The wafer & incense of hell and its devoted congregation in pursuit of cheating salvation

NOT all who, from my micro-witnessing and awareness of addiction engaged it for financial gain. Though most did, I remember exchanging a biography of Albert Speer, the Nazi architect with the late Architectural Analyst of the then Ministry of Housing Compton Dick for his copy of Trevor Ravenscroft’s incredible mystical narrative of WWII and Adolf Hitler; The Spear of Destiny. I had discussed in the gym about a script and artwork I was working on for a graphic novel series. Compton suggested that this book was in a similar vein, and it would be good reading, so we did the exchange. Compton was a part founder of the gym I attended; it was indeed incredibly interesting, but not common with my script. I had made bookmarks on passages I found necessary in the novel. Another relative came by the novel; he was cued beyond my curiosity to certain narratives and not its foreboding warnings that were also included in the novel. Years later, in 2015, I learnt from a colleague of his, who was closer to him than I was, who back then worked at the Guyana Forestry Commission, that he was hooked on cocaine and they had him locked in a room in a popular hotel. This blew my mind, as I pondered arguments and discussions we had in the late 70s to early 80s. I should have put it together since then, but I didn’t understand the symptoms. I considered his delusional assumptions as belonging to a blown-up ego. I was so wrong, though right in the obvious ego observation, and so are many others in similar situations, for the ego is the arrogant rush that ignores the quiet voice of reason and the temperament of patient exploration.

One of the essential narratives of addiction is a promise of transference from a sedentary mental situation to a more enhanced mental consciousness, or even to the creative exotic, to also provide aphrodisiac sensual bliss. This has lured the ailing, the gullible and ego-tripping for ages, possibly with placebo successes in some areas, but also incited entrance into the imagination of diabolical charlatans such as ‘Jim Jones.’ But in the case of my relative, it was to provide passage to the mind-piercing entrance into other echelons of time and consciousness, to become a formidable mystic, and my book had defined one such historic figure, Adolf Hitler. The historic social background was not taken into account: that everything Hitler had used were long before perfected by the dark side of western civilisation; that with the aid of an incredibly gifted public relations creature in the name of ‘Joseph Goebbels’ and the defeated Germany of WWI in economic shambles, low national self-esteem, the atmosphere was right for a Wagnerian Messiah. So to twist culture, mythology and colonising racism into an ego brew that instilled a rush of self-importance and a dangerous national resurgence, with an ethnic scapegoat and all. My relative ignored the social clay waiting to be moulded into animation; the interest was only directed and concerned with the part in the book where Hitler met a dramatic herbalist who induced him to a shortcut to higher consciousness through the drug peyote. This drug and cocaine spiralled centuries of Aztec priests to tear the living heart out of drug-induced sacrificial victims and offer them as sweet cakes to a pantheon of so-called ‘gods,’ who had descended on earth from a distant galaxy, that alone should have awakened serious caution.

I had dismissed this fantastic book for years until I came onto Werner Maser’s biography of Hitler that dealt with Hitler’s drug addiction. I was amazed at the details of his damaged physical and mental health and the strange physician Dr Morell with his formula of drugs that he administered to his leader, what I considered was his balancing element was his artistic talent, which was dismissed by western writers; but on witnessing his watercolours in books, they were confirming to the agenda of the day. Amidst the abundance of narratives on mind-altering drug use in Ravenscroft’s book, I will extract one of the more direct; “Adolf Hitler, who actively aspired towards Luciferic Possession was to experience the very reverse of “Grace”, for the drug-induced awareness now channelled into his consciousness served to guide him towards his sinister and inhuman goals.”

The hippie movement was not restricted to North America, it happened here too. Those old enough and able to witness ‘PAPALONG’ on D’Urban Park, can remember the barefoot crew with frilled-out bell-bottomed jeans, with slogans on T-shirts and other clothing like ‘Satan’s Angels’ among other imported sentences written on clothing, would now recognise the earliest most serious mind-altering drug presence in our midst. The cult wave of the Hippie movement is attributed to the English philosopher Aldous Huxley, who was its herald through the record of his experiment with the very ‘peyote-mescaline’ and his luring analogies in the enticing book, ‘The Doors to Perception — Heaven and Hell’
There is a functioning obsession inherited from our colonial past that every action could only be considered if it is in the law books. We do not chronicle our cultural evolution and the accompanying social revolutions. There is a dangerous obsession that experiences that are not certified are not to be considered as worthy of discussion and merit; we are still colonial because we need to be instructed to do what do for themselves, but understood that it was no expedient to teach us to do for ourselves; this we need to have the courage to change.