Organised Religion and the Limits on Gnosis

Tripped up by Holiness: Dr. Rick Strassman

Rick Strassman has turned up before in Pale Green Vortex. In 'Bring on the New' (October 6th, 2011), he was cited as an example of somebody educated within the scientific orthodoxy who was forced to revise his world-view, based upon rational materialism, as a result of his own scientific investigations. In some respects, the most remarkable aspect of his research - into the effects of DMT (the 'spirit molecule') in the early 1990s, if you recall - was not the testimony of his subjects who volunteered to take this powerful psychedelic. Even more noteworthy was the way he actually succeeded in obtaining U.S. government approval for his research in the first place, the first officially recognised of its type for twenty years. And, secondly, that throughout this entire period Strassman was a practising Buddhist. It is this latter aspect, the interface between his Buddhist life and the DMT research, that is most revealing here....

Strassman first came across the U.S. Zen monastery with which he was to become affiliated in 1974 through a meditation retreat ('I felt as if I had arrived home' - yes, a familiar feeling!). In classic Zen fashion, his main practice was to 'just sit', though he substantially augmented his understanding of the mind by means of teachings such as those on the Abhidharma, a catalogue and analysis of different types of mental states, received from the Nyingma Institute of Tibetan Buddhism in Berkeley, California. He later ran a Zen meditation group in his home; underwent a lay ordination into Zen Buddhism; was married at the Zen monastery in 1990. In other words, he was the 'real deal', a serious and sincere practitioner, not at all an armchair Buddhist.

Strassman's approach to his research in psychedelics was accordingly infused with his Buddhist practice: how he would adopt the inner attitude of 'just sitting' while attending his volunteers' sometimes existentially-challenging DMT experiences; assisting those same volunteers to let go of the contents of their mind if they became stuck; and so on. The crossover between his research and Buddhism was further pointed up when he discovered that the majority of people involved in the Zen monastery had initially been propelled in that direction by their experiences with psychedelics.

Over the years of his research, Rick kept informed of progress his trusted monk friends, as well as seeking out their advice on occasion. To begin with, all was well. Come 1994, however, personal doubts about the value of the research were growing, and circumstances led to his moving to Canada. There he attended the local, monastery-affiliated Zen group, where he met Venerable Gwendolyn, with whom he discussed the research project. A week after the meditation retreat, he was surprised to receive a phone call from Gwendolyn. 'I was sick for three days after talking to you........ I called the abbot who, as you know, is near death. This is the first issue he has taken a personal interest in for over a year. He and I have talked, as I did with other senior monks. We have decided you must stop your research immediately......' A catalogue of accusations was harshly addressed at Strassman by Gwendolyn and others within the monastic community. Strassman was eager to discuss, but 'none of (my) attempts at enlarging the dialogue met with any success. What was going on?'

The end came when, in autumn 1996, Strassman wrote an article for 'Tricycle' magazine, a prominent western Buddhist publication, entitled 'DMT and the Dharma'. Among other things, he suggested that members of the psychedelic community might benefit from the discipline and structure afforded by Buddhism. At the same time, certain Buddhist practitioners, dedicated but with only limited success in meditation over the years, could conceivably gain assistance from a carefully-organised psychedelic session to accelerate their practice.

The nastiness escalated; anybody wishing to detail its course should read up for themselves. How Strassman, manifesting in his suggestions those most Buddhist of virtues helpful speech and compassion for his fellow human beings, was treated is both salutary and shameful. But for Rick, what was happening began to become clear. The abbot was dying, and wanted to leave his teachings unsullied by controversy. Even the monks, those former users of psychedelics, who Strassman had once treated as confidants, were up for promotion in the ranks, and similarly wished to appear clear, clean, and pure ('Who was the most zealous defender of the teaching?'). It was imperative to 'prevent mistakes from being made in the name of Buddhism'. It's what I, less charitably, call the stink of organised religion. As Strassman says 'Holiness had won out over truth. The particular brand of Buddhism was no different from any other organisation whose survival depended upon a uniformly accepted platform of ideas.'

Holiness winning out over truth? In the Catholic Church maybe, and among the more rigid orthodoxies of Islam. But in Buddhism? Aren't Buddhists nice people, striving selflessly towards the Enlightenment achieved by Shakyamuni Buddha 2500 years ago? Well, sometimes, it appears....

My conclusion, based upon reasoning, personal observation, and direct experience, is that, the moment any 'tradition of awakening' becomes reified into a formalised structure and hierarchy, its integrity stands to be compromised. That is not to say that there aren't individuals within those organisations who are fantastic folk, seriously motoring along the sacred path. But when the religious instinct comes to roost within a formalised context, it will inevitably encounter the pitfalls and distractions inherent to that approach.

Buddhism is, typically, a subtle example. While Catholicism, for instance, is structured in a simple hierarchical pyramid of authority and control, with the Pope at the top and the multitude of ordinary sinners at the bottom, Buddhism is best considered as multicentric. A web of schools, sects, and traditions has grown up over the years. Yet each is its own little formalised pyramid with its own agenda that, to varying degrees, concerns continuity, corporate survival, group identity, and appearance to society as a whole, as well as it does personal liberation.

