Archive for the ‘psychedelia’ Category

Take A Bath In The Dark

Thursday, November 22nd, 2012

Ever since I was a small child I’ve enjoyed taking a bath in the dark. These days I usually shower but when I do take a bath I still like it to be as near to pitch black as possible. Hotel bathrooms are often best for this as they don’t have windows. I find it relaxing and I can let imagination run riot and enjoy acid flash backs; or just create new hallucinations in my mind. So I see a hot bath in the dark as a real trip. You don’t even need to take drugs coz you can achieve the same effects without them!

Among my friends I only know of one other person who likes to take a bath in the pitch dark like me – and of course he’s a real stoner. So tonight I thought I’d check online to see what a quick search on this subject brought up. I was pleased but not surprised to find someone into shrooms suggesting it was better for hallucinations, but I was saddened to see a piece about some women taking baths in the dark so they didn’t have to see their own bodies. Others suggested it was perfectly normal to bath in candle light, but somewhat freaky to do it in the pitch black as if you were in a sensory deprivation tank. I don’t care whether it is normal or not! As far as I’m concerned it’s a groove sensation and I’m gonna carry right on doing it!

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!

Turn, Turn, Turn – Spinning Away from the Mysticism of the Dervishes

Sunday, September 2nd, 2012

When I was a toddler I used to like spinning around and around for long periods of time. Sometimes I’d fall down, while on other occasions I’d stop still standing up and marvel at the room still spinning around me despite my movements having ceased. When I first tried acid as a teenager it took me right back to these early childhood experiences of spinning. And although those first LSD experiences are a few decades behind me I can still dig whirling around and around.

I was spinning around this morning for the first time in several months and it really grooved me as a trippy experience. There’s nothing mystical or new age about such activity – it is simply playful fun. After spinning this morning I wondered if other adults liked to spin in this way without resorting to mystical justifications. Putting spinning into a search engine I was disappointed to discover the top results were all for the fixed bicycle exercise of that name. With whirling the lead results were for Sufi dervishes. Turning took me even further off-subject to items such as lathes.

For me spinning is just turn, turn, turn – but from there we can go on to overturn, overturn, overturn! Constituting yourself as a bourgeois subject is all about decorum and there is no decorum frolicking around in a spin. Whirling without mystical delusions is fundamental anti-bourgeois! Marx famously described religion as ‘the opium of the people’ and the ‘heart of a heartless world’, and so Marx would have understood the necessity of stripping the mysticism out of spinning and instead linking it to the states of radical subjectivity that accompany revolutionary activity. Disalienation entails reforging all our connections to our species being – and living up to our status as homo ludens! Turn, turn, turn to overturn, overturn, overturn!

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!

The Acid: on sustained experiment with lysergic acid diethylamide, or LSD by “Sam”

Tuesday, September 8th, 2009

The author of The Acid (Vision, London 2009) uses the pen name Sam, but is probably better known to most readers of this blog as Chris Gray. For me, and probably for many of you, The Acid reads like a continuation of where Chris left off in the essays he contributed to his English language Situationist anthology Leaving The 20th Century (1974). There he wrote: “What needs understanding is the state of paralysis everyone is in. Certainly all conditioning comes from society but it is anchored in the body and mind of each individual, and this is where it must be dissolved. Ultimately the problem is an emotional, not an intellectual one. All the analyses of reification in the world won’t cause a neurosis to budge an inch…”

In The Acid, Chris says of the counterculture: “Looking back on that time, what seems so incomprehensible is that we never took  LSD more seriously. How was it we failed to grasp its importance? For the concept of de-conditioning was at the heart of the New Left of the time. If any single feature set 60s and 70s radicalism apart from previous insurrectionary politics, it was insistence that individual subjectivity had to be transformed. The political was the personal. Politics were psychopolitics. Our own hearts and minds were precisely where the old order was ingrained – and if we couldn’t change ourselves, then what hope was there we could ever change the world?”

Many of those around Gray, including my mother Julia Callan-Thompson, took acid far more seriously than he did – but this was precisely because in the 1960s they were heads (whose attempts at personal transformation were doomed to failure because there was no accompanying social revolution) and he was a radical.

The Acid begins with a lucid overview of psychedelic literature and an account of Gray’s previous experiences with mind expanding substances. Chris also provides a potted autobiography, so that his readers can understand the material that comes up in the trips he describes. These vary from being joyous to total bummers. He was tripping every two to three weeks for three years as a self-prescribed acid therapy; an attempt to break down personal blockages. He tried different approaches to tripping: initially putting on a blindfold and listening to music in his flat, before moving on to outdoor excursions on Hampstead Heath. These accounts are very informative about ways of understanding and structuring trips, and will provide most readers with new approaches to the subject.

The back cover of the The Acid stresses that the breakthrough insight from these sessions is that the visions are serial. Drawing heavily on Stanislav Grof”s Realms of the Human Unconscious, Chris underlines the need to work through bad trips in order to transform oneself and achieve a sense of wholeness. The thrust of this argument I can run with, although I’m not sympathetic to all the psychoanalytic and religious elements drawn into the narrative. This is partly a generational difference, with the materials Gray used to structure his understanding of his ‘inner experiences’ very much mirroring those adopted by my mother and many of her friends in the 60s and 70s (that said, the psychedelic hermeticism my mother was involved in with Terry Taylor was quite different – and as far as I can tell, superior – to such deployments of Hinduism).

