Cloudscape

It might be that many psychoactive plants, such as Saint John's wort, a herbal antidepressant, did not evolve their psychoactive substances through mere coincidence. If it was coincidental, it might have occurred in a few plant specimens, but it wouldn't have come to be present in every single specimen of the species. Evolution does not happen without reason. If a mutation occurs and it is useful, then there's a chance that it is passed on onto next generations, but if it has no use at all for the species, then it will disappear.

Obviously, it must have been some use for these substances. Thus, either the psychoactive effect of these substances on animals was useful for the plant, or the psychoactive effect of these substances is a side effect of the substance's real use to the plant. However, as no other use of these substances has been observed, and the plant only wastes energy on producing them, it is obvious that we should assume otherwise.

Moreover, most plants containing psychoactives contain several psychoactives with a similar effect, even though these psychoactives are very different in structure and composition, so that they are unlikely to have been produced in the same chemical pathways. For instance, compare the substances hyperforin and hypericin found in Saint John's wort: hyperforin is aliphatic, whereas hypericin is cyclic. Hyperforin is derived from phloroglucinol, while hypericin is derived from anthraquinone. Either psychopharmaceutical cannot be produced through the combination of the other with other molecules present in the plant, contrary, for instance, to the substances found in Rhodiola rosea, an antidepressant and alleged adaptogen.

Why would a plant produce two different psychoactives with similar effects in entirely different ways? It might therefore be that for some reason, their psychoactive effect increased their odds of survival.

Perhaps these plants, much like the silk worm do today, have always depended upon human cultivation, and developed their psychoactive effect from the artificial selection of humans, much like livestock developed their increased body mass from human selective breeding, or like dogs developed their obedience. As selective breeding shows, human influence can cause evolution to accelerate dramatically, so that it is very well possible for thousands of medical and psychoactive plants to evolve in only tens of thousands of years. What is clear is that herbalism has existed for at least 5.300 years, based on a body found in the Swiss Alps with medicinal herbs among his personal effects.

When some plants of a species developed a mutation causing them to produce psychoactives, someone would have discovered it eventually, especially if their effects were short-term. If the effect was pleasant or interesting, the discoverer might have decided to find more of the plant, and grow some for later. As the plants which were grown were selected according to their potency, they became more and more distinct from their original species generation after generation, so that they eventually formed an altogether separate species.

It is also likely that many medicinal plants evolved in this way. However, it might also be that certain plants containing medicinal substances might themselves have had uses for it, for although plants have no nervous system which might react to psychoactives, they do have a biochemistry, which, though it differs immensely from that of animals, nonetheless also has many things in common with it.

Plants whose effects were long-term were probably only cultivated in later periods, in the Neolithic, since it was unlikely for anyone to discover the effects of long-term working psychoactive or medicinal plants unless they happened to grow amidst the crops. In this case, the plants were likely to be reaped along with the crops, and parts of the plant may have been eaten by accident, or their substances where inhaled during threshing.

While the first Agrarian Revolution happened only 10.000 years ago, a more primitive form of cultivation might have been possible much earlier, since it requires no actual agriculture to grow psychoactive plants for consumption. After all, psychoactive plants can be used at relatively low amounts to have their desired effect, whereas agricultural plants need to be grown in much higher quantities to provide for food. The Amazonians have almost no agriculture, yet they cultivate ayahuasca using cuttings. In fact, despite their lack of agriculture, they call the Amazon a "cultivated forest," that is, a forest that they helped shape. The existence of ayahuasca might be an indicator that to some extent, the Amazon might indeed be called a cultivated forest. It seems that, at the least, they did help one particular plant to come into being, though the liana, as one might expect, is rare.

Among the psychoactive plants, there are two types: some are symbiotic, and some are parasitic. Basically, a psychoactive plant is parasitic if it is addictive, because the cultivators then no longer use the plant out of their own volition, and therefore, it no longer matters whether the plant has any actual benefit to them; whether it benefits them or not, it is already ascertained that they will continue to cultivate it. The cultivators do not base their selection of addictive plants on whether or not it is healthy, but merely on how well it satisfies their addiction. It might therefore be said that, as a rule, addictive psychoactive plants are never healthy.

The symbiotic plants are the kind that are cultivated because they are of benefit to the users, and are invariably not (or barely) addictive. Most of these plants either act on long-term, such as herbal antidepressants. Among the short-term acting varieties, the overwhelming majority are entheogens.

