Originally published in 2002 ‘Hallucinogens: A reader’ is a collection of psychedelic texts edited by Charles Grob, M.D. and includes contributions from such notables as Ralph Metzner and Terence McKenna. It covers a wide range of topics like society, shamanism and research and manages to avoid the pitfalls of being too topically restrictive, or too linguistically complex.
In his introduction Charles S. Grob takes a look at two threads that helped create the history of what we call the psychedelic movement. These two elements are characterized by their earliest exponents: Aldous Huxley and Timothy Leary. They amount to a different perspective on how those with the knowledge of psychedelics should proceed in attempting to ingratiate the experience into society as a legitimated, functioning and positive phenomena.
“These extraordinary plants and synthetic substances, which so delighted his [Leary’s] senses and fascinated his intellect, would be repelled by a mainstream culture that saw in them the manifestation of a perfidious threat to social stability” and “Leary himself became the embodiment of these fears.” Socially separated by law, with a prison sentence, Leary was the reflection of the mirror in the window, which also saw psychedelics outlawed in the mid-Sixties. The new era of psychedelic research, which began in the 1990s and still continues today is the underlying premise of this reader – to re-examine psychedelics and society.
One of Terence McKenna’s more famous monologues ‘Psychedelic Society’ has been transcribed. The integral element of this lecture is that the psychedelic experience is primarily a confrontation with the unknown; that it is an experiential grounding for the unknown. “When I think of psychedelic society that notion implies creating a society which lives in the light of the Mystery of Being.” It would “abandon belief systems for direct experience.”
Ethically and politically, McKenna espouses an intellectual anarchy that would be pragmatically applied to individual occasions; without recourse to a given strata. As such, his argument follows, psychedelics or “deconditioning agents” can be useful and reliable tools for the psychedelic society. This approach does beg the criticism, however, are they not also reconditioning agents at the same time? The implication of this would be a breakdown into a perpetual state of societal flux; society as it is currently conceived would cease to exist. If, indeed, it ever has.
In amongst the widely known figureheads of the psychedelic movement included in this reader, like Albert Hoffman, Ralph Metzner and McKenna, there are several lesser known figures whose contributions are of real note.
Thomas Riedlinger does a wonderful exposition of two psychedelic novels, which are rarely classed as such: Jean-Paul Sartre’s ‘Nausea’ (1938,) with its mescaline hell, reflecting the authors own experiences and ‘Exploring Inner Space’ (1961) by “Jane Dunlap”, a pseudonym for the famous nutritionist Adelle Davis. Davis underwent a quest for spiritual enlightenment using LSD. Riedlinger’s exposition of the novels are both informative and insightful.
Roger Walsh does a very interesting examination of what he describes as the similarities and differences between “researchers” and “contemplatives”. That is those people who believe in a material basis for reality (researchers) and those who claim that consciousness is its basis (contemplatives,) which is, philosophically speaking, an idealist position. A debate that goes back to at least Plato and Aristotle in Western philosophy. Walsh then descends into an illuminating discourse analysis between chemical mysticism and natural mysticism.
‘The Psychedelic Vision’ text is a transcription of a conversation between Andrew Weil, Charles Grob, Laura Huxley and Dennis McKenna, in which the narrative reads like a psy-biography, of sorts, of Weil. He narrates, through questioning, how the “psychedelic vision” has had an effect on the decisions and ways of his life: “By doing something in here, everything out there changes and I think that has enormous relevance for medicine.” The very stuff of a psychedelic transformation of society.
Scientific method, case studies and religious implications in science are all explored by writers like Rick Strassman, Gary Fisher and Jeremy Narby. As a reader ‘Hallucinogens’ truly fulfils its potential. Not only by reiterating knowledge in new contexts but by showing the variety and depth to the boundaries that the psychedelic movement has pushed out into in the last fifty years. A collection of texts, such as this, that carefully outlines the flight of psychedelic research is a valuable tool.
