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Stanislav Grof

I am reading a book by Stan Grof titled “Healing our Deepest Wounds”, which was written more or less at the request of Vaclav Havel, as a summary of his work.  He himself recommends “Psychology of the Future” as a best overview, but I already had this book when I learned that.

And being me, I am contemplating.  One unfortunate thing I noticed in interacting with him in person is that I retain huge unprocessed emotional energy regarding Father archetypes, which he unquestionably is.  He is a sincere, decent human being, deeply knowledgeable, and has accomplished a great deal.  He has never particularly sought nor avoided the limelight.  He has simply, as far as I can tell, tried to do good, useful work.

I tend, though, not to respect any authority.  In some cases this is good.  I think much of Western culture in the sense of material progress has arisen because of our ability to go beyond those who came before.  Rather than value their work for its own sake, we break it, rebuild it, and make it better.  Again, this applies mainly to the material domain.  Spiritually, of course, we are if anything moving backwards.

All this to say, of course, that I thought I was a bit clumsy, but there is nothing I can do about it at the moment.

But I would like to focus a moment on his work, which remains relatively unknown to many, particularly in Western Europe and the United States.

In a nutshell, what he did was vastly expand the domain of human consciousness, and thereby the domains of healthy, appropriate thoughts, emotions and behaviors.  This is enormous.

Among other things, he offers a mindset and therapeutic understanding which could easily bring thousands–perhaps more–of people currently classified as psychotic within the realm of the well adapted, without drugs.  Such an inclusion would both require and ENABLE a vast expansion of our collective understanding of what it means to be human.

When we think Depth Psychology, for most this is either Freud or Jung.  Freud is what academic psychiatrists study, and Jung tends to be popular among people who read Joseph Campbell, or who can’t bring themselves to accept Freud’s materialism, or following psychodynamic reductionism.

Freud initiated the idea that early childhood experience is vastly important.  He stumbled, as I have said, early on on the idea of hysteria being the result of traumatic early sexual experiences, and he developed a method (no doubt drawing on earlier or contemporaneous work) called abreaction of eliciting deep feelings–of fear, of being trapped, of being angry, of being sexual, etc.–allowing them full expression, and then letting them subside.   This method worked.

Jung proposed the idea of the Collective Unconscious.  What he found is that certain deep themes seem to be a shared property of humanity as a whole.  But Jung seems never to have pursued abreaction at all.  Here is an entry whose very brevity indicates the relative unimportance of this in my view critical discovery within the history of Depth Psychology: Abreaction.

Here is a comment on Jung’s use of abreaction:

 “though traumata of clearly aetiological significance were occasionally
present, the majority of them appeared very improbable. Many traumata
were so unimportant, even so normal, that they could be regarded at most
as a pretext for the neurosis. But what especially aroused my criticism
was the fact that not a few traumata were simply inventions of fantasy
and had never happened at all”.

Asked about Rank’s theory on birth trauma, Jung replied, as I understand it: We are all born.  That was that.

But Grof had the unique privilege of being a psychiatrist in clinical practice allowed by law to give doses of pharmaceutical grade LSD to patients in controlled clinical settings, over a period of many years.

And what he found was that the birth trauma very much does not only remain with people, it remains at a very deep level, and in many cases, unprocessed, it colors the entire complexion of a life.  This is enormous.

All of the traumas Jung ascribed to fantasy could quite easily be seen, within this paradigm, as symbolic manifestations of traumas which could not otherwise expressed.

And again, if a newborn goes its first week without nursing, we consider this a traumatic event in modern practice.  We know that little babies who do not get enough affection and love react with withdrawal and other symptoms which persist into adulthood.  There is little serious question about this, even within the mainstream.

What then is the magic event which turns a baby from a Tabula Rasa the moment before its umbilical cord is cut, into a sensitive and delicate creature the moment afterwards?  The idea is preposterous.

The reason I looked (cursorily, I must admit, for the moment, although the basics seem clear enough) into abreaction at all was that I asked Stan a question that I think he had not recently considered the answer to.  I asked him: do you think the reason that psychiatrists reject the idea of perinatal trauma is that they have no effective tools with which to deal with it?

I thought this was a good question.  It seems obvious enough to me that ALL MD’s, psychiatrists included, tend to relish the power relationship implied in having unique, presumably socially useful knowledge.  What happens when they don’t have an answer, even in theory?  I once asked a martial arts teacher if the name of technique X he had shown us wasn’t actually Y.  I did not realize it at the time, but I put both him and the other students into a sort of existential crisis whose depth I only grasped when they were able to collectively sigh relief at him finding that technique in fact was best called X within the school we were then studying.  This was instructive to me, in itself.

