Peyote Quotes

One fast move or I'm gone,' I realize, gone the way of the last three years of drunken hopelessness which is a physical and spiritual and metaphysical hopelessness you can't learn in school no matter how many books on existentialism or pessimisn you read, or how many jugs of vision-producing Ayahuasca drink, or Mescaline take, or Peyote goop up with -

With the Black Company series Glen Cook single-handedly changed the face of fantasy—something a lot of people didn’t notice and maybe still don’t. He brought the story down to a human level, dispensing with the cliché archetypes of princes, kings, and evil sorcerers. Reading his stuff was like reading Vietnam War fiction on peyote.

It was raining in the quadrangle, and the quadrangular sky looked like a grimace of a robot or a god made in our own likeness. The oblique drops of rain slid down the blades of grass in the park, but it would have made no difference if they had slid up. Then the oblique (drops) turned round (drops), swallowed up by the earth underpinning the grass, and the grass and the earth seemed to talk, no, not talk, argue, their comprehensible words like crystallized spiderwebs or the briefest crystallized vomitings, a barely audible rustling, as if instead of drinking tea that afternoon, Norton had drunk a steaming cup of peyote.

Really? So you brought home a vampire? Cool. (Starla) I’m not a vampire. (Talon) ’Not exactly,’ he said earlier. What’s not exactly a vampire? (Sunshine) A werewolf. With his aura, it makes sense. Wow, Sunny, you found yourself a werewolf. (Starla) I’m not a werewolf. (Talon) What a pity. You know, when you live in New Orleans, you expect to meet the undead or damned at least once in a while. (She looked back to Sunshine.) You think we should move? Maybe if we lived over by Anne Rice we might catch sight of a vampire or werewolf. (Starla) I’d be happy to see a zombie. (Sunshine) Oh, yeah. You know, your dad said he saw one out on the bayou right before we got married. (Starla) That was probably the peyote, Mom. (Sunshine) Oh. Good point. (Starla)

One fast more or I'm gone', I realize, gone the way of the last three years of drunken hopelessness which is a physical and spiritual and metaphysical hopelessness you can't learn in school no matter how many books on existentialism or pessimism you read, or how many jugs of vision-producing Ayahuasca you drink, or Mescaline you take, or Peyote goop up with-- That feeling when you wake up with the delirium tremens with the fear of eerie death dripping from your ears like those special heavy cobwebs spiders weave in the hot countries, the feeling of being a bent back mudman monster groaning underground in hot steaming mud pulling a long hot burden nowhere, the feeling of standing ankledeep in hot boiled pork blood, ugh, of being up to your waist in a giant pan of greasy brown dishwater not a trace of suds left in it--The face of yourself you see in the mirror with its expression of unbearable anguish so hagged and awful with sorrow you can't even cry for a thing so ugly, so lost, no connection whatever with early perfection and therefore nothing to connect with tears or anything: it's like William Seward Burroughs' 'Stranger' suddenly appearing in your place in the mirror- Enough! 'One fast move or I'm gone' so I jump up, do my headstand first to pump blood back into the hairy brain, take a shower in the hall, new T-shirt and socks and underwear, pack vigorously, hoist the rucksack and run out throwing the key on the desk and hit the cold street...I've got to escape or die...

I would rather go mad, gone down the dark road to Mexico, heroin dripping in my veins, eyes and ears full of marijuana, eating the god Peyote on the floor of a mudhut on the border or laying in a hotel room over the body of some suffering man or woman; rather jar my body down the road, crying by a diner in the Western sun; rather crawl on my naked belly over the tincans of Cincinnati; rather drag a rotten railroad tie to a Golgotha in the Rockies; rather, crowned with thorns in Galveston, nailed hand and foot in Los Angeles, raised up to die in Denver, pierced in the side in Chicago, perished and tombed in New Orleans and resurrected in 1958 somewhere on Garret Mountain, come down roaring in a blaze of hot cars and garbage, streetcorner Evangel in front of City I-Tall, surrounded by statues of agonized lions, with a mouthful of shit, and the hair rising on my scalp, screaming and dancing in praise of Eternity annihilating the sidewalk, annihilating reality, screaming and dancing against the orchestra in the destructible ballroom of the world, blood streaming from my belly and shoulders flooding the city with its hideous ecstasy, rolling over the pavements and highways by the bayoux and forests and derricks leaving my flesh and my bones hanging on the trees.

