Julian Palmer : Transceptual Formations : January 2002
I grew up in North East Victoria, and spent my Christmas there with my Grandmother. Before new year, my Grandmother and I drove up to Mt Buffalo to obtain the most pure source and consistently known source of of DMT from wattles in Australia: Acacia Phlebophylla.
The tree’s were very encouraging, and the communications were much more open and free than those I have had with the other acacia species. This species only grows on Mt Buffalo, and develops perfectly positioned smooth cup like leaves with red tips.
I was initially wary about taking too many leaves because it is an endangered species, but the trees said, you are doing our “work” elsewhere when you use our leaves. There were a lot more trees on the mountain than I expected. And I discovered two trees, almost dead with fresh leaves on the end, giving me 4 kilograms of leaves, which I gratefully took.
[note: this act of mine has been very controversial within the Australian Ethnobotany Community. However, by taking these phyllodes I have allowed the right people to understand the worth and value of this tree and inspire much interest in how we can possibly save it from the fungus’s and boarers which have already killed off most of the older trees]
I made the brew that night and as I went to sleep, I had visions of the trees radiance and communication.
I then took the jar to a festival in Deniliquin, N.S.W, called Confest, a grass roots kind of festival that has been occurring in Australia for years.
I arrived at 11pm and camped down and drank 300mls of the liquid, estimating a very large dose. Within half an hour, I emerged into realms of post-technological/nuclear artistry of a kind I had experienced several times before.
It was almost impossible for me to make sense of anything I was being shown, the beings there were VERY fluid and defined…and there were too many dimensions in any one aspect (which morphed and transformed continually) for me to understand in any conventional way. And they tried to dumb it down, and transformed the information into human terms – the cross between a key, a guitar, a super computer and hands…all exquisitely beautiful. The absolute solidity and radiant color of these beings, does not have any equivalent on earth. Soon however, I was gently relegated to the spaces of their “children” and their toys, which I STILL didn’t understand! I then “came down” and stayed down…I had taken too much…
Confest was basically as I thought it would be, aspects of Melbourne’s fringes swept into dust and drums and peaceful awareness…it had been done before and it was being done.
I gave three talks while I was there, about DMT, The One Game/Fulfilment of humanities evolution and the usage of psychedelics as entheogens, which were received well. I mentioned to people present on my talk on DMT, I had this brew, and to come to me to talk about how we can use this material together. Several did in fact, and I made a tentative time for us to do it, 9pm Near Years day.
On New Years day, at 1am, while on MDMA, I discovered the area we would drink the brew: A large fire circle, with much open space around it, yet completely exposed. I spent half an hour consecrating the site, walking around in spirals to the center of the circle, then out again, then zigzagging and encircling and coming back and crossing through, representing the different ways we move out and come back to center of our intelligence. All the while I stated the intention and meaning behind what we were to do and how we can proceed with this task – developing the frameworks and understandings of our essential intelligence and original operation in coherence with each other.
I conceived of myself as the conductor. I know what is written on your ticket and I know where the bus can go. I don’t drive the bus, but facilitate the space of its movement and experience.
And again, I am the conductor, I know the whole score, I know what each of you are to play, my movements are your reference to the essential desired movement or outcome.
All of this was stated as if there was an audience present, and I felt its impact as I cleared this space and aligned with the forces to be worked with.
The next day, I give my talk on The One Game, which is actually a misnomer, as there is no One Game, hence there is everything to talk about! After the talk, I handed out pharmaceutical MAO inhibitors to four people who previously stated they wanted to take the brew.
There was a couple called Andrew and Sally. Andrew, (he had been known as Tree as well) had been in the army for 5 years, and was a very definite presence of consistent alchemical munitions of truth! Sally wore sparkly green fatigue pants and a black jewelled flack jacket, and somewhat reminded me of a friendly witch from the 18th century(!)
Both were acting as DMT evangelists at the festival. And had been giving the experiences to people at confest for whom it was TIME. This was to be their first time to have taken DMT orally, and they had both wanted to do it for quite some time.
Jason and Helen were the other couple; they looked like seasoned travellers, with packs and appropriate clothing for all weather.
Jason was a young American man from Wisconsin, and looked classically Apple Pie in his exterior, with blond hair and high cheek bones, with a very defined and almost crystalline softness…like wool. Andrew recommended he read the Myth of Jason and the Golden Fleece!
Helen was a young English woman with a very pronounced upper middle CLARSE, accent. Gently open and inquisitive. Something undeveloped and yet powerful about her…and childlike, carrying something essential – mother/daughter England both. She had a master’s degree in Chemistry and was working in IT recruitment in Melbourne.
At 6pm that night, I met Ponder, who I had known in Byron earlier in the year, and we had spent some time then, PONDERING, poeming, considering – conciling around – working with DMT, both oral and smoked.
