“If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern.” – William Blake
Many science-fiction and fantasy stories in the late 20th century included thematic examples of spiritually-empowering ecology. Psychoactive botany, and the associated kaleidoscope of effects, appear as archetypes in literature, film, and the television screen. More specifically, Frank Herbert’s Dune series, George Lucas’ Star Wars, and Konietzko and DiMartino’s Avatar: The Last Airbender are all modern examples of fables involving protagonists who come into direct contact with mystical ecology. In this essay I will suggest Paul Atreides’ heroic deeds are accomplished because he willingly surrenders himself to the spiritual ecology of Arrakis. In contrast, I will suggest Luke Skywalker and Avatar Aang are examples of heroes who suffer because of their refusal to embrace ecologically mystical teachings. Conclusions regarding psychoactive ecology and their handling in society are considered, as well.
In Frank Herbert’s Dune series, Paul Atreides provides a prime example of a hero who embraces the mystical properties of his planet’s ecology. The titular planet Arrakis – called ‘Dune’ by its indigenous people – provides a compelling setting for the epic storyline. The planet’s harrowing desert ecology itself becomes an agential force influencing the characters and plot: “[Arrakis] was alive. It had a pulse as dynamic as that of any human.” (Dune Messiah, 81) Of the ecological mysteries penetrating Arrakis, none is more valuable or potent than the mysterious melange. Amongst a myriad of functions, including allowing space travel and elongating lifespan, this “spice” grants brief prescience to those with a psyche so-inclined. But in the Atreides bloodline, it produces transcendental awareness shifts resulting in an “awakening into timelessness where all things are possible.” (Dune, 217)
The Fremen religious tradition – surrounding the use of this psychoactive spice, melange – acts as a catalyst for Paul’s transcendence. The melange is a sacrament in the Fremen religion specifically because of its psychedelic potency. Paul, Alia, and Jessica all find themselves awestruck when faced with the ineffable realizations revealed through the “spice-change.” (295). What is crucial about Paul’s interactions with this mystic ecology is, instead of resisting the change like Luke or Aang do, he gives “himself up to it.” (295) By letting go and surrendering to “illumination” (296), Paul harmonizes himself with the empowering nature of the spice “prescience” (296) and feels no pain at the resulting “diminishment of his self.” (314) This is in direct contrast to both Luke and Aang who suffer both defeat and dismemberment as a direct result of their refusal to cooperate with their botanical guides.
Paul’s eventual apotheosis in Dune is a direct result of an encounter with another potent Arrakeen psychedelic – the Fremen ‘Water of Life.’ Paul lies “as if one dead” (441) after doing what only Reverend Mothers have dared to do before: convert a single drop of the “sacred water.” (441) By doing so successfully and surviving, Paul confirms his identity as the prophesized “Lisan al-Gaib”; the prophesized “one” who can “be in many places at once.” (442) Immediately upon awakening from his “sacred trance,” (441) Paul sends his consciousness cascading over that of his mothers – an action which, while she recovers from it, leaves Jessica feeling like she was “stepping on solid land after weeks on a heaving sea.” (444) Paul inherits the feared prescient awareness capable of existing “outside of time,” (445) and by surrendering to it, he realizes his potential as the Fremen religious messiah.
The implication that an ecological agent could catalyze a consciousness-expanding epiphany seems right at home in science-fiction novels – even more so those published in the wake of the 1960’s psychedelic blossoming. What’s important about Paul’s apotheosis is not just that it was ecological forces that accelerated the awakening, but that Paul willingly surrendered himself to them. Of note as well is Paul’s marriage to Chani, a Fremen native who is the daughter of the Arrakeen planetary ecologist, Kynes. This nuptial marks a literalized bond between the feudal political world of the Atredies, and the indigenous ecological wisdom of Arrakis. Paul’s intimate proximity to the Fremen – romantic, ducal, martial, and spiritual as it is – denotes a protagonist who has completely surrendered his decrepit way of life in favour for a novel fusion of Atreides values and Fremen ecological prowess. Paul is the embodiment of the blending of the two cultural powers, and once the spice-change is introduced, Paul’s ascension to galactic emperor is only a matter of time.
