossolalia
that psilocybin makes possible
for the thinking mind
and the singing voice.
Is it, I now wonder,
an ur-language of emotions
that originates in that
unexplored part of the brain
that is a reflection of Broca's area,
but which is on the other,
non-dominant side of the brain?
Could there be a language
so intense and so emotional
that no cultural conventions
of meaning would be necessary
to understand?
A language of emotion
so intense
that though it would be conveyed
by vocal sound,
its richness would be so great
that it would be the equivalent
of a telepathic ray?
Today, I think so,
and with the aid of psilocybin,
I labor carefully to perfect it.
I believe that it is a subroutine
of the human organism,
an ancient shamanic art
of using sound
to convey incredible emotion,
emotion so intense
that its power is truly magical.
Perhaps these ideas are no more
than Dennis were then
concerning the meaning
of the powers of psilocybin.
What unites the two perceptions
is the sense of a nearby mystery
of tremendous importance.
Elusive as the mystery has been,
that sense of its imminence
has never left my experience.
Mysteries are not unsolved problems.
They are things which in their very nature
are mysterious.
I would have not believed
such a thing possible
had I not been shown.
Dennis, who had been rather withdrawn
and snappish with everyone
since his experience
and its mixed reception,
had wandered down the forest trail
in the direction of the Witoto village
thirteen kilometers away.
He had taken his notebook.
In the middle of the afternoon,
he returned.
He was very excited,
and he had completed
writing out the preliminary notes
for what became
the experiment at La Cerrera.
It was the only written record
of his ideas
that was actually made at the time,
and as such,
is the only piece
of written primary evidence
that we have
about how we both viewed
what we were doing
as we were doing it.
These notes do not, of course,
represent the final form
of our theorizing
about these matters.
Refinement of these ideas
has been constant
since their creation.
These notes are not
to be taken
at face value at all.
The scientific basis
of our work
is elaborately described
in the invisible landscape.
That work represents
our considered
composite opinion
as of 1975.
The present work
is the story
of the growth
of those ideas
through time,
and shows
the fallacies
and myths
spun into the fabric
of the first conception
of these ideas.
But how complete
the vision was
and how finely worked
its detail,
the working understanding
that is represented
in these notes
of my brothers,
are the operational basis
of the effect
that we did trigger
on the 5th of March.
His notes
were our working myth,
and they did have
great effectiveness.
They are not, however,
for the reader
faint of heart.
They are like the words
of a magical incantation.
Magicians will wish
to linger over them.
The rest of us
might wish
to skim over them
and hurry on
with what is,
even without the theory,
a ripping good story.
To March.
Further experiments
with the audio warp phenomenon
yesterday
raised some interesting
new questions
and enhance
our ongoing understanding.
I chose the term
audio warp
because my experience
thus far,
coupled with
what I have been told,
leads me to believe
that this all
has to do
with vocally generating
a specific kind
of energy field
which can rupture
three-dimensional space.
I do not understand
if the field
is electromagnetic,
but it seems
to bend space
in such a way
as to turn it upon itself
through a higher dimension.
Here is how it is done.
One must take
enough psilocybin
to allow the sound
to be audible.
This sound,
we understand,
to be the ESR
of the resonating
psilocybin alkaloids
within the mushroom.
The presence
of rapidly metabolizing
high-energy
tryptamines
within the Yah-He
acts as antenna
that sensitizes
the neural matrix
to the spin resonance energy
of the sterfarious psilocybin.
It is this principle
that allows the signal
to be made audible.
It must then be amplified
via the tryptamine
admixture antenna
to what is felt
to be its fullest amplitude.
Then,
via vocal sound,
this energy
is placed
into the harming complex
within the body
and within the mushroom
which has been,
in some small part,
cooled to absolute zero,
the temperature
at which molecular vibration
ceases
through absorption
of the psilocybin ESR pulses.
Once this ESR wave
has been audially detected,
it will be possible
to amplify it
within the neural circuits
by channeling it
through the harming complex.
That is,
by imitating
the psilocybin ESR
with the voice
causing the amplified sound
to strike a harmonic tone
with the harming metabolizing
in the brain,
thereby exciting
the harming ESR.
Since harming complexes
are merely further down
the same biosynthetic pathway
that converts tryptophan
into psilocybin,
it is possible
to consider
the ESR tone
of psilocybin
as a harmonic overtone
of harming
and vice versa.
Using harmonic overtones,
it is possible
to sound a tone
which will cancel
one or more
of its octaves
reflected in harmonic scales
above and below it.
This is easily demonstrated
on a cello.
Suppose a tone,
say the open string A,
is sounded.
The sound is a wave vibration
of air molecules
caused by the string
which acts as a resonator.
The tone is heard
most loudly
in the key
in which it was sounded,
but it also sounds
every other key of A
in the octaves
above and below it.
