Over one Labor Day weekend a number of years ago, my wife and I attended a three day conference at the Three Mountain Sanctuary.

The Three Mountain Foundation was founded by Richard Moss, M.D., and follows his principles of teaching. Richard Moss was once a practicing physician, but abandoned his practice when he discovered the value of the healing energies within us. Since that time he has devoted his efforts to discovering and teaching others how to get in touch with these energies and make them manifest in their lives. See Chapter 6, Note 5.

He has taught well, and we found this three day conference a powerful transformational experience. The staff has worked out group exercises and programs them in such a way that the group energy and level of love keep building to a climax on the last morning. I suspect that for many of the participants, they become aware of this level of energy for the first time in their lives.

And the same may be said for the level of love in the group. By the end of the conference, every member is practically in love with every other member of the group. Again, I doubt if they have ever experienced this level of love previously in their lives. So profound are the feelings that one cannot help but sense that the entire activity is divinely guided, and all of the exercises, practices, and activities are for the purpose of releasing divine energy into the world.

Out of the some twenty-five persons present, there was only one that I felt was a possible subject for our research, and with whom I cared to share the knowledge of our activities. His name was Jackson.

We broached the subject to him, and found him interested but frightened. We left it open for him to arrange for a visit to us if and when he desired.

We thought little more of it, so we were surprised a few days later when Jackson called and was rather desperate to come out. He was quite shaken up by the fact that Peggy, his live- in girlfriend of four years, had decided to abandon him. The reason was that Jackson had never been able to make up his mind sufficiently to make a commitment to her. She loved him and was a beautiful partner, but she had grown tired of his ambivalence and wanted out.

Jackson was quite stressed, which I didn't feel was the ideal state to participate in our research. After a few days he sounded better, and we agreed to see him.

Jackson proved to be a fascinating individual, and working with him turned out to be an extremely instructive involvement.

I had been drawn to Jackson because he was quite bright, articulate, and seemed deeply committed to his personal growth. I had overlooked many other factors, which began to become clear as we visited the day before our experiment. I had not given due credit to his fear, or to his pickiness. It turned out he had a variety of allergies, and was so fussy about his food that he had brought his own to the Three Mountain Conference. In the pre-day getting-acquainted talks, I began to see that he had constructed an amazingly effective system of self-defeat, which would turn every incident and development against himself.

Yet I had enormous faith in MDMA, having monitored a large number of experiences with no sign of any ill effect. So with my knight-in-white-armor attitude, we set forth to help rescue Jackson from his various dilemmas. What is that old adage about fools?

On the following day, Jackson takes 120 m.g. of MDMA. Jean takes 110 m.g., and I take 12 m.g. of 2C-T-2. This has become my favorite substance for accompanying others on the MDMA journey. It allows me to experience quite fully what the subject is going through, without the irritating effects that MDMA has on my prostate condition.

The ascent is nice, the energy rising pleasantly. We are in a good space in thirty minutes. Jackson feels the energy and responds well. We talk. At one point I happen to mention to Jackson that he isn't listening to me as I speak. This is the match that lights a bonfire. It starts by Jackson immediately losing his poise, and descending into the darkness of his bitter self-criticism.

He immediately embarks on the tale of his childhood woes. He is an extremely sensitive, delicate creature, and he was subjected to awful indignities by both his parents. He felt totally unloved, and manipulated purely for his parents' ends. He was constantly given orders for behavior, and his mother even had him wear a leash. His father was extremely authoritative, insisting on having his own way even if it took physical abuse. He hates both parents bitterly.

His younger brother by four years was not exempt from his ire, since the brother re ceived what little attention the parents had to offer. Jackson is very much taken with getting as deeply as possible into his feelings, especially in the presence of two people devoted to careful listening. He brings up much anger.

At the hour-and-a-half point, Jean takes a 40 m.g. supplement of MDMA, Jackson 50 m.g. My dose of 2C-T-2 will last all day.

Jean is well centered, enjoying the experience. Jackson continues to get into his feelings. He has the most carefully constructed mechanisms of self-destruction I have ever witnessed. For example, he is starving for love. Yet he detests anyone who gives him affection, for they must be stupid indeed to love a miserable soul like himself. He refuses to do anything for anyone, because if they truly cared for him, they should do things for him with no expectation of return. In fact, the thought of doing anything for anyone else makes him extremely hostile.

