Psychedelic Salon

Just discovered a great site for audio from some of the greats (Alan Watts, Terence McKenna, etc.).
http://www.matrixmasters.net/salon/
Enjoy!

Thanks Terry!

I’m listening once again to Terence McKenna’s “The Search for the Original Tree of Knowledge” audio dialogs and continue to revel in his timeless genius.

Meeting the Buddha on the Road

I teach one thing–how to end suffering.

The Buddha

IMHO, Buddhism is the most misunderstood of the world's major religions–not only by those outside looking in, but by its followers as well (bad enough I've got the Christians coming for me with pitchforks and torches, now the Buddhists will be joining them). This is because what I see in Buddhism is NOT (and never was intended to be) a religion. The problem is that Siddhārtha Gautama (i.e., the Buddha) was so far ahead of his time (5^th century B.C.E.) that there was no other paradigm for his teachings. What he actually taught was what today we would call cognitive psychology. Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I submit for your consideration the first two verses of the Dhammapada–the Buddha's first teaching:
Mind precedes its objects. They are mind-governed and mind-made. To speak or act with a defiled mind is to draw pain after oneself, like a cart behind the feet of the ox drawing it.
Mind precedes its objects. They are mind-governed and mind-made. To speak or act with a peaceful mind, is to draw happiness after oneself, like an inseparable shadow.
If this is not cognitive psychology, then butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Cognitive psychology and Buddhism are founded upon the same principle: Our thoughts–which include our perceptions, interpretations, judgments, beliefs, etc.–are the source of, and means to ending our suffering. Put another way, we do not see the world as it is–we see the world as we are.
In fact, the Buddha's lack of any traditionally "religious" content has led some Buddhist scholars, such as Stephen Batchelor, to conclude the Buddha was agnostic–if not atheist–in his religious views. This is, I believe, one of the reasons Buddhism spread so quickly throughout Asia. Without any of the typical religious trappings to get in the way, when Buddhism entered a new country, it simply incorporated its own established religious beliefs into Buddhism (much like early Christians co-opted Pagan holidays to make it easier to gain converts). This is why, for example, Tibetan Buddhism is very different from Japanese Buddhism. In fact, without the iconography of the Buddha–one would probably not recognize these as the same religions.
Another example of this is the widespread belief that Buddhists believe in reincarnation. Many do, but not because of anything the Buddha taught. When studying the origins of a religion, one of the difficulties faced is to separate what is an essential religious teaching from things that are simply artifacts of the time and culture from which it came. In the Indian subcontinent during the 5^th century B.C.E. people did not just believe in reincarnation–it was considered a fact, just like the sky is blue and water is wet. Not only did no one question it, no one would even think to question it. So of course when this new teacher came along and didn't specifically say anything one way or the other about it, reincarnation was just absorbed into the Buddha's teachings. Since reincarnation was seen as a form of suffering and the Buddha was teaching a way to end suffering, it just made sense that the goal of Nirvana was to be freed from the cycle of birth and rebirth.
One would never suspect that within the Buddha's teachings is the concept that we do not have a soul or spirit that exists independently of the mind. The only Buddhists who directly confront this are Ch'an (Chinese) or Zen (Japanese) Buddhists–which were heavily influenced by Taoist philosophy when Buddhism came to China. Ch'an and Zen Buddhism has a distinctly existential–almost nihilistic–focus.
So what then is the core of the Buddha's teaching? First, the Four Noble Truths:

1.    The truth of the existence of suffering;

2.    The truth of the cause of suffering;

3.    The truth that suffering can be eliminated; and

4.    The truth of how to eliminate suffering (the Noble Eightfold Path).

The first of these is pretty much a no-brainer–at times, life sucks. The surprise comes in the second truth–we (specifically our minds) are the cause of life sucking. The actual word the Buddha used for this is dukkha, which is usually translated as "unsatisfactoriness." Simply put, we find life unsatisfactory because it often doesn't meet our expectations. "What is" is not the way we think it "should" be, so we blame what is for not meeting our expectations–never stopping to realize (until the Buddha came along) that it's our expectations that are the true cause of our suffering. Aaron Beck, Albert Ellis, or David Burns (three prominent cognitive psychologists) couldn't have said it better.
The third truth follows from the second–if we know the cause of suffering, we can eliminate it (or at least greatly reduce it). OK, so how do we do this? Enter the fourth truth–the Noble Eightfold Path.
The Noble Eightfold Path is divided into three aspects: Wisdom (1, 2), Ethical Conduct (3, 4, 5), and Concentration (6, 7, 8). Specifically, the Eightfold path consists of:

1.    Right Understanding;

2.    Right Thought;

3.    Right Speech;

4.    Right Action;

5.    Right Livelihood;

6.    Right Effort;

7.    Right Mindfulness; and

8.    Right Concentration.

Now keep in mind that during the past 2,500 years whole forests have been sacrificed to written discourses on the Noble Eightfold Path. I'll just be flying high overhead to give a broad picture of the landscape. You can parachute down and hack through the brush on your own.
Right Understanding is pretty simple–it basically refers back to the Four Noble Truths. This is the "right understanding" of suffering. The Greek stoic philosopher, Epictetus, echoed the Buddha's concept of suffering in the 1^st century C.E. when he said "Men are not upset by things, but by the views they take of them." Right Understanding also includes the law of karma–that every action produces a result (what goes around, comes around).
In the language of cognitive psychology, Right Thought means to identify and challenge one's cognitive distortions and irrational beliefs about themselves, other people, and the world around them.
The first of the three dealing with Ethical Conduct is Right Speech. The specifics of which are basically to be truthful and to not engage in divisive or abusive speech. Pretty straightforward.
Right Action is basically doing nothing that brings suffering to others. I like to think of it as the Buddhist version of the "Golden Rule"–treat others as you would have them treat you.
Right Livelihood takes right action into how one makes a living. Again, the idea is that you do not engage in an occupation that brings suffering to others (Republicans need not apply. Opps! That's not right speech. Shame on me!).
The last three have to do specifically with the practices of meditation. Right Effort primarily has to do with mental discipline. Not only in keeping the first five steps on the path always in mind, but also to provide the discipline for the remaining two steps.
Mindfulness is a specific Buddhist meditation technique, the goal of which is to bring mindful awareness to everything we do. Right Mindfulness is specifically referring to this last aspect.
Finally, we get to Right Concentration, which is actually the practice of meditation itself. Within the Buddhist tradition there are many specific meditation techniques, but all require focused attention and concentration.
There it is–Buddhism in a nutshell. As I said, one could spend many lifetimes (if you buy into the whole reincarnation thing) studying the details of all this, but this is what I consider the essence of what the Buddha taught. Once I was able to peel away all the superfluous B.S. that had little, if anything, to do with the core teaching–I found a genuine affection for Buddhism. But, I still would file it under "Psychology," rather than "Religion."

The Tao that can be told

The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.

The name that can be named is not the eternal name.

The nameless is the beginning of heaven and Earth.

