Journeys into the bright world

It should also be pointed out that such attitude adjusters as alcohol, cigarets, and coffee are not truly "natural" nor are most of the aids in the average medicine cabinet including pep pills, tranquilizers, and the like. Then there are the foods that have been tampered with by man such as sugar and bleached white flour. No matter what we do or don't do, we are obliged to modify the dictates of nature. For some reason, however, many people consider chemical uplifts for the sake of sensory enjoyment to be permissible, while denying them to those who seek supersensible bliss. Much of this controversy has nothing to do with what may or may not be natural, but rather stems from what the author Alan Watts calls "the taboo against knowing who you are." In any event, once Howard and I adopted the name of "Samadhi Therapy" it quickly began to sound right and natural. It seemed to both of us that the simple fact of joyousness must be inherently therapeutic. To forget one's problems and take flight into the empyrean of inner space can give an entirely new perspective which remains even after coming back down to earth. Obviously there were many other benefits that might accrue to mortal beings privileged to partake of ketamine's "nectar of the gods" but these long term results would have to unfold in due time.

The use of the word therapy implies the existence of problems to be solved. Certainly no one can deny that the complement of joy is pain and that a person cannot seek the light without also encountering shadows. To date there had been no bad trips, but the issue of the nature and meaning of suffering did have a tendency to arise. After all, we were dealing with an anesthetic developed to counteract pain. About this time a friend who had no idea we were involved in psychedelic research sent us the following poem by Geoffrey Grigson taken from the October 30, 1970 issue of the British magazine New Statesman.

SOD F.R.S. SYNTHESIZES THE PEOPLE'S OPIUM

In a communication to Nature my old friend Sod
Announced that he and his colleagues, fellows
Of Corpus, had synthesized God.

Careful at first, priests now applaud,
They propose we partake, as if it were snuff,
Of Sod's new White Crystals of Risen Lord.

What they don't understand is that bloody old Sod
In Nature next week will dilate on
The rather unpleasant side-kicks from God.

In bulk by compulsion dyed a bright orange
God should be had, he will say, on prescription
Alone in a fish-shaped lozenge.

I think I must add that having in this way synthesized God
And started a really stupendous addiction,
His conscience worries old Sod.

Who to get us back on the level
Has started research, the old Sod, on
Synthesized Devil.

While we do not believe in the Devil we were prepared to admit the spiritual axiom that "perfection brings imperfection to the surface." Even in our newfound happiness the inevitable problems to which all flesh is heir could not be overlooked. Family, financial, and psychological pressures still lurked behind the scenes. Hence it will be seen in the following transcripts that we were already using our own brand of samadhi therapy to deal with some of the residual frustrations in our personal lives.

Session 7

December 3, 1977   10:00 am   Alderwood Manor   25 mg

Marcia. I'm sitting erect. Now I'm well under. Looking at my picture of Egypt. The chirping of the crickets is very loud. They're chirping all over the place. I'm not sure whether I can remain in a meditative posture or not.

Howard. I don't feel anything yet.

Marcia. I feel wonderful.

Howard. It's only been two minutes. I'm a little bit frightened.

Marcia. Yes. It's a truth serum.

Howard. I'm getting a little visual alternation. The only thing I don't like…the part I don't like at all is that waxy feeling. I just hate that. It's so artificial. I have that right this minute.

Marcia. Yes. It's just like wax. Exactly.

Howard. I hate that. It's so artificial.

Marcia. What's happening to me now is…

Howard. You're not dizzy now are you?