What is there about a person which allows him to become so crippled? Were his family really that awful? Is he simply a remarkably sensitive person, crushed by the slightest fear of disapproval? Is there some enormous karmic burden that dictates that he must use every opportunity to punish himself until his inner debt is paid? These are great mysteries, but the bottom line is that Jackson isn't going to relinquish self-punishment without an enormous struggle.

Jackson is a very bright person, did very well in school, and passed the CPA exam with flying colors. But now he hates doing accountant work. With these proven skills, could he be so afraid of personal failure that he is frightened of assuming any personal responsibility? It is a remarkable dilemma, and promises an extremely busy day.

Jackson is determined to thoroughly examine his feelings, so Jean and I sit quietly by. At one point his rage is so enormous that I feel he can't properly discharge it except against some opposition. So I agree to pin him to the floor, and let him take out his anger against me. He is a small, slight person, and I am much bigger. Nevertheless, he has enormous strength, and becomes a mad, raving beast. It takes all of my strength to keep him pinned down. I am very glad that we have agreed to no violence, as occasionally when he slips out of my grip, he allows himself to be pinned down once more.

He discharges enormous anger in this way, but there seems to be no end to it. Yet he shows great courage and determination to get to the bottom of things. But I do notice that his attention span is only a few seconds.

So when he asks for a second supplement (I had mentioned the day before that other materials might be available), I suggest it might be best if he devoted the remainder of the day relating what he has learned so far to his life situation and the world around him.

But he claims that he is right on the verge of an important breakthrough. Ah, the perfect hook for me! How I would dearly love to seem him end the session with his feelings resolved, and ready to go back into life with new understanding and reserves! I had conveniently forgotten a situation twenty years earlier which had demonstrated how disturbed clients elicit your cooperation by this ruse of being on the edge of a breakthrough.

I agree a supplement might be useful; he immediately becomes frightened. We go back and forth on this for a while until I become convinced that he really wants to use more chemical, and I think it would do some good. So 5-1/2 hours into the session, he takes a supplement of 6 m.g. of 2C-T-2. I take the same to lighten the load I am feeling.

Jackson continues pretty much in the same vein, getting up much anger, at times appearing very beast-like. I give him a chance to role play with his parents, I taking the part of first one and then the other. This allows him to express more anger. I tell him that one day I hope that he can do this directly with them.

In the late afternoon we talk Jackson into taking a walk outside. He is reluctant, but accepts our suggestion. He finds it beautiful outside, and gets into some wonderful positive energy. However, he is quite weak and occasionally sinks to his knees. I feel it is his tendency to sink into inner experience. He has almost no faculty for taking command and making decisions or carrying out actions to overrule his feelings. He feels he is a bottomless, empty pit. I suggest that he fill it himself. He can concentrate on this only a short time.

I hope he will discover how desperately afraid he is to find out how much he acutely desires love. He shows little sign of this, so I begin to become more directive. I wonder if he felt helpless with his parents, and he looks at this. We discuss the importance of the rational mind, and the importance of being able to follow one's reason over emotions, the ability to act despite feeling fear, resentment, or other negative feelings. During the walk, we practice the ability to drop the inner workings of the mind and pay attention to what is around us. He succeeds somewhat and at times.

I share how important it was for me to learn gratitude and appreciation. He realizes that he never does. He is able to see the surrounding drama of the countryside, and appreciate it for a while. He acknowledges that it was good to go outside and experience the outdoors.

We discuss forgiveness. Back in the house, he goes inside himself and is able to forgive his mother, father and brother. There is much pain and realization, particularly with his brother. He recognizes his parents' limitations, and how he used his own unhappiness to create misery for his brother. He is beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel; he can experience some euphoria, good energy.

Feeling that he is much stronger and insightful, I mention that I see him as very consuming in his relationships, that it is no wonder Peggy is leaving him. He begins to get it. His initial response is to always feel hostile, as it is very difficult for him to take any advice or suggestion. I suggest he has to grow out of this and look at the reality of the situation: what is really going on? He needs to learn that everything is not an attack on him; he is the one who changes it to an attack. He should look at things on their merit. He requires complete retraining in this regard, as his patterns are so heavy and deeply set.