Another example of a science-fiction hero who encounters ecological mysticism is Luke Skywalker. In Episode V: The Empire Strike Back, would-be Jedi Luke encounters planetary spirituality in the form of Yoda and his swamp in the Dagobah system. Both master and planet represent ancient forms of wisdom: Yoda embodies nine centuries of ancient Jedi teachings; the swamp symbolizes the spiritually animistic force (perhaps, Force) behind Nature. Both Yoda’s Jedi wisdom and Dagobah’s swampy growth are nothing short of mystical, and their fusion as the setting for Luke’s Jedi training evokes both physical and metaphysical conclusions. The failure Luke provides us is twofold: Luke fails to surrender himself to the Force and disobeys Yoda’s teachings, as well as abandoning his Jedi training altogether after envisioning Han and Leia in pain. This results in him losing an arm, and discovering his father’s true identity is Darth Vader.
After training young Skywalker for a brief period, Master Yoda finds it imperative to point out an area of the marsh – supposedly “strong in the dark side of the force” – and suggest that Luke enter it (Episode V: “Jedi Training”). When Luke inquires as to what lies inside this threatening “domain of evil,” Yoda cryptically responds: “Only what you bring with you.” Author James W. Jesso, in his book Decomposing The Shadow: Lessons From the Psilocybin Mushroom, suggests Luke’s Dagobah trials are a metaphor for a psychedelic journey. Through Jesso’s paradigm, Yoda becomes “the wise inner voice…of the psilocybin-enhanced intellect,” (166) meaning Luke is not just resisting his master’s wisdom, but also the metaphysical wisdom of the mushroom. Even more importantly, Jesso’s suggestion reveals that Luke ignores the wisdom inherent in him, too. Jesso’s stance parallels my belief that that the entire bog planet itself represents spiritual ecology; the swamp itself is a mystical force of Nature that, when embraced and surrendered to, can grant tremendous revelation.
Despite Yoda reassuring him he would “not need” (Episode V: “Jedi Training”) his weapons, Luke straps them on anyways before entering the unknown grove. Yoda’s teachings, while enlightened and well meaning, fall on deaf ears; Luke’s inability to let go of his own restrictive belief systems cripples his training progress. Moreover, Luke trusting in his weapons rather than the power of the Force reveals the state of his psyche. Luke would rather hold on to his egoic defense mechanisms than surrender to the Jedi way of life. By bringing his lightsaber with him, Luke demonstrates his unwillingness to trust the mystical ecology attempting to aid him.
Naturally, and in concordance with our psychedelic metaphor, Luke’s resistance only makes his ecological trial all the more terrifying. Undergoing a proverbial ‘bad trip,’ Luke encounters the apparition of Darth Vader. Vader is Luke’s anti-self; terrible and dark. Darth Vader’s appearance in Luke’s altered state represents that which Luke fears most: the dark side, defeat, and – although his conscious mind doesn’t know it yet – his father’s identity. And just as Yoda suggested, Luke comes face-to-face with a hostile threat that the viewer can’t help but believe would not have been present had Luke left his weapons with Yoda. Upon beheading this psychological revenant, Luke discovers the face behind the Sith Lord’s mask is in fact his own. Luke’s self-destruction – or in Campbellian terms, “ego-death” – demonstrates Luke’s destiny if he continues to be negligent and irritable towards Yoda’s teachings. Luke is shown that he will only find defeat down the path of the dark side, and it takes a psychedelic self-death for him to realize it.
