Preview: Erik Davis's High Weirdness: Drugs, Esoterica, and Visionary Experience in the Seventies

Erik Davis, a writer and religious studies scholar, has been a favorite of mine every since I discovered his podcast Expanding Mind. Part journalist, part psychedelic seeker and part scholar, he explores the world of shamans, mystics and believers of the paranormal while keeping one foot solidly in rigorous academic and journalistic skepticism. So, when High Weirdness, his PhD thesis from Rice University's Department of Religion, was published, I picked up a copy right away. 

Cover Art by Erik Roper

"Weird" may not strike readers as an academic term, but perhaps the broadest goal of Davis's book is to define "weirdness" within the scholarly discourse. "Weird" is a distinctly contemporary term, a common exclamation that crosses all class of jargon. If something is off, out of order or remarkably inexplicable, it's "weird!" Within a scholarly context, Davis argues, that weirdness occurs when something unexpected, or unexplained, breaks into our otherwise rational conscious reality. Weirdness is when a person or group of people see and experience phenomenon that disobey the rules of our rational world. Weirdness encompasses religious miracles (Jesus walking on water), hallucinogenic drug trips, UFO sightings and everything in between.  

To explain Weirdness in a religious setting, Davis explores three individuals: psychedelic seeker and ethnobotanist Terrence McKenna, countercultural figure and mystic Robert Anton Wilson and famed sci-writer, Philip K. Dick. Davis also explores the cultural milieu of 1970's California as a ground-zero for Weirdness -a sort of modern "holy" land of new mystical and religious movements, illustrated by the extraordinary experiences of McKenna, Wilson, Dick and their contemporaries. 

In his intro, Davis lays out an impressive academic groundwork, building on the theories of Michel Foucault, Georges Bataille and, most notably, William James. In the rest of his book, Davis hopes to examine the concept of weirdness in the California counter-culture of the 60's and 70's through the lens of religious studies.     

High Weirdness: Drugs, Esoterica, and Visionary Experience in the Seventies was published by The MIT Press and Strange Atractor Press in 2019.

Preview: Georges Bataille's The Accursed Share Vol. 2

After reading the preface of The Accursed Share Volume 2, I was comforted to know that I was at least as confused by Volume 1 as Bataille's contemporaries were. And, it seems that Bataille actually intended to confuse his readers a bit. "I do not now wish to dispel a malaise that I have deliberately provoked," he wrote. "I believe this malaise is necessary. Let one consider the abyss that is open for humanity!"  

Bataille does, however, connect some of the dots he laid out in his first volume. For example, he explains that Volume 1's study of General Economy focused on consumption, particularly needless consumption as an inevitable fact of human existence. Naturally, I found myself asking asking this: "If needless consumption -or profitless operation- is ethically beneficial, or if it fulfills a social need, is it not necessary rather than needless?" 

A woman walks through the Lurie Garden in Millennium Park

Bataille begins to answer this question by introducing the idea of eroticism. Eroticism, Bataille contents, is a base energy that has a huge impact on the human mind, and consequently on human behavior. Unlike sexuality, which is quite useful and necessary for reproduction, eroticism serves no purpose; it's the shameful taboo side of sex that's always present, but never acknowledged in polite society. Bataille makes clear here that he intends to shift his readers' focus from a study of energy consumption in the physical world, to a study of excess within the mind itself.

Anyone who has seen a middle aged man driving a two hundred thousand dollar sports car knows he's wasted that much of his wealth. But does the driver of that car know? In his own mind, he's getting something for the expenditure, prestige, excitement, and maybe something more. Perhaps he's captured the gaze of a beautiful young woman or man who would've paid him no such attention if he was driving, say, a Toyota. Then again, maybe that thought is just fantasy, the daydream of a man who should know better than to think a Ferrari alone would be enough to make up for his glaring insecurity. In either case, Bataille's leap from consumption to eroticism is an enticing turn.

The Accursed Share Volumes 2 & 3, published by Zone Books in 1991, is translated by Robert Hurley. The original book, titled La Parte Maudite, was published in France by Les Editions de Minuit in 1967.          

Reading Journal: Jorge Luis Borges's “The Circular Ruins”

Borges writing makes me feel as if he wrote the story for specifically me, as if he knew where I was at in life, my thoughts, my memories, etc. Like a portrait of a person that seems to be looking at you no matter where you stand, Borges' characters always seem to be a manifestation of our deepest thoughts, no matter where our minds are at. Perhaps it's his minimalist setting and description, which requires readers to fill in the details with our own imagination. Or maybe it's the magical properties of Borges' worlds that defy worldly description. Either way, "The Circular Ruins" remains one of my favorite stories by one of my favorite writers. 

This, my second reading of "The Circular Ruins," was remarkable. I recall reading it a year or so prior, and the title stuck with me. It inspired the name of this very site. Admittedly, I didn't remember much about the story other than it was about a man who sought to dream up another person. Having read it again, with the attention I usually reserve for scholarly works, I was reminded why I find Borges' writing so enchanting.

The main character in the story, the "silent man," comes from the villages of the south, "where the Zend tongue is not contaminated by Greek" (1). to sleep in the ruins of a circular temple. He resolves to sleep within the walls of the dilapidated temple, but not because he is tired. He's on a mission to dream. Specifically, to dream of a person and make him real. He tries first to dream of a class of students and narrow them down to one individual, a protege to receive the man's lifetime of wisdom, but this attempt fails.

The silent man then, exhausted by sleeping (paradoxically), wanders the jungle awake for many days. Once he's sufficiently tired again, he prays to "planetary" gods, for assistance and falls asleep again. This time, the unnamed man is more successful. He dreams a new person, a son, from the inside out, beginning with his beating heart. It takes years of sleep, but eventually a skeleton, organs, and skin are created, and a new person is born (or manifested). 

The Piedra de Tizoc, a 15th century Aztec sculpture.

Fearing that his newly created son would be hurt if he knew that he was something created by a dream, rather than born into life, the unnamed man doesn't tell the boy how he came into being. He decides, rather, to send him on his own journey north believing that he is as real as any other human. 

I won’t spoil the ending of this tale entirely, but I will hint at it. The unnamed man experiences a not-so-surprising revelation about his own origins, and how he himself came into being. In this revelation, Borges leaves readers with his signature twist. But unlike the shock ending of an M. Night Shyamalan film, the story eases into it, letting readers gradually come to know the truth, the way the silent man in the story does. 

I'd encourage anyone interested in postmodern philosophy, Magical Realism or short fiction to give any of Borges' short stories a try. His work may be particularly interesting to contemporary sci-fi fans, especially those of you keen on world building. While Borges' fiction is not science fiction per se, it does invoke many of the deep philosophical questions about existence, consciousness and virtual realities often present in the best sci-fi writing, television and film.  

"The Circular Ruins" appears in Labyrinths New Directions Paperback (2007), edited by Donald A. Yates and James E. Irby with additional contribution by William Gibson and Andre Maurios.