He has made much, much progress. I am on the sofa in the living room, and tell Jackson I am hungry, will he please bring me a bowl of soup. He says, "Get it yourself!"

I am flabbergasted. I say, "Good God! I have stood by you all day, answered your every wish, and now you can't even bring me a bowl of soup?!! I don't give a damn how you feel, I want some soup!!"

He gets it, and finds out it feels good to do so.

He wants to discuss his relationship with Peggy. I role play with him. He is still very torn. Now he understands how awful he has been; he discusses going back and serving her. Yet he still feels some repulsion in being with her. We discuss the possibilities -- his fear of intimacy, his unwillingness to care enough to have to do something for someone, his fear of discovering his own self-hatred. We retire with this issue unresolved.

Jackson spends a sleepless night, and the next morning he is still unresolved about Peggy. He would like to go back and plead for her to stay with him; he will promise to change. But in his heart he still can't make the commitment.

I suggest he stay with us another day. We take a hike and do some good talking to integrate our experience. He comes to peace with the outdoors, and begins to feel much better.

Jackson showed an enormous amount of courage and persistence in facing his inner demons. The problem of now resolving them in his life will be the biggest task he has ever faced. The next few days will be the hardest. If he gets through them okay, I believe he will steadily gain strength.

Jackson returned home still ambivalent over his course of action. But this was settled by Peggy, who insisted on leaving. This was a hard blow for Jackson. Fortunately he had some friends and teachers whom he could rely on for support. But he had an agonizing time coming to terms with his experience and the blow of separating from his partner. He was in constant touch, and for a while was living on the edge. He gradually pulled himself together, and in time was able to return to a productive profession. He is now happily married and helping his new wife to raise her son.

Ralph is a very competent industrialist from New York. In his early sixties, he has accumulated substantial wealth through his creative designs and products produced by his company. He was visiting the Three Mountain Foundation, and upon hearing my name, wished to visit. He has had a long-standing interest in psychedelics, and has managed to share experiences with a number of the outstanding figures in this field.

We found him to be a very positive, energetic person, who much preferred talking to listening. He requested to participate in our research. I did not encourage him, for although he has had many outstanding experiences, there was little evidence of his incorporating his insights into his lifestyle.

But he was persistent and stayed in touch. He furnished evidence of important changes taking place in his life, and I was feeling guilty over my judgmental attitude and unwillingness to help when asked. So we set a date for an experiment.

In briefing him the evening before, I told him that he needn't bother with the tape recorder he always used. He continually carried with him tape recordings of previous sessions. These were recordings of beautiful, highly inspirational wisdom of the most profound sort. Many were the kind of aphorisms one might wish to supply to an aspiring seeker of enlightenment. Ralph obviously got much pleasure in playing these for people, and it was clear that part of his feeling of superiority rested on the outstanding perceptions revealed in these utterances.

Ralph was quite taken aback by my suggestion. I asked him if he would not prefer this time to concentrate on incorporating such truths into his lifestyle rather than just listening to the recordings. He agreed.

The next morning, Ralph takes 20 m.g. of 2C-T-2. Jean and I accompany him with 12 m.g. each. I stay light so that I do not get caught up in my own dynamics, and can be of maximum support.

As the experience develops, Ralph gets quite uncomfortable. He experiences a great deal of anger, which I encourage him to release. Later I look at him and see enormous fear in his eyes. I ask him if there is anything he is afraid of.

He replies that he is afraid of going crazy. I say, "All right. Go ahead and go crazy. Assume this living room is a padded cell. I will be the padding, and not let you do anything destructive, either to your self, anyone else, or anything in the room."

These words flowed spontaneously from me, and I knew I didn't dare to stop and think about the possible implications. Ralph is a good deal larger and heavier than me, and I might have my hands full. Yet I felt a strong inner confidence, and had no hesitation in proceeding.

Ralph begins to roar, emitting aggravating, bellowing sounds. He is pouring enormous feeling into his roaring. It takes a strong heart not to be frightened. He begins to gasp, and it looks as though he might throw up. Jean runs for a plastic bucket from our utility room and puts it in front of him. I encourage him to throw up in the bucket. He heaves and heaves, making deep, retching sounds, without expelling anything physical. After a few minutes of this the sounds diminish. Ralph seems spent and sits down to rest, looking out the window.

