by nielskunze on November 20, 2014
(Time Was excerpt by Wishbone Ash from their 1972 album Argus)
It’s easy to spend nearly fifty years close to nature and think that surely you must have seen it all. But then nature manages to delight and surprise nevertheless.
At the very onset of the cold weather– nearly two weeks ago– there was a tiny skiff of snow to kick it off. Since then there has been no further precipitation. However, there has been an ongoing accumulation of crystals, crystals and more crystals!
Remember Superman’s home in the northern arctic? Well this is the crystal palace of the ‘Superman of the Faeries.’ How does nature go about creating such unlikely things?
Over the last dozen days or so, whatever moisture there is has been pulled from the air and crystallized into stunning formations. Complex crystal cities have formed everywhere!
Here, you can see the initial scaffolding being magically erected atop the brand new ice sheets where the river has begun to spill its banks.
The river is really outdoing itself, standing fully three feet above its seasonal banks, carving channels through its own frozen body.
Whole islands stand submerged in fields of ice.
Liquid sapphire pools both mock and beckon my warm-blooded sensibilities.
And unable to match the rising frequencies reverberating through the new crystal cities, Yaldabaoth– the demiurge– gets caught in his own underworld matrix…
And meanwhile, plump songbirds look on from above, pretending to be christmas tree ornaments.
This is such an enchanted place– this Earth, this time, this transition…
Something is rerouting and crystallizing within all of us… and its reflection is perfectly stunning!
by nielskunze on November 17, 2014
(excerpt from Moonchild by King Crimson from their 1969 debut album In the Court of the Crimson King)
“For many, freedom’s full measure lies in being free from the very desire to ever colour outside of the lines provided.”
There’s something inherently subtle about the daytime moon. And when it ‘speaks’ its message is oft sublime. I pondered her opening line at length before venturing a reply.
“That sounds very much like the ‘sanity’ offered in lobotomies.”
“Indeed. Limitations are oft embraced as comforts in an unnaturally truncated life.”
“History’s fractal forest has seemed daunting, unnavigable, irresolvable. And yet its eternal peace and beauty remain undeniable. It’s easy to lose oneself in paradox and contradiction.”
“And now, the way forward is clear to many others. It is still an uphill climb, but Sabaoth playfully hides behind the trees in daylight, spurring you… enticing you onward.”
Every day I climb, joyfully… never treading the same ground twice in Time’s convolutions… and yet the ground is so intimately familiar. I’m reclaiming something lost long, long ago.
“Where do you suppose your power takes root?”
As myriad answers come to mind, I decide to just let the Moon continue whispering subtle illuminations…
“Your power is the very centre of freewill. As the radius of your choices in matters diminish, your circle of power wanes. How have you come to misplace your choices?”
I perceived the question to be rhetorical… and the moon’s telepathic susurrous continued…
“Your power cannot be taken from you– forcibly; your freewill is absolute. A strange freedom is expressed in your choosing to eschew certain choices. You are perfectly free to diminish yourselves… until now you wear a cloak of strange freedom, forgetting your once-immaculate nakedness.
“Nation states corral you by proxy. Representative democracies– as they exist– are will-devouring engines run on the fuel of tacit consent. In the casting of your vote for representation, you invite government to contract on your behalf. Governments are known to entreat with all manner of truncations. You are cowed by leaders who pen you in your own severed power.
“It is a subtle game… but you are becoming wise to the rules and their remedy. Find your sovereignty; restore your free will. Govern thyself in creative willfulness; extricate thyself from the folds and wrinkles of twisted tacit consent. Colour outside of the lines; they were never your drawings anyway…”
I could listen to such sweet whisperings endlessly… and I do.
by nielskunze on November 15, 2014
(Frozen Over by Captain Beyond from their 1972 self-titled debut album)
So cold… and so effing beautiful!
The river flows with ice like a slushy machine in need of repairs.
Downstream it chokes itself in some parody of auto-erotic experimentation… until fully sublimated.
Meanwhile, a clear blue sky vomits endless glitter for a private sparkle party…
…as individual hoodoos try to sneak away into the silence of the backcountry.
Can you imagine if it was left to our mainstream media to report on the goings on in the forest? They’d have us convinced that it’s all a nightmare of struggle and mortal combat in an unforgiving desolation… when the truth speaks of the unmeasurable depth of peace, tranquility and inner reflection.
Sure, violence happens; it underlies the food chain. But it is only the tiniest fraction of the forest’s countenance– a tiny wrinkle in an otherwise peaceful, smiling face.
Lhasa found a fresh rabbit’s foot… and Sitka quickly took it over; Lhasa didn’t mind– she don’t eat that shit!
