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Posts tagged “thought

Ayahuasca and the Return of the Hero

“A prophet is not without honor except in his own country. . .”
Mark 6:4

An observation about reintegration and sharing one’s non-ordinary experiences for good or for ill.

VISIONARY UNIVERSE

Anyone who has worked authentically with Ayahuasca, gaining sight and knowledge, healing and wisdom, is partaking in the mythic Hero’s Journey. He or she is a legitimate explorer–one who travels to dangerous places, passing barrier guardians, personally encountering the divine Spirit or Spirits, and willingly undergoing tests and challenges that are often terrifying and that threaten survival. When the exploration ends, we who have so ventured return to our mundane world once again, full and overflowing with what has been taken in and we are electrically charged with it. It is a boon for ourselves (this is why we took on the challenge). We wish it to be one for our friends, our family, our tribe: those who did not and would not ever cross the border we crossed; those who would or could not face the challenges and return with the great wealth.

SQ-RioMeandersOne of the most challenging parts of the Hero’s Journey then, is the return: the reintegration into the “normal” everyday world and trying to fulfill our role as conveyors of the treasures we found and the discoveries we made during our dangerous endeavor. It does not always work, this re-entry into our old world and it can redound to our discomfiture in our relationships with others. Joseph Campbell put it this way:

“[Prior to the Hero’s return from] the mystic realm into the land of common day. Whether rescued from without, driven from within, or gently carried along by the guiding divinities, he has yet to re-enter with his boon the long-forgotten atmosphere where men who are fractions imagine themselves to be complete. He has yet to confront society with his ego-shattering, life-redeeming elixir, and take the return blow of reasonable queries, hard resentment, and good people at a loss to comprehend. . . .

. . . As dreams that were momentous by night may seem simply silly in the light of day, so the poet and prophet can discover themselves playing the idiot before a jury of sober eyes.

. . . How to render back into light-world language the speech-defying pronouncements of the dark? How represent on a two-dimensional surface a three-dimensional form, or in a three-dimensional image a multi-dimensional meaning? How translate into terms of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ revelations that shatter into meaninglessness every attempt to define the pairs of opposites? How communicate to people who insist on the exclusive evidence of their senses the message of the all-generating void?”

This, Campbell says, is “the hero’s ultimate difficult task.”
–Joseph Campbell “The Hero with a Thousand Faces” (New Jersey, Princeton University Press, 1949–Second Edition, 1968), pp 216-218.

SQ-OldCanoeAfter my first, most powerful and transformative foray into the realms of the Other, I naively presented my journey’s logs and observations to those who are close to me. The reaction was something like that one described by Campbell–the semantic and ontological challenges the very same as he outlined. Sometimes, I wonder if I should have done it, for he also wrote of the hero who might be tempted to “commit the whole community to the devil and retire again into the heavenly rock-dwelling, close the door, and make it fast. But if (an obstruction to his retreat has been placed), then the work of representing eternity in time, and perceiving in time eternity, cannot be avoided.”
[ibid, p. 218]

And, so I continue to share what I have experienced. I do so in diverse ways, including (especially) in this blog.

 

 

SQ-Cloudscape4

 

 

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A Tribal Shaman’s View of Us

I believe it is a valuable exercise and privilege to be allowed to see ourselves from a completely different perspective – one from the “outside.” For Westerners, our civilization and culture dominates our worldview so thoroughly that it is difficult to find such an “exterior” assessment of our own ways. Here is one – one that is authentic. This article from The Guardian features some of the observations of Davi Kopenawa Yanomami, one of the most influential tribal leaders in Brazil and an Amazonian shaman. As article author John Vidal says,

“In the past 25 years, he has travelled widely to represent indigenous peoples in meetings and, having lived in both societies, he has a unique viewpoint of western culture. With the help of an anthropologist, Bruce Albert, who interviewed him over several years, he has written his autobiography. It is not just an insight into what a Yanomami leader really thinks, but a devastating critique of how the west lives, showing the gulf between primordial forest and modern city world views.”

DaviKopenawaYanomami

http://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2014/dec/30/western-living-yanomami-shaman-brazil

A few choice excerpts from that autobiography (from the article):

On western wealth –

“Their cities are full of big houses and innumerable possessions but their elders never give them to anyone. If they were really great men, should they not tell themselves that it would be wise to distribute them all before they make so many more?”

On shopping –

Their thoughts are constantly attached to their merchandise. . . .They do not seem concerned that they are making us all perish with the epidemic of fumes that escape from all these things. They do not think that they are spoiling the earth and the sky, and that they will never be able to recreate new ones.

On western cities –

Their cities are beautiful to see, but the bustle of their inhabitants is frightening. People there live piled up one on top of another and squeezed side by side, as frenzied as wasps in the nest. . . . I can never think calmly in the city. . . .Whenever I stay there too long I become restless and cannot dream.

On the environment –

When they speak about the forest, white people often use the word “environment”. What they refer to in this way is what remains of everything they have destroyed so far. I don’t like this word. The Earth cannot be split apart as if the forest were just a leftover part.