Ralph reports that an amazing thing is happening. As he looks out of the window, he hears his own heart beating. Then he realizes that his heart is beating in synchronism with the central heart of the whole universe. The whole universe is beating together!

Then he realizes that he and the universe are one, and he begins to sob. He is filled with joy, and the ecstatic feeling of being in harmony with all that is. He feels totally freed from all previous discomfort; he has achieved that most precious realization of which man is cap able, the state of Union with All There Is.

Ralph is overjoyed. In spite of having had many outstanding experiences in the past, he had never before experienced this level of realization. He is filled with wonder and gratitude.

Simply being present to share this experience is very gratifying. There is a deep satisfaction in being open to inspiration, and knowing that things have worked out well.

I do not know how well Ralph has retained this experience, or how it has affected his day-to-day life. I do know, however, that it is an experience that cannot be forgotten. I cannot help but believe that in some way, even without conscious encouragement, the effect of such a contact with the Numinous creeps into our values and our thinking and our action.

There are places on the surface of the earth which people call "Power Points." The locations are invested with special significance, and it is claimed that they make available to earnest seekers aspects of Reality not ordinarily perceived.

I admit that there have been some special locations, like St. Paul's cathedral in Rome, and even some locations in nature, where I have sensed something special. These places have had an unusual impact on me. But in general I am afraid I am rather impervious to these energy fields and perhaps the ideas behind them, as exemplified by the fact that I feel nothing particularly special about the claimed vortexes in Sedona, Arizona. However, it is impossible to deny the impact of the outstanding beauty of the whole Sedona region.

If there are such things as power places, then Death Valley National Monument in California must certainly be one of them. And if it is, it must be because of the outstanding human events that have occurred there. Some of the foremost occurrences of my life have taken place at Death Valley. These have transpired while riding or driving through the valley under the influence of an outstanding sacrament. For this purpose, I know of none better than Sandoz's LSD.

If outstanding events, or powerful feelings, or being overcome with reverence, wonder, and beauty, can leave an aura like Sheldrake's description of morphogenetic fields, then Death Valley is surely a power spot. I have had many such occurrences there, and I am in clined to believe that our continued profound experiences do build up such fields, as being in the valley is conducive to furthering such experiences.

This was driven home all too well in the following event. Our friend Max was visiting us, and when other invited guests failed to show up, it seemed an ideal time to introduce Max to one of our favorite journeys. It had been some while since Jean and I had conducted anyone on this tour. Years ago we used do it rather frequently. But we discovered that for a well-focused experience, it didn't make much difference where one was, and the comfort of our living room avoided many miles of driving. Yet for the candidate who is ready to take advantage of such an experience, the Death Valley tour is very difficult to beat.

And this was a very special occasion. We are very close to Max and have excellent rapport. And Max is a very eager and appreciative explorer.

We embarked on our journey, giving Max a full measure of what we deemed appropriate. Jean took one-half this much, and I took half again, agreeing to do the driving. I planned to take a like amount once reaching the valley floor, with the difficult part of the drive behind me.

There is always the question of whether the amounts chosen are adequate, considering such things as the aging of the substance and the possible psychic resistance of the imbiber. In twenty minutes I was feeling very little and beginning to get worried. Then Jean broke through and reported that she was quite intoxicated. Not too long after, Max was swept away, finding his dose as powerful as what he would ordinarily expect from three or four times the amount he ingested.

For myself, it was very slow coming on. By focusing on stillness and holding my mind quiet, it accentuated the progress of the chemical. I began to feel it more and more intently, and by the time we crossed the Panamint Valley, it was so intense that I wondered if I would supplement.

As we drove up toward Towne pass, moving into the remarkably colored mountains of the Panamint Range, the beauty grew greater and greater in intensity. There came into view an unusually sculpted, exposed section of mountain which my friends affectionately call "Myron's Grotto." It never fails to move me to tears. It is shaped like a huge grotto, with a pinkish-white, rough rock background. Carved out of the wall are many tall figures, in dark pinks and reds and whites, standing looking out over the Panamint Valley. To me they always appear as the guardians of Death Valley. They stand at the entrance inviting us in, and assuring our safe and worthwhile journey. They are the custodians of the higher regions, and as we pay them due respect, the treasures of the valley are revealed.