Then Raven came to visit, swooping and circling just above our heads. He was there to remind us to see with our hearts, not through the lenses of our conditioned fears. He flew so deliberately for us, as though he wished to scoop us all up in order to see what he sees: snapshots of Life still loving itself, enraptured in its own icicle arms, embracing itself in fractal hugs.
“Do you ever grow tired of the view?” he asks nearly every day.
“No,” I answer. “Growth’s movement is never toward boredom or exhaustion.” Growth is a renewal, even in twenty below.
A newcomer circled a moment high above, reticent and shy. The markings under her wings and the band across her tail left us with a delicious mystery. “Who are you?”
I drank from the river as the dogs scooped mouthfuls of snow. We were on our way home… in all directions, always.
by nielskunze on November 14, 2014
Among the Group of about a half dozen administrators (Masters) we each post original content on a pre-selected weekly topic. This week’s topic is “Prayer.” What follows is my contribution for this week’s discussion.
Born and raised among kindly atheists, the word “prayer” never really came up. But closet-spiritualists find novel and creative ways to cloak their prayers in the finery of metaphor and allegory… lest they be caught out by the spectre of merciless “scientism.” Here’s a little prayer I created for humanity’s Now… (But shh, don’t tell anyone! *winks*)
The Mouse in the Maze and His Flying Elephant
(Read-along audio version)
The mouse was born in the maze
…and oh what a maze it was!
It was all he knew–
this being amazed… and confused…
Perhaps for a time he thought
of finding a way out,
But no one he met
had ever found the way–
For if anyone had… well…
they’d… be… out!
So he lived on the government cheese,
and lived as mice will do.
But displeased with such tedium…
deep in the labyrinth… he began to think it through…
Where do I go as I dream?
Perfectly real– the ordeal as I’m in it–
and then upon awakening… denied… unseen.
Clearly. Here. I stand on denial…
I deny… therefore I am not.
…and oh what a knot it was!
Perhaps the dreamer is more real than I,
and I, the schemer he can’t deny…
And then quite suddenly
amidst his mousely ruminations…
He fell abruptly awake into a dream… and…
The illumination of what he’d seen…
seemed so terribly irrelevant,
For what has a mouse to do
with a big old flying elephant?
But the elephant was patient,
and yes, of course… wise.
He waited for the mouse to speak–
a squeak… a pip… perhaps a peep–
before he’d offer his advice.
Who are you? asked the mouse.
Another part of you, said the flying elephant.
But I can’t fly!
And Ellie crashed to the floor.
Must you deny?
Well… I’m a mouse… after all…
And then quite suddenly
amidst his mousely chagrin
The mouse had a fall… within…
again… the labyrinth.
He awoke to a sleepy daze–
the maze in a foggy haze–
had clearly seen some better days,
But the ways of the maze
Can make the most amazing days… crazy…
And a mouse wouldn’t think twice
about the relevance or reality
Of what it might be like to be an elephant…
who denies gravity!
But a mouse’s dreams, tucked
beneath old straw and droppings,
Lie forgotten, forlorn…
Swapping the reel
for these scenes… of scorn… so vile and rotten.
You see, what the mouse didn’t know… was…
Who directs the show?
He never would have guessed
that blessed elephant would confess–
and really seem to understand–
that the flying elephant
was at the mouse’s command.
We are one, spoke Ellie in a dream:
You are free will,
And I am the wisdom to guide you…
through empty and fill… until…
The spirit resides and decides within you…
as you breathe…
so as you are.
So the mouse directed the elephant
toward the tasks that he found relevant
Things with labyrinthian significance–
and utterly meaningless to flying elephants!
For remember wisdom is elegance,
not this floundering in the maze,
And the mouse sometimes wanted done
what wisdom cannot do– amazing things
to impress the kings
and the tigers… at the zoo.
Oh mouse, seize this advantage.
What I see from my vantage–
tomorrow… and you…
the curves in the road,
the lessons and challenge;
Lessen your burden; lighten your load!
Use me according to your own imagination.
…and oh what an imagination it is!
For the mouse thought his thoughts were his,
not this script from beyond the scene–
But where do you think you have been
every time that you dream…
If not escaped from the labyrinth?
Lay to rest this doubt
once and for all…
You’ve known the way out… always…
You fall… asleep…
And we speak… and the hallways
and corridors of your amazement abate…
As finally you realize that I’m yours… truly…
to have a flying elephant is great!
Please come join the discussion on Facebook! (links above)
We also have a website.
And very shortly we will be launching a monthly podcast with a very similar format as the Group page where all the Masters will present original content pertaining to a selected topic and a discussion to follow.
