sun stare/naked thorn hill climb/blue rose vision

[David Dalton]

Here is an excerpt from my Salmon on the Thorns web page:

Shamanic call: Sun stare, naked thorn hill climb, blue rose vision

I have retitled this as Sun Stare to avoid conflict with native groups who
believe that my experience was not a sundance and/or the term sundance is
exclusively native.

Now I will get to my September, 1991 mystic sun stare/thorn climb/blue rose
vision first manic episode, at the age of 27.5, or 2.5 solar cycles, 2-7 days
before new moon, with onset 2-3 days after an M-class solar flare. I'll
subdivide this page later, or add more navigational jumps. It is written in a
rather dry prosaic first person style which might put people off more than a
third person account or mystic poem/story laden with glorious symbolic
imagery would, but some like facts.

In early August of 1991 I was back in Newfoundland, and experienced a stellar
folk festival, including the last time I heard Newfoundland fiddler Emile
Benoit (last album was Vive la Rose, named after a Belgian folk song) live. I
think he used to swirl the chi at concerts as well as I do or better, since
on one occasion when Figgy Duff was on stage I felt something and turned
around and there he was dancing. I thought of his music while on the thorns
(later).

Not long after I returned to Vancouver I and some friends caught an amazing
near-sunset outdoor concert from Sarah McLachlan, at the PNE bowl, Aug. 28,
1991. During her set a formation of dark birds wheeled by in the background,
reminding me (now) of some "mermaids" (humpback whales) I had heard on the
Southern Avalon in the summer of 1983, also backed by birds and a mystic
sunset. Anyway, Sarah's voice flowed through me like a river, leaving me
buoyed up later, but not hypomanic yet.

That week I was busy planning orientation activities for the UBC grad student
centre, including a big concert with celtic rock band The Stoaters, plus
hoping to have some geophysics Ph.D. thesis work ready to show my supervisor.
This stress and associated sleep deprivation also contributed to the
intensity of the mystic manic episode, later.

Then on the afternoon of Saturday, Aug. 31, 1991, I walked down the hill to
deliver a deposit cheque for my fall Iyengar yoga class to my new teacher,
Gioia Irwin, who I had not met before except by phone. When I met her it
seemed as though there was an energy about her (not visual), a lightness, and
this transferred to me --- after I gave her the cheque I bounced up the hill.
This I have come to realize was a proximity-induced raising of kundalini, or
shaktipat, though in some cases it is more sudden, and can even manifest like
an epileptic seizure. In this case it was one of many factors (including
music) and was gradual. But it is well known in the Kundalini literature that
such shaktipat awakening of Kundalini can trigger or be equivalent to a manic
attack. I wonder if some of other such cases still living have cycles similar
to mine, most bipolars do not.

In the evening of Aug. 31, 1991, there was a crack or two of clear sky
lightning, just after sunset. Such flashes have occurred at the start of two
later waning crescent hypomanic episodes as well. One morning of that week,
about Sept. 3, there was another flash through my curtains, but that was
probably a reflection of sunlight off moving glass. I postulate that clear
sky lightning flashes result from ionospheric activity 2 to 3 days after an
M-class or larger solar flare.

That evening (Aug. 31) I had an excellent seafood meal at a Greek restaurant
and then dragged some friends to a multi-media performance concert at the
Pitt International Gallery. This had art on the walls, performance poetry,
improvisational jazz, and two rock bands: Zza Zza & the Angels (or Limos?)
and Rockaway Revue, to whom I did some ecstatic sweaty dancing to 3 a.m. This
creative stuff and dancing was another factor in the manic trigger.

After the multi-media performance art/rock show, I went home and took a
shower and then, in the early hours of Sept. 1/91, a shower of ideas began.
At first all were good and related to my grad centre orientation plans, but
then after a day or two I was trying to write down too much and implement too
much for that year by myself. The ideas expanded in circles to healing
problems with the campus and then to establishing a grad student run think
tank to solve many of the problems with society. I put some of this in a
slightly garbled memo to the university deans and president, and after that
my supervisor talked me into setting a psychiatrist's appointment for Friday
September 6.