Practically, psychiatry medicates and “pathologizes” whatever it does not understand.  This is not skill: it is high grade and expensive imbecility.

The problem is exacerbated once one grasps the HUGE importance of the psychoanalysis all psychiatrists have to undergo, which in the magical space within which these people operate is supposed to work to resolve them of all psychological conflicts which might interfere with their intent of becoming superior human beings.

Granting that perinatal trauma not only exists, but is of HUGE, enormous clinical importance, would cause a rift in the complacent world views of these people.  It would, within their world view, imply that they themselves are incompletely analyzed, that they have not sufficiently prepared themselves for their sacred role as divine mediators between the realms: sanity and insanity.  Hell, some of them may even be nuts themselves, despite being declared “clean”, and particularly since this is in fact the case, the objective truth, in my view, this notion, this very path of thought, is insufferable.

And add to this of course the mechanistic bias of almost all contemporary “science” (Scienceishness?  Scientocity”) and you eradicate the realm of the Transpersonal/Collective Unconscious as well.

I have to run, but this is how the lunatics got in control of the asylums.  More to say later.

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Buddha Spirit

Few thoughts, a dream.

What if Jesus and the Buddha–the two I think of when I think deep spirituality–were really just apprentice spirits?  What if the Earth is a primitive spiritual backwater where souls learning the craft of ministry, of teaching, come for their first practical experience?  What if all Jesus and Buddha did was communicate what is obvious to all spirits even slightly more advanced than us?  What if they only seemed advanced and infinitely higher on the qualitative horizon because they were, but only relative to us? 

What if you have to save a planet to get your first spiritual “promotion”?  What if you have to save 30 for your second, a galaxy for your third, and 30 galaxies for your fourth?  What if there are a hundred promotions?

It is worth doing thought exercises both in the very large and the very small.

An image that came to me the other day is that of our own world as a sort of fountain, where virtue flows up and down, in roughly the same way, but constantly changing.  How high does the water surge in a fountain?  10′, plus or minus 2′?  That is history.  That is cultural highs and lows.

What if this level of the universe has always been like this, and is destined always to be like this?  What if you can’t alter the role this level of reality must play in the grand scheme of things?  What if Lao Tzu’s essential pessimism about any final, lasting improvements is the wisest stance?

Last night I dreamed I was trying to protect a parade from a group of demons. In my dream, I had done this exercise many times before, and always won.  I had a number of compatriots.  But I was overconfident, poorly armed, and we were overwhelmed.  I was immune, but many were taken.

And I was led in my dream to a stand where people were supposed to come to be saved, but were instead turned into zombies.  I tried to fight them, but I was powerless to stop them.  Then I was flying, and I could see an ocean of souls moving about like the zombies in World War Z.  Trillions of them, oceans of them, climbing on one another, forming planet-sized waves, in constant motion, constant agitation.

Then I came back to the stand, and saw a computer and realized there was a second layer to these people, and that behind all of them was a Buddha spirit.  The way to save them was by clicking on the Buddha icon.  I “activated” 6 and then woke up.

In recent days I have been more or less offering myself to Death.  This has many symbolic resonances, and I do not want to kill it with overanalysis, but will make a few comments.

First, this is not morose in the slightest.  It seems to be eroding a standing fear I have had, and is actually making me calmer and more relaxed.  I am smiling more.

Second, we assume that the “good guys” always have to win, and I reached a point some time ago where I never have uncontrolled darkness in my dreams. I control things.  I can create weapons, fly, walk through walls, float through ceilings, exist underwater, etc.  But is this most wise?  Behind the darkness of what we might even call the Satanic, there is rebirth.

I am constricted in my emotional and perceptual movement.  I am not fully free.  And think about this:  if being who you are is sanity, then changing who you are qualitatively–even choosing not to be who you are, but no one else either–is a type of madness.

If I am always me, I am limited to being me.  I cannot as easily, figuratively, float in the clouds and flow in the streams, and find comfort deep underground.  I am not fire and wind.  I am not the rustling of leaves, the cackling of hens, or young deer looking for tender young greens.

To do these things, I must leave myself, and as already posited, not being yourself is a type of madness.

In Sanskrit they speak of the ego as the “I Maker”.  It forms the I, but the point I want to make is that this construction process is continuous.  It never stops.  You are being built at the same time you are breaking down.

