Apr 28 20
Being correct is impossible for a human, except of course in pointing out errors in other humans. Therefore most live in fear of being criticized, hiding in plain sight, in groups, only risking mild admonishments — domesticity vacillating between low-grade torpor and anxiety. Being venturesome is rare in this world — being venturesome and poetic rarer still. By “venturesome” we mean possessing courage enough to leave the group and chance its varied wraths (nothing binds people more than shared reproach). By “poetic” we mean something like stalking the edges of belief and meaning, whilst struggling to channel the inscrutability into a medium —these are people whose curiosity outlasts their fear. The late and supremely great Terence McKenna was such a person.
Terence McKenna was of the latter 20th century; he did what might be called performative speculation (group talks, workshops, lectures and the like). He occupied a space not easily categorizable. He was a writer as well, but to experience him one really has hear him. He was a tourer and documenter of the farthest perimeters of consciousness, of which his transport was mainly DMT and psilocybin. He spent countless, intense, inquisitive hours in places that most still consider to be illicit, unmentionable and invalid — though no doubt his speculations have already invisibly informed much.
McKenna was dazzlingly deep and cosmically funny. At any given time he had full command of pop, arcane, and literate culture, forging wild combinations with his special nasal drawl. Because of his singularity there was often an unfortunate sense that he had to intermittently dumb down his theories to suit his audience’s reference levels. His unique sophistication outstripped both the new age and the academy. At his best he pulsed with an electric, perilous brilliance.
We think McKenna is ready to be exalted and re-filed; the canon needs a new section.
Listen: The World and its Double, lecture, 1993
Terence McKenna was of the latter 20th century; he did what might be called performative speculation (group talks, workshops, lectures and the like). He occupied a space not easily categorizable. He was a writer as well, but to experience him one really has hear him. He was a tourer and documenter of the farthest perimeters of consciousness, of which his transport was mainly DMT and psilocybin. He spent countless, intense, inquisitive hours in places that most still consider to be illicit, unmentionable and invalid — though no doubt his speculations have already invisibly informed much.
McKenna was dazzlingly deep and cosmically funny. At any given time he had full command of pop, arcane, and literate culture, forging wild combinations with his special nasal drawl. Because of his singularity there was often an unfortunate sense that he had to intermittently dumb down his theories to suit his audience’s reference levels. His unique sophistication outstripped both the new age and the academy. At his best he pulsed with an electric, perilous brilliance.
We think McKenna is ready to be exalted and re-filed; the canon needs a new section.
Listen: The World and its Double, lecture, 1993