For instance, the Amazonians use ayahuasca as a medicine for physical and mental illness, enabling the user to find the cause of the illness. Similar plants are found to be used by other Native American tribes for the same reason, such as the San Pedro cactus. Because of the medicinal use of these plants, it was, of course, important in their selection that they were healthy, and relatively safe to use. Those who cultivated these plants for medical use or as a means of self-improvement obviously choose those strains that proved to be the least harmful and most beneficial.

One could say that this could be vaguely compared to a clinical trial, except that the guinea pigs were actual humans, usually the shamans or the natives themselves, and without the procedures of scientific method, such as double-blindness or follow-ups. Moreover, the results were only passed on through folklore and were never written down, and because there was never a careful analysis of the users' health, only the significant findings were noticed: in people who lived in such primitive conditions, such petty symptoms as a skin rash were easily overlooked. Despite all these drawbacks, however, I believe that these trials were not without merit, for they were repeated countless times over thousands of years. Because any strain of the plants that proved to be less toxic than the rest, they evolved until they became of the very low toxicity of which they are today.

For instance, cannabis, unlike tobacco, causes no lung cancer, and there even appears to be a negative link between cannabis use and lung cancer, indicating a protective effect. It has been hypothesized that cannabis contains substances which protect the lungs, because any inhalation of smoke would normally cause an increased risk of lung cancer. It seems very unlikely that a plant which is smoked would spontaneously develop substances which negate the damage caused by smoking by pure chance.

Also, it has been found that marihuana contains substances, such as cannabidiol, which are antipsychotic. Heavy use of marihuana can increase the risk of developing psychosis, and the presence of cannabidiol in marihuana could counter this effect. Unfortunately, modern commercial cultivation of dealers, unlike the wiser cultivation of the shamans, has overlooked this danger. Instead of choosing the strains of cannabis based both on safety and potency, they based it solely on potency, ignoring safety altogether. Because of this, the ratio of cannabidiol to the other cannabinoids in marihuana has decreased, which might in part be responsible for the increase of psychosis among seen among heavier users of marihuana today. That this ratio has changed again so quickly because of human cultivation is an indication that the selective breeding of marihuana had once been based on the presence of the cannabidiol, for if it would always have been based solely on the concentration of THC in the thousands of years it had been cultivated, as it is now, the cannabidiol would by now have disappeared or nearly disappeared.

Ironically, another way in which some plants proved to be safer than others was through a bitter taste. Almost any psychedelic plant there is known tastes extremely bitter: kratom, san pedro, peyote, psilocybe, salvia divinorum and ayahuasca are all renowned to be thoroughly disgusting. Marihuana is very bitter when eaten, which might have been how the plant was originally used. Of all psychedelic plants, the most disgusting of all is ayahuasca, and it is accordingly also the most potent. In addition, the psychedelics can also cause vomiting if too much is used, and new users of ayahuasca almost invariably vomit, although more experienced users are able to keep from vomiting the brew. It appears that this bitterness is meant as a warning to those who use it. New users are more likely to be stop eating early, repelled by the taste, while experienced users, being more used to the taste, would be better able to conquer their disgust for it. Aside from this, the bitterness is also an indicator of the plant's potency and the dosage the user takes in. To unprepared users, it can be a foretaste of the suffering it might bring about if they are not ready for the experience.

A German and Dutch proverb actually says that what tastes bitter is healthy: "Was bitter dem Mund, ist dem Herzen gesund," which is also used in Dutch as "Bitter in de mond maakt het hart gezond." While it is true that many medicines taste bad, this is only an issue in herbal medicines, which need to be eaten or swallowed as a viscous brew. It is very likely that this bitterness is meant to ensure that the right dosage is used. It seems too coincidental that practically every psychedelic plant there is is bitter in proportion to their potency.

Everything should be in moderation, and anything that is in excess will be dangerous. The thing is that it is far easier to use drugs in excess than it is to do something else to excess. Usually, it is very hard to do something to an excess, as it will become harder the more we then do it. When we do something to excess, our body usually warns us of this, but this is not the case with drugs. For instance, if one trains too hard in the gym, one will eventually be stopped by fatigue and cramps, but there is only a very small step between swallowing a single pill and an entire bottle. The most important reason why drugs are so dangerous is that our body does not stop us from using too much. If our body did not stop us from feeding or drinking too much, it would be equally dangerous.

