A
Multiple Induction from Ayahuasca Beyond
The Vipers Enchantment
A Real Experience
Sex Dragon
Anatomy of Reptilian Rape
Sex Dragon 2
Double Exposé
COMING SOON!!
Cici´s
Mirror
A Parallel Play on Life
By Cici
COMING SOON!!
El Secreto de la
Serpiente
La Otra Historia de la Humanidad
Por
Cici & Wiz Kininigin
(En Español)
COMING SOON!!
My Creative Juice
Glossary of
Transpersonal Demons, Angels
& Others
COMING SOON!!
Overcoming
the UnderTroll
A Hell of a Whale of a Story
COMING SOON!!
The Astral
Gallery
Real Illusions and the I Ching
By Emma Palmer
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 INITIATIONS
A MULTIPLE INDUCTION
FROM AYAHUASCA BEYOND
By Experiencer: Wiz Kininigin
There
really is no beginning...
All comes
and goes with the flow...
My eyes, reality itself, become zillions of tiny swiveling diamonds waving
and bending like a mirrored curtain, a meshing myriad of crispy polygons
looking in several directions all at once... Whatever the thought,
instantly the reflection... Being here there then now... I swallow hard as
my soul peels off the back of my neck and then... pass the bitter brew
along.
Ayahuasca or Yagé. Soul wine. Boiled from a serpentine jungle vine...
Simultaneously winding and unraveling... It knows the power of insight.
Suddenly, there I am... thrust from a bridge, falling into darkness, only
the hissing sound of the sinuous shimmering river far below, I go speeding
into infinity, my ankles tied by a very long elastic Bunji rope... It was
a poignant metaphor for what was to come.
My adult
life had barely debuted and already I had been harnessed, put to toil in
the social inertia, pulled by tense taunting strings, compromised in a web
of lies, my projects rusting on hold, my dreams, my being... wired.
Then, providence. The mysterious rainforest summoned me forth and
behold... a liquid solution to all the mess. I dived into the mighty
elixir of the jungle goblet with nothing but my fury and my fantasies.
I had no intention of returning to a dead end future, and I didn’t... I
reactivated into the living now... jolted in the cocoon... awake in the
void... trespassing the hologram maze… a seedling wandering in deep space…
minded flights to a polyhedron sphere which I later knew was the moon. I
understand I’ve seen things I wasn’t supposed to... Nevertheless, the
mystic euphoria was far too appealing, so I explored
even more omniscient cocktails of sacred plants... San Pedro,
Peyote, Psylocybin,
Mezcal,
Floripondio...
But because of my recklessness, there had been no consideration I might be
ripping, slashing, gashing the veils of consciousness and that maybe
‘others’ could see me too... possibly taking advantage of all the blind
spots... reading me... our very DNA an open book.
The bowl circles round again... This time I ponder the viscous soup.
There is only an opaque glaze of my reflection. I take a deep breath and
gaze before me... The shamanic church... It is when we see ourselves
through others that the lessons really begin... the human weaknesses, the
jealousy, personal power trips, vulnerabilities, hierarchies,
obsessions... These passions that race through our veins. Smoke billows
in my face and the face of Carmina, a sun dancer shamaness flares into
view, her eyes sparkling, penetrating... Our own affair with passion was
always ambiguous until... The moment calls me back and I lift the
awe-full ale to my lips as it oozes in like slime water. My mind cruises
vertigo... I am beyond movement, beyond speech. Someone lifts the bowl
from my light speed fingertips... A sequence of flashes ripple reality,
fluttering my vision... my head throws back and I look again... There I am
amidst stage lights and spectators, my buddy Gabreal beside me... We’re up
& coming, out to shake the world, a shamanic revival performance group on
a lightning streak.
However, I was also naively dabbling with the occult and along with
Gabreal mixing with vice... We were a scheduled attraction. Then, during
a breakaway tour to a foreign country, the unpredictable happened...
something bit me... a spellbinder named Koral. She appeared beautiful,
bewitching... Through her my being was cast with a Vipers Enchantment. I
was enticed by her intellect, lost in her thighs, she snaked her way,
folded the show, and my towering illusion tumbled into wretched misery. I
was enslaved to her weirdly ways, barely grasping my sanity. Until, a
freak accident with her collar bone kept her still, and the aid of an
unknown one-armed shaman eventually led to my release, although I could
see the road ahead was swiftly being intervened.
