A similar issue arises in the cases of those who tell me they have "transcended" their horoscopes. An astrological chart is an assignment sheet, not a liability to be overcome or set aside. The High Self has voluntarily taken on the task of working with this particular energy pattern in order to utilize the resources given. Like it or not we are in this school for souls and have certain lessons to master before graduating into the larger life of the cosmos.
A curious sidelight on this issue is cast by a study of the Rig-Veda which is the earliest religious document of India and a seminal influence on Hindu philosophy. This scripture is a compendium of 1028 hymns dating back to the second millenium B.C. and possibly much older than that. Of these verses 120 are devoted entirely to the glorification of a plant called soma. According to the extensive research of Robert Gordon Wasson soma was a mushroom possessing psychedelic properties. His now widely accepted thesis is presented in a scholarly work entitled Soma, Divine Mushroom of Immortality, (Harcourt, Brace Jovanovich, Inc., 1967). In any event, we know for certain that East Indian mystics down the ages have made extensive use of mind-expanding substances. To a far greater extent than is commonly realized, the shamans, sorcerers and magi of other eras and areas have also been "opened up" by psychedelic potions in keeping with ancient and honorable traditions.
To me, it came as a revelation to realize that the whole concept of samadhi probably arose in the first place out of the kind of experimentations in which Howard and I were now engaged. We were merely rounding a higher turn of a well traveled spiral, and were in exceedingly good company.
Despite this incontrovertible historical evidence there is no doubt but that professional religionists will resent the assertion that fifty milligrams of colorless liquid can produce a result that hitherto has been attained only as the end product of a life of austerity and sacrifice, and usually not even then. Orthodox psychotherapists of various hues may also find their monopolies threatened. Even if ketamine can be proven to be entirely safe, these and other critics are bound to complain that it is "unnatural."
Here again, we are faced with the question of what may or may not be natural-which is to say, what does nature intend for us to be and become. When we stop to analyze the issue it appears that the yogi in his cave, the monk in his cell and the nun in her convent are using methods hardly less artificial to augment the quality of their consciousness. Fasting, sleeplessness, self-flagellation, isolation, sensory deprivation, physical and mental stresses and breathing exercises which increase the carbon dioxide in the blood merely resort to other means to alter body chemistry. In virtually every respect these ascetic practices are both more extreme and more dangerous than ketamine therapy.
It should also be pointed out that such attitude adjusters as alcohol, cigarets, and coffee are not truly "natural" nor are most of the aids in the average medicine cabinet including pep pills, tranquilizers, and the like. Then there are the foods that have been tampered with by man such as sugar and bleached white flour. No matter what we do or don't do, we are obliged to modify the dictates of nature. For some reason, however, many people consider chemical uplifts for the sake of sensory enjoyment to be permissible, while denying them to those who seek supersensible bliss. Much of this controversy has nothing to do with what may or may not be natural, but rather stems from what the author Alan Watts calls "the taboo against knowing who you are." In any event, once Howard and I adopted the name of "Samadhi Therapy" it quickly began to sound right and natural. It seemed to both of us that the simple fact of joyousness must be inherently therapeutic. To forget one's problems and take flight into the empyrean of inner space can give an entirely new perspective which remains even after coming back down to earth. Obviously there were many other benefits that might accrue to mortal beings privileged to partake of ketamine's "nectar of the gods" but these long term results would have to unfold in due time.
The use of the word therapy implies the existence of problems to be solved. Certainly no one can deny that the complement of joy is pain and that a person cannot seek the light without also encountering shadows. To date there had been no bad trips, but the issue of the nature and meaning of suffering did have a tendency to arise. After all, we were dealing with an anesthetic developed to counteract pain. About this time a friend who had no idea we were involved in psychedelic research sent us the following poem by Geoffrey Grigson taken from the October 30, 1970 issue of the British magazine New Statesman.
While we do not believe in the Devil we were prepared to admit the spiritual axiom that "perfection brings imperfection to the surface." Even in our newfound happiness the inevitable problems to which all flesh is heir could not be overlooked. Family, financial, and psychological pressures still lurked behind the scenes. Hence it will be seen in the following transcripts that we were already using our own brand of samadhi therapy to deal with some of the residual frustrations in our personal lives.
Session 7
Marcia. I'm sitting erect. Now I'm well under. Looking at my picture of Egypt. The chirping of the crickets is very loud. They're chirping all over the place. I'm not sure whether I can remain in a meditative posture or not.
Howard. I don't feel anything yet.
Marcia. I feel wonderful.
Howard. It's only been two minutes. I'm a little bit frightened.
Marcia. Yes. It's a truth serum.
Howard. I'm getting a little visual alternation. The only thing I don't like…the part I don't like at all is that waxy feeling. I just hate that. It's so artificial. I have that right this minute.
Marcia. Yes. It's just like wax. Exactly.
Howard. I hate that. It's so artificial.
Marcia. What's happening to me now is…
Howard. You're not dizzy now are you?
Marcia. Yes I am dizzy. I'm very dizzy. The wings on this picture that I'm looking at are in perfect synchrony with the sound that I'm hearing. Each feather is resonating to the sound of the motor. It's always like a very smooth motor. It's like a beautifully made automobile reving up. Dadadadadada. What I'm getting now is the perfect synchrony between the motor and what I'm seeing. Those feathers on the wings…Egypt…and I'm also feeling a great deal…feeling how much I love Egypt. I thought this was going to be silly, just to sit and look at the picture of Egypt-two birdlike beings looking at each other. But all at once it seems wonderful-transcendental. It's you and it's me, it's Howard and it's Marcia. I know that when this is typed out on a piece of paper its going to be just black and white. But in my world, my bright world where I am right this moment, it's gold…pure shining gold.