It is possible
to cancel out
the original tones
by touching the string
very lightly
at certain harmonic points.
When this is done,
the overtones
in the higher
and lower registers
become audible.
If one understands
the theory
of harmonic resonators
well enough,
one can determine
which overtones
will be resonated
if certain points
on the string
are touched.
When this understanding
is applied
to molecular ESR resonation,
it remains essentially
the same in principle.
When the ESR tone
of the psilocybin
is heard
and the harming complex
is being metabolized
within the system,
causing its ESR
to begin to resonate
at a higher level.
According to the principles
of tonal physics,
this will automatically
cancel out
the original tone,
that is,
the psilocybin ESR,
and cause the molecule
to cease to vibrate.
However,
the ESR tone
that sustains
the molecular coherency
is carried
for a microsecond
on the overtonal ESR
of the harming complex.
This leaves
the momentarily
electrically canceled
and superconductive
psilocybin
suspended
in a low-energy
electromagnetic field
generated
by the harming ESR.
In so doing,
it will regain
its original
but now
superconductively
amplified ESR signal
which will permanently
lock it in
to a superconductive state.
As this phenomenon
proceeds,
it will automatically
trigger the inverse
of the initial process.
The psilocybin
superconductively charged
by mind
will harmonically cancel
the ESR resonance
of the harming
within the brain.
The energy
of the harming
psilocybin complex
ESR
will be absorbed
instantly
into the matrix
of the mushroom.
This will cause
these molecules
metabolizing within
the body
and bonded
to neural DNA
to instantly drop
to absolute zero.
Clearly,
this harming
psilocybin DNA
complex
must immediately
separate itself
from the cellular matrix.
There is great danger
at this moment
but pathways
exist to deal
with it.
We will find
that these molecules
condense out of our bodies
accompanied by a sound.
This sound
will be the harmonic
ESR tone
of this complex
amplified superconductively
and broadcasted frozen
into the superconductive
matrix of the mushroom.
The superconductively
charged psilocybin
acts as an antenna
which picks up
the amplified
ESR signals
of the complex
and condenses
vibrational signals
into a superconductive matrix.
The opus
can now be
briefly summarized.
The mushroom
must be taken
and heard.
The yah-hey
must be taken
and charged
with the overtonal
ESR of the psilocybin
via voice-imparted
amplified sound.
The ESR
resonance
of the psilocybin
in the mushrooms
will be cancelled
and it will drop
into a superconducting state.
A small portion
of the physical matter
of the mushroom
will be obliterated.
The superconductively
charged psilocybin
will pick up
the ESR harmonic
of the yah-hey complex.
This energy
will be instantly
and completely
absorbed
by the higher dimensional
tryptamine template.
It will be transferred
to the mushroom
as vocal sound
and condensed
onto the psilocybin
as a bonded complex
of superconductive
harming psilocybin DNA.
The result
will be a molecular aggregate
of hyperdimensional
superconducting matter
that receives
and sends messages
transmitted by thought
that stores
and retrieves information
in a holographic fashion
in neural DNA
and that depends
on superconductive
harming
as a transducer
energy source
and superconductive
superconductive RNA is a temporal matrix. This aggregate will be a living and functioning part
of the brain of the molecular singer who creates it. It will be composed of higher dimensional
matter, that is, matter that has been turned through the higher dimension via the process
of cancelling its electrical charge with a harmonic vibration, transmitting that vibration across
space from superconductive transmitter to superconductive receiver, and then recondensing
that vibration onto a superconductive template, the charred psilocybin in the mushroom, until
the harming psilocybin DNA complex condenses into a superconducting molecule, a molecule
that is hyperdimensional matter, would by this theory remain so as long as it remains
in the superconducting configuration, probably forever since it is powered by its own ESR
energy. It will then be responsive to commands via endogenous tryptamine ESR, thoughts, it
will be keyed into our collective DNAs, and it will contain harming as a superconductive
transceiver and power source.
It was his idea, and it seemed to me a magnificent one, that the body is like an undiscovered musical
and scientific instrument whose potential lies all around and within us, but of which we are unaware.
He said that the mind, through an act of will, could use the singing voice to interact with
the brain as though it were a color organ and a holographic library all wrapped into one.
Dennis pointed the way toward a kind of Orphic science where the great advances would be made
using only the interaction of the quaternity of singing voice, mind, brain, and imagination.
More, however, than a chant-induced collective synesthesia was promised.
He was saying that the laws of acoustics and low amperage bio-electrical phenomena could be manipulated
to give the experimenter a doorway into exploring states of matter and realms of physics of high energy
and low temperature that are currently, at least, supposed to be the exclusive province of researchers,
totally dependent on extremely technically sophisticated and powerful instruments.
It became possible for a moment to dream that the powers of shamanism derived from a millennium-old
knowledge of micro-physics and bio-electronics that was actually far in advance of our own.