Ergo, for herbal psychedelics to be safer, they needed something to replace the body's own feedback mechanisms, such as a bitter taste. It is unlikely that the shamans consciously choose the psychedelics for their bitter taste in the knowledge that this would moderate usage. Instead, they probably merely observed that people who only used the bitter variety were healthier.

Most psychoactive plants which aren't addictive appear to be harmless or even beneficial to health. On the other hand, some plants might also use psychoactives as a poison like any other, either to warn animals not to eat them them or to kill those that did. Datura stramonium, for instance, is quite dangerous, and none that were so bold as to try to use it thought the experience so pleasant as to even consider cultivating the plant. Hallucinogens as a warning might be a pretty drastic warning compared to nettle sting, for instance, but may imprint a permanent traumatic memory even on an animal's inefficient memory. It is possible that the Amanite uses this same strategy, as an addition to its physical toxicity.

Aside from those meant either to keep animals from eating the plant or psychoactives meant to coerce the user into cultivating the plant through addiction, however, most psychoactives found in plants seem to be largely beneficial.

The notion that these plants live in symbiosis with humans is reminiscent of the Gaia hypothesis, which posits that all organisms in the biosphere are part of a greater superorganism; and although there is clearly not by far as much union between the organisms of the biosphere and the cells of a single organism, there do seem to many symbiotic relations between different species. In the end, any species depends on countlessly many others, and many depend even on us.

Envision microscopic permanent supermagnets dissolved in water, coated with a material which adheres to water and having a microarchitecture which furthers its absorption of water: perhaps it could then be possible to quickly repel the water itself with a larger magnet. This could be used to dry something or, perhaps, to remove the water from an area around the magnet so as to do something beneath where the water surface had been.

That our society inclines towards yang might be because of our primal ancestry, for the African jungles in which they lived are a very yang environment: basking in sunlight, broiling with heat, brimming with life, whirling with activity and abundant in food. Vivacity, hedonism, sociability, industriousness and materialism are all values characteristic of our species, and they are also all very yang. Scientists have already found that war is something we inherited in common with primates from our evolutionary ancestry, and so are language and community; why then, not materialism? That so much of the earth's surface is covered with our factories might be a direct consequence of the fact that we share our original homes with the primates.

Yin and yang can be hard to reconcile. The only reason that nature has managed to combine them is that this was necessary for it to exist at all, since neither yin nor yang can exist by themselves in any form at all. It was needed for nature to achieve this balance between yin and yang in order for it to be able to evolve at all. We must be cautious to retain this balance.

Yin and yang cause one another; yet at the same time, they also avoid one another, as night shuns day and day shuns night. Try at all times to be mindful to be balanced between the two. Do not fear sadness when you are in joy, and do not fear joy when you are in sadness, but try to accept that one flows into the other as day and night. There can be joy in sadness and sadness in joy, and neither is above the other.

As our species are more yang than yin, we tend to fear sadness rather than joy, even though, when our joy remains too long, it will turn into anxiety. Some who are in sadness, on the other hand, fear joy when it comes to them. Try to accept both. Do not deny your sadness, but neither deny your joy. We must accept it when one has to succeed the other. The same counts for all things yin and yang, such as work and rest, or society and solitude.

See also:

Opposing Opposites

Positive and Negative

Pain is our way of repelling what we do not want. Pleasure is our way of attracting what we do want, which may include the absence of something we don't want. Thus, both can be means of achieving the same purpose. The difference between the two is but that one painful and the other pleasurable. Thus, focus on what you do want, not on what you don't want.

Perhaps all the symptoms of schizophrenia, paranoia in particular, are a direct result of ego-splitting, in which the person's sense of self, or ego, becomes split into separate compartments which seem to assume a role of their own. For instance, the person's own thoughts may seem as though they are those of someone (or something) else, leading to the delusion that thoughts have been inserted into the person mind. These thoughts which have separated from the ego may then turn to intrusive thoughts or voices.

At the same time, if the ego has been split into many compartments, it becomes harder to focus one's attention on one specific compartment, because one's thoughts have basically become scattered across each of these many compartments. In this way, one's attention may become distracted as it rapidly shifts from one train of thought to another.

In ego splitting, the central part of one's ego is still in one's physical body, but most of it has become transferred onto other areas of one's consciousness, such as daydreams, to such extent that these may become extremely vivid. These may then have such impact on one's emotions that they seem real, whereas the part of the ego concerned with reality has become so small that real events have a much smaller impact on one's emotions. The result is an increased response to imaginary stimuli, and a decreased response to real stimuli. In other words, the ego has partly dissolved into imagination.