 

To my thinking, agreement or disagreement with this shaman’s specific views would be beside the point. What is important is listening to him and others like him – finding perspective and truth in the refreshingly honest view of ourselves and our culture spoken by those who live in another, nature-based society. Especially so, as their worlds are being so impacted by ours, whether they wish it or not.

The autobiography is:

“The Falling Sky: Words of a Yanomami Shaman” by Davi Kopenawa and
Bruce Albert, published by Harvard University Press.

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Consciousness Theory, Shamanism, and Ontology

I just came across this interesting article on the brain’s structure and the nature of consciousness that was published by Wired last year:

A Neuroscientist’s Radical Theory of How Networks Become Conscious
BY BRANDON KEIM

Wired-Networks-Conscious

For the last 15 years, I’ve been exploring consciousness from a deeply shamanistic perspective with my main purpose to attempt to determine the borders of ontology. This is a quest to determine what is actual and real as opposed to creative fiction. Humans are very good at creative fiction and many idea structures, especially religious ones, are fully and totally believed by many, as if they are real even though they cannot be shown to be ontologically “real.” I – my own consciousness – was subsumed into a fully Christian belief system for the first 46 years of my life. Others have been and still are fully subsumed into that and other, incompatible belief systems. In order to try to get a more reliable view or a better understanding of that border between what exists outside of human interpretation and what is caused by human invention, I have been led to work with some of the great “visionary plant medicines” of the world that seem to transport us into other realms and give us a perspective on our normal, mundane perceptions.

Working extensively with ayahuasca has opened me up to a frontier of exploration into a state that is beyond our everyday perceptions and it may represent a valid window or portal into another dimension of reality. Just as physical tools like microscopes and telescopes have, for the purposes of knowledge acquisition as well as of beauty and wonder, given us a view into worlds vastly smaller and larger than we can personally otherwise “visit,” these substances might be giving us an extremely useful view that we cannot normally access.

The question of ontology is not easily resolved, however, and that is due to our lack of understanding about the nature of consciousness itself, and how the brain functions in that regard. Much has been written and speculated about this, of course, and no one has the answer, but new ideas are emerging. This article is from a neuroscientist, Christof Koch, chief scientific officer at the Allen Institute for Brain Science, and is from a basically reductionist viewpoint (although he delightfully calls himself a “romantic reductionist”): that any and all systems that are complex enough in the right ways, can be considered to be conscious. Here are a couple of excerpts:

———-

Koch: “It’s not that any physical system has consciousness. A black hole, a heap of sand, a bunch of isolated neurons in a dish, they’re not integrated. They have no consciousness. But complex systems do. And how much consciousness they have depends on how many connections they have and how they’re wired up.”

———-

WIRED: “I still can’t shake the feeling that consciousness arising through integrated information is — arbitrary, somehow. Like an assertion of faith.”

Koch: “If you think about any explanation of anything, how far back does it go? We’re confronted with this in physics. Take quantum mechanics, which is the theory that provides the best description we have of the universe at microscopic scales. Quantum mechanics allows us to design MRI and other useful machines and instruments. But why should quantum mechanics hold in our universe? It seems arbitrary! Can we imagine a universe without it, a universe where Planck’s constant has a different value? Ultimately, there’s a point beyond which there’s no further regress.”

———-

WIRED: “I’ve read that you don’t kill insects if you can avoid it.”

Koch: “That’s true. They’re fellow travelers on the road, bookended by eternity on both sides.”

 

Map-Of-Internet-2005

It’s interesting to follow this article’s discussion as it traverses that narrow, fuzzy zone between empirical science and “faith.”

I am, however, attracted to this view of the physicality of consciousness. It seems more “right” because it is more holistic and scaleable. It neither arbitrarily excludes non-human systems from being capable of consciousness, nor tries to place human consciousness on some magical platform of superiority. Where such structural views or mappings of the machinery of consciousness can be limiting or “go wrong” is in stopping with the understandings we gain about the tool itself and deny or disregard the information that comes through that tool (the brain in our case). This hurdle manifests every time someone claims that consciousness altering plants or medicines are “just drugs” or cause “only hallucinations”.

As humans, some of us will certainly continue to push the frontier of knowledge in this direction, however obscure our pioneering pathways or how strongly we may be rejected or vilified in our pursuits. Perhaps soon, however, we may also witness other “self sentient” beings, such as a truly self-aware internet, come into their own consciousness – beings who will be able to assess their own experiences and develop their own data. Hopefully, we’ll be able to compare notes.

 

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On the Burning of the Libraries and Deep Time

LibraryAlexandria2

All of my life I have deeply loved books and libraries. As just a small boy, I remember how I felt when I first learned about the famous destruction of the Library of Alexandria in ancient times. What an inconceivable loss it was for humanity – setting us back perhaps a thousand years in terms of knowledge and progress. To my child’s mind, it was a horror: the unspeakable loss of all that knowledge and of the wonderful physical books themselves. It may have been the first time I felt an intense exasperation over senseless injustice caused by the actions of ignorant people – something that still manifests in the modern world.

