Biology Class--Freshman Year

I've been in touch with one of the former Catholic Brothers, now a layman, who taught math at my high school, Bishop Reilly in Queens, New York. I mentioned how tough the biology class was and that biology simply escaped me. I might have done better if I'd ever opened the book, but I always thought I was smart enough to just listen in class and never read any of the books at home except for my geometry book--cause I loved geometry--the novels and plays in English--cause I loved English--and an occasional look through Mary Dolciani's horrible nightmare-fueling algebra books. And as if her books weren't bad enough, when I got to Hunter College, guess who I got for my first Algebra 101 class? MARY DOLCIANI HERSELF!!!!! God, she was awful. First day she announced that there would be no eating, drinking or smoking cigarettes in class. What? We were always allowed to do those things. Worse, as soon as the announcement was made, she opened a cup of coffee, unwrapped a muffin, and lit a smoke.
I objected.
"The reason I can do these things and you can't," she said, "is that I know when I am going to speak. You, however, never know when you'll be called on to answer something I ask and I don't want to waste the class' time while you finish chewing or put down your coffee."
Point well made but it only made me hate her more.
Back to biology. I told my former teacher this story about biology class.

Once, in the biology class, we had to get an animal and dissect it at home as a project. Well, I got an alligator from the pet store and Brother Walter gave me a syringe and a bottle of formaldehyde, but no directions. The formaldehyde opened on the Q-44 bus going home, and I lost the syringe, but I didn't think that was important as I didn't know what I was to do with it anyway. So I got home, put my little alligator into a pot and filled it with the remaining formaldehyde. Man did that little critter jump!
I put a lid on the pot, and then a cinderblock and waited him out. He took about an hour to die, it seemed at the time. And then I cut his head open with a chisel and hammer to take a look at his brain, which was supposed to have two distinct lobes. Of course I crushed the brain with the hammer and chisel, so I didn't wind up with much of an experiment.
BUTTTT.....what I learned, crazily, from that experience, was that I never ever wanted to kill anything I didn't have to from that day on. And even now, this morning, when a waterbug came into my kitchen I went to kill it, then decided to give it a pass, so long as he left quickly. He did.
I don't know that the experiment was meant to impart the sanctity of life, but it did. Funny world, eh?

Upcoming Trip Info

My son Italo wrote a response to my "January--Fantastic News" post of a week or so ago that I'd forgotten to give any info on the trips.
So here's the deal: On Sat, Jan 8, I'm taking a small group of people into the jungle in Peru, which will be followed by a trip to the Andes mountains to visit Machu Picchu.
It's a 21-day trip. The jungle portion is 12 1/2 days; the mountain portion is 8 1/2 days.
There will be lots of indigenous medicines/ceremonies during our time together. In the jungle there will also be riverboat travel under the Amazon sky and on the Amazon itself; there will be hikes in the most fantastic swamp I know. There will be some walking in first growth jungle, under the high trees, learning about plant medicines, collecting wild foods, canoeing in the dark, swimming in a lake that's home to pink and grey river dolphins, and anything else we can squeeze in. And we can usually find some other things to squeeze in.
In the mountains, there will be more medicine ceremonies, with two of the finest curanderos I know. And there will be clambering around breathtaking ruins, and visits to an extraordinary market, and two days at Machu Picchu and again, anything else I can squeeze in.
People are welcome to sign up for either portion of the trip or the entire trip.

Then in February, beginning on the first saturday, I've got a 9 1/2 day jungle intensive. It's similar to the 12 1/2 day jungle trip but not quite the same because no two trips are the same. My team and I always try to do at least a couple of things with each group that we've not done before.

Note on my team: My jungle team is the best team in the world. We're like the Chicago Bulls when Michael J was in his prime and Rodman was vacuuming up every rebound in sight. They will take care of you--in terms of protecting you, looking out for you and making sure you're entertained and taught well--wonderfully. And they'll do that without coddling you or getting in the way of you having your experiences.

Note on the trips: We don't go to no stinkin' lodges. Ain't no television at night. We go to deep jungle and you will get dirt under your findernails and you will bathe in the river and you will love and come out of the trip a changed person. If you currently suck, you will suck less. If you are already a diamond, we'll polish you up. These are no fooling intense trips, but they are not physically difficult. I've had some guests who were sure they couldn't do things but darn if they didn't surprise themselves.

For something of a pretty good itinerary--though note that each trip is a little different and that I've already added a second medicine ceremony to the mountain portion of the first trip--please go to pgorman.com and then go to the TOURS page.
The basics are there, including a pretty good day-to-day, a list of what's included and what is not, and the prices.
If anyone thinks that a few hundred dollars off a price would help make a trip possible, please ask and I'll see what I can do.
Now get that check book out and sign up for one of them. Your next change won't be till June.
These are really pretty special trips.
Thanks for listening.
Hope my son is happy now.

Cute Little Story

Might have posted something like this once before but it's short so if I did, just bear with me.
Someone on a forum I occasionally post on was discussing Tom Robbins the other day. It was slightly off topic but reminded me of this story. Here is what i wrote.

I've been a fan of Robbins for a long time. And I have a funny Tom Robbins story to tell. About 10-12 years ago, I got a call. I answered. "Hello, this is Tom Robbins. I hope you don't mind but Terence McKenna gave me your phone number and said you were the expert on frog hallucinogens. I'm writing a book about them and wonder if you could talk to me about them..."
Well, I worked with Phylomedusa bicolor, the Matses' sapo medicine, and Robbins was talking about the Bufo Alvarious, which I knew but certainly was not an expert on. And what I did know was from the Bufo Amazonas. So I couldn't help him much. I think I gave him Tom Lyttle's number, and for those of you who know, Tom Lyttle was a crazy genius who died way too young. The book Robbins finally wrote was Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas, a terrific piece.
But while I couldn't help him out, I was thrilled to get the call. "This is Tom Robbins...Terence McKenna gave me your phone number..." Man, I thought I made it right there. It was so cool that I was probably shining for a week.
Of course, still struggling to pay the mortgage and keep shoes on my kids's feet, I know I'm not there yet, but for a minute a decade ago, well, I was sky high.

