Well, this week has churned up some interesting iterations. I was working on 2 stories of the late 70's but I derailed myself per a request from a dear friend for a book introduction. Therefore, I present you something from the substacks that I have at hand. (some of you may have read this before)
You can approach this piece as a tale of sorts, or not. It is based in large part on my work with DMT & 5Meo-dmt.
I first experimented with DMT in the summer of 1967. So I've been aware/ around the substance for quite a while. I have a few more tales from this path, of course.
The story is a step away from what you've been reading on my sub stack you can approach it as a work of fiction if you like as it is couched in fictional terms. It is though based on experiences that I have had either within the psychedelic realms or in the realms of the occult where I delved for years.
And on that note I would like to present Gate Keepers.
“Here comes another one”
The swarm converged on the gate, awaiting the arrival.
They readied their appearance. It was the kind thing to do with the larval forms when they stepped into the realm.
The being popped through the gate. The performance began. The Gate Keepers went into their routine, keeping the being occupied on this side of the next gate. It was over quickly as the larval being was pulled back to where it had come from. Another success. It was easy, fun and it kept the natural order of things in place.
They re-coalesced to their primal form; fields of light.
It was becoming more frequent for the Gate Keepers, and it was becoming harder to reform back into the whole as they were given to do. The larval beings were growing more impatient with the state of being that they were being held in, only a few over countless generations had made the jump to the second gate and beyond.
That was changing though, the assaults on the first gate was becoming more frequent. The hierarchy surely must know what was going on, even those in attendance upon the great ones? The Gate Keepers kept to task though, being it both rewarding and thankless it seemed.
The Larvals were coming up with new and novel ways of storming the gates on a more frequent basis. The Gate Keepers were not without compassion, they themselves were tied to the task that they themselves were seemingly assigned to. Everything, every being had its place in the measure of things. That was the way it was. The Gate Keepers, the Watch Makers, the Archons, and those above.
Everything cycled. These events with the Larvals had been occurring with more and more frequency over the last 70 or so cycles of the gravity well that they were held in. It was a choice assignment for the Gatekeepers, of all the gravity wells, this one was perhaps the most beautiful.
The Archons and the ones above had cultivated the gravity well's fields of consciousness for untold millenia; siphoning off the symphony of emotions and desire that the Larvals emitted. New and unique tools had been developed to keep the harvest yield high; the Watchmakers would locate especially receptive Larvals and implant ideas and concepts that would fruit and give the most yield. Philosophies, religions, political systems, economic forces all were brilliantly implanted into the dreaming Larvals consciousnesses to great success; assuring levels of discomfiture that would perpetuate a growing harvest to their benefit. True, the larval forms would finally exhaust them at the end of their life cycle and they would obtain a form of liberation, yet even this had been manipulated with fear, and the re-birthing of their monads. Some would indeed escape the gravity well, but others would be held back by anxiety of extinguishment, and the ceaseless incarnations.
As the news of this success spread, more of the upper hierarchy descended around the gravity well participate in the harvest, with the breeding programs introduced by the innovations of agriculture, priestcraft and the state, more larval forms were created to fulfill the quotas. All was well, all was battened down nicely.
Yet, it was a constant task keeping the larvals in a state of sleep. Like all beings, their native fields were of light, and though they were submerged into the gravity well and the encasement that they manifested and expressed in, all seemed to long for or try to express their native state. No matter, with the power of the Archons and those above, the captive breeding programs were in the main a success. Even when the captive would adapt within the parameters of the systems that were designed to hold them in thrall, new innovations would be introduced to sway their attention back.
