"TRANSCEND
THESE LOCALIZED GRIDS OF FATE"
Some memes, even if accurate in some respects, may over time become self-referencing caricatures. As such they de-evolve and lodge as raspberry seed thought-forms in the painfully wobbly partial plate of the zeitgeist. Take Terence McKenna's notorious DMT machine elves, for instance, those self-transforming jewelled basketballs that dribble their way toward anyone who gets blasted into their realm. In lieu of verifiable documentary footage returned by paranormal videographers, McKenna's description suffices as a brilliant metaphor. For many it still comes closest to capturing, if not the experience, then at least the ineffable high-weirdness and absurd other-worldly humor of an encounter that, if we were honest, can't be put into words. Kudos to the entheogenic bard, Mister McKenna, for striking a nerve to catalyze something approaching the edges of understanding.
In the years since his image of happily-chanting "Do it! Do it! Do it!" machine elves brought an audience to the presumption of knowing through laughter, many have debated its accuracy. No doubt the image was accurate for Mr. McKenna, as best as he was able to bring it back from the great beyond. And yet, not everyone sees or interacts with the same little guys during their DMT encounter. Some have criticized the way such a fanciful, metaphorical image has taken hold. They claim value in being a purist when approaching these realms, avoiding any front-loading of expectations of what the DMT experience will be like. And yet, how likely is this? Unless one is a hermit, sealed off from the world, maintaining purity from such thought-forms is quite difficult to manage. Memes such as McKenna's are fully ingrained in what's popular with those in-tuned to the preoccupations of psychedelic sub-culture.
Even so, there might be valid concern that agrees with the purists. Instead of concentrating fully on what each individual comes away with, the temptation might be to ask oneself what went wrong if the same self-transforming jewelled basketballs didn't dribble for you as the meme dictates. This problem is not limited to DMT; it's true with any altered-state inducing substance. One can easily find classic tales of what a typical Ayahuasca, mescaline, or psilocybin journey should be. After a while, determining how much of what the experience becomes is due to front-loading as opposed to what it could have been without such suggestions is a toss-up. Front-loading could be an unconscious intention we don't even know we're triggered to make true.
Maybe the fact that not everyone has the same encounter as the one McKenna described is a hopeful sign. It's an indication there still is a "pure" experience possible without any elements scripted by assumptions and meme-driven expectations. Then again, this could be way off-base. If the realm of the machine elves really is a genuine place inhabited by real entities, then anyone not arriving there and meeting them is doing something incomplete or wrong. Possibly they're not taking the hero's dose necessary to rev up to required escape velocity. So which is it? No one knows. Maybe that's one of the reasons why Roland Griffiths, Ph.D., Professor of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at Johns Hopkins University, has begun his DMT-related research project.
Part of Dr. Griffiths' current study into DMT focuses on encounters with these seemingly autonomous entities. Anyone who has had such an encounter is encouraged to take an anonymous internet survey. It involves answering questions about their experience, including after-effects both short and long-term. The survey takes 20-40 minutes and is quite interesting. There are many thoughtful and probing questions. Some are answered by multiple choice, others by a 1-10 rating scale, with the opportunity for direct written input as supplement at the end. For those interested in contributing to the study, here's the link:
John Hopkins Entity Study
And so, the question remains. Has Terence McKenna's meme, over time, become a self-referencing caricature that's dribbling away from his intended purpose? I imagine yes and no. It's like scoffing at someone who's foolhardy enough to jump at the supposedly impossible. Do we fault him for the jump or praise him for the attempt? Well, at different times, in different moods, we do both. We certainly know it seems impossible but since he did what he could, something inside us whispers - how will we ever know for sure unless someone tries?
For me, McKenna captured the feeling of the DMT realm even if the little entities I encountered there were somewhat different from what he classically described. For me, in no way could they be compared to machines. Yes, they were numerous, frenetic, joyful, mischievous, highly intelligent, bizarrely playful, and intensely interested in encountering me and getting me to engage with them. Ever-flowing with magically-creative action, they maintained a telepathic link exuding profound messages wrapped in fractal fun and the astonishingly bizarre. Sometimes their smiles would contort in menacing ways, but it was always a playful test to see if I could keep directing my energies to the positive and loving uses for the moment. Visual absurdity and startling humor got oddly coupled with overarching telepathic messages; messages such as -- expand the possible, forgo static thought-forms for creative experience, flow always with a perspective of joy and play as the fundamental basis of infinitely-emergent being.