Perhaps the shamanic traditions of this planet are the keepers of a path of understanding that uses the
human body-brain-mind as its cutting edge and which leaves the present state of the art which our own
scientific method has achieved a very poor second. This is really an old idea, the siren song of Pythagoras,
that the mind is more powerful than any imaginable particle accelerator, more sensitive than the most
powerful radio or optical telescope, more powerful in its grasp of information than any computer,
that the human body, its organs, its voice, its power of locomotion and its imagination is a more than
sufficient means to the exploration of any place, time or energy level in the universe.
It was this idea that he would set out to prove, to realize in the actual hardware of this
dimension a roving lenticular vehicle which he was convinced could be generated out of his own
body DNA and things present at hand in the Amazonian environment, the mushroom and the ayahuasca.
All pulled roots and stacked them in the sun. It seemed the most satisfying activity imaginable.
Nothing could have seemed more right. That evening we made a tape of our intentions, but unfortunately our
tape recorder was not in good working order and that tape has proven impossible to salvage. It is a loss to
be regretted since the emotional content of what we were experiencing would come across most clearly from our
own words. The taping session ranged over a number of themes. Hypercarbillation, for such we had named the
process of altering the neural DNA and changing a human being into an eternal hyperdimensional being.
Hypercarbillation, for such we had named the process of altering the neural DNA and changing humanity into an
eternal hyperdimensional being. Hypercarbillation, for such we had named the process of altering the neural DNA
and changing humanity into an eternal hyperdimensional being. Hypercarbillation, for such we had named the process of altering the neural DNA and
and changing man into an eternal, hyperdimensional being.
There was a process that we imagined associated with sexual generation.
We spoke of it as the birth of an idea in a sense whose literalness is not easy to convey to minds
that have not brushed with schizophrenia.
We hoped that mind, driven by will to the good, could enter into the process of generation
and guide it toward the production of the imagination-modulated resurrection body
so dear to Origen and modern UFO enthusiasts.
The dead.
We believe that hypercarbulation was to be the shamanic defeat of death,
that those doorways the dead enter through daily were finally to be thrown open to a hypercarbulated humanity
that would then have freedom of movement to and from an eternity in which the species was a living reality.
The presence of our dead mother, or Carl Jung, Newton and Bruno, Pythagoras and Heraclitus,
was an overwhelming and all-inclusive intuition that we shared and could not ignore.
There seemed to be an ideological lineage whose task was the shattering of the historical continuum
through the generation of the living lapis of hypercarbulated humanity.
All these visionary thinkers had worked on their part of this project.
Now, as the secret work of human history, the generation of Adam's cosmic body lost since paradise,
neared completion, these shades stirred and pressed near to our Amazonian campsite
as we became the human atoms critical to the inception of the transformation of man into a galaxy-roving bodhisattva,
the culmination and quintessence of the highest aspirations of spawning, star-covering humanity.
The psychologists will recognize this as a description of messianic ego-inflation.
Such it is, that we felt these things as anyone would feel them
if they truly believed themselves to be in the position that we believed ourselves to be in.
We wondered, why? Why us?
To such questions, the mushroom spoke in my mind without hesitation.
Because you have diligently sought the good, and because you trusted no human being more than yourself.
The emotional impact of these sorts of exchanges was intense beyond anything I have ever experienced.
I felt humbly grateful to the point of tears. I felt exalted.
We wanted to salvage paradise for humanity, and we thanked all gods and nature that our eccentric quest,
out of all the lives and paths being lived on the earth, was placed by fate to be so near the cutting edge.
Where the elder shamanism had failed, we would succeed.
The rescue of the timeless pearl of human immortality from the well of death would,
through the act of hypercarbulation, become a living reality for every person who had ever lived.
All the pain and suffering and war and desperation would somehow be replayed and made right
through the intercession of the mystery of higher dimensions and backward flowing time.
The wave of understanding that had been gaining since the 27th of January was now about to crest.
The wave was so strong as to be nearly visible in everything around us.
The lenticular shape of the approaching lapis seemed to be everywhere that I looked.
Every shape and form around me was pregnant with its unearthly, opalescent depths.
Before our small party of fellow explorers, Dennis and I wept and exalted,
addressing the living and the dead with equal candor,
saying things that should have been said years before,
and things that could not have even been imagined only hours before.
We knew that we were behaving bizarrely and were highly emotional,
but the intensifying wave of understanding that had gathered itself around us explained all of this.
It was, we were assured and assured each other,
because ahead of us in time the experimental attempt at hypercarbulation had already succeeded.
So many lines of probable fate were sweeping toward the staggering moment of culmination
that its inevitability was already sending shock waves and distorted images of the millennium crashing backwards through time.
Dennis recently reminded me that I assured all present that so inevitable had our experiment become
that if we did not tend the fire and brew the Yah-He, then these things would be done by themselves.
