Journeys into the bright world

Howard. That tape recorder can't keep going and going. I have no conception of time.

Marcia. It's still going.

Howard. This stuff is potent. It goes into every crevice of your soul. There can't be one little web that isn't scoured.

Marcia. This is what Christmas is about. You go to that horrendous amount of work so that you can feel the way you feel now.

Howard. Ah, samadhi therapy. (Laughing) Where am I? Who am I? What am I?… Places and spaces.

Although our December 27th session was held after a daylong partial fast I was still feeling earthbound from the several extra pounds of all-too-solid flesh accrued from our holiday indulgences. Hence it seemed logical to assume that fifty milligrams would be no more effective than the fifty taken the day before Christmas. Consequently, I started out sitting erect with my back against the door. By the third minute my body was flattened and my mind once again riding the whirlwind back to the "eternal now" where it seemed as though I had always been. Whereas on planet Earth many events can happen in different places at the same time, there in the cosmatrix many times happen in the same place. Since this is a completely indescribable reversal of customary modes of perception nothing is said of it on the following tape.

Session 14

December 27, 1977   7:20 pm   Alderwood Manor   50 mg

Marcia. I think what I have built up is more of a psychological than a physical tolerance. But I could be wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things. For example, I was wrong in thinking that I would come to a point where I wouldn't need you with me when coming out. Instead I need it more than ever… Now I'm feeling it already. One minute and ten seconds and I can feel it. One of the reasons the experience is pleasurable is because I know what's coming. It could be panicky if this were the first time and I was in a hospital. There wouldn't be any pleasure at all. It feels good because I know that I'm going into the bright world.

Howard. If you're in the hospital you don't get to feel anything. You go right out.

Marcia. Yes, I guess I'll go deep this time. (Whispering) The esthetic anesthetic. Oh it's so beautiful. Oh…

Howard. Your pulse is up.

Marcia. (Mumbling. For the next twenty minutes I was completely incommunicado. As always, however, there was no diminution of consciousness. As I started the return journey I found myself at the start of the assembly line out of which arechetypes are minted. Everything was turning in such a way as to make it evident that all creation is based on spiraling forms of motion. Witnessing this living geometry of a self-sustaining cosmos it appeared that the same processes governed atoms, men, solar systems and galaxies. Semantically "uni-verse" means turning toward the one center, and this is what I actually saw.

My impression was that there are many interpenetrating levels of archetypes and that this time I had been whirled out of the cosmatrix-as from a centrifuge-onto a subtler plane than any on which I had previously tarried. In a sense, the cosmic vortex seemed to function in the manner of a railway roundhouse which turns the engines to a different angle and alines their wheels with one or another of various possible tracks. On this pivotal level the experience was devoid of emotion. At the same time, the mere fact of being there affected me to the core of my being. It was as though I had to start from these abstract realms to dig the channels through which feelings, released at a lower elevation, would later flow.)

Howard. I'll take your blood pressure. It's 140 systolic over 90 diastolic… You'd better lie down. You're lying down now. Can you hear me? Are you with me? Hum. (Laughing) She's in the bright world. (Pause) Where are you? Your pupils are constricted. Lets see, it's seventeen after. Blood pressure 130 systolic. Pulse is 100… Pulse 92. Where are you at? (Laughing) I'll make it funny for the tape. (Speaking into the recorder) This is getting to be a drag. I do anesthesia all day and then I come home and do it at night. You'll appreciate that tomorrow when you hear… (Pause) Well, you're still in the bright world… Let's see what your blood pressure is doing… 92 pulse. It's 7:30-twenty minutes.

Marcia. (Whispering) I'm always saying that's the deepest I've gone. (Sighing) Oh God, it's like you have to begin all over again to try to remember.

Howard. That's powerful stuff, isn't it.

Marcia. (Coming back to the surface with difficulty.) The only reason I try to write about the bright world is because I'm so stupid. Because anyone who knew what it was really like would know that you can't bring it through. Is that the same fifty milligrams as my Christmas trip?

Howard. Exactly. It makes a big difference when you fast.