With a broken-down oven, in a hotel kitchen, on an uninhabited island
Subscribe and Save up to 45%
An individual who experiences regular moments of expanded consciousness also regularly experiences the unhappiness and difficulty of returning to consensus reality. In the moments following his flight from material centeredness, returning may seem like a betrayal of having experienced a somewhat less limited perspective. One may feel compelled to come to terms with the disquieting limitations of his own humanity. Life in physical reality may not appear to be worth living, or, if it seems worth living, it may not appear to be worth taking seriously.
One is confronted with the dismal probability of coming down as often as one chooses to return to this reality from the perspective of having experienced another. The more often one takes refuge in the liberation of various altered states of consciousness the more often one must decide to what extent, if any, he will permit himself to return to the restrictive imperfection of a bodily prison. This decision is the essence of coming down and its attendant depressiveness. It is a wonder that more consciousness travellers do not commit a spiritual act of physical suicide.
Solitude considers death as an alternative.
The body on a jagged spear
Would not feel its weariness.
Seriousness slams coffin edges down,
And lowers me into the grave.