“To be a hero means being the author of your own myth.” ~ Alberto Villoldo, Ph.D, The Four Insights: Wisdom, Power and Grace of the Earthkeepers
“Depending on who you ask, the psychedelics are a boon to psychiatry, a menace to society, or a gateway to another realm. The most well-known members of the group are LSD, DMT, mescaline and psilocybin. LSD was discovered in 1943, but the others are produced by plants and fungi, and have been used by various cultures to induce altered states of consciousness for hundreds or thousands of years.
Psychedelic trips are highly variable and difficult to describe, but typical features include distorted perception or hallucinations, an altered sense of space and time and a loss of the normal boundaries of personhood, often accompanied by euphoria. The drugs have very little effect on physiology, and do not generally cause addiction or death from overdose.
The term psychedelic, from the Greek for “mind-manifesting”, was coined by Humphry Osmond, a British psychiatrist working in Canada in the 1950s. “To fathom hell or soar angelic / Just take a pinch of psychedelic,” he wrote in a letter to the writer Aldous Huxley. Osmond had introduced Huxley to mescaline, and Huxley went on to write The Doors of Perception about his psychedelic experience.
At the time, there was much excitement in the world of psychiatry about the power of these drugs to shake people out of troubled mental states. Osmond was particularly interested in using them to treat alcohol addiction, and saw abstinence rates in his patients of 40 to 45 per cent – better than those achieved by other therapies.
Others were interested in using psychedelics to induce experiences that feel deeply meaningful, and perhaps mystical. In a notorious experiment at Harvard University in 1962, nine out of 10 Christian volunteers given psilocybin had a spiritual experience, measured by a structured set of criteria, compared with one out of 10 who took a placebo.
When recreational use of LSD took off in the 1960s, psychedelic became the label for a whole subculture that built up around the drug, inspired by Huxley, psychologist Timothy Leary, poet Allen Ginsburg and others. Soon LSD was made illegal, and scientific research on the substances fell out of favour.
Since the 1990s, interest in psychedelics has experienced a revival. Neuroimaging studies have revealed how they work in the brain, reducing connectivity between areas that control perception and cognition. Clinical trials have explored using therapy with psilocybin to treat depression, addiction and other mental health conditions. The South American psychedelic plant brew ayahuasca has also been investigated as a depression treatment.”
Washing off the days reminants within the womb of the River Ganges, in the ancient lands of India, a young lady named Anadi, combed through her dark black locks wishing she had fulfilled her guru’s daily tasks. Worried reverberations tensed her worn out body.
Anadi’s guru had instructed her to contemplate by the serene waters edge on the concept of enlightenment. She was trembling at the thought of going insane. Throughout her journey on the path of enlightenment she had visions of past lives, angelic beings, prophetic dreams and doubted herself, were these visions true or a figment of her mind turning her insane?
Observing the river’s candles lit each night floating along the river, Anadi realised in her mind “for the mystic swims in the same waters as the insane.”
Guruji initiated her, “you have understood the point.” Painting an orange hue on her third eye she became one of Guruji’s enlightened deciples.
“Yes,” Anadi proclaimed.
Anadi was no longer afraid of turning insane, she realised that insanity and sanity are part of the duality of this dualistic world. By using her mind towards the creator, and only him, she would return to sanity through the insanity she was so worried of.
As she lit her candle, with empowering energy flowing throughout her physical vehicle, silently whispering a prayer her body aroused from the dream of the dream she was living in. In the hypnotic state she was in upon waking, she had met her dead guru in her dream reassuring her she was not going crazy.
That very young morning, when everyone was asleep and the birds were churping their morning symphony she said her daily blessings by the river Ganges. “For I am sane in an insane world” she echoed through the nearby caves.
“I have travelled through madness to find me,” she screamed.
Madness is somewhere between chaos and having a dream. Anadi made sense of the dream by plunging into it and moving with the dance. For those who did not hear the music, those dancing were deemed insane.