This invitation is offered in the highly unlikely event that you’ve become bored with little ol’ me. Naw, just kidding! Multiple perspectives are instrumental in providing insight for the widest possible audience. Come check us out… and join the Group or the Community as you feel moved.
by nielskunze on November 12, 2014
(Wingful of Eyes by Gong from their 1975 album Shamal)
Longtime readers will recognize the ‘Independently Healthy’ moniker from my archived Newsletters. For many, my health articles were the main reason for tuning in. They’re not a regular part of the monthly missives anymore… but once in a while I still issue brief health statements.
Vitamin D & Immunity
They way I tell people to regard vitamin D is that it is the most basic or foundational activator/support for superlative immunity. In order for our immune systems to even have any chance at functioning properly, there must be adequate vitamin D in circulation… on a continuous basis. You can do everything else perfectly in support of your immune system– rest, exercise, nutrition, etc.– but if there is a chronic lack of vitamin D, all those other factors are severely hampered from delivering their optimal effects. Vitamin D is the special activator; do yourself a favour and include it in your daily regimen.
All those living in northern climes, please realize that the sun’s intensity is not adequate to stimulate proper vitamin D production naturally during the winter months. That means, for instance, that everyone in Canada should be supplementing vitamin D daily for about six months of the year. Additionally, the daily recommended amount (1,000 IU) is merely adequate for preventing diseases like rickets. For total immune function 3,000 to 5,000 IU daily is more like it. The danger of having too much vitamin D lies in the body’s propensity to deposit minerals (inorganic) in places like the arteries– especially calcium– when there is a concurrent lack of vitamin K2. I’ve begun supplementing this year with a new vitamin D patch which includes the proportionate amount of vitamin K2 and 250mg of magnesium as well. So even if I’m getting a little too much vitamin D, the K2 and Magnesium ensure that it doesn’t cause problems over the longterm. (The most common natural source of vitamin K2 is leafy greens.)
Distilled Water… and Detox
I’ve written numerous times about the benefits of distilled water, especially for drawing and flushing unwanted substances from our systems. I’ve been drinking distilled water regularly for about 15 years now. Here’s the minerals that are taken out of a gallon of my tap water through distillation every day:
The opacity in that glass is due to the inorganic minerals dissolved in the water. Generally, our bodies cannot utilize inorganic minerals. We typically utilize minerals which have been incorporated into living tissues of plants and animals; these are organic minerals. Additionally, the inorganic minerals dissolved in all surface water are not merely unusable, they also create problems in our bodies over time, depositing in our organs, arteries and bones. That’s why arteries harden, organs lose functionality and bones become brittle as we age. I would go so far as to say that inorganic minerals are the main culprits in aging us.
Now, many have read or heard that distilled water is dangerous over the longterm. Like I said, I’m 15 years into distilled water at this point and I have no intention of stopping. The (absurd) arguments centre around notions of distilled water being ‘hungry’ water which will leech vital minerals from our tissues; it is also described as ‘dead’ water. I’m not too sure how the same substance can be both hungry and dead! I agree that distilled water is hungry; it will draw inorganic minerals from all the troublesome places they’re typically deposited. That’s very definitely a good thing!
And as for distilled water being dead… just realize that the whole hydrological cycle on Earth is driven by distilled water– evaporation/precipitation. The vast majority of land-based animals rely almost exclusively on distilled water, drinking from puddles, licking the dew from leaves and eating snow in the winter. Think about that last one: for six months of the year, all of the animals around where I live have no option other than snow for meeting their hydration needs. Rain, snow and dew are all distilled water… and they do not cause harm. But of course you’re free to believe whatever you want.
Detoxifying for the New Earth
One thing all the channellers have gotten right is their admonition to cleanse and clear the detritus from the past. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically we need to detoxify for a fresh new start in the emerging paradigm. One of the best strategies in this regard is to eat very pure ‘superfoods’ on an empty stomach daily. (Those who love to argue semantics will claim that “There’s no such thing as superfoods; it’s just a marketing term!” Um, fuck off. There are indeed many highly nutrient-dense foods which easily qualify as superfoods… so there!)
When we provide for our bodies with nutrient-dense foods that contain virtually no fillers, extras or other indigestibles, our bodies just naturally go into detoxification mode. Examples of such foods which I highly recommend include: spirulina, chlorella, pine pollen, marine phytoplankton, etc. I take a squirt of highly concentrated marine phytoplankton (Oceans Alive) every day on an empty stomach. The nutrition provided in that teaspoon of green sludge is superior to just about any full meal you might come up with… and the body has to do virtually nothing in order to utilize it all.
