Journal Entry – October 10th 2016

I am at times shocked by the level of eloquence with which I am occasionally able to transform the turbulent vibrations that flow through my being into static words on a page. I am in fact gifted in this sense and it would be either delusional or dishonest to state otherwise. Another quality with which I am apparently blessed, is my seemingly continuous state of salvation from what could reasonably be deemed a life of eternal hellfire.

Last night, after a family thanksgiving dinner with some of my more wholesome comrades, I made yet another pilgrimage to the downtown eastside of Vancouver to numb the pain of existence by way of smoking the concentrated extract of the seductively beautiful opium poppy.  As my mental state smoothly transitioned into a state of blissful nothingness, I was approached by a young man holding a meth pipe. He began to philosophize freely about his current state of affairs. Eventually, his ramblings revealed several things that we had in common, besides a penchant for hard drugs. It turned out that this 20-something year old named Jordon was also a software developer who also had a ten thousand dollar credit card debt. His drug of choice – crystal meth – and the corresponding fact that he had been awake for at least a couple of days, lent his thoughtful discussion a tense quality of emotional disconnect that contrasted with my own droopy vibrations.

As we sat and shared our own individual style of incoherent babble, a police car suddenly appeared directly before us in the heretofore darkened alleyway. I instinctively dropped the paraphernalia I was holding onto the ground, although my movement was not subtle enough to avoid the attention of the fresh-faced officers of the law whom had already jumped out of their vehicle. The young male cop immediately addressed my failed attempt  at concealment and demanded to know what I was left holding in my hand. I truthfully admitted that I was holding a piece of tinfoil and a bic lighter. He asked if I was in possession of any narcotics.  I nervously responded that I had picked up the tinfoil in hopes of finding some but that no, I did not have any drugs on me. Secretly, I was relatively sure that there was in fact a flap of heroin in my pocket. I did make at least one attempt to fish it out of my pocket and release it into the darkness. They noticed my movement however and told me to keep my hands where they could see them. Otherwise, they informed me, I would have to be put in handcuffs.

Although I was scared shitless to the point of visibly shaking, my partner in crime was strangely calm and continued to wax poetic, gently challenging the officers with a slew of cryptic queries, rendering them bewildered yet docile. I initially prayed for my friend to stop running his mouth but was eventually reassured by the officers’ subdued reactions. After a brief and minor lecture concerning the unnecessarily dangerous nature of our choice of nighttime activity, the officers bid us farewell and left us alone. I was beyond frazzled. The understanding of how unbearably close I had come to entering a world of utter disaster instilled in me such a powerful sense of relief that I could no longer hold a conversation with my new friend who was now expressing his amazement at the fact that he had actually gotten through to these young guardians of the law. It wasn’t long before we parted ways, and I took a seat on a curbside, entirely flabbergasted.

The unimaginable turmoil that I had just narrowly avoided continued to rock the foundations of my own peculiar slice of reality for the remainder of the night. At times I suspected the effect might have been of such influence that I’d be forced to halt my drug-seeking behaviour if I ever expected to fully recover. That suspicion quickly faded however, as I instinctively copped another point of down and made my way to the bus stop to wait for my ride home.

Journal Entry – July 11th 2016

I am incredibly blessed. I can feel the radiance of God’s smile as he lovingly gazes down upon my life. I am meeting new people, I’m learning new things, and my life’s horizons are generally expanding over a span of 360 degrees. I am a magnet for luck and opportunity. Before me lies a canvas of epic proportions for which the universe has provided a myriad of breathing colors perfectly sprawled across a monstrous palette encrusted with the jewels of ancient kings. The sincerity with which I write these words is causing each one of my limbs to vibrate to such an extent that I can barely keep the pen on the page. I am convinced that I am on the verge of levitating up and out of my chair. I’ve been smoothly blasted into a state of such transcendence that not even the gravity well of our beautiful mother earth can contain me.

This is me on stage making jokes. Do you like jokes?

Santo Daime in the Sacred Valley

(Read the full article at Reality Sandwich)

The last thing I would have expected to be doing on Halloween night was standing in a brightly lit room attempting to sing Portuguese hymns of Christian praise. Yet there I was, swaying back and forth, clad in white, leafing through a booklet of verse and mumbling along. I was barely able to stand by the end of it. I hung my head in my hands and endured tidal waves of nausea brought on by the medicinal sacrament that had been periodically served throughout the night. I forced myself to remain upright until the last recitation of the last Hail Mary was complete. The closing of the work initiated a reception of congratulations and gratitude during which I collapsed and recovered. I had survived my first experience with the doctrine of Santo Daime.
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The Sacred Valley: A Prototype for Psychedelic Society

The dream of a free society where psychedelic exploration is not prohibited is coming true. Acknowledgment of the medicinal and spiritual benefits of such activity is steadily breaking through to the mainstream. It’s hard to say when this transformation will be complete but that we are headed in that direction is increasingly obvious. Those of us with direct experience of intentional psychedelic therapy have seen that the personal effects that can arise will range from the subtle to the dramatic. Gentle bursts of creativity as well as total emancipation from addiction are not at all uncommon. How these personal breakthroughs will translate into a more generalized social shift is being slowly revealed. The transformation is of course more evident in some areas than in others.

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Photosphere of Copacabana, Bolivia

Copacabana, Bolivia

Let’s be Friends with Tobacco

(Read the full article at Psychedelic Press UK:

For most people, the concept of a shamanic healing retreat does not necessarily evoke images of it’s participants smoking big tobacco cigars throughout the course of the day. Yet, judging from my own experience at two separate retreats, that is often what seems to occur. Within the context of the indigenous culture that is providing the seeker with ancient knowledge and wisdom, tobacco is recognized as a sacred plant teacher and as such, it is to be treated with devotion and reverence. Therefore, the cultivation of a mindful relationship with tobacco is generally seen as a positive experience. As far as I can tell, this seems to be a common practice in nearly every indigenous culture throughout the Americas.
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How Bitcoin Changed My Life

I first began to pay close attention to Bitcoin about a year and a half ago during a backpacking trip to Colombia. I had been hanging out with a digital drug dealer who had given me a proper rundown of the online black market and how it worked. He was vacationing on the Caribbean coast to try kick a heroin habit he’d developed while working with the dark markets which gave him unprecedented access to high quality product. Unfortunately, the abundance of cheap cocaine was hindering his attempt at sobriety. It did however make for a lively and detailed lesson on Bitcoin and Silk Road. After returning to Vancouver, I continued to look into Bitcoin which resulted in the purchase of my first coin at the price of $35.

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The Temple of the Way of Don Charles

The secrets of the shamanic world of Ayahuasca have been steadily seeping into western awareness since the early part of the twentieth century. Today, in the year of 2014, hundreds of Ayahuasca retreat centres exist with the purpose of providing the spiritual seeker with an authentic taste of the magic potion that has been transforming human consciousness for probably thousands of years.

The verdict is quite clear. Ayahuasca is first and foremost an incredibly effective healing agent. Having already inspired the creation of two federally sanctioned religions as well as a sprawling underground network of outlaw shamanic practice, the sacred medicine is not showing any signs of slowing down. It’s ultimate goal, I would presume, is a world wide reformation of human values; a lofty mission, to be sure. However, if the conditions of our salvation are not set at the level of the miraculous, the environmental and spiritual crisis we collectively face as a species will be impossible to overcome and the level of global destruction—already significant—will increase to a scale few of us dare to imagine.

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