Supernatural: Meetings with the Ancient Teachers of Mankind
by Graham Hancock
Wanna see the dead? No, really. Do you? Not dead people on the street — the news is full of quite enough of that, thanks — but the truly dead: their spirit, their being, their, well, lives.
Well, dig into Graham Hancock’s copious Supernatural: Meetings with the Ancient Teachers of Mankind, and you just might get lucky.
Of course you’ll have to study, and you’ll have to learn, and you’ll have to practice, and you just might have to take something to help the process along.
Such as what the Central African pygmies call eboka, also known as iboga, scientifically classified as Tabernathanthe iboga, root of the hallucinogenic dope-kicker, ibogaine, not yet prescribed everywhere.
If it’s kicks you want, then it’s kicks you’ll get, right back to the “before and after” of all humankind. We’re talkin’ 40,000 years ago, dig? When upright still meant on all fours.
Okay, so we might’ve by then been human erectus, but only just. And if the effects of eboka are to be believed, we’re lucky we ever got up at all.
But we have, natch. And according to Hancock’s hallowed history, we’re much the worse for wear as a result.
From the caves at Pech Merle (dig that wounded man) to the serpents of the Drakenberg (brought to you courtesy of the now-extinct San, whose shaman’s protected Southern Africa before the white man), Supernatural takes you through many doors leading to another world. Whether these are are the sort of innerstellar thresholds you can take, or leave, or even accept, all depends on you ability to believe.