Chlorella and spirulina are especially good at binding with heavy metals and ushering them safely out of our bodies. I’ve been consuming nutritional algae off and on for about twenty years. Every time I take a sizeable dose of chlorella on an empty stomach I can actually smell a strong metallic odour as I’m sitting on the toilet the next day. Find which superfoods work for you and do yourself a huge favour. And just as an extra side note, the common superfoods listed above are so nutrient-dense that they really are extremely cost effective; you’re paying for nutrients, not calories.
And suddenly winter is upon us! I’m hesitant to pull out the big heavy winter boots before I’m knee-deep in snow. I’m still wearing my Vibrams, but I have added toe-socks underneath. Nevertheless, my feet are prone to the cold. Until I make the switch to my winter boots there’s a little ‘trick’ which I continuously utilize during the coldest days to keep my extremities warm. You could call it a meditation or a form of yoga, but what I essentially do is breathe warmth internally into my toes as I’m walking through the snow. I draw a conscious breath from the spot midway between my navel and genitals, hold it there for a few seconds imagining a warm fire igniting that breath, and then as I exhale, I send that warm energy out through my toes and the soles of my feet. Works every time… but again, I’ve been practicing for many years. It’s not as hard or weird as you might think!
This is the time for really connecting with our own bodies in a healthful way. I would suggest talking to your own cells– frequently. Let them know that there is an overarching consciousness which would like to work co-operatively with each of them. Tell your body what kind of physical experience you desire. You may also wish to begin conversing with your food on a regular basis. Firstly, welcome it into your human experience. Then you may wish to speak directly to the nutrients therein contained to provide the very best they have to offer while encouraging any anti-nutrients to simply pass on through without causing harm. Like I’ve said many times recently, get witchy. Try out some basic ‘magic’ and see if you aren’t another catalyst for the re-enchantment of the Earth experience.
by nielskunze on November 11, 2014
“Sweet wind blowing through your sound…
There’s a great wind blowing through your soul…
A great wind blowing through us all…
A great wind blowing through us now…”
(Shamal by Gong from their 1975 album Shamal)
What a difference a day makes! One day I’m picking strawberry flowers and daisies, still eating fresh goji berries, and the next day it’s all frozen over and tinged in white! And… um… cold.
The remains of yesterday’s slain dragons reminds us of a past still shrouded in deep secrecy, but the serrated edge of mountains and hoodoos begins now to cut through the smoke and the mist, showing us our true footing… moving forward…
And in the cracks and crevices of civilization’s battered facade, a thriving energy inveigles itself, telling truth in the House of Lies.
Truth is equally at home in all aspects of illusion, finding purchase on the ledges and footholds of our most loving perceptions.
I had reported on Pack Rat’s nest weeks ago, but the dogs alerted me to the fact that he was home on this day. He was safely out of their reach but not the keen detection of their canine noses.
He had made his home nearly directly above the place where I’d buried the Dream Talisman– the beaver’s tail– at the base of the Purple Cliff. His energy rides the forefront of the wave sweeping through our spacious notions of change. Pack Rat’s energy helps us to thrive even in chaos as we easily see opportunity in the slow destruction of unworkable systems. He is so at home in disorder; it’s really rather enviable!
He’s not the tidiest housekeeper– something to which I easily relate– but ‘home’ is something carried inside– inviolable– no matter the outer conditions… very much like love unconditioned.
And, truth be told, I think he’s rather cute!
by nielskunze on November 10, 2014
When I was young I dreamed of winning the lottery. I imagined the life of ease I could enjoy… and perhaps accomplish a little good along the way…
Thankfully, my soul– my Higher Self, that author of my experience– isn’t a complete idiot! It’s easy to see now, that had I actually won the lottery, I would have essentially wasted my life. But believe me, at the time, I REALLY REALLY wanted to win the lottery… and was convinced of its appropriateness.
Well, it looks like the new global financial system is soon to be rolled out onto the world stage, and with it, the currency revaluation. Holders of dongs and dinars and other choice currencies have been waiting many years for this watershed moment to become the main catalyst for transforming the world. There was an implicit promise that there would emerge– post revaluation– ‘a million new millionaires.’ Sorry folks, but it ain’t gonna happen… at least, not the way you’ve been led to believe.
My recent article Blood Money For Everyone pissed you off, I know. In it, I briefly described the ‘re-phoenixing’ of the system and how it might look:
“We’ll all be taken to the top of a very high fiscal cliff. Some smooth-talking huckster will stand before us presenting the new financial system. Most of us won’t understand a word he’s saying, but one or two of us might notice that the new system metaphorically resembles a big ol’ clunky rock. With great fanfare, the huckster will explain how this rock-like thing which he’s calling the new equitable system will carry us all into a golden age of prosperity for all. And then, very dramatically, he will launch it. And we will all watch it fly from the very high fiscal cliff. “But excuse me sir,” a child will speak up. “It’s not really flying so much as it’s rather plummeting,” she’ll point out. “Nonsense!” cries the huckster again and again, right up until the moment that it crashes on the ground, proving once again that gravity– and all Universal Law– works… without any need for enforcement.”