Originally published in 2004 ‘Sacred Mushroom of Visions: Teonanácatl’ is a relatively comprehensive sourcebook on the psilocybin mushroom. The book is edited by Ralph Metzner, who’s history with the psychedelic movement dates back to the Harvard Psilocybin Project. It contains contributions from a wide range of individuals and contains elements of science, theory, history and experiential accounts of the psilocybin experience.
The name Teonanácatl comes from the Nahuatl language of the Aztec people; usually translated as “God’s flesh”, R. Gordon Wasson, the banker who brought the ritual use of psilocybin to the notice of the West, believed it more correctly translated as “wondrous mushroom.” This sets the thrust of the book, which largely takes the view of an entheogenic discourse about the psychedelic.
However, this isn’t to say that the book reads like a religious dialogue. It is split into two parts. Firstly, a collection of essays and extracts from a number of experts from across the field of study. These include words from Metzner himself, Paul Stamets, Rick Doblin and Timothy Leary. They cover such diverse topics as the cultural and psychotherapeutic history of psilocybin, the theories of Terence McKenna (like the Stoned Ape theory,) worldwide distribution, biochemistry and neuropharmacology. From scientific fact through to the speculative and possible.
All these elements make up the motions of the psychedelic movement, especially in regard to psilocybin mushrooms, although it is certainly applicable across the whole psychedelic class. Metzner describes the psychedelic movement as “a loose nonorganised association of shamanistic consciousness explorers, pagan hippie revellers, techno-freaks, and advocates for global cultural evolution, who share a passionate interest in natural and synthetic mind-expanding technologies.” The diversity of fields means that one can find evidence for the movement in a wide variety of disciplines and gain a real insight into how it has spread.
A chapter entitled “The initiation of the ‘High Priest’” is taken from Timothy Leary’s autobiography, entitled, ‘High Priest’. It describes the moment in which the Harvard professor first took magic mushrooms and began his now infamous journey. His use of poetry, capitals, italics and so forth, are the real mark of his writing. The loose style, which reflects the changing nature of the psychedelic experience, beautifully illustrates the great impact Leary felt. Interesting, Rick Doblin also discusses his follow-up studies to the Harvard Psilocybin Project’s research from the early Sixties; this gives the book a wonderful cyclical feel that binds the recent history together.
The second half of the book is made up of first-hand accounts of the psilocybin experience. They are nearly all based in a ritualistic, entheogenic setting and make use of the shamanic understanding throughout. The legacy of Carlos Castaneda, his language and ideas, are constantly catapulted into your mind without even the mention of his name. Lizards, desert settings, animorphing and separate realities are essential elements in the tales. However, each narrative has a very personal aspect that perfectly individuates the psychedelic experience.
Abraham L. described his experiences in a group ritual situation, in which his own experience was perceived as impinging on that of the others: “I was experiencing true madness, yet I was comfortable with it. I realized I was lying in a separate room from the group because of my madness, in the same way people are placed in asylums so their madness won’t bother other people. I felt a connection with inmates in psychiatric wards working through similar processes.”
Interestingly, Abraham L. goes onto to talk about working with people who were fostering conversation between Arabs and Jews several years later. The idea of division is laced into the psychedelic experience on many levels and the best writing on the topic tends to lend great credence to this as a literary device. From social divisions, which have a Foucauldian ring, to the great paradox of Self and Other, they are the great predicaments of consciousness.
One gets the impression when finishing the ‘Sacred Mushroom of Visions’ that the many dimensions of psilocybin offer humanity a truly wonderful gift; for personal experience, for scientific research and as a light through which the environmental discourse of the modern age can be shone. If you have an interest, indeed a belief, in entheogenic, empathogenic (as many of the narratives elude to,) shamanism or simply mycology, then this book is a must for your shelf.
Originally published in 1860 ‘The Seven Sisters of Sleep’ is a classic of Western drug literature. In over a hundred years, with no reprints until the end of the 20th century, the transformation in the importance of Mordecai Cooke’s book is exceptional. Titled in its first edition with a ‘popular history of the seven prevailing narcotics of the world’ it now carries the tagline ‘the celebrated drug classic’. And with good cause.
