88
Rising Star
Why is it so dark in here? Much darker than I've ever seen it.
Though there are no visible details, somehow it's recognisably Pau d'Arco – something golden brown in there, twisting, like wind in distant trees in autumn after sundown by the light of a single star. Delicate, paper thin jesters like leaves, strung with mono-atomic filament, spiraling downwards. But it's so dark, I can't see any of this.
If I can't see them, how is it I can see them?
Down, down we go, to the entrance to the underwater cave. It's all happening nice and slow – and that means the dose is precisely right. Perhaps 70 seconds or so ago, the last vapours of 120mg of Golden Temporal changa exhaled; Pau D'Arco and Caapi leaf in equal measure, infused 1:1 with spice.
Permission is granted to access the inner sanctum; the locus and fulcrum; the master frequency. I give thanks, hold my hands together and float within. This is the world of jim-jam - the infinitely fractal, plastic reality that seems to be the essence of the molecule's manifestation. But it's even darker in here, if that was even possible. I'm like a diver with a dirty mask. Can't see a damn thing.
I can't see, I say.
Yes. And you can't see this either.
The jim-jam becomes a pulsing wall of intricate, interlocking frequencies of matter. It is bifurcated in the central plane, split at the Greenwich Meridian of my awareness, and it is pulsing outward from zero degrees in standing waves of infinite quantum knowledge. It is information as matter, as form.
I don't try to tap into the knowledge. Previous journeys have taught that it is impossible to retain this; it is utterly beyond the capacity of my brain, although, paradoxically, it is already somehow in me. But knowledge is not the lesson this time.
It is perception.
The pulsing knowledge waves slow and grow into green walls all around, building a delicate, fluid, peppermint palace. This is the centre of a point - which, when you think about it, is an impossible concept that lays bare the limits of our system of understanding. In this singularity there are no entities; the place itself is aware, it is pure consciousness.
“I am profoundly grateful to you for letting me be here” I say out loud.
Then I ask: “why can't I see?“
“You can.”
It's true. I'm aware of the peppermint structures all around me, in all their infinite precision. Even though I can't see, I am aware of the changing imagery around me - but my perception of this is total. The input is coming at me from everywhere. 360 degrees.
“To see without seeing. Know without knowing. We call this, backward seeing.”
It hits me like a meteorite – this is a completely new way of perception; a different level of awareness. As long as I don't try to hold on to it, or focus on any one part of it, I can see all of it at once. It is mind blowing. I have had a fixed point of view throughout my entire existence, an unquestioned sensory structure that places the world, reality, in front of me – and separate from me.
With “backward seeing”, I am in it, an integral part of it. Though there is still an 'I', it is just a receiver of input; an awareness. It is not separate any more.
I am so grateful, I'm in tears. I feel like a child. I say thank you a thousand times.
Back on this plane, my body snaps out of its prone launch position, into the Lotus – straight back, head up, but with hands together in thanks. For what seems like eternity, I simply see without seeing, as the journey brings me back through the familiar insect consciousness, and then into a realm of beautiful, simple, ever-shifting light.
It had been 25 minutes since going In. I opened my eyes, got up, went through to the kitchen and got a glass of water.
Then I felt compelled to do what I am going to call yoga, though practitioners of this ancient philosophy may not agree. They are no doubt right – I've never done yoga before. I know nothing about it. But for the next forty minutes or so, I was moving into positions which seemed to me to have intent and focus. By the end, I was standing, looking up and an almighty burst of light exploded in my 360 degree view, followed by a sound like the fabric of reality being ripped apart. It was like a jumbo jet was landing next to me, or an earthquake, or my neighbour coming through the wall with an army of jack hammers … I opened my eyes, but there was nothing in the room. The sound roared on for maybe two minutes, before subsiding.
It was the most phenomenal feeling that followed – I felt like something inside of me had been perfectly realigned.
Less than an hour later, a big change in my life happened; something that had been teetering for months. 24 hours later, I've moved out of the house I was renting and everything I own is in bags and boxes. So this will probably be my last report, and last journey, for some time.