I know now that whether human caused or the result of natural disasters, all collections of knowledge are vulnerable to eventual destruction, especially the individually curated and conserved libraries that we carry around with us through our lives: our personal knowledge and experiences, our stories, our memories, and our philosophies. Each of us contains an amazingly vast repository of these things, and the human brain is still the most complex object known to exist in the universe. As we know too well, however, we are individually subject to dangers and death, and even if we live a full life, natural death will eventually close our library forever. In a strangely real sense, every person is a Library of Alexandria, doomed to destruction.

I felt this quite personally when I was trying to record my Mother’s knowledge about a large collection of family photographs that range back into the 1800’s. Without her memories, many of these will become disassociated from their personal stories and history and flatten into what so many old photographs are: just an old, vintage photo. It saddens me to see such family images for sale in antique stores. Someone’s family heritage and history was lost. Their library “burned down” and there is no way now to recover the information. We can only look into the eyes of that long-passed person and wonder. There are thousands of such images in my family library and I wanted to preserve as much information as possible, so I began recording my Mother, who was happy to help until her health failed and we had to stop. Now, the opportunity has passed and, as much as my sisters and I may remember of it all, there is yet a large, deeper mass of information that has been lost permanently.

That is just one family and one person’s passing. How many billions of such libraries have perished? It boggles the mind to consider it and to imagine what has been lost along the way.

Writing, itself, is a human invention designed to transmit information over time and space, but it cannot contain all that might be recorded. With our modern electronic technologies, many are trying to address this issue by preserving not only books, but other forms of history and knowledge, including digital data, sound recordings, and photographs. Perhaps it will survive, but there are many who warn that our digital data is more vulnerable than the papyrus scrolls were, stacked in their racks in Alexandria. Perhaps some remote and massively secured vaults will protect some of it for a far future, but will anyone be able to make the ancient machinery work, or themselves make new machines that can access and display the data? Will future historians look upon our time as a sudden blank in history because all of our stories and information went into a technical form that cannot be retrieved? I wonder.

When we look back on ancient lands like Egypt, we should realize that 3,000 years ago is not so far back in time, really. Now, the papyri and the painted tombs are fragile and rare, deteriorating with every year that passes. What seems to stand the test of time best is the simplest and, some might think, most primitive technology: engravings into stone. In Egypt and other lands that so carved, even these records are shattered, chipped, scattered, and represent incomplete versions of their original states. It is disconcerting to realize that modern man has left comparatively little of our thoughts carved into simple stone.

So, in the end, even if that end is a far off future where our civilizations are as murky as Egypt’s or as vague and mythical as Atlantis, does it really matter? Should we be concerned, or try to make a deeper, more lasting mark that may, somehow, survive for our unknown future children? Yes, some are trying to archive and store mankind’s knowledge and they may succeed to some degree, but it is likely that most of it will be lost over vast ranges of deep time. We may, indeed, be living in a future time’s Atlantis – our reality a mythological place to those future kin. Ours a human world that may have existed in some form but can’t be proven. A dream out of Time.

In the final analysis, we cannot truly save our worlds. All is in constant motion and does not return again to the same place. Those that come later will have their own world and will not have time to relive ours, even if some of our knowledge may be useful to them, either as practical knowledge or, perhaps, as a warning of what to avoid.

These are melancholy thoughts, and for the majority of us, probably best considered once and then left behind as we pursue our own individual life paths. Perhaps, though, and at a personal scale again, we should at least think about preparing for our own Library to burn down someday and spend some of our time documenting the contents that we think our families, at least, might want to know later on.

We shall not be able to hold on to all we love, and that is just a part of how life is, but some in the future may truly desire to have even a small portion of what we know. I still wish I could have documented more of my family photographs with Mom before she was gone, and I still remember that little boy I once was and how deeply and personally hurt I felt at learning of the loss of the Library of Alexandria – something that happened some 2,000 years before I was born.

We may honor the past and future or desire them greatly, but we cannot live there. It is useful to remember that we honor and desire them in the present moment.

All that truly exists is NOW.

LibraryAlexandria1

 

 

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The Pursuit of Other Worlds

BistiPortal-border(Click image for larger view.)

 

“A creature who has once passed from visible nature into the ghostly insubstantial world evolved and projected from his own mind will never cease to pursue thereafter the worlds beyond this world.”

-Loren Eiseley, The Invisible Pyramid, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1970, p. 151.

 

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Infinite Love in a Finite Room

LunarEclipse-border

 

Stepping Outside the Shadow

In an earlier post, I spoke of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s metaphor of the stairs. It is a disturbing observation, precisely because it is the simple, honest assessment of the fundamental experience of all men and women. In his essay “Experience,” he states:

“Where do we find ourselves? In a series of which we do not know the extremes, and believe that it has none. We wake and find ourselves on a stair; there are stairs below us, which we seem to have ascended; there are stairs above us, many a one, which go upward and out of sight.”