Man, Does Life Slip by or What?

Man, does life slip by or what? Last thing I knew I had my horrible big toenails--infected by some strange, still unidentified Amazon poison--cut by Chepa because the poison triples the depth and cannot be cut by me. And now they're completely painful again. So four months went by that quick. Last thing I knew, Chepa cut my hair before the June trip to Peru and now I look like a damned old hippie--which I am proud to be--who doesn't groom himself. And last thing I knew my Madeleina was just a little girl and today I found blood in the toilet. And Sierra, Chepa's 4-year old, was asking me things and now, just since June, she's reminding me to hold hands and pray before breakfast. And Alexa, Chepa's youngest at 2, now talks and tells me all the animals that have died since she last saw them. "Goat mom, died. Blue bird in kitchen, died. Bad cats died. A lot animals died."
And last thing I knew the grass in the hill space over the creek was cut but now it's 2 feet tall and all weeds with stickers. And I was out cutting it and I've got hundreds of fire ant bites and dozens of really painful-to-remove stickers on my shorts and legs and ankles and sneakers.
And the damned mortgage is due again.
Can't we slow things down just a trace? I mean, come on folks. Let's work together. If your life is changing as fast as mine, and I'm running as fast as I can, then you're all in the same boat, and we seem to be swimming up current. Which is not the right direction.
Hold on, it's probably gonna get tougher from here. Got a trip coming up in January and another in February and by the time those are both done, Madeleina will probably be asking me to buy her a car...
Lots of love to get through it to all of you. From a deep good place in my heart.

Friday Morning at the Gorman Spread

Well, it's Friday morning, 7:12. I'm drinking my coffee and reading my newspapers on the internet. I've read that there was a horrible storm that raged through New York City yesterday and wrote to a friend who lives there to see if she's okay.
When I got up in the middle of the night to take my middle of the night too-much-liquid-for-my-kidneys-to-handle break, I noticed an empty box of curlers on the bathroom sink.
When I got up at 5:30 for good, I went to Madeleina's room door and called to her to ask her if she needed to get up early. She said she needed a smidge more sleep. Normally that would mean I'd be trying to wake her every 15 minutes for the next hour-and-a-half, but this time she was up on her own in a flash. She came bounding into the living room, some of her hair in long bouncing curls.
"Hey dad, check it out. Today's picture day so I thought I'd put curlers in to give myself a different look."
"You look gorgeous, baby."
"Yeah, except that this zit came out right here," she said, pointing to something I couldn't even see. "It's so ugly. And from a distance it makes it look like my nose is bleading. Plus I have such tiny eyelashes. Why don't I have your eyelashes? Why do you have such long beautiful lashes and I'm stuck with mom's?"
"They'll grow, don't worry."
"Not in time for picture day."
"Well, not by 10 this morning, no..."
"So, dad, what would you say if I--I mean, you know I don't use makeup because that's such a girly thing, but what if I used just a little today to cover up this zit?"
"Cool. Anything you like."
"Thanks, dad. You're the best."
Five minutes later she came back into my office/the front living room, this time with about 12 bracelets on each arm.
"Do you know that I have a lot of beautiful things? I mean, these are great. I just never wear them because I'm afraid I'll break them. Maybe I'll just wear the pink ones today. Because they go with the pink earrings and they're the hardest to break because they're plastic, not stone or silver or anything...."
"You rock, Macaroni."
"Thanks, dad!" And off she went.
Fifteen minutes passed. From the bathroom I hear, "You get off. Right now. And you, you get back into place and stay there. You hear me?"
"Who are you talking with, Madeleina? Yourself or you have company I don't know about?"
"Just these stupid curlers, dad. They're not staying in place. And the mascara is going in the wrong place."
"Excellent. Everything likes a little personal attention."
Five more minutes passed and out she came. "Can you come here, dad? I think I just poked myself in the eye with makeup and now I can't see."
I took a look and got the tiny bit of dabbing cream out of her eye.
"Thanks, dad. I guess I'm just not good at these girly things..."
"I don't think make up skills are something you're born with, darlin. I think that's a practiced skill."
"I should probably ask mom....but I don't really need to because I don't like things like makeup yet..."
No, I thought. But you're starting to lean in that direction.
My baby's growing up, I guess.
Good for her.

January Peru Trip: This is Fanatastic!

Dear All: Just a quick note to say that several people who said they were going to sign up for the January 21 day trip to Peru--Mountains and Jungle courses in magic, medicines and peoples, are copping out and asking for later trips. Money is the issue and I understand.
BUTTTTTTTT....the trip is on anyway, and I should say trips, because the Jan trip is followed by a February trip which is shorter, but costs considerably less, everyone should join. These are fantastic trips.
The Fantastic News is that my teacher Victor Estrada, as well as my other teacher, Kucho, will be doing San Pedro Healing work during the mountain portion of the January trip. This is unprecedented. To have two of my teachers, two of the people who can heal illness, sadness, anything for goodness sake, is unbelieveable. So if anyone here is considering getting healed, I am telling you, no lie, that now is the time to get that healing. These two men are extraordinary and I don't use that word lightly. I'm a recipient of their work and I am just not fooling here.
So if you want to sign up, this is a good time to do it. And if you're short on bucks, talk to me about scholarships. I'll do my best. This is something fantastic.

