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THE CLOCK BY MY BED says noon. I think. Either that or one of the hands has fallen off. It is hard to tell when you have only 50% vision. Whatever the clock says, it is clearly time to get up. The day is passing and there are always things to see and people to do. I rise. Too fast. And have to sit on the edge of the bed while the room finds its point of balance. I feel strange. Am I ill? Am I coming down with some strange affliction that makes your forehead feel stretched, your eyes feel like rocks and your mouth feel like the quarry from which they were carved? God, I could almost be stoned.
Of course! I'm in Amsterdam. And I am stoned. Still stoned from last night.
So, at least, I know where I am. That is one question answered. But how did I get here? That is another question. And, the answer? ....
"Welcome to my time machine. Where can I take you? .... Was that 'Magical History Tour'? No problem. Fasten your seat belt and prepare. I am going to show you the past and in it you will see your future and the future of everyone. Hold on. Heerrre weeee goooo!"
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It is 1966 and the Western World is about to go through a social revolution. Bringing theatre onto the streets, a whole generation is about to cut the cords that bind it to traditional values. Militant freedom is in the air. And something else. And the kids are in the park having a party. This is a crucial point in modern world history. More significant than mere events. This is a movement. A gentle breeze that grew and grew until it turned into a storm and then a typhoon that looked like it might blow down the established order. In a magnificent piece of quick-change artistry, society will be seen to peel off its thick grey polythene skin and replace it with something much more jolly.
Big stuff. But few of us there realised what exactly was going on. OK, so some of us had an inkling. But that wasn't enough. Glossy magazines, glossy television producers, glossy movie directors and other similar glossy people tried to explain it but they all missed the point. In fact, almost everyone missed the point.
It was easy to pin it all on acid. But . . . .
Drugs can have devastating effects on individuals both good and bad. But on whole societies? And over the long-term? Nooooo.
What acid actually did was produce dramatically increased levels of consciousness. That was the 'something else' that was in the air. The buzz of consciousness in expansion mode.
It was beautiful to be there. For a while. In that while, the kids discovered what freedom was all about, found new meanings that realigned their attitudes and their lives, learnt how to live and what made life worthwhile.Although the term 'love generation' has become a big joke, I was part of it and I believed in it. And what's wrong with a good quality like love, anyway?
And it did get big. So big, in fact, that for a while it looked like it might bring about the radical changes that were clearly necessary in a world that had been badly undermined by financial and political power-freaks. Life took on a new meaning and shape. Old rules no longer seemed to apply. Freedom was in the air and on the streets.
It was a liberated and liberating time. The airwaves were buzzing with psychic energy and the vibe was onwards and upwards. It was exciting being there, at the cutting edge of social change. So exciting, in fact, that it blinded us to harsh reality. It all seemed real but we should have seen it for what it was, too good to be true.
But on the other side of every up there is a down. So it didn't stay exciting for long. By the end of 1967 it was all over. Dylan said 'don't follow leaders' but we did anyway. Ya gotta fight politicians with politics, they told us and we believed them. And in the process, we all to some extent walked into the trap they'd set for us.
A good war is always a distraction when the people are getting restless. And if it can be fought in someone else's country, so much the better. By the time we realised that we had been had, the love generation was a strung-out prostitute with a social disease and a collection of sparkly clothes, living in Denver, Colorado. Too late. Missed our chance. No blame.
For all the missed chances, the mood of change that kept us up and running through those twelve golden months did have some long-term effects. I, for one, have only just stopped burning my bras and, then, only because I care for the ozone layer.
Essentially, however, nothing changed. There was no overthrow of the tyrannical political, social and financial systems that dominated us then and continue to dominate us. (Which, at the time, was probably for the best since we didn't have much to replace them with other than a lot of hanging-out, getting-stoned and screwing-around.)
It is easy to enter the time machine and see where we went wrong, what we didn't understand, what we should and shouldn't have done. But, at the time, very few of us understood what was happening. Sure, we could see that it was big and see that it was good but what it was .... We had, as I have said, only the merest inkling. Anyway, we were all too busy cracking our skulls open with Sandoz and then Owsley acid to think about things that actually mattered. It wasn't until the party was over that we could actually step back and see what had happened. Not just socially but to ourselves. For some of us, those months from the fall of 1966 to the end of the summer of 1967, provided a bedrock of inspiration that propelled us through life. Having experienced increased consciousness in Technicolor, Surround-sound and Cinemascope, some of us sought to find out more. For myself, I turned to India (a culture based on consciousness), TM and hope. But there wasn't much of that around.
Slowly, it all came into perspective. For those of us who still needed telling (me included), there was 'Hair.' Yes folks, the show of the social phenomenon .... see those happy zappy freaks and space cadets sing and dance their way from love-ins to detox centres .... watch the love generation humping on the stage .... ten great songs. In some ways, 'Hair' was a celebration of some of the freedoms that had been gained. One of many big songs in this musical of the love generation was a celebration of oral sex called 'Cunnilingus,' with lyrics that ran something like: 'Cunnilingus, cunnilingus, use your tongue and not your fingers .....' Remember, this was in a show that was staged first of all in the States. Fairly outrageous, wouldn't you say?
There was, however, another song buried in this tawdry parody of both Hollywood musicals and the hippy movement that had a much more significant message. And it was not one that you were going to have a lot of trouble getting your tongue around. (Sorry about the cheap oral sex joke.) When the cast of 'Hair' stood on the stage with the ersatz light show doing its insipid thing and sang: 'This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius ...' they were telling us something serious. Even if we didn't quite know what.