As it turned out, not all my ideas that week (Sept. 1--5) were bad; my
concert organization resulted in the most successful event in the history of
the UBC grad student society, on Sept. 13, but I missed it since by that time
I was in hospital.

Then on the late morning of Thursday, September, 5, 1991 I awoke refreshed
and feeling that all was right with the world, that a new age was at hand;
that all the people who were in for "20 years of boredom" (to quote Leonard
Cohen) were coming back, and that there would be a meeting at Vancouver's
nude Wreck Beach of lots of hippies/celts/pagans/new-agers/gypsies/etc later
that day.

That day I saw beautiful linkages in all my music and books, and left them
strewn around the apartment. I played stuff such as John Lennon's Instant
Karma/Give Peace a Chance/All we are Saying from the Shaved Fish LP. I put on
every button I owned, then decided they looked too gaudy and took them off. I
then left my watch/keys/wallet there, left my apartment door wide open (and
at the time the building front door was unlocked) and an incredibly long
orientation week event listing on my GE answering machine, and then walked
off towards Wreck Beach.

I walked east on W.4th, then through Jericho Beach (folk festival site), then
Locarno/Spanis Banks East/Spanish Banks West and towards Tower Beach, a few
hours before sunset. But I didn't make it to the (watch)Tower Beach, let
alone Wreck Beach.

Sun stare: A few hundred meters east of the first tower I began gradually
stripping off as I proceded forward. First went my nice Banff centre
sweatshirt, then brand new runners and socks, then my sweatpants, then
finally about a hundred meters east of the first tower (around the bend so
the tower is not visible, I think), I dropped my few-month old red glasses in
the shallow water to be completely naked (well outside the nude beach area)
and with out of focus vision of anything more than a few inches away. During
the stripping process I chose my path carefully, as if it had symbolic
meaning --- i.e., it mattered whether I went around a log or over it, under a
net line or over it, and so on. Also I symbolically linked land and sea by
tossing a floating object into the trees and a beach rock or log into the
water.

Just before this there was brief vision of a number of spirits, like a stream
of blurry spirits flowing by, one with a western hat. I rarely (almost never,
except for this day/night) have any visions, and interpret this as those who
had done something like this before.

This stripping, and the sun stare (next), was also witnessed by a few people
on the beach, including an old fisher.

Then I waded out to knee or hip deep water. It was near high tide. I then
began a "call to the sun" with little leg movement but arm gestures at the
sun, and some noises, perhaps a chant of some kind. I don't remember if I had
Sarah McLachlan's song Into the Fire ("I shall stare at the sun, until its
light doesn't blind me") in mind but may have, at least subconsciously,
though that was only one factor, and I had not thought of her much all week,
if at all. I certainly did not have that song in mind when I set out that
day. The next line of the song ("I shall walk into the fire...") I now (1997)
interpret as related to coming out of the solar low forsaken/wilderness year,
the ashes of the Hindu cremation ground, into new creativity.

I then began staring at the sun, a white throbbing disk, when the time was
not much more than two hours before sunset. Normally I would have sneezed to
avert the eyes, but this time did not. (Luckily I did not have my -11/-10
diopter lenses on, so any focus formed well off the retina.) Instead I stared
intently until it seemed that my entire being was extending out and calling
to the sun and even beyond, in some sort of tunnelling effect, I think a
glimpse into higher dimensions, and sort of as if you placed two mirrors
facing one another and peeked inside, that sort of curved tunneling (which
also looked like a divine curved horn of oil with its wide mouth towards me).
I was caught up in a powerful mystic experience. It was as if there was a
higher dimensional unfolding, as if the 3 dimensions tilted or dimpled
somehow and there was a wraparound effect, as if there were giant butterfly
wings folding in around me. I, a mere mortal, grabbing at the skyhook, was
then overloaded and blacked out for an instant. I fell forward into the water
and came to almost immmediately, and with back arched and chest up floating
as if in the upward-facing-dog pose of the yoga sun salutation (inhaled and
chest up so I wouldn't drown). So that was sort of baptism by nature in a
way, and possibly extension to my higher dimensional form that I have
gradually learned to use some I think (and may continue to gradually learn to
use) later and as a result I think I may have some special abilities though
some of those are episodic, and I have yet to prove objectively that I have
special abilities, but to me, subjectively, they appear to work at times.
Some discussion of such will go in the sectionavatar-1's, avatar-2's,
Yoginis, devis, and soul (http://www.nfld.com/~dalton/avatars.html) when I
complete that section, it currently isn't there yet but may be by the time
you read this. But note that I have no divination ability, even though in the
past I have thought I did.

