Sitting on a moss-covered
log at the edge of a cliff that hangs over the Pacific Ocean, I curled my toes
into the cold loamy soil beneath my feet.
I had just finished setting my intentions for the ritual. Looking up, I realized that the psilocybin had
already come on strong. I looked East
and what was once a seemingly normal outcropping of rock was now a Buddha-faced
Native American Indian chief, his illumined crown exploding into a headdress of
ancient cedars. His upturned palms
rested upon his extended arms at the level of his cheeks. His open mouth and pursed lips implied that
his breath was generating the wind that was driving the churning waves
below.
I had been on a quest for some time
now. Driven by strange but tantalizing
experiences in the early stages of my experiments with meditation, I had
gathered a lot of general information about many different schools of
mysticism. Taoism, Shamanism, and Yoga
were what made the most sense to me by that time. I had recently devoured a book on Yogic
philosophy. It was the first time
anybody had really spelled out Advaita,
the philosophical school of non-duality, for me. Simply reading for the first time that the
Self is Sat-Chit-Ananda,
Existence/Consciousness/Bliss-absolute, was a satori experience in itself. Somehow this opened something up for me and I
was suddenly able to look at things in a way that was a game-changer.
I resolved to visit the Northwestern-most point of the contiguous United
States, a few hours’ drive from where I lived at the time. I happened to know that there was a major
Earth-grid ley line that crossed this spot.
I would prepare by fasting from sugar, salt, alcohol, any
refined/processed foods, and sex for a week.
Finally, upon arrival, I would consume a few grams of mushrooms with the
intention of experiencing Reality at the level of only Sacchidānanda.
As wisps of dragon’s blood, frankincense, and myrrh curled and arched
their way up to copulate with my olfactory sense I was utterly stricken with
bliss. I continued to stare at the
unexpected manifestation of the Divine that had emerged from the adjacent stone
cliff and I knew that it was alive. I
followed the wind leaving its mouth and watched how the wind played upon the
surface of the water and vice-versa.
This was illustrated very graphically for me when a massive spherical
cloud of little black birds flew in front of me, nestled neatly in a pocket of
air pressure that followed the trough of a small but choppy wave.
The waves’ filling and crashing into the innermost reaches of the
sandstone caves beneath me rhythmically vibrated the entire sea cliff that I
sat upon. I put my ear to the ground and
listened to the briny deep filling and emptying from these various chambers and
I was reminded of the systole and diastole of a living heart. I sat back up and it seemed as if I could
hear every last molecule of water colliding into its neighbor from British
Columbia to Australia.
It seemed obvious to me that the distinction between all of the
phenomena that I was witnessing was somewhat arbitrary. It started with the question, “Where does the
water end and the air begin?” I couldn’t
answer that question so I looked to one that should have had a more obvious
answer: “Where does the air end and where do the birds begin?” I couldn’t answer that question either. Without further enquiry, I just knew that the
air, water, waves, the land, the stone deity, the log I was sitting on, and I
were all interconnected. Everything had
a place because this world is just a place for the only thing that really exists
– Consciousness – to express itself in every way imaginable.
At this point in my life, I had done some things that I was less than
proud of to say the least. Deep down, I
had not liked myself for a long time because I no longer lived up to the standard by which I judged others. But having
this experience revealed all of my mistakes as stepping stones. Whatever qualitative value I had assigned to whatever
particular thing I had done had had no impact on the perfection of Reality as I
was now perceiving it at this transcendent level. I realized that my past consisted of events
that, while generally performed based upon erroneous assumptions, had been
necessary to bring me to this point. And
so I forgave myself. I saw that, like
the new Reality before my eyes I too am
perfect. Purno’ham is how one says that in Sanskrit. Purno’ham:
I am perfect!
Then I found that, in not judging myself, I had no judgement to cast
upon anybody else. There were people who
had really done me dirty and I had hated them with all the passion and
intensity a person is capable of. But
this simple shift in perspective made it obvious that it just didn’t matter and
so I let it go right then and there.
Prior to that point, I had never realized how much baggage it is to hold
onto a grudge the way I had been doing since childhood. It felt so good to have that weight off my chest.
