By Daniel Pinchbeck
A surprising paintings of non-public travelogue and cultural feedback that levels from the primitive to the postmodern in a quest for the promise and that means of the psychedelic experience.
While psychedelics of every kind are demonized in the US this present day, the visionary compounds present in vegetation are the religious sacraments of tribal cultures around the globe. From the iboga of the Bwiti in Gabon, to the Mazatecs of Mexico, those crops are sacred simply because they wake up the brain to different degrees of awareness--to a holographic imaginative and prescient of the universe.
Breaking Open the Head is a passionate, multilayered, and occasionally rashly own inquiry into this deep department. On one point, Daniel Pinchbeck tells the tale of the encounters among the fashionable attention of the West and those sacramental components, together with such thinkers as Allen Ginsberg, Antonin Artaud, Walter Benjamin, and Terence McKenna, and a brand new underground of present-day ethnobotanists, chemists, psychonauts, and philosophers. it's also a scrupulous recording of the author's wide-ranging research with those outlaw compounds, together with a thirty-hour tribal initiation in West Africa; an all-night come across with the grasp shamans of the South American rain woodland; and a document from a psychedelic utopia within the Black Rock barren region that's the Burning guy Festival.
Breaking Open the Head is courageous participatory journalism at its most sensible, a shiny account of psychic and highbrow reviews that opened doorways within the wall of Western rationalism and accomplished Daniel Pinchbeck's own transformation from a jaded big apple journalist to shamanic start up and thankful citizen of the cosmos.
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Such gall! " "Guinness is full of poop, too. And now—" "Will you," asked a black TV man, "tell us your official height, sir? Since you are now denying—" "I am well over five feet tall, well over, Benton. " "But, Mr. Vice President, we can also plainly see your built-up shoes. " "Are you going to deny, sir, that Fame magazine did just exactly that? " "Ah, but that was lying down. The fool girl they sent to interview me, pushy dame who wrote I Blew The President, insisted on having what she characterized as an intimate interview.
What an unusual setting I find myself in," mumbled the studio owner. Conger hurried to the window of the high tree hut, climbed out onto a thick branch. Finding a sturdy vine, he took hold of it. He went swinging, invisibly, away through the jungle. HELLO, LEMURIA, HELLO 53 Chapter 15 Conger jabbed out the number again, waited. " He turned away from the pixphone. " "What? " The stained glass windows of the motel suite rattled and buzzed in sympathy with the enormously loud blasts of religious music coming from outside.
Breaking Open the Head: A Psychedelic Journey into the Heart of Contemporary Shamanism by Daniel Pinchbeck