This was observed by a few people, including an old fisher, who then got me
to pull on his net (perhaps for luck? or I may have imagined the request) but
seeing that I was not much good at it (my brother James would be better), he
gestured me away. Perhaps he was Musqueam but I suspect Greek Canadian.

Also as I began up the hill away from the beach, leaving my clothes and
glasses behind, I put my hand on a pair of flip-flop beach sandals that
someone had left on a rock, and a young couple told me to leave them, to get
my own stuff. But I stupidly did not go back for my stuff or forward along
the beach to the nude Wreck Beach, but straight up the sandy, not thorny,
slope towards (supposedly) the grad centre where I wanted to get (naked :-])
before sunset.

My eyes were not damaged much if at all, probably partly because the pupils
closed up a bit, partly because it was two hours before sunset and not high
noon, partly because a full sun disk is actually less damaging than an
eclipse sliver, and partly because my eyes are so bad that, with my glasses
off (they were), the focus formed well in front of the retina. I don't
recommend anyone else trying this "sun stare" unless he or she is inspired
and also very short-sighted like me.

So anyway, on the hill I could not see much, but that was just because of my
lack of glasses (plus later the dark night of two days before new moon).

As it turned out, though I didn't know, the point where I stopped for the sun
stare is below the thorniest hillside along NW Marine Drive (not far east and
slightly down the hill from the Museum of Anthropology) in Vancouver's
Pacific Spirit Park. Blackberry (actually they may be a similar species with
thicker vines) thorns spill from out onto NW Marine Drive at the top to down
about 2/3 of the way to the beach. The top is now cut back a little for a
bicycle path but is easy to spot, lots of thorns, near/above the first
residential street intersection with Marine Drive as you go down, not the
first patch of thorns as you go down NW Marine Drive but a much bigger patch
with perhaps 5 m of extent next to the bicycle path; in fact I am more sure
of the top location now than the bottom.

But at the bottom it was a sandy slope, and I had no indication of the pain
in store my naked body. As I started up the sandy ground gradually got
steeper and then more overgrown and slightly thorny. Eventually I admitted to
myself that I wouldn't get up to the grad centre by sunset and thought I
would be left behind in some exodus, having opened the way. (But no, we were
all left to work towards heaven on earth.) I then did a
mini-stare-at-the-sun, this time through a leaf, with a much slighter upper
samodhi/kundalini surge effect (no lower chakra shakti surge, which developed
since). On the way up some tree sap fell on me and I ate it.

After that it gradually got dark, and I progressed on upwards. It got
thornier and thornier, but I felt that this would be over soon, this must be
the worst. Eventually I came to one clay/sand area with few thorns, a hollow
with lots of thorns above it, and there felt kind of paranoid that the
military were out to get me. I hid there, pretending to be a rock or tree,
and waited, cold and alone for all noises to cease. I was cold, and in an
attempt to stay warm I masturbated but I forget what woman I fantasized
about. I doubt it was Sarah McLachlan since I didn't fall for her until 1992.
This attempt to stay warm didn't work very well (I remained cold and the
orgasm was rather weak). I slept briefly, then went onward, around 3 a.m. I
would guess. Before I went on I was "air fiddling," sending some Emile Benoit
tunes to the new moon (actually it was two days before new moon, it was early
Sept. 6 and new moon was early Sept. 8) and the ocean, my left hand the sky,
right the ocean, me in between. [words in the sky, music in earth, me in
between, song to give birth]

As I went on it got even thornier, a complete covering of the hillside with
overlapping thorny vines, with thorns spaces so than a finger could not grip
the vine between them, and blunt enough that they pierced the outer layer of
skin but not much further, so I did't lose much blood. But both hands and
feet had to be supported up the steep hillside on thorns, and it was actually
less agonizing to stay stuck on them than to move a limb up from one set of
thorns and place weight on the next set. It felt like an evolutionary
stairway to heaven; I felt like a salmon caught in a net and at one point
said out loud or just thought silently "let this atone for the deaths of the
Beothuck people."