The named is the mother of the ten thousand things.

Ever desireless, one can see the mystery.

Ever desiring, one sees the manifestations.

These two spring from the same source but differ in name;

This appears as darkness.

Darkness within darkness.

The gate to all mystery.

Lao Tzu

Tao Te Ching

So begins the first chapter in the Tao Te Ching–the foundational text of Taoism. Taoism has existed as a philosophical system in China since about the 6^th century B.C.E. When I began my spiritual quest in earnest, Taoism was the first tradition that resonated with me. It’s difficult to encapsulate Taoism in just a few words. A fact made even harder due to their being at least 3 major divisions and an untold number of minor sects. However, my interest has solely been in Taoism as a philosophical system.

Perhaps the first thing that attracted me to Taoist teaching was that is essentially non-theistic (i.e., without a belief in a Deity). Instead, Taoism refers to the Tao–a word that is usually translated as “path” or “way.” The Tao is viewed as a cosmic force or energy that underlies all existence. As such, it is the source of the natural laws by which the entire Universe operates. The actions (the manifestations) of the Tao are best understood through studying the natural world. An analogy would be the wind. Think of the wind as the Tao, which cannot be seen (the mystery). We are only aware of the wind by its actions (the manifestations) within the physical universe (i.e., trees bending, leaves blowing, etc.). That which is not in harmony with the Tao will eventually cease to exist. Therefore, a follower of the Tao attempts to live his or her life in harmony with this cosmic force. This is also the philosophy behind the Taoist moving meditation and martial art, T’ai Chi. The practice is designed to help one harmonize with the Universe.

One of the essential aspects of the Tao’s manifestation in the Universe is constant change. The most recognized icon for Taoism is the T’ai Chi (usually referred to as the “yin/yang”). This circle divided into light and dark symbolizes the constant interaction of two complimentary elements–yin and yang–which are the source of everything (the ten thousand things).

That which engenders Creation is itself uncreated; that which engenders Change is itself unchanging. The Uncreated is able to create; the Unchanging is able to effect change. That which is produced cannot but continue producing; that which is evolved cannot but continue evolving. Hence there is constant production and constant evolution. The law of constant production and of constant evolution at no time ceases to operate.

Lieh Tzu

I like Taoism’s reverence for the natural world and the idea of trying to live in harmony with it. A good example of this can be seen in traditional Chinese landscape paintings. In these landscapes, people (or the evidence of people such as buildings, etc.) are virtually invisible–hidden among the majesty of the natural world. Most Taoists saw society as a corrupting influence on the individual and would often live as hermits in the forests or mountains. Thoreau–though not a Taoist in name–certainly lived in accord with many Taoist principles.

Taoists were–for the most part–very rational and scientific. They studied nature to understand the underlying principles at work. In so doing, Taoists by-in-large founded the principles of traditional Chinese medicine. They tended to see the “big picture” and knew that anything–even if left alone–would eventually change. It seems they viewed the Universe as a wondrous mystery just waiting to be explored.

A word of caution: If you decide you would like to do some study of Taoism, be aware that there is a magical-shamanic folk religion that uses the name Taoist and has little–if any–connection to Taoist philosophy. This is typically called “Religious” or “Popular” Taoism.

 

Mysticism, Spirituality, and Organized Religion

Some of you may have wondered about my use of the term Mystic along with Counselor and Educator under the vision of my benevolent countenance. A mystic is a person who practices mysticism.

Mysticism (from the Greek, mystikos) is the pursuit of communion with, or conscious awareness of divinity, spiritual truth, or God through direct experience. Mysticism usually centers on a practice or practices intended to nurture such experiences or awareness.

I consider myself to be a mystic in that–following the Buddha’s advice–I accept as truth only that which I can verify from my own experience. When it comes to spirituality or religion this means I do not believe anything unless I have direct experience of it, which–by definition–means mysticism.

Mystics and organized religion have an ongoing love–hate relationship. Religious traditions need mystics for their origins (Where would Christianity be without Christ, or Buddhism without Buddha?), but mystics are very disruptive to the status quo once a religion is established around them. If you’ve got a means of having direct experience of the divine, who needs an ecclesiastical hierarchy as an intermediary? We can’t have ordinary people running around communing directly with God as this doesn’t bode well for church attendance and–perhaps more importantly–the Sunday collection plate.

In order to guard against this threat to their spiritual monopoly, religious organizations do one of three things:

1)    They segregate those with any mystical inclinations away from the masses by relegating them to monasteries, convents, etc. while also making admission to these groups unattractive with requirements such as vows of poverty, celibacy, etc.

2)    They claim that mystics are “special” people (Saints, etc.) favored by God that we should worship and revere, but not try to emulate.

3)    They attack mystics as being heretics who blaspheme the true doctrine and therefore must be excommunicated, banished, punished, or killed (sometimes all of the above).

I think this is one of the reasons–perhaps THE reason–established religions and even new age spiritual “gurus” (sorry Alan) shun the use of entheogenic substances by their followers, as they make the mystic experience far too democratic. It’s much easier to allow for a spiritual democracy when everyone in the tribe is wearing a loincloth and living in a hut with a dirt floor. Democracy of any kind makes those in power very nervous.

The problem is that once the spiritual experience becomes a religion, it ceases to be about individual spirituality and instead becomes centered around idolatry. Even though many religions–particularly the Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam)–pay lip service to idolatry as a sin, the reality is quite different. They get by with this on a technicality–idolatry by definition is worship of a physical object as God. Since people are not considered physical objects, it’s OK to worship Christ, Mohammed, Buddha, etc. and not call it idolatry. Of course idolatry is always what the “other” religions do, not one’s own.

As an example, shortly after 9/11, I overheard two people discussing Islam. Because one of Islam’s most well-known icons is the crescent moon, one was telling the other than followers of Islam “worship the moon as their god.” I’m presuming this person was sharing this as evidence that Islam practiced idolatry and was, therefore, an inferior religion. I wonder if this person would apply the same “logic” to Christians by saying they worship a “wooden cross as their god” and that this too is idolatry. It can be a slippery slope from religious iconography to religious idolatry, and the difference is often  only a matter of perception.

A footnote: To anyone who doesn’t already know, Jews, Christians, and Moslems all worship the SAME God–the God of Abraham. A fact that would make the conflict among them laughable if not for its deadly consequences.

My own definition of idolatry is more–dare I say it–liberal in that I view any form of worship that puts the messenger before the message as idolatry. Not that there is anything inherently wrong with reverence for the messenger, unless in the process the message gets lost or marginalized.

And there is nothing “wrong” per se with religious worship. In Hinduism–the world’s oldest living religion–there are four paths to union with Brahaman (Universal Soul). These are each referred to as a form of yoga (interesting coincidence, the etymological meaning of the word yoga and religion are virtually identical). These are:

Bhakti Yoga–the path of love, devotion, and worship,

Karma Yoga–the path of right action and good works,

Raja Yoga–the path of meditation, and

Jñana Yoga–the path of wisdom.