I cried too. I had started
tearing up the minute that I first looked up from my incense and list of
intentions. By the time I got to purno’ham, I was bawling. My heart was welling up, to the point of
overflowing, with joy and gratitude in response to all that I was
witnessing. The raw, unfiltered beauty
of everything was just so in-my-face that there was no ignoring it. If I had been trying to do anything other
than simply take it all in, it would have undoubtedly been incapacitating. I was in love with everything.
In
the Wake. . .
This is how I
experienced this particular level of enlightenment for the first time. Somehow the biochemical shift induced by the
psilocybin coupled with the ritual context I observed, the set and setting that
I had sought out, and the intention that I went into the experience with; all
of these factors converged to stop (or at least weaken) the normal processing
of sensory data that occurs somewhere after it is apprehended by the senses but
prior to its being perceived by the individual.
So I perceived Reality much more closely to the way that it actually is
rather than perceiving it through various layers of mental conditioning. In terms of what is categorically
experienced, this is the perception of unity-in-duality – the recognition of
which is ultimately the point of all of the various philosophical schools of
Yoga/Hinduism, and every one of what are more broadly termed “wisdom
traditions” for that matter.
The problem that I encountered is
that, although the initial experience came relatively easily, as soon as the
biochemical composition of my body returned to normal some four-to-six hours
later, I was no longer experiencing Reality in this way. The filters that ordinarily censor a person’s
reality, whether they like it or not, came back full-force. Yes, the experience was massively healing and
cathartic. It also allowed me to readily
accept the claims of the sages who came before me because I had seen exactly
what they were talking about. However,
the proverbial diplopia returned; that which causes one to see two suns when
there is really only one. I may have
been able to accept that there is only one thing in the universe and that that
one thing is Consciousness, but that didn’t make it any easier for me to
perceive it.
I had continued my practice, but I
experienced a lot of ups and downs. Eventually
I came across the concept that a Guru is necessary to get someone to this state
and to keep them stable in it. This is
called sahāja saṃādhi, or
effortless/natural absorption in the Divine.
Sure, it’s true that the Guru is inside of you and that, in the state of
being identified with Reality at the transcendental level that I described
above, one is no different from the Guru (or anything else for that
matter). But if one is not perceiving
that for themselves then, naturally, this is not perceived to be the case. Ramana Maharshi often used to say that the
inner Guru and the outer Guru are both necessary: The outer Guru pushes the mind inward while
the inner Guru pulls awareness toward it from within.
So I went and found a Guru. What I found is that performing the sādhanā, or practice, that he prescribed
caused me to draw his Grace. Grace can
be thought of as a subtle and intelligent energetic force that triggers a chain
reaction, propelling one toward the awareness of unconditioned Reality. In the Guru’s transmitting and the seeker’s receiving
his Grace, mental conditioning is burned off, Kuṇḍalinī is awakened and drawn upward, attachments and other
unnecessary things fall away, and more.
Furthermore, all of this happens at a rate exponentially greater than
when one performs sādhanā without the
aid of the Guru.
I have been working with my Guru for
three years now. I’m not there yet, but
what I have found is that my baseline level of awareness is much closer to the
experience of enlightenment that I described above. I no longer feel like a pendulum, swinging
from the high heights of the most transcendent bliss, back into the hellish
depths appearing to be as cut off from That as can be. Additionally, bits and pieces of that state
regularly flash forth. It’s kind of like
a large diamond with many faces. The
light catches a part of it and attention is drawn to that brilliant
reflection. When the light catches it
differently, another facet is illumined and so that is where one’s attention
goes. This just happens spontaneously
while going about one’s daily routine.
You can be at work, watching TV, or arguing with a family member and
suddenly everything is the bliss of being and perceiving only Consciousness-absolute.
There is nothing in life to
accomplish but this. The beauty of this
proposition is that one need not do anything fundamentally different from what
they would be doing anyway. Yes, there
is a certain degree of self-effort involved.
Certain exercises, like seated meditation and mantra repetition, to give
a couple of examples, should be worked into one’s routine. However, this doesn’t mean that there is not
room for everyday life. It doesn’t mean
one needs to adopt another culture or way of dressing. One does not need to establish themselves as
different or weird. This is a completely
practical, completely natural, and completely life-positive expression of one’s
own personal evolution. One continues to
live life as normal. The only thing that
changes is the reason for doing so.
