The words “awakening,” “woke,” and even the slightly less rejected "enlightened" have been culturally put in the corner and shamed from usefulness. For a better understanding of the actual definition and not what is manufactured for “cancel culture,” I offer these synonyms from Thesaurus.com. Enlightened: wise, open-minded, tolerant, reasonable, and civilized. Synonyms for woke: alert, vigilant, watchful, and “open one’s eyes.” Lastly, awakening: renewal, animating, and kindling.
Today’s input for my personal “research” or "enlightenment" was an interview with Dr. Roland Griffiths, a neuroscientist and researcher, on how psychedelics might help humans evolve. The link to the interview is in the Illuminations section at the end of this newsletter.
Life might be thought of as less turbulent when it is considered cemented in place, as though evolution and change are avoidable if beliefs, current knowledge, and resistance to change are gripped tenaciously. That isn’t true, even when a collective holding a belief or understanding insists it is. Every life form evolves. This may be noted in nature, which could be stated as further validation that evolution in humans (also a part of nature) is a reliable theory. If a species or an individual goes extinct due to a lack of adaptation to circumstances, age, or illness, it could be viewed as additional evidence that “we” evolve, even if, at the end of our physical evolution, we die.
While plastic surgery can delay the aging of the external self, it does nothing to allay the onset of dementia, diabetes, cancer, and the relentless march of cells toward extinction. What has been found to slow the progression of one aspect of the aging process, the human mind, is the intake of new ideas and experiences and the expansion of knowledge.
Why might an “awakening” of the mind have benefits?
Because the act of inviting fresh and occasionally oppositional input invites and welcomes change.
During the interview with Dr. Griffiths, he spent time focusing on how people’s understanding about their interconnectedness with other humans and the planet can change after having a single dose of a hallucinogen. This brought to mind my only interaction with psilocybin, generally known as “magic mushrooms.”
At twenty-four, I was regularly called an “old” adult for my age. Professionally, I helped manage a large restaurant and nightclub, scheduled and directed the work of dozens of employees, and on busy Saturday nights, handled over twenty thousand dollars. In my private life, a person versed in the human condition wouldn’t use the term “old” to describe how I was living outside of work.
On a day away from my job, I headed up into one of the surrounding foothills with several bartenders. Toward the end of the drive, I was given “shrooms” prior to horseback riding. Aside from a short exploration of weed in high school, I hadn’t expanded my experience with other drugs. As I chewed the bitter and rubbery substance, I had little understanding of what would happen next.
Having ridden once or twice more than the others, I was given the largest and fastest horse. He was massive. Not then or since have I been near a larger animal. It took two stable hands standing side-by-side on a three-step to hoist me to his back. Once astride, holding the reins, my fingertips felt tingly, and an odd warmth pooled in my groin, as though I were urinating even though I wasn’t. I should have realized the psilocybin was taking effect, but I attributed the body symptoms to fear, though if asked, I’d have said I felt wildly giddy and untamed, not afraid.
A guide set off on the trail, and our line of horses meekly followed. The air seemed to be coming alive, as though every cell of every organism was waking as we entered the woods. My own “awakening” to the reality of magic mushrooms on an inexperienced rider astride a humongous horse didn’t surface; if anything, reality sped away, and I joyfully rode in the opposite direction. Things grew ever more surreal. Trees were a multiverse of unimaginable color. Having always loved Disney movies, Technicolor had been a dull replacement for the palette that a hallucinogen provided. My mind gasped at each new element the day presented. I’d never experienced the world as mind-bendingly beautiful.
Wildly Giddy & Untamed leaned down and whispered to the horse, “Go.”
I imagined I was Velvet Brown riding The Pie in the Grand National Race.
We sped along the tight trail and then off the trail, ducking beneath branches, leaping over downed trees, and surging out into a glorious fairy tale meadow. I laughed so loudly that I wondered who was laughing so loudly. My legs slid behind me until only my hands gripped the mane, having dropped the reins along the way. I clung to the enormous horse and had no belief I would die—or if I did, it would be perfect.
The horse grew tired, and my ride came to an end when he sensed proximity to the stable and his stall. All the other horses and riders were waiting for us, with the guide wearing a wide grin and praise for my “brilliant” riding. On the drive home, I closed my eyes and begged the mushrooms to release me. When I opened them, the hallucinogen persisted, and I frantically worried the world would remain Technicolor or I’d be diagnosed with schizophrenia. My panic grew as the hours passed and the world resisted boring. The bartenders suggested I drink alcohol to tone down my nervous system, and after another hour, the boring world at last returned. Alas, the fragile enlightenment I had found that day didn’t age with me; it waited impatiently in a Technicolor closet until I heard the interview with Dr. Griffiths.
I visualized a reenactment of how expansive, dramatic, and thrilling life had been for such a briefly long time. Again, I was enabled to forget “who” I was and stumbled upon “what” I am. The memory of a dirt-tasting mushroom stripping away all that had imprinted me into an adulthood of drudgery. I re-met how it feels to be alive without the imprint of someone else’s boot, re-experiencing that I am a thread of mycelium in a vast network of an interconnected organism called Earth.
Perhaps enlightenment isn’t fragile. Perhaps it’s closed-off thinking that’s fragile, and by welcoming the wildly giddy and untamed, there are technicolor moments ahead.
Somewhere, a girl on a horse laughs.
Illuminations:
Griffiths, R., 2021. Fantastic fungi global summit. Louiechannel [dot] tv.
*I highly recommend this interview to learn about ongoing research into the effects of hallucinogens, not only for mental health and struggles with addictions, but to gain insight into how they may be used to ameliorate fears surrounding the death state.
**As an aside, isn’t it vastly interesting I named my dog “The Pi Man?”