Now verbal descriptions become totally inadequate. Only the most artistic, articulate use of words can begin to convey the remarkable sights we behold. The mountain cliffs are saturated with color, and the formation of the gorges and weathering patterns unfold an endless variety of stunning visuals, each more beautiful than the previous. We are overwhelmed by the amazing variety of form, surface, and color. Somehow some deep hunger inside of us is assuaged by this massive variety of input, flooding us with beauty.

The beauty slackens as we reach the top of the pass, where we are surrounded by just ordinary grassy slopes. But descending the other side, the massive vista of the valley comes to view. Here is an amazingly broad expanse of flat surface, whitened by the remains of past floods of water. The water has long since evaporated, leaving behind the mineral deposits which mark its former presence. On either side of the valley rise mountain ranges with tumbling, distorted layers of sedimentary rock, in many places tilted by underlying igneous intrusions. The mountains are carved into a great number of narrow canyons, the result of endless eons of constant weathering. Everywhere is the same continuing variety of color, so that no matter where you look there is interest and beauty. And in the heart of the expanse of the valley floor are bare, wind-swept dunes of the finest, pure sand.

But the best is yet to come. Approaching the sand dunes, I take my supplement. Shortly after that we come to the area where the pupfish spawn. In the heat of the summer, when every trace of water evaporates, these remarkable little fish bury themselves in the mud and hibernate through the summer and winter. In the spring when water returns to the deepest sloughs, they come to life, bubble up, and swim into the water and spawn.

Jean and I had once visited here with two good friends to observe this phenomena. They were program writers for the company I then managed, Multi-Media Productions, Inc., a company that made sound filmstrips. The emerging of the pupfish was photographically recorded for a program they were producing. Viewing this area focused me on the company, and I sank into some miserable feelings. This was a very poor outcome, I thought, of taking the supplement.

But I remembered the various devices I have learned to get away from uncomfortable feelings. First I looked to see why memories of Multimedia made me uncomfortable. I saw many good things that had transpired, particularly the contributions of other people, that I had failed to acknowledge. I now did so, and this released my feelings. It was like unresolved karma that needed redemption. Now I could turn my attention to my surroundings.

Once more I focused on the stillness, held my mind steady, and began to appreciate the beauty of the valley floor. Like turning on a huge faucet, feelings of love and energy began to swell within me. As long as I stayed focused, these feelings rose to enormous proportions.

Now we turn south on the road that leads to the Artist's Drive. This part of the drive is particularly spectacular. The mountain range to the east descends until it extends into the valley in long, weathered mounds, almost like huge paws of giant animals kneeling, facing the valley. These hills are solid, fine dirt, deposited by the run-off from the higher elevations. Again the colors are remarkable, being all shades of chocolate and brown, with some light cream colors occasionally thrown in. The road is very close to the foot of these hills, and the intimacy makes them all the more spectacular.

At last we turn into Artist's Drive. We climb steadily to the very foot of the vertical cliffs overlooking the valley. Whatever I said before about colors, shapes, and beauty, is completely swamped by what we now face. It is absolutely indescribable. The colors are brilliant -- fiery reds and pinks and greens and purples. But the textures -- the textures are unbelievable. Surfaces full of holes of all shapes, thin sculptured layers of rock that look like veils, contours and shapes and surfaces never before seen, all alive with ever-changing color. In our state of clarity everything stands out in the most minute, remarkable detail. The beauty is overwhelming, and we are simply undone. We cannot look at such beauty without crying and crying. We are beside ourselves with joy and ecstasy. It seems that nothing on earth can equal the sights we are beholding, or match the deep stirrings of our souls that are taking place. We must summon enormous strength to be able to continue to watch it. The car moves slowly on, constantly revealing new surfaces, new colors, new vistas. It is almost more than one can take.

We crawl along for several miles, looking at one breathtaking view after another. And we are in the midst of it. You can almost reach out and touch some of the phenomenal formations. What magnificent artist assembled this astounding collection of visions? How did all of this beauty come to reside in this particular place? What greater evidence could one possibly wish for the astounding creator of our world? And how could one possibly express sufficient gratitude for this amazing experience we are privileged to undergo? Overwhelming, overwhelming, overwhelming.