Hinduism does not see any one of these paths as better than any of the others. They are simply ways toward the same end. Different paths are suited to different people and one may choose any as their primary path. Also, this does not mean that a particular path is chosen to the exclusion of others. I believe anyone with a genuine spiritual inclination will engage in aspects of all these at various times.

It is not surprising that most Hindus–indeed most people of ALL religious faiths–choose Bhakti–the path of love, devotion, and worship–as their primary path along with a little or a lot of Karma–good works–thrown in as well. These paths are the least difficult for the everyday person who has to manage daily responsibilities such as work, family, etc. You go about your business with love in your heart, devotion to your faith, and do such good works toward your fellow man as you are able. Nothing wrong with that. In fact the world would be a much better place if more people did this.

Others (such as yours truly) are more attracted to the paths of meditation and/or wisdom. Usually, because of the amount of time these paths require, they are more accessible to people with both the time as well as inclination to devote to them–clergy, religious scholars, monks, spiritual gadflies with access to a computer and internet connection, etc.

An Apple Tree, not a Buick

The observant reader will note the rather curious web address for this blog and may have wondered, WTF? Well your patience shall now be rewarded. Before I continue, I must express my appreciation for Alan Watts, who provided the nucleus for this idea. In fact, I have probably done little more than to expand upon his ideas and frame them within the context of natural pantheism.

An apple tree, not a Buick refers to my own way of explaining natural pantheism. The word “pantheism” comes from ancient Greek pan meaning “all” and theos meaning “God.” The basic idea of pantheism is that there is no entity that exists outside of and apart from creation. Pantheism is therefore nondualistic in that it does not view “God” or divinity as separate from us (I and the Father are One. –John 10:30). God is a part of everything, not apart from everything.

“Natural” pantheism views existence like an apple tree–it grows. Growth is the natural process of existence expressing itself. The tree already exists within the apple seed. It is self-creating. This is a natural rather than supernatural process.

In contrast, many religions view existence like a Buick. A Buick doesn’t grow–it’s manufactured. Something outside of it must create it. This is dualistic–creator and the creation are separate entities. Without the creator, there is no creation. Therefore, the creation is and always will be subservient to the creator.

Natural pantheism leads to what I call the “Big Namaste.” Namaste is a Sanskrit word that is a common greeting in India and Nepal. It is said while placing the hands together in a “prayer” position in front of the heart and bowing from the waist. It means “the One Spirit in me acknowledges and bows to the One Spirit in you.” Not bad for just one word! Its origin is from the Hindu concept that we are all an expression of the Divine. Pantheism takes this a step further in that we are not only an expression of the Divine, we are all part of it. In fact, EVERYTHING is a part of the Divine.

Once, just before sunset, I was walking alone in a meadow at Tipsoo Lake on Chinook Pass. Walking across the meadow towards me was a lone bull elk. The elk and I stopped when we were about 50 feet apart and looked directly at each other. I brought my hands together in front of my heart, bowed slightly from the waist, and whispered “Namaste.” Immediately afterward the elk and I continued our walk across the meadow, passing about 20 feet from each other. This is an example of “Big Namaste.” Whether it is another person, an animal, or a grain of sand–it’s all God.

Namaste!

Spiritual Eclecticism

Most of my prior posts were about how I got to be who I am. My future posts will be more about who I am and who I am becoming.

One of the spiritual realities that I have learned in my wanderings is that no one tradition has a monopoly on truth and that by remaining open-minded I am able discover truth wherever it may be. I cannot with any degree of honesty pin myself down to any of the established spiritual or religious categories. Although I love dogs, I can’t stand dogmas. So let me begin to answer two seemingly simple questions, “What is my religion” and “Do I believe in God?”

I suppose my best answer to the first question would be to just say I’m a “Spiritual Eclectic,” meaning that I draw upon many religious/spiritual/philosophical traditions, but ally myself with none. If I had to put my beliefs in one sentence, the best I can come up with at the moment would be: I’m equal parts Taoist, Buddhist, Natural Pantheist, and Existentialist bound together with a liberal dose* of Amazonian shamanism. Maybe you can understand why I don’t normally like to get into casual exchanges with people about religion. If someone REALLY wants to know “what I am” the answer’s going to take awhile.

The second question is problematic on two levels. First, it is framed as a “yes” or “no” question. Second, it presupposes that there is a universal definition of “God” that both the person asking and the person answering agree upon. I’m not just being a smart ass (well, maybe a little) when I give my usual response: “First you have to tell me what you mean by God.” This usually ends the conversation (try it if you don’t believe me), but if it doesn’t–this answer’s going to take awhile as well. But you’ll have to wait for my next post.

*Yes, that pun was intended.

Now what?

For every answer, there's a whole new set of questions. Now I'm facing some big ones. I just had a profoundly spiritual transformation that was facilitated by drinking an Amazonian shamanic brew that contains a schedule one controlled substance. And to complicate matters just a bit more–I'm a substance abuse counselor. This is why the word "dilemma" was invented. Oh well, often answers to the most profound spiritual and existential questions involve transcending apparent contradictions.

This was a spiritual crossroad in my life. Was I going to be true to myself, or to everyone else's ideas of who I "should" be? Choose one, and I risk not only possible alienation by my family and friends, but potential loss of my career. Choose the other, and I continue allowing my spirit to die a little more each day. If the consequences affected just me, the answer would be easier. But I have to think about Christina as well. How might my decision impact her?

Right in the middle of all this–the Universe decides to manifest this quandary within my physical body. August 2002. It was a Monday and I was getting ready to go to work. For about a week I'd been experiencing physical symptoms that seemed like heartburn. They would only last for about 20 minutes. Once, the "heartburn" was accompanied by some slight nausea and I seemed to have a little trouble breathing. Monday morning I had the "heartburn" again, along with numbness and tingling in my left arm (I think you see where this is going). Christina insisted I call the Group Health Consulting Nurse before going to work. I promised her I would. The nurse told me to go to immediately to St Joseph Hospital ER. About two hours later I was having emergency angioplasty to relieve a 100% blockage in one of my coronary arteries. For at least a week I was having small heart attacks. I could have dropped dead anytime and probably would have if I'd gone to work that Monday.

My heart problem was probably due to the extra 40+ pounds I was packing around, but I believe that living out of synch with what I believed to be true didn't help. I decided that I'd wasted enough of my life trying to live up to everyone else's expectations. Whatever it took and whatever the consequences–I was going to find a way to start living with more authenticity and integrity. This blog is the latest installment in that ongoing experiment.

A major challenge was going to involve the perceived contradiction between my profession–a substance abuse counseling specialist–and the latest accompaniment on my spiritual voyage–DMT in the form of an ayahuasca analog. The "problem" was not one that I struggled with–to me there was no contradiction between the two. It was more a problem of society's perceptions, misunderstandings, and prejudices. There's also the legal conundrum it presents (more on that in another post).

