At the exact moment my upper lip begins glistening with a fine layer of sweat, my temperature reaches breaking point. There’s a moment of panic and I gasp in a lungful of dewy air, heavy with the flavor of sacred herbs. A jolt, and I feel as though my heart will burst as I wake up into a dream. My eyes fly open, desperately grasping at the dark edges of the void I find, projecting the blazing images of my disoriented mind, which tilts frantically in the wholly foreign environment. I press my face into the earth, immediately finding some relief in the cool mud, which cakes my cheek. Breathe, I command my body, but I quickly realize that any attempts to exert control, either over myself or my environment (which have become one), will be met with resistance from every atom:
Logic does not exist in the lodge.
…It’s suspended in the outside world, which I assume is still moving; I’m really not sure that time exists at this point either. Deprived of sight and intoxicated by the unfamiliar and kaleidoscopic play on the other four common senses, it’s impossible to retain a normal state of mind. Plunging back into the nihility, I identify the sounds of humming, drumming, moaning, and sobbing. Warm droplets cascade down my nose and shoulder. I feel fairly confident it’s sweat, and not mine, but it would be impossible to say to whom it might belong; I feel at least four other warm bodies pressing against various parts of mine in the darkness. I also feel pretty certain I’m on the brink of a having a mindblowing panic attack, but I’m not going anywhere. Physically. The water pourer had made that crystal clear. Even if I could escape, blindly crawling through the carpet of mud and limbs, while maneuvering around the pile of scorching hot stones toward the sealed door, would be a daunting task indeed. Instead, I flatten to the ground as much as possible, and decide to withhold my ego and try simply to observe; that’s the only way I’ll make it.
Pressed into the mud like a worm, I let myself become hypnotized by the lyrics of a dozen healing hymns. I don’t recognize any of the native words, and it doesn’t matter. When the flap finally opens two hours later, I feel new.
That sounds like an amazing experience. It reminds me of a dream I had not too long ago. I walked into a lodge and it was peopled entirely by anthropomorphic animals. But the animals were styled after Northwestern Native American representations of animals. It was very tense in the lodge because one of the animals had taken over and was corrupting the whole dynamic. It was a really bloated bullfrog. He had cowed everyone and was pressuring the other animals to do questionable things. Just then I looked down at myself and saw that I looked like a coyote…but it was odd because I didn’t look like one. I guess the best way I can describe it is like when you look at an oilslick in a parking lot; at certain angles certain colors appear that weren’t there at first. So that’s what it was like.
Then out of nowhere, I got the idea that I should say something about the bullfrog. I felt like I should confront him. So I made a huge scene and threw him out. They all looked at me expectantly. As I started to wake up, I remember I told them something about Sobek.
It was a really lucid dream. But it made me think about how our perceptions overlay a priori truths. For instance, reality, as we understand it, is dependent on several ecological, cognitive considerations–all of which except space is intrinsically rooted in axiomatic truths. Space is one of the only components of reality that is self-evident–that is, it doesn’t require us to experience it in order for it to have meaning. It’s a little like math. We overlay empirical reality with these logically asserted, but unverified, conceptions about reality. And that is was constitutes reality for an individual. But if there is more than one individual, how does that change the above relationship?
As I see it, if you have two people, person (a) and person (b) looking at an object (1), then (a)’s conception of (1) is most assuredly going to be different from (b)’s understanding of (1). So what is reality then? (a)’s understanding, (b)’s understanding, or (1)’s existence. Ecological cognition says that collective dialogical communion between both (a) and (b) about (1) constitutes reality insofar as humans can ever be concerned. So when you say that logic doesn’t exist in the lodge, it’s ok that it doesn’t; but the only reason that logic doesn’t exist is because it was collectively agreed that it shouldn’t. Maybe it’s more accurate to say that traditional logic doesn’t exist as such, rather it has been replaced by an agreed upon logic. Like in the dream I had. In traditional logic, it is not possible to exist as both a human and an animal. But every being in the lodge in my dream seemed not to have much trouble existing as both a human and an animal. I wouldn’t therefore say that logic doesn’t exist; I would say that a different type of logic is in evidence.
Sorry for the super long comment.
Cory!
