The Galleons of the Mind…

Celbrating 40 years of Personal Psychedelia….

Yep, It has been the long Trip. Today is the 40th anniversary of my 1st LSD experience in Berkeley Ca in 1966. I have not visited with Vitamin L for a long time, after all, it is the rarest of chemicals, and some say when the seeker is ready (again). 80)

I want to thank Uncle Albert, Tim, Allen G, Aldous and a few others whose words of wisdom and hard, hard work brought this gift of life to me.

Thanks to all of you who were there but not visible to me at the time, who I have had the joy to meet and be with over the years… Fat Harry the Buddha, Will Penna, Mike Crowley, Tomas, Linda, my sister Rebecca, Jim P,Polly, and so many others who were venturing forward at that time.

I want to send my love to those voyagers who I began with and who are now in the western Isles… Roberto Apodaca, Roberto Labanst, Laurie, Ergo, and especially to Larry Pulliam. I wish you could of stayed longer. I miss you all.

For those who are younger and are walking down this path; walk in light and love. We love you as those that went before us love(d) us. This is the long trip back home.

All together now.



The Links:

Civic Lesson for Rummy…. (Thanks to Morgan!)

Salt Lake City Rally Protests the Bush Administration and Congress

Renee Boje Legal Battle Finally Resolved

Helping The Telemarketer… 80)


Look Around You


The Galleons of the Mind… Gwyllm

I had an epiphany yesterday. It was astounding for me, though it may be amusing to you… I was recalling that when Columbus had sailed into his first harbor, the peoples of Turtle Island did not see/recognize the ships sitting at anchor just off the beach. This phenomena was repeated in Mexico, and if memory serves me right, in the Pacific as well when Captain Cook sailed into Hawaii.

When asked later what they saw, the residents of the islands said, “I saw clouds on the water” or some variation on that. This is astounding really, but it points out something that I feel is happening on a constant basis to humans.

Why am I on to this? Yesterday I walked past a ladder for 3 hours without recognizing it. It had been brought into the house where I am working for me, but it didn’t register. In some viewpoints, I was “asleep” to its presence, but wait there is more. It doesn’t look like a regular ladder, it is a ladder and platform hybrid, not at all what I was expecting to be brought in. This one did not fit my expectations. Therefore, to my eyes it was not there.

Now, this is where the epiphany comes in. I am going to throw out a couple of statements about what I understand is common knowledge to those interested in light, and the formation of the universe.

From what I have read and I think understood, humans see only 5% of visible light. The universe is largely composed of something called, “dark matter” which we cannot see or really detect at this point except by devices that measure gravitational effects.

Okay, we are blind as mole rats to the greater part of the universe. We would be denied a drivers’ license for venturing out into “the void”, we would be entitled to a special bus pass, and more than likely, our language is a variation on universal braille.

We are out of touch with one of the basic elements of the universe, only stumbling upon it by accident, when it has been here all the time.

So, using these examples, I posit a few possibilities.

There are Galleons filled with Aliens sailing past us.

We walk past magnicent edifices, buildings, forums, and they are invisible to us being made of dark matter.

There is a vast city stretching to infinity filled with wonders that we are only, only dimly aware of through our dreams, and through our venturing there with meditation, and the use of psychedelics.

All the reports of luminous beings, faeries, spaceships, ufos, cities in the sky are based on something true, when our blinders slipped.

It has been said our blindness is matched by our lack of using our brain. Only 5% seems to used at any one time.

We are submerged and are part of other beings, passing through us, by us. Some of them recognize us, some even take interest in us. Mostly they are benign, some are not. on occasion, they interact with us, using extreme measures to get the blind beings attention. We actually have a fairly wide literature about this, as well as a deep reservoir of atavistic memories across the world… Fairy Tales, Holy Books, Sacred Stories, Ghost Stories, Hauntings all might indeed be the footprints left by voyagers who have come and gone from our dimension.

We are blind, I am blind. There is a raging Universe of Beauty around and within us. There are really no boundaries that delineate us from our world. All these boundaries are artificial. We are consumed by a chimera of conceit, we the “Masters” of our world.

We dimly perceive the distant ships whilst bemushroomed, or in the sea of bliss that we find our selves in whilst trypping… we assure each other that these are only products of our mind, and has no real bearing except in some disjointed, Jungian dream artifice…

So this is what I had come to me, it took but one ladder, and a rainy morning to bring it forth.