We, each of us and collectively, wake upon these stairs from a shadow of unknowing. Furthermore, we live our lives inside a kind of cosmic prison whose bars are made of unreachable stellar distances, vast time, and the necessarily precise material nature of our fragile yet essential protective physical environment. When our encased and brief life ends, we enter a shadow of greater unknowing – greater not by essence, but by virtue of our ability to perceive and anticipate it. It leads us, we know not where.

Is this our lot, not to know, not to ever understand? Are we mere chemical accidents–embodied processes running meaninglessly on for a brief moment? If not, and if we are more than that, can that part of our nature that is beyond the reductionist machine, give us the insight we seek? Can it give us energy and something of value to accomplish? How can mankind escape his prison of shadows?

William Blake once wrote, “Imagination is the real and eternal world of which this vegetable universe is but a faint shadow.” Some say that all the apparent universe we see–all of reality–is literally created by our thoughts. That may be so, but the old stairs seem solid and unchangeable. It is unquestionable however, that we are unique beings that have the ability to create new things and new cultures from the images we conjure in our minds, images that arise out of veriest nothing. Images that have no source in the cold stairs of our cosmic prison. We have the ability and power to live another life concurrent with the merely physical, a life that constitutes a different universe and a new set of stairs created and described by our own minds and hearts.

With this ability, we can step beyond our restricting shadow-shell and use our new energies for either positive or negative ends, but we must choose our inner path with care. There are shadows here of a different kind. Carl Jung said, “Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.”

There is a balance to be obtained between the finite world of physical bodies within gross material life and the inherently infinite universe within our minds – that well of infinite possibilities that has propelled us so far as a species in so short a span of time. The Christian mystic, Thomas Traherne, put perhaps the finest focus on the matter when he wrote, “Infinite Love cannot be expressed in finite room: but must have infinite places wherein to utter and shew itself. . . . And yet, it must be expressed in a finite room. . .”

All of this is to paraphrase and restate a view expressed with eloquence by one of the last century’s finest essayists, Loren Eiseley. In The Invisible Pyramid, he writes:

“In man, moreover, consciousness looks out isolated from its own body. The body is the true cosmic prison, yet it contains, in the creative individual, a magnificent if sometimes helpless giant. John Donne, speaking for that giant in each of us said: ‘Our creatures are our thoughts, creatures that are born Gyants. . . . My thoughts reach all, comprehend all. Inexplicable mystery; I their Creator am in a close prison, in a sick bed, anywhere, and any one of my Creatures, my thoughts, is with the Sunne and beyond the Sunne, overtakes the Sunne, and overgoes the Sunne in one pace, one steppe, everywhere.’

“This thought, expressed so movingly by Donne, represents the final triumph of (the) interior microcosm in its war with the macrocosm. Inside has conquered outside. The giant confined in the body’s prison roams at will among the stars. More rarely and more beautifully, perhaps, the profound mind in the close prison projects infinite love in a finite room. This is a crossing beside which light-years are meaningless. It is the solitary key to the prison that is man.”

[Loren Eiseley, The Invisible Pyramid, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1970, pp. 48–49.]

In this way and along this path, we can choose to express our inner creations for love rather than power, even as we are trapped, contained within the narrow prison of our bodies and lost somewhere along an unexplainable stairway. This is the difference between those shamans who choose healing over sorcery. It is the open heart that brings health and joy to our shadowed life. The words of Traherne again ring true:

“This moment exhibits infinite space, but there is a space also wherein all moments are infinitely exhibited, and the everlasting duration of infinite space is another region and room of joys.”

and:
“You never enjoy the world aright, till the sea itself floweth in your veins, till you are clothed with the heavens and crowned with the stars.”

starband

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Spirit Landscape 1

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How can you prove whether at this moment we are sleeping, and all our thoughts are a dream; or whether we are awake, and talking to one another in the waking state?
– Plato

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The Stars Within

A new poem and artwork today.

It speaks of unfathomed dimension and scale in the human mind and soul.

StarsWithin-border

[click image for larger]

The Stars Within

 

Are we so small?

And yet are we many,

Oh so many, glowing here and there?

Bodies of intricate illusion,

Tiny swirls of light and bone?

Each contains a galaxy.

 

Breath and beat, independent

Engines that move us,

Just like all the others.

Fear and happiness

Shaping the face

Our mind looks out of.

 

Step within to see the trick.

Vastness. Volume –

Filled with stars.

Each the color of a memory.

Ideas cluster and flare: suns

Lighting the dark lanes.

 

Hard and cold planets, some

Massive and others minor;

Worlds of water and storms;

Orbs of unspeakable beauty,

Filled with people and stories;

Turn themselves ’round

And whirl within.

 

Some we craft with careful

Intention, spinning each one

Lovingly. Returning there,

Spending time, comforted –

Renewed by loved lands and faces.

 

Others, uncalled for,

Rush up to surprise us –

Alien visions within our domain,

We wonder who made these

Worlds we did not plan.

Our galaxy is so vast.

 

The stars within swirl right around

And sing the strands of Life.

They swirl right ’round:

An unexpected gleaming nebula

Clothed in humble membrane.