It really comes down to an issue that is often brought up by many of my clients–especially those who smoke pot. They often want to take the focus off their own issues with marijuana by arguing that is should be legal. My response–the legality or illegality of a drug has little, if anything, to do with whether or not a person develops a significant problem with that drug, and it definitely has nothing to do with recovery from such problems. Alcohol and tobacco–two legal drugs–are directly and indirectly responsible for far more deaths and social problems than all other drugs combined. In the U.S. only about 8% of people who consume alcohol develop alcoholism during their lifetime. The other 92% enjoy alcohol throughout their life without problems. Substance abuse counseling is about helping people who have major life problems due to the misuse of alcohol or other psychoactive drugs. It's not about enforcing societal prohibitions on people who are not causing problems for themselves or others (that's what law enforcement does).

If I use a psychoactive substance in a responsible manner as part of my spiritual practice and it presents no potential harm to others, what exactly is the problem? How does this have anything to do with my helping people who DO have substance use problems? What if it helps me to be a more effective counselor, or helps me to be a better person and member of society?

I rest my case (for now).

The Spirit Molecule

The first time I drank [Santo Daime], I found everything I was looking for. I died and was reborn–the man who drank the Daime never returned; the one who came back was a new man.

–Alex Plolari De Alverga

Forest of Visions

Time for a little break to discuss this new element in my spiritual journey–dimethyltryptamine, or DMT. In physics, the Higgs boson particle is a theoretical particle that gives other particles their mass. It has been dubbed the "God particle" by the media because it could be the source of all matter in the Universe. Likewise, DMT has been called the "Spirit molecule" because it may be the biochemical source of the human spirit or soul.

Let's take a closer look at this mysterious chemical.

So what is dimethyltryptamine? It is both one of the world's most powerful "psychedelic" substances and one of its most ubiquitous–being found in dozens of plants throughout the world. Oh, and one more thing–it's also naturally produced in the human brain. DMT first appears in the brain on the 49^th day of fetal development and, for most of our lives, quietly resides in the pineal gland–an endocrine gland about the size of a grain of rice that sits atop our brain stem. DMT's role in the brain is not fully understood, but the most common theory is that it may have some role in sleep and dreaming. It may, however, have a much more profound role.

University of New Mexico psychopharmacology researcher, Dr. Rick Strassman, did a 5-year research study on DMT involving 60 volunteers. The results of his study are documented in the book and film, DMT: The Spirit Molecule. One of the things participants in Dr. Strassman's study consistently described were experiences virtually identical to those reported by people who have had near death experiences. After receiving an intravenous dose of DMT, participants described being surrounded by a white light and feeling as if they were being lifted up. They would also encounter visions of dead friends and relatives that seemed to be telepathically speaking to them. For many people who have had them, near death experiences are spiritually transforming. They no longer fear death and find their lives significantly more meaningful. It has long been suspected that near death experience phenomenon result from a powerful neurochemical reaction. Dr. Strassman's studies would suggest DMT is a very likely candidate for being this mystery chemical.

Now here's where some interesting coincidences begin. Throughout history, the pineal gland has been associated with human spirituality. Rene Descartes called the pineal the "seat of the soul" and believed it to be the connection between mind and body. The pineal also has a long history of being thought to be the physical location of the "third eye" found in many spiritual traditions. Generally, the "third eye" is believed to be the point of connection between individual and universal consciousness. It has been associated with enlightenment, visions, clairvoyance, and out-of-body experiences.

"Spirit molecule?" "Seat of the soul?" Could it be that DMT's natural function in the human brain is that of a biochemical catalyst linking mind and body with spirit? This contradicts all those spiritual teachers who claim the use of psychoactive substances was not a legitimate spiritual tool. In fact, it appears that many people are regularly using DMT-containing elixirs such as ayahuasca to enhance their spiritual lives.

DMT was around during the Sixties, but was not as widely used as other substances such as LSD, Psilocybin, etc. primarily because of its lack of oral activity. In order to experience the effects of DMT it had to be smoked. When smoked, DMT produces a very intense, but brief effect. The experience is reportedly SO intense that a person is pretty much rendered non-functional because of profound visual effects. It became known as the "businessman's trip" because of its short duration (10-15 minutes) as opposed to the 8-12 hours of other psychedelics (although I doubt there were very many–if any–"businessmen" who ever used it). Its traditional use in South America involves the use of a monoamine oxidase inhibitor to make it orally active. This produces a longer lasting (8-12 hours), but less intense experience.

For most of its history, ayahuasca was known only to indigenous people living deep in the Amazonian rainforest. This changed dramatically in the 1990s with renewed interest in so-called entheogens. In Brazil, two Christian–based churches that use ayahuasca as a sacrament–Santo Daime and União do Vegetal–became so popular the Brazilian government was forced to modify its drug laws to allow for the religious use of ayahuasca. Members of Santo Daime and União do Vegetal frequently give testimonials about how the use of ayahuasca has transformed their lives in positive ways. These are not drugged-out stoners, these are ordinary people who go to church on Sunday. They just happen to have found that using ayahuasca during their religious services helps them deepen their spiritual faith.

These churches have spread not only to other South American countries, but also to Europe and the United States. In 2006, the U.S. Supreme Court unanimously upheld a New Mexico State Supreme Court ruling allowing the religious use of ayahuasca by a União do Vegetal church in the United States. Chief Justice John Roberts (yes, THAT John Roberts) wrote the opinion! The basic argument was that the government could not show a "compelling interest" for not allowing the ayahuasca use, other than the fact that it contained an illegal substance. The Courts ruled that this alone was not sufficient.

But if DMT is a schedule one controlled substance, doesn't that mean it's REALLY dangerous? Well, keep in mind, that marijuana is also a schedule one substance. Both cocaine and morphine are listed as schedule two. Using the schedule of controlled substances categories as a gauge of dangerousness, this would mean cocaine and morphine are less dangerous than marijuana. How can this be? Well it's because the controlled substances act–like most drug laws–is highly politicized. Alcohol and tobacco aren't even on the list and they kill more people than all other drugs combined. Any drug can be dangerous–even deadly–if misused. There is scant evidence that DMT itself has any significant negative effects on human functioning. In fact, when used properly, it seems to have beneficial effects. That DOES NOT mean it's safe for anyone and everyone to use.

Substances like DMT–the so-called "psychedelics" or "hallucinogens"–do have very real and potentially fatal consequences if used improperly. Usually this has nothing to do with the substance itself, but the fact that the person ingesting the substance doesn't know what they're getting into and is not using it in an environment that contributes to a spiritual encounter. In traditional societies, such as those of the Amazon rainforest, these substances are not used to "party" or "get high." They are viewed as sacred and used as a spiritual or religious sacrament–not unlike wine is used in Christian communion. Using a substance such as ayahuasca for spiritual purposes has as much in common with substance abuse as using wine to symbolically drink the blood of Christ has with pounding Jaeger bombs. What people who have used these substances understand is that when a person has been properly prepared and uses the substance in a proper setting, they may act as a means of enhancing spiritual knowledge.