Ponder looks very bright, with a brown hair and ponytail, peaceful, inquisitive like a horse, with many stars exposed to him. He is incongruously hippy sometimes! Yet, he would never be at home in a science lab or in high tech IT company.
And at 8.50pm, Ponder was the first to arrive in the circle, a huge open space, with sand and ashes of many previous fires in the center. I measured his dose, about 200mls, compared to 300mls I had taken the first time.
Jason and Helen soon arrived, then with Sally and Andrew, with Mark. Mark was a big stocky, very bright looking young man, with a stud in his chin, and he looked like he’d crossed through many metal travails. His eyes told he was ready, saying very little, humble, bright, open and expectant.
We all sat down in the sand. All of us, a bit unsure, perhaps wondering if this was the right place, so open and seemingly inhospitable, for such expansive potential openings. And this conglomeration of people seemed so…unexpected!
And I measured the doses with a pendulum of my black matrix like ammunitions bag, pouring the greenish liquid into their water bottles. 130ml for Andrew. 150ml for Sally. 120ml for Helen. 140ml for Jason. 180ml for Mark. and what was left for me, about 160ml. Perfect. More than 80mg of DMT for each person. Drinking the liquid is not too bad; it is very strong and pungent, with such history and grained greenery to take down.
Ponder immediately and silently moved away from us, sitting down cross legged, just inside the circle. Helen and Jason, after quickly drinking their brew, say thankyou, and then depart to the bush, and I wish them luck, and know it is right.
Almost immediately Sally and Andrew are exclaiming the wildness and bliss, of this unified deliverance into swirling transceptions. Each follow on to each other and complement the understanding, building, founding, what it is, how it is, what we are with it. And then we are all nauseous. Mark is silent. I throw up into the center and Andrew seemed catalysed by this and does as well…and immediately it comes onto me.
This developing matrix births and finds its foothold in this world, enlivening and vibrating us. I lie down curled up and wait for its smoothness and evenness.
Andrew and Sally ricochet away…and leave the circle, Andrew saying, “I love you for your truth Julian”. And there is this sense of desolation almost, that we have come apart, each into separate directions and couples away, expectations of intentions are already gone. And I fall into the brilliant forms of realities messages: visions.
The detail is immense, animated holograms of meaning. And I understand the codes, finally, truly understanding the codes, prior to language – the codes, almost cheesy in their stark revelation, cartoonish and mirthful in their knowledge.
And I am reading them, seeing them, and begin to inform them – you are our prison.
This prison is made of codes. In the visions, they are falling like leaves, like films wound snaring us in their wasteland of predetermined reading and writing…
And I know I have taken the true codes into me – leaves from the trees of life. And I feel this world, what has become a prison, draped and dropped into the misaligned joke of someONE…generating codes, where are they from? Who is controlling who?
There are so many details…and my being is revulsed, reading away back to my being and my providences…how can one combat THIS? It is always present. Codes. Signs. Everything in this world based upon these forms of control. They mock me in their power. The separation between the Word and Life.
And I wonder about my life…it’s hard to stay, so often…all the time. The pain of the codes domination, then tears at my DNA, ripping and shredding my center…and integrity…flagrant thorns of mutated and jumbled soup insects of alphas and omegas and phi’s and B’s and T’s…the attack of this information that is Information for Information’s sake, to prevent the truth of our living information in this living system, not a library, to read or to refer to, but to create and write free of words and codes.
And I realise directly again the birth of this, yes, the essential thought of being, itself, requiring no language, no codes, just being!
I am considering personally…telepathically…the ways of our future projections. THE DREAM shall not save us, to suddenly come in and forever after everything will be better…no, it’s a struggle now. Certainly the lids, on the dream, that does not think it can be, is the problem. And the reluctance to allow it at all, it is rather kept away, in sequestered stories, unheard. So we can continue to dream, rather than dare to live it. That somehow the as yet undreamed/unlived dream, can totally transform these fields of lies, denials, codes and struggles against, yes it can…but there is a transition and this we are learning. To dream. To Create. To Be Us. One.
And the children I see from above, unborn perhaps, preciously hold signs of time and their age: numbers, and are certain of future in whatever vicissitudes and bring this to be in their inner senses. Awakened, from this terror of what I face as my position…my work…I come out somewhat.
Frazzled. Dazed. Sobered.
Mark is laying out flat like a human cross: amazed. This is the dreaming he says. It is another world… It is this world I say. We are here.
I go to Ponder, tired, overwhelmed, Traught, gentle. He says I am welcome here – with him. I tune into his experience. I say to him, this information, this being, must come through. And it does and we are learning to bring it through, the elements are like non-local wind, through the ley lines, we transmit this knowing, generating energy as we transmute our own generations. Certainly, our bodies are not used to this kind of thing. I almost then leave.
