Journeys into the bright world

Many years previously I had paid two visits to a prominent spiritual teacher whose modus operandi had been to stare unblinking-ly at the assembled throng of his devotees while they stared back. Surveying the members of his audience, one by one, he would look straight into each person's mesmerized eyes as though drilling through to the inner self. As his image wavered and grew misty I waited curiously for the time to come when he would notice me. Sure enough, eventually he did direct his attention my way, our eye beams interlocked and a twinge of yearning stirred deep within. I knew that some sort of transmission was supposed to be taking place but felt very little effect either then or afterward. On the whole, it seemed like a dumb way to spend the evening, though I vaguely sympathized with the mystical rationale of the process. Now, however, I understood perfectly what it was that this teacher had been trying to accomplish. Here on the inner plane the method really worked!

Being penetrated can be painful, as when a sword pierces the flesh, or pleasurable, as in sexual union. To be penetrated by the gaze of my transcendental guru was an experience quite beyond ordinary human pleasure and pain. The feeling engendered was that which comes with the attainment of a new level of accomplishment, a cool exaltation which only later melts down into trickles of gladness to irrigate the instinctual lowlands of the psyche.

Feeling that I had achieved a breakthrough I was eager to try to repeat the experience the next day. First, however, there was a mass of deskwork to be dispatched. Rising early on Sunday I plowed assiduously through my self-assigned chores and by five o'clock pm was more or less caught up. My mind was reeling with the effort but I had wanted to feel completely free to enjoy whatever new insights might come.

Up to now it had been our habit to use our samadhi medicine as a sacrament. Generally Howard and I would both fast, and I would make it a point to bathe, shampoo and take a walk in order to achieve as serene a frame of mind as possible. Like the sixteenth century astronomer-astrologer Tycho Brahe who always donned his best clothes before going to his observatory to observe the stars, we had formulated our own simple preparatory rituals. Music, candles and incense set the stage, and when possible yoga and deep breathing exercises. Today, however, knowing that Howard would soon be back with fish to clean and news of his excursion I took no time to compose myself but rushed helter-skelter into the bedroom and detached the phone cord from the wall.

Waiting for the medicine to work it vaguely entered my mind that I had greatly stepped up the frequency of my "trips." Since we were now working with others I wanted to see to what extent it might be possible to resonate to their vibrations by accompanying them into the dimension of meaning where telepathy is the main medium of communication. It made me feel like a "high priestess"-a role which I felt I had played before and found compatible. That very week a letter from Jane had cautioned me that the medicine worked best when used in moderation. However, I had noticed no deleterious effects from my own sharply accelerated intake. Accordingly, I decided to take thirty-five milligrams, a dose which would usually produce a trancelike state in which the outer world faded into insignificance.

This time the initial hum of the motor quickly gave way to a pounding which struck me as being much like the thuds of a mallet softening meat. It seemed like an ugly metaphor and I resolved not to use it in the book. Then once again I was dissolving into that great mandala of the cosmos with its mirroring highs and lows. This time, however, I seemed to be oscillating up and down, swinging uncontrollably in widening sweeps from sublime to spooky sensations. Angel's wings faded to bat's wings, smiles inverted to pouts, lace to spiderwebs, the sun sank into a swamp, and there I was skittering down the lower side of the mandala unable to halt the descent. "Oh this can't be," I protested incredulously. "I've never yet had a downer. It just doesn't happen."