Dry wood rustling out of the forest, gathering itself into the ring of fire stones and thereto burst into flames.
The Yah-He spontaneously shredding and immersing itself in the waiting pot of water.
At the time, this was an easy extrapolation from the hurricane of shamanic gnosis and synchronistic coincidences
that was both confirming our success to chem and at the same time distorting the very ontological basis of our reality
as the inevitable choro of time and necessity narrowed around us
and the black hole of the hypercarbulation attempt strengthened its grip on us
and drew us with ever-increasing inevitability toward the singularity in time
where an unimaginable transformation awaited all on our planet.
A transformation so beyond rational understanding that its scattered and distorted reflections were mysteries
in the keeping of reason-flaunting religions that have haunted human thinking since the dimmest beginning.
The next day, the 4th of March, dawned hot and clear.
After we made breakfast, we did not tear down our fire as would have normally been the case.
Instead, we began to brew the carefully shredded Banisteriopsis capi wood and several gallons of spring water.
The fire made from the gnarled and now sun-baked roots burned furiously.
The pot responded with an even rolling boil that is the correct condition for making the drug.
All afternoon long we cooked and said little.
Dave and Vanessa were to join us for a light meal early in the evening
and then they had agreed to withdraw from the group and allow the Yahe taking and the experimental test of hypercarbulation to go on without them.
I am sure that Dennis' mind, far more than my own, was preoccupied with the details of the test.
During the days preceding, he had been often irritable, and this I took to be a part of the spectrum of effects accompanying whatever odd sort of mental unfoldment he was going through.
While he was thus occupied with interior issues and vistas, I was the hawk-eyed guardian of the shamanic fires and procedures.
There recently had been much discussion of fire and the role it must have played in forming the mental world of human beings.
Once, as we sat staring into the campfire, Dennis had remarked to me that
people have been looking into fires like this for thousands and thousands of years.
The squeal of these coals is the release of ionized plasma,
and into the flickering walls of waves of free electrons thus created,
one can see into the past and the future.
The fire is the place where the ideas come from.
I was silent.
I felt our ancestors then, seemingly present on the other side of the interface represented by the flame.
What is happening to us?
I asked it myself again, but said nothing, silence seeming more eloquent.
Dennis wrote furiously part of the day as follows.
March 4th
It is now possible to reconstruct the physical chemical idea that has evolved in the process of understanding this phenomenon,
i.e., the 4th dimensional rotation of matter.
I understand from examining the linguistic model we have constructed that the waveform ESR,
interference that will accompany the work, operates in a somewhat different manner than I had thought.
It can be explained thus.
The psilocybin that occurs in the mushroom acts as an antenna for picking up and amplifying the harmonic ESR tones
of all tryptophan-derived compounds of all living organisms within its range.
Since the psilocybin undergoing metabolism is superconductive,
this means that its range of reception is theoretically infinite,
and the antenna does, to some degree, pick up a signal whose ultimate origin is the totality of living creatures.
But since the psilocybin metabolism is carried on within the brain and mushroom at a very low voltage level,
the antenna behaves as though its range was limited, even though it is superconductive.
It seems clear, therefore, that the signal, which on the mushroom and in this ecologically dense area can be discerned so clearly,
originates in the ESR resonation of the Yah-He plant,
though perhaps all of the biosphere is picked up and broadcast amplified via the Yah-He superconductive transducer.
This understanding will clarify precisely what will occur at the moment of fourth dimensional warp.
Ingesting the Yah-He harmony will speed up the process of metabolism enough to amplify its ESR tone to an audible level.
This ESR tone will harmonically cancel out the ESR tone of the psilocybin within the mushroom, causing it to lose its electric field and snap into a superconducting configuration.
The Yah-He ESR signal will have keyed the mushroom psilocybin into a superconducting antenna.
It is then ready to have the psilocybin-harmine DNA compound being metabolized within the body, condensed onto its charge template.
A microsecond after the mushroom psilocybin has been superconductively charged, its amplified ESR wave will then cancel out the ESR signals of the tryptamines and harmine metabolizing in the body, as well as the genetic material.
This will cause these compounds to drop into a superconductive configuration and bond together at the exact same time that they bond to the weighting mushroom template.
The transfer of superconductive compounds charged within the body to a superconductive template prepared within the mushroom will not occur in three dimensional space.
No actual physical transfer will be visible, as the organically processed superconductive material will bond itself to the mushroom template through a higher spatial dimension.
The result will be the work of works, that wonder which cannot be told, four dimensions captured and delineated in three.
The stone will be all things, but the elements which are bound together in hyperspace to form it are among the most common natural products, and the function and place of each in the stone can be understood.
The stone is a solid state hyperdimensional circuit that is quadripartite in structure.
First, psilocybin, charged in the mushroom to act as a template on which the rest of the circuit is condensed.