It seemed to the Archons that there was elements of instability occurring. Some of it was native to the Larvals surely, but other elements seemed to align with them. Certain other lifeforms previously ignored in the gravity well were lending assistance. These wild cards seemed to emerge from the flora in most instances. Other forms of instability gave signs of outside interference, The Archons directed the Watchmakers to introduce new concepts to the governing and religious forms of the larval hierarchy, repression, incarceration, witch hunts and the like ferreted out the stray larval hives that were causing the imbalance. At first there was much success. For some 2000 cycles with sporadic outbreaks these occurrences died down in one part of the gravity well, in others it had no effect at all. Lately in the last 70 or so cycles the control was breaking down every where regardless of the efforts of the Archons agents best efforts.
It seemed that even on the molecular level that new keys to the gates were being introduced. Some of them so small yet powerful that the repression had to be carried out against the chemical building blocks in their various forms. This indeed was novel, but it seemed that when all was almost back in control, new and unique escape molecules would emerge. The repressions were increased, but to little avail.
All of this the Archons seemed to take in a matter of course. The Watchmakers were ever weaving new mechanisms to push the harvest even further, and to the Gatekeepers, the longing and the emotions of the larvals was a feast that was slowly changing in depth and composition, and complexity. The Larvals inventiveness was growing more strident, and taxing on the Gatekeepers attentions.
The Watchmakers: Always busy, busy, busy. Weaving dreams, facilitating and fabricating cultural impulses, religions, economic systems and various fads. They worked closely upon their Larval host, most often not even recognized as existing. Some of the more developed Larvals felt their presence, but subscribed the presence to ancestors, of ghost images, the Muse, inspiration, creativity. What the Watchmakers were best at was weaving sleep, deep patterns of sleep that surged across the seascapes of emerging consciousness in the gravity wells' billions of larval forms. The Watchmakers thrived here. They fed directly off of the various host forms. They loved zones of conflict. They could whip the Larvals up into self immolating frenzies of emotions and concepts. Wars and Religions were their forte, as the harvesting could go on for 10's and 100's of cycles.
As the Larvals mutated the Watchmakers were there to insure that no matter what, sleep would prevail. A Larval would seemingly come up with an idea independently, and the Watchmakers would manipulate the signature of the idea so that rather than expanding outward, the idea would loop and negate. Sometimes the Larvals would adapt faster than the Watchmakers, and at that juncture the Watchmakers would stimulate the deep sleeping Larvals with fear and death impulses, directed at the new ideas, and create conflict on all Larval levels. It was a clever game the Watchmakers played; they had manipulated spiritual drives into religion and priesthood, family and tribe into Government, and so on.
Keep the Larvals at the same stage of constant ferment, and they would produce the emotions and states that all could feed upon. It had been like this throughout all of the cycles, but the Watchmakers were aware that the Larvals were evolving in their responses to the manipulations. More and more of them were mutating, and seemingly finding allies distributed within the various biomes. The Watchmakers were becoming aware of various distributed presences, that were entering into the Watchmakers collective awareness. Beings that had easily been unrecognized as their signature was distributed across the collective flora signatures. The Watchmakers had communicated their growing awareness of the emergence, or recognition of these revealed beings to The Archons, but The Archons seemed to be unperturbed, concentrating more on The Larvals harvest of emotions, passions and fears. Beings whose emotions seemed constant or if not existent held no interest for those that feasted in other fields of consciousness, and because of that, the mutations were occurring at exponential rates among certain cliques and populations of The Larvals. If fields of light and consciousness could despair over events and mutations, The Watchmakers were not going to communicate their aggregated concerns.
For beings that held sway over so much, they were fairly simple and non-complex. Their composite existence was one of expressed dominion and subjection of so called lesser beings on one side, and the maintainers of order and cohesiveness on the other. Their presence in the world was so pervasive that most beings in the gravity well were completely unaware of their beings. Of course over the ages their transparency had faded to some of The Larvals of a certain bent, recognized as divine beings, gods, goddesses, angels, demons. Of course The Watchmakers had a field day with these situations, manipulating The Larval impulses for the benefits of those that harvested... The Archons felt little for the subjugated beings. Their roll was to provide nourishment, and that alone.