 

An unchartable symphony,

An unexpected dimension within.

A million million stars and worlds

Dance and turn about

An invisible Center,

An obscured Mystery.

 

We are many and oh so small,

And when each one is no more,

A wide galaxy, a very Universe

Transforming, winks away

Into unknown night.

–  –  –  –  –

[© David P. Crews, 2013]

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A New Vista

 

 

 

GuatemalaView-border

 


In a New Land

 

Long I have struggled in the valley, only

To look up at the end and realize with a

Sudden start,

That I have arrived at the top of a

Mountain, instead.

 

The view ahead is one of beauty

And favor. The path before me is

Enticing, promising.

More hills in view, but

The slope is gentle

And green.

 

ColoradoValleyView-border

I’m anticipating a very big change in my life, which I will describe at the right time, but this poem came to me today to speak of the way change can sometimes come unexpectedly upon us, just when it seems that all things are stuck in an old pattern and won’t ever change. Maybe that valley we’ve been struggling through is not a valley after all. Maybe we will suddenly gasp as we gaze into a new vista. Then, we must not fear. We must take action and step confidently into our new world, creating it as we go.

 

LakePeten-border

 

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Perspective

A lifetime of knowledge earned
Along the paths of wisdom,
Will one day surely seem to you
Quite meager and in vain.

Not because you have failed to learn,
But that the universe has opened up
Infinitely before you.

– David Crews

The photo is of myself at Bonneville Salt Flats in the NW corner of Utah. It had rained recently, leaving a wonderful reflective mirror for the mountains to float above.

Ah, yes, those Bonneville Salt Flats. Thought I’d set a new speed record – for how slow I could go.
🙂

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To Strive For Man

Digital Art by David P. Crews

 

“As a boy I once rolled dice in an empty house, playing against myself. I suppose I was afraid. It was twilight, and I forgot who won. I was too young to have known that the old abandoned house in which I played was the universe. I would play for man more fiercely if the years would take me back.”

– Loren Eiseley, “The Invisible Pyramid”, (New York, Charles Scribner’s Sons) 1970, 2-3.

 From one of my favorite authors and one of the great writers of the 20th century, Loren Eiseley.


On Flying

 

What golden king of ancient time

Would not envy my simple pursuit?

The span I leap in minutes,

His fleet-footed messenger could not match

In months of arduous travel.

 

 

My eye gazes down upon a wider land,

From a vantage higher than any mountain.

I eat and drink in ease, and calmly survey sights no

Emperor’s eye of old ever beheld.

 

The Envy of Birds!

The Power of Air!

I, the every day man, an ambler –

Godlike, stepping on clouds to soar above.

The ancient kings would marvel and

Desire above gold, what now I plainly do.

 

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Air travel has become such a commodity these days that I find myself in some kind of strange minority in that I am still amazed and awestruck at the fact that we can don our metal wings and actually fly. I’ll take a window seat any time I get a chance to go. While everyone else is watching a movie or sleeping, I’m gazing out that window with a bemused grin, following the landmarks and geography below or glorying in fantasy cloudscapes and trying to get my brain to realize and accept just exactly where I am up here in the sky, higher than Earth’s tallest mountain, flashing across entire continents and great oceans in my cushioned sedan chair.

It is truly an experience of power (and wealth!) that no ancient King could have imagined. What is truly Amazing, however, soon becomes mundane once it becomes a commonplace method of travel.

All too soon I must turn away from the mythic views from my plastic window and the magic carpet ride comes to its earthy end.

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Ancient Songs and Green Magic (Part V – Conclusion)

ANCIENT SONGS AND GREEN MAGIC
– A Search for What Is Real in the Amazon Jungle of Peru

By David P. Crews

Don Rober prepares.

Read Part I here

Read Part II here

Read Part III here

Read Part IV here

 PART V

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

FINAL AYAHUASCA CEREMONY

A Vision of the Spirit and Heart

Note: This longer post concludes my Ancient Songs and Green Magic series on Ayahuasca. Please read beyond the fold for the final extraordinary visions and my Five Years Later postscript.

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VISITING THE MURRAY HUITOTO TRIBE

from my trip journal:

The Amazon River

Today, we boarded the boats to travel down the Rio Momón and on to the true Rio Amazonas: the Amazon itself. We rode a short way downriver from Iquitos to take a longer jungle hike and meet the Murray Huitoto people. This tribe lives a couple of miles inland from the great river, so we landed at a rough riverfront town and hiked through the beautiful dense jungle to find them.

The tribe was happy to dance for us and invite us in to see their world. We also delivered some needed medical supplies.

Huitoto Dances

The chief was very welcoming, and although he spoke only Spanish to me, and I spoke none, we still had a very friendly conversation.

Author with Huitoto Chief

We swam in the small river here, enjoying the cool water and also the soothing mud from the banks – an exclusive facial and body treatment that would be costly in any big city salon! Rufus, don Howard’s red uakari monkey, joined us for some fresh jungle fruit and kept us laughing with his constant antics.

Rufus!

