E U P H O R IC A

Approach the God of Dreams with sword drawn.

The First Doctor was a woman wise and compassionate. Because of her skill, her receptivity, her strength,and her integrity, the gods looked upon her with favor.
The First Doctor had many patients, but few medicines. She had songs, she had cereals, but the terrible cries of her patients drove her into the mountains seeking a vision of power.
In the mountains she fasted, then ate. Sang, then was quiet. She waited, she lived alone in the mountains. She met the animals, and then she met the plants.
And the gods — the spirits of the earth, the spirit of the sky, the spirits of the plants and the animals and the spirits of her ancestors — pleased with her, granted her a wish.
Briefly, the First Doctor considered. There were so many things for which one might ask: power, sustenance, energy, vision, love.
"You may have whatever you wish," the gods repeated, "from the least to the greatest."
"Then, O Gods, give me that medicine that cures pain, the medicine that eases suffering."
And the gods responded. They gave her the opium poppy, and they told her she had chosen wisely.
"After food," they told her, "this plant is our greatest gift. Use it wisely and unselfishly. It is never wrong to ease the suffering of those who do not know the secret. But remember, for yourself, who are a doctor, this plant shall ever be a poison."

The danger is smoking as a defense against some moral disequilibrium. Then it is difficult to approach the drug in the way it must be approached, as wild beasts should be approached — without fear.
-Jean Cocteau, Opium: Diary of a Cure

Wine robs a man of his self-possession: opium sustains and reinforces it . . . wine constantly leads a man to the brink of absurdity and extravagance; and, beyond a certain point, it is sure to volatilize and to disperse the intellectual energies; whereas opium always seems to compose what had been agitated, and to concentrate what had been distracted.
— Thomas De Quincey, Confessions of an English Opium Eater

Alcohol provokes fits of madness. Opium provokes fits of wisdom
—Jean Cocteau

Opium: Diary of a Cure


Euphoria is a middle child, born between consciousness and sleep. It is a condition of peace and well-being, like that which follows orgasm, and not everyone reacts to it the same way. Some are entranced by the radical stillness, and lie unmoving, without thoughts. Others are so glad to be freed from the rude pushing and shoving of desire that they take advantage of their reprieve and set about finishing some piece of work. Some just let their minds drift, half awake, half dreaming, and let the yearning visions try to coax their souls up from the somatic twilight of their bodies.

Perhaps we desire death: or why is poison so sweet? Why do the little Sirens
Make kindlier music, for a man caught in the net of the world Between news-cast and work-desk, — The little chirping Sirens, alcohol, amusement, opiates, And the carefully sterilized lust, —
Than the angels of life?
— Robinson Jeffers, "Sirens"

the Ally: Like Mayakovsky, we play Russian roulette. That is why luck is so vitally important.

Pain is the first teacher we deny.


DALE PENDELL


excerpt from "Pharmako Poeia- Plant Powers, Poisons and Herbcraft"