Search Results for: pals simply

R.S. ReReads examine your favorite media: counter-culture classics, science fiction, films, T.V. and video games in search of gnostic insights and portals to the Otherworld hidden in the plain site of pop. This month we take on Philip K. Dick's VALIS.
Erik Davis joins the VALIS reread to talk about "High Weirdness," Philip K. Dick, writing in 'Chapel Perilous' and hallucinatory fiction.
Countless clues suggest that the human brain may function as an imperfect receiver of some transhuman signal.
The Secoya elders, plant masters from the Upper Napo Region of the Ecuadorian Amazon Rainforest, will be present at Guaria de Osa Ecolodge, gathering in Council and offering teachings this Winter (Dec 2012 - Jan 2013) to facilitate boundless healing, personal transformation and renewal.
Savants show us that it is possible to access transpersonal aspects of consciousness that are currently denied in conventional science. Are the occasional strobe-like bursts of insight, creativity, and epiphany that some people experience reminders of what we are capable of?
The Third Mind project, developed by Brion Gysin and William Burroughs, was aimed at the radical opening of consciousness -- not only cutting up the Word, but pursuing the Tibetan practise of CHÖD -- the extreme cutting up of self, identity and "true memory," and the immolation of "immutable" belief systems.
If a leader declares war as the only recourse, they cannot lead, for they do not hold life sacred within their hearts. If a leader promotes the rapacious profiteering of a very few at the expense of the many, they cannot lead, for they have been corrupted by the rot of power-lust and aggrandizement.
In the words of Dennis McKenna, Peter Gorman has "been way, way beyond the chrysanthemum on many a dark jungle night." Gorman's long awaited book Ayahuasca in My Blood: 25 Years of Medicine Dreaming tells the story of his long, deep relationship with ayahuasca. This book review, and an interview with the author, sets up camp to explore the edges of an astonishing journey.
What happened on the playa that Monday night? There you are, in a fireman's coat, hurling through the wee hours across a parched and dusty lakebed in a 1979 American LaFrance fire truck. Above you the rare shadow of the earth has morphed the full moon into a dusky half-burnt clementine that hangs there pendulous like some wandering orb on the cover of a 70s SF paperback. "Baby's on Fire" is spewing out of the iPod, and Fripp's incandescent solo mixes with Burning Man's surrounding soundscape of engines, explosions, house beats, and the rising cries of gesticulating passersby who have-wait a sec-just realized that the iconic 40-foot-tall trademark that centers their entire week of organized revelry is prematurely aflame.

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