Alexa Running at Me

Today was a sad day. I was working on a cover story for my local alternative that's going to press next Tuesday. I was having a tough time with it because it has not percolated enough in my head. My work is done, essentially, and this is the time when I try to think of the right way to present it to make it its strongest. Many false starts.
That wasn't the sad part. The sad part was that I needed to go to the hospital where Chepa's baby Alexa was born and sign a paper swearing i was not her father and that I had no parental responsibility for her. That probably sounds pretty odd to be something to feel sad about because I'm not her father, but still, it felt--and felt with Sierra before her--like I was signing a paper swearing to abandon her. Like she was nothing to me. And that's just not right. She and Sierra are Madeleina's sisters, they're Italo and Marco's sisters. They're my granddaughter's aunts. That is a lot to me. Not counting that I've helped raise them both, that this is the house they want to come visit daily, that they think of the chickens and goats and the cat and birds and Boots as their animals. So yeah, it was sad to sign a paper swearing I will have no responsibility for Alexa.
And on the heels of that unexpected sadness, Chepa came over just as I got home from the hospital and there was Alexa jumping out the car, bounding in my direction, arms raised high above her head and a welcome smile on her face while she screamed "I'm here!!!!" And I swept her up in my arms and held her tightly and swore that no matter what paper I signed, neither she nor Sierra would ever be abandoned by me.

Thoughts on the Age of Ayahuasca

Someone on a forum I post to occasionally has been pushing the idea that Ayahuasca has been in use for 10,000 years. I put up with about a dozen posts on the subject before I thought I had to weigh in. And this is what I weighed in with:

Thoughts on the Age of Ayahuasca
Another $0.02 from Gorman. There is no stone in northwestern Amazonia. There is stone along the Andes and there is stone along the upper reaches of the Amazon from west to east, but not in the Amazon basin. So no stone, nothing lasts. No written language in the Amazon, plus no stone, means the only early records we have of the entire basin come from Jesuit and Franciscans who traveled with the Conquistadores. And they wrote history like any conquering people--from their perspective. So to demand solid information from an area of the world where there was nothing concrete to carve into, paint on, draw on or build with and which didn't have a written language is a silly question. We know that early Spanish records talk about some indigenous using a substance that we can be pretty sure was ayahuasca, but that's it. Further than that is accepted speculation but that's all it is.
And this is true for a lot of things. Sapo, frog sweat--also, recently used by tribes that call it kambo--was only first mentioned in the literature by Bob Carniero, in his work with the Amahuaca--though he never saw it used despite living with the Amahuaca for a full year or more (he is currently the Director of South American Ethnology at the American Museum of Natural History in NYC). And he didn't have a name for the material, just relayed a myth in a 26 page pamphlet he published in 1972 or so. When I brought out sapo and wrote about it, it was the first time it was written about, ever, as something seen and experienced. And that wasn't until 1986. So while it might have been in use for thousands of years, all we can go on is that it's been in use since 1986. Kambo doesn't appear in the literature until about 2002 or so, so if those tribes were using it before then--highly unlikely, as it appears the Matses are the only people who perfected collecting, and using, the material and that others copied it when word spread in the last 20 years--there is no record. And as there is no stone in most of the Amazon, there are no petro glyphs we can go back to see what might have happened.
The reality is that what happens in the Amazon is lost within 20 years, when the trees in the building decay. That's just life. In the mountains and desert you can have records going back thousands of years, but not in the rainforest, where there is no permanence. I know that Ecuador is a bit different in places from most of Peru's jungle, and Colombia has its foot in the northern stone mountain crest, but nothing has been found in those places to indicate early ayahuasca use.
Which doesn't mean it wasn't used 10,000 years ago. Just that you're gonna have a hard time proving it.

The Girls Are Back, Finally

Well, Sierra and Alexa were over for a while today. Fantastic. Just holding them, just singing their songs to them, just having Sierra ask, "Did you get the donuts, Mr. P Garman?" and my heart was off and running. Chepa brought them over and while they didn't stay long--their dad came into town with them for a few days--they didn't want to leave. "Stay, mom. Stay," said Alexa, who can apparently talk now. See what happens when I miss three months with them? Chepa assured them and me they'd be over all the time now, until I got tired of them. I reminded her that I've never gotten tired of the kids. None of them. Wanted to kill Marco, occasionally, and any baby can drive you to frustration's limit now and again, especially if you work from home and they just won't let you, but I've never gotten tired of them. And if I had five more, that would be swell too. My three are great, but add in Chepa's new two and man, I'm just sitting around mostly in heaven.
So good. That's just great.