Let's take the example of the Dalai Lama. A few naughty websites aside, the consensus is that he is a great guy, always talking up compassion, peace, patience, and all sort of worthy stuff, invariably with a cheeky smile on his face. But take a step back and consider how totally compromised the fellow really must be! Given his status in the political arena and role as spiritual leader for the people of Tibet, the number of things he can say or seriously allow himself to think is probably outweighed by those that are off-limits. Take a piece of paper and make a quick list of the viewpoints he will not be able to have. Is this really a recipe for the great liberation of Enlightenment? For sure, this is one dignitary who won't be recommending the integration of Buddhism and DMT in a hurry......

Then there is the small matter of personal experience. It is not my intention to belittle the undoubted benefits I accrued through my involvement over more than two decades - at first wholehearted and enthusiastic, later on less so - with a particular Buddhist organisation in the U.K. But there again I encountered a dynamic that is subtle yet clear. In retrospect, I can say that my experience was of a constant uneasy alliance between 'the development of the individual' on the one hand, and 'the needs of the movement' (the organisation) on the other. Over the years, an inordinate amount of time and energy has gone into trying to create that 'uniformly accepted platform of ideas', as Strassman so brilliantly puts it. With the wisdom of hindsight, I can affirm that there were times when my own best spiritual interests were sacrificed for the 'greater good of the needs of the organisation'. More than a several times was I exorted to 'give the benefit of the doubt' when I questioned the wisdom of some edict from those apparently more experienced than me. Sadly, I suspect that I succumbed to the great 'benefit-giving' teaching myself on a number of occasions, when speaking to relative newcomers. I apologise to anyone whose intelligence I may have insulted in this way.

Rather unkindly, maybe, I have been known to wonder whether, had certain individuals put the same effort into their personal practice as they have into creating systems, elucidating principles, and evolving all manner of processes that protect people from the thornier reality of actually working things out for themselves, they might be fully-fledged bodhisattvas by now. As it is, in an echo of Strassman's Zen group, the head of the Order appears, in this late stage of his life, to be greatly concerned with expounding and clarifying the platform of ideas that he would like to be as universally accepted as possible, and which he is anxious to be seen as his legacy.

The main hope, I feel, for the future of this Order as a genuine vehicle for awakening and liberation lies with those members - some friends of mine included - with sufficient experience and maturity to cast an eye over these more formalised aspects before just getting on with their own walking of the sacred path.

For me, things could easily have been far worse. Extreme disempowerment is something I avoided, but it can be the sorry bedfellow of formalised hierarchy in religion. In 1976, during my quest for a suitable Buddhist group to get involved with, I attended a three-week retreat at the then newly-established Manjusri Institute in north-west England. This was the real deal, with proper Tibetan lamas, and I intended to move there and get stuck in immediately afterwards. The retreat proved to be fairly rigorous in a rather uptight way, including a week of doing the monkish thing of one meal per day, with no food at all after midday. One evening, in the midst of our endeavours, an extremely strong atmosphere manifested in the shrine room; many of us, me included, were well and truly 'blissed out'. I was quietly horrified the following morning, however, when all the talk was of how the lamas must have been beaming down really strong energy from their quarters above the shrine room. Er, excuse me, but what about all our blood, sweat, and tears shed over the past fortnight in pursuit of our spiritual ideals? That, apparently, counted for nothing, and I realised that this gurucentric stuff was not only deluded but downright dangerous. So certain had I been previously that this would become my spiritual home, that I had given a good portion of my post-commune savings to the Institute. However, I could not go ahead with the move. This was no place for me. I went to London instead, to walk the gold-paved streets with the group I have written about above.

A side issue to emerge from this article is how it points up the 'anarcho' element in the anarcho-shamanism of Pale Green Vortex. Taken in its more serious meaning, 'anarchism' denotes a minimisation of formal and organised hierarchy. It emphasises that direct and unique contact with the sacred, the divine, our authenticity, or whatever, is more likely outside the constraints of organised, 'officialised' groupings. One reading of the history of religion over the past 5000 years or more involves the progressive removal of the possibilities for direct experience of gnosis from the general populace. At best, it could be mediated by members of a priestly class (who, at worst, turned out to be self-serving bullies). Those who claim that the context of a formalised organisation is necessary for personal awakening are, frankly, speaking through their hat. My admiration extends to someone like James Hillman, whose work has profoundly influenced many people, but who strenuously and persistently refused to accede to the formation of a James Hillman Institute or any other reification of Hillmanesquerie. It is not uncommon to hear the refrain nowadays that the day of the guru and the cult is over. I tend to agree.

