 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
This is an excerpt - a remix? - of a 2009 blog post on my experience of the Horizons Conference in NYC. I'm reposting this for those C-Realm peeps who might find their way here from Facebook, as the original post is still under friendslock.
~~~~~
"We take the subway to the Manhattan reception for the conference... The reception is...disconcertingly unpleasant, a party to which you were invited to be polite but not really expected to show up. Like a Robert Longo painting, the "inflatable art" could possibly have had deep meaning if you wanted to spend the time to deconstruct its form in relation to the social environment yadda yadda, but I've never been a fan of Longo or Deconstructionism. Instead, we laid on the floor in the corner, making fun of pompous intellectualism and debating the purpose of the small white plastic circles arrayed at semi-regular points on the ceiling of the old church. The "Bicycle Trip" monologue is somewhat amusing, but surprisingly amateurish, a trip tale for Saturday chillin' after the concert, not art for a New York reception. We decide not to stay for the roboticized Gamelan orchestra, opting to check out the neighborhood queer bars instead. ....
The next morning, I awake far too early, unaccustomed to the constant drone of being deep in the city. We make sketchy plans to meet up for the evening, then I leave for a subway adventure and missing part of the first speaker's talk. This is probably OK, as he can't seem to keep the mic in front of his mouth, so no one can hear most of what he says, anyway. The second speaker drones on in a dense accent - Swedish? - about brain activity and PET scans. There are lots of old white guys. There are lots of young white guys. There are some young white women, many of whom look disinterested in everything but their boyfriends. There are very few people of color, and most of that few are male (The second day, a young, articulate white woman in dreadlocks and batiked clothing will loudly declare her disgust with how the "rich old white men are trying to start a mushroom cult at Hopkins." Unfortunately, I had to leave before this discussion truly commenced; it could have been amusing to watch).
Although I was pleasantly surprised to find an old acquaintance now working for Erowid, if anything her presence only highlighted how much I was on the outside of this community. I suppose I'd hoped that having a similar outsider status in relation to the larger society would have led to a greater willingness to connect, in a McKenna-esque "find the others" way. Nope. (These are not the freaks you are looking for. Move along.) The room, so full of self-congratulatory ego - can they really believe they are cutting edge? Clearly, they feel so, and perhaps they are, in the world of medical research. But it is equally clear to me they are not, in the realms with which I am most concerned. Or is it me, as J says, living in a bubble? Where the edge has receded as I've ambled toward it, such that I've no idea how far ahead I am? ... At some point near the end of the afternoon, I realize I simply cannot bear the thought of attempting to socialize with any of these conference attendees at the planned after-events.
Sunday morning. ...I slide into the conference quietly, munch takeaway enchiladas in the corner. The last two speakers I hear are the best yet, but neither seems ready to get to the meat of the larger questions. Is there something larger than ourselves that entheogens help us connect to? And if so, what does that tell us about our theology, or society, our responsibilities to the future? One blatantly deflects, the other sidesteps more deftly. I resolve to email them, find out if that is really their feeling or just the game they play in public. Because we all play the game, it's just that some of us know the cheat codes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1){kind=small}
katuah's journal
Previous