Back at the tribe’s camp, the matron of the group showed us their ayahuasca vines, planted at the base of certain trees and growing strong. As the vine is used, it is important to keep it cultivated.

Huitoto woman-cultivated Aya vine.

Huitoto Chief

Back at our lodge once more, it was time for our third and last ceremony.

THIRD AYAHUASCA CEREMONY

There is an ancient practice or technique in shamanism called “soul retrieval.” It is a healing for someone who has lost part of their spirit – their spiritual body. Perhaps they simply wandered away into a spiritual place and part of them did not return to our everyday reality. Perhaps someone stole that part of the person, or borrowed it and never returned it. Now the person is ill with a kind of emptiness or depression that cannot be cured by normal means. The shaman goes into trance state and travels off into the past or alternate realities, finds the part that is missing and invites it back. He or she recovers that spirit essence and reunites it with the ill person, making them whole and happy once more. This kind of healing is something a human shaman does, but it may not always be a human who heals.

“Anything will give up its secrets, if you only love it enough.”
– George Washington Carver

As my final opportunity to experience the tea approached, I re-evaluated my set of Intentions for it. After thinking about it, I realized I had been unconsciously self-centered in my original intentions. Instead of being completely open in my heart, I had been trying to get what I wanted while couching the request in careful language. I had been requesting, as if off a menu, to be shown the visions I desired. I wanted to see and learn what I wanted.

Magic Tea

This time, I let go. I decided to simply open myself up and let Ayahuasca take control and lead me where, perhaps, I did not know I needed to go. She certainly did that in the first session! Having confronted Fear itself and then allowed to get my bearings in session two, I felt like I was oriented enough now to trust her and not be anxious or fearful this time. My new intention was: “Open me up.  Show me Love.  Let me be love.”

The Ayahuasca tea seemed slightly more viscous tonight. Once again, I felt fortunate that the drink went down rather easily and I had no problem with it. Since this was our final ceremony, don Howard and his wife Reyna placed wonderful little bead necklaces around our necks, each with a small pendant of Ayahuasca vine. Now, we waited in the darkness once again – waited for our next inexorable leap into the true unknown.

————–

“For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure, and it amazes us so,
because it serenely disdains to destroy us.
Every angel is terrifying.”
–      Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies

As we waited for the onset of Ayahuasca space, don Rober began his icaros. Several of the other participants were inclined to join in, and then many of the tribespeople in and outside the molloca also began to sing along, with a group energy that I found myself caught up in as well. It was a wonderful antiphonal surround-sound beginning to tonight’s ceremony and it boded well for the nature of this journey.

Once more, and to my relief, I entered Ayahuasca’s dimensions easily. As my head and extremities began to hum and vibrate with the powerful electric energy of the medicine, it grew in strength, then leveled off and remained a neon body buzz throughout the session. I saw some geometric patterns and some colors, but they were muted. Visual effects are easier to describe than other more internal effects, but now I noticed a different internal feel to this space from the previous ceremonies. The vine felt strong and it was deepening into me moment to moment. After some time, I was very deep, indeed, and I drifted on into another dimension.

Without warning or sign, I realized that something was coming towards me. There was no sound. As it drew near, it looked like a train or subway vehicle, which now pulled up at my left side and came to a stop. This seemed like an obvious invitation to board, but the train was too small to enter it. I thought, though, that I could probably get on top of it and ride it the way they do rail cars in India, so I climbed up and onto the top of the second car from the front. In a twinkling, as I did so, the train changed its form – morphing into a gigantic snake. I knew it was common in Ayahuasca visions to encounter these huge Ayahuasca snakes or jaguars or other elemental animal forms. It is sometimes a challenging test, but this seemed straightforward enough. I was going to ride the Snake!

Please read the rest of Part V here.


Red Lands

.

The red wind whispers – calling me

Out to the sharp world, the cold land,

The place of polished stone, the land of keen breath,

The clean and parched country

Where the river of moments slows its crawl,

And the world runs far, far away to the

Uttermost limb of blue and brown.

The blank places beckon and chide, reaching

Long and deep to find my invented corner, to

Lift me up from my comfortable blindness,

To bring me out to my real house.

The hollow lands fill up my eyes

And the empty flank of the world

Supports my soul.

.


Any Sufficiently Advanced Technology . . .

A copy of this BigLittle Book belonged to my Dad.

Speaking of Arthur C. Clarke (last post), something else of his came to mind today as I was using my iPhone.  Clarke’s law states that “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”  It is also a fact, I think, that something of the reverse is true. I might say, “Any sufficiently advanced technology that has come into everyday use is rapidly considered mundane.”

So, here I am, holding a highly advanced and miniaturized computer in the palm of my hand. Visions of the future from not that long ago cannot match the reality of this device.

It has an extremely high resolution, full color image screen. It can access information from anywhere in the world almost instantly and connect me to anyone in the world who has even minimal technology like a telephone. I can shoot broadcast television video in HD into a digital memory chip with no moving parts. I can play stupid games on it. I can find the cheapest gas station near me and see my house from outer space.

