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I sat in my cousin's kitchen. Actually it was more like a laboratory with beakers and sepratory-funnels, flasks and condensers as well as countless, odd shaped pieces of glass; some empty, some partially full with some unknown liquid or other. In one corner he had a pile of pinkish strips of wood, Mimosa Hostilis, he called it. It was the bark of some tree I was told as I watched him use a blender to ground the tough bark into a pink powder. He then put the powder through a variety of steps, each of which he tried to explain to me but admittedly, most of it went over my head. I was down to six weeks of a doctor's six month death sentence. My life was over as far as I was concerned but my cousin was adamant that I had to have this experience before I died.
"Terry, I hate to disappoint you but I've done every drug on the planet. How life-changing can this kitchen concoction be, no offence," I said.
Terry smiled that type of smile that hinted his kitchen alchemy held more secrets then met the eye. He continued his work, continued explaining.
"This isn't a drug, he would eventually say. "Drugs just take all your personal garbage and cause you to perceive THIS world from different points of view."
"This.." he said, displaying a pile of an orange, crystalline substance on a glass baking dish, "..this is a key."
"A key to what?" I asked.
He laughed. "To astonishment. Don't get me wrong. You won't be any wiser or any smarter, any more than you would be if you were suddenly transported to Mars."
"Then what's the point?" I asked.
"What's the point of going to Mars?" he replied.
"It depends who's on board."
"What's your point, Terry?"
Let's say when you were born, all your eyes could see was light in the blue spectrum and you could only hear a radio that broadcast a single station and you're by no means alone. Everyone and everything else around you also sees everything only in the blue spectrum and they all listen to the same radio station.
That's essentially what most people are doing today. They don't want the truth.They want to confirm what they already believe.
"Truth has nothing to do with it.
And for the most part, they like it that way. It's familiar; it's comfortable, even for those whose lives seem anything but.On rare occasions, however, should they be lucky enough-as you are now-certain people are confronted with an opportunity to change the channel as it were, or view the entire rainbow, from outside of the spectrum. Your body will remain in this world; I will be able to see it. It will last about 10 minutes from my end but what you will see is another matter altogether. It won't be a dream or a hallucination either. It will be no more of less a hallucinogen then the world where you and I are talking in right now. The time you spend there will seem rather long by comparison to the 10 minutes or so that I'll be watching you. It may feel like hours or days of even longer from your end. My point is, this key opens a doorway to a new reality. And it's not the same old one we're all used to, viewed through some funhouse mirror of sorts but a REAL world, no different or real then Mars is different or real. Yet, instead of travelling into outer space, your launch pad is inside, you travel inward. And you won't be alone. There are other beings there that inhabit those places, no different than the ones here in terms of their realness. They will approach you and try to communicate with you but chances are you'll be so overcome with astonishment you won't be able to focus on what they're trying to tell you."
"Why are you doing all this, Terry?"
"Because Jack, once you see that everything you've been taught is wrong, you have an opportunity see.The sad people are the ones who think they have it all figured out. The The others realize that the rainbow is a full of colors
and the radio is overrun with countless signals they've
lost something they never needed in the first place...fear. The things they were aware of, the boundaries and beliefs they were convinced existed. They essentially see them dissintergrate, find out they've been wrong about everything the whole time. The good news is the fact that if enough people realize this fact we can throw out the old system and reframe the entire thing altogether from a different set of constructs.
"So why`pick me?" I asked
"Because every journey begins with a single step,Jack.
Every revolution,a single person. That and I guess it's just your turn. You wouldn't be here if it weren't."
Terry scraped up some of the orange crystals and put it into a test tube. The rubber stopper had two holes in it. One has a tight-fitting, glass rod going inside the test tube. The other had a short, glass rod that stuck out, allowing one to absorb into the lungs, the smoke that was generated from heating the orange crystals.
"What do they call this stuff anyway, Terry?"
"DMT," he responded after my first hit.
"What does that stand for?" I managed to get out after my second.
"Dimethyltryptamine," he said.
When I returned I was speechless.
"How is that possible?" I asked.
Terry just smiled and shook his head.
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