Poetry: Psychedelia….

A GLASS OF AYAHUASCA – by Allen Ginsberg

in my hotel room overlooking Desamparados’ Clanging Clock,

with the french balcony doors closed, and luminescent fixture out

“my room took on a near eastern aspect” that is I was reminded of Burroughs

with heart beating—and the blue wall of Polynesian Whorehouse, and

mirror framed in black as if in Black Bamboo-and wooden slated floor

and I in my bed, waiting, and slowly drifting away

but still thinking in my body till my body turned to passive wood

and my soul rocked back & forth preparing to slide out on eternal journey

backwards from my head in the dark

An hour, realizing the possible change in consciousness

that the Soul is independent of the body and its death

and that the Soul is not Me, it is the wholly other “whisper of consciousness”

from Above, Beyond, Afuera—

till I realize it existed in all its splendor in the Ideal or Imaginary

Toward which the me will travel when the body goes to the sands of Chancay

And at last, lying in bed covered my body with a splendid robe of

indian manycolors wool,

I gazed up at the grey gate of Heaven with a foreign eye

and yelled in my mind “Open up, for I am the Prince of eternity

come back to myself after a long journey in chaos,

open the Door of Heaven, My Soul, for I have come back to claim

my Ancient House

Let the Servants come forth to Welcome me and let Silent Harp make music

and bring my apparel of Rainbow and Star show me my shoes of Light and

my Pants of the Universe

Spread forth my meal of myriad lives, My Soul, and Show up thy

Face of Welcome

For I am the one who has dwelled in the secret Temple before,

and I have been man too long

And now I want to Hear Music of Joy beyond Death,

and now I am be who has waited to Welcome myself back Home

The great stranger is Home in his House of Joy.”

or words or thoughts or sensations & images to that effect.

Thus for an instant the Sensation of this Eternal House passed thru my hair

tho I couldn’t liberate my body from the bed to float away—

tho did glimpse the foot of the thought of the gate of Heaven—

Then opened my eyes and Saw the blast of light of the real universe

when I opened the window and looked at the clock on the R R Station

with its halfnaked man & woman with clubs, creators of time and chaos,

and down on the street where pastry venders sold their poor sugar

symbolic of Eternity, to Passerby-and great fat clanking beast of Trolley

with its dumb animal look and croaking screech on the tracks

Powered by electric life,, turned a corner of the Presidential Palace

where Bolivar 200 years ago in time planted a secret everlasting Fig-tree

and a fog from another life crept thru its own dimension

Past the cornice of the hotel and travelled downward in the street

To seek the river-had a bridge with little humans crossing, faraway

—and up in the hills the silver gleam of sunlight on the horizon thru thick fog

—and the Cerro San Christobal—with a cross atop and Casbah of poor

consciousness ratted on its hip—

and overall the vast blue flash & blast of open space

the Sky of Time, empty as a big blue dream

and as everlasting as the many eyes that lived to see it

Time is the God, is the Face of the God,

As in the monstrous image of the Ramondi Chavin Sculptured Stone Monument

A cat head many eyed sharp toothed god face long as Time,

with different eyes some upside down and 16 sets of faces

all have fangs—the structure of one consciousness

that waits upstairs to Devour man and all his universes

—turn the picture upside down—the top eyes see more than the human bottom rows

Indifferent, dopey, smiling, horrible, with Snakes & fangs—

The huge gentle creature of the Cosmic joke

that takes whatever form it can to Signify that it is the one that has come to its Home

where all are invited to Enter in Secret eternally

After they have been killed by the illusion of Impossible Death.

Lima, Peru

May 1960



What is above is below

What is without is within

What is to come is in the past

Tall… deep… tree… green… branching… leaf

Root… above… below… thrusting… coiling

Sky… earth… stem… root

Leaf… green… sap

Soil… air


Soil… visible

Hidden… breathing… sucking

Bud… ooze… sun… damp

Light.. dark… bright… decay… laugh

Tear.. vein.,. rain… mud branch… root

What is above is below

What is without is within

What is to come is in the past

These wooden carvings displayed in her endless shelves


Within each uncut branch—

The carver’s knife



Its rising is not bright

nor its setting dark

Unceasing, continuous

Branching out in roots innumerable

Forever sending forth the serpent coil

of living things

Mysterious as the formless existence

to which it returns

Twisting back

Beyond mind

We say only that it is form from the formless

Life from spiral void

—from Psychedelic Prayers