There is a second side-show elucidated by the anarchism in anarcho-shamanism. Historically, shamanic techniques have not always been used for the good. Access to other dimensions has been attained with the aim of getting one over on your neighbour, for taking out a rival, for power and domination; black magic, in common parlance. It is important to recognise this dark side to shamanism, if only to acknowledge its existence then move on. 'Anarcho' connotes a lack of hierarchical power games since it connotes minimising hierarchical power. It has no truck with this kind of stuff. Its concerns are with healing and, above all else, gnosis. It is to this that Pale Green Vortex is primarily dedicated.

All quotes in this piece from 'DMT: The Spirit Molecule' by Rick Strassman, M.D.

Dark Unveilings on the Monadhliath

Photos: Near the Allt Duine; trying to protect the Allt Duine.

Bit of a long piece, this one; I've divided it into two parts. Thanks for reading.

Part One: Dark Unveilings

Elegant and simple as it is comprehensive, 'The Gates of Awakening' is Neil Kramer's map and model of the process that comes under a whole variety of headings: 'finding yourself', 'walking the spiritual path' - you get the idea. The Gates are four in number, to be opened both successively and simultaneously. First up is 'engagement', characterised by an enthusiastic recognition of the 'subjects that really matter' in this world, followed by the study and other forms of investigation that are the natural consequence of this initial realisation. Second come the 'unveilings', which are of two types. Look behind the curtain and you can find the 'Light Unveilings': that the universe is essentially magical, formed of different densities of energy; that all phenomena are interconnected and inseparable; that consciousness creates reality; and so on. But take another peek behind the barriers to deeper perception of what is really going on, and you will encounter the 'Dark Unveilings'. Which is where we come in today......

The Dark Unveilings reveal the other side of the fact that things are not the way they seem. These may include uncovering the roles of illuminist groups and other unelected groups with a globalist agenda, such as the Bilderbergers; the significance of PSYOPs, media propaganda, disinformation, and the rest. It extends over a range of phenomena, from the highly visible - politicians and other public figures - through the realms of geopolitics and parapolitics, to the more fundamental realisation that this entire system of hierarchical organisation and control is itself a manifestation of consciousness; specifically, a particular form of consciousness, a main feature of it being its attempt to contain, to restrict human consciousness to a certain (low) level.

Among people variously engaged with alternative/spiritual things who I am aware of, three broadly different stances are taken with regard to the Dark Unveilings. There are those who are fully cognisant of the machinations involved, but have incorporated this understanding within a wider view of the nature and potential of the universe. This is, I suggest, the place to be. Then there are those sincere and serious practitioners who are either ignorant of the Dark Unveilings, or fail to see their relevance. The western Buddhist movement with which I was once engaged seems to be in this situation, in terms of its public face and activities at least. This I find curious -an unjustified sentiment, since I was in precisely the same position until a few years ago...... But nowadays I find it a significant missing piece of the jigsaw of consciousness. Buddhism overflows with notions such as 'mind is primary', 'Mind Only', 'Our life is the creation of our mind' (verse one of the central Buddhist text, the Dhammapada). So to fail to acknowledge how the minds of human beings are put on by a system intended to contain and deceive - to mould the way our minds are created - and to see that in operation on a daily basis, all strikes me as an omission. Particularly since that system itself is, on a deeper level, a form or level of consciousness. Buddhism might try to encase all this within 'the workings of samsara', but it is too abstract to simply leave it at that. To properly understand some things, it is necessary to examine them precisely and closely, through the lens of concrete examples.

And then, finally, there are those who, often fearlessly, have uncovered layer upon layer of the 'Dark Unveilings', but have got stuck there. This is not a good place to be at all. Ultimately, darkness breeds darkness. Like the process of personal psychotherapy, the task of revealing the shady machinations perpetrated by and through certain human beings is endless. By itself, it will get us nowhere; certainly no solution offers itself on that same level. We need to incorporate and move impeccably on.

My personal gateway into the Dark Unveilings was, strange as it may seem, through windfarms. One of my aims on moving from outer London to highland Scotland in 2005 was to extricate myself, in part at least, from the artificial environment of the Big City. On arriving in the Highlands I was disturbed to see these enormous metal-and-plastic whirling structures appearing in wild and upland places. The general consensus propagated on television and in the newspapers was that large-scale windfarms were an essential ingredient if we were to avoid catastrophic human-created global warming. If it was indeed true that polar bears, Pacific islanders, and the rest of us, could be saved with a few turbines on the hills, that would be a sacrifice worth making, I reckoned. However, just to be sure, I decided to do a bit of research. Surprise, surprise: what I began to discover was that the reality was not remotely what was depicted in the popular media. I had opened a Pandora's box of lies and deceit, covert agenda, a panoply of little-publicised facts about windfarms. A small difference between the official story and the results of my research I could have stomached. But the disconnect was so great that it could mean only one thing: something else is going on. From here, it was only a step towards investigating the entire human-created global warming theory, and realising that here was another can of worms (Peter Taylor's presentation at the First ARC Convention, Feb 2010, was an important stepping-stone for me in this particular unveiling). And from here it was just another small move to begin to look at the deeper realities of Control System dynamics in general - from its lower levels in visible politics to its (ultimately more interesting and significant) manifestation as a certain form of consciousness.

