Cotton Ferox - My psychedelic prayer

How does one carry on in the spirit of psychedelic illumination withouth being called an old hippie?

I have no idea.

How does one bring about radical, personal change for others to take further?

I haven’t got a clue.

How does one come to terms with the fact that the most grand and overwhelming changes all stem from subtle and quite often invisible sources and forces?

I have no say in the matter.

When you try to describe the essentially indescribable, there’s always the looming danger of becoming a missionary. And the missionary position is not necessarily the best one.

It’s never a question of specific vested interests or even of control of the masses. Let’s not get paranoid. Let’s not get frightened. Let’s NOT get lost.

It is however a question of a more profound quality. The one that constitutes the essence of what most people call their bad conscience. That quality is called honesty. You know what it means: Your own relationship to truth.

If everyone were honest, the world would be a very different place, wouldn’t you agree?

If we go beyond the enjoyable trip trappings, the sensuous neon lights of the soul, the creation of eternities in fragments of seconds, the upheaval of space dissolved in one human sublingual metabolism, one thing remains.

It always remains: The challenge to embrace honesty.