And he repeats that I am welcome. Soon we are META. I say, now we have to think in this way, we have to process, and develop the foundations of understanding – post analysis analysis. We are awakening this human technology to what it is. And there will be a time, when we develop the frameworks, so that we too will be like trees. Completely thoughtless. Completely thoughtful. Synchronous like a flock of birds flying. Yet, now, we are referencing our self references, what our walls ARE between our thoughts and structureless structures that we have built over and covered with graffiti.
And what we call the past is a good reference to our understanding of supposed future…
At the moment, I am reading about Ada Byron, the daughter of Lord Byron, the romantic poet and a woman called Annabella – his supposed antithesis.
Annabella was perhaps the most progressive modern woman of her time, scientific, mathematical and intellectually sided with reason and pious duty, rather than with the “passions” of poetry and imagination.
Their daughter was predicted to be a freak – a mutant and strange intertwining of these two apparent poles, of which swirling dramas unfolded around, in many arenas of public life at this time in England. The marriage between Annabella and Byron very significant news in early 1800’s, and the news of their “mutant” daughter, even more sensational.
Ada’s mother brought her up to be ridigidly scientific and mathematical, to counteract the Byron blood, which she vehemently castigated and regarded as evil. And so Ada was taught from a very early age; mathematics, science, reason, and anything that would counteract her wild imagination and “passions.”
When she was 30, this beautiful, eccentric “damned odd animal” as she termed herself, was the first person to eluciadate the usage of what we understand as the computer. She took the notes and basic mathematics of Babbage, who invented the analytical engine – widely considered to be the first computer. And then, she was the first to compile the information and coherently “program” that computer, by mathematically and imaginatively conceiving of its function and purpose.
Thus, the marriage between romance and science had birthed the digital age. Babbage’s computer was never completely built, although many years later it was and worked perfectly as it was designed to. At that time the world, only just coming to terms with train travel, would not truly build a computer for 100 hundred years. However, Ada morphogentically founded the beginnings of the digital age. The U.S. military named their primary programming language after her.
So just as number routines named after European mathematicians are no longer necessary for us now to work computers, thus the work we are doing now, will not be necessary in the fulfilment of the human bio-computer in its true functionality.
As I touch Ponders body, whole realms of information and understanding become about our communications with each other. The pristine feeling…of life in its own coherency is so irresistible…so pure.
As we consider and talk…as soon as we say something it is GOTTEN. We feel it spreading out and everyone getting it. And there is very little I can actually specifically remember in its exact form as we spoke.
It was a realisation of our inherent intelligence and how it does live, and what is presently essentially preventing the growth and way of that intelligence, and its fiber optic network, even within our body, the meridian system, and so much more. The meaning of which, is available to us…there are other beings working with us. Very simply, we are awakening from all that is not necessary, and realising the necessity of what we are in essence.
Perhaps two hours passed in this space of realisation. Mark has left a little while before, and he was smiling, awed and floated out of the circle. I am tired…yet switched on. Ponder and I wind it all down…then Helen and Jason come back! Immediately, Sally and Andrew are with us too!
We all just totally begin exclaiming in amazement and what has occurred for each of us, falling back into each other centres, hugging in its perfection, and synchronicity.
I was just saying to Ponder, he has been deliberately bringing in aspects of human reality to deprogram, and then inform of its originality. Jason, then says that is what he experienced the whole time! He said, it was a total deprogramming, and he couldn’t imagine it being any more full than it was. Helen had experienced not so much as Jason, and yet went into unusual spaces, which she found difficult to describe.
One of the first things I say to Helen is that, “You’re one of these shifting class people aren’t you!?” as I hear her voice change and morph in the sounds of all the different classes in England.
I said to her the class system, delineates our separation and the different stations or houses in which people in England live. I suggested that Jason, was collapsing those houses and those walls in himself, and she was consequently processing the ramifications and meanings of that movement. Jason said he let go of any need or motive for “work”, to actually build the houses, and create a system or anything at all…total freedom revealed.
Andrew and Sally, were post-smiling realised, exclaiming and pronouncing all kinds of things! They had walked all around the whole huge area, and not being able to find their tent, went on this magical mystery tour…giving someone DMT somewhere along the way! And we talked, touched, toned, compared and shared until 2am. What a marvelous convergence!
Mark sent me a poem he wrote on the summer solstice which he says predicts his own experience, and I think captures well the essence of each of our experiences on the first day of 2002.
networks of atoms as old as time itself combining and re-combining in an infinite dance of whirling energy and information sometimes a tree a stone, a brook, a woman, the fiery heart of a star, a gas cloud in interstellar space, an orgasm, a spark from the fire, a dolphin seperate though they seem all things are one all time is one in the web of life you are just one of the eyes that the universe uses to look at itself dawn light falling golden across the gum-tops the first smile of a child for its’ mother undeniably; the beach calls to the breaking wave ”crash here” when you open your eyes and see the dance of life unclothed it stands before you naked and glorious in its’ might and still its’ only purpose is to celebrate the glory of your existence