Every time I thought I was over the worst, suddenly there was more (else I
would have turned back long before). For a while I was actually screaming a
bit, but it being near 4 a.m. (I think) nobody came, except I heard dog
(Coyote?) footsteps approaching the thorns and then receding, once. (This was
under Raven new moon skies [actually it was two days before new moon].)

Eventually I got near the top, and just before the top had a clear vision of
a glowing blue rose, of a colour blue that is partway from sky blue to sea
blue, but is closer to sky blue. At the time I did not know or think about
the mystical significance of this, but just admired it briefly. I did not
touch it because it was the only one, and tried to smell it but if there was
any smell it was very delicate.

This rose was not a fuzzy or moving image or in the mind's eye or closed eye
vision, but actually growing right there in front of me, three-dimensional
and sharp, the clearest vision by far of any I have ever had (I don't have
visions, usually) if it was a vision (i.e., if another observer there could
not have seen it and a camera there could not record it). I saw it clearly
from close up, just inches away from my eyes and I forget if it was clear
close up and fuzzier at a distance due to my lack of glasses or not.

Since this I have thought about it a bit but not talked too much with others
about it. The mystic blue rose (like the one in the song Bright Blue Rose on
Christy Moore's The Voyage recording) is I think an important Sufi symbol. In
Christianity there is the rose of Sharon, and also the blue dress of Mary.
The rose is an important symbol in Ireland. But for me the blue rose
symbolizes the living planet, the earth, Gaia (who some call Mary).

However, I am not associated with any religious organization nor do I intend
to start one. My current individualistic/eclectic spirituality is described
on deities and beliefs (http://www.nfld.com/~dalton/deities.html) and its
subpages. I also try to live by my non-religious messages, on my main
messages (http://www.nfld.com/~dalton/messages.html) and derived messages
(http://www.nfld.com/~dalton/un.html), but they are non-religious messages
and I do not consider them part of my individualistic/eclectic spirituality
working theories.

Oh, and for some the blue rose could symbolize the fragrant blue Krishna, or
equivalent to the blue lotus. Originally I called it a blue flower, since I
knew there were no blue roses, but it did look more like a rose than lotuses
I have seen pictures of. I suspect the words for lotus and rose in some
ancient (or even modern?) Indian language/dialect and/or Romany are similar
in pronounciation at least, and would appreciate knowledgeable comment on
this.

Shortly after the blue rose vision I came to the final clump of thorns, a
hedge-like mass spilling out onto the grass next to NW Marine Drive. I could
not get over this steep clump by lifting one leg first since it would have
caused my genitals to be hooked, which I wanted to avoid. So I had to do a
salmon leap forward onto my belly and scramble on all fours over the clump. I
made it!

The instant my tortured feet hit wet grass it felt like heaven, but then I
had to move, and walking even on wet grass (and then on pavement) was agony,
so I went back to hell. Without my glasses I could not read street signs from
very far. The pole lamps looked like balls of light, unfocussed and glowing,
or tree ornaments, or glowing insect eyes. I wandered from door to door a bit
(like the hero in Rawlins Cross Wild Rose song), drank from an outdoor tap
(which was designed for a garden hose but didn't have one attached when I
drank from it), initially went up the hill toward UBC but then turned around
and went off on a side street.