Yeah, Well, Things Goin' Good Here

Yeah, well, things going good at the Gorman house. Marco, who's been told that he's welcome anytime to come to dinner or work or sleep over, but not just to show up at midnight and raid the fridge because that makes me feel used, has been a gentleman of late, coming over in time for dinner, doing dishes, etc. Partly probably because he can't find a job here. He's in a tough spot: Nobody at the local burger joints will hire him because he's too smart, and the regular jobs don't want him because he got into a spat with his last boss and wound up getting fired. I've offered to go there and fix things as only a journalist/dad can but he won't hear of it.
Still, last night, start of a 3 1/2 day weekend, Marco ate, borrowed my newer truck and said he'd be back to go to sleep here.
Then Italo came over to say hello.
And Madeleina was in rare form, victimizing them with her acerbic tongue and I won't go into specifics.
THis morning Madeleina and I used our third ball of string, polished hemp, to complete the spiderweb over the chicken coop that ought to keep the red tailed hawks out--Ha, I'm thinking. They're predators for a reason and the reason is that they're slicker than their prey. And I'd be their prey if they were big enough--and then went and bought half a dozen new chicks. Just as we got back, here came Italo and Marco, looking for breakfast and promising to clean the rug in the big living room after they got through with their mom, Chepa's rug. Turns out, unbeknownst to me, she's left Indiana and is due back tomorrow with the babies. HOORAY!!!!! I can't wait to see the babies! I'll only have a day or two because I guess their dad is due in on Wednesday for a couple of days. Forget that, who cares. Chepa will bring the babies over daily anyway. She's pretty hard-headed when it comes to her men either towing the line or being cut from it.
So I tossed in $30 to the rug cleaning pot and Italo eventually came here while I was visiting with my friend Lynn and then he and Marco cleaned not just the big living room rug but the old Persian imitation I've had for 30 years and then my office rug and man, do we smell like a clean house! And now they're coming for dinner so I'm making hot sausage with onions and peppers--a mix of green and red bell, plus the finest in-season Hatch peppers, with garlic and finely diced tomato, over rice. I already made a good corn and red pepper and onion salad in white vinegar (salt/Pepper and a touch of garlic in olive oil). And Then I put in a rack of ribs at a low temp. I'll make a good barbeque sauce in a few minutes--start with a bit of salt pork, lots of garlic and onion and tomatoes and peppers, then good dark brown sugar and fresh hot red peppers and go from there--for those in an hour, and then I guess I'll make up some veggies to go with the works. I was gonna do shrimp and salmon but I'll hold that till tomorrow.
The gist of this is that there was a lot of noise, all my kids, good work done (I painted the new fencing on the porch again and am now officially freaking done with that), food prep (They shared an 8 egg omelet for breakfast which include freshly pan seared chicken breast, spinach, garlic, tomatoes, onion and good cheddar) along with "Smashed potatoes"--roasted potatoes put in a heavy fry pan, smashed to near flat, salt and peppered and cooked in garlic and oil and a bit of chicken stock till really crispy on the outside and pure white potato meat on the inside. The omelet and potatoes were accompanied by a thick slice of perfect cantaloupe.
And then I sold 3 more books today, and if I can do that all month I'll have sold 90. And I know I'll get a couple of wholesale orders for 10 each, so that would be great.
So things are good here. How nice. It really doesn't take a lot to make me happy. My kids, noise, cooking, a little work, a few new chickens, what else? That's plenty, eh? Don't be greedy, Gorman. That's already a real good day.

Friday Night, Ain't it Great?

So Madeleina just walked in at 7:01 and announced that the sun is too high. "Way too high. I mean, way too too high!".
And then she walked to the living room and announced she'd just found the bandaids we've been looking for the last couple of weeks and which have already been replaced.
And just before this she has been out in the front yard, herding the goats, Boots, the cat and the chickens, none of whom have been fed yet, with a broken metal broom pole and singing to them. "I am the wizard! I have made you all what you are! I can change you if I want but I don't want to! You are all fine---get over there, you stupid goat! Don't you know I'm talking to you?"
Life is so so sweet and precious. To hear her making up songs out there and hitting notes I couldn't hit before my whatever's fell some near 50 years ago is just fantastic. Her voice soars like magic. If I could bottle it and listen to it daily, I would. She shatters the crystal of my heart effortlessly.
I'm just so lucky, and happy to be alive.
Thanks white light.

Ah, My Madeleina....

Ah, my Madeleina: It is about 6:34 PM on Wednesday afternoon. Madeleina and I just had a talk about people covering up. She brought it up by asking why she was 15 pounds overweight. I explained that that happened when her mom and I broke up and she was stuck listening to lots of screaming and acrimony and decided, though she didn't realize it, to put a layer of protection between herself and her heart.
She asked why I was also 15-20 pounds overweight. I explained that while in New York I had friends, people I played handball with, people I played softball with, people I threw a football with, and that I also rode my bike 10 miles per day through New York traffic. But here in Texas, I have only one friend who is an adult, and he and I only see one another every two or three months. And I can't ride my bike--too many dogs--can't play handball, can't throw a football, and there are no handball walls. So I get bored to death and drink a little at night. Not stupidly, but enough to numb the night and let me sleep. And that's my extra weight.
She laughed at that explanation.
AND then it started to get windy and she suddenly took out her best kite and now she's running all over the yard, chased by the goats, by Boots, by the cat and by the chickens that she decided should be let loose, and the lightning is pouring down. There is no getting her inside, and as there is no key at the end of her kite string, I wont' try any further. But she is the real deal And she makes me laugh and calls me on it when I'm short. She's a real New Yorker is what I'm saying, could have been a mob moll if she stayed there and would have been a good one.
"Dad: If you lose another 10 pounds, even the 60 year old women at walmart will be looking at you!
Thanks, baby. Now go get into a cold shower and stay there for a year or two.
No, she's out in the rain and thunder.
On another note, my book, Ayahuasca in My Blood--25 Years of Medicine Dreaming was just made book of the month for the shamanportal.org website. It's a research place for all things shamanic. And no, It is not the same as winning an AAN national award for writing or two, and not the same as being the Texas Print Journalist of the Year, but it is still a nice thing. It means somebody who doesn't know me thought the book was good, informative, or even fantastic.
So thanks, God. White Light. Being-ness. Is-ness. Thanks for giving me Madeleina, my health, my crazy family, my goats and Boots.
Hope your rainstorm is as good as mine, everybody.

Okay, Here's an Answer I Gave Someone

Here's an answer I gave someone who asked what I felt the impact of ayahuasca tourism has been, and when it started, in Iquitos, Peru. It's not impossible that I've had a couple of glasses of wine with ginger ale right now and when I wrote this, so if the spelling is off in places, tough luck. HA!