In the final stone, the psilocybin acts as a superconducting antenna to pick up on information diffused through space and time.
Second, the superconductively charged harming complex within the stone will act as its transmitter and energy source.
It is interesting to note that the same energy that sustains the antenna circuits in superconductivity will sustain the whole of the device.
The third component of the stone is the DNA bonded to and resonating through the harming.
It will constitute the hyperdimensional holographic memory of the device and will contain and explicate the genetic history of all species.
It will be the collective memory of the device and all times and places and conceivable forms will be accessible within its matrix.
The fourth part of the circuit will be the RNA, which will also be superconductively charged.
Through its function of self-replication turned through hyperspace, the RNA will be able to project a waveform, three-dimensional holographic image,
and thus it will give form instantly to any idea.
It will perform the same function it has always had, the process of replication through time,
but henceforth replication will be subject in part to the whim of consciousness.
Why I and my companions have been selected to understand and trigger the gestalt wave of understanding that will be the unleashing of the hyperspatial zeitgeist is becoming more clear to me each moment.
Though I know I won't understand our mission fully until the work is complete.
We will be instructed in the use of the stone by some infinitely wise, infinitely adept fellow member of the hyperspatial community.
Of that I feel sure it will be the taking of the keys to galactarian citizenship.
I speculate that we will be the first five human beings to be instructed in its use.
Our mission will be to selectively disseminate it to the rest of humanity, but slowly and in such a way as to ease the culture shock.
It is also somehow appropriate that at least some segments of the species have an intimation of the implications and impossibilities of this, the last cultural artifact.
And so now, against all probabilities and chance and circumstance, my companions and I have been given the peculiar privilege of knowing history will end.
It would be a strange position to find oneself in if being in that position did not bring with it a full understanding of what forces it was that brought one there.
Fortunately, as the phenomenon is an acceleration of understanding, one gains clearer insight into the forces that have been space and time and thought and culture back upon themselves to focus them at this point.
As I look back upon my life that has spread before the scan of memory and understand all those moments that foreshadowed this one, it is easy to look beyond the personal history to the events of history and discerning the prefiguration of this last moment.
As a phenomenon, it has always existed and it will continue for it is the moving edge of the normal understanding that was generated in the era before physics and has gathered momentum, a constant acceleration ever since.
What we are moving toward in three dimensions, what we are moving toward in three dimensions is the passing of this wave of understanding into a higher dimension, the realm of the atemporal.
As it happens, it will make this transition through one of us.
But there will be no change in this cosmic order or even a blip on the cosmic circuits, for the phenomenon has gathered constant momentum from the beginning and it will flow through and beyond all dimensions with the same smoothness it entered until finally it has moved through all being in all dimensions.
Its joy will then be complete when in a vast amount of time it is constellated full understanding throughout creation.
If we trigger the eschatology, we will appear to act in the role of the Antichrist, but the real Antichrist is history's distorted reflection of the Christ at the end of time, the cosmic Adamantropos.
The eschatological Christ is Antichrist only from an historical perspective.
It is interesting that among the Mazzatecans the idea of Christ is linked to the mushroom.
Is this syncretism or prophecy?
That evening's collective meal with Dave and Vanessa at our camp with the Yahé infusion cooling in the background was less than successful,
for by now positions relative to the phenomenon had polarized into irreconcilability.
They arrived near the close of day and joined us in the hut for a smoke.
Discussion led to an update and rehash of the experiment proposed for the evening.
Dennis spoke.
We will obtain a metabolizing living mushroom, dig up the shit around it and physically move the whole thing to the hut.
We want to do the bonding in the mushroom because we don't know what it would be like if it were done in our own bodies.
It's wide open.
With your voice, your mind and a mushroom, these things can be done.
That is all one needs.
Accelerators, all of that?
No.
With the energy that is hundreds of times less than the energy in an ordinary flashlight battery, one can probably rend space-time apart.
The air was heavy with charged ions.
Dave was full of doubt.
As he talked, there was the grumble of distant thunder far off over the jungle.
Dave's objections to what we were doing were emotional and fearful.
Hardly what we expected from a colleague.
We tried to be reassuring that he became agitated and rushed out of the hut.
Perhaps, we thought, intending to walk back to the river house.
Instead, we heard an explanation of fear and a kind of moan, a yell for us.
We all clambered out of the hut to find Dave, white-faced and staring at the sky, pointing.
The light of a first quarter moon revealed the tattered sky, and directly above the path, returning to the river, was an enormous black thunderhead, rearing its twisting and writhing form up through thousands of feet of moisture and electricity-saturated air.
It looked like an enormous whirlwind, with broad strokes of lightning flickering out of its lower portions, touching the tops of the jungle canopy, with a roar that was as deafening as field artillery when it broke over us.
Over the roar of the wind that was now whipping the jungle all around us into a wild frenzy, I heard Dennis yell,
It's a reflection of the approaching breakthrough. It says to me there is now no doubt will succeed.