Well, now it looks as though it might be a tad less dramatic than even that. It is currently scheduled to be the non-event of the century. The rates at which the currencies revaluate will be low– very low. There will be virtually no new overnight millionaires. Don’t worry, you will still recoup your initial investment… and a very small return… as the universe essentially says “Thank you, please try again.”
Allow me to offer some perspective on the situation. All the people who invested heavily in various choice currencies speculated on massive returns. Such an occurrence would be truly awesome– millions of new millionaires– many of whom want to do good in the world. That would be a very positive event indeed! And you’re expecting it to be delivered by the bad guys, the controllers, the manipulators. Think about that. Yeah, as if the powers-that-be are going to voluntarily provide the means for humanity’s emancipation!
No, they will very quietly implement the new system, becoming Basel III compliant with an asset-backed system of currencies. It’ll hardly even make the news. The vast majority of the population won’t even know that a new system has been implemented… because it won’t affect their lives in the least. It’ll be a total non-event. And what do you suppose the main asset backing the new currencies will be? Yes, that’s right, us– humanity. We are the value in the system– as we’ve always been. But we won’t be able to access and utilize that value; it’ll belong to the system. It’s the very same slavery system as before with no significant difference.
Again, don’t worry; it won’t fly… at least, not for very long. You’re not going to put up with this bullshit. You’re going to scream from the rooftops “This isn’t what I was promised!” All the would-be millionaires will finally get together and raise a royal stink. You’ll have to. Don’t you see? That’s how the universe is arranging things during this transition. NOTHING will be freely given to you– especially from the old system, or the old guard presiding over the ‘new’ system. This is a time of total self-empowerment. If you want something, you have to manifest it. And here’s a hint: you won’t manifest a damn thing if your whole plan is to wait for the old energy to deliver your life of ease on a silver platter. Time to get real.
This will be a very hard lesson for many. This is the deepest transformation the Light Creation has ever undergone. You will be pushed to your limits by world events, and the intrepid ones will move with grace beyond those old limits. Expect nothing within the old system to give you anything for free. It’s all about transparency. Every step forward will be taken in full consciousness; anything less just won’t fly.
So there’s going to be a whole bunch of pissed-off people shaking fistfuls of dongs (sorry, couldn’t resist), and they’re going to be out of their minds to get a better deal. And that’s where we have to watch for the next saviourship model to be rolled out. We might even expect our first encounters with the Galactics coming to save the day. After all, this ain’t the shite Saint Germain promised!
Beware the saviour who fails to fully empower. Anyone granting free gifts is not your friend– not even Santa.
Oh, and as for the arrests… The only ones I suspect will be arrested are the most unscrupulous of the currency dealers. The most obvious of the currency scammers will be arrested… but that’s all. Anything more widespread and comprehensive will have to come from the collective impetus of humanity itself. The White Knights are really powerless without us. Do you see how we’re being manipulated by events to finally come together and demand all that we’ve been promised? It’s perfect, really.
Now let’s watch with discernment and exquisite awareness how this all unfolds in the immediate future…
by nielskunze on November 9, 2014
There’s just so very much going on right now… just out of view… just below the surface…
(Love Is Like Oxygen by Sweet from their 1978 album Level Headed; I had to pull this version from YouTube because mine is somewhere on a cassette tape and I wasn’t going to spend the time looking through hundreds of tapes for a crappy version.)
I dreamt last night that the Shadow Government was being arrested. (But I’m not David Wilcock.) It all proceeded very orderly except for a few unexpected suicides…
In other news, the Pope in an address on October 27th disclosed that the discovery of extraterrestrial civilizations in the near future would fit in with the ‘Vatican’s understanding of God’s Plan.’
The ITCCS has been blowing the whistle on numerous clergy caught in the act of child rape and blood sacrifice rituals according to eyewitness testimony.
Rod Class has been arrested for systematically exposing the deep fraud of the judiciary in the US and more than a hundred other nations under the guise of the War Measures Act and Treating with the Enemy.
The rumblings surrounding the global financial reset are reaching a new crescendo according to multiple, multiple sources.
The US government, its western allies and their media mouthpieces are still accusing Russia of everything they themselves are guilty of and have been for many years in their final push toward global hegemony.
