Link to:
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4 Wherein the author endeavours to scribe a summarial understanding :
So from 4 hits of acid, approximately 4-500ug, I intuited that I am God, that I signed a contract with myself to play a sort of game in which there are keys (the familiar entheogens), keys that allow a sort of partial freewill in a largely deterministic gameplay ; that the use of the keys, while allowing a connection to our (my) true nature and allowing for limited choice, is a risky tactic in the game, the outcome of which is potential dementia, schizophrenia and/or «key» induced psychosis. The trick of the game is understanding the only other choice you have, once you have employed the keys of freewill : Fear or Acceptance.
The game itself seems to take place on a playing field of infinite probability, flitting in and out of existence moment by infinitesimally small moment, creating the illusion of continuity, and hence of TIME itself.
From there I partially left this solipsism to envision a world of many truths, each truth a player in the game (perhaps evoked by me, but at the very least all interconnected), shards of truths that in their totality, the totality of all fragments of consciousness, is the sum of all, the TRUTH, the ABSOLUTE. And that, in the terms of the material world, these little partial truths either encode or decode this truth in an eternal tennis match of quotidian life. By merely living we incarnate truth and hide that truth or endeavour to disclose it with the weak tools at our disposal : Language, Art, Music, Architecture (empire building for that matter), Technology, Progress, and even, yes, War and Killing.
All in an attempt to understand some small part of this reality, of this billowing, expanding and incomprehensible universe. It applies here somewhat, but this is what I thought of this place we visit after a particularly harrowing DMT breakthrough :
Imagine the utter terror experienced by a newborn: jettisoned from the womb, umbilical cord clipped, drawing in its first gulp of air and opening its eyes to the hostile light of the world for the first time; oxygen flooding virgin lungs, a whole cardiopulmonary system shocked into action, those little orbs set in a tiny skull that have never seen more than the dim red glow of placenta being opened to a universe of reflection and refraction, shards of light bounding around in a seeming assault, a barrage of alien colour and intensity; and the sounds - never such cacophony, billowing around the small cartilaginous shells that heretofore have heard no more than the dull distant thud of their mother's heart, now subjected to screeching frequencies unimaginable...
I have to think of these experiences as a form birth for them to make sense. Something that will soften to some level of comprehension, or at the very least diminished violence, in subsequent trips, like the newborn slowly adapting to a novel, strange reality...
And the death of my old self, the precious illusion (if it indeed be one) of my old mind, the shedding, the passing on, the evolving... For every birth requires a death, and every demise, a blossom.
(Maya, pronounced in reverse, is a phonetic analogue of I am. IAMAYA. Illusion is the illusion; THE ILL YOU SHUN IS THE ILLYOUSHUN.)
We strive to understand, to compartmentalize with these weak symbols, for they are all we have. The irony being, of course, that where the mind and spirit are concerned conclusions are antithetical to understanding. We are the symbols we use. At the end of the day, all we have is imagination and those things imagined.
So I propose a model, a symbol, a conclusion that veils and unveils :
Imagine the universe, reality itself in its entirety:
An eternally folding reflective punctured torus of ONE consciousness, no inside, no outside, no beginning no end,
bending, gyrating, enveloping, folding over itself and reflecting the reflection of itself reflecting - this multitude of reflections creating the illusion of many, of infinite consciousnesses, all containing all others but distinct unto itself...
ALL WE HAVE IS IMAGINATION AND THOSE THINGS IMAGINED. So imagine this torus, with a mirrored surface. It is you, it is me, it is nothing and it is all there is in this grandest of mysteries:
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4 Wherein the author endeavours to scribe a summarial understanding :
So from 4 hits of acid, approximately 4-500ug, I intuited that I am God, that I signed a contract with myself to play a sort of game in which there are keys (the familiar entheogens), keys that allow a sort of partial freewill in a largely deterministic gameplay ; that the use of the keys, while allowing a connection to our (my) true nature and allowing for limited choice, is a risky tactic in the game, the outcome of which is potential dementia, schizophrenia and/or «key» induced psychosis. The trick of the game is understanding the only other choice you have, once you have employed the keys of freewill : Fear or Acceptance.
The game itself seems to take place on a playing field of infinite probability, flitting in and out of existence moment by infinitesimally small moment, creating the illusion of continuity, and hence of TIME itself.
From there I partially left this solipsism to envision a world of many truths, each truth a player in the game (perhaps evoked by me, but at the very least all interconnected), shards of truths that in their totality, the totality of all fragments of consciousness, is the sum of all, the TRUTH, the ABSOLUTE. And that, in the terms of the material world, these little partial truths either encode or decode this truth in an eternal tennis match of quotidian life. By merely living we incarnate truth and hide that truth or endeavour to disclose it with the weak tools at our disposal : Language, Art, Music, Architecture (empire building for that matter), Technology, Progress, and even, yes, War and Killing.
All in an attempt to understand some small part of this reality, of this billowing, expanding and incomprehensible universe. It applies here somewhat, but this is what I thought of this place we visit after a particularly harrowing DMT breakthrough :
Imagine the utter terror experienced by a newborn: jettisoned from the womb, umbilical cord clipped, drawing in its first gulp of air and opening its eyes to the hostile light of the world for the first time; oxygen flooding virgin lungs, a whole cardiopulmonary system shocked into action, those little orbs set in a tiny skull that have never seen more than the dim red glow of placenta being opened to a universe of reflection and refraction, shards of light bounding around in a seeming assault, a barrage of alien colour and intensity; and the sounds - never such cacophony, billowing around the small cartilaginous shells that heretofore have heard no more than the dull distant thud of their mother's heart, now subjected to screeching frequencies unimaginable...
I have to think of these experiences as a form birth for them to make sense. Something that will soften to some level of comprehension, or at the very least diminished violence, in subsequent trips, like the newborn slowly adapting to a novel, strange reality...
And the death of my old self, the precious illusion (if it indeed be one) of my old mind, the shedding, the passing on, the evolving... For every birth requires a death, and every demise, a blossom.
(Maya, pronounced in reverse, is a phonetic analogue of I am. IAMAYA. Illusion is the illusion; THE ILL YOU SHUN IS THE ILLYOUSHUN.)
We strive to understand, to compartmentalize with these weak symbols, for they are all we have. The irony being, of course, that where the mind and spirit are concerned conclusions are antithetical to understanding. We are the symbols we use. At the end of the day, all we have is imagination and those things imagined.
So I propose a model, a symbol, a conclusion that veils and unveils :
Imagine the universe, reality itself in its entirety:
An eternally folding reflective punctured torus of ONE consciousness, no inside, no outside, no beginning no end,
bending, gyrating, enveloping, folding over itself and reflecting the reflection of itself reflecting - this multitude of reflections creating the illusion of many, of infinite consciousnesses, all containing all others but distinct unto itself...
ALL WE HAVE IS IMAGINATION AND THOSE THINGS IMAGINED. So imagine this torus, with a mirrored surface. It is you, it is me, it is nothing and it is all there is in this grandest of mysteries:
