These times we live in, after oracles of long ago. In these times, people are influenced with wages and security, which is probably much better than superstition and love or specialness. There are huge organisations representing 1000s of people, and governments, businesses, industries, and within those structures are lawmakers, deal makers, trend analysers, and the goal is generally considered to make enough money that you can break free, because it's generally acknowledged that the system isn't too good for you, or be able to have amassed enough wealth that retirement is a well-earned pleasurable experience.
There are no caverns to cross or entrails to read to talk to God, to ask him to explain just what the hell is going on. To ’splain which way is the human race going, and are we going the right way even, and are we even going to get there? And just where is there? What is the mad rush to get to where we don't even know if we want to go, and will material wealth be the currency for the future? Or will we have everyone fed and clothed and medicated sensibly and choose another consensus reality?
Obviously, there is a minimum of requirement for a quality of living, necessities like good food, good medicines, supplements, warmth, good air, clean water, the ability to heal oneself and others, the ability to access caloric matter so we never have to go hungry or be without. Do we lose our soul if we murder people on the way to getting security as we perceive it in the future? Or, is it simply necessary on a planet with 9 billion people and growing exponentially, who all speak different languages and have different value systems, of different races, of different gods, and different ideals and purposes? Aren't we all just the human race? Lofty questions for such a relatively small brain.
But in this book, I'm going to attempt to try to answer some of these questions. Probably it will end up illustrating just how limited I really am, but maybe, like a relay race, someone will grab the stick and run further with these ideas. And hopefully the thinkers, the philosophers, and the visionaries will once again have a place in society, because we are the people who are watching the whole thing from our entrenched introvert loner existence, probably because we have found it all too much, wondering what is right and wrong, and wondering whether today's wrong is actually a contribution to tomorrow's right. If I break the harmony of a party to complain about recycling, am I a devil? The horned one.

Chapter 2

Just as there are special people who have not only been born with talent, but worked hard with discipline at cultivating their talents and bringing them to a peak, which holds the rest in awe, there are those who are not special, who are just basic bots designed to do basic work and have basic brains. Their heart might be Christlike, but their ability to have an impact because of their choices and lead many to a good place might seriously be hampered by syntax, bad manners, or simply a lack of vision. It takes all sorts to make this world. I am one sort, and I'm going to attempt to try to explain my life, my beliefs, my existence, my purpose, my choices, and what I have learned from all of this.
Perhaps it will help answer questions like the purpose of humanity, and questions which theologians and philosophers and the universities have been discussing since the Greeks had their chance. They would probably take my lay attempt to answer these questions apart in seconds, because the language I will use will be the only language I have: common English, the great absorber and coloniser of cultures. In some way, there was great love in the act of bringing the world under one set of values which could accurately contain and represent all of the human diversity under a prime directive of development and prosperous abundance for the many. But now it's been viewed as an attack on diversity. Go back to open sewers and no plumbing or power, I say. They were your liberators; you're only too dumb to see it. Liberators from the deadly elements.
Great expectations. A human story.
The history of the world has brought us to a place where artificial intelligence actually works now, and because of the vast data on the Internet, I can actually get quite reasonable answers to my odd eclectic questions.

Chapter 3

It is October 2025, to be precise, and I'm sitting in a one-room apartment in the Bergstr. part of Southwest Germany. How did I get here, you might ask, if you are a curious reader? I got here through a series of life choices. A better question might be, why did you come here? I came here because I wanted to know whether these people who were accused of the Holocaust were really as evil as the world had made them out to be since the 1940s.
I arrived here in 2008 because my son lived here. My son was born on January 1, 1996; it was New Year's Eve. I had declined to go to a party. It was the time in London, the beginning of the Goa trance parties, which later became Psy-trance music, and the parties were still very new and original, and so was the music. People were really taking LSD and dancing in strange and wonderful ways, and it was still a wonderful curiosity that had everyone captured, to know what was coming and what revelations would be gleaned from all of these pagan gatherings of The Tribes.
The Hippie 60s had conversed with the Digital 90s. Music with sampled urban beats was created at the press of a button, but it felt like we had been suppressed from dancing in a trance in groups of thousands for thousands of years. More and more realised this awakening, and life was never the same again. Finally, the tribal rhythms reached the subconscious, and God was back out on the dance floor. Not like the 50s, where a boy and a girl were doing the twist—this was like calling the Old Gods back because humanity had taken a wrong turn.
It happened, and it was suits in stocks and shares and currency banks being bankrupt, and a few very lucky became very rich, the very rich became even more very rich, and those who were not particularly attracted to material acquisition were left out in the cold, still struggling to keep the heat on.
I was attending East London University, studying a combined degree, smoking cannabis whenever I could, playing my guitar when I could, and generally trying to charm women and have a go at understanding what tantra was, and what any smart 19-year-old should be doing: discovering the secrets of the universe while there was still time. The tools I had at my disposal will become clear as this journey moves forward.
The neutrons bombard the electrons, the neutrons bombard the Electrons, The electrons do it to the neutrons. What a calling!
This was the wonderful sample, and this expressed it all very well. We were excited molecules about to participate in an event horizon for the rest of humanity.
Never had such a diverse and strange group ever been called upon, invited, activated to participate in this magical ritual of sound, movement, frequency, lighting, fractal visuals, sharing and mind medicines. Everyone who was there felt privileged, and everyone who was there was special, because this was not a calling based on style or music likes or sexual proclivities. This was a calling of unprecedented clarity. An alarm bell was ringing inside the heart of people to wake up to the slavery they had signed themselves off into. Sons and daughters of Adam and Eve, these mixes of angels and beasts that God created, were being called to celebrate the divinity and the spiritual and the core truth at the very existence of all things in the universe, that we are just tiny particles, each playing our own little special part-icle.
The Native American Indian, the Meso American civilization, the Vedic civilization, any culture that danced to a drum, had been dovetailed into this gathering and new dawn, rewriting the greedy capitalist script, reminding us that we are beautiful, profound, and cosmic beings who, in the right circumstances, are able to take flight.
In this essay or book there might be moments when I will claim this or that, but you can be sure that because of Enantiodromia (a concept, introduced to the West by Carl Jung, that describes the tendency of a thing to eventually turn into its opposite), any claim I make will be quickly disproven by the reader. Best not to make any claims. This book is about the knowledge of who we are, and why we are, and where we are, and where we are going, or where some of us are going, and everything in between.
I urge the reader to humour me, and I hope I will be able to justify the time spent on reading this book. A book which took me 40 years to write, and could not have been written had I not come from a diverse, mixed background which was constantly changing under my feet.
I am a writer, and I am a philosopher. I am a seeker. I am a Psychonaught. I am a person who realised that life was so bizarre that I had to try to understand what the phenomenon going on actually was. Are we to be born into a kind of slavery, unless we are rich, or is there a way out of this madness?
Does reincarnation exist, or are we just wheat separated from chaff? Does the nuclear family have its roots in a spiritual past that has soul and characteristics and qualities, or are we just mass-produced beings who consume and need mass production or there will be civil war, post-apocalyptic Mad Max hierarchies, based on strength and power, cruelty and cunning?
Or are we more reflections of God, made in his image, chips of the old block scattered? Just what is the process of birth, life, and death for?
We are evolving, but towards what, and what will we become, and how will we sustain that becoming, and what can we not lose on that way, that we don't lose the eternal truth, beauty, humility, and compassion of man. This eternal spark that created invention, fostered kindness, shared humour, laughter, created maths and relativity. The humility to know the human experience is a shared one, and God, in his singularity, must have a reason for us, and if everything is already known by an omniscient being, what is the point of anything?
Much of the improvements was just making things smaller, more convenient. Once we could hear music and communicate thousands of miles in a few seconds, everything really started. Who are we? Why are we? Why are we?
Once society has reached a place where we don't have to hunt and gather, we can start to think about who or why are we.
What are we here to do? And how and why religion believes that God needed to be prayed to all the time, and yes, a certain amount of reverence and gratitude and respect is required when one wants to communicate to the maker/creator/inspirer of all things. Nichts war? But I postulate that Christianity may have been. Trifle hacked to make us docile and guilt ridden.
In the 60s people would say God is love, love is God. In 2025 we know this is true: if there is a being who is running the whole show, who was smart enough to set up things as they are, that we should have results like these, this intelligent design which still astounds scientists every day, and if so are we not good? We are God, which means we are part of God, which means we are part of everything, and everything is part of God, so there is no God, me is God, is there or he is not there, or he was there, so God and me.
I know there is divine and I know there is a smudged letter in the priory.
Truth and belief, the energetic principles.
What is truth? Truth is the verifiable, the quantifiable, the agreed upon, the factual, the undeniable, the irrefutable. Truth is I am, you are, we is, we exist, now in this moment in time. All humans can say this together. If we have had enough food in our bellies and we are warm enough and our health is well enough, we can say that for ourselves. We are alive and we feel good, and we can pray and we can run around and be silly at the moment, but if we are too silly we cross into a line of wastefulness and worthlessness and wont.
what's that? what's this? who am I? who are we? why are we? why are we? why are we? why are we? who are we? what is this world? It is us. it is life. and we are life. we are life and it is us. and we are life … Life.

Chapter 4

I spent many years, even in my childhood, travelling from place to place. By the time I was 12, I'd lived on three different continents, gone to six different schools, and so people would come and go, and when they left I would feel very alone. When I watched the documentaries of the 60s and I read Castaneda, I became inspired. I felt there was something to know and discover, and I took this track, jumped on that bus. I had a good deal before I had my first trips, but nothing could have prepared me for this total and utter paradigm shift of one's perceptions, oneself, value, one's soul.
At school it was clear you had to join a group, but after I had taken LSD in a few unplanned situations, I started to realise that magic did exist and there were mysterious forgotten knowledge that was worth rediscovering. Perhaps it was that man was made in the image of God, and in the right conditions the potential we had was far greater than anyone was letting on, at least in the identities and systems as they stood in the 80s and 90s.
I was lucky to go to some liberal boarding schools in England, and this opened me up to the idea that you could be as weird as you like as long as you have money to be able to pay the rent. So there was an escape out of this forced, foisted-upon identity which I was not happy with. I knew there had to be more, and when we first took those Dennis the Menace ecstasy pills at a nightclub called Heaven one night in around 1990, my life would never be the same.
It was a true communion en masse, where I saw the unadulterated, the undistorted, the unsung beauty, fragility, complexity, depth, courage, essence of mankind. We were young, but we felt we were old enough. We were probably 18 or 19, and it was a beautiful experience, a true psychedelic awakening on a dance floor in a club in London.
It was the first time I've looked at a woman who was so beautiful and didn't think, “oh, I want to put my penis into her.” It was as if the gods were teaching us how to love in a sacred way, which had been robbed from us because television had been constantly applying us with suggestive sexual imagery for decades. Everything was hinted at, inferred, suggested, a wink from a tawdry harlot dressed in satin, leaning seductively on her chaise lounge, having chocolate brought to her by a British secret agent who, under his SAS outfit, just happened to have a tuxedo.
Those pills were true love. To touch someone's skin after dancing for hours was an exalted, unforgettable, sensual, powerful, meaningful, eternal experience. It was love, not sex, although sexuality was in there somewhere. It was just one of the many filaments of awareness and feeling that were being initiated within to grow and develop. We had the potential to know.
Hurrah, we were indeed angels. We were indeed beholden unto a spark of God that lived within us, and it was our duty to care for that spark and return it to where it should be. I do not know what happened to all the other hundreds of people there that night. I'm sure I fell in love forever in a moment, and I will never even know her name. And there were other nights where I did fall in love forever and know her name.
It was a new, beautiful ability, capability within us to truly love and feel and know. The instrument of love had been calibrated, and it had been improved to a level that life as it had been dealt out and forced upon us would not allow. Whether this was just the cluelessness of a partial Christian idea of being afraid of that which you didn't understand, or being afraid of your passions, I will never know.
I know that those feelings I felt in those years, before I became an addict, were something like a beautiful apparatus that was taken out for a short moment, worked with, calibrated, and then put away because it was too precious and the world was not ready for it. It was something that was deep inside of us, a spark that was also a jewel, which could alter perceptions but in fact brought us back to what we had lost on the way in school, in the clash of conflict of individuals, group dynamics, rules, laws, jobs.
Teachers have a difficult job. They are there to inspire students, but it is just a job, and sometimes you have teachers who really cherished this unique opportunity, and other times you had people who saw it as a job and were not going to really inspire you beyond any notion of safeness.
An important fact with these agents is the setting. If one takes this thing and one isn't already in an inspired, augmented reality, the experience might be much more intimate and empathogenic. But if one is in a room with many people, with warm bass reverberating and clever sounds undulating and flashing through the body and mind and the cavities of the body, who knows what magic could take place.
After your initial rush of those ecstasy pills, more seasoned and profound versions of electronic dance music started to take shape. Using analog synths, didgeridoo, drums, deep bass sounds, and this is when the fun began.
In 1991 somebody told us Goa was the place to go, so I worked for six months on a horse farm, and my parents doubled my money, and I flew out to India. And there I began to see the beginnings of a scene much like the 60s: diverse people coming together under one prime directive. And a lot of the Timothy Leary–type mythical attitudes were starting to gain momentum.
There were so many wonderful types there. It was a true north-south-east-west meet under a sub bass woofer and an analog synthesiser, a couple of pots of fluorescent paint, and a whole new thing was born. What were we doing? What were we doing indeed.
Chapter 3 
Slipping out of our earth disguises
In 1991 I travelled India for 5 1/2 months to India. In Pushkar I had my fair first chance to try ketamine. Everything slowed down, where each second felt like an eternity. It felt as if we were walking on the moon, with the strangest experience, especially if you've had a lot of psychedelics already, and being that it's synthetic and aesthetic. It seemed impossible that within it I would have discovered so much about what I viewed as a truthful and variable perspective, which mankind might lose if we didn't remember to cherish, to remind ourselves how lucky we are, how beautiful we are, how special we are.
This was a very poor country, with vibrant and spiritual. I will devote a chapter to India, but not now, for this book is about the reason why I know and believe there is for all in tenant purpose the word that people use God, and all knowing, all seeing, able to do anything, essentially consciousness around us at all times. In fact, what was the nature of this God, what did he want from us, and why have his idea has been so distorted by masses of people who are captured in their belief, totally convinced, and live their lives accordingly.
When I got off the plane I did 19-year-olds do, which is smuggle a little bit of charas back for your friends. It was a small amount. I've been in India for 5 1/2 months, I had dysentery and giardia, I was very skinny, and the customs officer pulled me aside. And I said to myself, this is the end, you're going to a jail cell now. The first thing he looked at were my shoes. He looked right at the charas, but he did not see it, and he moved the shoes to my side and gestured me to continue taking off my things to be searched.
In that moment I realised that God existed. There is no way on Earth that this man could not have seen the charas, which I had clumsily wrapped up in athletic tape and slipped under my shoes. It was then I realised that if a man's path was worth saving, if the man had greater work to embark upon, then destroying his life with a prison sentence for something that is now practically legal in many places, and was extremely legal up until the 1950s, when the petrol industry decided cannabis and hemp were not good for their profits, and so they created a lot of bad publicity around this plant.
These agents are inert in the sense that how we use them and why we use them will determine whether their effects are beneficial or harmful. Nature has always required for us awareness, understanding, and knowledge. In that moment I believed in God again. The customs man did not see the charas in my shoe, and I addressed him forward saying, do you want to check inside my anus for more stashes, which he chuckled and replied, oh no thank you, you can be on your way.
And I laughed, grabbed my stuff, walked out of Heathrow, went to my friends who lived near Richmond, and thanked my lucky stars that I was alive and free and not in some horrible police cell half dead from a 5 1/2 month pilgrimage journey to India. Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare Hare Hare Hare Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Krishna.
India has always had a relationship with cannabis and opium, and accepted that these plants, when used wisely, can bestow celestial experience upon the user. And when these experiences are brought back to the hive of mind, we know more about ourselves, about our creator, and about our future. Our future is inextricably linked with nature. We cannot lose that. Without natural food we will die, and the mass production of food has created a mass production of people, rather than viewing every individual soul with a sense of purpose, a censored worth, a sense of individuality, sense of value.
These ideas often seem to have been forgotten in the mad rush for constant temperature, clean clothes, water running at perfect temperatures, all the energetic compliances that make our lives bearable often and livable. I'm a dense island; bar of gold will not feed you. Gold is only useful when there is civilisation and technology.
Once I returned to London, once again I was up against mammon and its demands of money, no money, no money.

Chapter 4
To be back in this metropolis was overwhelming, explosively inspiring. Beautiful women, latest fashion, the latest musical sounds and art, the latest ideas were disseminating throughout people in the world. The Internet was coming up, and cell phones were starting to be a necessity. If you were not part of the digital revolution, you were not worth being considered a human, which is a great mistake, because we are flesh and blood. We need food, we need water, we need warmth, we need shelter, we need understanding, we need to fit somewhere.
There is an excess of people The surplus people. Thanks Chris Bowsher for being great and calling out society before it was woke to do so! The profits for the board managers had not figured that the slap, the surplus of people, would require also a small slice of the pie that they were digging out of the Earth, manufacturing. In some countries, like Iceland, I believe the people receive payments on the basis that they also have a claim to the spoils of this venture and natural resources which we all own or no one owns.
When we build a fire we do not tell another human being he cannot sit by the fire unless he is aggressive and he is ruining the sanctity and peacefulness of the fire. Humans generally don't feel good when another human is out in the cold when they are warm and draped in fine clothes and have a full tummy. It is not how we are made, but humans who do not take care of themselves do not contribute and are hostile and slow down the processes of universal abundance are rightfully excluded. Contribution matters. Behavior matters.
Once we can determine that those humans who exclude themselves because they are hurt and angry and they are preyed upon perhaps by the group they have different politics or religion, then we have to look to a higher truth and a higher ideal, which in itself is ironic as it is actually a more basic level of human love. When Uli Stech, the climbing hero, saved som e nobody who should not have been climbing the mountain in the 1st place, he died. What a waste of a trul exceptional climber, but had he not, he would have been called a bad human.
Everybody has emotional baggage. We've all been hurt on the way, but people have different abilities in managing this hurt. For some people it's nothing, for others it can be a cause of a great issue in pain.
In this book I feel I am attempting to slightly push and remind the man at the top who has replaced or substituted human support for material distractions, or maybe he doesn't want contact with other humans because he has found them to be that their souls are not ripe yet to understand how to interact politely, fairly. For communities to interact with each other we do need rules.
Zeee Roolz.

Chapter 5

What feeling is this? A renewal, a knowledge that the search for the miraculous was worth every sweat and toil. Oh, what wondrous things exist once we can throw off our waking mundane existence. Worlds existing with sophistication which would baffle the most seasoned professor.
It’s all going around me, all the time, but we see it not. Only the raw, bare, sparse material. Vulgar prefab, ya hecho, convenience, and soulless post-1950s. The oppression of the tools of the saints and shamans has come with a steep cost; the worst of society is now leading us.
It’s up to us, the chosen few, to discover first ourselves and then see how that discovery can be best be implemented to take the world back to be the human paradise it could be.
It’s taken 40 years to know something. I did not ask for this. My parents would have been much happier had I been normal and accepted my fate with stoicism. But I was called, and I answered.
I trusted and got hurt, but I became wiser and my perceptions got better. I learned to feel with my heart and intuition and, when wrong, promptly admitted.
I learned to see with my eyes closed what inhabited my subconscious and beyond, in that shared darkness of soul in purgatory. My eyes were opened to more worlds than I could count with pen and paper. Multitudinous facets and permutations.
We are not alone. Never have been. There are conscious forces which guide our lives. Some will guide you to death. That’s why being aware matters, even when we are stupefied.
One small slip from this height and you might break yer neck, laddie.
Once you have died a few times, you become less afraid of death, knowing there are worse things than death. Our dreams are us, and the world will kill them. An unknowing, shallow woman might be worse than a beating from a horde of men. We are so tough yet so fragile. We are so smart yet so stupid, all at once. We are truly multilayered and live in multiverses.
It is beyond us; that’s why faith is our most cherished armour and guide, that whatever happens we will be alright. A healthy amount of care is also wise when working with spirits. Taking mountaineering climbs is only asking for trouble, unless you are the master Therion. It was the turn of the century and a different time. Ask Reinhold Messner better how to achieve this. He will say, if you die, you are not an adventurer anymore. You are a casualty.
We only need to know we can, if the time comes for us to be asked to do that.
Life is full of disappointments. As we mature we realise that our brain sets us up for most of the pain. And pleasure. Why are we? Indeed.
The Gnostics have some pretty good ideas about all that. This book is about my life.
I am a drug addict. I have been on Subutex for about half of my life. I find it keeps me normal.  It’s not easy, but neither is anything. The torments are terrible, but I have a modicum of control over my daily life. That is a blessing. I can nurture my soul and its connection to the Creator.
This seems more important than anything else. All kinds of work are pleasing to the creator. Not only working for the man, clock-punching the desperately tedious tasks to pay rent.  It’s fair on some level for some folk. I have done it, and it’s not without its merits.
Better to be poor and girdled in radiant truth and courage than A rich, inbred, isolated, fearful, undeserving wretch. Better to be loved for who you are than hated for who you’re not. And better to be hated for who you are than loved for who you’re not.
Rock and roll was the frame of the door. Music was the door. To enter it you had to be done with the external world of politeness and on the apparent side of good.
The world has many paths, not all leading to the kingdom of heaven. In fact, only a very small amount. Most lead to years of disequilibrialized brain chemistry.
The way I did it was with mistakes, but something immutable told me to press on. Being able to move around helped escape some of the chains of addiction. Other people will not let you step into a new and better version of you, because you might outgrow them.
It’s been very challenging, but it has been worth it, a kind of trepanation of the soul, to open the cracks wider to see more and let the light in. Risky and not without its burnouts, but to do it one’s own way and to survive and grow is the true lesson.
I have a weak disposition, and this led me down the rocky path into a gully where I nearly wanted to die, but in that barren land my cries were heard and answered. I was not alone. I had allowed a kind of misunderstanding to enter my core, and this now had to be rewoven into a working soul.
We all get scarred if we lived a life worth talking about. The world was made for the joy of a rich few who clearly have no guilt about their undeserved wealth. Their wealth is undeserved because it was made mostly from raw materials which they did not own and they only processed. The pioneers/workers deserved a bigger slice but the hedge fund managers gambling killed the world.
The faster I go to kill myself by working hard and hoarding all the material prizes, the longer I can hold out without any transformation. If I have a little, I will be forced into a smaller and smaller place with less quality food, less creature comforts, less respect from the established, etc.

I agree with the work ethic and being paid, and those who work hard, harder and longer, and have devoted more time should get more, but there is a massive economy based on just nepotism-style social skills and luck. I worked six years in a warehouse and it nearly killed me.

The Noetic Poetic
Book of Soul and Space
Kartography

An
Aeythermatic Transmission From
Zelatrixiana

Delivered to The God Intoxicated PsychoNaught,
Partickal37-Ted

A Journey thru the vast Epicentric Soul encompassing several Incarnations of
Self and more jibberjabberings
on just about
Everything under the sun
or deep below

where we make our own light.

The 7 Substances

The way the substances introduced to me in my life was like an initiation. One following the other, unfurling like a fractal, each a new frond, a part and parcel of the previous one, but offering something totally new and different. Each opening a whole new resonance of reality. New emotions, new thoughts, new visuals and feelings. New friends, new styles, new musics, new sexual thoughts, new geographies, new spiritual thoughts and religions, some ancient, some nascent. Although each was their own star in a solar system, they each represented another part of yourself, or fed another part of self, or created another part of self, or defined another part of self, or made us who we were.

Often they only augmented things we already loved and just made them better. Other times things we had seen every day were suddenly fascinating and beautiful, and other times something we had never liked suddenly we understood it and loved it wholeheartedly.

At first what brought us in was often the superficial want to fit in or copy someone we admired, but once these things reached you realised you’d just opened the door into a world so real that it made the consensus reality appear pitiful and misborn, the worst of a human trait realising itself into a permanent carbuncle on the face and eyes of everyone who was unlucky enough to have to see it or know it.

FIX

((((and you were all alone sitting outside, in just a facsimile or just just marking in rock, and now the world comes alive and you're part of that, there is no going back to who you thought you were and who the other told you you were, and that kind of freedom liberation is worth a life itself, and to never know it is fundamentally sad and live a life but also a safe on questioning easy rowing shallow slow moving stream contrast against a storm of life and a fight for the soul self a gambit between the forces of good and evil who both have just as much right and have just the same necessity as each other although we know the light perhaps has an edge over the darkness.))))

I'm glad to hear it.

My first experience with cannabis, which you don't really feel it the day it gets you, the day when you relinquish control and give it to the plant, and hopefully you'll be with a good friend on his floor with his cats and his bong and the music playing, preferably Pink Floyd, so your birth into this unknown world will be more like a pleasant afternoon spent with a friend giggling at how silly people play this life, and seriously they try to convince everyone of what they believe about themselves, and now everybody is standing naked in front of you, and it's an uproarious moment in any serious seeker's journey to self individuation. Or as I call it, infulcrumination.

One of the best things with the dope scene is the fellowship, but this is also one of the things that ruins people. I had fun smoking alone and I had fun smoking with the best of people, but whoever you smoked with definitely has to be a really good friend, because you've got to feel that you're allowed to be silly and piss your pants if necessary.

Music was suddenly felt, auras were seen, old curiosities or furniture gave off vibrations that could be good or bad, people gave off vibrations that could be good or bad. Suddenly you can see the world in the glasses that were meant for humans to see the world in, and those who don't want to see the world in those glasses will probably hate you for it. And if you want to you can then take off those glasses and return to the world as it was, slightly changed from your perception of it in a whole new way.

After many years of smoking begins lack of motivation, unwillingness to go to work, perhaps an amplified sexuality, a more mental focused and a more loving self perhaps is found after smoking cannabis for many years if anyone wants to enjoy it with a sacramental perception. I think reggae embodied the spirituality of cannabis most obviously over any other music, but every pothead knows any sophisticated music or even some quite primitive music can absolutely transport us to beautiful places in our mind, but also our body, because of the vibrational effect of music, so it has a two tone effect. And this is why the raves were so successful, because we could feel the bass between our body cavities whilst having a lot of ecstasy.

So I guess this book is about all of that. It's about being initiated into a new reality, but it's also about being reborn back into the shared reality with a better heart and better eyes to appreciate and understanding. It's about freaking out and getting crazy, but also observing solemn bacci practices in our life to find God within us to live a better life, because our society is hell bent on murdering us, so we have to gain an edge by making our life sacred even when we are eating fried chicken and addicted watching porn smoking with a leather strap around our penis and still know that we have chosen the sacred path of the world does not want us to have and find that once we have that we are never a slave again.

I want you to write a science-fiction, but in fact I don't have to make up anything. My life was a colourful fascinating screaming almost out of control journey of a serpent flying towards the sun and grabbing its own tail in the process and just framing the sun. I had no idea these things would happen. I did not try to make them. One thing led to another, one door opened another, I met all kinds of strange and wonderful people, I made all kinds of stupid boners when I shouldn't, all kinds of huge mistakes, and I was saved at the last minute when I completely thought it was all over a few times, and this is the story I want to tell.

Chapter 1

Well, most people were partying and trying things out and hoping it would get them the pretty girl they wanted, or win them a job as a popstar, or make them more good looking, or chasing money or position. I was scratching my head about what is reality, who are we, why are we, just what is all this from, actually from a really young age. And I have memories from when I was three and they're very telling, and having such a solid grip on the sense of being here, the presence of myself being here felt so eternal. I didn't have the same fear as others had. I knew I had to escape from this fixed, put upon, forced, decided, trapped reality that everyone inspired it felt to force me to stay in.

I knew that there had to be more to it all, and what I had at my disposal to try to understand this was what was there. We didn't know what we were doing, we were all trying it out, but I was the most trying it out, for the most quizzical in my search for these answers, and the most committed to finding out. And the closer I became to things, the more omens and signs I would see. New books would arrive, if they would answer the questions that I was searching for, and it seemed very planned, and it would be there whether I went looking for it or not. And the final substance that showed me that this whole journey was already planned, I was already supposed to do it, I only had to find it in myself that I was supposed to do it.

People who didn't have that journey would try to stop me, so I wouldn't get much help in trying to find it, but once I found it I knew it was on the right path. And here I am, and I'm still on the path, and I've deviated sometimes, and I've tried to take shortcuts that didn't work out, I've gotten plain lost, and I've met beasts in the woods and slept with the beasts. But now I have found my private world again, when I can start to think about everything that happened and why it did and what it all means and how can it effectively fit in with the rest of the world to improve this world that we live in, because it's gripped with misunderstanding and things are made harder rather than easier.

Every soulsearcher will come into conflict with the law or family or whatever religion they're born into, so you're really out on a limb when you do all this, and it might go horribly wrong, and you might end up addicted and homeless and despised and shagged in the ass against your will. You might think you wanted it, as how fucked up you'll be, but what you don't want it, and that's how fucked up it can get. And then if you're lucky someone else, whether it be a saviour or just another human being, will be out of hand and pull you back in yourself, and you realise that unique and individual as you are you aren't alone, and other people also have their cosmic journeys.

They may be there to help you, or they're there to teach you what's missing from yourself, or they're there to guide you, or they're there to show you what you should never do. I've come to the most unlikely of places and found the most valuable of treasures against all better judgement, and at the last moment when you think this was a big fuck up, what have I done, suddenly you realize this was meant to be.

And as great as and as high as we become will also be smashed down into 1 million bits for our presumptuousness. It's a fascinating question to postulate, not only who are we, but why are we.

And the best way to learn about this is an altered state of mind. It doesn't have to be with chemicals, it could be however you're able to get there. But for your average 20th century, grew up on television, pop music, and convenience culture, probably natural substances are the best way to go, unless you want to do 25 years of hard-core yoga.

If you understand what you're doing, you're able to ameliorate the negative side effects. If you allow yourself time to recover, if you take time to look for save things, if you look after your health, then these things are pretty safe, much safer than the stress that's put on you holding down a job or the stress that's put on you in a bad relationship. So really, in fact, a few handfuls of magic mushrooms to be shown infinity seems an excellent deal for anyone with an open mind.

And now in the 21st century we know so much more about certain setting that these things are so much safer. And in my time it was very difficult to even get these things, let alone find the right people, the right place, et cetera, et cetera. They're fascinating, mysterious, and difficult to pin down. They don't give up their secrets easily, but if you're able to find even one secret in it, it will have been well worth the journey and the risks you would've taken to find these things out. And you will know millions have never even thought about asking, and that is a priceless feeling, because now you know you are somebody in the cosmos. You don't even have to tell anyone when you know it, and that's another clear signal it is something sacred and not something that's easy to put in a bag and sell to somebody. It's a very intimate knowledge with the cosmos, the universe, and you are just another drop of water in a huge ocean, but now you know you're a drop of water in a huge ocean, which is much better than being completely clueless of that fact.

Cannabis and music was one of the first places to visit. Cannabis imbued the person who likes it with a joy like you've never known. I felt like my miserable puny life from an overbearing mother and too many changes had been transformed into a saint or an apostle, a beautiful morning star religion, where people would be exalted and thrill just to be alive and be around each other. But I could not pass that on to the people I lived with, and I heard the music and thunder through reality, and I knew this was the right choice for me.

For me cannabis was the right choice, but it's not for everyone. And when I smoked I felt joy, I felt clarity, I felt belonging in the world and with other people and myself, which I never felt before. I felt awkward, despised, stupid, and as soon as I started smoking it was like the work of the human being was clear, and it was about listening to God in all your dealings in the day and doing your life in the best way. And I'm not hugging hippie. I eat meat, I've been known to look at porn, I've even snorted, I even had a—I was even addicted to cocaine and heroin at some point. But this joy that very good cannabis can bring is one of the best feelings I've ever had, truthfully.

And if you're around good people and you're in a good time in your life and you have good activities to get on with, it's no wonder people start bands when they start smoking pot. Whether they'll be any good that's another story, and that doesn't matter. What happens is for a while they are joyful. And if that little herb can do that, then anyone denying the power of plants or trying to hinder the truth is truly an evil person, because those plants are part of our human experience. And those who try to separate the molecules and patent them and profit off them are desperately evil, sick people.

I lived under a prohibition for most of my life, and it's only about the last five years, at 52, that I've lived with some kind of drugs freedom. And the fear that was put into me to end up in jail for a pot or something else actually harmed the experience a lot. And we tended to hoard it, and we tended to overdo it, because we were afraid not to have it or we were afraid something would happen. So people in their 20s now who are just living while cannabis is available and legal, you should really count your lucky stars.

We had many years of fun jumping around in the woods being stoned. I was a tobacco smoker, so I mixed my cannabis, which I know in America is blasphemy, but we were in Europe and that's what we did over there. And we had a great time. And slowly cannabis led to magic mushrooms, and magic mushrooms like LSD, and LSD led to MDMA, and then MDMA led to speed, speed too much, MDMA then led to heroin, and heroin strangely ended up led to coke, which I never really understood, but that's what happened in my life.

But those are later chapters. Right now we're focusing on cannabis and the truth of the cannabis molecule, and that it is sacred, and you can meet God after you develop a strong relationship with cannabis. And if you doubt me just ask the sadhus in India. They will tell you that's true as well. And they have been around a lot longer than you, maybe 10,000 years, 5 to 10,000 years. The Indus Valley was doing its thing.

Although cannabis can make better lovers and greater orgasms, a more fluid and sensual and spiritually pleasant approach to lovemaking, cannabis also can make us monks and those who reject the more base aspects of society. When we find with this little plant we can make ourselves happy, creative, focused, hermetic, we start to wonder if society really is for us, and we start to look for another universe or world or realm to live in, because we know we don't belong in this one. And cannabis opens up that place in reality where you can really sprawl your mind rather than just staying in one basic mind that you've been in school watching TV blah blah blah, basically some people never break out of.

And cannabis and many other things can do that, but cannabis definitely does that, presents a whole new reality. And if you talk to people who are into those realities they're usually a lot less coy and childish about spiritual things than those who have never been to those realities, who look uncomfortable and giggle childishly when someone tries to talk about those things.

So, so cannabis connected me with something divine that wasn't the picture of a dying man nailed across it. It was something vibrant. It was something alive. It was nature. It was healthy. It was goodness. It was love. It was also chasing girls, something that regular society could not offer. And at the time it was prohibited, so we created more of our subculture fellowship, perhaps, in there really was. And within that subculture one starts to meet people who don't like cannabis, they like other things, and that's gonna lead us into the next chapter.

Before we begin the next chapter I'd like to recall a few cannabis stories. One story, and this is absolutely true, found in my heart, and one in the Bible. I had at the right age of about 17, in 1990, bought a Pink Floyd album, which is a bootleg of them playing in Germany in 1971. And we laughed about the name Germersheim, previously finding it so funny to Anglicise linguistic patterns, only to find myself working there in 2017 for five years for the AA exchange.

Another amazing story was coming back from India with 200 g of charas in my shoe on the whole. I wouldn't say I was a pure atheist, I was more of an agnostic. And I was stopped by customs, looking emaciated after 5 1/2 months in India. And they stopped me, and the first thing they looked at was the shoes. And the officer pulled back the insole, looked directly at the charas, which was wrapped in bandage tape and perhaps did look like part of the sneaker, and he did not see it.

Before this moment I had given up and thought it's a fair cop, I will be in a cell. It didn't seem that bad, as I was back in England and I was half starved from giardia and dysentery after the five months. But the amazing moment when I realised he had not seen the charas, so if I just removed my clothes and rather alluringly I said, do you want to check inside my bum, and then they said quickly put my clothes back on and let me off with mirth.

After this moment I must say I did believe in God. I believe that something said my existence was greater as a seeker of life and light than a person who had to regret his existence because he dabbled with things that supposedly fried the brain.

Most of the time we lived in prohibition, so cannabis was a big part of our life. But as I got older I realised that too much wasn't good. It hampered socialising and meeting girls.

I have been reading Castaneda and Bhagwan Shri Rajneesh and Kurt Vonnegut, and I was a huge fan of the 60s music. And so the idea of psychedelics appealed to me. Everything with the altered state appealed to me, and so we probably tried this way too young. We first had some shrooms and got some of a high, but it was probably more a fake high.

Finally we had the real trips. It was sometime ago, it's hard to recall, but thought and emotion were close allies. I learned they should be carefully observed, because if not, a thought could grab an emotion and take us running down some adventure completely unbridled, and who knows where we would end up.

We tripped up in the Brecon Beacons. We picked and tripped, made a fire, drank Scrumpy Jack cider, and generally had a great time and made memeories which were fuzzy in the mind but firm in the heart, running around and bumbling around and occasionally falling over in pure mirth, cheer and awe. The Stars look like Cathedrals in the sky. But at one point I remember one day when we gobbled up a handful of mushrooms and we were laughing uncontrollably until suddenly the energy shifted to something quite dark. And then I remember thinking these are sacred sacraments, and laughing like a couple of fools was only gonna bring misfortune.

This was around 1989–90, and my family were living in Long Island, New York. My Dad was in DC, and I was trying to stay in England even though my family wanted me to be out in Long Island. Long Island was an Irish Italian enclave with Soprano type characters everywhere, and I was into mysticism, Hindu myths, the 60s, altered states. And at the time England was really the place to be.

The New Age hippie festival scene was about to converge with the Acid house scene which was beginning, and the music was coming from Detroit, America, imbued with Roland 303 weird squelchy sound which defined an era. About this time too the store “Strange Attractions,” with its Mandelbrot fractals, were becoming more and more ubiquitous, as we had already sat many times with M. C. Escher’s impossible designs, tripping on small amounts of fairly good quality LSD. The appreciation of the visual was just one of the amazing visual things returned to TV generation.

In 1989 we visited the Womad festival in Reading, and we had had some White Lightnings or Purple Ohms, which was homemade acid, which was actually pretty good. And I could hear this undulating pulsating deep sound resonating through everything. I could feel them inside of me and coming from the Earth, and I knew there was something mysterious to be discovered.

And I bumbled around the festival, finally to find where the source was coming from, and it was two guys with didgeridoos blasting them through heavily distorted amps. I had found my heaven. The material Earth matter had metamorphized into vibrational frequency and sound. I had found the resonant frequency. We were sound waves slowed down into matter, and the fractals from Mandelbrot was a visual image of what was going on all around me.

I knew I'd taken too much, and I knew returning to normal reality with the social structural hierarchical reality that I lived in had been completely deconstructed. I almost didn't know who I was anymore, but I knew I discovered something fascinating and important. And it didn't matter that I was the control and the scientist overseeing the experiment. I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life.

“To discover just one of these things, I wouldn’t care if they did think I was crazy.”

Whether these altered states were within us, or could they be transmitted and shared in a group setting, and what would be possible with this new knowledge and power. I became obsessed like Roy Neary in Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind, and alienated just about everyone.

There were two kinds of people in the world at this time, at least for me: those who had taken LSD and those who had not. LSD was like discovering the symphony you were hearing was crafted from the same molecules that made you up, and then perhaps discovering your whole being was one of those notes in the symphony. Once again a snake devouring a seven tail. Ouroborous.

Having a Latin American mother gave me the kind of presence in this scene as a sort of shaman coming from the jungle and understanding these altered states from a perspective of the source of life being nature. And we South American Shamans being closer to nature were closer to God in some way, and we would understand these strange natural phenomena that psychedelics opened us up to, much more than your average Western European or American gringo, who is a staunch materialist and would only scoff at things like “I can feel your energy,” et cetera.

But where did this all start? Our bookshelf in the house had Carlos Castaneda, and his descriptions in the 1st and 2nd book were so inspiring to me. I was born with this insatiable curiosity. Although it had started to become clear that life itself was “trippy” enough, it was also too much. I did not fit anywhere.

This was back in the 80s and 90s, when if you didn't tow the line or toe the line you were quickly sent to some unknown place to be corrected, or so I was led to believe. It was important not to go mad. That I did know.

Mushrooms were organic, ancestral, energetic, an initiation onto the mind of God and our ancestors. Delving deep in Jung’s pool of unconsciousness, wherever we thought deed dream from every human who had ever been was stored, so it had been said. I knew I wasn't like the rest. I don't know how I knew it, I just knew it. For me, thinking was all I wanted to do all day.

I was thinking about why things were and how they should be and what had happened to make them how they should not be. I saw the leftovers of a dying culture continually imposed upon us, whilst those doing the imposing seemed to have vacated their mind and soul a long time ago, save for a couple of luminaries, which communicated the idea to me that becoming the person I truly was was as important as any great discovery. And after I knew who I was truly, I should do all I could to make the world more how I felt it should be.

The fact that I've been born between two cultures and grown-up in a third indicated to me that I was not like the rest, grown-up in one culture with two parents from one culture. And I had many strange urges, and occasionally I got to realize some of them, but I was never like the rest. Maybe I was an early starter but a late developer. Early to the game, but tiring of it quickly.

I loved the music of the 60s, and I found the notion that there was a substance that could completely change your mind and our perceptions very appealing. Because for me reality felt like someone had sold their dream, and the rest of their life, they had to live with no one knowing who they really were. And if they ever did show who they really were, they were quickly beaten down until they should not be different, and there was something wrong with them for being that way.

I experimented with LSD with close friends, and magic mushrooms before that. And I had a few different trips. One was with judge dreads watching Quadrophenia, a few times in the woods in the Brecon Beacons, running around golf courses at night, feeling like this is the life I wanted. Life's mysteries were being shared to us if we had the right qualities and we were worthy for those truths to glean themselves onto us.

When one was under the influence of psychedelics, the smallest item or idea would become a gargantuan puzzle to work out. And one would never let this go until the puzzle was completely worked out. And sometimes the puzzle was us, and understanding our emotional language and our mammalian actions.

Trying to go beyond the base and the easy and the convenience and the physical into a world where the spirit was exalted, and we had a great purpose, and we had been given great things with which to do these purposes. And always after one of these trips some reward would come, some renewed idea and understanding of self, which later on in my life on occasion I could implement into my daily life and improve my existence, which was a huge thing before people threw around the words like they do now.

Everyone said you're crazy, what are you doing? But within these molecules everyone who did them knew if God was to be discovered, if there was a God and he was discoverable, then these things were going to do the discovering.

Although there are many timeless and true verses and lessons within the Bible, I believe much of it was misunderstood, and I believe it was hijacked. And so schisms between those following the gourd and those following the shoe. It's a holy book that can be applied in life, but it depends how you apply it. And if you deny yourself too much you become a mean person who obsesses about who is going to hell and masks in priority/peity and righteousness.

If we allow those supposed sins, because they have come to us and there was a reason there for this, and the reason is that we have to know ourselves, and this is one of the main tenets of the Bible and Christian thought, Agnostic thought, and Buddhist thought. And nearly every spiritual thinking acknowledges that life is a journey, and there are things that we will learn about ourselves. And if we deny everything because someone wrote this 2000 years ago and it was probably changed a few times in history, and we're afraid we'll burn in hell, how will we be able to know anything.

So like Einstein said, the God of Spinoza is probably the one I follow too.

When one was under the influence of LSD one would look at something and the soul would yearn to talk about how it made you feel, how beautiful it was, how sophisticated creation was, how the design is not only beautiful but functional. And within it there were many layers of scientific understanding. Everything was a question, and if we searched deep enough the answers would reveal themselves.

Often I said to myself that if we had just stayed with mushrooms and LSD out in the countryside we probably would’ve been much better off five or ten years later. But it was 1989–90, and raves were becoming a thing, and we thought this is pretty cool. And I remember my first half ecstasy was like nothing I would ever forget.

CHAPTER 3

So the grand relationship came in the group gatherings under the bass bins going on for days. And after about two or three years we discovered this one group of parties where the music was much better, people were really taking LSD, and it seemed to have connected with ancient Hindu culture, which was not its first time around with cannabis or mind-altering tricks.

The first raves were so innocent. And although I had normalised pornography from about 1989 or sooner earlier, I found myself looking at the most beautiful women without wanting to penetrate or for any dominant sexual engagement. Perhaps I just wanted to stroke them. The skin felt like it was swimming in a kind of liquid fire of beautiful feelings. And breath was God, and everything was just magnificent and beautiful.

And if the music was good, the touch of people sometimes felt like the stroke of an angel in all her liquifousness. Liquid airy love touching the soul, but also the skin, and very little with the genitals, and very little with grabbing or groping or desperation, and all with giving and sharing and loving.

It was the most fabulous loving. But we were so young we didn't really know how special it was. But we knew we were really happy to be there, and we knew something special had happened. That the right kind of substances were being bequeathed to the human race so it could learn to love better, kinder, true, gentle, with respect, with patience, with awesomeness for the other.

Of course when things are so good and you think it's all in a pill, you do it more and more. And then you realise these things, this beauty, will hide themselves from your desperate addictive fruit-machine mindset that wants a quick payout. And for this I remain eternally grateful in my heart of hearts. The way love, true love and light, is hiding itself from my mortal selfish emptiness still humbles me today.

We thought, oh great, more of this pill. And at this time they started out very good, but once the criminals had realised what they could get away with they were sometimes £20 a pill. Once the secret got out, of course all the junk arrived. Bad pills, bad people, speed, cocaine, and other things took their place there.

But the first couple of parties, with very special MDMA and very special LSD, with very special music and people, were something that mutated us all and showed a very different possibility for humanity. And it showed the world we lived in was just a horrible bum rush for material acquisition, to be better than someone else. And advertising affirmed this, and people’s attitudes affirmed it even more.

But initially, around 1989–91, 92–93, it was still very, very special and new. The new travelling scene converged with acid house and house music, with eastern spirituality and instruments, and some very good minds started working on the music and the technology to deliver a very special, safe, sustainable experience.

In any place in the world any person could access this key, which was dancing to music of repetitive beats, which awful British Government tried to ban with the Criminal Justice Act, which pointlessly and censoriously hurt a lot of people's lives. And after all, we were just kids out there experimenting, learning what love is, what sex is, how to live our lives in this capitalist gone-wrong nightmare.

This was before the Internet came and the world shifted, and the idea of thinking and sharing and resolving and creating became the cornerstone for the new future, which we are now starting to live in.

I'm one of the lucky few men who has made love to a woman peaking on ecstasy at the right age of 17 or 18, and normally I remain grateful for my whole life. It was so special and beautiful and graceful. Unfortunately, the lucky lady who was with me I lost touch with, because she was straight edge and she hated the idea of any drugs, so once again vicious but absolute humour and chiding this experience by me.

After a couple of years it became more difficult to take LSD at the parties, and we found that just taking ecstasy was much easier. But slowly we were wearing down our serotonin and dopamine centres and losing our place in the normal world, because many of us couldn't work. And if we weren't part of the trustafarian set movement in London in the early 90s, we were kind of fucked, and I was one of those who was kind of fucked.

One day, after a particularly excessive party, I can hardly remember, but some popular label and we'd had many pills, and somehow managed to come back to a friend's house. But the comedown was pretty bad with the pills. I'd been at it for a couple of years, I believe, often on. And these particular pills were not excellent quality. And I think we did speed and some LSD as well, and a few beers and cannabis. And I'd been dancing for hours and hours.

My back felt absolutely raw, like there was no cartilage left between the spinal blocks. Somebody was chasing the dragon, which was smoking heroin on tinfoil. And although it smelt absolutely awful, it was passed to me, and someone told me it would help. And I had the first hits, this acrid tasting smoke. I don't think I threw up, but I felt very nauseous.

But all this tightness from the suppressed sexuality, I think this night I did not get a woman to help me with this, and the pains in the back from dancing, and the spiky terrible feeling of using up all the serotonin and dopamine in your brain, and everything was painful and terrible, and it felt like the end of the world, and you did not have the resources to go on. Suddenly all this just flew away into the strength of this potent animal smoke, which seemed like an angel kiss in the first three months of my relationship with it, or perhaps even the first year.

But by the second year I was addicted, and then I was a slave to some awful natural chemical, which was difficult to get, and it was expensive. And when you didn't have it you would get very sick. After two years, due to not having enough money, I was forced to inject just to save money. It was the mid 90s, and although we had a lot of power for being young, there was only so much a person could go through before their self just gives up.

I have since taken care of the problem, but it looks like I will have to stay on an agonist for the rest of my life, because life's just manageable while I'm with it and impossible without. If very good opiates were available I would do them all right now. But they generally aren't, and the journey to get them is full of risk. And nowadays if you get caught they will just fine you into bankruptcy.

So it's better just to stay on the prescribed medication, and that keeps me out of trouble. And I still have my thoughts and my music and my art and my relationships and my life and my love. There is someone recently pointed out the Epsom troughs aren't there, but neither is the specialness of the moment. But in this world it seems better to be slightly medicated to tolerate witnessing the fall, hopefully not of the world that you never have been, but we try to make it so out of the love in our hearts. But you can't win with a losing hand.

When the music was creative and analog and the sound system was good and the people were smart and kind, and the substances pharmaceutical grade, and the nature that someone had decided to put the party on in was sublime, it was truly a privilege to be there.

The connections you made with people you'd never see again sometimes, all the person really needed was some validation from a like-minded psychonaut. Someone who also believed in an ongoing mission to search the inner galaxy for life, to learn to live for love, to be worth the sacrifice of our existence.

Poems.

Wayfinding is The Mariner

There is no road and he has no map
 it was shaped from breaking waves, under a deluge, tied to the mast, our weary traveler,
getting thrown around like a top,
With only his minds eye to focus,
some memories
and counting time
marked by compass and flask,
He wills and weighs
His way home.

He makes the course safe,   he knows the hows and whys,
to the left yaw and perish to the right,
an appreciative snarl, his eyes cut thru diamonds.
 Batten down the hatches,
back to work again, like some half-lit mariner humming the coordinates home,
the song
keeps the stars in tune
and on loan
to be visible,
Is the only way he’s ever known.

The clouds thunder and bring the evening rains, more tremors and pains,
shivers and glum,
A neat swig of fire and honey,
Will vanquish and stare down
even the most
Persistent stowaway and trouble maker.  
No rage, no fear,  pure precision and purpose, held in trance,
unburdened by ambition,
he holds fast,
until
daintily the ocean lifts his
sloop, on her broad waves
And our traveler of sea and space,
rests momentarily in her arms.

The tune calls him home and now
Everything dances, sways to the waves of
The Mariners way-finding tune.

O listener—this is your cue: The world won’t end, but it will shift. Attend the spaces in between, be present as the moments drift.
Some songs are questions without words. Some riffs recall what birth forgets. To navigate is not to flee— but trust the dark, and cast your nets.

VAMPIRE RAVER STORY
Once upon a moonlit night in the heart of Berlin, where the echoes of history mingle with the pulsating beats of electronic music, there existed a clandestine gathering like no other. Deep within the labyrinthine alleys of the city, concealed from the prying eyes of the mundane world, a secret rave thrived, drawing in the most eclectic and enigmatic of crowds.
Unbeknownst to many, among the revelers of this nocturnal carnival were creatures that lurked in the shadows, creatures that had long been whispered about in hushed tones and fearful whispers. They were the Nazi vampires, remnants of a dark past that had woven itself into the fabric of the city's underground.
Among the unsuspecting attendees was a traveler, a wanderer whose path had led him to this pulsating heart of debauchery and danger. Drawn by the allure of the unknown and the promise of escape from the mundane world, he found himself amidst a sea of neon lights and pounding bass, surrounded by faces both human and otherworldly.
As the night wore on and inhibitions dissolved under the influence of potent concoctions and forbidden substances, the true nature of the gathering began to reveal itself. Amidst the frenzied dance of bodies, the Nazi vampires moved with an otherworldly grace, their eyes gleaming with an ancient hunger that transcended mere mortal desires.
Drawn to the traveler like moths to a flame, they circled him with predatory intent, their whispers laced with promises of ecstasy and damnation. In their midst stood their leader, a figure shrouded in darkness and draped in the tattered remnants of a bygone era. With a voice like velvet and steel, he beckoned the traveler closer, offering him a taste of power and pleasure beyond mortal comprehension.
In a haze of drugs and desire, the traveler succumbed to the allure of the vampire's embrace, his senses overwhelmed by a rush of sensations both euphoric and terrifying. As the night reached its zenith and the boundaries between reality and nightmare blurred, the traveler felt something primal stir within him, a hunger that mirrored that of his newfound companions.
In a moment of clarity amidst the chaos, he realized the true nature of his predicament. He was not merely a spectator in this macabre spectacle; he was a pawn in a game of ancient and unfathomable stakes. With every beat of the music and every pulse of the neon lights, his soul was being slowly devoured, consumed by forces beyond his understanding.
Desperate to break free from the vampire's grip, the traveler summoned every ounce of strength and willpower within him, fighting against the tide of darkness that threatened to engulf him. With a final, defiant cry, he tore himself away from the thrall of the rave, fleeing into the night with the echoes of his tormentors' laughter ringing in his ears.
As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, the traveler emerged from the shadows, his body battered and bruised, but his spirit unbroken. Though the memory of that fateful night would haunt him for years to come, he knew that he had faced the darkness and emerged from its grasp, a testament to the resilience of the human soul in the face of unspeakable evil

Virbalations of Ancient truth.

The granular truth.

The laments of the righteous ring forth.

Through the din of mass insanity,
The holy trinity demands of Us these 3 questions. .

How are we?

Who are we?

Why are we?

“I am the dot at the centre of a great sphere”. One of the selves proudly, exclaims, becoming timid, not wanting to awaken the wrath’s of fates deadly disinterested strikes.

We wade forth into huge spaces and further on, until we reach the seas of the Sklargenkraag, and there we rest and float oceanic in the deep Aethers. Dimension hopping and staying out of any rays of strangeness.

The ascetics of the ecstatic, live here, I am told.

I feel manageably damaged and the fire takes me away for aeons to a warm familiar firm feelings

The fire crackles of sticks, and stones, of snakes and scrolls all changing and mutating ravaging and dying to be born again.

The journey continues Onwards deep within this eternal space of images, dynamic Energetix, and Chaos creatures,
Half thoughts which once lived with emotions as their life force, now just bits of dismembered humans, bereft of life,
mis-births of folly and previous selves float around lifelessly in the vast container of self. I look deep within and can recognize the previous lives. I feel shame and contempt, witnessing the horror of previous selves.
We proceed onwards at first light.

Why Are You?

Why are you?

Why am I?

Why are we?

Why are we here in this vast sea of existence? 

Is it to serve, to worship, to toil in deep mines, To grow like a tree or harvest pollen like a bee?
 Or are we beetles with eternal precision,  ambling in armor to unknown destinations,  journeying as slow as the sun moves through the sky?

Why do I see for thousands of miles,  within myriad dreams, infinite fragments and worlds? 

Why do I feel pain, pleasure, and love? 

Why do I want to bark at the moon, Yet find ecstasy in the elegance and clarity of math?

 I appreciate fine art and dainty beauty, observe its priceless-ness and yet keep gambling on life.

I can feel my siblings’ agonies,  yet hold onto my own little comforts and security.  I can grab and hold or coax and flirt,  either it's given or flatly denied.

A gaping wound, my only constant,  moving slowly through the tunneling,  trying to stay ahead of time,  not to be caught out of time, Champion of success,
or named and shamed,  The humiliated before the village square.

To barter one’s life, to earn the honor of one's peers?  To walk tall, or hunched? To be loved or despised? To work hard or languish in the midday sun and late afternoon.

Why are we here? To ingest and imbibe,  to digest and feel good,  to wash it all out and free it into the sewers?
The satisfying motions of an animal,  still tethered to the physical,  unable to fly except within our vast micro selves.
 Why are we here?

Will a future come of intergalactic planetary beings?  Or mammals unknown to their true self, but still with technology beyond their hearts and minds to manage?
 Or some carbon-based hybrid, experiment of cross DNA,  an alien kid’s project?

Or are we Gods in process, Waiting to become and self realise
And take flight,  joining worlds and splitting atoms, Scaliing Exalted heights and fulfilling the ultimate
Sacrifices in all we do.

This stick stirred my soul, flailing in its crucible and earth flames burnished the gnarled and unique self permanently.

Your gaze stopped me in my tracks. Questioning the Reasons and the Reasoning for everything. Wondering just what I'm to do now, haunted
with those beautiful alluring time halting eyes. I fall in slumber under their spell. Until I must wake again far away alone in purgatory. Just a glimmer of a dream once dreamed.
Within the sounds they had encoded Fragments of words and that a gifted person with the right brain could discern those words and a holy book was being transmitted and only a very few could hear it, and the creators of the music had embedded a language that only the initiated could only hear and know where it was going to go. This marvelous motor engine. This Sonic reactor of truth, I was a witness and one of very few.

POEM
My soul is a chasm thirsty to express my affection for you.
But,
I am just a bug nestled in a bird's nest here.
In some far off misty land.
Thank you for yesterday's talk and every single other one because you're one of the reasons my inner Darkness shines with twinkles sharing things.
Try not to forget that even in the difficult moments, even in the ones I make inadvertently for you.
I might be inconsistent but I am the real deal.

The journey of life is greater than the prizes offered along the way

Life is so bountiful even at the bottom smudge gutter there is beauty in things.

The ones who drive cars are as miserable as the ones who walk en in dirty places.

Life is a process of finding out things about ourself we don't like by observing other people.

Unfulfilled horniness festers in the soul

We are mighty and beautiful

LET THE HEART RING PURE WITH BEAUTY AND TRUTH

Work is the only salvation for the average individual for it teaches us humility and accomplishment which begets gratitude through effort.

Religion is for men who are afraid of themselves
Flower of life is within Metatrons cube...first link of this flower, the pescia vecis is justice.
I sit there.

A soul is what you earn and are once you have freed yourself from the pull and delusion of the base, animal and physical energies and influences that plague the average self.

That is the source of all riches of sense, knowledge understanding, knowing, feeling, loving, ascending beyond the average normal and physical realm.
Let me find the new world that's an old man to escape Death The Devil's dastardly plan to arrive back home like a warrior after the fight to make the best love to my most amazing wife

Let me find the keys that were once lost to open the door that we forgot existed to find the song which opens the heart to the riches of love till death do Us departs.

Let me find the right step on the right notes and the right time to catch the tides of life and it's waves and tubular rhymes

Let me never missed step let me never grow cold whipping up dishes for the Kings and the poor.
[10.02.26, 13:15:44] Ted Mathew: To not come victim of the Jive. To not buy in to the fools ideals

Not to be in the group waiting with a bad karma person who slows it all down.
Fluid, fluent, fleißig and fine that's the way the world drinks its wine. And they are the grapes pressed and squeezed to make a bad wine which no one needs.
Whining, complaining hating and such is sticky gum caught in the gears ruining the flow of speed and flight.

The simple mind wants the easy answer. The experienced mind knows every truth has an exception.
In the knowing is where you got lost.

LET THE HEART RING PURE WITH BEAUTY AND TRUTH

On this glorious day, whilst staying in La Paz, Bolivia, more than 20 years ago, we had decided to go search and harvest some San Pedro cactus(Trichocereus pachanoi).
My new found friends took me to the edge of this city's impoverished backsides and after hiking for a couple of hours in abandoned places right on the edge of the high altitude city, in an empty lot, with wild vegetation growing, we found a huge 13 pointed Star shaped San Pedro cactus, which was gargantuan even by their own experience, and we proceeded with some difficulty to harvest some of it. We grabbed a rope and used it as a saw and relieved this giant cactus of one of her branches and using a tarp dragged that untouchable plant back to my place.

Once we had brought our harvest back home, it took us some days to properly prepare the stuff. We were staying in a nice area of La Paz and worked on the patio. The process was laborious.

Some days after all this process, the Shaman, his Argentinian sidekick, and I chewed it up with some water and went exploring in the hills. To the surprise of the Shaman and myself, our Argentinian friend suddenly decided to take Angel's Trumpet at the last minute. (Datura) We knew that it wouldn’t be much fun for him and added a level of risk for all of us, but that’s what he wanted to do, and we weren’t going to talk him out of it. Each person is on their own trajectory in this life and that has to be respected. However, I thought to myself, maybe sometimes, it’s better just to join in with what’s going on around you, rather than to carry on with your own particular idea.

I was with my two new found “compadres' and off we set out to discover and explore nature and face the ever gnawing questions asked of renegades like us.
Just why are we here? Or rather, why are we? Just what are we and what is “reality”, were questions, deep in my heart which gnawed at my brain, it seemed all the time. It was 1999.
I felt like a child again, walking through the nature with new found friends, a place where everything was a new and curious discovery, and everything had an interesting, enticing veneer and quality which invited us into a love affair with it. The magnificent construct of nature, clearly created by an atomic mathematician, who was a poet and an extravagant mad artist. Every leaf and blade of grass was its own symphony and its own magnificent construct, and had its own way to beat time and elements, and as the nature enveloped us all around, we being part of it slowly. Everything was interesting and the relationship between life, death, matter, spirit, emptiness and form was in constant interplay.

My 2 new compadres, were expecting a progressive woke ambassador of psychedelics and a spiritually wholesome counter culture good guy coming from the UK.
By then I had gone beyond accepting only psychedelics as tools to look into the infinite.
I had started with mushrooms and LSD but the Acid House days had crept upon us and other compounds like XTC, were getting disseminated to the young people, and they too had their wisdom to impart. Once MDMA had shown itself to also be a worthy candidate for spiritual change, my guard went down and pretty soon I accepted, speed, coke, heroin as the others.
Gateways to infinity.
Obviously this was huge mistake which I spent decades trying to make right again.

I had tried all the well known psychedelics, many times and a few of the more obscure ones, always mindful of set and setting, but in the last few years the illegal rave parties, early 90s London, had wrecked the serotonin and dopamine centres in my brain and slowly heroin had become a necessity, to deal with the brutal come downs, from iffy capsules and combos and 3 day raves, and the new universe, invoked in the pagan dawn under a massive bass bin of Techno music, had expelled me, for some unknown sin and I had fallen from a great height and I lost the magick, the ancestral connection which comes from proper use of the psychedelic sacrament. I had allowed the rave parties to confuse what was a Bona fide, sacred means to know more, and transposed it with unsustainable practises which were rooted in hedonism, nihilism, sensuality, and living within a cultural “scene”.

As Intrepid Psycho-Naughtical explorers, we were about to begin a soul journey where we would surely be tested judiciously by the natural and the universal, woven into the fabric of reality but also deep within the self where the original God Funken Spark lives, the ever emitting energetic pulses was visible, and the mantle of appearance was just the shroud covering every living being to give it some quality of Is-ness to the partaker. .

A ruthless landscape where these extraordinarily tough barrel chested people had set up camp. A third world hold out against capitalist hegemony and the ever toxic “interest on loans society” and credit material society in which we all live.
This was the kind of place, existing out on an edge, which reminds us to be grateful for those things which come to us, in this life to learn, shaping us into something more than clock punchers and material consumers, much much more, while also reminding us not to forget to cherish the convenient creature comfort’s which make life pleasant and tolerable. We were not in the breeze block ram shackle streets anymore, we were in the beginnings of the jungle.

The universe appeared as a massive wave of conscious, energetic, myriads of forms from the tiny, to the all encompassing, everything imparted a richness and uniqueness and depth, a beauty which the soul had yearned to engage with, not knowing with what it cried out for, well this was it. The communion with nature and the celebration of being alive an finally being able to see the world as it was meant to be seen.
Or was this all “just” Ancient Alien Tech, which had been tinkering away for Aeons to create this, interrelated, perfectly functioning natural machine, from the very simple to the infinitely complex we were in Gods Garden once again. The questions ran around my mind like a feeding fish frenzy, any brain pushing just to hold on to one or 2 of these magnificent ideas. Just what is the final answer to the question of, what or who or why is man? What lay between the concurred shared reality and the visions from the self? why was this somewhat risky voyage of self discovery such an obsession? Is the universe just a random happening or is there intelligent design and purpose behind the intricate, sublime forms and the ever unfurling reality which never stops even if we do, where does IT all go? Where did it all come from?

Just what would we find in the epic natural backdrop that we found ourselves in? Did the fateful forces which brought us together have greater plans or was this just another run of the mill gringo introduction to the wonders or perils of the San Pedro Cactus?

I had already been at rehab for opiate use disorder, I was about 28 at the time, and my track record was not a happy healthy well adjusted hippie, it was a slap dash mad run through, all psycho-pharmacological states, as many as I could get my hands on, through many realities and experiences, to test my limits and hopefully discover the very workings of this reality, a kind of personal General Unified Field theory of Everything. I knew psychedelics could help with the beginnings of the answers to such questions.
But the fails had become all too clear. Unemployed, not an earner, not interested in the “real world”, or getting a career started, or raising kids etc. I was only motivated to discover the Holy Grail within.
I felt the wish to return to the place where escape is not needed, because the individual had accepted that right speech, right thought and right action were the only way to go. As In Buddhism, which I believe, is an extremely solid functioning instructional manual to live a better life.

But we needed love and sex, and victory, and style and skill, and a good place within the social material hierarchy.
No more disappearing into Lucifer's lair, with a sortie of different salt crystals and powders, “and another girl to take my pain away”, but a clean living, more present, kinder, perhaps less competitive individual in God's creation.

These agents were teaching us to be more of this and much less of that. They knew the future and if wanted to be a part of it, well, we were going to have to change the twisted inferences which 3 decades of tv watching, a divorced and transient uninspired family life had brandished on my psyche.

My new friends were expecting the healthy living, green loving, tree hugging hippie, who had a good reliable heart all the way through. I may have wanted to be that, because it’s safe and wins one a place “in certain scenes” and i thought, it was pleasing to God, The Creator, but I wasn’t. I was a maladjusted desperate chaser and user of many cerebral lusts and the urge to escape from the trappings of my own skin and identity were powerful and nearly every waking moment was spent trying to jar myself out of a feeling of dread, utterly overwhelmed, always poor, disliked, misunderstood, unable to focus even a bit, having no control over my life, and no ability to commit to anything.

But perhaps it wasn’t a quantifiable knowledge I sought but I needed to come to terms with the language of poetry, music, dance, and art for those were the cyphers that the hidden true universe required for an individual to come to know and express those wonders.

The trip winded down, the Argentinian, managed a small glimpse of a smile, my pastoral, and benign Shaman friend and introducer to the Gentle, the Marvellous, the Manifold, San Pedro Cactus, knew his job had been done, and another “desperate to escape from facing reality”, Gringo, realised there was nothing to run from or run to, when we listened to the wise, ancestral voice within, as a friend and guide.
We said goodbye and we returned to our homes. I’m not going to say that I was cured or did not spend a few more years with the risky hedonistic substances, I’m going to say that God lives within these sacred compounds and if we can devote some time to being better humans through the sensible use of them, then even the very lost hungry, hurt souls can become once good again complete people with potential and goals. Conscientious, kind, aware people.

CHAT GPT VERSION 1500 WORDS.

On this glorious day, whilst staying in La Paz, Bolivia, more than 20 years ago, we had decided to go search and harvest some San Pedro cactus (Trichocereus pachanoi). My new friends took me to the edge of the city’s impoverished backsides, and after hiking for a couple of hours through abandoned areas on the high-altitude fringe, in an empty lot with wild vegetation, we found a huge 13-pointed star-shaped San Pedro cactus—gargantuan, even by their standards. We grabbed a rope, used it as a saw, and relieved this giant of one of her limbs, and dragged it back to my place with a tarp.
It took us days to properly prepare it. We worked on a patio in a comfortable part of La Paz. The process was laborious.
Some days later, the Shaman, his Argentinian sidekick, and I chewed it up with water and set off exploring the hills. To our surprise, the Argentinian decided—last minute—to take Angel's Trumpet (Datura). We knew it wouldn’t be fun for him and added risk for us all, but each soul follows its own path, and we respected that. And so we were off, into nature and mystery—to chase the gnawing questions that haunt renegades like us.
 Why are we here? No—why are we? The ever prodding, inciting from us quests and risks, to find answers to the ultimate philosophical question, why are we?
Everything in the hills felt ancient but like I was a child again. Every rock, leaf, breeze shimmered with runes, faces and soul, drawing us into communion with it. Nature, crafted by a divine poet-mathematician, an abundance of poetic structures, ongoing ancient sagas, and an unmistakable “Is-ness” to everything. Even the tracks on the mud road made by the occasional 4x4 were like grand unseen works of art and a feast for the senses . Life, death, spirit, matter, rapture—all interplaying and dancing without hierarchy or importance. Everything mattered.
My companions expected a progressive, wholesome counterculture psychedelic ambassador from the UK.
Unfortunately I had long since moved psychedelics as the only keys to self knowledge. I started with Cannabis, like many do, then mushrooms( liberty caps…if you know you know) and then finally, the one that people do not return from, LSD. After a couple of short years tripping in Wales whilst camping, the universe created a convergence with many cultural myths, diverse philosophies, art, sexuality, musics and dance freedom was something truly new, and it gripped young and old, rich and poor, queer and straight alike…Meet Acid House, where MDMA as opposed to LSD seemed the smarted safer choice. More of an empathogen than a straight psychedelic . We were swept into new states, of unimaginable truth, beauty and awakening. We danced for about 3 years before the cracks started to show, and the boundaries of what was a worthwhile experience to only a night of hedonism became very hazy. Once my guard dropped, so did the boundaries: speed, coke, heroin… I accepted them all. Gateways to infinity, I convinced myself.
It was a monumental error—one I spent decades trying to reverse.
Finally the illegal London and west country raves of the early ’90s fried my serotonin and dopamine receptors. Heroin crept in—first to calm brutal comedowns from bad pills, then to soothe the pains brought on by a corrupt fascist capitalist society had become a necessity, to deal with the brutal come downs, from iffy capsules and combos and 3 day raves, and the new universe, invoked in the pagan dawn under a massive bass bin of Techno music, had expelled me, for some unknown sin and I had fallen from a great height and I lost the magick, the ancestral connection which comes from proper use of the psychedelic sacrament. I had traded sacrament for synthetic mental orgasms, and ancient wisdom for hedonism.
Still, we walked on, Psycho-Nautical Travellers, on a soul journey, ready to be judged by nature and the self, the visible and the hidden. The “God Funken Spark” pulsed deep within all living beings, beneath the mask of flesh and identity. We were in a ruthless but sacred land—one that resisted capitalist logic and reminded us to cherish both the hard lessons and the creature comforts we take for granted. We were no longer in La Paz—we had crossed into the jungle’s beginning.
As Intrepid Psycho-Naughtical explorers, we were about to begin a soul journey where we would surely be tested judiciously by the natural and the universal, woven into the fabric of reality but also deep within the self where the original God Funken Spark lives, the ever emitting energetic pulses was visible, and the mantle of appearance was just the shroud covering every living being to give it some quality of Is-ness to the partaker. .

The universe unfolded like a living wave of conscious geometry—from the infinitesimal to the all-encompassing. It wasn’t only beautiful; it was necessary. My soul had been crying out for something it didn’t even know existed. Maybe this was it.
Or maybe it was all just Ancient Alien tech—some sublime long game tinkering with form and perception across aeons. Either way, I was in God's garden again. Questions ran through me like a feeding frenzy of fish: Who are we? Why do we hunger for altered states and knowledge? Where do we come from—and where are we going?
I’d been through rehab. I was 28, burned out, unmoored—not a clean, green, barefoot prophet, but a driven mad professor type, who'd sampled every psycho-pharmacological state he could reach. I was trying to build my own Unified Field Theory and find the Holy grail that lay within.
But the fails had become painfully clear. No job. No family. No ambition in the “real world.” I wasn’t trying to build a life. I was hunting the Grail within. I longed for that Buddhist sense of peace—where no escape is needed because right speech, right action, and right thought guide every step.
And yet… I still craved love, sex, victory, recognition, style. I didn’t want to disappear into Lucifer’s lair with a fistful of powders and “another girl to take the pain away.” I wanted to live—cleaner, kinder, more present in God’s creation.
The substances, when used well, were guiding me in that direction. They were showing us what we could become if we dropped the damage wrought by TV, by broken homes, by a culture that only demanded good workers and committed consumers.
My new friends had hoped for the healthy hippie archetype—reliable, heartful, aligned. And maybe I wanted to be that. But I wasn’t. My life was blighted by a never ending hole of need. I was desperate. I was lost in my own skin, gasping for air in a world that never fit. My daily life was survival through sensation—trying to jolt myself out of dread, poverty, misunderstanding.
Maybe what I sought wasn't quantifiable knowledge, but initiation into the deeper languages: music, poetry, dance, art. These were the true cyphers of the hidden universe. The sacred doesn’t speak in anyone language —it speaks in deep within but also prophetic external omens on a daily basis.
Eventually, the trip wound down. The Argentinian managed a flicker of a smile. The Shaman—a gentle, pastoral guide—knew his work was done. Another humbled gringo had remembered the ancient voice within.
We said our goodbyes. We returned to our respective homes.
I won’t pretend I was cured. I still danced with danger, dulling intolerable existential pains for years after. But I will say this: God lives in these sacraments. If we can use them wisely—honestly—then even the lost, even the bruised and even the bad who will not listen, can find transformation, and be reborn.

More than 20 years ago, on this glorious day, whilst staying in La Paz, Bolivia, we decided to go search and harvest some San Pedro cactus (Trichocereus pachanoi). My new friends took me to the edge of the city’s impoverished backsides, and after hiking a couple of hours through abandoned areas on the high-altitude fringe, in an empty lot with wild vegetation, we found a huge 13-pointed star-shaped San Pedro cactus—gargantuan, even by their standards. We grabbed a rope, used it as a saw, and relieved this giant of one of her limbs, and dragged it back to my place with a tarp.
It took us days to properly prepare. We worked on a patio in a comfort but the process was laborious.
Some days later, the Shaman, his Argentinian sidekick, and I chewed it up with water and set off exploring the hills. To our surprise, the Argentinian decided—last minute—to take Angel's Trumpet (Datura). We knew it wouldn’t be fun for him and added risk for us all, but each soul follows its own path, and we respected that. And so we were off, into nature and mystery—to chase the gnawing questions that haunt renegades like us.
 Why are we here? No—why are we? The ubiquitous thirst for knowledge, inciting from us, quests and risks, to find answers to the ultimate philosophical questions, why are we?

Everything in the hills felt ancient but I was like a child again. Every rock, leaf, vista, shimmered with runes, faces and souls, drawing us into communion with it. Nature, crafted by a divine poet-mathematician, an abundance of artistic structures, ongoing ancient sagas, and an unmistakable “Is-ness” to everything. Even the tracks on the mud road made by the occasional 4x4 were like grand unseen works of art and a feast for the senses. Life, death, spirit, matter, bringing us to rapture—all interplaying and dancing without hierarchy or importance. Everything mattered.

I knew my companions expected a progressive, wholesome counterculture psychedelic ambassador from the UK.
Unfortunately I had long since moved on from psychedelics as the only keys to self knowledge. I started with Cannabis, like many do, then mushrooms( liberty caps…if you know you know) and then finally, the one that people may not return from, LSD.

After a couple of short years tripping in Wales camping, the universe created a convergence, with many cultural myths, diverse philosophies, art, free sexuality, new musics and dancing for freedom. It was something truly new, and it gripped young and old, rich and poor, queer and straight alike…Meet Acid House, where MDMA as opposed to LSD seemed the smarted safer empathic choice. We were swept into new states, of unimaginable truth, beauty and awakening. We danced for about 3 years before the cracks started to show, and the boundaries of what were worthwhile holy experiences, to nights of drug fuelled sex and hedonism, until it all become unsustainable.
Once my guard dropped, so did the boundaries: speed, coke, heroin… I accepted them all. Gateways to infinity, and research chemicals I convinced myself.
It was a monumental error—one I spent decades trying to undo.

Finally the illegal London and west country raves of the early ’90s fried my serotonin and dopamine receptors. Heroin crept in—first to calm brutal comedowns from bad pills, then to soothe the pains brought on by a, corrupt fascist capitalist society,( get a job!) from sketchy people and toxic combos and 3 day raves, and the new universe, invoked under the pagan dawn in a massive bass bin of Techno music, had expelled me, for some unknown sin and I had fallen from a great height and I lost the magick, the ancestral connection which comes from proper use of the psychedelic sacrament. I had traded holy sacrament for synthetic mental orgasms, and ancient wisdom for hedonism.

Still, we walked on, as intrepid Psycho-Nautical ambassadors , on a soul journey, ready to be judged by nature and the self, the elements and the world soul all around us. The “God Funken Spark” pulsed deep within all living beings, beneath the mantle of matter and identity. We were in a ruthless but sacred land—one that resisted capitalist logic and reminded us to cherish both the hard lessons and the creature comforts we take for granted. We were no longer in La Paz—we had crossed into the jungle’s beginning. This was the kind of place, existing out on an edge, which reminds us to be grateful for those things which come to us, in this life to learn, shaping us into something more than clock punchers and material consumers, much much more, while also reminding us not to forget to the convenient creature comfort’s which make life pleasant, safe and tolerable.

The universe unfolded like a living wave of conscious geometry—from the infinitesimal to the all-encompassing. It wasn’t only beautiful; it was an initiation. My soul had been crying out for something it didn’t even know existed until now.
Or maybe it was all just Ancient Alien tech—some sublime Ultra beings terrarium, tinkering with form and perception across aeons. Either way, I was in God's garden again and it had all been worth it. Questions ran through me like a feeding frenzy of fish: Who are we? Why do we hunger for this suppressed knowledge? Where do we come from—and where are we going?

I’d been through rehab. I was 28, burned out, unmoored—not a clean, green, barefoot prophet, but a driven mad professor type, who'd sampled every psycho-pharmacological state he could reach. I was trying to build my own Unified Field Theory and find the Holy grail that lay within.
But the fails had become painfully clear. No job. No family. No ambition in the “real world.” I wasn’t trying to build a life. I was hunting the Grail within. I longed for that Buddhist sense of peace—where no escape is needed because right speech, right action, and right thought guide every step.
And yet… I still craved love, sex, victory, excitement, recognition, style. I didn’t want to disappear into Lucifer’s lair with a fistful of powders and “another girl to take the pain away.” I wanted to live—cleaner, kinder, more present in God’s creation.
The substances, when used well, were guiding me in that direction. They were showing us what we could become if we dropped the damage wrought by TV, by broken homes, by a culture that only demanded good workers and committed consumers, but demanded we never lift up the veil or be called felon.
My new friends had hoped for the healthy hippie archetype—reliable, heartful, aligned. And maybe I wanted to be that. But I wasn’t. My life was blighted by a never ending hole of need. I was desperate. I was lost in my own skin, gasping for air in a world that I never fit in. My daily life was survival through sensation—trying to jolt myself out of dread, poverty, misunderstanding.
Maybe what I sought wasn't quantifiable knowledge, but initiation into the deeper languages: music, poetry, dance, art, magick. These were the true cyphers of the hidden universe. The sacred doesn’t speak in words —it speaks through music and dance and truth.
Eventually, the trip wound down. The Argentinian managed a flicker of a smile. The Shaman—a gentle, pastoral guide—knew his work was done. Another humbled gringo had remembered the ancient voice within.
We said our goodbyes. We returned to our respective homes.
I won’t pretend I was cured. I still danced with danger, dulling intolerable existential pains for years after. But I will say this: God lives in these sacraments. If we can use them wisely—honestly—then even the lost, even the bruised and even the bad who will not listen, can find transformation, and be reborn.

new 23 2024-08-15 at 22.20.59-fotor-2024081522373.png

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The Chronicles of

Zelatrixiana

The 7 Substances

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The 7 Substances

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