The historic transition from Novice to Proficient to Adept was said to be accomplished virtually overnight by the progression from marijuana to peyote to lysergic acid. Instant mysticism had arrived. Before the court of law, hippies demanded freedom for LSD the way early Christians demanded freedom for the Eucharist.

That night, when Graham, Karen, and I did peyote, I remember telling myself that if the album was shit, I was gonna be okay. Because I could make spoons for a living

It was like washing down a bucket of peyote with a vatful of absinthe.

The Doper's Dream Last night I dreamed I was plugged right in To a bubblin' hookah so high, When all of a sudden some Arab jinni Jump up just a-winkin' his eye. 'I'm here to obey all your wishes,' he told me. As for words I was trying to grope. 'Good buddy,' I cried, 'you could surely oblige me By turning me on to some dope!' With a bigfat smile he took ahold of my hand, And we flew down the sky in a flash, And the first thing I saw in the land where he took me Was a whole solid mountain of hash! All the trees was a-bloomin' with pink 'n' purple pills, Whur the Romilar River flowed by, To the magic mushrooms as wild as a rainbow, So pretty that I wanted to cry. All the girls come to greet us, so sweet in slow motion, Mourning glories woven into their hair, Bringin' great big handfuls of snowy cocaine, All their dope they were eager to share. We we dallied for days, just a-ballin' and smokin', In the flowering Panama Red, Just piggin' on peyote and nutmeg tea, And those brownies so kind to your head. Now I could've passed that good time forever, And I really was fixing to stay, But you know that jinni turned out, t'be a narco man, And he busted me right whur I lay. And he took me back to a cold, cold world 'N' now m'prison's whurever I be... And I dream of the days back in Doperland And I wonder, will I ever go free?

I’ve done peyote in Real de Catorce, Mexico, in a cage with a mountain lion. I’ve had seventy-eight stitches sewn into my forehead, by a veterinarian. I’ve had four concussions from falling out of four trees, three of them on a full moon. I’ve bongoed naked until the cops arrested me.

Walking back across the St-Esprit bridge, to the ghetto I'd instinctively gravitated toward, I mentally erected a more appropriate statue on the square. It would depict an unknown Sephardic Jew, kneeling over a stone tripod covered with crushed cacao beans destined for a cup of chocolate for one of the gentiles of Bayonne. It would be a symbolic piece, executed in smooth, chocolate-hued marble, and dedicated to all the other forgotten heroes--coffee-drinking Sufi dervishes, peyote-eating Native Americans, Mexican hemp-smokers--who, throughout history, have faced the wrath of all the sultans, drug czars, and Vatican clerics who have resorted to any spurious pretext to squelch one of the most venerable and misunderstood of human drives: the desire to escape, however briefly, everyday consciousness.

peyote. Peyote is illegal in the United States at present. It is classified as a Schedule One drug—right up there with heroin—and the mistake begins right there, for peyote is a harmless cactus to which addiction is virtually impossible and to which not a single misdemeanor (let alone felony) has ever been traced. When we place this record alongside the ravages of alcohol the picture becomes surrealistic. Because alcohol is the sacrament of the dominant religion of the land, it passes muster; but peyote is “their” sacrament, so it does not.

Imperial is like Robert Caro’s The Power Broker with the attitude of Mike Davis’s City of Quartz, if Robert Caro had been raised in an abandoned grain silo by a band of feral raccoons, and if Mike Davis were the communications director of a heavily armed libertarian survivalist cult, and if the two of them had somehow managed to stitch John McPhee’s cortex onto the brain of a Gila monster, which they then sent to the Mexican border to conduct ten years of immersive research, and also if they wrote the entire manuscript on dried banana leaves with a toucan beak dipped in hobo blood, and then the book was line-edited during a 36-hour peyote séance by the ghosts of John Steinbeck, Jack London, and Sinclair Lewis, with 200 pages of endnotes faxed over by Henry David Thoreau’s great-great-great-great grandson from a concrete bunker under a toxic pond behind a maquiladora, and if at the last minute Herman Melville threw up all over the manuscript, rendering it illegible, so it had to be re-created from memory by a community-theater actor doing his best impression of Jack Kerouac. With photographs by Dorothea Lange. (Viking has my full blessing to use that as a blurb.)

