Journeys into the bright world

People who wish to retreat into themselves, whether through meditation or drugs, are often accused of escapism. But we find that escapism comes not from diving too deep into the living wellsprings of our beings, but rather from not going deep enough. What could be more superficial that most people's means of escape-booze, nightclubs, spectator sports, soap operas and the like. Almost invariably those who have dug down to the depths of the psyche have found therein the resources to rise above sorrows, withstand pain and cope with the picayune perplexities of the daily round.

From a pragmatic viewpoint, the main problem with mystical experiences is that they take so long to achieve by normal means. By the time we find out what life is about it is too late to live it. Now, however, owing to the psychedelic movement launched in the 1960's we have a generation of people who in their most productive years are already seasoned travelers in the inner dimensions of consciousness. It hasn't been necessary for them to pass through decades of prayer and isolation in order to look within themselves. (Perhaps some of them have already done this in other incarnations?) Many have had their basic education in mysticism along with reading, writing and arithmetic and can now draw upon their experiences with altered states of consciousness while engaged in the business of carrying on their work in the world. Like mountain climbers who have started their ascent from a half-way house rather than from a base camp they have that much more chance of reaching the top.

So it seemed logical that many of the children of the sixties who had already set out upon the path to higher consciousness would be receptive to what we had learned. It was with them in mind that Howard and I decided to call our work with ketamine "samadhi therapy" and to pursue it not only for ourselves but for the sake of all who might benefit from it. We believe that not only may this substance be helpful to individuals, it can also be a medicine for our age, combatting the sick superstition of materialism with which our society is ridden. At this point there seems every reason to believe that the judicious use of ketamine can help people to live better, to die better and to consolidate the contact with the immortal essence of themselves that transcends all earthly births and deaths.

In a way it saddens us to make these statements because we know there are many spiritual seekers to whom such a stand will seem tantamount to blasphemy.

"I know what you are doing and I don't approve!" an erstwhile friend declared, shaking her finger formidably in Howard's face. Being the eternal "nice guy" he was taken aback, especially since she actually had not the slightest conception of what we were up to, or why.

For my own part, I fought these battles when I began teaching Hatha Yoga and astrology, and to a much greater extent while promoting the technique of hypersentience. To date, virtually all the opposition encountered has come not from lay people or from the medical profession but from oldline occultists. At the grassroots people have been remarkably openminded, possibly because they did not feel qualified to criticize. Too often it has been our colleagues who have felt threatened.

Well, we have been outlaws before, and have learned to wait for our detractors to awaken to the truth of what we are trying to accomplish. Surprisingly often they have eventually come around. All the same, it is sad when one's opponents are those who should be in the same camp.

Probably the most virulent criticism of our samadhi therapy will come from those who are playing the "liberation game." Imagine, if you will, a child who has been throwing dice and moving a colored marker back and forth over a board marked out with a maze of rectangular spaces. From house to office and from car to coffin he moves from one boxed-in enclosure to the next along a predetermined track. For hours he has been engaged in this labyrinthine competition with the idea in mind that at the end his marker will be deposited in a square at the center labeled "goal." Then along comes an officiously helpful person who says, "See, little one, I can save you all this time and trouble." Scooping up the markers the intruder preemptorily dumps them in the center. Is it any wonder, then, that the child flies into a rage? Unless the game has been worth the playing throughout-like playing a beloved musical score-the child would feel that all his efforts had been in vain.