Journeys into the bright world

My alchemy trip convinced me that at least for the time being I had discovered my own ideal dose. Twenty-five-milligrams would raise me to the esthetic level of perception, but was becoming less fruitful when it came to tapping the higher mental thought currents where real knowledge was to be obtained. If, however, at the leveling-out point I took another twenty-five-milligram booster shot I could sail along for just the right period of time at a cruising altitude where it was possible to enjoy the higher celestial regions and still remain oriented to the earth. Accordingly, I decided to repeat the experiment a few days later.

It had long since been made clear to me that one does not dictate to the goddess with regard to the information desired. For several weeks I had been programing myself to find out why my right hip joint was giving me so much pain, and had received no insight whatsoever. All right then, I shrugged. So the goddess wants to teach me about alchemy. I was willing to be a student. Indeed, nothing could have pleased me more than to delve deeper into the lore of ancient Egypt. Perhaps I would even be able to go directly to the source of alchemy which, I was becoming ever more convinced, was that inner-dimensional Egypt which still exists in a concurrent reality. Consequently I began my next trip with the happy expectation of discovering more about the symbolism of the serpent, the scarab and the bird.

The first twenty-five milligrams produced virtually no effect. After the booster shot, however, I suddenly realized that my body was feeling deliciously warm and at ease. Everywhere there was a pink and golden light. Fuchsia tones, like the distilled essence of the pack of valentine cards I had just taken down from our kitchen shelf, fluttered before my eyes. Now it was all sunshine and roses, cupids and urns, red hearts and white paper doilies, blossoming boughs, gardens of tulips and hyacinths, peach-toned lace and satin negligees, as though I were breathing in the best memories of all the pretty feminine fripperies I had every enjoyed. This was my springtime-of-the-soul archetype and it was being dramatized to a fare-thee-well. May poles, stolen kisses, giggles and games, rosy cheeks and dancing eyes, it was all there strung together with garlands of half-heard music, festoons of Japanese lanterns, and party-time laughter.

"Never mind that," said the voice of my analytical intellect. "You've gotten yourself into the archetype of spring but you know perfectly well there also has to be summer, autumn and fall. You're enjoying all those balmy breezes but you could just as easily slide into some Arctic waste."

"It's all right," a strong feminine voice cut in authoritatively. "Where we are now it's springtime and this is your divine valentine…your divine valentine… your divine valentine." The words ruffled on like an organdy flounce of frills, lightly, liltingly, with just a touch of humor. "Accept your divine valentine."

"Uh, that's really nice," my mind replied. "But I know that Valentine's Day comes but once a year."

"Hush, just lie back and accept what we have to give." Firmly, insistantly, whatever power it was that wanted me to have this valentine was making me lie back as though in a perfumed bubble bath. Now every limb of my body was receiving a gentle color massage. Fragrances wafted around me like those of the finest cosmetics.

"Oh how delicious! It's that big beauty parlor in the sky!" I exclaimed. And indeed, the treatment I was being given was not only delectable, it seemed to go on and on. After my skin had been stroked, soothed, and rubbed with warm oil I was made to witness the manner in which this healing pink light was interfusing my blood stream. I could actually see the individual cells being revitalized as the energy currents flowed through arteries and veins.

"Yes dear, this is your ethereal beauty salon and we're treating you with Cleopatra's cosmic cosmetics. Now just lie still and let us help you." It wasn't that I was actually hearing this voice; rather the thoughts were being imprinted in my mind. "Cleopatra's cosmetics." Coming into focus was the trademark of the establishment, an emblem bearing the face of the fabled Egyptian enchantress with wings on either side. The cosmetics themselves were arrayed in translucent pink jars created in the shapes of winged hearts. These vials seemed reminiscent of the ruby and crystal chalice of my earlier excursion into Egypt.