A few years ago I was sitting in a friend’s dome sipping a cup of ayahuasca. There were five of us: Josh, Pablo, Erin, myself, and our “shamanic” guide, a young French woman whose name I forget. Everybody was excited to drink the drug and become enlightened by its effects. A relaxing music droned in the background.
It should come as no surprise that I’ve spent a lifetime using (if not abusing) various illicit substances. My generation inherited the bunky Mexican shake, worn plastic bags of pills and mysteriously colored blotter acid of our slightly older cousins in the late 60’s. They had already “experimented” and let us kids know it was “safe.” “Here ya go. First one’s free.” I’ve dropped acid in remote North Carolina cabins, done heroin in Tennessee flop houses, snorted coke with guys who looked like they had at least one body in the trunk and smoked pot with anyone who would accept the joint I’m passing them. And through all this I’ve yet to become “enlightened” by any drug. Drugs are a way to pass time and (in the case of marijuana) a cure for depression—nothing more, nothing less. I also recognize that I’m not as susceptible to addiction as many less lucky individuals. What many call addiction I call enthusiasm. Thankfully, I can take it or leave it.
Back to the ayahuasca.
Along with my resistance to addiction I seem to have a good degree of scar tissue surrounding my enlightenment glands. As everybody in the dome was dutifully zoning out on the gong vibe and tea I was getting twitchy and not very high. Our shamanic guide asked how everyone was doing? I asked for another cup. She glared at me and shook her head. There seems to be a trend amongst good looking, very young, self-assured men and women to become “life coaches” or psychedelic prescribing spiritual guides. I’m sorry, but when a 23 year old tells me “You are too closed off. Open up to the experience.” I have a tendency to bristle. I tend to find so-called “shamans” about as reliable as a Catholic priest on bath night.
So as the others had a great time on the aya I had to take a shit. I opened my eyes and looked around the room. Everybody’s head was back and their eyes were closed. Just to fuck with them I silently removed my boots and stealthily crept out of the dome. I hoped that, when they came back to earth, they would think I just dematerialized, leaving nothing but footwear. I drove home and spent the rest of the night on the toilet. I never did get high….or enlightened. I did feel like I was ready for a colonoscopy.
Fast forward to present day.
The other night a local, Tal Beery, came over for Thirsty Thursdays. Somehow the conversation turned to shamanism. Turns out Tal’s father is a bona fide shaman. Who knew? An Israeli, Tal’s father picked up his chops in Central America and now travels around preforming various ceremonies for money. He told me of one instance (I don’t think involving his dad) where a shaman beat a “patient” on the back with a guinea pig until the cute little rodent was dead. “The goiter that had plagued the person magically disappeared.” I don’t want to disparage anybody’s profession, but hey how about the guinea pig?
Magico-religious traditions go way back in non-white culture. The priest/medicine person has had a valuable position in many indigenous tribes throughout the world since the stone age. Western counter-culture periodically rediscovers these traditions and appropriates them, tinging drug use with a heavy dose of mysticism. Along with this devotion, hucksters can thrive and ply their trade. You’ll never convince me that beating somebody with a furry animal will cure disease. Like “faith healing” there is a long standing tradition of slight of hand, chicken gizzards and pig’s blood being involved in these so-called cures. Everybody loves a shaman, but to me they are just another version of a priest, minister or guru, taking advantage of peoples’ need to believe, be enlightened or transcend the mundane. Call me cynical, but I ain’t buying the hype. Maybe I’m just too closed off. That said, I can’t wait to meet Tal’s dad and do some more aya.
No comments:
Post a Comment