Terrence Mckenna

[Breukelen advocaat]

Here's something about this by Terrence McKenna:

Alien Love
Hello... so, that was like an introduction, ha ha! Now for some preaching to the choir on the subject of: How come it is that the further in you go, the bigger it gets?

I remember the very, very first time I smoked DMT. It was sort of a benchmark, you might say. And I remember that this friend of mine that always got there first, visited me with this little glass pipe, and this stuff which looked like orange mothballs. And since I was a graduate of Dr. Hofmann's, I figured there were no surprises. So the only question I asked was how long does it last? And he said, About five minutes. So, I did it. And...

There was uh, something like a flower. Like a chrysanthemum in orange and yellow that sort of spinning. Spinning. And then, it was like I was pushed from behind and I fell through the chrysanthemum into another place that didn't seem like a state of mind. It seemed like another place. And what was going on in this place (aside from the tastefully soffited indirect lighting and the crawling hallucinations along the domed wall), what was happening was that there were a lot of beings in there, a lot of what I call self-transforming machine elves. Sort of like jeweled basketballs all dribbling their way toward me. And if they had faces they would've been grinning at me, but they didn't have faces. And they assured me that they loved me, and they told me not to be amazed, not to give way to astonishment. And so I watched them, even though I wondered if maybe I hadn't really done it this time! And what they were doing, was they were making objects come into existence by singing them into existence. Objects which looked like Faberge eggs from Mars, morphing themselves with Mandaean alphabetical structures. They looked like the concrescence of linguistic intentionality put through a kind of hyperdimensional transform into three-dimensional space. And these little machines offered themselves to me. And I realized when I looked at them, that if I could bring just one of these little trinkets back, nothing would ever be quite the same again.

And I wondered where am I? And what is going on? And it occurred to me that these must be holographic viral projections from an autonomous continuum that was somehow intersecting my own. And then I thought, a more elegant explanation would be to take it at face value, and realize that I had broken into an ecology of souls, and that somehow I was getting a peek over the other side. Somehow, I was finding out that thing, that you cheerfully assume you can't find out... but it felt like I was finding out. And it felt... and then I can't remember what it felt like because the little self-transforming tikes interrupted me and said, Don't think about it. Don't think about who we are-- think about doing what were doing. Do it! Do it now. Do it!

Speaking in Tongues

And what they meant was: use your voice to make an object. And as I understood I felt a bubble kind of grow inside of me. And I watched these little elf tikes jumping in and out of my chest (they liked to do that to reassure you), and they said, Do it! And I felt language rise up in me that was unhooked from English and I began to speak like this:

Eeeoo ded hwauopsy mectoph, mectagin dupwoxin, moi phoi wops eppepepekin gitto phepsy demego doi aga din a doich demoi aga donc heedey obectdee doohueana.

(Or words to that effect). And I wondered then what it all meant, and why it felt so good (if it didn't mean anything). And I thought about it a few years, actually, and I decided, you know, that meaning and language are two different things. And that what the alien voice in the psychedelic experience wants to reveal is the syntactical nature of reality. That the real secret of magic, is that the world is made of words, and that if you know the words that the world is made of, you make of it, whatever you wish!

Eh moi dea doi phegenheggo...

And one of the things that I learned about DMT, was that, if you ever had it, even just once, then you can have a dream. And in this dream somebody will pull out a little glass pipe, and then it will happen. It will happen just like the real thing. Because theres a button somewhere inside each and every one of us that gives you a look into the other side. And thats the button that resets the compass that tells you where you want to sail. Good luck!
http://users.lycaeum.org/~sputnik/mckenna/alien.html

[Breukelen advocaat]

"And if they had faces they would've been grinning at me, but they didn't have faces. And they assured me that they loved me, and they told me not to be amazed, not to give way to astonishment. And so I watched them, even though I wondered if maybe I hadn't really done it this time!"
Terrence McKenna

McKenna did an interview during his last six months, and said that death from cancer, at a premature age, was not what he'd envisioned. He always thought that he would eventually end up in a mental hospital or institution.

As far as the brain tumor, and his drug use, he had expected his doctors to say, "See!", "Told you so", or something to that effect, and even thought to himself that drug use had caused the tumor. But when he mentioned this to the doctors, to his surprise, they poopoohed the notion that the drugs were responsible.