I popped up the science news list and these actual stories were first in line today:

“Asteroid Threat to Earth Sparks Global ‘NEOShield Project”
“Alien worlds abound! NASA scope finds 26 alien planets”
“Robotic Russian Supply Ship Docks at Space Station”
“Life in ocean ‘blue holes’ studied . . .
. . . could give clues to what types of marine life might be found on distant planets and moons. . .”
“Two teens send a Lego man into near space”
“Mining the moon isn’t as easy as it sounds”
“Nuclear fusion in the future? New laser could hold the answers”

Now, wait a minute.  How did this happen without someone making a very loud announcement saying, “Hey everybody! Remember our promises of a magical, science fiction future? . . .  IT’S HERE!!”

Perhaps we would not have heard such an announcement anyway, with our earbuds in and our noses buried in a glowing crystal between our fingers.

Well, I have to go now. There’s an old Flash Gordon serial on YouTube I wanted to watch.
On my mundane hand-held science fiction computer technology device.


A Fortune of My Own Design

I often pay attention to various random systems that appear in my life’s path – systems that can operate as synchronicity tools. This can be anything from the most sophisticated of these tools, the I Ching, to something as ridiculous as a fortune cookie.

I had Chinese for lunch today, and though I really dislike eating the cookie part, I always pull out the “fortune” to see if there is any synchronicity meaning or indications I can pull from it. There rarely is, of course, but today was different.

I opened the cookie, and . . . there was no fortune inside it at all.

I began to laugh.  Mistake or message?  One can say what one may. I choose to view it as a not-so-subtle message from the wider universe.

Casteneda’s Don Juan said:

“Does this path have a heart? All paths are the same – they lead nowhere. . . If this path has a heart, the path is good; if it doesn’t, it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere, but one has a heart, the other doesn’t. One makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it. The other will make you curse your life. One makes you strong; the other weakens you.”

___________________– Carlos Casteneda, The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge

There is no fortune or misfortune that we are destined for. Of course, there is happenstance, but we choose our paths and continue to choose them every hour of every day. Is our path one of value? – of goodness? – of Heart?  If not, we have only ourselves to blame and only ourselves to call upon to alter our path to one that encompasses these values.

Misfortune?  Good fortune?  No “fortune” at all, except for what we create internally in our hearts and externally in the path we choose to walk. This is the message I take from today’s very interesting after-dinner treat.  It was, perhaps, the most revealing fortune cookie message I’ve ever received.


Time Fossils

 

At a special desert place where I go to contemplate the world and life from within a sacred circle, I found a large area of ripple rock. This is slate-like sandstone that actually has embedded or recorded in the rock surface the precise ripple patterns from when that sandstone was laid down at the bottom of a lake or shallow sea. Some natural event rapidly covered it up and locked in that exact pattern of waves caused by the water on that particular day, perhaps 60 or 70 million years ago!

Now, after being buried for all that time, it is being slowly exposed here in the parched desert, a faint echo of water from ages past. The fascinating thing about ripple rock is that the image preserved represents something relatable to a human timescale. In most geologic forms, we are looking at shapes that reflect what happened to the specimen over millions of years, but here is a rock that presents a flash-frozen moment of time, like a time fossil. I can touch this rock and feel the ripples with my hand. I can almost hear the lapping of the waves as they washed over that sand on that one day so long ago. I can relate to it.

I suppose some things human (Pompeii comes to mind) are recorded in similar fashion, but surely most of what we do will never be so preserved. How many lives and stories and wondrous events of nature have happened on this planet over the millions upon millions of years that were not so fortunate to be recorded in a stone panel by a freakish chance?

Sometimes as I watch a particularly wonderful sunset, it occurs to me that there must have been billions of such beautiful sunsets over the history of this earth that went, well, unappreciated.

I wonder if a dinosaur ever paused to look up in hazy curiosity at a red-orange sky?


I Am Earth

One of the greatest of the negative effects of the teachings and worldviews of the received religions is the idea that humankind is separate from the earth. We are taught that we are “masters” of the earth, and “live on” the earth, and we are surely not here for long, so we must not be of the earth – merely visiting. We have a manifest destiny, they say, to dominate the earth and to use it as we will.  If we should deign to care for the earth, then we are doing so as external service providers (in residence).

Many in the shamanistic nature and spirit community also tend to see us as “connecting with” the earth and sense it as a separate holistic being: a Gaia or a Pachamama – a Mother Earth. We are like children, perhaps, or stewards or guardians or even tricksters.  We are those who do not know; those who look upon the earth with wonder; those who are sometimes selfish and other times simply happy, sometimes very aware and observant of the earth yet often lost in our own sense of Self.

In almost all human philosophies, however, there is this distinct sense that we are somewhat apart from the thing we admire and that we emerged from – the earth itself.  It seems to be a distinction we attach to animals.
Rocks, water, and even plants all make up what we rightly would call “the earth.” They are earthy in nature and tend not to move about very much. Animals roam around and though associated with and coming from earth, they are not usually described as “the earth.”