I'm here and noticed your thread. I'm just under the gun with story deadlines and so have not responded yet. But I mean to.
I can tell you that in 1984 there were 2 very major and successful tour outfits in Iquitos, neither of which offered ayahuasca, as well as Carlos Grande, Moises Torres Vienna and a few other good jungle guides.
By 1990, Paul Wright and Peter Jensen, who had the two most successful outfits, came to me to say "thank you" because they claimed that my stories on ayahuasca had added more than 10 percent volume to their tour groups. And by 1993, when Shoemaker came and began his current tour of duty, they both claimed that their groups had gone up by 20 percent.
And once that ball started rolling, there was no stopping it.
The biggest single mark was Alan Shoemaker starting the Shamanism Conference, but there were other marks: The National Geo article on Blue Morpho, a couple of movies, and so forth.
And most of it has been a mixed blessing. There might be 30 places out on the road from Iquitos to Nauta, each of which has cut down primary jungle to make a lodge type place for gringos. That's tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of trees cut down, thousands of bands of monkeys displaced in the name of saving the rainforest. And each of those require probably thousands of more trees next year.
The first big time operator out there that I know of was Don Francisco Montes. He is from a great line of Shipibo healers and was basically kicked out of Pucallpa in about 1993 and sent to live in Iquitos by his family, who bought him a 20 hectare spread. He organized himself, took his work seriously and I love the guy. He is terrific. And his place, Sachamama, is certainly the most beautiful place anywhere. I think Alan S, was the first to get him a grant of $500 from a woman who was a client of his. And that money was the seed money for the Sachamama plant identification work. Francisco has earned his stripes in the years since.
During the last 4 years we have seen an unprecedented number of newbies come to Iquitos with a few bucks, fall for a curandero, and build them a place on the road to Nauta. Most of those places will disappear because of the costs. But they will have killed wildlife, stunted vegetation and done a host of harms in the name of good. The one constant in the third world is that all of the bad men have never done near the harm of those who meant well,. That's just life, and it stinks but that's the way it is. Bringing curanderos out of their river villages hurts those villages. Bringing gringos in large numbers into those villages hurts those villages. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Better to just get healed and walk away.
HA! This from one of the people who accidently promulgated the whole thing. But I saw early on, in 1987-1988 that my teacher Julio Llerena's (Jerena) only true apprentice, Salis Navarro, when hired by Peter Jensen's outfit to give ayahuasca to gringos once a week let it go to his head and was subsequently killed by a Matses man, my friend Antonio, after he seduced one of Antonio's wives while Antionio was out hunting. The alarm bells went off that I was doing something wrong. I knew it was important to write about ayahuasca, to bring or help bring it to the world, but I also knew I would have to hide the people I worked with better, so that they would be protected, from themselves and others.
So what's with aya tourism? Well, it's brought enough gringos to Iquitos to keep several gringos making money in gringo restaurants. It's brought enough money to take a dozen legit curanderos off the rivers where they worked and bring them into the city to work with gringos, or into lodges to work with foreigners to the detriment of their own people. It's brought enough money to cut down thousands of hectares of primary forest in the name of making aya retreats that are aimed at making gringos money and to share the knowledge. It's brought enough money to have at least two dozen people who never even drank ayahuasca three years ago into the realm of being "curanderos" because they've learned a few songs and have sycophantic acolytes. And it's brought enough seekers to have obscured the value of the true ayahuasca experience, what with the rules, regulations, and so forth that many of the curanderos now put forth.
So, end result? Do gooders should stay the heck out because they spawn other do gooders. Evil men are identifiable and therefore not much of a threat.
There are, seriously, many many good people out there working their hearts to the n'th degree. To denigrate them would be wrong. They're doing good, important work. But there are also people who do not understand the culture, people who mean well, but who do not have the experience with the culture to know where and how to encourage legit growth, and therefore are unwittingly encouraging non-legit growth.
Which is which I am not going to get into. But there is certainly a part of me that is sorry for having unwittingly encouraged it all. Iquitos and the northwest Amazon was fine the way it was. It didn't need help. And all the help we've meant to bring has not been a real help at all, I don't think.

Tonight on Coast to Coast AM...

I was just told that tonight, Saturday, August 28, Coast to Coast AM radio is going to be playing an old interview I did with Art Bell. I did it about 12 years ago, when I was leaving my post as editor-in-chief of High Times magazine, and heading down to the jungle to begin taking people out to the deep green. I think we discussed the failure of the War on Drugs, the Amazon and so forth. If I remember, it was a pretty good show--or seemed it at the time. According to the coasttocoastam.com website it's gonna start at 6 PM, but of course that depends on when your local station runs the coast to coast show.
So spread the word for old time's sake. And then, if there is a call in section at the end or something, call in and tell them to plug my new book!!!!!
The timing is kind of odd because just three days ago I wrote them asking for a new interview regarding the jungle and ayahuasca and my book and while I have not heard back, well, here's this. And I would not have known about it if one of Fort Worth's activists, a woman I talk with on certain political issues, hadn't written to ask if I were the same Peter Gorman as the Peter Gorman coming up on the Art Bell replay.

All I Can Figure is You're All Astounded....