Part Two: The Monadhliath

All of which led to my standing outside Highland Council headquarters on an icy morning in Inverness two days before the winter solstice. I was not alone: a cluster of good-natured Highland folk were there, along with a male press photographer and a lady from BBC Alba (I think). Our purpose: to let Highland Council (at least those councillors who could bother to turn up) know that we were not impressed with plans to stick a windfarm at Allt Duine, right on the edge (and I mean right on the edge) of Cairngorms National Park. Actually, on the edge of the National Park is the more emotive way to describe this potential catastrophe's location. It's situated on the eastern fringe of the Monadhliath Mountains. These are rounded, moorland-type hills, rather than spiky, dramatic peaks, so they do not get overmuch publicity. One or two books describe them as uninteresting. But there is a fantastic sense of space, of silence, of nature-is-big, on the Monadhliath: in short, a great place for devotees of modern anarcho-shamanism. I have particularly frequented these hills in the autumn, when you can feel like a visitor granted privileged access to different worlds: stags in rut roaring on the hillsides; ptarmigan strutting in their developing white winter coats; if you are really lucky, a mountain hare racing across the scrubby heather near the summits.

An announcement came that the meeting had been postponed until 11 o'clock: the councillors had been bussed off to look at the site of another proposed wind-crime beforehand. So we headed off into town for a coffee and to warm up. 'Stop-trashing-the-Highlands' people I have met are examples of what decent human beings can be. With a palpable love of the natural world of which we are part, more and more of them have a growing sense of the deeper issues shadily informing the windfarm invasion. Deception by governments and energy companies; collusion and corruption; fortunes to be made by the few at the expense of the many; how wild places are being rubbished in the name of wider but often unspoken political agendas. There is an increasingly bizarre disconnect between the global rhetoric on spending cuts, austerity measures, etc, and the millions that continue to get thrown in the direction of an energy technology that is unreliable, unpredictable, expensive, and as green as a red herring. I spoke to one or two people at the Allt Duine gathering who, like me, had no illusions about changing the policies of politicians through our actions. But if even one piece of wild land is saved this ignominy through these efforts, it will have been worthwhile.

While many 'save-the-environment-from-the-environmentalists' people maintain a sense of humour, there are some who are clearly the worse for wear. This is particularly so, maybe, for those unfortunates who have had personal visitations from the intermittently waving machines from hell. Anybody glibly sitting in their armchair saying 'Windfarms are good' should take the time to read the experiences of some people at least who have had turbines foisted on their daily lives. As a moderately sensitive soul, I find it disturbing to meet these people, fraught and drained of lifeblood from fighting an unequal battle against heartless bastards who have made their life a misery. It is, however, imperative to try and avoid ending up like this: doom and despair achieve little. Even John Muir, pioneering conservationist and someone who was not afraid to speak of the sacredness of wild places, succumbed to this particular form of bloodsucking. His vigorous campaigning against the flooding of Hetch Hetchy was unsuccessful; his death from pneumonia was linked by some to his heartbreak over the matter. No. The Dark Unveilings need to take their place within a wider context of light, love, expansion.

I urge any intelligent human being to do their own research into these deeper realities, the Dark Unveilings. In my case, I needed a personal passion to propel me into this endeavour. It is no good to take the mainstream newspapers and television as ones sole source of information; all too often, it is commentary and opinion that is offered up anyway. Personal research is easier than ever, thanks to the internet - I feel we should make the most of it while it exists in its current format. Just start off through a search engine, see where it goes. But you need to go beyond the mainstream sites; look for real reports, reliable data rather than opinion dressed up as something more noble. And learn to discern, and see through the propaganda. Here is a simple example of what I mean by propaganda-dressed-up-as-fact. We are all familiar with the boasts paraded about yet another new windfarm: 'It will produce electricity for up to 40000 households.' Sounds impressive, doesn't it. But stop to reflect that wind is unpredictable, and sometime doesn't blow hard enough to turn the blades on the turbines at all. So it is equally true to state: 'This windfarm will produce enough electricity for as little as a dog kennel.' How come the mainstream media never puts it like that? Why? Why? This is how it works. Simple. Develop your own bullshit detector. And remember: when you watch Fiona Bruce reading the 6 o'clock news on BBC, you are really watching consciousness manifesting in a certain way.

The Highland councillors disembarked from their minibus round the back of the building, thereby avoiding meeting our little group. Still, a victory-of-sorts was declared: they decided that a site visit is in order before a decision can be made. It seems we'll be back.........

James, Thank You.....