Furthermore, Yoda introduces Luke to the idea of Force prescience. Yoda suggests: “Through the Force, things you will see: other places; the future; the past.” (“Seeing the Future”) When Luke tastes this future now available to him, he foresees his friends in great agony. Much like Paul or Aang, Luke’s prescience has an immediate emotional impact on him, and when he sees Han and Leia in pain, he has no choice but to abandon his training. This is in direct contrast to one of the very first inquiries Yoda makes regarding Luke’s worth as a potential Jedi: “Will he finish what he begins?” (“Yoda’s Hut”) Despite warning Luke that leaving his training undone would “destroy all for which [Han and Leia] have fought and suffered,” (“Leaving Dagobah”) Luke’s mind is made up. Yoda attempts to warn Luke of the dangers of leaving his work unfinished: “If you end your training now, and choose the quick and easy path as Vader did, you will become an agent of evil.” (“Leaving Dagobah”) The tempered, hyperdisciplined regime of the Jedi holds no interest for Luke, now that he knows his friends are in danger. Luke forsakes his training with Yoda – Star Wars’ version of mystical ecology – due to his egoic attachments to his friends. As a result, he is promptly dismembered at the hands of Darth Vader, and suffers the horrifying realization that Vader is in fact his father, Anakin Skywalker (“Vader’s Revelation”).
This archetypal pattern – the ‘acolyte abandoning the master for earthly desires’ – appears in more than just movies. Just like Luke, Aang – the hero of Bryan Konietzko and Michael DiMartino’s television show Avatar: The Last Airbender – is an example of a hero who suffers as a consequence of abandoning mystical ecology. Aang, like Luke and Paul, exists as a hero prophesized to restore harmony to a divided world. And like my previous examples, Aang has incredible power dormant in him that he needs to learn to control. When a spiritual expert named Guru Patik offers to teach Aang the fundamentals necessary to mastering the Avatar State – a defense mechanism capable of granting Aang earth-shaking power – he happily accepts.
Guru Patik, the Avatar universe’s wise old man, explains to Aang that he “must gain balance within [him]self before [he] bring[s] balance to the world.” (Avatar, 2.19: “The Guru”) While the balance between internal harmony and external harmony remains applicable to all three of our heroes, Aang’s internal conflict is literalized through Patik’s teachings. Before Patik begins to unpack Aang’s Avatar State block, he offers Aang a bowl of something that “tastes like onion and banana juice,” and claims it is “the first step to gaining balance.” (2.19) Many indigenous rites of passage involving psychoactive botany, including traditional Navajo, Peruvian, and Mexican shamanism, do so orally by consuming the plants as tea. The Amazonian shamans native to the Peruvian rainforest heal using the plant sacrament ayahuasca: a combination of a vine and a leaf boiled for hours before being ceremonially drunk at night (Eliade, 64). A notoriously putrid-tasting beverage, ayahuasca – just like Patik’s “onion and banana juice” (Avatar, 2.19) – both initiates and catalyzes the drinker’s visionary experience. Curiously, some traditional shamans themselves drink the psychoactive brew before performing their healing rites (Eliade, 79); Guru Patik himself drinks his own bowl of the same liquid right after Aang spits his out. This, plus Patik’s belief that his horrid beverage is the “first step to gaining balance,” both evoke shamanic imagery and ayahuasca allegories quite vividly.
After drinking, Patik and Aang travel into the temple’s sacred gardens. There, Patik uses the pools of water to teach Aang about chakras. Aang learns that chakras are “pools of swirling energy in our bodies,” just like the pools of water in the Air Temple gardens. Patik uses the collected debris blocking the pool’s flow as an example of how “life is messy.” (2.19) Already, Aang’s spiritual cleanse is influenced by the omnipresence of external distractions; distractions which eventually rip Aang away from this very spiritual exercise. It is these external stimuli that “fall in the creek” and inhibit Aang’s energy from flowing “pure and clear.” (2.19) After warning Aang that opening the chakras will be an “intense experience,” (2.19) Guru Patik makes it clear that Aang “cannot stop until all seven are open,” lest his Avatar powers be blocked entirely (2.19). Like Yoda before him, Guru Patik expects his initiate to complete the training he’s sought out.