Everything is changing. Wish me luck.
much love to you all.
Though there are no visible details, somehow it's recognisably Pau d'Arco – something golden brown in there, twisting, like wind in distant trees in autumn after sundown by the light of a single star. Delicate, paper thin jesters like leaves, strung with mono-atomic filament, spiraling downwards. But it's so dark, I can't see any of this.
If I can't see them, how is it I can see them?
Down, down we go, to the entrance to the underwater cave. It's all happening nice and slow – and that means the dose is precisely right. Perhaps 70 seconds or so ago, the last vapours of 120mg of Golden Temporal changa exhaled; Pau D'Arco and Caapi leaf in equal measure, infused 1:1 with spice.
Permission is granted to access the inner sanctum; the locus and fulcrum; the master frequency. I give thanks, hold my hands together and float within. This is the world of jim-jam - the infinitely fractal, plastic reality that seems to be the essence of the molecule's manifestation. But it's even darker in here, if that was even possible. I'm like a diver with a dirty mask. Can't see a damn thing.
I can't see, I say.
Yes. And you can't see this either.
The jim-jam becomes a pulsing wall of intricate, interlocking frequencies of matter. It is bifurcated in the central plane, split at the Greenwich Meridian of my awareness, and it is pulsing outward from zero degrees in standing waves of infinite quantum knowledge. It is information as matter, as form.
I don't try to tap into the knowledge. Previous journeys have taught that it is impossible to retain this; it is utterly beyond the capacity of my brain, although, paradoxically, it is already somehow in me. But knowledge is not the lesson this time.
It is perception.
The pulsing knowledge waves slow and grow into green walls all around, building a delicate, fluid, peppermint palace. This is the centre of a point - which, when you think about it, is an impossible concept that lays bare the limits of our system of understanding. In this singularity there are no entities; the place itself is aware, it is pure consciousness.
“I am profoundly grateful to you for letting me be here” I say out loud.
Then I ask: “why can't I see?“
“You can.”
It's true. I'm aware of the peppermint structures all around me, in all their infinite precision. Even though I can't see, I am aware of the changing imagery around me - but my perception of this is total. The input is coming at me from everywhere. 360 degrees.
“To see without seeing. Know without knowing. We call this, backward seeing.”
It hits me like a meteorite – this is a completely new way of perception; a different level of awareness. As long as I don't try to hold on to it, or focus on any one part of it, I can see all of it at once. It is mind blowing. I have had a fixed point of view throughout my entire existence, an unquestioned sensory structure that places the world, reality, in front of me – and separate from me.
With “backward seeing”, I am in it, an integral part of it. Though there is still an 'I', it is just a receiver of input; an awareness. It is not separate any more.
I am so grateful, I'm in tears. I feel like a child. I say thank you a thousand times.
Back on this plane, my body snaps out of its prone launch position, into the Lotus – straight back, head up, but with hands together in thanks. For what seems like eternity, I simply see without seeing, as the journey brings me back through the familiar insect consciousness, and then into a realm of beautiful, simple, ever-shifting light.
It had been 25 minutes since going In. I opened my eyes, got up, went through to the kitchen and got a glass of water.
Then I felt compelled to do what I am going to call yoga, though practitioners of this ancient philosophy may not agree. They are no doubt right – I've never done yoga before. I know nothing about it. But for the next forty minutes or so, I was moving into positions which seemed to me to have intent and focus. By the end, I was standing, looking up and an almighty burst of light exploded in my 360 degree view, followed by a sound like the fabric of reality being ripped apart. It was like a jumbo jet was landing next to me, or an earthquake, or my neighbour coming through the wall with an army of jack hammers … I opened my eyes, but there was nothing in the room. The sound roared on for maybe two minutes, before subsiding.
It was the most phenomenal feeling that followed – I felt like something inside of me had been perfectly realigned.
Less than an hour later, a big change in my life happened; something that had been teetering for months. 24 hours later, I've moved out of the house I was renting and everything I own is in bags and boxes. So this will probably be my last report, and last journey, for some time.
Everything is changing. Wish me luck.
much love to you all.
