K-space for First-Time Travelers

Extremely intricate jigsaw puzzle that Allysen put together. Also, my trip logo.
This is k-space: Evocative music accompanies a twilight journey through landscapes of the mind… floating on a long voyage downstream through canyons, under towering cliffs, over rises of molten rock, through the depths of the sea and the starscapes of space. Faces loom and turn away or dissolve; some are familiar, and some are not. Some are reminiscent of the great statues of the kings overlooking the River Anduin in Middle Earth; some are weird aliens; some are family members. Soon the music gives way to another kind of song, the songs of blue and humpback whales. Spirit guides for the journey? More and more it has seemed that way. They are never seen but only heard, and sometimes their watery sounds give rise to the most unwatery of images.

The images are not the DayGlo posters of psychedelic space as I had imagined it, but vastly more subdued. I’m not even sure they can be called visions I have seen so much as images of the mind. Still, with practice, they have grown steadily more real. They range from near-photographic images of my childhood to SF art landscapes to Rorschach patterns and works of abstract expressionism.

This is not the k-space of interstellar travel, as described in my novel From a Changeling Star. Rather, it is the k-space of ketamine-assisted psychotherapy, or KAP. The home base: a couch, sometimes at my therapist’s office but usually at home, complete with blindfolds over my eyes, McDuff the dog (fellow traveler!) at my feet, a carefully curated playlist, and my watcher/transcriber seated nearby, taking down my thoughts and observations. The medium of interdimensional travel: prescribed ketamine, in the form of dissolvable lozenges. The goal: to acquire glimpses into the black box of my subconscious.

I’ve been doing this on and off for several months now—but for the last six weeks or so, almost weekly. Afterward, I write it up, for my own recall as well as for discussion with my therapist.

Ketamine (long used as an anesthetic) has seen growing use lately as a useful adjunct to psychotherapy, most notably in the treatment of depression. A family member had found it extremely useful in this regard, prior to my giving it a try as a treatment for creative block. My doses are produced by a local compounding pharmacy. I had to jump through all kinds of hoops to get medical clearance, in view of my pulmonary fibrosis. It does not seem to cause any issues.

It’s been a fascinating experience, although the first couple of sessions were disappointing, with little seeming to happen, either during or following. But gradually, perhaps because I was learning to relax into the experience, I began to see and hear more, and each session offered something different. Verbal prompts sometimes kick the experience in useful directions. The first handful of times, I was basically along for the ride, not saying much of anything, just trying to absorb whatever the journey had to offer. I was seeing images in multiplex, as though in several floating video windows. After a while, I thought, Why can’t I see this in full-screen? No sooner had I thought the wish than the image opened up to full Omnimax.

Most recently, I went interactive, talking about everything I saw, and even engaging in dialogue with some of the sensations. “What’s that, whales? Are you confused? Me, too. I need to learn your vocabulary…” Along with the interaction came an increase in emotional connection to what was previously a mostly intellectual observation. Connection is, I think, the key word for what I felt. I was teasing loose threads of emotion. I came out of that journey feeling energized and hopeful.

I said earlier that the goal of this was to acquire glimpses into the black box of my subconscious, with the ultimate goal to release blocked creativity. Am I doing that? I hope so. I’m at least shooting a current through that stubborn box.

On coming out at the end of one sojourn, I lifted the blindfolds to see a bristly looking alien creature peering at me from the foot of the sofa. I took a photo, but the wily creature manipulated the image to look like a Terran dog!

Quotes to Live and Work By

posted in: musings, the human mind 1

Lava lamp, cluttered

I came across two quotes today, and I liked them so much—they resonate with so much of my life—that I just had to share. I may put them on my wall.

“Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.”
—Winston Churchill

“If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?”
—Albert Einstein (maybe)

Myself, I would say that a cluttered mind is the playground of a hopeful writer.

Wanderers (of a Strange and Distant Time)

Want to be mesmerized for three and a half minutes? Open this on a good monitor, click the “full screen” icon in the lower right of this video, turn up the sound, and sit back and journey the solar system. See if you recognize the voice.

Thanks to Astronomy Picture of the Day for showing it to me. For more information about the film and scenes depicted, visit the website of Erik Wernquist, who assembled the film. A remarkable piece of inspiration.

And yes, my title line is a near-quote from the Moody Blues. Extra point if you can name the album, without looking it up.

Will It All End in Gloom and Doom? (or) What Kind of Writer Am I, Anyway?

Every once in a while, if you’re any kind of artist, I think it’s good to reflect on the question of what you’re trying to bring to the world.