DISCLAIMER: THE FOLLOWING IS MY OPINION BASED UPON MY OWN PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. ALTHOUGH I BELIEVE ADULTS HAVE THE RIGHT TO INFORMED CHOICE WHEN IT COMES TO USING A SUBSTANCE SUCH AS AYAHUASCA FOR BONA FIDE SPIRITUAL OR RELIGIOUS PURPOSES, I AM NOT ADVOCATING OR RECOMMENDING SUCH USE.

In my experience, DMT–when taken orally in the form of ayahuasca or an analog–has allowed for a much fuller and deeper understanding of the spiritual knowledge I have been studying over the past 38 years. Since my spiritual studies have primarily been in Taoism, Buddhism, and Natural Pantheism the insights I have gained took the form of concepts within these traditions. I believe that had my studies been in other spiritual traditions, my understandings would have taken a form within those traditions. In essence, it is my opinion that DMT did not impart any specific spiritual knowledge, but rather assisted me in gaining greater awareness, understanding, and appreciation for that which I already knew.

Notes

Entheogen: en–within, theo–god, gen–to create. To create god within. A name given to plant-based psychoactive substances used by traditional societies as religious sacrament.

Santo Daime means Holy Daime, "daime" being the church's name for their ayahuasca sacrament.

União do Vegetal means Union of the Vegetal, "vegetal" being the church's name for their ayahuasca sacrament.

Forest of Visions: Ayahuasca, Amazonian Spirituality, and the Santo Daime Tradition by Alex Polari De Alverga is an excellent introduction the spiritual use of ayahuasca.

Existential Despair and Shamanic Rebirth

So what was happening in my spiritual journey during this time? I had continued my ongoing studies of Taoism and I had finally been able to separate the actual teachings of the Buddha from the religion that sprouted up after his passing. I had become interested in natural pantheism because–like so many spiritual concepts I have encountered in my life–it was something that gave me a cognitive framework for ideas I already held. Nothing radically new, just ongoing fleshing out of my spiritual belief system.

I had, however, continued to feel a growing existential emptiness and despair within my life. Depression seemed to be getting the better of me in spite of several changes in medication. There were weeks on end when hardly a day went by without the thought of suicide haunting me like a dark spectre. Perhaps it was the ongoing curse of the Silver medalist–who knows? All I know is that something was missing.

About this time, I began studying entheogens–natural plant-based psychoactive substances used for millennia as a catalyst for facilitating spiritual experiences. I had been listening to a lecture series by the late Terence McKenna called The Search for the Original Tree of Knowledge. Terence was a leading spokesman for what had been called the "Archaic Revival"–a reexamination of psychoactive substances and spiritual states of consciousness that began in the late 1990s and has continued to the present day.

Perhaps the most discussed of these substances was dimethyltryptamine or DMT–the primary psychoactive substance in a brew used by indigenous people of the Amazon rainforest called Ayahuasca. People were (and still are) paying thousands of dollars to go on Ayahuasca journeys to South America to experience it first-hand. Ayahuasca is a brew containing at least two substances. This first is Banisteriopsis caapi–a woody vine that grows throughout the Amazonian basin. This is mixed with a number of DMT-containing plants such as Psychotria viridis or Diplopterys cabrerana.
Interestingly, it is the B. caapi that is referred to as the ayahuasca vine even though it is the other plants which contain the DMT. DMT is not orally active–it is destroyed in the gut by an enzyme, monoamine oxidase. The B. caapi contains an alkaloid that temporarily inhibits the action of monoamine oxidase allowing the DMT to enter the bloodstream and thereby the brain.

In 2001 I had the opportunity to participate in an ayahuasca experience with a Bolivian shaman who was coming to the Olympia area in June. He would be facilitating traditional ceremonies with ayahuasca. Along with a dozen others, I signed up to take the "vine of the soul" and see what all the fuss was about.

Whatever you may have eaten or drank during your life, I can assure you it does not come close to the taste of ayahuasca. It is without doubt the most vile thing I have ever consumed–excessively bitter from the concentrated tannins within the plants. One of the notorious aspects of the ayahuasca experience is known as "la purga" or "the purge." Think Exorcist-style projectile vomiting that comes on about 20-30 minutes after drinking the brew. The good news is that it's over relatively quickly and usually doesn't return (although some were dealing with it throughout the night).

Following the purge, I laid down to recover–vowing never to do this again. Then, it was like a light switch had been flipped. The world was instantly transformed. Everything took on a surreal glow, even though it was a moonless night. The world seemed wondrously alive. But the most amazing part by far was the expansion of my mind and consciousness. It was like church, college, and psychotherapy all rolled up into one–only better. All of my spiritual studies of the past 30 years coalesced into a unified whole. Every existential question was answered. All of the personal insecurities that had haunted me since preadolescence instantly vanished. THIS was some powerful spirit medicine.

I couldn't really tell how long the whole thing lasted. The ceremony began at sunset. It was over at sunrise. From the moments following the purge and throughout the night, I had been thrust in to a spiritual rapture unlike any I had ever dreamed possible. As the sun rose above the horizon, I felt physically drained. The evening had been filled with dancing and chanting around the fire–nothing forced or artificial, just natural expressions of the ecstasy within. It was that good kind of "tired" feeling, like after a workout. Even though I was no longer in the same all-consuming state, I felt very relaxed and peaceful. I remained in a type of spiritual afterglow for the rest of the day. Even though I had already been up for over 24 hours, I didn't feel like sleeping. I was content to just savor every breath of my experience. I had been transformed. Nothing would ever be the same again.