Eventually, the full import of what was being said and what had happened seeped through. In the ebbing backwash produced by the burst of undirected energy that had been generated by the increased consciousness of those twelve months, books dealing with mystical and spiritual subjects flooded onto the market. Read enough and you are eventually going to find out whatever it is you want to know.
The song, so the astrologers said, was right. It was, indeed, the dawning of the Age of Aquarius. But, like dawn in the world, it was the first light that appears in the sky in the early hours of the dark morning and then disappears until the real dawn happens. No more than a herald preparing us for the arrival of the day, it is the first dawn that gives us hope that the long dark night is soon to end.
On the other hand, optimism is an affliction. Like a junk habit, it has to be fed. Otherwise, it will inevitably turn into cynicism and despair. Hope, however, comes from a deeper level but even that is not limitless. For over twenty-five years I explored the subject of consciousness through both experience and study .... and I watched for signs. And there were signs. Small signs. 'Live Aid' was one. The wall coming down was another. But nothing big.
When you watch life and the world in action you learn a lot about the way in which things happen .... and all the time you get older, more balanced, more experienced and gain knowledge. But it still took me many years to work out the way in which the New Age would arrive. And, for a few years there, I thought it wasn't going to happen at all. Over the years between 1967 and 1990, I slowly became more and more desolate. Eventually, however, I realised that I had been watching the wrong things. When the New Age arrives it will not be merely an event. It will be like it was in '67 a movement based on increased consciousness. No organisation. No conscious posturing (although, in any situation, there is always going to be some conscious posturing). No structure. Just people. People with increased consciousness.
Some hope, huh!
For a while I thought that the TM movement might have the key. TM is a technique that not only gives you regular and systematic experience of increased consciousness but also strengthens the nervous system so that higher levels of consciousness can be sustained in activity. And there is a movement to go with the technique. But .... And it is a big 'but' that I won't go into here. Whatever I might feel about the technique (which, in case you're interested, is that it is wonderful), I have to admit that there is no way the TM movement is ever going to bring about big changes. I mean, how many people do you know who practice TM? Right.
It was only when I had all but abandoned hope, that I saw the first glimmer of light. And where did that glimmer come from? You've guessed it. Amsterdam.
Always a bit slow on the uptake, again it took me some years to realise what was happening here. But I did realise. Have realised. And, what is more, I know what has to be done (or, at least, attempted) and I know that with a bit of help from the Cosmos and the good people of Amsterdam, England and the rest of Europe things can be moved onwards. But then, as I have already admitted, I am a pathetic optimist.
Gagging for an explanation?
I hope not. But, in case you haven't gathered what this manic Englishman is saying, let me just spell it out for you.
The New Age is starting to happen here. Yes, here. In Amsterdam. It is in the air and in the people. And we must not miss our chance to celebrate and encourage its appearance.
If you are wondering why here? Why Amsterdam? You already know. It is, of course, the dope. So much smoking going on, so much increased consciousness being experienced. And increased consciousness is increased consciousness; it really does not matter a bit from where it comes. It still contains that evolutionary impulse that so delights the Cosmos.
Take warning, however. The entire history of the world as we know it and all the forces that have supported it for more than two thousand years are waiting to crush this opportunity. Poised above us like a gigantic foot, they are waiting to repress the very dawn we are seeking to celebrate. And, in life, as we all know, nothing is inevitable. It is for us to seize this opportunity, to try again to bring about the widespread change in consciousness that will create the more benign world we are all seeking.
Coffeehouse Culture is one of the ways in which we will do that. There is an informal, almost invisible, movement of people pursuing increased consciousness that extends throughout Europe (and beyond). There are three common elements that link the members of this movement. Firstly, they do not realise they are part of a movement. Secondly, their chosen means of increasing consciousness is cannabis. And, thirdly, they all look to Amsterdam as the city that is showing the world how to do some of it better.
Coffeehouse Culture will provide both a focal point and a link. What is absent from this subculture at the moment is knowledge. These people have had the experience. What they need now is some understanding of what it means and how to use it. Coffeehouse Culture will provide that understanding and explore aspects of what follows. It will not, however, be an educational publication. No one wants to be lectured or preached to. Coffeehouse Culture will get its message across but never at the cost of readability or entertainment. It will contain stories that everyone who is into increased consciousness will want to read. Based on knowledge drawn from over thirty years of study.
And here we are, how we got here.
If that sounds like a lot of hot air, let me offer you some reassurance. I have always been a writer and will always be one. More than that I have edited high circulation newspapers and magazines. And there is more, I have also been an advertising copywriter and PR man. (I know. I didn't like it either. But I did learn a lot about communicating with people.) And, finally, I have been waiting thirty years to have another chance. So believe me when I say, I am not going to miss a trick this
time.
So that is how we got here on the wings of hope and a lot of manic energy. But now we are here, we can only hope that some of you will be inspired by what we are hoping to do. For, without your support, we are already a lost cause. There is a supreme opportunity here to take the world forward on the wave of consciousness that is already gathering strength in Amsterdam. If you can't feel it, that is only because you have been too close to it while it was growing. But believe me, it is there. Through Coffeehouse Culture we can give focus to the consciousness that is happening in Amsterdam making it a focal (not to say, vocal) point for the whole of the increased consciousness/cannabis culture.
So, dear readers, shall we dance?
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