I didn’t want you to think I didn’t read your comment; I have, several times. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and every time I try to respond, my mind begins vibrating and spinning until all the pretty things I was going to try and say become filmy and horribly esoteric. Thanks for writing, as always. Are your dreams often so vivid? Perception, reality, logic- all such a divine mindfuck, aren’t they? ;]
Hey, Maggie.
I WAS starting to think you didn’t read my comment! But I’m glad you did. I’m so flattered that you read it more than once (SEVERAL! She said Several!!1!). lol.
My dreams tend to be reflections of how I’m feeling. Some nights I feel more vivid than others. Preception, reality, and logic…everyone has to have their time hanging in their tree. Have you noticed that many world religions have that iconography? Buddha, Odin, Jesus, etc. Maybe our tree is “Now.” Maybe we hang in the divine mindfuck for a reason–like the abovementioned deities.
Like you said in your most recent post, it’s all about staying in the moment–it’s all about our time in the tree.
No, I definitely read it as soon as you posted, decided I’d think a bit before responding, then couldn’t seem to find the words.
Tree iconography is very powerful. It’s kind of like in City Slickers when the old dude (Curly? HAHA I am having childhood flashbacks) says that “it’s just one thing” that’s most important in life. One’s personal interpretation and application of that singularity, is, of course, mutable. Our trees, as you put them, exist only in the present. The divine mindfuck is deciding what to do with the knowledge after you eat the fruit.
I haven’t been dreaming much lately, which sucks. I know it’s because I’ve been playing the sleep-deprivation game. Ugh. As I write this comment after midnight. Okay, goodnight. We will chat more manana ;]
I’m not really sure if the “tree” ONLY exists in the now. I would argue that it is the NOW, but exists always. The way I think of the Present is like a carousel of a series of slides. I think that humans experience each slide one at a time, but can think back to past slides and forward to future slides. And although each slide is self-evident, humans see each slide as it exists for them–in other words, humans have a dialogical relationship with each contiguous slide such that they feel like there is only one never-ending slide; like a never-ending NOW instead of a series of individual, ever-present slides.
I think that the whole “tree experience” that seems to historically represent coming to enlightenment means that you learn to love each slide for everything that it is. Like, if your life is presently really dark and unhappy, and all you can think to do is have that dialogical experience with better times in the past (like all you can do is guild the past because you’re really unhappy now), that’s kinda like before the tree experience. But after the tree experience, you learn that each moment/slide that you have gone through/are going through/will go through is an individual self-contained quantum with which you have a unique relationship.
Like with derealization or depersonalization, I think that’s kinda like the furthest you can get from a tree experience. And sometimes people can’t get out of that mode. And they take lots of meds or drink or whatever to cope with being “out of the tree” or out of the present/moment/slide. It really takes an anchor of some sort to get you back into the present–like something or someone to keep you there long enough for you to redefine or rebuild that relationship with the tree. I was glad to read that you were able to deal with your derealization. Can I ask how you did that exactly?
Cory
Hey Lt.,
Have you experienced derealization or depersonalization? I used to dissociate around loud or otherwise strong emotions, but DR/DP was a different game altogether… it was like certain senses numbed up so that I was only partially experiencing my internal and external environments, which was terrifying because I didn’t understand what was happening. It was like eating a bunch of brownies without realizing they had been baked with hash. Scary. I had been going through a difficult period with my personal life, but the DR/DP seemed to come on strongly with the terrible withdrawals from discontinuing several heavy and completely unnecessary medications. It was kind of the perfect storm. I had trusted my doctor, as my family had, and so voluntarily eliminating these drugs was daunting. I finally realized that no one could help me; I was the only person in the world who could help myself on that fundamental level. I had been seeking external assistance based on the symptom = disorder = pharmaceutical model, but really, my answers were internal. Once I began to understand that there was nothing wrong with me (besides a gullible and traumatized personality), I sought out methods which would support my strengths, supplement my cognitive-behavioral work, and, finally, enable systemic healing. I began focusing on those: raw foods, nutrition as a healing modality, classes I found compelling, taking brisk walks with really loud music through headphones, reading a lot. Even though I was conscious, it was difficult for several months. I remained consistent though, and it ended up yielding me gold in the form of self-reliance, self-acceptance, and enormous self-growth. As much as I hated it (and believe me that I thought death must be much less painful), it ended up being the most divine opportunity or gift I have received yet.
…and I get you on the tree. I think it boils down to the great web of things; the layers built upon and networking with all the others, with the kinetic possibility for growth, stagnation, or decay in every direction.
