Journeys into the bright world

The rest of the night was glorified with visions of sparkling colors, flowing streams of light, and bursts of gemlike scintillae, as though the watchkeepers of the psyche were celebrating their brief spate of independence from normal perceptual controls. In tune with these neural pyrotechnics my heart seemed to open up and melt with a beatific love for all beings. I totally grasped the fact that compassion is the consciousness of God and that the capacity to relate sympathetically to all beings is the purest manifestation of the divinity within. Would it henceforth be possible to make my own life a more radiant expression of that sublime concern for the lowest and least particles of creation?

From that moment I have never doubted the essential reality of the vision perceived during my ten-second glimpse into the illimitable grandeur of a Self-illuminating cosmos. I knew beyond all question that the revelation was not just in my own head. That corruscating blossom was no mere mirage of a mind disordered by an artifically induced concatenation of phase sequences in the cortex. To this day I believe that this is how the universe really is an incandescent vortex spiraling outward through multi-dimensional designs of indescribable richness and beauty. And, amazingly enough, the whole pattern looks much like a flower.

Even though the joy vibrations lingered on, the forcible dilation of my sensory apparatus left me "freaked-out" and exhausted for three days. Consequently, I determined not to push my luck by soliciting a repeat performance. It was enough to know that this luminous reality existed and could be apprehended even while the soul remained attached to its cage of flesh. I was grateful for this gift of "gratuitous grace" and willing to descend into the valley from whence the next mountaintop of spiritual discovery would have to be climbed under my own steam.

Now more than five years later it appeared that another chance might be granted to peck like a fledgling chicken beyond the egg-shaped confines of the skull. Even with my yogic practices this dome of bone remained an obdurate barrier between my ego-encapsulated persona and the bright beyond. Several months earlier when Jane first mentioned ketamine she insisted that although the substance was as potent as LSD it was gentle on the body, clarified the mind, and lasted less than an hour. Moreover, in many people it produced what appeared to be genuine out-of-the-body experiences.

Being of the school of thought that holds that you don't get something for nothing it was hard for me to believe that any drug could shatter the rigid defenses of consciousness without damaging the embryonic organism within. Nevertheless, I was impressed by Jane's insistence that she had taken the substance at least two hundred times herself and had presided over as many sessions with others. Only once had there been an adverse reaction. On this exceptional occasion difficulty arose because the subject tried to move about as the drug took effect. Evidently he was trying to assert his own powers of control.

Even with my limited experience I well understand this problem. With all "mind-manifesting" substances surrender is the name of the game. Once you take that dive into the deep waters of the psyche it is useless to make a frantic grab for the springboard in midair. Changing one's mind at that point can result only in a disagreeable bellyflop. The forces engendered must take their course. In this respect the cultivated relaxation of yoga makes an excellent preparation for the psychedelic plunge. Still more important is the basic quality of faith in the goodness of the Universe and in the divine Self within.

We had little difficulty finding Jane's house, which lay snugly hidden below the hillside where the traffic snaked back and forth between mountains and sea. Jane herself greeted us warmly at the door and ushered us into a sanctuary that was an esthetic delight, alive with thriving plants, a few exotic sculptures and wall hangings and with a view of the sparkling surf below. The wide-windowed livingroom was sparsely but elegantly furnished with black Japanese-style mats and cushions laid out on a shining wooden floor. At one end a sloping brick fireplace melded harmoniously into the richness olj trailing greenery, while at the other a redwood porch jutted out among the treetops. Each graciously fashioned touch was an invitation to repose.