The Indians who use it as part of their ceremony might with equal accuracy call it a 'de-hallucinogen,' since it's their claim that it removes the hallucinations of contemporary life and reveals the reality buried beneath them.

She had a significant following in Paris, where a group of hashish-eating daredevils, under the leadership of Dr. Louis-Alphonse Cahagnet, had been experimenting with monster doses (ten times the amount typically ingested at the soirees of Le Club des Haschischins) to send the soul on an ecstatic out-of-the-body journey through intrepid spheres. It was via Parisian theosophical contacts that the great Irish poet and future Nobel laureate William Butler Yeats first turned on to hashish. An avid occultist, Yeats much preferred hashish to peyote (the hallucinogenic cactus), which he also sampled. Yeats was a member of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn and its literary affiliate, the London-based Rhymers Club, which met in the 1890s. Emulating Le Club des Haschischins, the Rhymers used hashish to seduce the muse and stimulate occult insight.6 Another member of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, Aleister Crowley, was a notorious dope fiend and practitioner of the occult arts. Crowley conducted magical experiments while bingeing on morphine, cocaine, peyote, ether, and ganja.

Vatika has several other related meanings in ancient Etruscan. It was the name of a bitter grape that grew wild on the slope, which the peasants made into what became infamous as one of the worst, cheapest wines in the ancient world. The name of this wine, which also referred to the slope where it was produced, was Vatika. It was also the name of a strange weed that grew on the graveyard slope. When chewed, it produced wild hallucinations, much like the effect of peyote mushrooms; thus, vatika represented what we would call today a cheap high. In this way, the word passed into Latin as a synonym for “prophetic vision.” Much later,

This issue was joined in a dispute over protection for the free exercise of religion that first divided the justices and then became the source of conflict between the Court and Congress. In a 1990 decision, the Court had withheld protection from individuals who claimed that their religious beliefs required an exemption from a generally applicable law. In that case, Employment Division, Department of Human Resources of Oregon v. Smith, the Court ruled that American Indians who used the hallucinogenic drug peyote in religious rituals were not constitutionally entitled to unemployment benefits when they were fired for violating their employer’s rule against drug use.

Vatika has several other related meanings in ancient Etruscan. It was the name of a bitter grape that grew wild on the slope, which the peasants made into what became infamous as one of the worst, cheapest wines in the ancient world. The name of this wine, which also referred to the slope where it was produced, was Vatika. It was also the name of a strange weed that grew on the graveyard slope. When chewed, it produced wild hallucinations, much like the effect of peyote mushrooms; thus, vatika represented what we would call today a cheap high. In this way, the word passed into Latin as a synonym for “prophetic vision.” Much later, the slope became the circus, or stadium, of the mad emperor Nero. It was here, according to Church tradition, that Saint Peter was executed, crucified upside down, and then buried nearby. This became the destination of so many pilgrims that the emperor Constantine, upon becoming half-Christian, founded a shrine on the spot, which the Romans continued to call the Vatican Slope. A century after Constantine, the popes started building the papal palace there.

Drugs are a trap and give no real advancement. You could liken drugs to driving to the store for groceries and then saying you just exercised. Yes you felt renewed or even enlightened, but then you have to go home again.

Eye of newt? Ragweed? Mold off your bathroom floor? Peyote?

I liked hashish the few times I’ve tried it, found it fascinating,” Oliver said. “Of course Huxley’s written about the heavier stuff, peyote and mescaline, but even a bit of any mind-expanding drug can reveal a lot. Small wonder society tries to ban it. Too much illumination and people might find a way to connect the dots, they might start wondering why doughboys are dying to protect barons’ bankbooks. Can’t have that.

