Chemistry and consciousness… what do such terms imply? The important answer is that, taken together, they directly address the boundary between the physical and the psychological. Chemistry implies chemicals and substances—material things, in other words—whereas altered states of awareness lie in the realm of the intangible mind. We established in the last chapter that various types of substance, particularly those with a close molecular resemblance to the brain’s neurotransmitters, appear to elicit fairly predictable and characteristic changes in consciousness. If we consider psilocybin, we see that it bridges perfectly the conceptual gap between the two seemingly incompatible worlds of mind and matter, psychological and physical. The more we come to understand the modus operandi of psilocybin, the closer we get to divining the actual design of the bridge linking mind to matter.
A tall order then, this attempt to resolve the age-old mind/body problem. Still, no harm will have been done should I fail miserably in my theoretical endeavors. After all, untenable solutions inevitably aid the formulation of sound solutions, so the “psilocybin solution” should not have to be completely discarded. Bear with me then and judge for yourself as we embark on the next stage of the sacred mushroom mystery tour. This will take us further into informational territory as we focus more closely on the structural dynamics of psychedelic visions. Because such visions seemingly depend in some vital way on the integration and cohesion of large amounts of neuronal information, then above all else, an understanding of information is assuredly key to unlocking the mystery of consciousness, whether of the psilocybinetic kind or of the normal kind.
We have seen that one major aspect of the psilocybin experience—the perception of vivid visions with eyes closed—appears to be the result of dreaming while awake, or at least something akin to this (this has nothing to do with daydreaming, which is something else entirely). According to our previous analysis, we can view such visions as being dynamic information patterns conveyed in the neuronal systems of the brain, information patterns that have been specifically “freed” to form themselves through the “liberating” action of psychedelic substances on serotonergic systems. Similarly, REM dreams would appear to be generated by the same “freed” neuronal systems.
The fact that psychedelic visions are loaded with powerful and often universal symbology might indicate that there are predetermined ways in which large amounts of neuronal information can be organized and integrated. This introduces an important idea. Just as elements like carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen naturally organize themselves into specific stable structures like water, carbon dioxide, and amino acids, so too may information in the brain, in the form of neuronal firing activity, organize itself in the same kind of way.
The fundamental quality that makes, say, water the same everywhere is its molecular structure—the exact way in which molecules of hydrogen and oxygen cohere. They form a specific pattern, a specific molecular expression. If my speculations are correct, information embodied in systems of neuronal firing likewise forms itself into specific structured patterns. And just as water molecules can organize themselves still further into stable macroscopic patterned structures like snowflakes, so too can more and more coherent forms of information coalesce by way of the patterning processes occurring in the psilocybin-influenced brain. Freezing temperatures (at least partly) help foster the structured patterns exhibited by snowflakes, whereas psilocybin helps foster the structured patterns of neuronal activity that come to be experienced as shamanic visions. Water molecules organize themselves according to the rules of a molecular language; neuronal firing patterns organize themselves according to the rules of a psychological language.
If specific patterns and structures emerge from expansive information-integration processes occurring within the brain, this would explain the existence of universal symbology, universal dream images, and mythical archetypes. Throughout the world, in all of the countless religions, cosmologies, and mythologies created by our species, we come across highly similar mythical images and symbols full of meaning and associative power.
The serpent is a good example of this universal symbology. It is found in the religious mythology of the Maya and the Aztecs (who worshipped Quetzalcoatl—the Feathered Serpent); the ancient Egyptians (the headdresses of the pharaohs incorporated the viper as a symbol of wisdom and intellect); the Australian aborigines (who worshipped the Rainbow Serpent); and the ancient peoples of India (who worshipped Nagas, literally wise serpents). Serpent mythology is also found in the ancient epic of Gilgamesh (a serpent tells of a mythical plant that can confer immortality) and in the Eden of the Old Testament (the wise but feared serpent who offers forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge). More often than not, the serpent symbolizes a wise, divine, or spiritual life force or deity.
As we are on the subject of serpentine motifs, here is a relevant description of mine in which I describe some typical visions instigated by the mushroom.
Once, I remember seeing huge serpentine coils piled up upon one another and somehow turning as if the cogs of some organic machine. Then I found myself gliding toward a flexuous off-white mass which for the life of me I could not comprehend. This rippled white stuff was everywhere, and I was being drawn into it, suffocating almost as it surrounded me.
Suddenly, seeing this mass close up, I realised what it was. It was convoluted brain tissue. Spongy white cortical tissue, fold after fold of it. This was the immense brain of some mythical Serpent related, I thought, to Gaia. I felt that I was seeing a visual representation of the powerful intelligence of the Earth itself, the “Earth Brain” as it were.
The scene then changed and I found myself touring a building that was made of both artery-laced flesh and conventional material. Each room seemed to have a particular biological function. It was most bizarre. I appeared to be inside a kind of visceral architecture that was breathing gases, pumping oceans of blood, and digesting vast vats of food.
In fact, such visionary motifs indicating the fusion of man-made architecture with biological structure were repeated a number of times. I often perceived stately homes and palaces—or rather I would be gliding gracefully through such palatial places—and always, the woodwork, like the banisters, wall panels, or staircases, would reveal themselves to be made of the body of a living creature. To be precise, I perceived that these buildings were woven from the jewelled body of the Serpent. Everything was alive, all was part of one animate, constructing entity. And if I saw human figures in any of these scenes, they too were formed out of the transmutating body of the Serpent. Everything in these scenes had the stamp of the Serpent’s hide upon them, in that a kind of pulsating grid of luminescent lines and scaly jewels pervaded every object. {30} 30 1. Powell, Sacred Ground, 34.
Serpent motifs might be universal because, as with other mythical symbols, they represent stable, organized concentrations of information. A symbol, such as the mythical Serpent, embodies a large set of relations or, to be more specific, it is the point where a huge web of psychological relations converge. To fully understand the symbol is to sense at once all of its relations to other objects of perceptual experience. In other words, visual symbols play a role in a psychological language. (Here, I again invoke the concept of language since language is essentially an informational system not restricted to words alone. Language, in the abstract way in which I refer to it, is a system of informational elements bearing definite relations with one another; hence a language of words, of molecules, of symbols, and so forth.)
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