The book begins with a most poetic of openings. A short story, a fable possibly, which gives its premise over as the title of the book. Accordingly, Sleep had seven sisters who were jealous of her gift, which she waved over the creatures of earth “from pole to pole, and from ocean to ocean, she swayed her sceptre.” They tried to steal the sway but they bred discord. So Sleep said: “My minister of dreams shall aid you by his skill, and visions more gorgeous, and illusions more splendid, than ever visited a mortal beneath my sway.” And the seven sisters became entwined in their own splendour with the cultures of earth.
Who are these seven sisters for whom sleep counts amongst her family? Namely, tobacco, opium, cannabis, betel nut, coca, datura, and fly agaric. For Cooke, there is a plane of consciousness through which all these “narcotics” play a role. Just as sleep takes one away from a consensual reality, so too do her sisters and consciousness becomes a wave of chemical affection.
The plane of consciousness plays a fundamental role in Cooke’s racial outlook, which is pleasantly free of the extreme racism of the times and there is an implicit understanding that humanity is connected through its love of consciousness affection.
“To talk of the degraded Chinese as barbarians, indulging in an awful extent in opium, and the ignorant Hindoo and Arab, as in madness revelling in debauches of hemp confections, is an evidence of the workings of the same narrow-minded prejudices under which some who abstain from alcoholic stimulants rail and rave.”
The book is constructed through a whirlwind examination of cultural drug habits, tribal differences and geographical placements; entwined with economic and usage statistics. For all the different cultures, for all their different styles and habits; the connection of consumption is underlined throughout. Quotes are taken from explorers, scientists of various disciplines and first-hand accounts and the text slips easily between disciplines.
Yet, for all the classification elements of the book – very much in vogue for a time of burgeoning science – there are very literary aspects within the text as well. For example, the following description of an individual addled by long-term opium addiction, which uses numerous techniques to paint a picture with words:
“His body was bent forwards and greatly emaciated; his face was shrunken, wan, and haggard; his long skinny arm, wasted fingers, and sharp pointed nails resembled more the claw of some rapacious bird, than the hand of a lord of the creation; his head was nodding and tremulous; his skin wrinkled and yellow; and his teeth were a few decayed, pointed, and black stained fangs.”
It’s amazing how the descriptions of drug experience withstand the test of time; the only change lays within the substance itself. What was a description of hashish experience might well be laughed at now as being far to extreme for what is now considered a mild drug; but which might be perfect for classic psychedelics: “A man who believed himself entirely changed into brittle glass, and in constant fear of being cracked or broken, or having a finger or toe knocked off.” Either, as is popularly conceived, our language is limited in describing drug experience, or consciousness has since expanded and requires increasingly transporting substances to elicit the same response. Certainly a point of discourse and conjecture.
Mordecai Cooke (1825-1915) himself demonstrates a wide knowledge of different fields like history, science and literature. These attributes lend themselves to creating a well-rounded text, not too cumbersome and narrow to read and the speed of the text is both entertaining and grabbing. Although he brushed aside this text in his later career, as an eminent naturalist, mycologist and teacher, it retains the charm of an author dedicated to his work.
His middle-class Victorian perspective, although free of racism and with an injection of humour, still houses a small tendency to be morally objective. This is not, however, done with snobbery but with a slight medical pity.
According to Cooke, after using ‘narcotic hemp’ a psychosis can occur, which he describes with a literary force that still resonates today: “The mind then believes that it sees visions, and beholds beings with whom it can converse. The phenomena gradually develops themselves, until illusions take the place of realities, and hold firm possession of the mind, which would seem on all other points to be healthy and vigorous, but on this point, insane.”
‘The Seven Sisters of Sleep’ is as its tagline suggests, a ‘drug classic’. No-one with an interest in drug-related literature should be without a copy. Though, statistically speaking, it may not be a highly reliable source, it offers much, much more. As a cultural analysis, breathing life into the varied consumption of drugs across the globe, from a time of burgeoning understanding, it is reminder of what is perennial in humanity. Beautifully written, entertaining, educational and revealing. Outstanding book.
