BeagleSwordThreeColors - The Monday Morning Memo

This is the end of the “safe” portion of the rabbit hole. See? I gave you the BeagleSword; that makes this the terminus page. To venture beyond here is to risk becoming irritated, offended or annoyed. I’ve been a mostly good dog up until now, but this is where I become less careful. You have been warned. – Indy

“Thus it came about that, one bright May morning, I swallowed four-tenths of a gram of mescalin dissolved in half a glass of water and sat down to wait for the results…. I took my pill at eleven. An hour and a half later, I was sitting in my study, looking intently at a small glass vase. The vase contained only three flowers-a full-blown Belie of Portugal rose, shell pink with a hint at every petal’s base of a hotter, flamier hue; a large magenta and cream-colored carnation; and, pale purple at the end of its broken stalk, the bold heraldic blossom of an iris. Fortuitous and provisional, the little nosegay broke all the rules of traditional good taste. At breakfast that morning I had been struck by the lively dissonance of its colors. But that was no longer the point. I was not looking now at an unusual flower arrangement. I was seeing what Adam had seen on the morning of his creation-the miracle, moment by moment, of naked existence.”

- Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception (1954,) describing his first experiment with drugs.

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