My melancholy friend

I recently heard about a study of Olympic medal winners that found Silver medalists generally feel worse about their Olympic performance than Bronze medalists. The hypothesis is that Bronze medalists feel grateful to have made it to the medal stand, while Silver medalists on the other hand are disappointed because they fell short of the Gold. I seem to be a person destined to be a Silver medalist–particularly when it comes to my career. I get close enough to see the Gold, but it's just a few inches out of my reach. Then, it's gone. Once again, not quite good enough.
After two years, Pierce College decided to reorganize their Alcohol/Drug Studies and Social Service/Mental Health program into two programs with separate coordinators. A year earlier, Dr. St. Dennis had decided to resign and return to the Pharmacy school at WSU. I, of course, applied for the A/D Studies coordinator position. Who else would they give it to? After all, I'd been doing the job for the past two years. The college was nice enough to give me an interview, but I realized early on they had already made a decision and it wasn't going to be me. It was nice that several students wrote letters to the college administration asking that they keep me on, but the ship had already sailed and all I could do was stand on the dock and watch it disappear into the sunset.
Within 3 months I became a citizen of Prozac nation and the dark angel of depression would be my dance partner for the next 20 years.
Fortunately, one of my responsibilities prior to losing my job at the college was to make out the class schedule for the following Fall quarter. At the time I was expecting to still be a full-time instructor, so I had given myself a full schedule of classes. The only difference was I would be a part-time instructor with a full-time schedule. At least I could take some time finding another job.
In a strange coincidence, the first two job interviews I got were on the same day–one in the morning, the other in the afternoon. The first was for a position as volunteer coordinator and trainer for a non-profit agency providing services to people with physical and mental disabilities. The second was as director of counseling at a private, for-profit rehab hospital. Following my interviews, I had two job offers that I was going to "sleep on."
At the time, my biggest concern having recently married was taking care of Christina and myself financially. Non-profits can't compete with for-profits when it comes to salary. I could take the position with the non-profit that would have been a cut in pay from what I was making at the college, or with the for-profit that paid more than I had ever made in my life. I was about to sell my soul, but at least I wasn't selling it cheap.
With my new job, we were able to move out of our apartment and buy a house. We were financially secure, but I was miserable. Allow me to get up on my "socialist" soapbox for a moment. I do not think healthcare should be a for-profit business. Rather, it should be like fire and police services–something we all get for the public good. Eventually the United States will join the rest of the industrialized world and provide healthcare to all its citizens regardless of their ability to pay, but not before trying anything and everything short of it. Once we can no longer deny that for-profit healthcare doesn't work (except for insurance, pharmaceutical, and giant healthcare corporations–as well as the politicians they pay off to allow this to continue), we as a society will finally do the right thing. I hope I get to see that day.
OK, back to the story. If you choose a profession to help alleviate suffering, working for a business which profits by that suffering . . . Well, you do the math. I couldn't take enough anti-depressants to distract myself from feeling my soul slowly being sucked out of body. After 4 years, I couldn't do it any more (it was getting hard to shave without being able to look at myself in the mirror). I resigned and went back to the non-profit world.
During this time, I was able to stay somewhat sane by continuing to teach classes. Bellevue Community College hired me part-time for some classes, and I was also able to start a substance abuse counselor education program at Highline Community College.
I changed jobs again a couple years later moving from a community mental health center to an outpatient substance abuse facility. They were applying for a very large federal grant to conduct a two-year demonstration project to see if offering more drug-involved felons treatment options instead of jail reduced recidivism. I was chosen to be the clinical supervisor for the project. It was a pretty big deal. I got to fly to the East coast along with several executives of the facility. I had lunch with a Congressman and met the Drug Czar.
We got the grant and set-up the program. Everything seemed to be going OK until I started to realize things weren't what they seemed. I began to notice that the county prosecutor's office and the facility I was working for–once they received the grant money–weren't very strict about following the provisions of the grant. Also, although I was suppose to have supervisory authority over the daily operation of the program, the facility's executives were constantly undermining my authority. It soon became clear to me that my job was to shut up and do as I was told, rather than try to run the program according to the conditions of the grant. I wasn't again going to be a part of something that required me to put my values on hold. I resigned before I could sink any further.
By leaving that position, I was able to be where I am today and where I've been for the past 10 years. It also marked the beginning of the greatest spiritual struggle of my life.

Pinch me, I must be dreaming

Shortly after starting work at St. Peter Hospital, I received another unexpected gift. As a 32-year-old male it never entered my mind that a 20-year-old female would give me a second thought. After all, I'd had problems getting any female to give me even a first thought most of my life. So imagine my surprise when the 20-year-old who had been cutting my hair for over a year one day asked me out on a date! Was this one of those acid flashbacks I'd heard about, or was someone playing a joke on me? OK, I'll play along. If she is serious, I'm sure 5 minutes into the date she'll see the error of her ways, admit this was a horrible mistake, and suggest I start getting my hair cut elsewhere.
Well, Christina's still cutting my hair today. Two years after that first date, we were married. This December (2010) will be our 26^th anniversary. She doesn't like when I say this, but it's true: I don't know what she sees in me, but I hope she never stops seeing it.
A little more than a year before Christina and I were married, I got what–at the time–was my dream job. Pierce College needed an assistant coordinator and full-time instructor for its Alcohol–Drug and Social Services–Mental Health programs. I had applied for the position thinking my chances of getting it were about the same as having monkeys fly out my butt (thanks Mike Meyers). A couple weeks later, I was having breakfast with Dr. Clarke St. Dennis the Coordinator of the program. After breakfast, I asked him how soon I would know if I had the job. He said if I didn't have the job, we wouldn't have had breakfast.
Teaching has always been what I like, no, LOVE doing. Whenever I'm teaching, it's hard to remember that I'm "working" and someone is actually paying me to do it. Even as a counselor, I've always taken a cognitive–educational approach in working with clients. Now I get to do it for a living full-time. Plus, I'm about to marry one of the most beautiful (inside and outside) people I've ever met. In a life of peaks and valleys–I had arrived at Mount Everest.
For two years I lived a life that–not so many years earlier–was unimaginable. For the first time in my life, I had found a job I could see staying with until I retired and was married to someone I was ready to spend the rest of my life with. What could possibly go wrong?

Time to Get Schooled

In 1982 Boeing was going through one of its periodic rounds of layoffs. Eventually my name got to the top of the list and I was unemployed. Not a problem. I had a few years left on my G.I. bill that I could use to finish college. This is just the Universe telling me it was time to move on. Since high school I’d often thought about working in human services and, after my rehab/recovery experience, I knew some things about overcoming addiction.

I enrolled as a full-time student at Fort Steilacoom Community College (now called Pierce College) in their Alcohol/Drug Studies program. I had found a minimum wage job cleaning hot tubs and that, along with my VA checks, kept my head above water. I really liked college–especially the psychology classes. I also started getting into some kind of physical shape by running. Eventually I was up to 5 miles a day.

A few weeks before graduation, one of my classmates said they were hiring at the Tacoma Detoxification Center. Well, I had to start somewhere in my new career. A county detox job is about as bad as it gets in the rehab business. You’re pretty much dealing with street alcoholics–the real skid road types. The moment you enter the building, your nose is assaulted by a combination of alcohol, vomit, urine, and gym locker. There are people sleeping on mats in the hallways because there aren’t enough beds (especially if it’s a cold night). Most of the time they’re pretty mellow, but every so often one of them thinks he’s a tough guy and takes a swing at you. Fortunately, they’re so intoxicated they can’t figure out which of the two of you they’re seeing to hit. I usually worked the overnight shift on the weekends, or as I called it–Prime Time.

I had already applied and was accepted for transfer to The Evergreen State College in Olympia to complete the two remaining years of my bachelor’s degree. A couple weeks before I was going to pack-up and move to Olympia, one of my co-workers at detox said someone he knew had called him about a job at an outpatient substance abuse treatment facility in–you guessed it–Olympia. Would I be interested? By the time I moved to Olympia, I had a half-time job as a counselor intern. Since it was outpatient, all the treatment was done in the evening. I went to college full-time during the day and worked half-time at night. This was my life for the next two years.