I was recently in the throes of writing my previous piece, on Carlos Castaneda. It should have been easy, but turned out to be a real struggle. I reached the section on how our reality is created by the stories that we tell ourselves, when my mind found itself turning in the direction of one James Hillman. Maverick student of Jung, father of modern archetypal psychology, Hillman was the person who first impressed upon me how our life is best read as an ongoing narrative, a fiction. While I had barely cast a glance in the direction of his works over the past three years, in the period previous he had been an enormous guiding presence. I decided there and then to check out what he had been up to recently. The answer, I quickly discovered, was dying. On October 27th of this year, to be precise.

I found myself unexpectedly disturbed by news of James's departure from this material world; unexpected at least given the lack of attention I had paid him in recent times. Yet, from a wider perspective, Hillman can be counted among the dozen or so greatest philosophical, psychological, and spiritual influences on my life to date.

My introduction to Hillman came in a roundabout (yet plausibly inevitable) fashion. Around 1998, in an attempt to find a way out of the cul-de-sac I had led myself up with my practice of Buddhism, I decided to experiment with something else. Shamanic journeying. Once I embarked upon this course of action, quite remarkable things began to happen. During my journeys through the 'lowerworld', as shamanic traditions call it, I found myself participating in all sorts of strange stories, passing through dream landscapes, and encountering all manner of beings human, animal, and 'mythical'. I appeared to be entering an entirely different dimension of existence; only a hair's breadth away and with its own particular coherent reality, yet the door into its magical world seemed normally tightly closed. And participation in this dimension was leading me smoothly out of exclusive identification with the narrow confines of my ego, something which my Buddhist practice, despite its avowed aims, was failing miserably to achieve.

Needless to say, Buddhism as I knew it had nothing to say about the experiences I was having, despite their relevance to the professed goals of Buddhadharma of expanding consciousness beyond the limits of ego concern and identification. In Carl Jung I eventually found somebody who could shed light on all of this. Notions such as 'the collective unconscious' and 'autonomous contents of the psyche' began to provide a conceptual framework for my world-shifting experiences. Most importantly, Jung was clearly someone who had 'been there': a read of 'Memories, Dreams, Reflections', his sort-of autobiography, makes this abundantly clear. And Jung readily accepted the reality and value of such non-ordinary states of consciousness.

From Jung and his archetypes, it was a seamless transition to Hillman's archetypal psychology. Hillman's contention that there is an ever-present archetypal dimension 'behind' or 'beneath' our everyday realities resonated deeply with me. His emphasis on 'soul-making' was a welcome counter to the disembodied spirituality that I had occasion to fall into during my Buddhist heyday. And in his later years Hillman explored with passion anima mundi, soul of the world. By so doing, he was taking psychology right away from its obsession with self and ego, instead aligning it with ancient western teachings about existence. He was saying that soul is to be found as much in the animated, ensouled world around us as literally inside our own limited selves. The title of his 'psychological foreword' to 'Ecopsychology' says it all: 'A Psyche the Size of the Earth'.

In the spirit of my reflections on Castaneda's final book, I would like to say a belated yet heartfelt 'thank you' to James Hillman for his courageous work detailing many insights into the workings of the human (and the non-human) soul. Especially I would like to express my gratitude for these of his works: 'The Dream and the Underworld' for helping me to see that images, and non-ordinary states in general, should be taken 'as is', rather than translated into dayworld concerns; 'Anima' for re-presenting Jung's inspirational notion but cutting through the macho and endlessly oppositional bullshit; and 'Thought of the Heart and Soul of the World' for its masterly deconstruction of pernicious modern notions of separateness and its presentation of a far more beautiful alternative. James, thank you.

A Book For The Dying

The Sonora Desert: but where is Don Juan Matus?

Among the few surviving material fragments from my life in the mid-1970s is the bundle of age-worn faded yellow pieces of parchment-like paper that goes by the name 'Journey to the Centre of the Brain'. You probably get the idea. Much of it is unprintable, consisting as it largely does of convoluted ramblings on the themes of attachment, overcoming the ego, transcending materialism and asceticism, and the like. Yet, sprinkled amongst the purple hippie prose of the sixteen chapters of 'Journey' are, if I may say so, some genuine insights. And there is Chapter Fifteen: the Booklist. Having reminded the reader of the limits of the written word - that it merely points the way, rather than being the way -, I conclude with the sentiment: 'I would like to thank my authorities, the authors.'

The list includes some of the usual suspects for the time: Alan Watts, Norman O. Brown, Herman Hesse, along with my personal Tibetan primer, 'Secret Oral Teachings of Tibetan Buddhist Sects' by Alexandra David-Neel ('The Tibetans have got it all sussed out,' I enthuse in my accompanying notes. 'This is the best summary.'). But pride of place on the list ('Perhaps these are my favourite books.') goes to the first three volumes in a series that was to impact deeply on mine and innumerable other people's lives: 'The Teachings of Don Juan', 'A Separate Reality' and 'Journey to Ixtlan' by one Carlos Castaneda.

