by J D Arthur
This was perhaps the most dramatic revelation of a secondary body I’d encountered. The perception of this alternate physical body has been a recurring motif in many of my sessions with salvia. Many times I’ve felt as if I were gradually developing, or learning the mode of perceiving, this alternate body. Strange as it would seem from an ordinary standpoint, it seems almost logical, since the normal physical body is, at this point, essentially inoperable—that to perceive and possibly to act in this alternate realm, one would need a corresponding vehicle for perception.
On another occasion, this emphasis on the new body was also predominant. From my notes, written immediately afterward:
Immediately “taken,” I began to emerge into some type of hall, not unlike a wedding reception. An older man was guiding me saying, “Come on . . . Come on . . .” as if he were somehow guiding or coaching me. People were present observing as if watching a birth. I was given to understand that I was being “born” there. I was almost “out”—people were happily anticipating my birth. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps I was dying, but didn’t feel that that was the case.
It seems as though perhaps this is what’s occurring— I’m slowly being born over there, and almost made it through this time. I’m afraid that I was still a bit hesitant to burst through completely, since there’s always anxiety about returning. The place and the people are less alien now, and their presence is always anticipated with something approaching longing. At one point while I was being born, I asked something about language to the effect of, “How can I be here and not know the language?” No one answered me, but I felt that they knew it wouldn’t be a problem.
Again, this time I felt I was going in very deeply and only hanging by a thread here. I also felt that I had total trust in my new situation.
The recurring themes of language and tactile perceptions could occasionally take remarkable turns. In one such session, the possibilities of perceptual transformation seemed to know no limits. It seemed that humanness itself was, in the end, essentially also a habitual interpretation.
Again, my notes immediately following the event might convey better the sense of immediacy, with more accuracy:
Made some sort of breakthrough tonight—very strong effect. They were aware that I was “making a bridge” to their world. They had some sort of word or phrase for what I was doing, which connoted somehow trying to explain something here, or maintain some sense of lucidity. Very many “thought states.” Would have been afraid I’d forget how to get back—could not have found my old body and mind on my own—matter of some sort of faith.
I might have been analyzing the language to some extent. I was led upward, apparently by a woman, into an “upper room” or state of language. She was showing me the secret of their language, which entailed physiological or somatic-tactile elements, rather than verbal formulations. I found myself emerging into some sort of viscous cocoon or hivelike structure, peopled by insects or some sort of insect-type beings, of which I was one. We were not unlike mantises or grasshoppers. We had some type of long thin insect legs, which we were pressing against the surrounding viscous substance that seemed sticky or stringy. This was how they were able to communicate—on an insect level. I was being shown this as a privilege. I understood completely how this could be the essence of their language and their mode of communication. The other insect beings I sensed, somehow, to be female and young. The woman (she was almost like the “den mother” of the young insects in the cocoon) who escorted me there was not particularly friendly—my recollection is that she had a human form, but this is very vague. It seemed more of an annoyance that she had to show me this scene. I didn’t sense any malevolence on her part, however.
The insect forms cleared up some strange images I’d encountered before: batlike beings crawling on bony wings and sticklike people that I would encounter toward the end of a session. This made all those images clear, as if they were a prefigurement of that mode of communication.
This particular mode of communication, as well as the physical form of my own body and those of my companions, has not been repeated, although I’m sure that this area of perception will, in the future, be revisited. To speculate on various aspects of this incident, which was among the strangest of my encounters, would be pointless. The foreign nature of these events seems to demand experiential, rather than discursive, exploration.
Many more excursions tended to be somehow connected with the process or concept of death and an apparent realm of the dead. The focus of a great number of experiences was an exploration of some aspect of this journey. Often there would be others present, perhaps in a peripheral context, who, I was given to understand, were the newly dead. As strange or improbable as this might sound, it was repeated so often, and in so many ways, that I was constrained to regard this as an emotional certainty during the course of the trance.
One such occasion was very explicit and succinct:
Smoked one bowl 5X, E. present:
I felt very secure going in, with no fear. Went through the usual multiple realms, finally surfacing. It was as if I were some type of organic protuberance on a membrane. The membrane seemed fleshy, like the inside of the mouth. “They” came to me as if they were needed in some way. They seemed to approach me by somehow sensing my sudden appearance, not unlike bees sensing a flower and approaching (this was the image that was offered). They led me to understand that they had some sort of function with the dead, as if they were escorting them. It was as though they were on the lookout for the newly dead (as from drowning and so forth) and would, on some organic level, sense them through scent. They would flock to them and apparently escort them, possibly, for the purpose of continuing a chain of human contact. It seemed as if I was seen as a false alarm.
It once again seemed like a very normal process connected with death. The continuity of these states only seems to reinforce the certainty of the reality and the normalcy of this process. Where the newly dead are escorted is still unknown.