For those of you unfamiliar with Evergreen, they don’t have individual classes like most other colleges. They do what are called “integrated” or “coordinated” studies. Instead of taking several separate classes, you take a year-long program that integrates classes around a central core. My first year I was in a program called “Human Health and Behavior.” We were a mix of psychology and pre-med students. Half the day we were in core classes as a group, then in the afternoon the psych and pre-med students went to separate seminars to focus on their specific disciplines.

My senior year I was in a “Group Contract” class called “Psychological Counseling.” Only 16 students were selected for the group. I managed to make the cut primarily because I was already working half-time as a counselor. 16 students and one incredible instructor–Dr. Richard Jones. Dick was one of the founding faculty members of Evergreen and had been instrumental in shaping its unique learning environment. He was an elder statesman at Evergreen and this was going to be his last year of full-time teaching. A few years later, he would lose himself to Alzheimer’s and pass on.

June 1986 I became the first of my family to graduate from college. Fortunately, my maternal grandfather (the only one of my grandparents still alive) was there to see it. Later that month, I passed my test to become a Chemical Dependency Professional. Two months later I was hired as one of the staff that would open a new blended inpatient-outpatient substance abuse treatment program at St. Peter Hospital in Olympia. I didn’t think things could get any better. Then they did.

The Lost Years

One of the many things I’ve learned with age is that there are lots of peaks and valleys during one’s life. When I left San Diego, I had reached a significant peak. Little did I know I was headed for a very deep valley.

I didn’t know what I thought I would do once I returned to Washington. Things seemed to be going OK at first. I had managed to line-up some venues for teaching t’ai chi, but since this wasn’t enough to make a living, I needed to have a “real” job.

In the Navy, I’d learned how to type. That was my one marketable skill. After a relatively short time back in my home town, I knew I couldn’t go back to living there. I felt I didn’t belonged there anymore. I had changed–the town hadn’t. So I started looking for work and a place to live in Seattle. I got a job at the UW as a receptionist for the Health Sciences Department at University Hospital. Cool, I was working in the U-district! I found a little cottage to rent in West Seattle right across from Lincoln Park and the ferry terminal to Vashon Island. Another score! Seemed things were falling right into place.

Life took another good turn 6 months later when I got a job at Boeing. For someone with no real skills, a high school diploma, and one year of college they were offering what–at the time–was more money that I could imagine. Like most newbies at Boeing, I moved around a lot. It seemed like every 6 months or so I was moved to a new location with a new job and new shift. Teaching t’ai chi classes was no longer possible with all the Boeing moves, so I ended them after less than a year.

Working at Boeing was stressful. Because of all the moves, I was always the new guy and just about when I figured out how to do my job, I’d get moved to a new one. Alcohol became my very close companion. I started living for the weekends–going out to bars and taverns. I was over 21, alcohol was legal, and I was able to drink a lot of it. Problem was, more often than not, I couldn’t remember what happened when I woke-up (more like “came to”) the next morning. I later learned these are called “blackouts” and an early warning sign of impending alcoholism.

Since I liked drinking, but kept having blackouts, I came up with what–at the time–seemed a perfect solution. Cocaine was at the height of its popularity during this time (late seventies). It gave me lots of energy and kept me awake. It seemed to counteract the alcohol. Unfortunately, like coffee on steroids, cocaine doesn’t sober anyone up–it just leaves you wide-awake AND drunk. Worse yet, cocaine has a very short half-life. This means it wears off quickly–more quickly than alcohol. So the cocaine keeps you up and you drink even more because you don’t notice the effects of the alcohol because the cocaine is temporarily masking them. The cocaine runs out, the bar closes. Time to drive home. Halfway home the cocaine wears off and the full wave of alcohol hits the brain. Nighty night!

Do this long enough and, if you’re lucky, you end up in a jail cell charged with DUI. Guess what, coming out of a blackout and finding you’re in jail REALLY sucks. It also gets your attention. A few weeks later and I’m off to rehab to avoid having a DUI on my record. 26 years old and fresh out of rehab. I think this safely qualifies as a “valley” and a pretty deep one to boot. Three weeks in rehab gave me plenty of time to think. How did I get here? When did it all go so wrong? What’s next?

Well, the good news is that there’s only one direction to go when you hit bottom. Fortunately Boeing has an employee assistance program, so by telling them I had a problem and getting help they didn’t fire me. I still had a job.

I tried going out a few times after rehab. No drinking, but it was also no fun–in fact–just the opposite. Socially and emotionally I was back in Junior High when it came to dating. In my mind I was rejected before I ever even asked someone out, so why bother? It was so much easier when I had a few drinks and some lines (not the “do you come here often” kind–the coke kind). Misery and disappointment seemed to stretch out as far as I could see. Well, if that’s the case I’ve got nothing to lose. Maybe it was time for another reinvention.

Sometime between kindergarten and first grade, I developed a pretty serious stutter. It stayed with me through most of Junior High until I found something that not only got me over it, but took me to the opposite end of the spectrum. By the time I graduated, I received my high school’s drama award after acting in every school play since my sophomore year. The answer was simple–if I could be someone other than me, then I would be OK.

About this time, punk rock/new wave was taking over the music scene. A subgroup of this was the rockabilly revival (remember the Stray Cats?). My stage was set. Shy self-conscious me became a rockabilly rebel. DA haircut, white sportcoat with fake leopard skin lapels, sideburns, shades–I was a real cool daddy-O! After seeing me jitterbug to the boppin’ beat, girls we’re asking ME to dance! I had learned how to have fun with being chemically altered. All I had to do, was not be me. But, I was starting to crawl out of the valley.

California Dreamin’

After a year in Virginia Beach, I was transferred to San Diego, CA. This came at the perfect time as I now had a direction for my spiritual quest and was heading to the center of the new age spiritual universe–California. I was assigned to the administrative staff of the Rear Admiral in charge of all surface forces in the Pacific Fleet (basically everything except submarines and aircraft). I was stationed at the Naval Amphibious Base at Coronado–home of Navy Seals basic training.

San Diego was paradise for someone who spent his first 18 years of life in rainy, gloomy Western Washington. Nearly perfect weather every day. It rained in San Diego about as often as it snowed in the lowlands of Western Washington. The other 360 days it was sunny and in the 70s during the “Winter” and in the 80’s during the Summer. Next door to a warm Pacific Ocean that you could actually swim in and only a few hours drive away from the San Bernadino Mountains and miles of desert that included Joshua Tree and the Coachella Valley.

I began reading every book I could find on Buddhism and Taoism (and there were a lot of them). I also began taking yoga classes along with practicing Transcendental Meditation (something I picked-up in Virginia Beach). In my readings, it seemed that the general consensus was that spiritual experiences via psychoactive substances were not the “real” thing–they could be a catalyst for beginning a spiritual journey, but they needed to be supplanted by more traditional practices if one wanted a permanent transformation. As Houston Smith–the great scholar of world religions–said, “Having a spiritual experience is easy, living a spiritual life as a result of that experience is what’s hard.”

