My friends, it’s no secret; we like to have fun around here. We gambol along the halls of the internet, tossing open doors we pass, trusting that one of them will lead to the truth. Well, as many of you know, one of the hallmarks of the Ted Hash-Berryman family is that we like to have a good time. Like my great grandfather used to whisper to me whenever he would sit me upon his muscle-bound thigh: ‘wheresoever the name Ted Hash-Berryman is uttered, therefrom must follow a shitstorm of tomfoolery.’ Well forgive me great grandpappy Theobald, but I now must to do something I’ve never done before: be completely serious.
Many of my fans have been asking where I’ve been these last few months. The truth is, I needed step away from this illusory societal construct many of us call ‘home’ in order to experience my natural uncontrived being, beyond organizations of experience. As I usually do for a semiregular retreat, I traveled to my sanctum sanctorum, a small unmapped zone nestled deep within the unforgiving rainforest of Kwamalasamutu.
As is my custom, I joined with the tribal elders of the Trio to continue my ongoing study of indigenous entheogens and the many paths to transcendence offered within. While with my shamanic brethren, most of my days were spent traversing the astral dimension of DMT hyperspace upon ingesting the yagé brew. During the damp nights, in lieu of sleep, I would smear myself head to toe with fresh jungle honey and meditate silently while sitting in double lotus position on the most fearsome bullet ant nest in Suriname. These spiritual practices are intended to decompose the inorganic culturally-imposed thought barricades that prevent us from reaching our full human potential. What I have found over many years of daily practice is that an experiencer can glimpse objective truth through the conduit of our greatest of human powers: intuition.
During my time in Suriname, I became obsessed with entering the highest levels of intuitive openness, forgoing sleep for weeks on end, hardly moving. I eventually abandoned entirely the sacred rituals of my brothers and sisters, avoiding the flush of firelight to seek clearly through the darkness of night. Let’s just say, by the end of my time there, nearly all of the shaman had turned away from me. On my final night, as I departed lowly, and in complete silence, a voice from high above in the canopy called down to me. It was my beloved friend and mentor, Asamina, and he said:
‘Brother Ted, the masters of fate have already chosen what is next.’
Since I’ve returned, much has become clear: the source of my insomnolent introversion has been the bickering of my own mortal soul with itself. My friends, I’ve been afraid to speak up about something that’s been on my mind for the past year and a half for fear of public ridicule and censure. All this time, I have been debating whether or not to tell you what I am now about to.
What I am heralding is my most important work to date–not only will this discovery forever shift the landscape of American literature, it will also have a significant impact on our understanding of human consciousness.
Here goes nothing…
(Unfortunately, my legal team has advised me to not release any details at this time, but I believe it is safe to say this much:)
It’s ‘time’ to ‘turn over’ a ‘new’ ‘leaf.’