In addition, parts of the ego may become transferred onto objects in the person's environment, so that it seems as though these are alive, or as though they contain cameras, microphones or other means through which they might be spied upon, or it might seem that the person can control these objects with his mind.

This may also happen with people: when parts of the ego are transferred to other persons, the person's emotions about him- or herself may become projected upon them. It follows that if the person has a high self-esteem, this may lead to the feeling that people will likewise have a high esteem of him or her, increasing the feeling of high self-esteem and so forth. This interaction may lead to grandiloquence. On the other hand, if the person has a low self-esteem, this may lead to paranoia, because he or she then projects his or her feelings about him- or herself onto others.

In addition, some people who suffer from self-loathing may use daydreams to punish themselves, especially people who have a lot of imagination. They may do this by hurting themselves in their thoughts, but also by making other people hurt them in their daydreams. In one's daydreams, one has the ability to exert full power over all things, and for people who live largely in daydreams, this ability might distort their image of reality, leading to the delusion that reality differs little from daydreams.

As the ego splits up, the person comes to feel one with things that are in reality separate from his physical self. In this way, the person's sense of separation becomes blurred. This may cause the feeling that people are too close to oneself and so worsen the sociophobia already caused in part due to the paranoia. Furthermore, because of this lack of sense of separation, it becomes as if all things in the world are in fact part of the person's own mind, things that are therefore controlled by the person's own thoughts. As the person dissociates from their own thoughts, however, and they come to appear to take a form distinct from the ego, it seems as if their thoughts are not their own, and that they are instead thoughts that they pick up from other people.

Furthermore, because of this lack of sense of separation, it may also seem that everyone is much too close to them. Close enough, for instance, to harm them, or to read their thoughts. Strictly speaking, this is not in itself ego splitting, since the ego is one's sense of self, and the paranoid still knows the difference between themselves and other people, and does not see them as part of themselves as one would see one's arm as part of oneself, for example; but the feelings they believe others to have towards them still originate from their own. This is so because the paranoid's sense of self has partly dissolved, so that they no longer recognize these feelings as their own.

If the person hates him- or herself, it may seem to them that the entire world hates them. If the person is also self-destructive, it will seem as if the entire world is keen on destroying them. But to paranoids, this feeling becomes so extreme that is no longer a mere emotion, but a reality to them.

One might argue that ego dissolution is not the only thing that may cause paranoia. Traumas can be another cause, for instance, which neither directly nor indirectly have anything to do with ego dissolution. On the other hand, one might question if this is paranoia at all, since people who develop fear of people because of traumas have an actual reason to do so, namely, the chance that the trauma might repeat itself. The traumatized person's estimation of this chance isn't even necessarily irrationally high, but he or she is so terrified of this chance that no matter how small it may be, it is still significant to him or her.

In ego dissolution, emotion has become a continuum from the ego to empathy, with no well-defined line in between, and so emotion can readily flow back and forth from the ego to empathy. At the other extremity, in the case of egotism, the line between the two becomes an impenetrable wall that cuts the ego off from empathy, and the little shared emotions there are are attributed to the ego.

It may be that schizophrenics are highly empathic, though this does not have to mean that they are compassionate, and, if they have low self-esteem, they will likely not be.

Some Buddhists, and other practitioners of meditation, practice a form of meditation called metta meditation, or compassion meditation, in which the meditator tries to generate compassion for living beings: first him- or herself, then loved ones, then acquaintances, then enemies, then strangers, and ultimately all that lives.

This form of meditation would not actually work with paranoids, because the issue with paranoids is not their own hate for others, but the imagined hate others have for them. However, if this form of meditation were reversed, it might actually serve as a potential cure or prevention for paranoia.

Since the paranoid's emotions have become projected onto other people, he must deal both with the emotions ascribed to the ego as those ascribed to others, meaning that he must re-place him- or herself in the place of others and then deal with the emotions he feels for himself in others' place.

To the paranoid, the metta meditation should be focussed entirely on the first stage of generating compassion for him- or herself, but from the viewpoint of others. In other words, he or she should imagine other people to love them and send them love. This is unlikely to work, but in the process, he or she might resolve the hate that he or she imagines others to feel for them, which is actually their own self-hate projected onto others.

As this form of meditation would require insight on the paranoid's part that he or she is paranoid, this would sometimes be more useful as a preventive than a curative method, at least in severe cases. Nonetheless, it can also be used in less severe forms of paranoia, or while the illness is already or still in full force.