And the world kept on spinning and weaving it’s cosmic web…
Years after searching for God in psychedelics, Rumi had not wavered in her quest for knowledge. Without the benefit of a prescribed social role, she did what she wanted, when she wanted, which was to learn without regard for convention. Today, paradoxes were circulating around her mind, determined, she would not sleep without finding her answer.
At other times and in other places, Rumi would have been burned at the stake, hailed as a prophet, or stoned. The present time simply ignored her. Normal people treated Rumi as a public garbage can, light post, or stalled car, as an obstacle that could be moved but numbed by her surroundings.
“Take your pills NOW,” shouted the nurse down the corridor, from Texas’s renound mental hospital for the “insane.” Rumi rolled her eyes as Nurse Truchin’s sharp voice echoed and bounced off blood stained walls, she was sitting in room 23, her white washed room “gifted” to her by her parents, they could not cope with her cosmic mind anymore. Rumi had been in Senora Texas Mental Hospital for two weeks and she felt on edge, this was her first time in an asylum. Rumi paced up and down her abode, she had to take those dreaded sleeping pills or else they would force it down her throat somehow. Reluctantly she calmly walked down the hallway and was handed her pill through the dorms pill shutter.
Rumi swallowed the pill. “Good, now go back to your room, checks are at 11pm, make sure you are in your bed or you know what will happen,” said Nurse Truchin coldly. Rumi said nothing, she would achieve nothing by responding and quietly returned to her room blocking out the screams from the room beside her’s.
Shutting her door, relieved, she lay on her bed staring at the white washed walls that had become her friend. What were paradoxes? How could two opposing propositions exist at the same time? The sleeping pills were making her more and more drowsy. Lonely and with a heavy heart she pulled the duvet above her head. “A paradox is a statement or problem that either appears to produce two entirely contradictory (yet possible) outcomes, or provides proof for something that goes against what we intuitively expect,” Rumi reiterated inside of her mind.
Hallucinating as she usually did on these pills, she saw imagery quite like her visions on magic mushrooms a few months ago. Warping geometric patterns danced in a trance with eachother as her eyes flickered going in and out of consciousness.
I will sleep on this Rumi decided in her mind drifting off into the astral planes.
Upon awakening her answer had arrived, getting out her notebook she wrote “Paradoxes lead you to God.”
On her day of release, after all this time pretending to act normal to get out of this hell hole of an asylum, Rumi saw Mrs. Truchin as “insane” and Mrs. Truchin saw Rumi as insane. Rumi quietly knew that duality breaks down into formless consciousness; she was sane in an insane world.
“I know one thing,” Rumi said to Mrs. Truchin as she left the asylum doors. “And that is that I know nothing.” Rumi remembered studying ancient Greek philosopher’s such as Socrates years ago. Mrs. Truchin took one bewildered look at Rumi and walked away. Rumi smiled to herself and smelt freedom once again, her taxi was awaiting to pass through the doors into the insane world.
Time is a construct of consciousness and in higher dimensions has no meaning. but, in the lower dimensions it is used to measure changes and in the multitudes of parallel timelines all simultaneously existing. Paradoxes melt into the all, Source, Brahman, Allah, whatever name you stamp onto formless ether.
Those who control information, control the narrative of the world..
Cosmogony [Gr. Kosmogonia from Kosmos the world and root of gignesthai to be born] is the coming into existence, the creation and origination of the universe. It is also the study of these aspects. So a cosmogony describes how the Universe came to be; hence, the creation myth in the Book of Genesis is one such cosmogony, and there are many others, both scientific and mythological. This contrasts with cosmology, which studies the Universe at large, throughout its existence.
Kathakali is an ancient form of theater that originated in the state of Kerala in India. This Sanskrit word literally means “story play.” It is one of the oldest theater forms in the world and is distinguished by the elaborate makeup and costumes that the performers wear, as well as the symbolic gestures and dance movements.
The kathakali themes are based in Hinduism and yogic philosophy. The stories typically come from ancient narratives, like the “Mahabarata” and the “Ramayana,” and the scriptures called the Puranas.