During this time, the one writer primarily responsible for my initial understanding of Buddhism and Taoism was a popular interpreter of Eastern philosophy–Alan Watts. I liked Watts because, like me, he was a mostly self-taught religious scholar with a strong affinity for Eastern philosophy. Born in England, he served as an Episcopal priest for 5 years before moving to the United States in 1951 to accept a teaching position at the American Academy of Asian Studies in San Francisco. During his lifetime he also had a teaching fellowship at Harvard and was a frequent speaker at the Esalen Institute in Big Sur, California. Watts had a way of taking the most complex philosophical concepts and making them easily understandable, which was a big part of his popularity.

Alan Watts was close friends with a fellow British expatriate–Aldous Huxley. Like Huxley, Watts experimented with Mescaline, Psilocybin, and LSD in America. But unlike Huxley, Watts came to reject these substances as valid tools for a spiritual seeker. Ironic, because Watts died at age 58 due to heart failure exacerbated by his lifelong alcoholism.

Armed with a foundation of key concepts in Eastern philosophy thanks to Watts, I was able to gain a better understanding of source texts in Buddhism and Taoism. I found myself particularly drawn to Taoism. I think this was because I had not yet learned to separate the teachings of the Buddha from the religion that sprouted up around them. Later on, I would discover that the quickest way to destroy a spiritual teaching is to make it an organized religion.

Taoism led me to t’ai chi–the ancient Chinese slow-motion martial art based upon Taoist philosophy. Since learning Transcendental Meditation, I had experienced ongoing difficulties with seated meditation. For one, no matter what position I tried to sit in after about 5 minutes my lower back hijacked my attention leaving little left for meditation. Also, I seemed to have hit a wall with seated mediation and wasn’t getting much from it.

T’ai chi was often described as a “moving” form of meditation. I was ready to give it a try. All I needed to do was find a teacher. One Saturday I was strolling through Balboa Park, when I saw a group of about 10 people doing–you guessed it–t’ai chi. They were led my an elder Chinese man who simply went by “Mr. Leong.” All I needed to do to join the class was show-up on Saturdays and give Mr. Leong $5 when class was over. Sounded simple enough. I studied with Mr. Leong for about a year, learning Wu style empty hand and short staff t’ai chi forms.

The more I practiced t’ai chi, the more I wanted to learn–not only of t’ai chi, but of its sister arts. This has been a recurring theme in my life–if I decide to get into something, I jump in with both feet and don’t look back. I realized that continuing with Mr. Leong was no longer enough for me.

About this time, I met an interesting fellow from Oklahoma. He professed to not only teach t’ai chi, but many other Chinese martial arts. His name–Mike Brown. Mike had been into martial arts for quite some time before meeting a petroleum geologist from Taiwan, Her Yu Wong. Dr. Wong had studied Chinese martial arts since he was a boy in Taiwan. Since moving to the U.S. he continued his practice, but never took on any students thinking no one in this country would be interested. Mike was interested and soon became Dr. Wong’s first student.

Eventually, Mike Brown and Dr. Wong had started the Ching Yi Kung Fu Association to share Dr. Wong’s knowledge with others. In so doing, they set minimum standards for what anyone wanting to teach these arts needed to be considered proficient. So, if I wanted to teach t’ai chi as an instructor certified by the Ching Yi Kung Fu Association, I had to learn all the Ching Yi martial arts. This way, even if all I ever taught was t’ai chi, I would have a well-rounded background and understanding of the tradition from which t’ai chi emerged.

This was just what I was looking for. Now I could get a more comprehensive training in these disciplines from both the Taoist and Buddhist heritage. Through t’ai chi I had found a physical discipline that combined gentle exercise with meditative focus. Since I found the Taoist philosophical teachings so compelling, I wanted to see how the physical practices born of this philosophy could further my spiritual development.

After being discharged from the Navy, I stayed another two years in San Diego. During this time my life consisted of eating, working (just enough to pay expenses), sleeping, and practicing kung fu. I was learning everything I could from Mike and, eventually, helping him teach as an informal assistant instructor. At the time, I thought I would never return to Washington except to visit. San Diego was my new home. But shortly after passing my test to become a certified Ching Yi Kung Fu instructor, I decided it was time to head back North. My four plus years in the Golden State had come to an end. I loaded everything I owned into a VW Super Beetle and began driving North on I-5. The moment I crossed the border into Washington, it started snowing (this was in April). I should have seen that as an omen and turned around. I didn’t.

Leaving Home

Have you ever done something without really knowing why, only to find out later it was probably the best thing you could have done at the time? Before even graduating from high school, I had enlisted to enter the U.S. Navy following my graduation. At the time, I wasn't completely sure why I did it–but, in hindsight, it was probably the best choice I could have made at the time. Many of my friends were shocked. I'm sure if there had been a "Least Likely to Enter the Military" vote by my classmates, I would have finished at least in the top ten.
I could have gone to college like most of my friends, and was even accepted at The Evergreen State College. But some part of me knew going from high school straight into college would have ultimately been a waste of time (a very fun waste of time, but a waste of time nevertheless). I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and needed some time to "find myself." Having grown up in a small town where everybody not only knew me, but knew my parents and grandparents as well–I wanted to get as far away as I could. Somewhere where no one knew me and I could become whoever I wanted to be. Since I didn't have any money, I decided my best option was to spend a few years working for my Uncle Sam.
A couple weeks after my 18^th birthday, I left for boot camp in Orlando, Florida. I couldn't have gotten farther away from Washington and still remained in the continental U.S. Eight weeks in boot camp, a short visit home for Christmas, then back to Orlando for 12 weeks of Navy Personnelman school. After graduating, I went to my first duty station–Virginia Beach, VA–working in the Educational Services Office of a Naval Aircraft Squadron.
While stationed in Virginia Beach, I spent nearly every night in the base library studying the world's major religions. I had decided that I was going to see if any of them contained anything that made sense to me. I ended up focusing my attention on Buddhism and Taoism.
I liked Buddhism because it is a non-theistic religion. Although many Buddhist followers revere the Buddha in a god-like manner, the Buddha himself denied any divinity. Whenever he was asked if he was a god, he said "No, I am awake." This, in fact, is what the term "Buddha" means–awakened one. The focus of Buddhism is on the mind as the source of all existence. In his first discourse, the Buddha said "The mind is the forerunner of all things." For anyone who has delved into the world of substances such as LSD, this makes perfect sense.
Taoism, on the other hand, revered the natural world and viewed the divine as being expressed throughout the rhythms of nature. Although some try to equate the Tao with "god," there is little similarity with what most people conceive of as god. God in the Judeao-Christian tradition–as well as most other theistic traditions–is a supernatural being that exists outside of the natural world. The Tao on the other hand is a natural force that is both the source and substance of all existence. Out of it all things arise, while simultaneously it is a part of all things.
From that point on, Buddhism and Taoism became the primary focus of my study as I began in earnest my spiritual self-education. Where else to go, but California?