I took Castaneda, the unwitting and sometime witless sorcerer's apprentice, and Don Juan Matus, his shaman/sorcerer teacher, the 'very wise fool', as I described him in 'Journey', extremely seriously. Long fireside conversations into the depth of the winter night with one of my fellow communards became the order of the day. Like most other Castaneda readers of the time, we didn't think to question the literal veracity of the stories and teachings that cast their spell upon us. Since then, however, a goodly number of sceptics (not to mention out-and-out non-believers) has emerged. For some people, this debunking of the literal Castaneda has been hard to take - a trawl through the internet throws up sites where folk clearly feel betrayed on discovering that Castaneda might have written most of his stuff in the library rather than faithfully recording 'real' meetings with Don Juan, Don Genaro, and the rest.

Just where all Castaneda's material came from we will never really know: it's a secret the author took with him to his grave - or on his final flight from the tonal, as he might put it in his books. At the end of the day, it's a piece of information that I feel is largely irrelevant. Those who bewail the possibility the stories didn't literally happen have fallen precisely into the mindset that the books are intended to shake us out of. They have fallen prey to the same literalism that plagues Christian and Muslim fundamentalists, insisting on the historical reality of the stories comprising their central texts. They have failed to see the narrative basis to our reality; how reality is created by the stories we tell ourselves. Even those who protest with 'I don't fall for this story bullshit, I just believe in what I see and hear' are still telling themselves a story.

All the 'major world religions' are actually based on stories, whether they like it or not. Hindus seem generally more comfortable with this state of affairs, happy to found their systems and practices on myths about the gods and goddesses as communications of deeper realities. And some Buddhists I have known develop a pragmatic approach, pointing out that the historical accuracy of the Buddha's life story is secondary to whether the Buddhist practices work or not.

Whatever the historical status of Castaneda's writings, their continued power as narratives that influence people, and specifically orient them toward wider realities, cannot be doubted. This is as true for the final book in the Castaneda corpus, 'The Active Side of Infinity', as for any other. Penned shortly before he died, it is remarkable for several reasons. While not explicitly stated, one of the prime concerns of this book, written by a dying man, is how to prepare for death. Obliquely, it addresses the question: if we know we are soon to die, what should we be doing? The overall context for appropriate action is provided by Don Juan Matus's instruction to Carlos to 'relate the memorable events of his life.' At first, Castaneda doesn't get it. He relates stories about what he thinks were important moments: being admitted to university, the time he nearly got married. 'No, no,' protests Don Juan. 'These stories are too personal.' Stories that finally fit the bill are ones that 'touch every one of us human beings, not just you.'

Carlos is further instructed to undertake the 'recapitulation'. He has to make a list of all the people he has ever known, and recall everything he can about each one. Carlos soon finds out, as Don Juan says, 'the power of the recapitulation is that it stirs up all the garbage of our lives and brings it to the surface.' Further, he is told to find the people who have been important in his life, but to whom he has failed to express his thanks. 'Warrior-travellers don't leave any debts unpaid,' says Don Juan. 'You must make a token payment in order to atone, in order to appease infinity.' Castaneda must search them out and buy them as a gift anything they may ask for. The people concerned turn out to be two women he had known at junior college, Patricia Turner and Sandra Flanagan. Finding them again requires the service of a private investigator, but atone Carlos eventually does. And as if all this is not enough, he is then confronted by Don Juan with those people he failed to thank and who are no longer alive, including those he did not communicate with because he was blind to their proximity to death. Strong stuff.

To cap it all, it is in 'The Active Side of Infinity' that Don Juan gives his teaching on the 'topic of topics', namely the flyers, the mind predators, an episode previously covered in 'Archons Everywhere', Pale Green Vortex January 25th 2011.

Texts for the dying? The Bardo Thodol (popularly known as 'The Tibetan Book of the Dead')? Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, maybe? But 'The Active Side of Infinity' is right up there as a most instructive book for facing the inevitable disintegration of our physical form. And its final chapter is one of the most disquieting things I have ever read; no happy-ever-after endings in the Castaneda version of life. A chapter that deserves an essay of its own.

Picture: Wise Woman University

Images of Summer Gone....

Sacrificial Lambs

Eden Court is the number one venue in Inverness for the arts: music, theatre, independent cinema all proudly gathered on the banks of the River Ness. Eden Court was noticeably devoid of high culture for three days just over a week ago, however: it was closed to the public while staging a very special event indeed. Though notably lacking in good jokes, the theatre undoubtedly saw plenty of buffoonery, generously provided by a veritable gaggle of court jesters. Experts in the performing arts were there aplenty, intended to deceive the unwary, and with ambition and intrigue fit for a Shakespearian historical drama. The event: the annual conference of the Scottish National Party.

Delegates were treated to a special welcoming party on the Saturday, as folk from various anti-windfarm groups across the length and breadth of Scotland met outside to protest at the Scottish misgovernment's crazy plunder-a-hill policies. I decided to go along. It would, in fact, have been hypocritical not to have done so, given the ferocity of my own objection to these metal-and-plastic monsters that are now bestriding some of the most marvellous wild locations in Europe. The result of my own investigations over the past several years, reported in part on Pale Green Vortex, is that large-scale windfarms possess no redeeming features whatsoever. They are promoted by, and benefit, three groups of people only: as a publicity stunt by politicians wishing to appear 'green' on the world stage; by energy companies and landowners who stand to make a fast and easy buck from government policies; and by those infected with a delusional, abstracted notion of 'environmentalism', as distinct from the real thing.