Sometimes the Archons could assemble themselves into corporeal form and walk among The Larvals. This was the height of absorption, The Larvals wove detailed myths and stories about these encounters, not knowing that they were being manipulated to pour out emotions of love, desire and spiritual longing. The tales of these brief encounters were passed down over the ages orally, and later inscribed into volumes that were treated with reverence and ascribed as being holy. Truly, The Archons had a talent for cruelty and glamour if nothing else.
How can you describe beings that have lived throughout the Aeons? Beings so ancient, yet almost congealed in their stasis of purpose. Beings that had devoted themselves to such singular purposes that over the vast ages were indistinguishable from their goals, their appetites and expressions. Unyielding, unrelenting and almost omnipotent in their desires.
Amongst The Larvals:
Scenario: Low lights, a group of Larvals sitting around one lying prone... The one lying prone is slowly writhing, moving their hands upward as if warding away a bright light.
"How are you, are you okay"?
"Oh, oh. oh.... I was right there almost there. I was breaking through, and they swarmed again." "I lost my focus, watching their antics. My god you should of seen them, they came pouring through the crystalline structures, bouncing, dancing madly everywhere."
"But they distracted you?"
"Yes, I lost focus."
"Another hit? Would you like to go again?"
"Perhaps I should. I keep feeling if I just go deeper I can break through. I see this light, and I keep going for it but they appear, and it is just overwhelming."
The gathered Larvals heaved a collected sigh. At that moment, their disappointment, and desire were palatable, the emotions swirling around the vision that they had come to share.
"Okay, lets go again...."
The preparations were made. Soft whispers, hands touching the brave ones brow. They settled in around, and meditated together. Then, one hit. Another. Then the rush... Arcing up into crystalline fragments of consciousness, the Larval perceived the great light. Around it scurried the myriad Gatekeepers, frantic over this latest incursion.
"I, I, I, I...." the Larval vocalized, writhing in the rising fires and then it swelled into the light, bounding past the Gatekeepers into it's native home, unfettered, in ecstasy.
The sessions had been going on for several days, by combining ancient meditation techniques and the plant extracts. The Larval was able to go deeper into the realms with the combination. The Gatekeepers were in a panic, the Larval was passing them completely as if they weren't ever present. Time and again the Larval was making breakthroughs and was only hampered by the short duration of the extracts. Still, the Larval was able to sustain the stay in the realms longer using the meditation techniques.
"I'll go again" he vocalized to his sitter. He felt a pressure to do so, an urgency he'd not experienced before. He realized that he was beginning to map these regions, and was starting to understand tat it was more than "the inner journey". The space, the realm was... "inhabited". He sensed the Gatekeepers were there to distract, but for what reason? It was all a puzzlement to be gone over, again and again.
"The pipe is ready" said the sitter. That moment of trepidation, of dread, of fear washed over him. "Thanks, does it get easier, ever?" The sitter smiled, and slowly shook their head signing that it did not.
"No, the dread goes on, and grows, you just have to work through it."
The Larval took the pipe and inhaled, once, twice and as the extract took hold the outer world disintegrated into an auditory hum that grew and grew whilst the universe became a vast crystalline artifact, spinning and contracting; immense beyond measure, glorious. His consciousness dilated again as the Gatekeepers began their frenzied performances, he burst past them into what appeared to be a tunnel going deeper and deeper into the realms of the artifact.
It was almost physical, the buffeting, motion and speed of the journey, and before he realized it he exploded into a great chamber, full of light and was startled to behold a vast being sitting before him in what seemed to be meditation, with multiple arms not unlike Vishnu though the arms were shaped almost like tentacles which as he beheld them beckoned to him. Nothing had prepared him for an encounter such as this; within the great immensity both beings reflected upon the other, one in awe, the other in what appeared to be serenity.
As quick as he had entered he departed back, rushing into the gravity well, to his body lying upon the mat on the floor, dazed with visions echoing throughout his consciousness.