From Dave a moan as he sank unbelieving to the sandy soil as the first huge drops began to fall, I thought of King Lear.
In the wake of an ear-splitting blast, we all fell back to the hut. In a few minutes the giant storm moved on, leaving only a chaotic and churning sunset.
The sudden electrical storm and its impact on us was taken as an omen by all points of view.
We assumed it was associated with a feedback of effects from the experiment, whose performance was now only a few hours ahead of us.
Dave and Vanessa thought it a light dose of the wrath of God for having such Promethean aspirations.
In returning to the hut to escape the onset of the storm, Vanessa had sprained her ankle by slipping from the notched log that served as the stepladder into the hut.
Is this the healing of my split tea that my astrologer foretold for this time? Scorpio Vanessa asked of no one in particular.
Dennis ate nothing. Ev and I shared a light meal with our guests.
They wished us good night and good luck, and hobbled away toward the river.
The three of us were then left alone, and there remained nothing for it but to make the test that Dennis had devised and whose anticipation had caused so much strain on our expedition.
The yahe had been brewed. Through having seen ayahuasca brewed professionally by shamans in Peru since,
I am sure that our brew was too weak to have had any major role in what happened.
It was the mushroom that was the causal agent, if a causal agent could in fact be isolated.
And mushrooms we had, both picked ones as well as specimens, moved into the hut in situ in their manure bases.
Living, metabolizing psilocybin and psilocybin should be present, we thought.
We had hung the chrysalis butterfly near the mushroom so that animal tissue undergoing metamorphosis should also be represented in the target area tableau.
What was science and what ritual? We did not know and could not tell. They had become fused.
Chapter 11. The Experiment at La Charrera
The night was absolutely black. A low-lying cloud bank had appeared, muffling the small world of La Charrera and wrapping it in a bowl of all-absorbing velvet darkness.
Following the storm, we had rebuilt our fire and had driven off several liters of water from our infusion of Banisteriopsis.
And that's entirely just about the home of LA.
For me, I would have fabricated this weekend.
And I would have fabricated it.
Read the images of the world of Vega and the fulfill2019.
For me, I am also got a prematurely old Löwe of Luchaketa.
For me, I am a closed-closure agent.
I would have used a wonderful pickup Useful Sargent.
For me, I will be sure I am going to call the steryopsis.
I am very close.
I am speaking to thecrates Pyschristian.
So, the Technician, I always thought I did,
that's my heartbreak today.
During the Fourth, I would like to call the steryopsis.
I am really close.
I am maybe near the 23rd, but I am and care.
capi, so it was much strengthened over what it had been before. We then added crushed leaves that
Dennis had gathered that day near the choro and which we were using as DMT admixture plants.
We did this because we had tentatively identified these plants as Justicia pectoralis variety
stenophylla, a plant commonly used as an admixture of Yahweh in the Valpace drainage. Now, years after
that evening, I questioned both the concentration at which we brewed the Banisteriopsis and our
identification of the admixture plant. There is no doubt that there was considerable Harmine
alkaloid in the infusion, but not so much as I later learned was necessary to provoke an
unambiguous intoxication. The Harmine alkaloids present were, in my opinion, boosted by the
psilocybin accumulated in our systems, or rather, the MAO-inhibiting effect of the beta-carbolines
caused the residual psilocybin to emerge into consciousness as a deep hallucinogenic experience.
While I completed the boiling, Ev and Dennis went to their hammocks and lay down to await
the completion of the preparations. We laughed together and talked softly. Yet in spite of
this, there was an undercurrent of tension as we approached the experiment into which
so much of our energy had been poured. It was very critical. They were becoming very clumsy
and seemed to find their bodies hard to handle. It was that which had sent them to their hammocks.
I said that I would do whatever needed attention. Our little hut on its stilts looked in the flickering
firelight, like a small spaceship dropped into the howling jungles of an alien world.
We all felt like we were approaching hyperspatial overdrive. There was a sense of immense energies
accumulating. The effect was reinforced by the hammocks, hanging like acceleration slings,
ready to receive a starship's crew. Dennis lay in his hammock, nearly unable to hold a pencil,
but writing furiously in tight operational terms about the experiment just ahead.
The mushroom is present in metabolizing within our bodies. This has keyed in on the tryptamine
template in the living mushroom, and it has been sensitized for the condensation of the
harmine psilocybin DNA molecule. When the yahe is ingested, the harmine analog will start to metabolize
within the body. The ESR of the pre-sensitized psilocybin circuit will immediately cancel the ESR of the harmine
and cause it to bond superconductively to the DNA-RNA complex both in our bodies and in the mushrooms simultaneously
in a higher dimension. The bonding completed, the harmine DNA memory bank and drive unit will condense
into the waiting charred psilocybin circuit in the mushroom. We will see this condensation as it will appear in the mushroom
at the same instant that the bond is completed in a higher dimension.