All I can figure is you're all astounded into silence by my recent spate of blogs. I mean, nobody is answering except my friend G, who posted the same thing five times. Which means he was having a great night on apple cider or the trembling set in....and given that he's a freaking surgeon, let's just hope it was a great night. There was one post, from someone who didn't read my book, who wanted to know who Papa Viejo and the women of Loreto were. Papa Viejo was an old Matses headman and warrior--he fought the Peruvian military as recently as 1970 or so--who has a great scene in my book. He never became my friend for real but he certainly influenced me and his daughter Irene and some of his sons did become my friends--though Irene still looks at me like she looks at a tapir on a trap spike: Good lunch, nothing more. The women of Loreto are the women who are charapitas, women born in the area of Iquitos, Peru. Generally 2-3-4 generations from genuine indigenous life, they still have deep indigenous genetic roots--like my wife/ex-wife Chepa--with so many of their behaviors, including a secret language, a sort of a jungle Pig Latin that only the women are taught, an indigenous part of their day to day lives.
So what is it? Bored to death? What do you want me to do, come over to your houses and shake you up? Want me to write in big letters? Want me to add pictures to this perfectly clean blog? Want me to tell more Madeleina stories? I would tell you more Sierra and Alexa stories but I have not seen either one of them since May 31, and that's driving me crazy. I will see them in about 10-12 days, if all goes well, and then I will have new stories for sure. But for now? What I've got to write about is what I've got. And you guys got to go with that. If it's ayahuasca, let it be. Learn something even if you never use the stuff.
If it's cooking, go with that too, even if all you ever eat is chips. People will be impressed if you rattle off my simple but elegant recipes.
Madeleina just walked through he room saying, "Father, you're number one...!!!" as if I didn't notice that she was taking another handful of the best green grapes in the world with her after I told her no more grapes till after swordfish dinner...
And Marco came in last night and this morning my wallet was $13 lighter. Not that he can possibly imagine that a semi-broke dad actually knows how much money is in his wallet till next payday....HAHAHAHA!
And now I'm going out to do some painting on my new porch fence. It was painted three times or so while it was just in 2x4 form, but now that it's been cut and placed, it needs a couple of coats more to look right.
As for you? I don't know. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I'm putting you all to sleep. Or maybe I'm just stunning you into silence with wonderful takes on daily occurrences.....either way, unless somebody starts talking I'm gonna assume you all died and then light candles for ya.
Or I'll just forgive your silence, figure you're still paying attention--QUIZ TOMORROW AND GOD HELP YOU IF YOU FAIL!!!--and keep wriiting. Love to everybody. Hug a tree or insolent teen today. Hint: Trees don't curse back. But they do have insidious ants.
Peace out....or Please, out...or Peas, mashed...
Gorman

On Dominating the Spirits

THOUGHTS ON DOMINATING THE SPIRITS
Someone wrote me to ask if dominating the spirits, as I’ve written about, is more important than simply trusting the plant spirits. This is what I wrote back.
In terms of domination rather than trust, I think the trust comes from the domination. When we think of the spirit of ayahuasca, we need to think of where she comes from, where her roots are. That's the Amazon. And in that world--where men are concerned--traditionally outsiders are considered bad and unwanted--at least since the Spanish brutalization of so much of that region. Therefore, when an outsider comes on a camp of indigenous, there is no greeting. Instead there is a wild confrontation with a show of arms and loud voices and threats. This is true even these days in places where there are still some old warriors living. And it's true in some mestizo villages as well: I recently had a shotgun blast nearly take my head off as I walked the perimeter of some land I own just out on the Nauta road at kilometer 14. The fellow was alone and I was with three other people and we had a shotgun and so he fired from the brush, unexpectedly, before we even saw him. He didn't want to kill us, just frighten us away because we were, to him, such a threatening and potentially dangerous group.
Now, if you can see the spirit of ayahuasca, and the spirits that are there to help you specifically--whether for short term healing or even if they are your lifelong guardians--in the light of that sort of militant posturing, then I think the domination idea is clearer than our view of domination. In other words, you will be challenged by some of those spirits, just as if you walked into an indigenous antigua's camp. You will be asked in the most frightening manner what your business is. And if you run, that indigenous antigua will chase you and take everything you have. But if you stand square, like Moises taught me with Papa Viejo, then you will earn respect, and with it, a measure of trust. But you have to earn it. And that standing tall in front of someone who is threatening, and capable, of killing you, is the domination I'm talking about. It's not that you beat the spirit into submission, you dominate by being equal. You dominate by controlling your fear or by not having fear. You dominate by not allowing yourself to be dominated.
It's the same with many of the women in Loreto, by the way. You need to dominate them by showing them you are not intimidated by their looks, actions, the way they want to brush you off. And if you do, then you have dominated them, you have captured them (conquistar is the word they use to explain it). That's another story, of course, but a reminder that the theme of domination runs through all aspects of the culture of the region, including the spirit world there.
Now, I don't think that this comes into play very often early on in one's relationship with ayahuasca and the other spirits. I think mostly that they are pretty gentle with people. But relationships change and demands get made and the bar is set higher and higher the deeper one goes. At least that's my experience.
Now, as to your journal entry suggesting that what needs dominating isn't so much the spirits, perhaps, but our fear, well, that's on the money. But our fear has to be dominated in front of those spirits when they challenge us. And while they won't steal everything we have if we lose the challenge like Papa Viejo would have, they certainly are not going to give up what they have to share with us unless we've proved ourselves worthy and capable via that domination.
Make any sense?

