We danced the night away at our friend’s wedding. Now it’s 1 am, and it’s all I can do to hit publish this time. Mindy is snug in bed. Enjoy!

—David/Gonzo

I sit here in a park in San Miguel de Allende in Mexico. Mindy and I shared coffee and breakfast with friends, and she went off with other friends while I write up reflections on the book club conversation this week.

This was a beautifully weird and rich conversation. Haven’t they all been beautifully weird? Sure, but the conversation this week felt like jazz.

Some part of each of us wants to feel just like everyone else and also be honored for our uniqueness. If you want to get a better sense of that tension, discuss perception!

In our group, we have people whose inner world is rich with sound and visuals coming from self, spirit, ancestors, and premonitions. We also have a book club member whose inner world is devoid of pictures—a phenomenon called aphantasia.

What does it mean to perceive? This was the underlying question of the discussion.

“During the opening meditation, what was your experience? What did you see?”

“I got distracted and started replaying a conversation I had earlier today.”

“I went to a place I often go in meditation. A place that brings me so much peace, a meadow near some water and woods.”

We had such a beautiful conversation, and it began so much like previous discussions, with folks sharing their experiences. So, it surprised me when this discussion took a turn and took on the form of a dialectic. It has not been clearer to me that each person’s embodied experience is unique than it was this week when talking about visual perception.

“For me, it was just darkness.”

“You don’t see anything?”

“No.”

“How about you? So, you when you were replaying the conversation what was that like?”

“Well, I was remembering what they were saying and replaying what their face was doing and thinking about how it felt.” 

“You see their face!?” 

“Hmm, yeah, I see their face and where we were.” 

By this point, I felt I’d shared more than enough this session, and I was being a bit of a rascal. So I kept a thought to myself, but later, I shared in the book club group chat:

This is the first year since probably 10 that set a New Year’s resolution—I find the practice stupid. My resolution was to relate better to the beliefs of others especially of those I love. Chakras one through five brought me so much that felt juicy and insightful. Chakra six, well, it hit some inner belligerence in me that I feel committed to. But none of the previous discussions have stuck with me as much as this one. I find myself replaying the discussion and feeling into what comes up for me.

Listening to everyone share specifics of their mind’s eye was humbling. If you really examine and compare how you and others perceive the world around you, it becomes clear that there’s sight, and then there’s seeing. We kind of know we don’t all see the same. For example, I’ve worn glasses most of my life and am not a good candidate for corrective surgery (irregular astigmatism)—looking through my glasses it’s clear I don’t see clearly. But then there’s the vast universe of each mind that turns sight into seeing, and our inner seeing ranges so radically that it feels like a miracle that we can relate as well as we do to one another.

I shared that psychedelics and weed both open synesthesia for me. I close my eyes, and the lights come on. Sound becomes waves and color. It is often so rich and enthralling that I forget where I am.

“Psychedelics were challenging. I did some research before and after and found that people who experience aphantasia perceive the visual components of psychedelics differently, and different parts of the brain activate (not the visual cortex).”

I could see the others in the room thoughtfully observing just how differently we all perceive what, ostensibly, seems like the same thing. The room's energy was rich with a kind of gleeful reverence for difference.

That, friends, is a beautiful gift we can each give one another. 

--David/Gonzo

NEAT!

• Aphantasia: ten years since I coined the term for lacking a mind’s eye – the journey so far

• Coltrane & Vivaldi—this is still my go-to play-through playlist. I love how Coltrane and Vivaldi both took an instrument (saxophone and violin, respectively) to a new place with technique and imagination. And Max Richter’s interpretation has really been fun to absorb.

• LSD and the Mind of the Universe—we both have enjoyed this. I appreciated the courage and dedication involved in 73 500-600µg LSD trips and the 20-year integration and reflections that became this book. My largest dose to date is 330µg, and doubling that brings a flutter to my chest that terrifies me. I think psychedelics-supported philosophy is a worthy endeavor.

• Conscious Living—If, like me, your spiritual belligerence makes woo-woo things a challenge, this is a beautiful well-being approach focused on “what works” and leaves the way to each individual. I’m loving this read.

PARTING

WORDS

PIC

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DISCLAIMER: This newsletter is for educational and informational purposes only and is not intended as a substitute for professional medical advice.