Alas, with my liberation from her warm, wet,
luscious dungeon, I returned homeland and discovered ‘Salvia Divinorum’,
the divining sage. Emerging beyond the sea of time, I could see in all
directions at once; the great pyramid, volcanic eruptions, visions of what
was to come… and then, obsessively, I beckoned her to Babylon where we wed
during a major planetary alignment. One perplexing year later as a
California beachside couple, on our anniversary day, the new knowledge I
had been invisibly guided to and intended to share elsewhere now
systematically conspired against me.
As I read the brief phrases of her strange
farewell note, instantly, mercilessly, the stinger was yanked from
within... my heart and soul hemorrhaged... devastation... crisis...
walking in circles... drowning in muddled memories... cursedly aware...
fierce psychic attacks... She wrote for divorce on September 10, 2001! At
that point my life went utterly bankrupt, my mind quarantined, no access
to the past or the future, I was a ghost. After a fathomless period of
profound redemption, my emptiness gave space for divine assistance. At
the climax of my 9 month deliverance with the physical death of Andrea,
another mysterious female who appeared minutes after Koral abandoned me, I
served as a vehicle for her wandering spirit for 3 lingering days and
nights. On our final evening as one, we arose beyond, when an omniscient
voice overtook me, simply saying: “That was that universe, now
you’re going to another just the same, yet different.”
That phenomenal history is the turning point of my past life opera.
I
feel a tug and am jerked back to a familiar scenario... My will bends
like rubber... the shamanic church, again. This time I’m here on a
mission of revelation and have conceded to one last defiant drink of the
magic potion. My ex-shamaness lover Carmina, now aged, is heading the
session and dedicates it to “The Enigma of Woman”. The eternal
feminine huffs and puffs and settles in, and while I stare into the moon,
the night becomes dawn, as the ritual is consumed. But my senses
avalanche as I struggle and befuddle with the unknown, tried so
desperately hard to wake others from their numb slumber, but all of this
has been foretold. My prophetic visions come forth, while my ambitions
turn to ashes… Unbearably as the final charge dissipates into disillusion,
grimly I must accept there has been a self-violation of my own freewill.
The gift of the vegetable chalice is highly taxed.
As
the blur finally stills, I find myself neatly tucked away from the world
in a cute little house in a most curious setting. Before me looms the
very same enigmatic mountain I was taken to in another space and time by
my lost love Koral. I pass a cup dripping with coffee to our elderly
country housekeeper, a carbon copy of Carmina. Their physical resemblance
is as baffling as their shared
character. Then I focus on my new companion beside me, sweet Cici. It’s
just too overwhelming. Our connection has the most inexplicable
supernatural implications. Physically she resembles Gabreal, my strayed
best buddy, yet ephemerally she evokes Koral!
I’m also perplexed at the nexus with Andrea. It was during her
presence in me that Cici and I first made contact.
Due to the incredible history I’d been through,
I was still overcome with fears... kept away from others, plagued by
voices of doubt and self-defeating resentment towards those who didn’t,
wouldn’t, couldn’t understand my own and the greater world predicament.
Yet always an artist, together we didn’t delay making the best of things.
Until surreptitiously something halted. One morning, gasping in
suffocation, my soul awoke me, my heart barely palpable, the stale
poisoned silence was killing me, I had to write something down and send it
off. Then, surely enough, the forces that be began to stir the thick
broth of destiny once more. This whole trip is far from over…
it is...
endless
©
Wiz Kininigin
(a Pseudonym) is an Artist/Anthropologist.
©
Initiations
is part of a real life testimony.
©
2007
All commercial rights of original texts reserved by the Author.
©
2007
All commercial rights of original images reserved by the Artists.
This document is intended for Research and Education in the Public Domain.
E-mail: wizdom@kininigin.com
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