Wednesday Near Noon...Everything's Moving, Everything's Still

Everything is moving. Everything is still. My brain is exploding. It's a great day to be alive.
Well, I turned down the offer to publish my book with a real publisher. I just wrote a note declining the offer. And you know what? I sort of hated doing that. I mean, it would be cool to be officially published. Like the first time I saw my work in Omni magazine or in the Spanish GEO. Just thrilling.
I didn't turn it down because of the money--though if the offer had been $25,000 I might have accepted it. I turned it down because I would have had to stop anything that's going on. That means the newly released hard cover, still waiting for its first sale (only on lulu.com as yet, under Ayahuasca in My Blood--25 Years of Medicine Dreaming) would be shut down. It means the Kindle edition that Johan is near finishing couldn't go up. It means the soft cover, which has hit over 60 sales this month with a week to go, would be shut down. And while 60 doesn't seem like many, and isn't, it's double what it was last month, the second month it's been out. And I think it will double again next month. Or hope.
But Skunk magazine, the Canadian magazine I write my Drug War Follies for is coming out with an excerpt and a review in a couple of months. And MAPS, the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, is due to review it in their year end issue. And Lynn and I have begun playing with the audio version and hope to have that out in a few weeks. And there are some radio shows that have asked me to talk about it. And a few bookstores have bought some books wholesale to stock.
I really don't want to stop that, even if it's not a juggernaut at the moment. To pull it off the market now and have to wait till next fall to have released, well, to be honest, that would be about as fun as being told, just at the last second: "Don't finish yet..." or some other thing. Pardon the graphic.
So that's that. I don't think he'll come back with a $25,000 offer. I don't even think he will come back with an offer to let me continue what I'm doing, to try to build steam so that when he publishes next fall there will already be interest in it. I think it's just a done deal.
Which is not the only thing on my mind. On my mind is the last section of front porch fence, the largish story I finished last night just about the time my newspaper went to press--well, that's when the rewrite was finished and so I've got one very upset boss to deal with at tomorrow's meeting. Problem was it's a complex story and I didn't have much time for it and so while I did a host of interviews--more than most people would do for a cover story--there wasn't a lot of time to let it all gel. And that is vital to good journalism. Not if you are writing about someone putting up a new pasture fence, but if you are trying to explain new policing tactics and what they might mean to minority communities and to civil rights issues of even majorities, well, that takes a bit of time to settle. And the pace I've been on, doing a good sized (1600 word) story and a small story (400) words for each of the last few weeks, as well as working on a couple of the cover stories I've got coming up, as well as responding to book readers with questions....well, it is just too hectic to have the luxury of having things settle.
The alternative is that I turned in a draft and let my boss tell me what was wrong. That helped me focus down on things and allowed me to write a pretty damned good rewrite. But it pissed her off I'm sure to be wondering if we were going to have anything printable/readable 30 minutes before the press run started. And anyone in the business knows: You really can't stall the presses. Once they are set to go, they go, whether you've got those pages filled or not.
And another thing I've been thinking about is how super cool Madeleina is. She is just fantastic and I hope i tell her that every day. Know what she did yesterday? I had gone food shopping after I turned in the draft, then picked her up from school on the way home. She helped with putting away the groceries and I started dinner. Good dinner. Fresh albacore tuna steaks sauteed in olive oil and garlic, to which I added diced onions and tomatoes, then fresh diced ginger, plenty of it, and then a small jar of capers with juice. Man oh man that got about 12 levels of taste buds going. And I served it with sweet fresh corn on the cob and simple steamed broccoli. Oh, lala! Voila! I'm laughing because I just had a couple of bites of the left overs a few minutes ago and can still taste my mouth going in circles!
So she put away the groceries and I started chopping, and while i was sauteing I got this morning's coffee ready--I like to just wake up and hit the on button, rather than start with cleaning out the pot--and then we ate. Marco was over and we watched Diehard 3, a pretty cool flick after a couple of Jim Beams, and then I went to bed.
And this morning I got up, turned on the coffee, brushed my teeth and went to pour that first cup--the thick first couple of ounces when it just starts to brew, and then realized that I had to open a new box of sweet and low that i'd bought yesterday.
And when I got it out of the cupboard, guess what? Madeleina hadn't just put it away, but she'd opened the box and cut open the silver foil packet inside for me.
It may not seem like much but I was overwhelmed at the gesture. My little girl, with no prompting, thought of me and what I would be doing this morning and knew that package would have to be opened and so she got it done. That was very very thoughtful.
I know. I'm easily moved. But if every one of us could think that way and do something like that for someone else once every day, we'd probably have half the world's problems solved in a month.
I'm glad she's my kid and hope your kids do something little but magical for you today too.

Sorry, but One More About Ayahuasca

Someone who recently read my book, someone I don't know, wrote this morning to ask about whether ayahuasca has a selfish side. It came in reference to a moment in the book when ayahuasca asks me to bring her "fresh meat", which scared the hell out of me. So I wrote this answer, and I don't think it will ruin the book for anyone since it's not that kind of book.