When I was in Mexico, I was told how mescaline was extracted from the peyote cactus.

Peyote has been used medicinally in many different contexts by several Native American cultures. The Tarahumara of northwest Mexico held long-distance races from

It was raining in the quadrangle, and the quadrangular sky looked like the grimace of a robot or a god made in our own likeness. The oblique drops of rain slid down the blades of grass in the park, but it would have made no difference if they had slid up. Then the oblique (drops) turned round (drops), swallowed up by the earth underpinning the grass, and the grass and the earth seemed to talk, no, not talk, argue, their incomprehensible words like crystallized spiderwebs or the briefest crystallized vomitings, a barely audible rustling, as if instead of drinking tea that afternoon, Norton had drunk a steaming cup of peyote. But

Do you want to eat Peyotl and human flesh on the path to spiritual enlightenment? Or just for the hell of it? Join the ancient cult of Anasazi.

All of the most advanced civilisations have been at the forefront of self-abuse: the Romans and their wine, the Greeks and their symposiums, the Mayans and their peyote, the Sumerians and their opium, the West and their 24 hr nightclub movement, the tobcco testament, the gospels according to ganja, heroin and horse tranquiliser, caffeine and cocaine.

a young Harvard student, traveled west to Oklahoma to live among the Kiowa and participate in the solemn rites of the peyote cult. In one photograph the land appears as a blur of dust, the sky fading to gray, the air darkened by soil worked loose by the wind, the farmhouses

As recently as 1991, the Supreme Court upheld a Washington State ruling outlawing peyote. Freedom of religion, as I said before, seems to apply only to whites. For

All the hallucinogen drugs are considered sacred by those who use them -- there are Peyote Cults and Bannisteria Cults, Hashish Cults and Mushroom Cults - "the Sacred Mushrooms of Mexico enable a man to see God" -- but no one ever suggested that junk is sacred. There are no opium cults. Opium is profane and quantitative like money.

I think it was Ben Franklin who said, 'Inspiration is 45% peyote, 45% fever dream, and then 35% neurosyphillis;

The oblique drops of rain slid down the blades of grass in the park, but it would have made no difference if they had slid up. Then the oblique (drops) turned round (drops), swallowed up by the earth underpinning the grass, and the grass and the earth seemed to talk, no, not talk, argue, their incomprehensible words like crystallized spiderwebs or the briefest crystallized vomitings, a barely audible rustling, as if instead of drinking tea that afternoon, Norton had drunk a steaming cup of peyote.

Pero ninguna de esas sustancias era la prioridad genuina de los cristianos y los burócratas que inventaron la guerra contra las drogas como una Inquisición moderna por razones puramente religiosas. El objetivo de su cacería era el peyote.

The hemp plant entered Mexico, as we have seen, after Washington and other Virginia planters enthusiastically spread it around the southern United States. As early as 1902, anthropologist Carl Lumholtz observed that some of the Indians in northwestern Mexico were using its leaves in religious rites whenever the peyote cactus was unavailable. They called it rosa maria (Rosemary) but whether they anthropomorphized it and considered it a goddess (like Peyote Woman) is not clear. In the Tepe-hua region, rosa maria became santa rosa (Saint Rose), but elsewhere it became maria juana (Mary Jane) – and, hence our modern name, marijuana. Under the latter title it was celebrated in the famous marching song of Pancho Villa’s rebels during the Mexican Revolution of 1910-1920:

This no longer surprised me. I had seen other such cases since Jane had toiled her way upward through hashish and peyote in desperate search of feelings. I even had a rule-of-thumb about it: Frigid women and Marxist men were the ones who required the heaviest doses to turn on. I assumed that this had some connection with the chronic muscular tensions holding back emotions that the Reichian and Gestalt psychologists discuss.

The present Supreme Court attitude – which allows peyote to Indians for their ceremonies, but denies similar drugs to whites and blacks of similar sincerity – is transparently racist and discriminatory, but that is no reason to assume that it will change in the near future. This battle has already continued into the third millennium, and may linger on forever. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,” says the Bible; and the witches – those who prefer their religion of ecstasy to the Christian religion of austerity – are always going to have a rough time in Bible-thumping nations. After all, Genesis says that an angel was set at the front door of Eden to keep us out, and those who find chemical gimmicks to sneak around through the back door are always going to seem heretical.

