climax  of  her journey,    she had an  encounter   with    a   god who called
himself “I  Am.”    In  its presence,   she recalled,   “every  one of  my  chakras
was exploding.  And then    there   was this    light,  it  was the pure    light   of  love
and divinity,   and it  was with    me  and no  words   were    needed. I   was in  the
presence    of  this    absolute    pure    divine  love    and I   was merging with    it, in
this    explosion   of  energy  .   .   .   Just    talking about   it  my  fingers are getting
electric.   It  sort    of  penetrated  me. The core    of  our being,  I   now knew,   is
love.   At  the peak    of  the experience, I   was literally   holding the face    of
Osama   bin Laden,  looking into    his eyes,   feeling pure    love    from    him and
giving  it  to  him.    The core    is  not evil,   it  is  love.   I   had the same    experience
with    Hitler, and then    someone from    North   Korea.  So  I   think   we  are
divine. This    is  not intellectual,   this    is  a   core    knowingness.”
I   asked   Sokel   what    made    her so  sure    this    wasn’t  a   dream   or  drug-
induced fantasy—a   suggestion  that    proved  no  match   for her noetic  sense.
“This   was no  dream.  This    was as  real    as  you and I   having  this
conversation.   I   wouldn’t    have    understood  it  either  if  I   hadn’t  had the
direct  experience. Now it  is  hardwired   in  my  brain   so  I   can connect to  it
and do  often.”
This    last    point   James   alludes to  in  his discussion  of  the third   mark    of
mystical    consciousness,  which   is  “transiency.”   For although    the mystical
state   cannot  be  sustained   for long,   its traces  persist and recur,  “and    from
one recurrence  to  another it  is  susceptible of  continuous  development in
what    is  felt    as  inner   richness    and importance.”
The fourth  and last    mark    in  James’s typology    is  the essential
“passivity” of  the mystical    experience. “The    mystic  feels   as  if  his own will
were    in  abeyance,   and indeed  sometimes   as  if  he  were    grasped and held
by  a   superior    power.” This    sense   of  having  temporarily surrendered to  a
superior    force   often   leaves  the person  feeling as  if  he  or  she has been
permanently transformed.
For most    of  the Hopkins volunteers  I   interviewed,    their   psilocybin
journeys    had taken   place   ten or  fifteen years   earlier,    and yet their   effects
were    still   keenly  felt,   in  some    cases   on  a   daily   basis.  “Psilocybin awakened
my  loving  compassion  and gratitude   in  a   way I   had never   experienced
before,”    a   psychologist    who asked   not to  be  named   told    me  when    I   asked
her about   lasting effects.    “Trust, Letting go, Openness,   and Being   were
the touchstones of  the experience  for me. Now I   know    these   things
                    
                      frankie
                      (Frankie)
                      
                    
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