Altered States - Lent 2022: Day 35

Into the fifth week of Lent; going without alcohol or meat is a doddle (though I'm looking forward to an IPA with single-malt chaser, then a medium-rare beef steak and red wine on a separate occasion). Alcohol alters your state of mind in a way that's familiar, and as such not mind-bending; it's a trip where you know where you're going, and you know the way back. You've done it often enough.

I'm currently reading Michael Pollan's This is your Mind on Plants (Christmas present from Moni) - in particular the section about caffeine - our other familiar drug. Unlike alcohol, which I imbibe now far less than I used to, coffee is a daily staple that I cannot do without. Just the one, big wake-up jolt a day, every day, without exception. I've managed three or four Lents without caffeine but the dislocation was too much to bear - crashing headaches as a withdrawal symptom, then bouts of inexplicable anxiety upon return. Sticking to one coffee a day (two is a rarity), I can start the day with an altered state of mental clarity and alertness that lifts the nocturnal mind-fog. I'll drink the coffee hot (boiled water goes to heat the coffee cup before the coffee goes in), black, unsweetened and strong (three heaped scoops into the espresso machine). I am looking forward to it as I go to sleep.

Dreaming is another altered state. Since the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I have temporarily (I hope!) paused my nightly dream diary; when waking in the night, I need to get back to sleep quickly before I start worrying about the horrors befalling our neighbours, or about a genocidal madman with his finger on the red button. I am tending to dream of war most nights, but I'm not noting the dreams, I let them pass, unremembered. I hope this nightmare will pass and the good people of Ukraine can go back to living in peace, unmolested by Putin's Russia.

Dropping off to sleep is a precious altered state, one to cherish. As sleep takes over from the waking mind, a strange melange of half-processed memories, daily concerns, action points for the morning swill around - pick one out consciously (doing so brings you back into the wakened state) and it melts like a snowflake - that concern was entirely fictitious - a protoplast of dreams to come, maybe. Daydreaming can bring about this state too; time is required to sit comfortably in a deckchair, head and neck on a pillow, and a good view of the sky, with passing clouds (not overcast), ideally with birdsong in the background. Meditating on the sky I find is a wonderous experience, bringing back memories of childhood and beyond. I find cloudscapes extremely evocative of times past. Bright blue skies too, winter or summer. 

My favourite alcohol-inspired altered states - the ones with the most profound spiritual aspects - come when I'm returning home after a summer night on the town. Units of alcohol - between ten and 12 (after 13 units come the Helicopters - not a pleasant sensation), a full stomach (a good meal is essential to soak up the units) - and a summer sky. I am transported to another time, another place. Here's a good example, nicely captured. And a similar sensation, from 2007. Note in both the distinct 'past-life' feel; the mind's normal constraints liberated by a goodly dose of alcohol.

This time last year:
Normal blogging resumes after Easter

This time two years ago:

Coercion, persuasion, conversion and faith

This time three years ago:
My father at 96

This time four years ago
My father at 95

This time five years ago:
Happy 94th to my father...

This time six years ago:
Happy 91st to my father!

This time nine years ago: 
My father at 90

This time ten years ago:
An independent Scotland - what if?

This time 11 years ago:
Królikarnia

This time 14 years ago:
Happy 85th to my father!