Many seem upset with Terence… betrayed even. I’m reminded of that old Gregory Peck film _Twelve O’clock High_. I think of Peck standing outside the gate of the Bomber Wing he was taking over in England during WWII, chain-smoking cigarettes and steeling himself for one big ordeal looming before him like a tidal wave “…a mile high and a hundred miles wide…”.That looming concrescence for which Peck had to steel himself was a personal investigation into just how much a man could take in arduous combat operations before he popped and was no longer effective in that capacity. Peck put himself in every cockpit, flew every mission, dropped every bomb: talked the talk but walked the walk, eh?Finally, he did “pop.” He could no longer go into the sky… he could no longer “consume the shroom…”On the psychedelic pathway, Terence put himself into every entheogenic cockpit, flew every entheogenic mission, and dropped every entheogenic bomb, if you will. He more than exceeded the courage of many of us, was a trailblazer to significant Academic realms new _and_ old, and was of service to an intellectual humanity, a service performed all too infrequently for my money.We don’t hate Peck's character for finding a limit arduously sought. We shouldn't be disappointed with McKenna, either… where a similar service was tendered. He took his investigation, where we were beneficiary, to the wall. He shouldn't be castigated for crashing into it himself.
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