path    forward and back,   immersing   us  in  the flow    of  a   present that    is
literally   wonderful—wonder    being   the by-product  of  precisely   the kind    of
unencumbered    first   sight,  or  virginal    noticing,   to  which   the adult   brain
has closed  itself. (It’s   so  inefficient!)   Alas,   most    of  the time    I   inhabit a
near-future tense,  my  psychic thermostat  set to  a   low simmer  of
anticipation    and,    too often,  worry.  The good    thing   is  I’m seldom
surprised.  The bad thing   is  I’m seldom  surprised.
What    I   am  struggling  to  describe    here    is  what    I   think   of  as  my  default
mode    of  consciousness.  It  works   well    enough, certainly   gets    the job done,
but what    if  it  isn’t   the only,   or  necessarily the best,   way to  go  through life?
The premise of  psychedelic research    is  that    this    special group   of
molecules   can give    us  access  to  other   modes   of  consciousness   that    might
offer   us  specific    benefits,   whether therapeutic,    spiritual,  or  creative.
Psychedelics    are certainly   not the only    door    to  these   other   forms   of
consciousness—and   I   explore some    non-pharmacological alternatives    in
these   pages—but   they    do  seem    to  be  one of  the easier  knobs   to  take    hold
of  and turn.
The whole   idea    of  expanding   our repertoire  of  conscious   states  is  not
an  entirely    new idea:   Hinduism    and Buddhism    are steeped in  it, and
there   are intriguing  precedents  even    in  Western science.    William James,
the pioneering  American    psychologist    and author  of  The Varieties   of
Religious   Experience, ventured    into    these   realms  more    than    a   century
ago.    He  returned    with    the conviction  that    our everyday    waking
consciousness   “is but one special type    of  consciousness,  whilst  all about
it, parted  from    it  by  the filmiest    of  screens,    there   lie potential   forms   of
consciousness   entirely    different.”
James   is  speaking,   I   realized,   of  the unopened    door    in  our minds.  For
him,    the “touch” that    could   throw   open    the door    and disclose    these
realms  on  the other   side    was nitrous oxide.  (Mescaline, the psychedelic
compound    derived from    the peyote  cactus, was available   to  researchers at
the time,   but James   was apparently  too fearful to  try it.)
“No account of  the universe    in  its totality    can be  final   which   leaves
these   other   forms   of  consciousness   quite   disregarded.
“At any rate,”  James   concluded,  these   other   states, the existence   of
which   he  believed    was as  real    as  the ink on  this    page,   “forbid a   premature
closing of  our accounts    with    reality.”
                    
                      frankie
                      (Frankie)
                      
                    
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