Life lived in the absence of the psychedelic experience is life trivialized, life denied, life enslaved to the ego.
You are a divine being. You matter, you count. You come from realms of unimaginable power and light, and you will return to those realms.
You simply have to turn your back on a culture that has gone sterile and dead and get with the program of a living world and the imagination.
The syntactical nature of reality, the real secret of magic, is that the world is made of words. And if you know the words that the world is made of, you can make of it whatever you wish.
We tend to disempower ourselves. We tend to believe that we don’t matter. And in the act of taking that idea to ourselves we give everything away to somebody else, to something else.
We are so much the victims of abstraction that with the Earth in flames we can barely rouse ourselves to wander across the room and look at the thermostat.
The cost of sanity, in this society, is a certain level of alienation.
Our need to feel part of the world seems to demand that we express ourselves through creative activity.
We are caged by our cultural programming. Culture is a mass hallucination, and when you step outside the mass hallucination you see it for what it’s worth.