The two Larvals sat quietly after the session. "There is was, at the end of of the tunnel, vast, immense filling space in a great colonnaded chamber." "Was it one of the Gatekeepers?" the sitter asked. "No, I don't think so, a being of a different magnitude all together." They sat in silence, musing over the vision together. "What do you want to do?" "I must go in again, I have to understand ."
The preparations were made, the lights dimmed once more, quiet music. The sitter measured the extract into the pipe, smiling as he did so. He chanted to himself as he readied the pipe, concentrating on the voyage to come.
One toke, another, and then the final one as the great humming came down and the universe crumbled into fractals of crystalline wonder and an infinity of patterns. He opened his eyes for one second, just long enough to see his friends face smiling, fading off into the void.
The rush was greater than before, The Gate was manifesting, taking on a form or a symbol that he felt he recognized. His self was shattering, diminishing and as he came up to the portal. The Gate Keepers were frantic, they rushed forward in their myriads vying, dancing, morphing as they came for first time he thought he could feel their vocalizations, or what seemed to be so.
The gate loomed, he streamed past them in their hundreds, thousands, 10's of thousands he heard and felt a great keening rising up from them. The gate was there, the great voids of light just beyond.
The keening had taken on a plaintive note and hesitating at the gate, his consciousness turned back, surveying the great host surrounding the gate.
An understanding welled up through him. As they guarded the gate, they could not go through. "They're trapped" entered his thoughts, each Gate Keeper that he viewed as part of the great hordes, coalesced into a form of nodal realities, each on discreet, whole into itself. Each discreet being yearned for liberation, for what lay beyond the gate.
Within his field of thought he found a deep sense of compassion for the Gate Keepers welling up and out of his heart. It mutated into a wave of purple light that emanated outwards from his center washing over the Gate Keepers. The Gate Keepers ceased their dance, hovering in that space taking in the light. Then as one, they sent it back, full of love, and gratitude. There was a moment of suspended time of shared bliss between the Larval & The Gate Keepers. A moment where their shared consciousness spelled out a different plane of existence.
Slowly, and then more rapidly the consciousness of the Larval pulled back into the gravity well. He came back to his body, laying there weeping for what had been experienced. The sitter comforted him as best as possible; something had changed that reverberated through the Larval's being. As the Larval went about his life for a full lunar cycle after, he could feel the light and emotion pouring out of his heart. Slowly with time, it faded but not forgotten.
The Gate Keepers though were changed, no longer static in their roles. The Watchmakers sensed it and there was a growing disquiet amongst them as well. Everything that had been held in stasis for so long was now starting to move. The Archons were shaken more than at anytime. Once again another being had made it's appearance within their realm without any alerts. Once more a Larval had perceived the entity, and the golden road that led from out of the gravity well.
All was change, and the cycles were disrupted.
The illustrations that I put up with this story came from the work I was doing with DMT in the 1990s and early 2000s. You can find a couple of them on Gwyllm-Art.com
Much of the publicity given to DMT actually concentrate on “The Watchmakers” (my term of course) and not what lies beyond them. I can pretty much lay that at the feet of Terence McKenna who brilliantly described the first level of DMT encounters. In a future sub stack I will flush this out a bit from a conversation I had with Terence in the late 1990s.
Not all the stories that I'll be telling deals with drugs just to let you know... ;p In early 1968 I stepped away from psychedelics until May 1977… I have frequently stepped away from these wonderful substances for years or decades at a time. They come back into my life when I am at a point of transition and change… These “drugs/keys/entities” have helped me on multiple levels on where to concentrate, where to investigate, where to repair attitudes… past memories etc. One of the gifts of Psychedelics is what you do after you come down. As one of my old teachers told me, “It is in the work where clarity & new challenges emerge.”
I will be adding more stories as they come, and there will soon be the option offered for subscriptions, which will entail writings, and art for those who want to support this project.
I hope you enjoy this leave me feedback if you like.