Echoing Hindu mythology, Avatar’s universe has seven chakras, each of which corresponds to a part of the human body. These chakras ascend from the root of the spine through the crown of the head. The seven chakras are also designated elementally, as well as by the kind of “emotional muck” which can block them (2.19). With each ascending step in the sequence, Patik and Aang move up a location in the temple that environmentally corresponds to the associated chakra. This pathetic fallacy becomes simultaneously internalized and externalized, as the water chakra is opened near a waterfall, the fire chakra above a smoky hot spring, and the thought chakra at the peak of the temple surrounded by stars (2.19). Of note as well are the varying airbender statues in the background of these scenes; the seated, meditating airbenders provide a visibly spiritual connection between the physical and the psychospiritual.
Aang’s chakral ascension involves overcoming or accepting many psychological obstacles. These include: addressing his fear of survival; forgiving his past disappointments; accepting his identity as the Avatar; and transcending the illusion of separation (2.19). The recurring theme, both in Aang’s chakral openings and this essay, is “surrender.” (2.19) Guru Patik continuously encourages Aang to accept “these things happened” and to realize adversities are often great learning moments. Aang is shown sweating, crying, shaking, in the throes of hallucinatory terror, and generally reacting spontaneously to each new challenge. No reaction is more candid, though, then Aang breaking meditation to question Patik’s instruction at the final chakral stage.
At the top of the air temple, Patik reminds Aang that once he has closed the ‘thought’ chakra, he will “be able to go in and out of the Avatar State at will, and…will have complete control and awareness of all [his] actions.” (2.19) The final chakra deals with “pure cosmic energy” and is “blocked by earthly attachment.” (2.19) These two forces rage within Aang the same way they conflicted within Paul and Luke; where Paul accepts the atemporal imprisonment his omniscience reveals, Luke and Aang let “what attaches [them] to this world” literally hold them down (2.19). Patik advises Aang “learn to let [earthly attachments] go,” despite Aang protesting when he realizes he’d have to “let go” of his loved one. But Aang agrees, and we see him walking a holographic stairway above the earth, literally approaching an enormous, cosmic version of himself with the illuminated arrow and eyes symbolizing the Avatar State.
But, just like Luke, when Aang briefly embraces this cosmic power, he gets a vision of Katara – his earthly attachment – screaming and in chains. Aang runs from his cosmic self and subsequently falls from the sky back down to Earth. This prescient glimpse was enough for Aang to immediately exclaim: “Katara’s in danger, I have to go!” (2.19) Patik’s urgent caution mirrors that of Yoda’s when he warns Aang about the dangers of “choosing attachment.” (2.19) Aang willingly abandons his training knowing that he “won’t be able to go into the Avatar State at all,” (2.19) and, like Luke, Aang suffers fatal dismemberment following his choice of attachment (2.20: “The Crossroads of Destiny”).
These examples from science-fiction and fantasy works demonstrate that spirituality can be nurtured or awoken through interaction with mystical ecology. Paul’s example, as the only success discussed above, stands alone as the prime topography for any spiritual undertaking: acceptance, surrender, risk-taking, self-assurance. Luke and Aang, on the other hand, represent the materially-bound initiate whose spiritual quest is not yet prepared to take that next step into transcendence. Luke and Aang’s examples both present strong occasions of dismemberment and death which, taken in context, allude to the immediate devaluing of the material world that follows these introspective exercises. Perhaps proper metaphysical guidance – akin to that of the Fremen, Yoda, and Guru Patik – along with the appropriate and respectful use of mystic botany, could reinvigorate the spiritual practices of a world filled with the echo of religion.
References
Eliade, Mircea. (1951) Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy. Bollingen Series, Princeton University Press
Herbert, Frank. (1965) Dune. NY: Chillton
…………………… (1969) Dune Messiah. NY: Chillton
Lucas, George. (1980) Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back. LucasArts.
Jesso, James W. (2013) Decomposing The Shadow: Lessons From the Psilocybin Mushroom. SoulsLantern Publishing: Calgary, Alberta.
Konietzko, Bryan & DiMartino, Michael (2005) Avatar: The Last Airbender, Nickelodeon.
Voice of (t)Reason 