Altered states

Notes from Cuzco, Peru ~ April 1977

On the slopes of the Andes, in a yurt overlooking a sage-green valley, I’m participating in a peyote ceremony that has taken place here for over 1,000 years. I’m collecting data for my senior thesis: ‘The neurological basis of hallucinations’. However, none of my faculty advisers know I’m here, and if they did ..they would probably deny any involvement. I’m here because I want to experience, first hand, the psychological effects of a guided peyote session the way it’s practiced by South American Indians ..and not for purposes of recreation the way I used to. I have a theory that human nature follows a cycle; it fluctuates between the need for ‘order and stability’ ..followed by the need for ‘exploration and rebellion’ against order and stability. I arrived at this theory from reading books by Aldous Huxley, as well as personal experience. I’m hardly able to sustain a committed relationship for more than a few months. Anyway, I believe that early Indian cultures had less destructive ways to deal with this cycle that didn’t involve excessive alcohol, domestic violence or broken homes. The peyote ceremony is, in a sense, a ‘guided’ exploration into altered states of consciousness ..followed by a gentle period of ‘re-entry’ that allows participants to integrate their extra-ordinary experiences with the ordinary reality of everyday life. It satisfies the need for exploration in a way that is far less disruptive, and way more conducive, to the well being of the individual and the tribe.

The session: Our Guide is waving a rope of burning incense (intended to awaken our senses). A drum beats softly (intended to strengthen our bond to the present). Tea is poured and cups passed ceremoniously between participants sitting cross-legged around a low bronze table. The simple act of sharing also helps bring us back to the present. I feel grounded and eager to see what happens next. After a wave of nausea ..images of my early childhood begin to appear, one after another, leaving me clutching at something for security (later I find my shirt lying bunched-up and wet on the floor beside me). Our Guide gently reminds us to watch these images flow until they vanish. Now I hear someone playing a flute. Sounds soothing. Now I feel alternating sensations of tea and mango juice splash down my throat. Sweet and refreshing. I pass the plate from one grinning face to another. Now I’m grinning too. Now it looks like I’m sitting between two huge grinning masks ..suspended in space. One of them starts laughing ..then another ..and another ..until the yurt is rocking with waves of laughter. I feel my grip loosening, and worries, stretching back as far as I can remember ..lift like fog. I feel euphoric.

Re-entry: I’m listening to our guide give instructions for re-entry. It goes something like this:

“As you return, imagine a river flowing softly ..its power comes from yielding. As you return, remember the watercourse way ..choose harmony as you go. As you return, remember the watercourse way ..the soft quality of harmony will overcome the hard barriers in your way. Remember, follow the watercourse way …the watercourse way …the watercourse way ..” 

and I could hardly forget. I could still hear these words echoing in my head for weeks afterward while I finished writing my thesis and submitting it for a round of grueling final arguments. I think the echoes helped. Either that or my inquisitors just caved.

The resulting academic screed can be viewed here ~>[SeñorThesis]