Is the unearned necessarily the undeserved? If so, we should penalize children who do not earn their daily bread. We should also refuse to heal the sick, since illness can be construed as a karmic comeuppance. But are we not all children of a benevolent Creator? And are we not all to some extent sick, since we share or planet's malaise? Can we not just feed and heal our fellow men as best we can, leaving it up to karmic law to determine the use each recipient will make of the opportunities given. If we think of ketamine as food and medicine for the soul then the same rules should apply.
To clarify these issues it is also necessary to ask, "Can ketamine take a person as high as the traditional forms of samadhi? Since samadhi is a multi-splendored "jewel within the lotus" of cosmic consciousness this question is hard to answer. Also, it must be admitted that not everyone derives maximum benefit from the ketamine experience. Some just feel vaguely anesthesized or disconcertingly "whacked out." Our own feeling is that even at best the drug cannot replicate the more exalted states of being which require an adequately trained sensory apparatus through which to manifest. There are many kinds of "highs," and these may not even be all in the same continuum. The point is, however, that unassisted hardly one person in a million can habitually attain the universal bliss that awaits at the top of the seven-staged ladder of yoga. In the meanwhile, those less favored can at least be enabled to attain levels which otherwise would have remained far beyond their grasp and thereby to see that there are still loftier elevations to be scaled when the time is right.
Speaking personally, I must admit that my ketamine trips have taken me farther than years of yogic disciplines. At the same time, the physical and mental conditioning previously undergone undoubtedly did maximize the benefits of the drug. This seemed like my reward for having tried so hard with so few visible results. Certainly ketamine's jet-propelled mode of transport has no more weakened my resolve to walk the path of yoga than have my many airplane trips spoiled my love of hiking. Rather, the heights revealed have strengthened my determination to progress to the point where it will be possible to fly without artificial wings.
It has also become all the more evident that the goal of our evolutionary progress is not to escape from this world to the next. With ketamine I can do that already, but that other world also has its limitations. Rather, the soul's purpose is to bring our many worlds together into an effectively functioning synthesis.
People who wish to retreat into themselves, whether through meditation or drugs, are often accused of escapism. But we find that escapism comes not from diving too deep into the living wellsprings of our beings, but rather from not going deep enough. What could be more superficial that most people's means of escape-booze, nightclubs, spectator sports, soap operas and the like. Almost invariably those who have dug down to the depths of the psyche have found therein the resources to rise above sorrows, withstand pain and cope with the picayune perplexities of the daily round.
From a pragmatic viewpoint, the main problem with mystical experiences is that they take so long to achieve by normal means. By the time we find out what life is about it is too late to live it. Now, however, owing to the psychedelic movement launched in the 1960's we have a generation of people who in their most productive years are already seasoned travelers in the inner dimensions of consciousness. It hasn't been necessary for them to pass through decades of prayer and isolation in order to look within themselves. (Perhaps some of them have already done this in other incarnations?) Many have had their basic education in mysticism along with reading, writing and arithmetic and can now draw upon their experiences with altered states of consciousness while engaged in the business of carrying on their work in the world. Like mountain climbers who have started their ascent from a half-way house rather than from a base camp they have that much more chance of reaching the top.
So it seemed logical that many of the children of the sixties who had already set out upon the path to higher consciousness would be receptive to what we had learned. It was with them in mind that Howard and I decided to call our work with ketamine "samadhi therapy" and to pursue it not only for ourselves but for the sake of all who might benefit from it. We believe that not only may this substance be helpful to individuals, it can also be a medicine for our age, combatting the sick superstition of materialism with which our society is ridden. At this point there seems every reason to believe that the judicious use of ketamine can help people to live better, to die better and to consolidate the contact with the immortal essence of themselves that transcends all earthly births and deaths.
In a way it saddens us to make these statements because we know there are many spiritual seekers to whom such a stand will seem tantamount to blasphemy.
"I know what you are doing and I don't approve!" an erstwhile friend declared, shaking her finger formidably in Howard's face. Being the eternal "nice guy" he was taken aback, especially since she actually had not the slightest conception of what we were up to, or why.
For my own part, I fought these battles when I began teaching Hatha Yoga and astrology, and to a much greater extent while promoting the technique of hypersentience. To date, virtually all the opposition encountered has come not from lay people or from the medical profession but from oldline occultists. At the grassroots people have been remarkably openminded, possibly because they did not feel qualified to criticize. Too often it has been our colleagues who have felt threatened.
Well, we have been outlaws before, and have learned to wait for our detractors to awaken to the truth of what we are trying to accomplish. Surprisingly often they have eventually come around. All the same, it is sad when one's opponents are those who should be in the same camp.
Probably the most virulent criticism of our samadhi therapy will come from those who are playing the "liberation game." Imagine, if you will, a child who has been throwing dice and moving a colored marker back and forth over a board marked out with a maze of rectangular spaces. From house to office and from car to coffin he moves from one boxed-in enclosure to the next along a predetermined track. For hours he has been engaged in this labyrinthine competition with the idea in mind that at the end his marker will be deposited in a square at the center labeled "goal." Then along comes an officiously helpful person who says, "See, little one, I can save you all this time and trouble." Scooping up the markers the intruder preemptorily dumps them in the center. Is it any wonder, then, that the child flies into a rage? Unless the game has been worth the playing throughout-like playing a beloved musical score-the child would feel that all his efforts had been in vain.
In this respect, however, it is questionable whether one should practice meditation for the purpose of achieving liberation (or is it escape?) from the toils of earth. Is it not possible that the greater goal of meditation is to become a more self-fulfilled human being and a more compassionate server of mankind? My impression, drawn from years of promoting reincarnation therapy, is that the effort to be free from the mundane world often backfires. In one town, for example, I met an enormously fat twenty-year old American girl who had absolutely no concern in life except for sitting at the feet of her Hindu guru and meditating five hours daily. In her former existence she had been an East Indian ascetic who had despised the wiles of women and the cravings of flesh. Hence, this spirit was now lodged in the body of an exceedingly fleshy woman. There had been no escape whatsoever, but rather a demand for total confrontation, a demand which she still refused to recognize.