These "bugs” or “orgones” seem to be relatives of the geometric light displays witnessed by people on peyote or its derivative, mescaline. They also appear in sensory withdrawal experiments, in which the subject is submerged in a tank of water and isolated from all outside stimuli; indeed, one stage of sensory withdrawal is called ‘mescaline” by the researchers because of this similarity. Alan W. Watts has suggested that what is happening in these cases is that the electrical patterns in the brain itself are being projected outward. Perhaps; but see, also, the lady in the last chapter, who found herself amid “the stars” while having an orgasm under the influence of marijuana. The vision of Nuit, the Egyptian goddess of the night sky and the stars, is the goal of Aleister Crowley’s sex magic, and he recorded in his most emotionally satisfying vision that the universe was “Nothing, with twinkles – but what twinkles!” Through such odd reports we might eventually trace an understanding of how bioelectricity converts into thought and mind.

Skinwalker Supper by Stewart Stafford Savage roaring in the night, The pack's hierarchy shifts, Listen close as the wolf yelps, Are now a shaman's chant. Lupine hymns to Luna Regina, Breeding pairs and rogue males, The shaman makes his potion, In flickering campfire flames. Smearing the odorous mixture, Across his body in peyote trance, The medicine man shapeshifts, A skinwalker's nocturnal rampage. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

Richard began to experiment with hallucinogens. LSD was still popular with America’s youth, and he tripped many times on acid. He also took magic mushrooms and peyote, which were both plentiful and readily accessible in El Paso. High, he’d go out to the desert at night and hunt by the light of the moon, imagining he was in touch with Satan, that Satan was communicating with him.

The oblique drops of rain slid down the blades of grass in the park, but it would have made no difference if they had slid up. Then the oblique (drops) turned round (drops), swallowed up by the earth underpinning the grass, and the grass and the earth seemed to talk, no, not talk, argue, their incomprehensible words like crystallized spiderwebs or the briefest crystallized vomitings, a barely audible rustling, as if instead of drinking tea that afternoon, Norton had drunk a steaming cup of peyote. But

Only people like us still kept a watchful eye on Lud’s Drum, because dimensional barriers in and around the town had been dangerously weak ever since Timothy Leary dropped a heroic dose of LSD and peyote there and tried to perform a remote exorcism on the Pentagon.

Peyote Made Everything Weird

At the time of his death, Crowley was taking heroin for asthma. It was a common medical practice at the time for doctors to prescribe heroin for asthma. He became addicted like anyone would. He later used heroin recreationally and sacramentally, as he did with many drugs including cocaine, hashish, ether, peyote, and pretty much anything else he could get his hand on to try. He was after all a scientist (he even trained as a chemist), a mystic, and a psychonaut. He, like Terrence McKenna, did utilize various drugs to explore consciousness.

Ergine (LSA) Ergine, or lysergic acid amide (LSA), is structurally similar to LSD with vaguely comparable effects. Users tend to find it more sedating, often nauseating, and generally less potent than LSD. However, at microdoses, it can boost mental clarity and focus while relieving anxiety and depression. It’s also naturally occurring and, while the compound itself is widely illegal, ergine-containing seeds are not. Morning glories and Hawaiian baby woodrose are among the best known plant sources, and both are legal to grow in the U.S. (except Arizona), the UK., and mainland Europe (except Italy). Common microdoses fall in the range of 5-15 morning glory seeds or 0.33-3 Hawaiian baby woodrose seeds. Usually, they’re chewed for about 20 minutes and held under the tongue to absorb the ergine sublingually. Mescaline Cacti are well known as some of the easiest plants to grow, practically taking care of themselves given the right conditions. And mescaline-containing cacti, such as peyote and San Pedro, are legal in most countries. Although peyote cultivation is restricted in the U.S. to members of the Native American Church (or Peyote Religion), San Pedro can freely be grown for ornamental purposes.