With their high-fives and victory fist-waving, the leading lights of the Scottish National Party demonstrate a worrying triumphalism. And, because they are driven by ideology - independence at any price and renewables at any cost - they can be blind to the pragmatic concerns of ordinary human beings. Put another way, they are dangerous people. They will be undone by their hubris in the end, I am confident; history seems to teach this lesson. But in the meantime, Scotland is subject to their shrill cries of 'Scotland for the Scots', while simultaneously blighting the lives of many who happen to live within their domain.

The SNP version of independence for Scotland seems firmly bedded in what, following John Lash, I refer to as the victim-perpetrator mindset. And as a grand ideology, independence, like all Big Ideas, transcends the individual. It follows, therefore, that it has its own sacrificial lambs. And foremost among those lined up for slaughter in the name of the Great and Good Cause are those who cherish wild places as a vital source of spiritual nourishment. At the head of the queue, as many of Scotland's upland and rural areas are destroyed, are those who happen to live there in the first place.

People tend to inhabit rural places for two main reasons. Either they are born there, or they move there because they find the rhythms of nature and the countryside more conducive than those of the Big City. Whichever way, to suddenly find your chosen way of life shattered by an army of enormous turbines waving at you from a nearby horizon or right on your doorstep, as a result of a decision made hundreds of miles away and in which you have played no part, is shocking. I am fortunate enough not to gaze at a bunch of turbines from my bedroom window, but many of the people gathered outside Eden Court now suffer this fate. And simply moving away often proves impractical or downright impossible, since nobody wants to buy a house next door to an industrial junkyard.

One of the placards being carried at Eden Court posed the question: 'Does independence mean dictatorship?' In the SNP version of events, most likely 'yes'. Even local democracy stands no chance in the face of the juggernaut of SNP-driven central government. Critical example: many decisions on windfarm applications are initially made by local councils. If turned down by the local bodies, they may be taken to central government by the energy companies. Get this - every single large-scale application refused by Perth and Kinross Council (which includes within its remit some of the most quintessential of Scottish landscapes) has subsequently been given the go-ahead by the powers-that-be in Edinburgh. So the more local form of government, which might just be a little more in touch with the realities of the location concerned, is held in total contempt. We have a situation of complete disempowerment by Central Control. Otherwise known as 'modern democracy'.

The terms of discourse of modern politics are such that everything which endows human life with true value is excluded. Matters of soul, heart, and spirit; of our intimate and intrinsic connectedness with the non-human world. These are strictly off the map, in general, and specifically when decision-makers discuss windfarms. Even the vague and cliched 'quality of life' gets short shrift nowadays, treated as a luxury, when finance and economics are presented as being so pressing. Times of apparent economic difficulty actually suit the political classes very well, since they can concentrate their materialistic minds exclusively on what comes naturally to them: food, water, property, employment, division of resources. They are on home ground.

Delegates strode in and straggled out. Some were courteous, accepting the leaflets offered to them, while others marched brusquely by. One or two stopped to engage in 'heated discussion', and a few more quietly, almost conspiratorially, whispered that they agreed with us. The protest had excellent front-page coverage in the Press and Journal, one of the local newspapers, which hopefully brought the scam to the awareness of more people. Thanks go to the reporter and photographer for this. As I walked home from the demo, I realised that I had been touched quite deeply by a mixture of sadness and inspiration. Sadness at the needless destruction of landscapes, wild nature, and the lives of those living proximate to them. Yet inspired by the tireless efforts and courage of people fighting for what is of real value to their souls, and for the soul of the natural world of which we are part.

Photo: Oast House Archive

The Gagging of Casey Hardison

Photo: Casey Hardison, entheogenic activist (Erowid, Brighton Argus)

Readers of Pale Green Vortex will already be familiar with Casey Hardison, sentenced in 2005 to twenty years in jail for producing psychedelic-type substances at his home in leafy Sussex, southern England. On September 22nd this year, Casey received a letter. I paraphrase freely, but this is the gist: 'Mr Hardison. We are finding your persistent correspondence with us on the subject of the legal status of various drugs increasingly tiresome and irritating. We are unable to stop you in your tracks rationally, as the logic of your position is irrefutable. Therefore, we have no option but to simply issue an order to shut you up. Yours, etc.'

Yes, folks, this is what those great western values of freedom of speech and democracy have come to after all these years: we don't like what you have to say, so shut up! It's as simple as that. During the course of the past seven years, Casey has consistently stood up for truth, honesty, liberty, and equality. At his trial, he did not do as criminals are expected to do - bow their head in shame, mumble something about seeing the error of their ways, and hope for a lighter sentence. Instead, he asserted his right to freedom of consciousness - cognitive liberty -, and argued that the 'War on Drugs' is in fact a War on Consciousness. As evidenced in the Operation Julie trial 25 years beforehand, such unrepentant behaviour is guaranteed to antagonise the powers-that-be, and result in a suitably harsh sentencing from an affronted man in a wig.