Who are you when you are lost completely in a beautiful scene?  Who are you when you are so lost in a lover you lose track of time and reason?  Who are you in a meditation so deep you lose consciousness of your body?  You are what underlies the work of the “I-Maker” (ahamkara).  You are something else, which may as well be called “that” (and of course has been).

Here is the point I draw, here: ONLY when you are helping someone realize their inner Buddha spirit are you helping them, truly.  Nothing else matters.  Anything else, and you are simply lost in an endless ocean of motion, without mind, without meaning.  Samsara CONSISTS in getting hungry, sick, old, and dying.  This is nothing new.

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Manic Order

As I have said often enough, I think that without periodic lunacy, we all go mad.

The madness of much of our modern world is that madness can be eliminated.   Qualitative outliers–the random, the unpredictable, the inherently uncontrollable–can be vanquished.  Perfect order can be achieved. I mock this order in my Inquisitor piece by offering an image of Sade salivating over a billion piles of perfectly arranged ash.

But it truly seems to me that the transhumanists want something like this.  They want order, order that is as transcendent as their materialistic biases allow.  They do not want qualitative reorganization through mania, through visions, through useful delusions and hallucinations.  They do not want the uncontrolled, the Dionysian, the ecstatic, EXCEPT when and how they want it, via drugs–and later software–carefully programmed to create an exact and predictable effect.

Let me ask this question: if a drug existed which when taken would give you the same thrill solving the equation 2+2=4 that Einstein got in deriving General Relativity, would you take it?  What if the thrill were LARGER, exponentially so?  What if the feeling could be induced in you of ecstasy that lasted for days?

What if you could be made to fall in love with your phone?  What if chemicals could be administered which not only mimicked the best, highest qualitative feelings of being in love, but surpassed them considerably?

What role does conscious awareness play, what role logic, in this universe?  What purpose does life have?  If we can take drugs which create the FEELING of purpose while floating aimlessly in a backyard pool, can we say that the concept of “meaning” has meaning, that it is something more than a biochemical sensation? 

I say yes, definitely so.  I say that mechanistic understandings of life make these sorts of mind experiments possible, but that in the final analysis, life is not coterminous with biology.  This is a metaphysical point, and a critical one; and one at that well supported empirically.

We can discuss these issues, and failure is not inevitable.  We do not have to abandon principle at the first sign of resistance.  We do not have to feel guilt at not always being “nice”.  We can stake claims as to what it means to be human, and counter the claims of those whose empirical backing is much weaker.

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Morning After

Oh, we have all gone, I think, those places booze takes us.  It loosens up emotional flow, leading to too much, on many occasions, but for many too much is needed, at least at times.

For me, this resurgence in drinking will not last long. I already feel its limits.

For years, I have said that anything I say while drinking is true, and that remains true as I read the increasingly “loose” stuff I posted last night.

How many of us, I wonder, really grasp on an emotional level the tyranny of the alarm clock?  How many of us feel how little the world CAN care about us, when all the movements are scripted?  How many of us can dream openly of a world where we belong?  Where everyone belongs?  Where belonging is a principle characteristic of that world?

How many of you feel the evil in those who want to confine us, cage us, reduce us, kill us?  How many of you see this on the horizon?

I am certainly hung over, but not drunk at all.  I got enough sleep.  Normal madness should be a part of every day.  I retain, at this moment, the capacity for sustained close reasoning, but choose to express myself in this way.

I would wish for you today to look at your world as a stranger, and understand all the ways in which it does not make you feel at home.

And tomorrow, may you feel all the ways you belong.

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Beauty

Still working on the 750.  Just about done.   What I feel is a happiness and beauty I want to share.

What I will say to you is that everything you do and say in the coming day is holy.  Do you believe this?  Is this Stupid?

Pay attention.  You can do better.

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Hope

I’m drinking.  I’ll have a 750 of tequila in me before I hit the sack.

My blessing and curse is to retain a high degree of lucidity.  What I am processing is weeks of ambiguity.  I hit in the past few weeks the Getty in LA, the LA County Museum of Art, Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, and other places.  I watched people, and more importantly watched art.  I felt.  I went deep.

I did Breathwork, and my spiritual guide was five circular saws dedicated to destroying me utterly.  Yesterday and today, I decided to give it rein.  I see myself being cut to pieces, sawed into pieces, dissolved in acid, decapitated, thrown from height, smashed into a pulp.  Hated, always hated.

I have allowed and emphasized negative internal dialogue: you are stupid, you suck, no one likes you, you will fail, everything you do is meaningless, you are ugly and fat, no woman will ever like you, you are still stupid, you are still ugly, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

Funny thing: not only am I still alive, but something in me is getting stronger, and it thinks this whole thing is funny.