We finally reach the Artist's Palette, and stop to pull ourselves together. We are still in the presence of an amazing variety of colors, and they are exhibited at this location in greater intensity and variation than anywhere else. Behind the remarkable display which is near the viewing point stand the tall mountains with their variety of formations and splashes of various hues. Beyond the Palette these huge cliffs provide an endless exhibition of wonders to be examined.

The drive continues through intimate hills and formations. Some look, as Max suggests, like Italian ices, with the flow of different flavorings poured over the mounds. Others have smooth, glassy, bubbly surfaces as though water were running down over them. And around some turns the high mountains in the background become visible, alive with colored patterns that according to Jean look like the designs on multi-colored Indian skirts.

At last we are at the end of Artist's Drive, and we return to the main road fully satiated. The sun is now getting low, and long shadows are creeping across the valley. But the surrounding mountain ranges take on new appearances in the soft, warm light of the setting sun. As we drive across the valley with the vistas spread before us, a new, soft glow overtakes them. This is the glow of our inner being, fully content, basking in the love of our mutual warmth, reflecting on all that appears before our eyes.

Throughout this astounding journey, I have numerous occasions to be grateful for various things I had learned in previous journeys. I am blessed to have a sense of the Presence, which as I pay attention to it, comes more intimately into awareness. I am grateful for my Tibetan Buddhist meditation training, which has helped me learn to hold my mind still, thereby offering the space for other dimensions of reality to present themselves. I am grateful for the ability to look with love and appreciation without manipulation, as only in this way can the more profound levels of energy, meaning, and radiant love reveal themselves. And as we depart the valley, once more passing the grotto, I become aware of the countless wise and enlightened ones who have gone before, and only wait to be asked to direct their love and support to enormously enhance our realization.

I have described in the beginning of Chapter 10 the particular joy of journeying with special friends.

Two of our good friends are a remarkable pair. Edward is a kind, gentle, extremely sensitive soul who is practically a saint. He is deeply committed to the Divine, and lets very little stand in the way of his devotion. He is studious, well-read, and thoroughly grounded concerning the world's religions and spiritual literature.

His companion, Larry, is a totally different personality. He is a dear, gentle soul, -- young, handsome, and warmhearted, a lovable comrade. Thoughtful, attentive, sensitive, he is always right there with support and assistance to anyone who may be experiencing discomfort. His own mind is very fluid so that he easily moves through different states of experience.

They live in a beautiful home in a wooded area at the foot of a commanding mountain. They have made their home an idyllic retreat for friends seeking respite from the tumult of modern civilization. Truly imbued with the spirit they strive to manifest, with discerning taste they have created a beautiful, restful, inspiring environment. Their garden is laid out tastefully with flowers in every nook, a beautifully designed mandala composed of brick laid in the soil, and plantings of trees and shrubs to provide a peaceful setting intimately in touch with nature. Restful vistas look over rocks, colored earth, and towering mountains in the background. The slightest breeze creates whispering among the branches in the surrounding trees.

Inside are tastefully selected furnishings, skillfully placed to provide for comfortable listening to music or for interpersonal discussion. Selected artifacts blend color and interest to provide archetypal connections to a higher state of awareness.

Best of all is the way each visitor is treated as a highly honored guest. Almost every need and wish is anticipated and fulfilled. Exquisite meals are provided with the same care and taste in preparation, so that each meal is gourmet.

I know of nowhere where one can be better treated than at the hands of these two caring, solicitous individuals.

Jean and I always look forward to a visit with our very good friends. Taking their spiritual dictum seriously, they always see us as manifestations of the Divine, and treat us accordingly. For persons like myself who are attempting to reach such a state of functioning, Edward and Larry are inspiring models. It is a great privilege to be on the receiving end of such genuine attention.

For our last visit they had a special treat in store for us. We piled into their van, which had been well prepared with food and supplies for our journey, and we took off for Canyon de Chelly. There Jean and I took a room in a comfortable motel. There was still enough daylight to drive around the rim of the canyon and examine some outstanding views.

I have seen many spectacular places on earth. In the past I rated first the Artist's Drive at Death Valley, viewed in the afternoon sun. Then came the Grand Canyon, and close on its heels the magnificent country surrounding Sedona. But all of those fade in ranking beside the grandeur of Canyon de Chelly.