It seems as though a great deal is suddenly and simultaneously coming to a head…
Meanwhile, out in the forest, we are having an easy time lifting ourselves above the confusion and the fray.
The dogs are doing their level best to devour the last remains of our murderous past.
And it’s all for the love of a simple breath of fresh air…
by nielskunze on November 8, 2014
(Author-narrated version with musical accompaniment by Earth Trybe)
Jake stood there barefoot– always barefoot– in his shorts and t-shirt, with his back against the cliff. I stood facing him, a few feet away, with the river at my back. He had his sunglasses on, and from the tilt of his head it appeared that he was looking past me up into the sky. He started laughing– heartily, but I couldn’t hear it over the rush of the river.
For eleven months of the year it’s just a creek carrying the luscious emerald waters from the glacial runoff of the Dutch-Findley snowcaps. Towards the end of May and into June, however, our beautiful little creek turns into a raging monster of turbulent chocolate milk, carrying seasonal snowmelt and debris. It was May 30th, the height of the runoff.
I was fiddling with my backpack at my feet as it kept trying to scurry down the embankment to test the ferocity of the river that day. Had it managed to escape my vigilance it would have been swept away in an instant; the water was moving so fast. I plunked it down hard again, kind of grinding it into the gravel of a small ledge. It seemed content to stay put for the moment.
As I straightened up, returning my attention to Jake, he suddenly leveled his gaze on me. His laughter stopped abruptly. With his right hand he whipped the sunglasses aside. With his left he reached out and grabbed me. His fist held tightly a handful of my hair right on the top of my head. He pulled me close so that his face was only a few inches from mine. He stared into my eyes with such seriousness!
I was perplexed. Then, just as abruptly, he released me, leaned back against the cliff, donned his sunglasses again, and laughed. Now I was really perplexed. I wanted to ask him what the hell that was all about, but it didn’t seem like the time for words. I stood a moment, dumbfounded.
Then, Jake repeated the whole procedure. He grabbed me by the hair, pulling me close with his left hand as his sunglasses dangled again from his right. He stared into my eyes with such insistence… but honestly, the message escaped me. He was looking from a far-off place, yet he was only inches away. This time when he leaned back to laugh hysterically from behind his shades, I quietly sidled away.
Mitch was just a few meters downstream sitting on a wide ledge of the embankment, rolling a joint. “What was that all about?” he asked as I joined him.
“Not a clue.” We both looked back to where Jake had been standing up against the cliff. He was moving now, clawing his way in bare feet along a narrow ledge of the cliff, upstream. He was heading out to The Point.
We had each taken our turn already out on The Point, watching and feeling the chaos of the river as its full force slammed into the side of The Point. The Point was a unique feature where a portion of the cliff along the river jutted out sharply into the middle of the stream. There was a flattop platform on The Point where a person could comfortably stand to watch the incredible violence slamming into its upstream side. Entire trees mercilessly stripped of their limbs bobbed in the back-eddy pools no longer able to find their way to the current flowing around the tip of The Point.
To get to The Point, one has to first swing from the riverbank to the ledge on the cliff. For as long as I’ve been visiting this place there has always been a steel cable anchored part way up the cliff allowing adventurers to do just that. The thing is… that once you’ve swung yourself over to the ledge, if you don’t throw the cable back to the riverbank, no one can follow you. The cable stays on the ledge side instead, until you swing back. Jake had successfully maneuvered himself out onto The Point… and we couldn’t follow. He had the cable.
That’s okay. We were about to smoke a joint anyway. Mitch was just gathering the last of the crumbs of pot on his lap, dropping them into the rolling paper.
What happened next was incomprehensible– then, and still now. We heard a big sploosh from the direction of The Point like Jake might’ve tossed a boulder into the current. We immediately turned to look. It was no boulder; it was Jake. He was in the river!
In the matter of about a second and a half he surfaced right in front of us and quickly swept on by. I yelled “Jake!” but it was the oddest thing. He seemed stunned. He didn’t struggle. He made no effort to swim. His head and shoulders were well above the water, but he almost appeared to be unconscious. I took off at a balls-out run.
All three of us were trained and certified lifeguards, which just added to the surreality of the situation. “This can’t be happening!” I frantically thought. At that time, I had been hobbled by an ACL tear in my left knee; I had difficulty walking properly. But in that precise moment, I ran like the wind, dashing through a maze of river stones and over logs and trees. I sprinted to the next bend in the river to catch up.
That was the last time I saw Jake alive. I could see him in the middle of the current still. He disappeared behind a pile of logs and branches on the riverbank between us. And then, I never saw him again. Of course I kept running, up and down the riverbank, searching, but to no avail. He had disappeared.