It was a grey morning, like the grey fairyland of celtic myth, pre-dawn, and
there was no sign of life, even no natural sounds, just some of distant
engines on the water. I began to believe that everyone else had "gone on" and
left me behind in a world devoid of good sounds. But then I heard an early
morning shakuhachi (or native) flute player and wandered that way. However
his or her gate was a complicated one to my naked eyes, like a closed Nitobe
Garden inner/outer gate (actually Nitobe Garden gate is simpler, this was
like the wood-bounded path between the Asian Centre and Nitobe Garden gate
plus Nitobe Garden gate). So I went next door, where there was a fountain in
the yard, and plonked myself down on the outdoor carpeted doorstep between
two large potted plants. Later the homeowner asked me to go away or he'd call
the police; I asked him to call me an ambulance, and he did, and they took me
to UBC hospital not far away.

In the Emergency ward I had the thought my hands were converted into healing
devices by the acupuncture effect of the thorns, and tried to get up to help
a woman suffering from bee sting reaction. But staff restrained me gently,
and wheeled me off to the mental health ward. My first night there, when they
closed the main doors I felt caged and paranoid and placed one hand under the
tap, one in the toilet, envisioned a river running through me, and invoked
Gaia to protect me.

Also for the first few days my thorn-damaged hands recieved mini-shocks from
metal cutlery, so I had to wrap it in a paper towel. I think this was some
kind of acupuncture/chi effect, due to the natural acupuncture effect of the
thorns, and may be why many Asians do not use metal cutlery, but instead
other materials.

I was fine after a few days, but stayed in for a few weeks while they
gradually built up my lithium.

I forgot to mention a few things about the five week hospital stay.

In addition to the tingling when I picked up metal utensils, I also was a
vegetarian for the first few days, then reverted. (Since then I have gone
back to a lacto-ovo-pisce-vegetarian diet, from Sept94 to now.)

In the drawer of the room I was first admitted to, a previous patient had
left a copy of the third book in Fred Pohl & Jack Williamson's The Starchild
Trilogy. This book, Rogue Star, is partly about intelligent stars, and I
found this a spooky coincidence given the sun stare episode.

My doctor's name was D. (David, I think) Irwin, so the same last name as my
yoga teacher.

In my room after the first day or two I began practicing some basic yoga
asanas, including the shoulder stand. After the first week or two I was
allowed out around campus during the day by myself. I missed the first yoga
class, but after that hospital staff allowed me to go off campus on a bus to
my yoga class, then back to the hospital for the night, and even kept my
supper for me. I don't think they were supposed to do this but it sure
helped. My yoga teacher Gioia Irwin probably didn't know that for the last
few weeks of Sept91 and the first class of Oct91 I was in mental hospital.
Since I had to rush off after class I didn't get a chance to tell her then.
Perhaps I should have phoned her from hospital. Later I did tell her that I
was on lithium, and experienced occasional waning moon highs, but not muh
about my mystic experiences, sparks, tingling, etc. I owe her a long letter
soon. For those in Vancouver I highly recommend her as a yoga teacher.

Earlier in my narrative I mentioned how the pre-dawn hours of Sept. 6, 1991
were grey, like the cold grey fairyland mentioned in the recording by the
Irish band Deanta (who I haven't heard yet) and also in the partly fictional
book The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. When I was picked up by
the ambulance I had slept twice, once amidst the thorns and once on the
doorstep, and was under the impression that it was Saturday, not Friday.
Hence for a while I thought there was a missing day.

When in the hospital, not long after coming mostly out of it with the aid of
Ativan and Haldol and lithium, I wrote an "AGU Abstract" (American
Geophysical Union fall meeting Abstract) supposedly for presentation at the
December fall meeting in San Francisco. It combined Gaia theory, the
collective consciousness and the theory of an intelligent cyberspace, and
said that humans could act as white blood cells in healing the physical
problems of Gaia (environmental problems) and provide self-counselling
strategies to heal the mental ills (social problems). This I called
"SocioEnvironMental Health" or something (I have it somewhere). But my
supervisor and friends gently dissuaded me from sending it in (actually by
the time I had access to mail/etc. I had no intention of submitting it).

[David Dalton]

Post by David Dalton
Shamanic call: Sun stare, naked thorn hill climb, blue rose vision

Sorry for the duplication. My newsreader Hogwasher crashed
the first time I posted, and when I restarted it this post was
still in the Drafts folder so I reposted it.