By Dan Carpenter
A daring cartography of the internal panorama obvious merely to these experiencing altered states• provides the psychedelic adventure as an target panorama that embodies the opposite, instead of a subjective frame of mind• presents corroboration of phenomena encountered via those that enterprise into this domainJourneying into the invisible international published by way of his use of the dissociative psychedelic DXM (dextromethorphan), Dan chippie stumbled on that what he skilled was once no longer easily subjective sensations and mental states yet an aim global of widespread, if inordinately atypical, landmarks and characters. The working diary he saved of those voyages recounts impressions of a panorama charted by means of different tourists into this internal area and comprises descriptions of a few of the comparable phenomena recorded by way of such brain tourists as Terence and Dennis McKenna, Alexander and Ann Shulgin, and others who've skilled the hive mind--the pool of all awareness. Into this territory the place expression is like chaos concept, the place oddly symmetrical order manifests out of the likely anarchic swirl of pictures and occasions, the writer ventures with the state of mind of a naturalist, accepting no matter what can be instead of what he hopes he may perhaps locate. What emerges isn't a place crafted through subjective event, yet a panorama that embodies the opposite and that represents a wakeful nation during which the obstacles among the self and the not-self dissolve.
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Additional info for A Psychonaut's Guide to the Invisible Landscape: The Topography of the Psychedelic Experience
I was that single, burning fire in a forest that she could not extinguish, and the flickering of my flames scorched her inner child’s dream. She eventually telephoned my mother to ask her why I was so unfocused in the classroom. ” It was clear the words came from a greater authority, and I was a puppet under its control. “I thought so,” she replied. ” I heard her talking on the phone later that day. She said my teacher thought I should quit or slow down my training in gymnastics because it was taking the focus away from my schoolwork.
Slowly my breath returned, and I knew the medicine-filled air was killing the beast that had taken residence in my lungs. I lay there, exhausted from my fight, but once again feeling immortal and strong. I was still sick, but the storm was over. I watched my mother on the other side of the tent looking in at me with concern. She looked beautiful through the plastic, like a goddess. Quietly, surrendering to the air that filled my lungs, I breathed in every ounce of medicine that blew into the space.
Michael immediately came up with the idea that we could jump over objects and land on the cushions. He scavenged the basement and found a few things that we could dive over—a Styrofoam cooler for my father’s beer, a plastic cooler (also for my father’s beer), a vacuum cleaner, and anything else that we couldn’t easily break. We set up the cushions to land on, just inches away from the cold, stone hearth of the fireplace. Being smaller, I ended up clearing the most objects. It was as if I had springs in my legs, and I intuitively knew how to use them.