The Cracking Tower: A Strategy for Transcending 2012

175 Pages·2009·1.02 MB·English

by  Jim DeKorne

For Suzanne Taylor, without whose kind assistance this book never would
have seen print
Gnostic Metaphysics
Working our way
From virus to Buddha
Through this cosmic kilo of particles,
We seek the Ptolemaic Deity
(Of whom we are the smallest part),
As He pedals His epicycle
(A humongous monkey-motion machine)
Along Eternity’s wire.
Now that we are this far along,
We may as well worry
About the net,
And what happens when
He reaches the pole
At the far end of the tent.
—Berkeley, 1965
Table of Contents

Preface: The Cracking Tower
Prologue: A 1960s Memoir
Chapter One: Defining Our Terms: Psychedelic Shamanism
Reconsidered
Chapter Two: The Structure of Reality Is the Structure of
Mind
Chapter Three: Unity and Multiplicity: The Solipsistic
Pomegranate
Chapter Four: Bodies Are Vessels of Consciousness
Chapter Five: Lost in the Cube of Space
Chapter Six: Solve et Coagula
Chapter Seven: Inner Guidance
Chapter Eight: Shaman as Bard, Shaman as Scientist
Chapter Nine: Archons Are Archetypes, Are Us
Chapter Ten: The Shaman as Prophet
Chapter Eleven: The Cracking Tower
Afterword
Appendix from The Gnostic Book of Changes: The Management of
the Work
Endnotes
Bibliography
About the Author

Preface
The Cracking Tower

A
cracking tower is an apparatus for distilling the most addictive
substance on this planet—gasoline. Crude oil is sucked from the bowels of
the earth and injected into the bottom of the tower where it is subjected to
extreme heat (about six times the boiling point of water). As this goop
evaporates, it sorts itself by weight into a fractional column of distillates.
The lightest fractions, like naphtha, benzene, and gasoline, rise to the top of
the tower where they condense at their molecular level and are drawn off as
liquids. Medium-weight fractions, like kerosene and motor oil, are taken
from the middle of the tower, and the really heavy substances such as tar
and asphalt are tapped off at the bottom.
The Ancient Wisdom, or “Perennial Philosophy,” suggests that planet
Earth resembles a cracking tower for souls. As we experience the stresses
of each life’s incarnation, our cumulative choices distill our awareness into
that element that determines our destiny at death. “Lighter” souls are
shunted to worlds matching their level of consciousness; “heavier” souls go
to their own appropriate realms. This process of distillation is
multidimensional and continuous until the eventual dissolution of what we
call reality itself. (Hindus would regard it as the end of this Mahakalpa.)
Normal adjustments occur within this alchemical process at celestial
intervals. Our planet is now approaching such an event. Within the past
twenty years a growing body of literature has emerged to advise us of a
major cosmic alignment focused around the date of December 21, 2012.
Many of these prophecies are deduced from the Mayan calendar, others
from shamanic vision quests using psychedelic drugs. Some groups imply
this date will mark the end of the world; a few declare that humanity will
ascend (apparently en masse) to a higher level of awareness; still another
asserts that we’ll either be absorbed or destroyed by a computerized
“Artificial Intelligence.” Who is right? What will really happen in 2012?
Don’t seek here for that answer; because whatever it might be (and nobody
knows for sure), it is totally irrelevant to your private welfare.
The question is not about what may or may not occur on 12/21/12, but
how to profitably shape your future. Not the world’s future (about which
neither you nor I can do anything consequential) but your own personal
future, which you largely hold in your hands. The Cracking Tower reframes
this entire discourse from the viewpoint of the Perennial Philosophy—the
archetype that underlies and defines human consciousness. Until we
comprehend its outline, all other dialogue is pointless. Yes, we will discuss
the “end of the world” in this book, but not until we’ve created a structure
within which to evaluate its meaning.
I am now, and always have been, primarily interested in the elemental
questions of the human condition: Who are we, where do we come from,
and where do we go after we die? It’s been that way for me since the age of
seven in 1944, when walking home from school one day I received the
uncanny gnosis that the street, the parked and passing automobiles, the trees
and buildings, etc., were totally unreal and that which was really real was
very cleverly hidden from view. “Reality” was mysteriously concentrated in
a huge CHEVROLET sign painted on the wall of a car dealership: I saw it as an
incomprehensible acronym containing and concealing the secret of
existence. (For a little kid just becoming fascinated with language,
Chevrolet was a mysterious word of power because it wasn’t pronounced
the way it was spelled—not in English anyway.) Every day when I passed
that sign I would get a quick brain-bleep reminding me of my original
vision. I was never able to break through to the real world on the other side
of the CHEVROLET sign, but I’ve spent my entire life searching for the
doorway.
In 1964 I discovered that psychedelic drugs offered a deceptively easy
access to that realm where the answers lay. But like any Grail quest (and
every life is a Grail quest), each opportunity is also an obstacle. Easy access
doesn’t guarantee an easy exit from the labyrinth of hyperspace—the
bleached bones of many an explorer are found only three feet from
paradise. Without a reliable map you’re lost, so I carefully continued my
quest and by 1984 had discovered my map in the metaphors of the
Perennial Philosophy.
In 1994 I published Psychedelic Shamanism, a book that presented a
preliminary version of the ideas offered here. That title became part of the
psychedelic revival initiated by the late, great Terence McKenna, and was
kindled by my attendance at one of his workshops in May of 1990. Deeply
impressed by this man’s intellectual charisma, I wanted to study, cultivate,
and sample the exotic new psychotropic plants he was describing in his
lectures. In those days there was little information available about
ayahuasca and its analogues, and my intent was to pool together as much
useful data as possible on those and similar plants. I’d just completed a
book about greenhouse gardening, and my publisher agreed with me that a
book on psychedelic botany would be a worthwhile project. Psychedelic
Shamanism was the result.
In 2006, that publisher went out of business, and my old book went out
of print. No problem: it was a dozen years out of date; I haven’t used
psychedelics in my inner work for almost that long; and now entering my
seventh decade, have lost all interest in catching up with the latest
discoveries in the psychotropic plant world. I was willing to let the book
expire. Then I reviewed its contents and came to the belated conclusion that
Psychedelic Shamanism hadn’t delivered on the promise of its title. I saw
that I hadn’t developed my real subject (the nature of human consciousness)
nearly as well as I could have.
After a lapse of fifteen years, I now feel that I’m able to present a fuller,
deeper exposition of this topic. Please note that The Cracking Tower deals
with psychedelics and shamanism only as metaphors from which fresh
inquiries can be introduced. It’s no longer a book focused exclusively on
either psychedelics or shamanism—it’s about “doing the Work in the space
in which you find yourself”—a mantra you will read several times in these
pages.
Therefore, to avoid misunderstandings among my readers, the following
qualifications are in order:
Q: Are mind-manifesting drugs valuable for doing inner work? (Notice
that this is a hugely general question, on the order of “Are antibiotics useful
for killing bacteria?”)
A: Certainly—it would be a lie to claim otherwise.
Q: Do mind-manifesting drugs provide an answer in and of themselves?
(“Is it reasonable to ingest antibiotics every day to ward off disease?”)
A: I can’t speak for anyone else, but in my case psychedelics have been
only temporarily useful. Once a solid connection has been established with
one’s true Essence, it is usual for psychedelics to be exchanged for a
traditional inner discipline. The reverse is seldom true.
In Psychedelic Shamanism I tried to condense these insights into a more
coherent, more sophisticated question. In The Cracking Tower I hope that I
have evoked solid answers that anyone can utilize in their lives and spiritual