In another trial, a British family made their appearance. I thought at first that perhaps they were sent to guide me, but had the distinct feeling that they were among the newly dead. The father (I didn’t actually see the family, but knew there was a mother and two children—a son and a daughter) seemed pleasant but somewhat confused and disoriented. This scene seemed particularly sad, due, no doubt, to the implication that the family had perished together.
Another impression that was repeatedly given me was that there were others in addition to myself who would also make their appearance here. On a few occasions, I was referred to as “one of them.” From my notes:
Nice strong effect. It seemed as though I went through some sort of membrane, not unlike coming into a clearing after wading through tall grass.
I was immediately met by presences, two young boys who could have been twins, about ten or eleven years old with short, black hair. They began to announce to someone (their mother?) that “One of them was here,” as if someone had just appeared in their midst. This seemed as if it were not a particularly rare occurrence. I had the distinct impression (from their voice—perhaps an accent?) that they were Mexican.
When they announced my presence, they described me as one of “them,” implying “those who are willing to die to be here.” At the time, I understood it to mean that dying (through hallucinogenic states) was a way of entering their world. It also implied that normal death would be the usual mode for such an entry.
This particular event serves as a good example of the type of communication that is prevalent in this state. Although there were only a few words spoken, each of these words, or perhaps more precisely the content engendered by the phrase, contained a wealth of images and meanings that were as profound as they were comprehensible.
Again, the mode of this type of communication seems similar, if not identical, to that which is so recognizable in dreams. This recurrence of words and phrases, so laden with emotional and psychological meaning, combine
d with the ravenous awareness engendered by salvia, leads to a singularly rich assimilation of conceptual images that is both distinct and instantaneous.
This perception that I was not alone in visiting this realm was reinforced several times. From my notes:
One bowl Oaxacan:
Had been awhile since I’d smoked. I was able to analyze early perceptions. There seemed to be nodes in my visual field in a symmetrical pattern, with maybe five or six points of focus. The visual field flowed, opened from them, and wrapped around them, as if they were centers of gravity. The field encircled the whole configuration, and I was “there.”
As usual, there were people there acknowledging my arrival. There seemed to be some sort of noting that I was different from them—not in a pejorative sense, but mentioned in passing, as if to say, “Here’s a guy from there, or here’s a guy that comes that way.” Some sign was made—putting hands toward the face or fingers to lips, in some fashion, to signify this. Nothing important in this, just noted it.
On another occasion, I was given the impression that there is a mutual link between both worlds that seemed to hint at some form of interdependence:
One bowl:
Young boy, perhaps eight or nine, and his little sister answered the door. The boy said something to the effect of, “They needed one, anyway,” meaning his family needed a witness, or contact, or recorder from this world, as if they also need contact here and need someone as a conduit. The feeling, maybe third time I’m getting this, is that I am also useful somehow to them.
There are a certain number of perceptions, such as those mentioned above, that make their appearance so often during the course of repeated sessions as to give the impression that they are intrinsic to the state. During many trials, after first entering the trance, I’ve witnessed a succession of innumerable scenarios detailing various events and vignettes with an eerily comforting demeanor. These visions portray remarkably ordinary occurrences that have a profound, yet disturbing, sense of familiarity. Scenes of people engaged in commonplace pursuits seem to predominate. This process seems to occur shortly after entering the deeper trance state.
There inevitably comes a point, upon entering the rush of visions, that one can’t decide if the scenes being witnessed are those that would occur in the normal range of events, with which we are familiar, or if these are actually quite alien occurrences, suddenly comprehensible due to the exhaustive alteration of awareness. Ironically, there is no benchmark against which one can compare these scenes. There is no longer any valid measure of experience. It seems impossible to retrieve one of these visions and bring it back for examination. The seemingly ordinary nature of these scenes is by no means a guarantee of their genesis from our world. The impression, in fact, is that the opposite is true; these scenarios, while exhibiting the trappings of routine, are, in fact, essentially alien.
One element that had made its appearance in a few of the previous experiences was the impression that my “hosts” were directly endeavoring to teach me or perhaps more precisely indicate those circumstances in which I might learn:
Upon entering, I felt very focused yet without thought. A voice implied that this transcendence was possible because I’d relinquished my mind, which could then be manipulated. I felt that I was totally abandoned as far as my mind went and was entirely thoughtless. I could feel how my mind was almost sectioned or diced by a kaleidoscopic dimension. There were images of people or, rather, interactions with people. An older woman began explaining that she would be responsible for my mind, or, more precisely, she would be willing to avail her services of manipulating my mind and thus my perceptions. There was no emotional content to this—it seemed more of a contractual nature. She was in a way offering her services.