Originally published in 1966, ‘Psychedelic Prayers after the Tao Te Ching’ by Timothy Leary is a work of textual interpretation, an exercise in creativity and an attempt to illuminate and guide the psychedelic experience through the lens of an ancient text. The cover drawing, a psychedelic, red horse motif, is illustrated by Michael Bowen.
Having already published ‘The Psychedelic Experience: A manual based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead’, as an LSD guide book, Timothy Leary decided to look further East for his next inspiration. A fresh framework for exploring the “awareness-of-energy” and the “patterns of neurological signals which are usually censored from mental life.”
The Tao Te Ching is an ancient Chinese text, containing 81 verses. It is thought to date from about the 6th century B.C.E, and tradition has it that it was written by Lao Tse, which means “old master”, although the authenticity of authorship and actual dates are still hotly debated.
The style of the text is poetic and philosophical (in the broadest sense) and has been used as an inspiration for religions, artisans and in other systems of thought. There are numerous translations of the title, however its two root words are usually translated as “way” and “virtue”. It first became popularized in the West during the 19th century.
Leary believed that the text must be reinterpreted for every new situation and this, for Leary, was especially true for the psychedelic experience. He took nine English translations of the text, read them all thoroughly and allowed the meaning to “slowly bubble up.” In his forward he wrote:
“These translations from English to psychedelese were made while sitting under a bamboo tree on a grassy slope of the Kumaon Hills overlooking the snow peaks of the Himilayas.” In geography and text, he is overcoding the psychedelic space and reaching beyond Western culture for the substance but inevitably there is a merging of territories.
For Leary, ‘Tao’ meant energy. His reading of the text, and its translation, tie into his 8-circuit (at the time 7-circuit) model of consciousness; specifically the cellular and molecular tiers, which, in his framework, LSD pertains to. It embeds the idea of consciousness being a Heraclitean flux, constantly in flow and in a permanent state of becoming.
“Psychedelic poetry, like all psychedelic art, is crucially concerned with flow. Each psychedelic poem is carefully tailored for a certain time in the sequence of the session. Simplicity and diamond purity are important. Intellectual flourishes and verbal pyrotechnics are painfully obvious to the ‘turned on’ nervous system.”
The book is structured into six parts; for preparation, the invoking of pure energy flow and different consciousness levels and the final section, which is the “Re-imprinting prayers”. The prayers, or poems, or hymns (as they are variously referred to) are a mixture of language; some poetic, some mystical and also some nods toward science. The use of innovative spacing and alignments create a rhythmic feel throughout and which lends itself very well to the spoken word.
As a physical object, the book is a fascinating work in itself. The textured cover and the thick pages make it a delight to hold in your hands. The cover illustrations are beautiful, delicate and absorbing. The very ‘otherness’ of the psychedelic experience is invoked in the making of the prayer book. It contains the curiosity and the sensual multitude.
There is a tradition of reinterpreting ancient texts, in the light of the psychedelic experience and it constitutes a major research area in psychedelic literature. ‘Psychedelic Prayers’ is one of the finest examples of this and still makes for a wonderful read in itself; as a curiosity, as a work of poetry and as an insight into the growth patterns of the psychedelic movement. Well worth a read if you can find a copy.
Originally published in 2000 ‘Tripping: An anthology of true-life psychedelic adventures’ is a selection of personal accounts, collected and edited by Charles Hayes, of the psychedelic experience. It also includes an extensive interview with Terence McKenna, visionary art from Alex Grey and a extended bibliography and resource list. Tripping is, without doubt, one of the finest selections of tales to be born of the psychedelic movement.
As much as I’d like to call this collection a ‘very literary undertaking’ I should first clarify how Charles Hayes himself, first and foremost, viewed the project of Tripping: “My intent in assembling these unusual, often unsettling tales is to create a work not so much of literature but one of document.” In documenting anything, one has to consider all the various understandings, the breadth of the field and the nature of your object; all of which Charles achieves.