Dear X: Now, your question: It is hard to say, prior to understanding fully, some of the things that go on with ayahuasca. When I first saw the Man with the Hat, for instance, he was the size of the entire universe, and so it was frightening beyond words when he said I should follow him. Later, it turned out he was sent to help me--and has helped me ever since.
So the fresh meat: Does that mean she wants me to come after I've done a dieta for days so that I will be fresh meat, rather than some old white guy? Maybe.
Has my having been instrumental in making ayahuasca known and subsequently making her a destination for thousands and thousand of people gotten her ego piqued? Does she now think she's a little more important than she is and so wants "fresh meat" to work with in the way of more guests, not just from me but from others and from those who will seek her out because of things like my book? Possibly. I do believe that all spirits/life forces have will, intent, desires. So who is to say she, like the rest of us, doesn't have a bit of an ego that can get out of hand sometimes?
That is something I've been trying to figure out for nearly two years. And during that time I've only drunk a few times because of my fear of approaching her. There is a part of me that knows--and if you want you can chalk this all up to my own insane ego--that there was a reason I wound up writing the first cover story in a national magazine about ayahuasca. I wasn't chosen but I was in the right place/right time. I think my relationship with her spirit is a bit different than a lot of other peoples' because of that. I think she has made demands on me--some of which I didn't write about because they might frighten people--that she has probably not made on many people. One was once when she announced that she and the spirits would need my body, that they wanted to feel the tactile sensations humans felt. So I sent the family away, told her I'd go along with it only if those spirits didn't do anything to hurt me or the person with me, my friend Lynn. And then we drank and for several hours hundreds of different spirits moved through me for a few minutes each. They wanted to touch water, leaves, smell flowers, sing, scratch skin.....and they had to be told "no" pretty freaking forcefully when one of them wanted to cut my fingers with a knife to see how it felt to bleed. If anyone had seen me that night other than Lynn I am sure I would have been put in a looney bin. That was a frightening experience, but one I was glad to let her have because of what she has given me. And at the end of it I was led to sit under that throbbing, fantastic corona I describe in the book. I thought my body would burst from the energy that corona had.
So there are some things left out of the book, some things that will go into another book if I ever gather enough good material. Why were they left out? Because I don't have enough understanding of what happened yet. The crush of going into that black magic space, in the center of everything, I've only tasted it. What will it be like to experience that crush of myself within the gears of the machine that runs the universe? I don't know so I didn't want to discuss it much.
I am gathering up my courage. I am remembering that there is a reason this spirit and I came together, and it wasn't just by accident. If Moises hadn't said the word, if Alfonso wasn't home that day, I likely would never have tried it. But I will need a lot of courage to jump into that fire fully. It's a frightening place because it's deeper each time, more demanding each time. And yet I suppose, if I gather up my courage, it will be more rewarding as well. The spirits are as deep and dense and wonderful as our spirits are and the chance to plumb the depth of one as sturdy as ayahuasca is a rare one.
When I do will I discover her to be selfish? I don't think so. I think this is just another test, and that it is a test for both her and I. We are somehow intertwined--and she may well be intertwined with thousands of others--and that story needs to play out, needs to come out on another side. And the other side won't just be being a curandero. It will be something else. I think Julio did it. Some other curanderos have done it. But not many. I think it would mean the same thing as it meant for those spirits to inhabit my human body for a few minutes: It might mean, and I think it certainly would entail, me inhabiting her spirit for a few minutes. And that, while a wonderful thought, is also an overwhelmingly frightening one.
Anyway, if I ever find out if ayahuasca is selfish, I'll let you know.

Saturday Morning, Bucolic Joshua, Texas

Saturday morning here in bucolic Joshua, Texas. Madeleina is on the couch behind me, watching Saturday morning shows and cartoons in here, my office, because the damned remote for the living room television isn't changing any channels anymore, despite having new lithium batteries. We're headed out to the chicken coop in a little while, to continue the work Madeleina and my friend Mike did, which is to put string across the high posts around the coop as a sort of string-roof that might keep the big, beautiful, chicken-eating red tailed hawks away. We're gonna try to make it a sort of spider web, so that even if a hawk gets in, he/she will have a tough time getting out. When Mike made it he used kite string. We're going with twine. And then we're gonna do what he did, which is put silver foil strips on the string to help confuse the birds. The hawks, I mean, as the chickens are already plenty confused without any help from us.
And then I'm gonna finish the second section of front porch fencing--jeez that job has been going on forever! and get that in place, leaving just one smallish section. Hopefully it will all be done tomorrow so that I can paint it this week after I do a good Chloroxing of the porch floor.
And then I'll put a story I'm working on to bed on Monday. And then I can start working on the cover stories I've lined up. Sweet!
This morning Chepa called from her boyfriend's in Indiana. She's missing being home, missing Madeleina, Marco, Italo, Sara and Taylor Rain. Well, down here we're missing Chepa's laughter but we're also missing Sierra and Alexa. I'm glad they're getting so much time with their dad, but at the same time, how much time is too much time? What about us? Specifically, what about me? I miss the heck out of those little girls. I miss them messing up the house, pulling dozens of books from the bookshelves to give me to read to them; I miss them asking "And what about the donuts, Mr. P Garman? Don't forget the donuts!"; and I miss them jumping on the trampoline, being afraid of goatguy and having me carry the both of them to the chicken coop to keep him away from them. I miss their laughter and how they play with Madeleina. I miss 'em a lot.
The trade off is that when Chepa and the girls are here I lose time with Madeleina when she's at Chepa's.
The lesson? If you can avoid it, don't do anything to help break your family into pieces, because, like Humpty-Dumpty, even if you can later make the best of it, it will never be whole again.

My Book Offer

So the hard cover copy is actually available and a friend wrote about it and then I responded with this. Either I believe I really have a pretty good book or I am very very full of mierde, as we would say in Spanish. But you know what I'm saying. So here goes.

Dear X: IF you are so inclined and don't mind ripping your friends off, the hardcover edition of Ayahuasca in My Blood--25 Years of Medicine Dreaming is now available from Lulu.com at the outlandish price of $45.
If anyone wants to know what absolute strangers think of it, go to amazon.com and look at the reader's reviews. There are seven of them and they're surprisingly good. Better than that: One reviewer calls it the "best book I've ever read, on any subject", which is pretty high praise. One reader wrote on the forums.ayahuasca.com page (under the section on "Books") that "Peter Gorman runs through superlatives like cheap shoes," echoing Mickey Spillane to explain me.
I do think this book is great. Otherwise I wouldn't have spent 25 years thinking about it and then writing it.
So everybody should get one, tell 20 friends (assuming they like it) and then buy 10 copies to get their Christmas shopping done in August. How's that? Get it done! Have it finished! Who wants that nagging list coming up. Just buy lots of copies of my book, either through Powell's Books, Amazon.com, Lulu.com, BarnesandNoble.com or the 12 bookstores in England, France and the US that are now carrying it.
How's that for pushy?
It's really a good read, I think/hope. Anyone who buys it and thinks they were ripped off (worth less than $2 an hour for reading time) will be reimbursed by me, author, personally.
Peter G
PS: If you thought 6 hours of reading were great and worth $4 an hour, and then the other 6 hours were worthless, you will only get a $1 refund because I average out your ecstasy with your agony. But I will trust you all to tell me how it broke down.