On another occasion that took place about a year later, I found myself in a more direct teaching situation:
I found myself in the presence of a person who was evidently a “teacher” of sorts, but more in the nature of a “coach.” This person (black female, I believe, but not sure) was explaining that I was not alone, that there were others who also feared death and that that was normal— everyone fears death. While she was speaking, I felt that I was standing, perhaps sitting, shoulder to shoulder with other males. The impression was that they were, in effect, shamans-in-training and that we all were more or less at the same impasse, which is fear of death. The gist of the talk was that we were not alone and there was no problem—that we should feel ready, but at the same time no one is ever really ready. There seemed to be no need to hurry—merely to understand that it was a natural reaction and that we were not alone.
It felt as though this was training for learning to stay longer in the trance state.
The entire excursion was very reassuring in tone, yet somehow very exciting, since it seemed to be such a measured natural response. It was also very encouraging to be shoulder to shoulder with other pursuers.
If, indeed, there is some sort of contact between the two worlds, aside from the frequent references to the dead, it is in a form that is all but incomprehensible. My personal experience with the salviaic trance would have led me to the conclusion that the two states of awareness are, by their very nature, irreconcilable. Our normal framework for perception relies, it would seem, wholeheartedly on the foundation of thought. It defines our entire life, our perception of our physical body, and our environment; it, in effect, creates and sustains the solidity of our world.
The salviaic state, on the other hand, appears to consist of a mode of thoughtless awareness—a fluid, immediate, direct perception of forces and realms of interaction that have no reference from our normal standpoint. Even the habitual mode of perceiving from what one might refer to as a human vantage point is no longer sacrosanct.
Paradoxically, however, there does seem to be some type of communication between these two, apparently diametrically opposite modalities. Although in the deepest states of the trance, the overwhelming immersion in the state seems to admit no compromise, yet there do seem to be occasions of admixture between the two states during the course of the varying stages of the trance.
During my succeeding salvia sessions, something quite unusual began to occur. On several occasions I was given seemingly direct indications for behavior in the ordinary world. These indications were specifically concerned with my manner of approaching salvia. Up until this time, with rare exceptions, I had smoked salvia alone, in a small workshop near my house. I was well aware that many caution against such behavior, since people, under salvia’s influence, have been known to move around, possibly injuring themselves. They generally advise using a “sitter” to be present during the salvia excursion, to protect and reassure the participant in the event of any untoward circumstances.
In my personal situation, I’d always felt that it was unnecessary. I never felt the need to move from my chair and felt that another person would be a distraction, inhibiting my spontaneous approach to smoking. I regarded salvia as a solitary pursuit. My “advisors,” however, began to indicate that I should indeed have someone present, not for my physical safety, as such, but as a way of guarding my body. The implication was that at some point I would have to leave my body. I felt that this would entail losing consciousness, and someone should be there to aid in bringing me back, if needed.
After smoking about ten minutes previously:
My second excursion was incredible. I was already feeling a strong afterglow from the first experience, when I began the second round of smoking. Everything seemed already accessible, and I knew exactly where to go and what to do. It was almost as if I rode the afterglow behind my eyes, back to its source. It seemed to expedite and clarify the experience. I went in very deeply and strongly and was able to surrender myself to a very great degree. I seemed to be floating in a black or starry sky. The feeling of the presences was paramount.
There was an older woman, not unlike other personages I’ve encountered before. She seemed very similar to the woman who once told me
I was accepted. She was doing something to my floating body, and seemed to be wrapping it, again, not unlike a cocoon, but using some sheetlike material. She told me in a matter-of-fact tone that if she was going to teach me she would need more time, and that I would have to stay longer, period. This had some implication of language, as if she would instruct me through teaching me their language. The sense I got from her statement was that I was on the verge of letting go to an even greater extent and that this might allow them to take me for a longer period. The implication was that I should make arrangements, over here, for that occurrence. It was as if she were advising me to have someone here watching my body, in effect, so that I’d feel free to stay for an extended period. Without this extended stay, nothing would be possible.
As I emerged from the salvia, I felt as though I’d had a profound connection and invitation. I also saw, for the first time, how this might be possible. Perhaps the salvia and attendant presences could usher one into a trance that would extend beyond the duration of the salviaic trance. If this were the case, anything would be possible.
Although it seemed as though I should have someone present during my sessions, I felt that it might inhibit me on some level. I thought that I could still investigate the salviaic state to a great extent, as I had been. I felt that I had to mentally prepare myself before these excursions and that someone else’s presence would negate the solitary nature of my preparation. It also seemed that it might just be an anomaly to have such an indication, that if I continued alone everything would still be safe; after all, even if I were to lose consciousness for a few moments, it wouldn’t necessarily be life threatening.