I will never be New Age material.  I will never stop saying the word Fuck.  But I will say that solutions are possible for all ailments.  Sometimes the fix is making the problem worse.  Do you disagree with me?  Go fuck yourself.  Use your right hand unless you are a lefty.

Ooh Rah.

Edit: goddammnit: I am a cliche.  I feel love for all the absurd when I am drinking.  I feel love for all those who don’t fit in.  I feel love for curved lines, stupidity, bold but dumb chances.  I’m on the side of those who bet their life savings on a bad tip and lose.  I see those who try but fail.  I feel those who love but lose.  It all crushes me, and I die, but then I am still there.  May you kill me in a new way.

Ooh Rah.

Fuck love: fuck love.

but we all know it will never die.  It lives.  It lives.  you live.  you live.  Somewhere, we were meant to go, you can start, now. . . .

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Debate topic

[Following is in invitation to debate for a specific individual].

Resolved, that the following study can as easily be read as evidence FOR psychokinesis as against it, and that far from being conclusive, it leaves many questions unanswered.  Given that it fails to honestly address these facts, it must be seen as disingenuous and intended to support a preexisting conclusion.

http://www.ebo.de/publikationen/pk_ma.pdf

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Gratitude, Part 2

I wanted to respond in a post to a comment someone made.

It seems to me there are two paths to most emotional “gestalts”, which work in tandem with one another.  One is the Cognitive Behavioral Therapy approach, in which you consciously work to change thoughts and behaviors.  You reinforce on a daily basis what you are grateful for.  You have a gratitude jar, or a daily practice, or try to remind yourself as often as possible how many things are working, how much is going right, how much you take for granted that need not be there (food, sleep, companionship, work). 

This in my view is a useful practice.  I can say with certainty that “Learned Optimism” is one of the most useful books I have read, because it taught me a habit I have retained across many years of making the difficult temporary and local, and in assessing with great care both my actual responsibility for mistakes and failures, and emphasizing the degree of control I actually have.

At the same time, I would say that within my psychological worldview, anything short of radiant happiness, spontaneous gratitude, abundant health, and the ability for the effective work that always leads to success in a reasonably just society–such as we have had for some time, and which may yet survive Obama’s patent assaults on it–is a result of a sort of knot deep within the spiritual body or psyche.  We are meant for happiness, but we tie ourselves up, we disrupt energy flows, we prevent the spontaneous emergence of order and everything that comes with it.

This is the level I am trying to work on.  I can feel, at times, huge amounts of energy flowing from me in clouds, but I can’t maintain this. I shrink back, become sullen, irritable, fearful, none of which are attractive traits.  I can and have tried to simply maintain a facade, but it doesn’t feel right for me.  I feel like I am going to get stuck in a perma-smile of the sort one sees on long term car salesmen.

My sense is that gratitude is a natural result of unveiling a deeper wisdom.  It comes naturally, unbidden.

The other day I had overindulged in drink the night before, and thankfulness came to me for my hangover, or what passes for one with me, my apparently substantial ability to process alcohol being what it is.

And it hit me that experiences all contain something interesting in them.  I would use the metaphor of someone deeply thirsty drinking dirty water.  It still tastes amazing, because you are thirsty.  Likewise, that ability to react with glee, with happiness, is still latent even in a time when you are NOT thirsty. 

Or imagine not having seen a human being for weeks.  When you finally run into someone, will you not overlook virtually all their flaws, unless they out and out try to kill you?  Was this capacity for appreciating human contact not already there?

Few thoughts.

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Evil

I felt clearly tonight that evil is an internalized acceptance of self hatred.  I felt it in myself, struggling with the constant streams conflicting within me of emotional legacy, and desire for release and new growth.  You cannot accept self hatred.  You have to ride it out.

This point is deep, I feel.  It is important.

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Gratitude

I have been feeling a lot of gratitude lately, and I have noticed that I am able to be grateful even for negative experiences.  The key is not to label them, but simply accept them as “experience of any sort”.  All sensations, all feelings, all perceptions: they move us in ways, change us in ways, make possible the liberation of joy and happiness.

In my own case, both my parents tried to kill me in their own ways.  The aftereffects of this subtle but very real energy have bothered me my whole life.  But that poison is becoming separate from me, outside of me.  It is the not seeing that is most dangerous, most hurtful.  It is the hurting and not knowing why, because if you can’t see the source of something, it is very hard to turn off the spigot.  You are shot invisibly in the dark, helpless to defend against it.

I am grateful for this poison, and for the seeing of this poison.