The Canyon has a color close to the marvelous pinks of Sedona. But the high, sheer, massive cliffs, the sculpted walls, and the isolated towers of vertical rock depict a stateliness and might transcending that of any of the places I have seen.

The canyon walls are striking in every direction. Each turn reveals new faces, sculpting, and formations. Below the massive walls is a flat river bottom, covered with trees and cultivated fields. We are at the peak of fall, so that the trees are illuminated in brilliant fall colors -- yellows and golds and pinks. It is pure magic to look over this inspiring landscape.

In the morning we hire a guide and walk down into the canyon. It is thrilling to step over the weathered, colored rock. At places we cannot see a path past the rapidly descending rocks, but our guide carefully picks the way. In some unusually steep locations, footsteps had been carved into the rock to allow safe passage.

At the bottom of the canyon, we can appreciate the high canyon walls in all of their magnificence. Simultaneously we walk past colorful cottonwood trees in their fall brilliance. The river bottom is dry, but the very fine sand and the numerous rocks strewn over the valley floor reveal their own display of the Supreme Artist's craft. The canyon floor is cool, but pools of sunshine offer opportunities to bask and throw off the chill.

As we walk, ever new faces, images, and massive sculptures come into view. Most anywhere on the canyon floor we are content to simply sit down and look. We could spend hours in any one spot examining the various surfaces of the cliffs, the structures and weathering patterns, the figures that can be elicited from the rocks. Overhead the sky is crystal blue, but with unusual wispy, curly clouds floating overhead that carry their own revelations of meaning. On many of the high ledges are the famous cliff dwellings where civilizations once resided.

Exposure to all this grandeur and beauty, in the presence of intimate friends, cannot help but unleash one's spirit to soaring heights. With this barrage of light and beauty, do we dare to enhance the energy with a sacrament? We do.

It isn't long before I begin to doubt the wisdom of this move. We were in a remarkable, loving state, bombarded with beauty. As I begin to feel my old initial discomfort on starting a sacramental journey, I wonder if I'm not being too greedy. This feeling intensifies as I become more and more uncomfortable.

A number of realizations come flooding in. My body is getting more uncomfortable, yet we had told our guide about ruins we wished to reach that were several miles away. I begin to think about the comfort of our living room, and how nice it is to be completely undisturbed and simply relax to the experience.

Then there is our Indian guide. A young man of around twenty-two, he is obviously moody and unhappy with life. When we had gone to the Visitor's Center that morning to select a guide, he was the only one who had gotten up early enough to show up. It was obvious that Edward relied a great deal on my judgment in making this important selection. At the time I saw nothing wrong with him, and approved his enterprise in being there early.

He no doubt is very sensitive, and begins to pick up my uncomfortable feelings. He is concerned with my age, and whether I can manage the steep descent, or for that matter the long walk. The more uncomfortable I become, the more unhappy he looks.

I find myself amazingly disturbed by the presence of our guide. I feel his unhappiness and judgment to the extent that it is spoiling my experience. Once more I deeply appreciate how in our work we have created a safe, comfortable environment, free of distractions, which allows the subject unrestrained experience. As my discomfort continues to grow, I too long for a situation where I can simply let go and be free.

My discomfort becomes excruciating. I yearn to collapse on the ground and allow my feelings to flow out and dissipate. I stop frequently to sit down and relax, and get some measure of release. This very much disturbs our guide, who worries about my physical condition. He obviously does not want the responsibility of over-taxing an elderly person. He gets more and more impatient as he sees that we are not going to make our destination.

Finally he says we must hurry, as he has an appointment to see a sick person in the hospital in the early afternoon.

At first I am even more uncomfortable, feeling the time pressure. Then I begin to wake up. I begin to realize how much I am allowing the guide to dictate my experience. Here we have driven hundreds of miles to take advantage of what Edward and Larry no doubt consider the greatest experience they can provide for anyone. Instead of appreciating the outstanding beauty and all that they have done to make this journey possible, I am fretting over pleasing our guide! I can feel Edward's deep disappointment in the miserable experience I am having, and in my concern with the attitude of our guide.

Feeling more myself, I speak to the guide. "When we hired you, you didn't mention any previous appointment. We don't care about any particular place to get to. We want to take our time. We've come a great distance to see this canyon, and we may want to take all day to enjoy it."

