Here's to
Nicholas Sand, Alchemist of LSD
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About 2 years ago, Nicholas Sand was found in Canada, along with the greatest psychedelic
lab in the world ("literally better than the Health Canada lab"), producing LSD,
DMT, Ecstasy and Nexus. For 23 years he had been a fugitive, escaping a severe
sentence in the U.S. and becoming a one man psychedelic force of nature, showering his
designer drugs on the sleeping crowds of monkeys that currently inhabit most of the land
masses of this Planet Earth. Last week, Nicholas Sand was sent back to San Francisco to
face the same judge who convicted him back in 1974. His fate is out of our hands,
completely beyond our control. The huge cold monster that overlooks public safety
("the peace of the cemeteries") has him in its claws and it won't let go. Here
is what we have to say about this. |
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Conti sits, up in the safety of his bench, where he has
waited for so many years. At every step of the way he has protected, he has served as
guardian: what we know to be true shall continue to be true,what we know to be false shall
continue to be false.
And the truth is that the vision that was laid down 12,000 years ago and
has been kept through the shedding of the blood of millions of men, women and children in
thousands of wars, is the one truth, the only possible reality and the only one that can
be accepted.
To fall from reality is to fall from grace.
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Nicholas Sand was taught a secret process, a sequence of actions so dangerous, so
overwhelming, that they can only be performed away from the eyes of the crowds, in hidden
forests that others only whisper about. The product of these actions is a trace, an
engraving in the fabric of nature that can seek out the most intimate regions of your mind
and open them up to the infinite worlds, the storms of possibility in which you washed for
certain moments when you were young (but you were taken away to dry and rest, "forget
about the storms you saw, they never happened").
When you live in the storms, reality is another word for adventure and in the sky there
are faces where others see
clouds.
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LSD is a structure, a code, an equation. Its component parts are found in the air you
breathe, the food you eat, the people you talk to (LSD resides in Conti's brain,
surrounded by little attack dogs, drooling with hunger). When these common components are
arranged in a certain order, hooked together like a jigsaw puzzle, they become a message.
The message says:"Open your eyes. Look around you. Wake up."
The cold monster says that this message can't be spoken. Only ineffective
communications are allowed, only those that won't threaten the age old system, the rotting
bars of the ancient cell, the one phrase that is repeated over and over through the
loudspeakers of the world:
"Don't look, don't wonder, keep on believing what we say."
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LSD is heat, a kiss of hot energy saved on a tiny piece of paper ready to
be released into the frozen pathways of the nervous system and explode into visions,
memory, myth and that understanding that goes beyond the dry words (food for mice) that
hide in libraries and instead finds its way to the roots of your being, altering forever
what you once thought was unquestionable, beyond doubt. Such a kiss is a gift. A
gathering of beings who have received this gift with open arms form a boiling pot, a true
cauldron of creative energy, ready to look beyond the given and touch reality with
prodding fingers, no longer afraid to poke holes in its surface.
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And some who receive this gift are not content with being the ground for this flow of
electricity, coming down from unknowable heights. "If I am kissed, I must kiss
back. I must give back what I've been given. What I now know, I cannot keep to
myself."
And so the gift, the forbidden structure, the equation that refuses to simply sit there
and wait for something to happen, is spread from hand to hand, mouth to mouth; a silent
network of light slowly crawling across the world.
There are millions who have been touched, and millions who are just waiting. Waiting
for that generous mind who won't be content with being open but who will turn around and
open other minds in return.
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| Nicholas took the stone (that same one that others had
searched for) and flew with it, traveled into the land where bodies become conduits, minds
become circuits and to love is to give endlessly, no matter what the price. The monkeys
(the ones that sit on benches and the ones who elect them) are primates and they are bound
to bite the hand that feeds them. And yet some people will continue to feed them. Here
lies the secret. |
Thank you, Nicholas Sand.
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