The next journey began with a long stare into a lone flickering candle, whose small flame seared an imprint in my mind as the mushrooms came on quickly and rather smoothly, taking me down that path of ineffable imagery. My higher self (a misnomer of my most possessive and well-articulated ego) fought bravely (if not foolishly) to maintain control, sometimes successfully pulling me back from full immersion, and sometimes unsuccessfully falling into the clutches of unrepenting psychedelia. Hyperdimensional, multicolored, and multipatterned phantasmagorica drew me in deeper and downwards, in waves, and I sank into an all-encompassing cloud-like world of light, shape, and color. My ego fought on for control and kept me thinking that the mushroom world was a rather silly world indeed, with its indescribable colors and patterned imagery, and nothing more than beauty alone to go on. But I now wonder whether that ineffable beauty was not an expression in disguise of the creative principle of my waking mind? Perhaps if I could remember more of my visual journey at the initial phase, rather than having my memory wiped one image after the next, I could savor the intensity of those images more deeply and provide more insight. Alas, if only I could retain those images! But my rather amnesiac memory, couples with the ego’s fear of letting go, tends to lessen the impact of the light show of the gods. In retrospect I realize that I must remember that this is pleasure in the form of beauty and it need not be denied. For despite my once-in-awhile disappearance from work/home as I engage in this secret psychonautica, I often deny myself pleasure. I have taken on much responsibility at home and at work, partly because I feel more in control and partly in knowing that this is my mission in many ways. Yet in taking responsibility I lose my ability to feel, to enjoy, to participate. These messages keep coming to me, even if my mind was wrestling for a bit of control. I also noticed that the imagery had become was very feminine –multi-breasted Asiatic Indian women rising upwards along with images of African birth mothers later on. At that point I felt a bit of a loss for not being female, for not being able to give birth or to breastfeed and support life. What do I contribute, I wondered? What do I contribute to life to our physical existence – with no ovaries or vagina or no milk glands? I will never know what it means to physically create life and that realization, while not sad, was felt deep within as a form of emptiness. So beyond some DNA what do I contribute to the miracle of life, I wondered?
In retrospect, this journey was clearly more top-down and not an exploration of consciousness from the ground up. I pondered my role in nature and perceived the workings of my mind from the level of the lower self, seen clearly as an ape curled in the fetal position. I heard a voice in my mind calling him a “weak ape” again and again. Who’s voice was it that I heard – my so-called higher self? And why “weak”? That ape is my early mammalian operating system, important for motor control, balance and coordination, attention, integration of the five senses, and the overall ability to function. Not high intellect maybe, but try functioning without it. So what is 2.0, the higher self of the frontotemporal lobe – the ego, afraid of exactly?
The weak ape is the base for all our higher thought and application, and does exactly what it was designed to do – run the savanna, be omnivorous, and communicate through sound. My ego sees “the weak ape” not for what it is, but for what it isn’t. The judgement call of the so-called higher self is incorrect. The lower self is not weak at all, it is the emotional side that wants to be loved, cherished, and cared for. Yet the higher self always wants me to be strong, dutiful, and in control – like the wolf, whose image was strong in the journey. The dutiful wolf that keeps guard and watches the family, whose stoic and strong ways make him wise and experienced. Yet, after the transition from the psychedelia to the cognitive realm, more African imagery was seen – the lower ape, an African mother, and a sense that my different selves are derived from different areas of my brain. Moreover, I recognized my father in myself – he who also took responsibility, but suffered the inner tantrums of frustration from the role taken and, perhaps, unwanted. Yet, I have had even more years than he in this role as father, but with far less frustration and with far more love in my heart and given to all those around me. I may follow in his footsteps of the wolf, but I do so with greater love and compassion for my family and, as a consequence, myself. Hence, my continued journeys to the transcendent consciousness of the mind and the jewels gathered.