As such, softness cannot be given; it can only be received. Softness can therefore only be given to another by vicariously receiving it in their place.

The goal is always love. You can either search that which you love, or love that which you find. If there is nothing left which you love, for instance if everything causes you suffering, you have no more choice than to try to love that which you find, even if everything you can find brings you suffering. If you are suffering, it is not enough to accept your suffering: you must love it, especially if there is no longer anything else than suffering.

As everything is relative, so everything is in itself equal in value, equally beautiful and equally abominable — infinitely beautiful and infinitely abominable. Everything being equal in beauty, and having no real beauty of itself, the only thing that we should seek is the perception of beauty in itself, since that is the only real beauty we will find. Or rather, it is the closest to real beauty we can ever find — for no beauty is real. Beauty is but in our minds. It is something we imagine, and by imagining it, we make it real.

Outside our imagination, nothing is ever beautiful, and this is a curse we must bear; for whatever we may think to be beautiful, it is never beautiful in itself, and so no beauty we ever see will last outside ourselves; and it may be that when we think we have found beauty, it is only to find later that it no longer holds any beauty to us anymore. If beauty lies but in ourselves, it can never be certain, for nothing that lies in ourselves is. What lies in ourselves can always change.

The tragedy is that the perception of beauty, which is all that matters in the universe, is infinitely fragile, and it may shatter literally in a moment through the force of suffering, or worse, ignorance.

Because perception is so relative, so too is beauty, and beauty can be perceived in literally anything at all, no matter how ugly we tend to perceive it. Thus, to find beauty one must not only seek what one sees as beautiful, but also see the things you have already found as beautiful. The perception of beauty is called love, though love may also be many other things.

Things have no value of themselves whatsoever. Things can only have value to us when we give them that value, and one can only give something value through love. If life seems worthless, that is because you give it no value. If life seems precious, it is because you give it its value. Neither is an absolute truth. But why should we choose to give only certain things in life their value in the form of love, while not others?

In a person who is bipolar, hypomania and depression both have the same cause and cause one another. Bipolarity is usually caused by with an increased sensitivity in some form or other, though increased sensitivity does not necessarily lead to bipolarity. As such, the bipolar cycle is merely an exaggeration of a normal person's emotional cycle between normal sadness and normal happiness.
However, at the same time, hypomania may cause depression and the other way around, as yin and yang usually do, much like the crests and troughs of the waves. For one thing, hypomania may lead to denial of problems. In particular, hypomania may cause an overconfidence which leads to an indifference with regards to negative emotion, so that these become repressed. When these become too obvious to still be denied, they at once come to the surface and may thus trigger a depression.
At this point, the hypomania may either gradually turn into a depression, or it may first turn into a mixed state: a nervous state of feverish excitement. The latter happens if the bipolar person still tries to retain his or her elevated level of energy despite the agitation, but this eventually becomes to painful, and he or she finally gives up to end up in a full-blown depression.
On the other hand, depression may then pave the way for a new hypomanic episode in a bipolar person. The withdrawal caused by depression gives one time to contemplate what one wants to change in one's life, so that, when one endeavors to achieve these changes, one's quality of life may improve. At the same time, one may become used to dealing with negative emotions.
Bipolar people often learn to objectivize their emotions because they are so changeable, thus making it clear to them that everything is highly relative. Realizing this, people with bipolar depression may be more likely in a depressive episode to work about their condition than someone with unipolar depression, knowing that a hypomanic episode may come afterwards which may be worthwhile.
Either how, depression may paradoxically improve one's outlook on life in anyone. It puts one before the choice between suicide, suffering or self-improvement. Eventually, if given enough time, one either chooses for suicide or self-improvement. One becomes forced to become more conscious and more constructive in one's thoughts and actions.
Moreover, depression creates an emptiness which forces one to detach from things one formerly took for granted, so that one is reminded of their value, and later becomes more capable of appreciating them and being thankful for their existence. In major depressive episodes, it may be that one has to let go of absolutely everything one ever enjoyed, simply because one has lost every bit of enjoyment of it. But only once you've let go of something can you be mindful of what it means to you. Becoming depressed and then recovering is like dying and then being reborn again.
Bipolar disorder is common among artists not only because artists are often more intense people, but also because art can be a way of dealing with emotions. In addition, however, their emotions may depend strongly on their art, especially because artists often have less social contact then other people. At the same time, their art depends strongly on their emotions. This codependence may spiral in turns into a depressive and a hypomanic episode.