In the first place, there are many different triggers for the psychedelic experience that he examines. From LSD, DMT and Nutmeg to PCP, Ketamine, psilocybin mushrooms and many others; the keys to the world of “Heaven and Hell” are various. Secondly, participants were gathered from different walks like word-of-mouth, websites like MAPS, classified ads and through the response of several high-profile figures.
Mark: “The drug had taken away what I’d been taking for granted and then slowly handed it back to me. The way back was illuminating, a revelation of everything that comprised the quotidian yet essential functions of living”
Throughout much of the process of interviewing, recording, editing and writing, Charles Hayes lived in Bangkok, Thailand. He circled the world twice tracking down those people who would be kind enough to share some of their most profound psychedelic experiences with both him and the world. He describes visiting the infamous Christiania, in Denmark, Britain’s rave scene and beyond.
However, one of Charles’ regrets, in the writing of Tripping, was that he was unable to record experiences from every culture in the world. The participants are made up largely from Western societies; therefore with similar social histories. Men outnumber woman, 3 to 1 and reasons for consuming these various substances range from the religious and ritualistic to the hedonistic. This in itself, however, assures a huge diversity of narratives.
Such individuals as Bruce Eisner, Paul Devereux and Charles Hayes himself, contribute to the narrative, alongside many other trippers. For all the original intentions, Tripping stills comes across with a very literary edge; no more so than in Charles’ own narrative, which contains many literary devices: “There was a faint physical pain in my brain as I plunged through a void in my mind. I felt like a kite in the sky, helpless before the whims of the wind, with no power of my own to get down to terra firma.”
Charles Hayes
My favourite narrative is ‘Sarah’s’: “At the height of my first acid trip, back in 1975, I was visited by a bizarre spectre in the guise of a strange neighbour.” The lady had appeared at the doorway needing her dress done up. Sarah, who was speaking a combination of English and Hebrew, did it up and the lady left. Then Sarah realized: “She was it, the culmination of all events, the meaning and purpose of everything that occurred before.” She then wrote down the story of the world; from “10 000 B.C.E The Iron Age” though “1789 Bastille liberated” till finally “September 13th, 1975 Visitation of a Lady.” A beautifully comic and revelatory tale that oozes the great tide of cause-and-effect.
Malcolm: “At times it seemed to me that the entire experience happened twice – once to me, and again in a movie that I watched. I viewed from a distance as my tortured self was strapped down and carried out the house.”
There is an interplay that is extant in nearly all the narratives included in the anthology. An interplay of three meta-influences; set, setting and Self. ‘Set and setting’; the psychological and historical traits of the individual’s psyche playing an intricate part, alongside the geographical and social spaces in which they find themselves during the psychedelic experience. More often than not, the Self is at the mercy of these two categories.
The ‘Self’ appeared invariably in two instances within the texts. Firstly, in the instant in which the various realizations within the trips took place, when the individual overcame an obstacle; realized themselves. Secondly, for the more experienced trippers who seemed to have an ability to actively engage the experience, to journey through it less by an emotional rollercoaster, but more with, though not exclusively, an objective eye. Though it is the interplay of all three – set, setting and Self – that conjures the magic in the narratives.
Along with some wonderful artwork by Alex Grey, there is also an edited transcription of an extremely good interview , which took place between Charles and Terence McKenna, on the 17th -18th January 1998. It’s certainly one of the most illuminating conversations I’ve read and heard of Terence, especially in regard to the conciseness of his ideas and it’s certainly a wonderful ending to the anthology.
‘Tripping’ is an excellent collection of stories, well formulated, riveting and insightful. I can only conclude this review by finishing off the quote I began with: “By rendering into print the astonishing phenomena of psychedelic drugs—as well as their impact on the human psyche—they can be rescued from the stream of ephemera, dried off in the prosaic light of reading lamps, and then ruminated over by a larger population of fellow and vicarious travellers.”