Mitch caught up to me. “Did you get him?” I quickly explained how he had disappeared. “Shit!” said Mitch, and he took off downstream.
I went back to the pile of logs and branches on the riverbank where I’d last seen him, thinking that perhaps he had gotten hung up on a tree protruding into the current. Nothing.
My heart was racing, but my mind was absolutely flipping out. I’ve only really ever lost it once in my life; I mean, really lost it– that moment of total overwhelm, of unmitigated insanity. This was it. Both of my hands made knotted fists in my hair as I turned my face to the sky. I yelled some primal growling, howling, menacing curse in the language of utter disbelief for this moment. I literally stood screaming and tearing at my hair. For just a few seconds I was a complete madman.
That brought Mitch racing back. “Did you find him!” No, I hadn’t. And then we both knew that we weren’t going to see Jake alive again… not this day, not ever.
That’s a terrible moment, but once it passes, once the reality of it has been accepted, a strange calm settles in. You just go about doing the things that need to be done.
That night and over the course of the next few days I had a vision which kept repeating in my mind’s eye. It was like a short video tape loop had been inserted into my brain. I’m not usually one prone to visions, but this one was rather insistent. I kept seeing Jake on The Point, back to the river. His spirit flies out through the top of his head as his body falls like a stone into the river. It repeated over and over every time I closed my eyes.
It’s been twelve years now since that day, and although there’s yet a lot more to tell, I still wonder over and over again “What happened that day?”
by nielskunze on November 8, 2014
(For the author-narrated audio version, click HERE.)
We were snot-nosed shamans hoping to find authenticity in some parallel universe; we wanted to discover what was really real.
It wasn’t at all that we were dissatisfied with life. No, we were really stoked. We were thrilled with the further prospects of these adventures. It was just mundane life– the presumed routine of education, career, family, and all which that entails– that left us a bit flat and disinterested at times. Jake, the youngest of our trio, explained to his parents over and over again that he was just exploring his options. That’s why, despite his obvious academic prowess, he had elected not to go to university at this time.
No, there were mind-melting, reality-bending, personality-shattering experiences to be had, and we three had made some real headway lately in this regard. Reality is a vagrant… sleeping on park benches, sleeves stuffed with crumpled newspapers… insulating against the cold unknown. We all know the sleeper– too well. Sometimes he really stinks, and his snoring gets too loud, but just so as long as he remains asleep we can cope. Ah, predictability… the basis for all civility.
But should Reality be awakened, then look out, look around, look within! Nothing is the same… or if there are a few elements of familiarity, suddenly they’ve been hurled into an alien context. Their meanings are nothing like what they once were. We return to primordial Adam, naming the strange elements in a neurotic god’s garden. We are reoriented, re-identified as a sudden spike in an otherwise flatlined life. So for most, it seems, it is best to just let Reality sleep a little bit longer.
There was an online company called JLF Catalog, purveyors of “Fine Poisonous Non-Consumables.” At the time, we thought they were about the most interesting company in the world. Before you could purchase any of their exotic items, customers were each required to read a disclaimer onto the company’s answering machine, promising that they would not “eat, drink, swallow, snuff, suck, smoke, inject, absorb transdermally, or insert anally” any of their products. Furthermore, every label stated that each of their products were of a “non-consumptive, non-ingestive, non-culinary, non-food, non-medicinal nature; therefore, no specific success or desired outcome is guaranteed.” And finally, the “other things NOT guaranteed by JLF: Everything, except correct identity of materials.”
So what exactly did JLF sell? Mostly plant bits. They carried a huge inventory of the very many “teacher plants” which had been traditionally used throughout the world in aiding shamans and seekers in their sacred quests and forays into non-ordinary reality. The number of plants that are able to alter man’s consciousness is incredibly vast, and JLF, it seemed, was exceptionally good at sourcing them out and offering them for sale to a curious world. None of the things they sold were scheduled substances; it was all perfectly legal.
I was a longtime customer of JLF. I purchased many things. They had a copy of my voice reading their disclaimer on their answering machine. I received their periodic packages always resealed with that special yellow tape which reads “Opened by customs.” Nothing was ever confiscated, though. Like I said, it was all perfectly legal.
Most of the things that shamans consume in order to disorder their common realities taste somewhat less than delicious. Alkaloids tend to be bitter, and the more interesting or discombobulating the effect of the alkaloid, the more vile its stain on the palate. At least, that was our experience. And then the procedures for boiling down the fetid teas or otherwise extracting the magic with industrial solvents would leave wannabe shamans unsure and wary of that brew, slurry, globule, resin or powder. “Is this what it’s supposed to look like? Smell like? Taste like? Yuck! And will it have the desired effect?”