Instead of shutting up and lying down on his prison bed, Casey has devoted his time and considerable energy to delving into UK drug laws in great detail. The fine print of his investigations can be found through either the freecasey link on Pale Green Vortex or the Drug Equality Alliance website. I suggest that anybody concerned about freedom and discrimination in modern western society should take some time to look carefully at this information. But in summary Casey has argued that, on the basis of scientific evidence of their relative potential for harm, the socially and culturally acceptable drugs alcohol and tobacco are currently under-regulated, while various other substances, such as ecstasy and LSD, are over-regulated. The current scheduling of drugs does not mirror their relative dangers in the slightest. This is not personal opinion, but fact - see the work spearheaded by Professor Nutt for starters - and is not what you would expect if the purpose of law was to protect the individual from the effects of dangerous substances.

Furthermore, Casey has suggested that alcohol and tobacco, being drugs with a certain potential for harm, should logically be placed alongside other drugs under the strictures of the Misuse of Drugs Act, 1971. The special status that they enjoy is based on cultural factors - even the government has admitted as much -, and in effect discriminates against those who may which by personal preference to use other drugs instead which are no more harmful. This does not mean that alcohol and tobacco should be prohibited: this act simply provides the framework for regulation in one form or another of a variety of substances. Casey's argument has been wilfully misrepresented, however, and on September 22nd an 'Extended Civil Restraining Order' was duly placed on this individual who dares to repeatedly point out that the emperor wears no clothes. By the time the Order expires, Casey will most likely have been conveniently deported to the USA after completing his jail sentence.

As the 1960s and early 1970s, years that shaped much current UK drug policy, fade into distant memory, ignorance can no longer be held up as an excuse for the continuing disconnection between the legal situation and reality. It is impossible to avoid the conclusion that another agenda is at work. The Casey Hardison fiasco is further evidence that the prime purpose of law in modern 'democratic society' is not, as might be supposed, to protect the rights and freedoms of the individual, and to ensure fairness. A main function of law, in fact, appears to be to protect and perpetuate a particular version of reality. It also serves to advance the interests of the few at the expense of the many - but this is simply one aspect of that particular version of reality. There is no other possible conclusion that can be drawn from a close examination of the facts that we are confronted with, and it is vital to grasp this realisation if we wish to understand much of what happens in the world today.

A hallmark of the 'reality' that we are fed as the one and only reality is its strongly hierarchical configuration. The greatest enemy of the pyramid-of-power dominator culture spawned by this version of reality is anything that reveals other, wider realities, with their other, more positive attendant realms of consciousness. Dominator culture is terrified by the stance of Casey Hardison like it is terrified of nothing else; widespread access to other realities and forms of consciousness will be its undoing, and it will do anything within its power to suppress this knowledge. And while access to other realities can be afforded by a variety of means, the quickest and most reliable is with the assistance of psychedelic-type, or entheogenic, plants or substances. Not everyone is comfortable with this notion, but ask any Andean or Amazonian shaman. And on the subject of one of Casey's products, Andy Roberts summarises neatly in 'Albion Dreaming': 'At its most potent, LSD gives the user no option but to examine and challenge all accepted notions of perception, thought, identity, culture and the nature of reality. The danger to the Establishment must be that if enough people used LSD there might ....... be a revolution that could threaten how life in Britain is lived.' (Chapter Thirteen, 'Revolution in the head'). Just so, Andy, just so. And we wouldn't want that, would we?

Producers of psychedelic-type substances generally get a bum deal - particularly if they are caught. No mention in the New Years' honours lists for their excellent products or services to humankind. Andy Roberts bemoans the lack of public protest when the Operation Julie defendants were tried and sent to jail, but I wonder what the point would have been: I can't see how it would have helped the chemists in any way. Manufacturers (or alchemists, depending on your take on reality) such as Casey Hardison and some of the Operation Julie defendants were primarily motivated by idealism, but this was outside the frame of reference of Judge Niblett's consciousness in the Hardison case, when he could only envisage greed and profit as motives. He could only envisage greed and profit because they are the currency of his version of reality! The truth is that thousands, if not millions, of people have had their lives quietly enriched and enhanced as a result of the substances that came out of a farmhouse in rural 1970s Wales and a room in rural Sussex. The acid chemists have helped improve countless more people's lives, opened more eyes, than have all our politicians and High Court judges put together.

When Al-Megrahi of Lockerbie notoriety was returned to Libya by the Scottish Misgovernment, he was accorded a hero's welcome on his coming home. Will a true man of courage and unflagging positivity receive a similar reception when deported to his native US soil? Probably not. But Casey certainly should be.....