perceptions of reality

I finished Castaneda's "the teachings of don juan" yesterday.

I had to frequently remind myself that this book was written to describe what Castaneda actually experienced, it isn't a fictional story. But it wasn't an easy concept to hold in mind as I was taken through fantastic hallucinations and states of "non-ordinary reality".

Perception. That is reality.

This thought was driven home to me this morning in my own life. I was high on the cold air rushing past my face, the pumping of my heart and the throbbing of my legs as I pushed down hard on the peddles of my bike, standing and leaning forward as I climbed the hill of the overpass, music from my headphones pulling me away from the stream of traffic beside me. I felt joyous and marveled at how psychologically, emotionally, and physically sound I am at this moment in my life. I cruised home, singing out loud along with Sarah Mclachlan and the Smiths and Aretha Franklin. And while I savoured this experience, I was aware of the expressions of the cyclists I passed, frowning and cringing against the cold wind, avoiding eye contact, chins huddled into collars...

What was the reality in the space that I shared with those cyclists? The bike path. The noise of traffic. The cold morning. But the elation that I experienced along with these was just as real, and yet it was mine alone. My perception of that moment made it glorious, though I don't believe that any other cyclist out there this morning would have described it as such. As I biked past one particularly unhappy looking woman, I wondered how it was possible for people in this prosperous country to be anything but content and joyous. And I thought back to how I had experienced the world when I was suffering from depression, and remembered wondering then how people in this world could be anything but despairing. Happiness around me at that time struck me as ignorance.

The shifts in perception that Castaneda describes are tempting in how extreme they are. He experiences such brilliant highs and devastating lows, and sees the world in a form that is beyond even my strangest dreams.

But I would fear for my ability to return to this state of mind after tasting such experiences. I would fear never again getting to feel the highs that I get from such simple delights as music and exercise and being outside. I would fear alienating myself from the people I share this life with, or getting lost forever in the darkness or horrors that Castaneda frequently described.

Instead of ingesting substances to alter my perceptions, I will continue to swim in the range of experiences that are available to me, try to appreciate both the highs and the lows as they bring their own insight and clarity, and remind myself frequently that reality is only as I perceive it, and I can perceive it in countless ways.