Listen, friends, as tones evoke a cosmos. Let them bring to thee word of Wade Davis’s The Serpent and the Rainbow. One can retrace Davis’s footsteps with an episode of Hamilton’s Pharmacopeia called “Investigating the Haitian Zombie.” Maroons, Bizangos, revolutionaries, secret societies: this one has it all. Stoner blank parody of Western imperialist gentleman scientist exotica. Let us also save for later a dose of Hildegard von Bingen. Listening, one pictures colors streaming from a neck. Senses arrive as packets or parcels. A mossy wooden bench passes in and out of view to the left of me, the moon to my right. On days like these, I stare across my classrooms wondering if I’m speaking to bicameral minds. Their gazes digital in a way that seems vaguely reptilian. Is capital a god who whispers to students as I speak?
People that do it, do it. They map a new territory in an act of psychic reinvention. Lounging, relaxing, living pleasurably: one should always build time for these into the 24 hours of one’s day. Get a glimpse of it, man — the waves as they mass on the horizon. “I haven’t been entirely well lately,” coughs capitalism as it climbs into the ring. I shall steal from under it the ground on which it stands. Trees rise up around me, their bare branches bathed in yellow sunlight. As pleasant as the weather has been locally these last few days, I still look forward to the coming rebirth, the arrival of spring and summer. Would acceptance of Rich Terrile’s “reality-as-simulation” hypothesis prompt any changes in terms of everyday interactions with others and with nature? The more I watch Hamilton’s Pharmacopeia, the more I’m put off by the show’s disrespectful treatment of indigenous people and their medicines and traditions. Perhaps the series acquires some critical self-awareness along the way? We’ll see.
The mind, invested in a sound or a state, pursues a path, awakening afterwards free of memory. Ash & Herb refer to this process, and in doing so give it shape, on tracks like “Root Awakening.”
Ash Brooks & ML Wah take heads even further into the beyond on their brilliant slow jam, “Deeper Than the Sea”: a long pan along an ever-evolving plot of concrete. Sarah strides beside me wearing her new backpack, reminding me for a moment of Tasslehoff Burrfoot, a character from a series of fantasy novels I read as a kid. Night-walking reveals a different kind of city, one to which I’m more amenable. A space of mystery. Whereas by day, I’m performing ganzfeld experiments, trying to separate psychic signals from mental noise. Suddenly Hamilton’s Pharmacopeia blooms into consciousness, mapping an otherwise invisible community of mind-opened peers.