I got an email the other day from a reader of The Chaos Chronicles. This fellow—let’s call him Q—had read and enjoyed the first four books (bless him), and was wondering about the next one, which I’m currently writing. Q wanted to know if I was intending to follow the path of other once-favorite writers who had let him down, saying:

“One class of authors have determined that you are not a professional writer unless you rip your heroes to shreds in the end.  [My once favorite] author subscribed to that theory and turned [his] protagonists into really rotten people ready to kill each other.” Was I planning, he wondered, to do something like that with my characters—and if so, could I let him know now, so he could save himself the trouble of reading my next book? 

Although I might not put it in such stark terms, I’ve noticed a similar trend in current entertainment. I can’t count the number of times I’ve read about the upcoming season of a TV show, or a sequel in a movie series, promising: “This next one will be darker. You’ll lose some people you love.” Examples include even comic book fare such as the Batman movies, and Superman (both in film and in TV’s Smallville). And I just recently read that we can count on the next Avengers movie being “darker.” Darker is better, so often goes the thinking. Frankly, I’m not a big fan of the trend. I don’t find it all that entertaining, or a particularly wonderful world view; and when it’s done just for the sake of being dark and not for sound storytelling reasons, I don’t see it as necessarily contributing much to the human endeavor.

Not that darkness is never warranted, or is always wrong. There are great tragedies, obviously. (Though on balance, I’m way more drawn to humor than to tragedy.) But in SF terms, take BSG, with which I was peripherally involved as a novelist. That certainly went dark and gritty, plumbing the depths of its primary characters’ pain. It was so well done, and for the most part justified psychologically, that I kept with it (though my daughter dropped out of watching it, saying enough is enough). Certainly there was realism in it: If your race has been nearly exterminated, and you with the final remnant are being pursued across space by an implacable enemy, things will probably get pretty dark. At the same time, there’s a fine line that divides dramatic exploration from wallowing, and at times I felt BSG sheared pretty close to that line.

So how did I answer Q?  Here’s what I said, more or less:

“I do not subscribe to the school of thinking that all roads lead to misery, or that all good characterization leads to corruption and degradation. Quite the opposite, in fact. I have viewed the journey of my characters as being one of growth and maturity. Obviously there’s sacrifice.  But if there isn’t a sense of hope and redemption at the end of the story, you have my permission to shoot every one of my characters and put them out of their misery. I don’t promise no pain, loss, or grief. But if something good doesn’t come out of the pain and loss, then I’m not doing my job as a writer, as I see it—which is to bring a ray of light into the world.  I do not want the reader to feel depressed at the end of one of my books.  Sad maybe, grieving at a loss maybe, but never dark or depressed. Uplifted, preferably.”

Think the end of The Lord of the Rings. There’s a kind of ending I aspire to.

Why do I feel this way? If I said it was because I think uplifting is better than down-dragging, healthier for life and better for us as an audience and as a planet, that would be true. If I said it was because I think God gave me some talent as a writer so that I could bring a little more light and life into the world, hope rather than despair, that would be true. If I said it was because those are the kinds of stories I want to read, that would be true.

So take your pick, whichever works best for you. They’re all me.

80 MPH and Other Questions of the Mind

posted in: quirky, the human mind 0

Apparently this video has gone viral, depicting a man asking his wife the question, “If you’re traveling 80 miles per hour, how long would it take you to go 80 miles?” He poses the question while (apparently) driving down the highway, aiming a dashboard camera at himself and his wife, and frequently mugging his amusement for the camera as his wife flails hopelessly, trying to answer a ridiculously easy question. (Hint: It would take an hour.)

My first thought was, bullshit. He just happened to have a camera above the steering wheel, and he aimed it back and forth while posing for it and teasing his wife…while driving? Really? Jeez, I hope not. For one thing, I wouldn’t want to be on the same highway with him. For another, what kind of jerk would humiliate his wife on camera, then put it on Youtube for the world to see? (On the other hand, if I see it as faked, then I find it very funny. How weird is that?) 

But…the husband and wife appeared on Good Morning America, and said this is just what happened. She was mad, but they’ve made up.

Does the story pass the bullshitometer test now? I don’t know. But my brother tells me a colleague of his asked the same question (about MPH) of a couple of acquaintances, and neither of them could answer it, either. (Which reminded me of an unrelated video shot at a Harvard commencement, in which a bunch of newly minted Harvard grads were asked to explain what causes summer and winter—and none of them could.)

So let’s assume the story is true. I found myself wondering: Where does the understanding break down, when someone can’t answer a question that most find ridiculously obvious. I got to speculating: If the brain fails to parse the phrase “miles per hour” for its literal meaning and just hears [noise] that gets translated as [familiar-sounding sciencey jargon], does it just never think to examine the [noise] to see if there’s some hidden meaning? Or is there a linguistic deficit that gets in the way of parsing the phrase, sort of like dyslexia? And thus, left foundering, does the brain scramble to find something, anything to help answer the question?

I wonder what a psychologist would say about this? Maybe I should ask my brother.