Human populations that do not have contact with the psychedelic tremendum are neurotic because they are male ego dominated.

Belief is a form of infantilism. There is no ground for believing anything.

A glacier rattles in the cupboard, the desert sighs in the bed, and the crack in the teacup opens a door to the land of the dead. The Maya call this Xibalba (Shibalba), the road to the dimension of the dead.

I think what's really happening is that a dialogue opens up between the ego and these larger, more integrated parts of the psyche that are normally hidden from view.

If psychedelics are exopheromones that dissolve the dominant ego, then they are also enzymes that synergize the human imagination and empower language. They cause us to connect and reconnect the contents of the collective mind in ever more implausible, beautiful, and self-fulfilling ways.

The only real experience that counts, is your own.

I connect the psychedelic dimension to the dimension of inspiration and dream.