On the night of June 6, 1996 (6/6/96), while working on a segment of my web sight (this very sight), I came to the realization that what I was doing was creating a comprehensive hypertext occult tome of alchemy, metaphysics, and psychedelic practice. Don't get me wrong, that is the way I set it up in the first place, but it was kind of an abstract tounge-in-cheek kind of thing... a "wouldn't it be cool if" kind of endeavor. But now that I have set to the task of compiling all of these writings I have lying around, something inside of me started gnawing.

Basically, in a flash, I came to the conclusion that what I was doing was the most self-indulgent, foolish, and potentially dangerous thing I had ever done. What do I know about alchemy? What do I know about physics or metaphysics? What do I know about the nature of reality? I'm just some tripper with a buch of crazy notions rattling around in my head. What are the consequences of my actions? Will people take me seriously? Will people scoff at my audacity? What the hell am I doing?

So starts the crisis. I become filled with self doubt. I wonder if I should just give it all up, walk away, and lead a safe, normal life like everyone else. I contemplate how easy this would be: come home every night, have a few beers in front of the tube, not give a shit about anything. Heavy stuff, right?

Well, now I'm rattled. I can't work, I can't not work, I'm not tired, I'm not hungry... I'm just restless and in the middle of an existential crisis. Why bother doing anything? Who the hell cares anyway?

So I just sit, breath, and mediate on my crisis. I feel like I am nothing, a fool, a charlatan. I decide, against my better judgement, that I should smoke my last hit of DMT. "You got me into this," I think to myself, but actually addressing the Other. "You're the one that showed me all of this, damn it. Now I want some answers!"

Sound foolish? You betcha'.

I go to retreive my stash when suddenly a voice fills my head. It is not my voice, it is more like a mellow-oldies radio DJ voice. It asks, "What are you doing?" I am stunned. I stop in my tracks. I just stand in silence for a few moments.

It asks again, but a bit differently this time, "Do you know what you're doing?"

"I haven't the foggiest," I think to myself. "What am I doing?"

"Is there something you want to know?" It asks. Again, I am stunned. I don't know what to say. "What is it you want to know?" It asks again.

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing," I think (this dialogue is all internal). "I don't know what to tell them."

"Tell who?" asks the voice.

"I don't know. Why should I tell anybody anything?" I ask.

"Because you know," says the voice. "You know," it repeats. "You already know everything you need to know. Now go tell them."

"Tell who?" I ask it back.

"Anyone who will listen." It says. "Those who need to know will come to you, and the telling has already started. Just keep doing what you are doing, and you'll be fine." Pause. "Now go get some sleep." And then it was gone.

What the hell?! I didn't ask for this. Or did I? I can't remember now. Am I supposed to be some kind of prophet? Do I want to be? That seems like an awful lot of responsibility to me. It sounds like a lot of work too. What have I gotten myself into? Am I nuts now? Have I lost my mind? Maybe I've just finally found it.

Sheez, what a night. And I was sober!!!

Anyway, I'm just going to continue "doing what I'm doing" and not ask anymore stupid questions. I hope that's okay with everyone.