My Cosmology: "Fruit Born of Separation"

March 2023. Acrylic.

I made this painting almost immediately after the THC-induced trip I referred to in my Tracking Saturn Through A Lifetime blogpost.

To preface, I am the lightest of weights you will ever meet in your life. I rarely drink and when I do I am tipsy halfway through a second drink. My past prescriptions mostly were at the lowest or second lowest doses. At this point in my life that I am recalling, I smoked cannabis so infrequently I knew nothing about dosages.

So when you are physiologically like this, having a friend halfway across the country who has never smoked with you misread the label on your edibles and recommend you 40 mg of THC is a lot.

I went to bed that night intending for the edibles to knock me out cold and instead woke up 2 hours later realizing something was off. I would call what followed for me hallucinating except the very first thing I experienced was a very strong beam of light coming from the sky and going through my crown Middle Pillar-style and then another one going through my third eye. Both points tend to play enormous roles in my sober every day psychic activities and having once regularly practiced the Middle Pillar, the beams of light seemed quite real.

Shortly thereafterward, I was transported into a different state of consciousness, or existence, than I had ever experienced before. That plane appeared to be something like Kether as described in Kabbalah or otherwise the Platonic realm of forms. I tend to think the Platonic realm of forms is a little more accurate given the experience with language I had this night, which I am going to describe a little later in this post. Overall, this plane was ethereal and conceptual. There, everything in the world seemed like separate moving parts to a larger flow. There was certainly a sense of everything having a purpose and being where it was meant to be, including myself.

In fact, it was like a lifelong veil had lifted. While in this plane, I did not consciously make choices, instead it simply became Time to do things such as message certain people. I have noticed this seeming lack of choice in waking hours as well, such as one time when I decided to go on a walk but then found myself physically forced to turn around, to an almost comedic effect, to take my car to the body shop. I was under the impression then and have been since that that is how we as beings operate all the time. Additionally, as an astrologer who is familiar with the natal charts of those I reached out to that night at ungodly hours, it does seem like I was fulfilling transits of theirs, especially since they all immediately responded.

Language was really interesting in this plane because while I am a writer and have strong planned long-form verbalization, I am generally very insecure about my conversational style. I use vocabulary and phrasing in ways other people find odd and find myself frequently misunderstood or asked for clarification. But while sending these messages, this was not a problem. I marveled at the process of funneling these very large concepts and motions into smaller, limited words—which I could see had clear unique qualities that made them the best choices—and I was also able to understand and judge the timing of what I said so it all had the right effect. As a magician, it did feel like words were spells.

Philosophically, I already knew that language was clearly not part of this "higher" place because of my previous reincarnation explorations. Claircognizant revelations I have had while sober and living my every day have immediately indicated to me that I spoke different languages in my other lives and this colored my experiences as much as my cultures, environments, bodies, and social statuses. I did not get the sense that the limitations of language were an indicator of life in this material plane (Malkuth if we want to call it that, from Kabbalah again) being lesser as much as it is another creative way for experience to occur. I recognize as I write this that my past life explorations will need their own future blog post.

At some point during the night, what we could call the climax, I looked up and I saw two enormous entities. These entities were once everything to each other, parent and child, siblings, teacher and student, lovers. But One had turned away from the Other, perhaps forgotten them, leaving a chasm between them. I could see in the center of their chasm that that was where we all were as living beings and that their separation was our separation from every other living being. We were the stories Other was telling One in order to try to heal this chasm of loneliness.

That's how I ended up making this painting, trying to depict those two. Based off the content of one of my messages, I have come to calling them the Co-Writers in recognition that the system, flow, and collaboration of two or more people writing together is the same process as how these two entities created our universe. One of the friends I messaged that night seemingly found a few stories and RPGs referring to these two entities. I have another friend who years prior to my experience witnessed two very similar beings while on a high dose of THC themselves. For my own part, I have tried to contact the Co-Writers multiple times since to no avail. I think, as is postulated by some hermeticists about the One, they may be too large to notice or respond to my attempts at connection. I am just grateful that they are still writing.