Nevertheless, as I returned to normal awareness I still felt those low, lugubrious vibes. The room was ashen gray in the vanishing light and I wished that Howard had been there. Physically I felt fine but mentally I was flabbergasted, appalled and dismayed that the goddess, my beautiful goddess, should have given me a bummer just when I had been hoping for so much. I realized that for the sake of honesty I would have to reverse my declaration that ketamine never produced bad trips, since for people who are engrossed in ugly archetypes this sort of thing could probably happen frequently. I would also have to face whatever it was in me that had brought this to pass. At the same time it had been intriguing to discover that even in the bright world one can go slumming. Energy can be tainted and this too is a fact to be confronted. Just as there is a "big Santa Claus" in the sky, there evidently can be etherealized imprints of Mad magazine, raunchy movies and the dregs of the drug culture.
In some ways I felt like a fractious two-year-old who has pushed his mother to the limits of her patience out of curiosity to see how far he can go. Suddenly she lashes out and gives him a resounding slap on the bottom. The child is tearful and chastened, but at the same time relieved. At last he has found out where he stands. The boundaries of parental authority have been defined. Up to this point I had no idea how much ketamine might be too much. Now I was beginning to find out, and was willing to abide by the new dictum. Henceforth I would try to be more reverent and more moderate in my usage.
Despite this digression through the seamy side of consciousness I did not feel depressed. It had all been a necessary lesson, an issue that needed clarification for the sake of the research. Although I sensed that my system needed a rest the body felt fine with the usual relaxed afterglow. The conviction remained that we could count on fair treatment from the goddess if only we played the game correctly. Perhaps it is fortunate that there are built-in safeguards against over-use of this potent medicine. One should not take advantage of a person merely because he is gentle, and the same can be said for ketamine.
Ruminating over this experience I concluded that it was worthwhile to have traced the contours of the lower side of the mandala. It made my notes that much the more complete. Nevertheless, it must not happen again. There was no doubt but that over three and a half months I had acquired an increased measure of control. Now the time had come to utilize this growing skill. And indeed, as it turned out the next "trip" was the sweetest, gentlest one of all.
Since a respite was obviously needed I spent the next week preparing a rough draft of the manuscript of this book and assessing the personal results of our "samadhi yoga" program. Realistically speaking, what changes had been produced?
Physically I was feeling remarkably fit. Friends remarked how well I was looking and I believed them. A mild overstimulation of the nervous system had to some extent interferred with my sleep cycle but it seemed to be under control. Evidently insomnia was a possible side effect that would have to be watched.
Psychologically there was a greater need for silence and solitude. It was easier to meditate, especially since I could so much better appreciate the need for repeated forays into the supra-mental realm in order to lighten the heavy batter of the mundane personality. Increasingly my moments of Self recollection felt like folding bubbles into an angel cake. That is, there has to be a regular up and down blending rhythm if the finished product is to rise properly when exposed to the fires of the spirit. Samadhi therapy is certainly no substitute for meditation, but it can supply the incentive to make meditation an integral way of life.
It also seemed as though the texture of my being was becoming looser-less like leather and more like chiffon. Walks were more enjoyable as my senses became permeated by the greenness of the forests, the splashing of brooks, the dampness of the air, the warmth of the sun and the fragrance of the early spring flowers. It was easier to empathize with the problems of others but harder to get "uptight" over the self-created growing pains of humanity. God was in charge of His universe and it was coming along just fine. I still had my own up and down moods but was less apt to forget how much these passing humors depend on chemistry. AH in all, the memory of the joy world, only a few molecules away, seemed to be a remarkably stabilizing factor.
We continued to be keenly aware of the controversial aspects of our research and of the havoc it could create in our personal lives, even though we were charging no money for our services and were making every possible effort to keep our operation entirely legitimate. In view of our financial pressures, concern for Howard's job was no Mickey Mouse affair; it was entirely justifiable. But we had already passed the point of no return. Since there was only one way to go it seemed as though we might as well walk on and enjoy the countryside through which we were passing without undue regard for the opposition which would eventually have to be faced.
Spiritually, there was less sense of ego and more of self. Since egotism is, in general, a source of frustration and aggravation this diminution of the "big I" could only be a relief. Knowing that existence goes on and on it really didn't seem to matter much what happened to "me."
Admittedly the development of the individual ego serves a necessary function in motivating human growth. Perhaps the sense of being an altogether separate entity can be compared with the pattern which a seamstress uses in creating an outfit. A certain form must be imposed on the material at hand if it is to serve its purpose. Once the job has been done, however, the pattern can be discarded. So it is with the ego. For my own part, I felt whatever I was going to be was fairly well established. Concern for name, fame and worldly accomplishment were approaching the vanishing point. Yet the discipline of daily endeavor held firm. Knowing that there is no such thing as oblivion provides a strong incentive to work in whatever world one happens to be traveling through. At the same time I felt content to be one of God's earthworms preparing the soil for a new season of growth.
The only personal goal that really seemed alluring to either of us, apart from fulfilling our karmic duties, was that isolated home on the river where Howard could fish to his heart's content, I could write and family and friends might occasionally visit. "Trust in the cosmos. Whatever will be, will be." How delightful to be no longer afraid of cliches I It's the being, not the doing, that counts now. Even though ambition seemed to have flown the coop I still felt productive and able to rejoice that our work was helping others.
The week spun around and it was another misty Seattle Saturday. Howard and his daughter Valerie were off for the day and I was delighted to have the hours to catch up with my own eternal correspondence and immortal soul. By one o'clock in the afternoon both were in good shape. Lighting a stick of sandalwood incense I sat back in bed with pen, paper and a forty-milligram dose of ketamine.
By now I could gauge to within five milligrams how far a dose would take me, accounting for food recently consumed and my own state of mind. It had become possible to maintain the same continuity of consciousness at the forty-milligram level that had formerly stretched only to twenty-five. Yet I did not feel that I was acquiring tolerance for the substance. Rather, I was learning to deal with it better.
In determining the level reached much seemed to depend upon the order of business set forth by whatever intelligence was directing these trips. If I was simply playing my priestess role and monitoring someone else's journey then middling doses would not take me far from this world's squared-off realities. If, on the other hand, there was absolute privacy and the various departments of my life were reasonably well organized, the same dose would leave me gasping those oft-repeated words, "This is the deepest (or highest) I have ever been." In my mind this phrase had become the cry of the roots as they probed ever farther into the new element in which they were immersed. Whether these now flourishing roots of the psyche were actually extending deeper or higher seemed quite impossible to tell. Up or down-the distinction was as irrelevant as that between the stars over our heads and the stars under our feet. It was as hard to separate the above from the below as to discern the difference between a glimpse into the heart of the galaxy and a glimpse into the nebulae of atoms within the body.