I speak in a firm tone of voice, and the guide immediately becomes contrite. He says that we may take as much time as we wish -- all day if we like.

I feel very relieved with this settled. Both Edward and Larry are glad that I spoke up. >From this point on I am more relaxed and begin to free up from the disturbing feelings. It is not long until the rewarding aspects of the experience begin to manifest, and I drop my uncomfortable feelings and turn my attention to the surrounding grandeur. Yet somehow the guide has deeply affected me, and I am aware of his distracting impact throughout the day.

Now a most marvelous transformation is taking place as the sacrament takes effect and all of my senses dramatically open up. This results in what must certainly be as much impact of light, beauty, and meaning that the human frame can stand. Each moment is absorbed in eternity. The wonder of the Supreme Artist overwhelms the conditioned mind. It is only by letting go of all preconceptions, values, dictates, that the mind can flow sufficiently free to begin to embrace the wonders being revealed.

All senses become wide open. It becomes apparent that everything in our surroundings can expand into new dimensions of detail, beauty, and clarity. From the minutest blade of grass to the huge walls of the canyon, I can observe a striking array of detail. The closer I look, the finer is the detail. I must surrender and open myself to allow this enormous expansion of input into consciousness. This results in a sublime feeling of release and exultation as I become increasingly in touch with new worlds of input.

To apprehend the worlds of new data, my own being must expand to encompass them. My individual self and its notions of personality are rapidly transcended to encompass the grandeur of the myriad dimensions of creation. What an exalted feeling!! How in the world can one find words to describe such a bombardment of overwhelming, exultant beauty?!! It is impossible to describe the privilege and the gratitude of being treated to such celestial glory.

At one point Edward and I confront each other. As we gaze at one another, I observe layer after layer of conditioning being stripped away until I am looking at the very radiant core of Edward's being! Again, words fail to describe the incandescent resplendence of this remarkable sight. We stop when we can no longer master the strength to hold steady before such splendor.

Later after climbing out of the canyon, we are back at our motel. We are sitting together on a little patio, looking out over comforting trees and lawns and up at a sky filled with wondrous clouds. The clouds are forming and reforming in magical patterns. We are reviewing the events of the day. As we sit and talk, the bonding among us deepens, and we feel utter contentment and gratitude.

I am drawn to the clouds. They always pull me out of myself and invite my participation; they promise rewarding excursions into new dimensions. I know I must be perfectly still. Fortunately I am able to do this. As I hold still explosions of energy take place, and images fly by. It settles down to stability, and in the stillness a new energy creeps into my being and fills it. Again I realize that it is in the stillness that God can become manifest. By being still, I provide an avenue for Him to enter the world and make His presence known. His presence is a burning fire of love. Holding still, I can allow this love to flow into the world and burn up the dross that encumbers mankind. How this is done and to what extent I do not know. I only know that this is the most wonderful and satisfying thing I can do, and brings me into exultation. In some mysterious way I cannot understand, I am confident that it opens a door somewhere for others to touch an exalted state.

This seems to me the best hope for the world. Ignorance, self-interest, and destruction are preceding at such rapid paces around the globe, there is no certainty that our civilization can be rescued. But if it can, it will most likely be by those who are willing to become channels for this Divine love and hold steady against the pain, suffering, and ignorance of mankind. If enough join this enterprise, then I am convinced that sufficient light can be brought to bear to eventually help people wake up.

I take a good look at Edward. During the day I had become aware of how he holds off a certain amount of glory by not considering himself worthy of accepting the full impact. As I look at him I see a beautiful, magnificent being, a true saint, totally committed to God's work. Over the ages he has brought truth and inspiration to those who are searching. His kindness, gentleness, and wisdom mark an outstanding being, radiant with love. I have no right to criticize or judge in any way this remarkable man. I need only acknowledge his fullness and greatness and divine nature. And as I think about it afterwards, this is the best I can do for any person.

As I edit this writing a month later, the impact of the whole experience returns. Different surroundings, the energy fields of different persons, have a way of eroding the grandeur of this outstanding experience. Now I am very grateful I have written up this experience, as just reading it over brings back the glory and privilege of this remarkable event.

1. Sheldrake, R. The Presence of the Past; Morphic Resonance and the Habits of Nature. New York: Times Books, 1988.