M
It’s really impressive that you dragged yourself out of derealization all under your own steam. It’s hard to imagine! How did you come to all those realizations about the doctors, the meds, and yourself?
I have to say I wasn’t completely without support; I had a few friends backing me, and one in particular was especially encouraging. The turning point came when I was desperate, and chose to change my perspective and approach- the one I was trying was clearly not working. I began consistently seeking out my positive attributes, and shifted my perception of the DR/DP experience from one based in fear to accepting it as a completely normal act of self-preservation by my mind. I chose to be patient with myself, and maintained my belief that it too would eventually pass…and it did fade away after about 6 months. It wasn’t easy. It was really hard to force myself to socialize and keep a regular schedule of sleep, nutrition and exercise, but I knew that was key.
So how did the wheels in my brain begin turning in that direction? It was a combination of things, one of which was realizing how over medicated we are as a society, and how that applied to me as well. I began to view doctors, etc. as fallible (and overworked) human beings, and stopped blindly trusting their professional opinions. When I say that I realized I was the only one who could help myself, this is why. No matter how much we might want to, we can never truly know the mind of another person. We can make assumptions, even carefully deduced ones based on many years’ worth of schooling, training, and experience, but it’s ultimately a crapshoot. In the same way, I redefined my understanding of the western medicine model (symptom = illness/disease = drug) and began to learn about systemic healing; that one can’t selectively heal one illness at a time. If provided the appropriate terrain, the body can and will heal itself completely. In the same way, given an acid environment, poor diet, toxic relationships, and other lifestyle or behavioral patterns, sickness will thrive. It’s completely contrary to our common practice of treating individual symptoms. I also began observing others, watching a lot of documentaries, reading a lot of books and articles, and having conversations with professors, doctors, patients, and so forth. It was a process of trial and error, but I was confident I was onto something.
I hope that answers your question. What was your experience with DR/DP?
M
Hi! Sorry for the late response been busy.
a lot of my buddies have had this thing, and it’s like the only thing that helps the ones that actually get over it is their wife or girlfriend. The guys that dont really have anyone like that kinda just turn into rattlesnakes.
You know how you make a rattlesnake? You take anybody from the best guy you ever met to the most rotten person you can find–it really doesn’t matter. And you give them something to believe in..something that they think is pretty important. For some guys, it’s the service; for others it might be their wives or kids or family. And then you put them through some shit and then take away whatever it was that they believed in. I think that’s why the guys that I’ve seen come out ok tend to be the guys who have someone at home that they can count on.
But the guys who don’t have anyone, they turn into rattlesnakes. They turn mean. I think it’s because their capacity for doing good things gets used up and they don’t have anyone or anything that can fill them up again. It’s like they get all used up from people always taking from them and never giving them anything in return. So they figure the only way to “have” is to take. It’s like a cycle.
It’s good that you had people there for you because there’s a lot of people out there who don’t. It really takes a special kind of person to stick it out with you when you aren’t well. I had this buddy who was married until he got sick, if you know what I mean. I don’t know, I guess it’s pretty hard to stick with someone like that, so I don’t feel right about blaming her for leaving..but at the same time, it’s like, wtf. You never know until youre there yourself I guess. But to my mind, when youre serious with someone like youre married, it’s about sharing–and not just the good things.
wow, my reply kinda got heavy towards the end. guess I just had too much to think lol.
Hi Cor,
It’s a very confusing state of being. It’s too bad you’ve seen people become angry as a result of DR/DP. I suppose it makes sense though; gentle and patient support is critical as individuals work their way through the haze. Those I’ve met who have experienced it have become withdrawn, anxious, and painfully self-conscious as a result of feeling ashamed, afraid, and hopeless. In this way, I’ve never experienced the rattlesnake, but I have definitely seen both those who will stick it out with their loved ones and those who just book it with the early signs of distress. From their perspective, it must be a scary and disorienting experience as well. I think it really comes down to (unmet) expectations.
I reread what you wrote about give and take, and learning patterns of “taking” = “having.” It makes sense; it just seems unnecessary. We are all making our own way, though, and there’s still hope. Sounds like you have been a good friend. I wish your friends only the best.
I have been very, very lucky: a few of my close friends are unconditionally loving and accepting. What more could one ask for?
Have a great weekend.
M