It might be an interesting idea to play with then, to understand that everything that has ever manifested upon this beautiful spinning ball since it first twirled out of a dusty cloud is properly named Earth.  Every dinosaur, every volcano, every breeze through a palm frond, every bug and bunny, and every human being that has ever been are all not only of the earth, we ARE EARTH itself. We are far more than just earthlings. We are as much the planet as any stone or leaf.

Try that out for a while and see if it changes how you think of yourself.  “I am Earth.”

——–


In Goblin Valley

I placed my hand on a huge sandstone boulder, perched on an unlikely column of mud and dirt. Within its stony layer, it has been lifted up to this position over millions of years. Dinosaurs once disturbed the dirt from which it was formed. Now, it has appeared here on its pedestal, emerged out of its matrix of mud which is being dissolved away with every infrequent rain and every howling wind.

Some say you can speak to stones, so I address this one directly. “I know you are slow of time and I am quick, but can you speak to me and tell me of your story? Time is long for you and quick for me, but time is just an illusion – a quirk of space and gravity. Space and gravity are what made you and brought you to this precarious position, but surely we can set time aside so that we may speak to one another? Time is nothing, really.”

After a long pause, wherein only my heartbeat could be heard, the stone answered with a distant and soft voice in my mind, “Time is everything.”

—————-

Goblin Valley, Utah

From a website I made a few years back called “A Circle in the Desert”
It can be found here:

http://www.newrational.com/circle/index.html


Another Geometry

A poem and music track from my first album, Cave of the Jaguar.

 

 

Truth in a Strange Land

Truth alone shall appease this needful thirst.
Aloof and intimate.
Content with only that roaring revelation –
Hard and cold.
It stings like disappointment – the price
extracted from my past.
Closing and opening.
Deep and serious mystery. Clear light glory!
Laid out before me – seeker and supplicant to
That God only.
I shed my dear beliefs as rent clothing
slipping from straining muscles.
Naked.
The new Truth is old. Shining and disturbing.
Old and very new.
Raw-nerved, I reach forward to hold, delicately,
The next awe –
An unexpected vista stretching on to newer rules.
Another geometry.

 

————————————

Here is my original music track for this piece: 

http://www.jaguarfeather.com/resources/Another%20Geometry.mp3

 

Information on this album, “Cave of the Jaguar” here:

http://www.jaguarfeather.com/cotj.html


Childlike Encounters with Spirit Beings

   When we humans are first toddling around, we spend a great deal of our energy trying to understand the overwhelmingly complex adult world we have been thrust into by virtue of being born. It strikes me as the equivalent of one of us adult humans being thrust into an advanced alien society, and spending much energy trying to adapt ourselves and our understandings – our worldview – to accommodate this new and far more complex reality.

The four year old child does this by constructing a simplified, childlike, cartoon version of the adult world that surrounds them. We adults tend to find this pleasing, amusing, and wholesome. We help this along by giving our kids toys, children’s books and games, and so on. Eventually, we know they will grow and expand their knowledge and the sophistication of their perceptions of the adult world that they will soon join in full.

When we enter the spirit realms directly through the sacred use of entheogens and plant medicines like Ayahuasca, we often encounter intelligent beings that interact with us. They are certainly different from us and may be quite alien – very “advanced” – compared to us. When we try to enter that realm, it seems to me we are like the four year old. We construct for ourselves simplified, cartoon interpretations of what we are being shown or exposed to. We see visions that we define in a way that must, to the spirit beings we encounter, seem childlike.

It is amazing to have such an encounter and feel the sincere interest and even love that comes from many of these Others. They may teach us harsh lessons, but also may give us gifts that seem like toys to us, but are actually much more meaningful in ways we are not developed enough to comprehend.  Kind of like a four year old human.


The Mystery Behind Anesthesia – Technology Review

The Mystery Behind Anesthesia – Technology Review.

 

 

I recently had major surgery where I was given Propofol for anesthesia. This article talks about that drug and how some researchers are studying patients undergoing anesthesia for clues to understanding consciousness.

The Propofol experience was very strange and so completely opposite of what I experienced with Ayahuasca. It was like an off, then on switch. Nothing in between.


A Poem from a Dream

David Crews
(from a dream)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Walking earnestly through a timely land,
I dreamt I met myself three times.
Each one, an earlier shade of Self.
Each to cause some sense of shock as
I reentered life where I had been
And found the things I once held,
Surprising with their sudden existence.

Busy in my walking, I had forgotten them.
Like heavy coats, and Things to carry.
Each older version of myself,
Was burdened the more, yet unaware
Of those burdens at all.
Bemused, I wondered at my several selves.
How could I have been so hindered?

As the walker, it is certain I cannot afford them.
I must move on – get to my destination.
I smile and shake my head.
Just leave those things, I say,
And come along.

Perhaps, when I die,
I shall shed it all and become
As light as a Thought.

Perhaps, I shall float above that world
Containing all my older selves –
A soap bubble, fragile but enduring.
A swirl of pastel colors.
As light as a single inspiration.
Strong as the pain of loss.

Where all that keeps me from bursting
Is my own fierce beauty.

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