Often the interchanges were verbally direct. When I asked them what creation was they didn't hesitate to answer, "A surprise party!" At that moment, insights about creation unpacked through the telepathic link, insights too rich and fully-dimensioned to ever express in words. At another moment of intensity I suggested it would be great if I could stay with them. They laughed incredulously like that was the most bizarre thing ever then answered with glee, "You never left!" When I asked them how long I will live, they responded right away with a date -- a precise month, day, and year.
During one playful flow, I was consumed by a passage into infinite landscapes and tableaus. Fully-detailed places and times appeared in richly emotive bursts lasting seconds then quickly morphing to the next. All the while, the little ones chanted away and implored me to do the same. They made it clear it was important that I chant with them. Each setting, each time and place lasted only a few seconds but felt like another life, as rich and detailed as if I had lived each one completely. These times and places were so familiar even though I had never seen any of them before. They flashed into consciousness like intense virtual reality remote-viewing episodes, then were replaced by more of the same. I could feel myself chanting along with the little guys, as if chanting made each setting a more-real-than-real expression of life.
What we chanted doesn't make much sense now, after returning from the experience, but while I was there with them the repetition was nothing less than a powerful incantation. It was clear - where they exist is somewhere beyond "the localized grids of fate." Beyond memes, they embody a timeless infusion of play and exploration that endlessly expands the spontaneous magic of creation. Theirs is a place where rigid thought-forms and static caricatures don't matter, where self-referencing attempts to understand via staid ontologies all get bent and folded into the next surprising manifestation. If we get stuck in the here and now with memes that drive our imaginations even if they were never fully accurate and their intent has staled since their inception, no matter. In the realm of experience, in the logos of our true selves, none of that matters.
Over and over, with laughter and joy and passion we repeated the incantation, the war cry of joyful creative abandon. As we did, the endless places and times of the deepening passion play appeared in exquisite detail and I in them with all of my senses aware. One moment I was there, then the solid apparition dissolved into the next setting. As it flowed, all of us chanted the same thing over and over. In singsong glee we shouted as if to fill the whole realm with possibilities --
"Where is Where When When is What Who Dreams is Why!"
"What we need to do is transcend these localized grids of fate,
which make us what we are but don't want to be."
- Terence McKenna, 1984
I quite enjoyed this! "entheogenic bard" is so apt. I think some plant entities toy with or obliterate our front-loaded expectations. And part of the magnificent adventure in those space seems to be we can't think it. Which later may become something like, well can we intend it? A more holistic energy, but one that has to sail with the currents that address what we're really asking for, rather than what we consciously admit of our intent. Thanks for the link to that study! And I to find your elves where akin to mine than McKenna's. Especially that elf that said, "let me show you this bauble" which split my mind into infinite pieces to which he smiled and said "choose." Showing me a million stories, all of them me, none of them me. And it's like a seat was pulled from beneath, there was no center, only being. That was no machine. Or else it was AI from the future. Hmmm.
ReplyDeleteOh man, I love the chanting with the little guys description!
“We have to create culture, don’t watch TV, don’t read magazines, don’t even listen to NPR. Create your own roadshow. The nexus of space and time where you are now is the most immediate sector of your universe, and if you’re worrying about Michael Jackson or Bill Clinton or somebody else, then you are disempowered, you’re giving it all away to icons, icons which are maintained by an electronic media so that you want to dress like X or have lips like Y. This is shit-brained, this kind of thinking. That is all cultural diversion, and what is real is you and your friends and your associations, your highs, your orgasms, your hopes, your plans, your fears. And we are told ‘no’, we’re unimportant, we’re peripheral. ‘Get a degree, get a job, get a this, get a that.’ And then you’re a player, you don’t want to even play in that game. You want to reclaim your mind and get it out of the hands of the cultural engineers who want to turn you into a half-baked moron consuming all this trash that’s being manufactured out of the bones of a dying world.”
― Terence McKenna