Then JLF started selling pure compounds. Proper laboratories with all their fancy gear and well-honed procedures were employed to render little packets of pure crystalized thaumaturgy. The guesswork in dosages and potency were eliminated. The strange smell of half-assed alchemy was purged from my home, much to the relief of my roommates. Now we had something… something formidable!
Those tiny packets of free-base crystals refined the psychedelic arts to a haiku of preparation for a Homeric odyssey of epic tripping. The convenience was grand, but there was a downside tradeoff. The compounds were indeed pure and natural, the molecular champions of the entheogenic world, but they had been lifted from their living matrix, essentially divorcing them from the complex natural world which had spawned them. They were isolates, bodies cut from a larger spiritual tapestry… much like ourselves.
The particular compounds involved in our current narrative were those two elements comprising the Amazonian brew called ayahuasca. There are always two components to ayahuasca. Traditionally, the jungle vine Banisteriopsis caapi provides the mono amide oxidase inhibitor, while the leaves of the plant Psychotria viridis provide the main hallucinogenic ingredient, dimethyltryptamine or DMT.
Ever since the publication of Dr. Rick Strassman’s book in the nineties, DMT: Spirit Molecule, there has been a robust ongoing discussion on the internet about this most interesting of substances. Any curious reader can easily search for aspects of this discussion, so I won’t repeat much of it here. What is essential to know is that DMT is a powerful dissociative, severing mind from body… consciousness from familiar reality. Under the influence of DMT a user can experience virtually anything, and it is very unlikely to resemble the commonplace or mundane. Also, DMT is not orally active.
DMT is produced in our own brains all the time. It doesn’t affect us psychedelically because we also produce an enzyme called mono amide oxidase (MAO) that very efficiently breaks down tryptamines in our systems. Only by taking an MAO inhibitor can DMT be made orally active. Hence, the two components of the ayahuasca brew.
We had purchased the legal version of pure DMT which is the methoxyated analogue (5MEO-DMT) and the pure MAO inhibitors harmine and harmaline, isolated from Syrian rue (Peganum harmala) seeds. The DMT was pure white, and the MAOI was bright yellow. Only very tiny amounts were needed of each.
Using Jake’s milligram scale I measured out the appropriate amounts of each three times and deposited them into gelatin capsules. Then I thought to myself “What if the MAOI doesn’t kick in before all the DMT is hacked apart by the enzyme?” I measured and filled three more capsules of just 5MEO-DMT. If the combo pill didn’t work, these secondary caps would surely do the trick once the MAOI had been given ample time to activate. The amount of substance in each capsule was truly minuscule, hard to believe that it was capable of doing anything at all.
We’d all had prior experience with DMT. The pure crystalline powder can be smoked with a carrier, delivering a sudden surge of the spirit molecule past the blood-brain barrier in an instant. The effects are devastatingly immediate, hardly allowing the user time to lay the pipe aside before beginning to overwhelm all normal cognition. And then the trip lasts for only three to five minutes before our enzymes gobble up the tripping agent. An additional twenty minutes of euphoria then usually ensues as the user begins to reacclimatize to familiar life after just having visited what is most commonly described as “the other side of death.” Pretty much anything can occur on the other side of death.
The brutal transcendentalism of a smoked DMT trip cannot be accurately conveyed to those who have never tried it. It is utterly world-shattering. The fact that reality can be so thoroughly disassembled instantaneously tends to be somewhat disconcerting. Fearful and controlling persons should not even consider such a trip; it would likely devolve into a nightmarish scenario which would have to run its course. And five minutes of hell can seem an eternity in a realm where time ceases to exist altogether. We were experienced… and now we were looking for a gentler ride into that other realm.
Ayahuasca, the Amazonian teacher-healer, is the sacred and powerful tool of knowledgeable shamans. Its use is attended with much ritual and ceremony. The shamans of the Amazon claim that ayahuasca has a spirit of its own– a special spirit from the plant kingdom. This spirit is a guide, sometimes wholly benevolent, sometimes a dispenser of tough love. One of the common effects of imbibing the traditional brew is that of a purgative. Vomiting is not uncommon.
We three were keen to forego the vomiting bit. The pure compounds of our pharmahuasca was sure to spare us. What we failed to consider, however, was that the spirit of ayahuasca also would not be attending our adventure, as it had already been distilled out in some laboratory somewhere. We would not have the guidance and protection of a truly knowledgeable shaman keeping us safe either. We knew some of the dangers… but somehow we managed to convince ourselves that they couldn’t possibly apply to us. We were longtime believers in psychedelic adventuring…
And I still have difficulty believing what happened that day.
More information about the traditional use of ayahuasca and its recent infiltration into western society is provided in the following documentary.