Dennis explained that he was unable to move very well because something having to do with the backward flow of time
and the ever-increasing constraints on the set of possible futures had rendered him nearly immobile.
Only the mind, planning and computing, was free. I finished boiling the yahe. I ground the admixture plants
and added them to the cooling brew. I moved the yahe into the hut, then the mushroom, those things in place
we were ready to begin. Prior to this point we had taken no hallucinogens for several days. The effects we were experiencing
were not arising from that source. Something else was happening.
Dennis was now narrating our countdown toward an omega point that none of us could really understand.
We were completely transformed with the expectation that possibly we would witness the outbreak of the millennium.
He said that time was appearing to slow down as we approached this point. As proof or rather witness to this amazing assertion,
he called our attention to the candle that I had set upon a small shelf jutting from the wall of the hut.
Unattended, its slight tilt had become slowly exaggerated, so that now it hung at a crazy angle, defying gravity because, he said,
time was passing so slowly that we could not see that it was actually in the act of falling.
I walked closer to this apparition and bent toward the flame. It appeared still, absolutely frozen. My mind shot back to the moment above the river
when it too had seemed stilled forever. The flame was uncanny. As deeply as I cared to look into it, I could see no movement of particles or gas.
We, or I, seem to have my usual freedom of movement, but the world around me was coming to a crystalline and eerie halt.
It was Dennis who finally spoke. A series of quantized energy levels have to be broken through in order to bond this thing.
It is part mythology, part psychology, part applied physics. Who knows?
We will make three attempts before we break out of the experimental mode.
We all drank the Yahweh, sending it churning through our guts.
Dennis took only one mushroom so that he could hear the tone. Darkness was utter and we had no clocks.
It seemed hours since Dave and Vanessa had left us. All was finally in readiness.
The living mushroom. The harming brew. The harming smoking mixture.
After we each had taken a half a cup of the Yahweh infusion, we settled down to wait.
Dennis had been hearing the ESR tone that he deemed the sine qua non of what we were attempting for the past several days.
After about 15 minutes, he announced that he could hear it more clearly and that it was gaining strength.
He felt prepared to attempt the experiment at any time, he said.
We agreed that each time during the actual making of the sound, we would extinguish the candle so that we would not have our minds burdened with any tryptamine-induced facial distortions that the odd yelling might cause.
Years before there had been episodes involving DMT and spasms of facial musculature that were fairly hair-raising for the observer, involving as they did the entities of Tantric Buddhism, the bulging eyes, the rolling and possibly long tongues, that sort of thing.
Dennis rose up in his hammock then. The candle went out and he sounded his first howl of hypercarvelation.
It was mechanical and loud like a bull-roar who spasmed the candle only long enough to determine that everyone wanted to continue and agreed that Dennis' next attempt should be made from a sitting position on the floor of the hut.
This was done. Again, a long, whirring yodel, strange and unexpectedly mechanical each time it was sounded.
I suggested a break before the third attempt, but Dennis was quite agitated and eager to bring it through, as he put it.
We settled in for the third yell and when it came it was like the others but lasted much longer and became much louder.
It was like an electric siren wailing atomic attack over the still-night jungle.
The transition from one world to another, the silence of the Gidniago Gap, the sound of the crowing of a cock, the cock at the mission.
Three times his call came, clear but from afar, seeming to confirm us as actors on a stage, part of a dramatic contrivance.
Dennis had said that if the experiment were successful, the mushroom would be obliterated, the low temperature phenomena would explode the cellular material,
and what would be left would be a standing wave, a violet ring of light the size of the mushroom cap.
That would be the holding mode of the lens, or whatever it was.
Then someone would take command of it, whose DNA it is, they are it.
It is a mind which can be seen and held in one's hand.
It is indestructible.
It is all space and time.
The universe, but a monad, a monadic plasma, which contains all space and time, including one's own mind.
Dennis leaned toward the mushroom standing on the raised experiment area.
Look!
As I followed his gaze, he raised his arm, and across the fully expanded cap of the mushroom fell the shadow of his ruana.
Clearly, but only for a moment, as the shadow bisected the glowing carp before, I saw, not a mature mushroom, but a planet, the earth, lustrous and live, blue and tan and dazzling white.
It is our world.
His voice was full of unfathomable emotion.
I could only nod.
I did not understand, but I saw it clearly, although my vision was only a thing of a moment.
We have succeeded.
I don't understand.
And I did not.
Let's walk to the pasture.
I need to think.
Ev was exhausted by the night's activities and probably glad to have us leave her in the hut with the encroaching dawn promising some sort of new day.
As we let ourselves down the log ladder to the ground, I was struck by the scene of utter confusion that our activities had left behind during the last frantic hours of brewing the night before.