My view is that the varieties of Hinduism drawn upon by both my mother and Chris, and much of their ‘turned on’ generation, are too hierarchical to enable us to rediscover the forms of consciousness that characterised primitive communist societies. By way of contrast, shamanism (particularly in its voodoo and candomblé manifestations) does provide us with pathways to disalienation. LSD is, of course, a fantastic tool for inducing shamanistic experiences.

Mirroring Gray’s activities with King Mob in the 1960s, he draws on Keats and the English romantics as sources for understanding his experiences, whereas when it comes to LSD I would opt more for figures such as William Hope Hodgson (and others whose books currently exist outside the literary canon). This is not a matter of huge importance, and obviously reflects personal tastes and reading experiences. I went through Keats as a teenager and concluded I disliked his poetry.

The Acid is an engaging and thought provoking book, and while it is one man’s trip, it is also intended as a map that will assist any interested party in their own exploration of ‘inner space’. The text works on many levels, most obviously as a piece of writing that is a joy to read. If you have any interest in acid at all, then get your hands on this book!

But let’s give more or less the last word to Chris. He writes the following about his attendance at a San Francisco psychedelic conference in the early part of this millennium: “A well established, even well-heeled, cult I had been expecting; but not one thriving like this. The hall was so packed you could barely move. Of all the revolutionary groups of my youth – the Hippies, the New Left, the students, the blacks, the feminists – it was, however improbably, the druggies and the druggies alone who had made it through  in one piece. And not just survived, but boomed.”

Well, throw in some voodoo or candomblé and I think we have a revolutionary situation!

This book has been republished by Park Street Press as The Acid Diaries by Christopher Gray and is currently fairly easy to obtain. (Note added 15 December 2010).

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!

India freaks on the hippie trail in the high sixties…

Saturday, July 18th, 2009

Back in the late 1960s my mother Julia Callan-Thompson was  in the countercultural jargon of the time an ‘India freak’; a drop-out obsessed with the ‘mystic east’. Among my mother’s extant papers are a number of letters she sent while out on the hippie trail, and one she received from a woman called Georgian Shaw as she was making her way back to Europe. My favourite among the various surviving missives my mother sent my grandparents over the years is the following, mailed from Kathmandu on 13 June 1969:

“Everest although cold was the most beautiful sight you could see. Yes! we’re the luckiest people alive!!! Just returning from the mountains. Kathmandu seems such a big city now, although in comparison to London it’s just a village. Bruno has fractured his spine, nothing too serious, just that he must not carry anything or exert himself much for six months. We both would like to have a European summer, here the rainy season has started, rains at least 4-5 hours a day and July and August nearly all the day, enough of hot tropical weather. In India 150 degrees Fahrenheit, so we start back to drizzle and lukewarm weather, how we long for those cool English evenings. A friend is driving in about a week to Kabul in Afghanistan, that’s 3,000 miles of the 12,000 miles over to Europe, we should arrive in Kabul about the beginning of July or at the earliest last week in June. Its strange before I used to think that Wales was such a long way from London, now that 150 miles seems like a before breakfast walk.

“We hope to find a place to settle for a while, maybe, God willing, start a family, and live a normal family life. Travelling is one of the most stimulating things I know, but it’s a full time occupation, leaving no time for anything else. Bruno is dreaming of a big studio somewhere (maybe, South of France), where he can paint in peace and not have to leave things behind all the time because there’s too much to carry. It’s also time for us to become responsible citizens not wandering bums. Should see you sometime in August. Bruno wants so much to meet you all and me so proud of being a real countess although most of the time we don’t have two half pennies to rub together. Yes I’m married to the best man in the world. Love compensates for everything. We love you and will see you all soon…”

I guess that by 1969 my grandparents were used to receiving messages like this. It would have been quite something for a docker’s daughter like my mother to have become a countess; but she hadn’t actually married her boyfriend Bruno de Galzain, and he wasn’t a really count (although he delighted in telling people that he was).

As my mother returned west, she stopped off at the British Embassy in Kabul to pick up mail. When she went there she was handed the following missive from Georgina Shaw (which while addressed to her, seems to have been written more with Bruno in mind):

“Rishikesh 6th July 1969. Darlings God bless. Kabul Summer 1969, so glad we are together. I returned to Rishikesh full of thoughts of you which will continue to speed us all on our way and bring more meetings, more love. I wrote Layfayette that everything is fine. It is…

“Rarely can a trip to Delhi have been so miraculously rewarding.

“The spiritual circus continues to amuse in Rishikesh and the Ganges keeps us cool; perhaps we shall meet in a country garden in England.

“Stay wonderful.

“I shall not forget how beautiful Julie looked in the Nepalese gown – playing the one-stringed instrument. Happy days anyway you look at it. I love you. Delhi was peaceful compared with this seething metropolis where there is never a moments peace; Happy days.

“Pray that you are passing lightly through the trip and all is as it should be; as it must be.

“It is a great happiness to have seen you before you left, let me have news soon; I should love to know how Europe seems to be. We can at least be certain that Lucky will remain for a while yet.

“I AM AS HOLY AS POSSIBLE HERE.

“Swimming a good deal.

“How everybody scatters and regroups intricate karmas. Tokyo for Cherry Blossom twice – this year next year sometime…

“Your gift widened horizons in the foothills; I do not completely believe that the encounter between us actually took place, but exhibit A is pretty convincing.

“I think of you as though you were already in England; please write me news as soon as you can.

“Meanwhile Om Shanti. Peace and love and even flowers and incense. Hari Om and mostly Love, Georgina.”

After returning to London, Shaw would share a flat in Islington’s Thornhill Square with Carnaby Street fashion phenomenon Michael Fish, where she’d entertain figures both comic and influential, including seventies pot broker Howard Marks.

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!