Increasingly my attention was being brought to bear upon the issue of how the bright world, which one might call the "anima mundi" or soul of all things, can be induced to interfuse the plasticized realm of non-porous objects. How are we to tincture everday awareness with the deeper dye of the beyond that lies within? How is the realm where everything interpenetrates to be reconciled with the billiard ball realm of supposedly discreet atomic particles and isolated stars?
Going back to my earlier preoccupation with the angels of the angles, I saw this process as one involving the coversion of the spherical vortex of the cosmatrix into the cubes of our building block universe through the tetrahedral (sixty-degree-angled) formative energies of the realm of archetypes. Of course the ninety-degree world is in one sense as illusory as the web of longitudes and latitudes which cartographers have inscribed on the surface of the globe, but at the same time it is necessary to our functioning. One can argue endlessly as to whether directions are "real" or "unreal" but we know that for practical purposes they exist.
To square the circle is a complex affair with which the metaphysicians of ancient times were compulsively preoccupied. Somehow the secret lies in elevating the square base of the material world into the triangle-faced pyramid of a higher-dimensional realm; hence the great pyramid of Egypt exemplifies the measurement for the irrational number pi. This is not the place to detail my many ruminations on this subject, but the idea was sufficiently compelling for me to take up a compass and ruler and lay out an idealized plan for Ananta Ashram/North with six hexagonal buildings, each one serving a different function, surrounding a central patio. The overall design was constructed in such a way that the six buildings could be inscribed in a circle with a seventh empty space of equal size in the middle. It seemed an appropriate concept, especially in view of the fact that the chemical formula for ketamine is two hexagons connected by a single band.
February's most interesting development was the sharing of our bright world with a number of old and new comrades. As we began to work with individuals and launched our Friday night "group samadhi" sessions my private journeys also began to take more account of other beings. It began with a visit from a successful writer whom we will call Bill. Bill, Howard and I decided to take a fifty-milligram three-way samadhi trip one evening in our livingroom.
Following the familiar lift-off into the subtler dimensions of perception the presence of other guiding intelligences began to tug at the corners of my attention. For years I had been amassing evidence that mankind is not alone in the cosmos and had long since become convinced that not only are we monitored by an executive "hierarchy" specifically connected with this planet, we are also subject to the scrutiny of visitors from elsewhere. Never before, however, had I so strongly sensed the quality of these benign beings, who, for the sake of discussion, can be labeled "space brothers."
The unexpected conclusion of this tuning in on the vibratory frequencies of the space brothers was the recognition that they were us! Or at least we were being used as instruments of their reconnoitering. Recalling a metaphor first suggested by my friend Isha Chandi, I saw our group floating down to earth like parachutists ejected from a speeding plane. Now, having landed in different spots we were stumbling about through the underbush of an alien terrain looking for one another in order to coordinate our efforts and carry out the assigned mission. Being with Bill now was like welcoming another member of the band. If only enough of us could reassemble we would be invincible, but first we had to close ranks. It was almost as though we were engaged in a military maneuver. Severe opposition did exist but could be met if we could stand together.
But why, if we belonged to this special task force, hadn't we known it? What had happened to the mental radios that might have kept us in touch with the commanders of our airborne squadron and with home base? For years, my own lack of the psychic gifts, dimly recollected from other lifetimes, had been a cross to bear. I wasn't even a good subject for regression and my intuition, especially about other people, often failed. Even meditation and breathing exercises seemed like trying to leaven lead.
Now, however, I began to grasp why the biomechanism assigned as my physical vehicle had been constructed of such peculiarly compact material which, through the years, had been systematically toughened. Evidently it was my place to go down to the very bowels of matter in order to anchor certain light energies in places where, under ordinary circumstances, it would be difficult for these rays to penetrate. For an anchor it is quite appropriate to be made out of lead. Even astrologically my horoscope is dominated by the leaden planet Saturn which, as a bucket handle opposing all the other planets in the natal chart, resembles an anchor holding them down.
What the space brothers now seemed to be showing me was that in the mandala of the universe the highest is reflected in the lowest like gold reduced to lead or diamonds to coal. It is a worthy, albeit difficult, feat to link extreme positions. Perhaps at some prior stage I had attained an elevated spiritual altitude; hence it was now possible to descend lower, even to the point of undergoing a lot of gross experiences. What seemed to be needed at this point were people who, like cells in the body of humanity, could burrow down and perform anatomical tasks of which the conscious mind has slight cognizance, and simultaneously remain responsive to the developmental plan for the organism as a whole. An astrologer might say that the conjunction of my ruling planet, the Moon, with Pluto which signifies penetration to the depths illustrates this hypothesis.
It also came to me that this physical denseness was connected with the nervous incoordination which had plagued me through my school days and which still shows in my dyslextic handwriting. Could this long-term awkwardness, which yoga has to some extent alleviated, have been a function of having so much more to bring together? The irony of being a writer who can hardly control a pen seems little different from that of being a spirit too far removed from the body with which it is compelled to work. Could this also be why my vision suffers from the defect of having one near-sighted and one far-sighted eye? Again, thinking of my horoscope this state of affairs seemed to be shown by Saturn's opposition to Mercury, planet of communications.
All this may sound like an immodest rationalization for a lack of psychic sensitivity. Nevertheless, these were the thoughts seeded in my mind during that particular group session. In addition, it was impressed upon me that the time had come to re-etherealize this vehicle of all-too-solid flesh. Perhaps that was why I had been offered the opportunity to receive and pass on the gift of ketamine. Certainly the mission would require a well-armored exterior to ward off the barbs of a host of critics. But if I could become more clairvoyant by this means, so too could similarly earthbound souls. Yes, the body was feeling more than ever like lead, but alchemically lead is a substance that can be transmuted into gold.
Pondering these insights in the days that followed I was reminded that most mediumistic persons are enabled to link inner and outer worlds because of the gauzy quality of their subtle "etheric" bodies. Owing to this permeability messages can be transmitted, but all too often a lack of fiber has resulted in a predisposition to obesity, alcoholism and temperamental idiosyncrasies. Consequently spiritualism fell into disrepute while staid Theosophists still find it hard to live down the peccadilloes of H.P. Blavatsky. Would it be possible, then, to take someone like myself who is not in the least mediumistic and with the aid of ketamine deliberately widen the interstices of consciousness, as though fashioning a filigree of loose-knit filaments through which the light may shine?