Our huge fire was now only white ashes.
The waste from the ahay-making was piled beside it, looking like a mound of beached seaweed.
Everything seemed strewn about.
This we walked through, shaking the stiffness out of our bodies and stopping at the small stream that crossed the path to splash water in our faces.
We had not spoken.
It was Dennis who broke the silence.
You are wondering if we succeeded.
Yes.
What happened?
Your writing heard on this effect.
So what's going on?
Well, I'm not sure how, but I know we have succeeded.
Let me try to understand this.
As we walked on, my own mind was racing with questions.
And as we walked along, Dennis' occasional comments were, it burst over me, answers to questions that I was thinking but not articulating.
I stopped in my tracks.
I clearly formed a question in my mind.
Dennis, head bent beside me, began to answer without waiting for me to articulate my thought aloud.
I was dumbfounded.
Was this it then, I asked, that he had somehow acquired telepathic powers?
No.
There was more to it than that.
According to Dennis, the bonding of the Harmin into his DNA had given him immediate access to an enormous cybernetically stored fund of information.
And this information was freely available to anyone in the world who looked into their mind and prefaced their question with the word, Dennis?
The absurdity of the second half of this proposition struck me as utterly too much.
But naturally, at his insistence, I made the test.
I picked up a small plant growing at my feet and closed my eyes and asked,
Dennis, what is the name of this plant?
Immediately and without any effort of my own that I was aware of, a scientific name, now forgotten, popped into my head.
I tried the same thing again with a different plant and to my amazement received a different answer.
The experiment seemed to secure that something was giving answers in my head, but I could not tell if they were correct or not.
I was shaken.
When we had left the hut on this walk, I was sure that we had failed and that we had to talk over, revising our approach.
I even felt relief since the obsessive nature of it all had been a strain.
But now, as we walked along, and I could hear a voice in my head that was answering, however inanely or inaccurately any question put to it, I was less sure.
Dennis was oddly preoccupied, yet he assured me that his effort had succeeded and that all over the world the wave of hypercarbillation was sweeping through the human race,
eliminating the distinction between the individual and the community as everyone discovered themselves spontaneously pushing off into a telepathic ocean whose name was that of its discoverer, Dennis McKenna.
As I watched my mind and listened to my brother rave, I began to realize that the experiment had indeed unleashed some sort of bizarre effect.
Why it was that I was able to make the leap from assuming that we were having a peculiar, localized experience,
to the idea that we were key parts of a mankind-wide phenomena, is an important unanswered question,
speaking volumes about my susceptibility to suggestion at that moment.
I was quite simply the victim of a cognitive hallucination, that is, rather than a visual experience of something not actually present,
a hallucination that is a total shift of the highest levels of our cognitive relationship to the world.
The psilocybin-induced cognitive hallucination made the impossible and unlikely seem probable and reasonable.
I was becoming flooded with ecstasy as the realization came over me that we had passed the omega point,
and that we were now operating in the first few moments of the millennium.
Both of us could feel the excitement in us rising toward the realization that the world was now somehow radically different,
totally different, in a fundamental way.
Dennis spoke.
So, this must be it. We have not condensed the stone into visible space, but we have generated it in our heads.
It does not immediately appear as a visible vehicle, but first as a teaching, the teaching we hear in our heads right now, later.
The word will be made flesh.
I could only stare at my brother.
Who is he, and how is he able to know and do these things?
I could only wonder.
Now, Mother, and possibly lots of dead people will be showing up soon.
Young, he will doubtless come, and Einstein too, and by God, I want to hear what they have to say.
We were embracing each other and laughing.
I felt as though I was being led like a little child.
For no reason, I had ceased to question.
Rather, I felt an urge to see other people and feel their immersion in the new heaven and the new earth.
As I set out toward the river, I seemed to myself to be nearly weightless.
I felt reborn.
I felt full of energy and bursting of good health and vitality.
Over a period of a few minutes, I had passed from weary, disgruntled skeptic to ecstatic believer.
Looking back on it, I believe that for me this was the critical juncture.
Why did I not question Dennis more closely?
Was I somehow self-hypnotized?
Did the unfamiliar setting, the restricted diet, strain, and expectations push me into a place where I was unable to resist participation of a sort in the world of my brother's bizarre ideation?
Why was I unable to maintain my detached and skeptical viewpoint?
In some sense, this willing suspension of disbelief is the crux of the matter and, I believe, of many a close encounter situation.
The other plays with us and approaches us through the imagination and then a critical juncture is reached.
To go beyond this juncture requires abandonment of will and habit.
At that moment, the world turns lazily inside out and what was hidden is revealed.
A magical modality, a different epigenetic landscape than one has known.
A landscape become real.
The UFO is a creature of this previously invisible landscape.
It is lord of the skies of the imagination, able to carry anyone with it who will but play, and then let the play deepen and deepen.
To be continued.