Few figÂures were as influÂenÂtial as Alan Watts and Aldous HuxÂley in popÂuÂlarÂizÂing experÂiÂments with psyÂcheÂdelÂic drugs and EastÂern reliÂgion in the 20th cenÂtuÂry. Watts did more to introÂduce WestÂernÂers to Zen BudÂdhism than almost anyÂone before or since; Huxley’s experÂiÂments with mescaÂline and LSD—as well as his litÂerÂary criÂtiques of WestÂern techÂnoÂcratÂic rationalism—are well-known. But in a counÂterÂculÂturÂal moveÂment largeÂly domÂiÂnatÂed by men—Watts and HuxÂley, Ken Kesey, TimÂoÂthy Leary, Allen GinsÂberg, etc—Huxley’s widÂow LauÂra came to play a sigÂnifÂiÂcant role after her husband’s death.
In fact, as we’ve disÂcussed before, she played a sigÂnifÂiÂcant role durÂing his death, injectÂing him with LSD and readÂing to him from The Tibetan Book of the Dead as he passed away. In the interÂview above, LauÂra speaks with Watts about that expeÂriÂence, one she learned from Aldous, who perÂformed a simÂiÂlar serÂvice for his first wife as she died in 1955. The occaÂsion of the interview—conducted at Watts’ SausalÂiÂto home in 1968—is the pubÂliÂcaÂtion of LauÂra Huxley’s memÂoir of life with her husÂband, This TimeÂless Moment. But talk of the book soon prompts disÂcusÂsion of Huxley’s graceÂful exit, which Watts calls “a highÂly intelÂliÂgent form of dying.”
Watts relates an anecÂdote about Goethe’s last hours, durÂing which a visÂiÂtor was told that he was “busy dying.” “Dying is an art,” says Watts, “and it’s also an advenÂture,” LauÂra adds. Their disÂcusÂsion then turns to Huxley’s final novÂel, Island (which you can read in PDF here). Island has rarely been favorÂably reviewed as a litÂerÂary endeavÂor. And yet, as Watts points out, it wasn’t intendÂed as litÂerÂaÂture, but as a “sociÂoÂlogÂiÂcal blueÂprint in the form of a novÂel.” LauÂra HuxÂley, upset at the book’s chilly recepÂtion, wishÂes her husÂband had “writÂten it straight.” NonetheÂless, she points out that Island was much more than a UtopiÂan fanÂtaÂsy or philoÂsophÂiÂcal thought experÂiÂment. It was a docÂuÂment in which “every method, every recipe… is someÂthing he experÂiÂmentÂed with himÂself in his own life.” As LauÂra wrote in This TimeÂless Moment:
Every sinÂgle thing that is writÂten in Island has hapÂpened and it’s posÂsiÂble and actuÂal … Island is realÂly visionÂary comÂmon sense. Things that Aldous and many othÂer peoÂple said, that were seen as so audaÂcious — they are comÂmon sense, but they were visionÂary because they had not yet hapÂpened.
Those things includÂed not only radÂiÂcal forms of livÂing, but also, as HuxÂley himÂself demonÂstratÂed, radÂiÂcal ways of dying.
RelatÂed ConÂtent:
Aldous Huxley’s Most BeauÂtiÂful, LSD-AssistÂed Death: A LetÂter from His WidÂow
Aldous HuxÂley Reads DraÂmaÂtized VerÂsion of Brave New World
Leonard Cohen NarÂrates Film on The Tibetan Book of the Dead, FeaÂturÂing the Dalai Lama (1994)
Josh Jones is a writer and musiÂcian based in WashÂingÂton, DC. FolÂlow him at @jdmagness
HuxÂley is turnÂing in his grave nearÂly 100 years after his visionÂary propheÂcies began to form into his own mode of ficÂtion. He is one of my favorite authors and raised seriÂous issues and made world-wide breakÂthroughs in the research of psyÂcheÂdelics as well as our cogÂniÂtive libÂerÂties. I drew a porÂtrait as homage to the man and his works. See the him roll with the mushÂrooms, the pills and the doors of perÂcepÂtion at http://dregstudiosart.blogspot.com/2010/07/aldous-huxley-rolls-in-his-grave.html
HuxÂley loved our silÂly and very danÂgerÂous species.
He knew a lot about us, about how easÂiÂly we fall into becomÂing so very, very danÂgerÂous, and in Island he creÂatÂed a blueÂprint for a funcÂtionÂal utopia. He knew it was a long shot that we would be able to sideÂstep our destrucÂtive urges using the techÂniques and tools that he gives us in that novÂel, but he felt the need to put blazes on a posÂsiÂble trail in which it could be. I don’t think that he was under any deluÂsions about how hard a chalÂlenge it was and is to do that, but he did bequeath us a temÂplate / proÂtoÂtype on his way out the door.
As I write this it is DecemÂber 19th, 2024. The doomsÂday clock sits at 90 secÂonds to midÂnight. The damÂage we have done and are inflictÂing upon our terÂresÂtriÂal garÂden is rapidÂly hitÂting the point of irreÂversibilÂiÂty. Yeats’ “The SecÂond ComÂing” has our beast crawlÂing its way towards BethÂleÂhem to be born. We are a misÂerÂable and angry lot — who didÂn’t need to be. This state of man could have been avoidÂed. We could have takÂen on the hard and essenÂtial tasks of tamÂing and gamÂing our JunÂgian shadÂows, but … we didÂn’t. Whether we go up in a flash and a boom, or slowÂly cook ourÂselves into a frog bisque anthroÂpoÂmorÂphic sixth mass extincÂtion is the quesÂtion.
As ShakeÂspeare’s HamÂlet said: “What a piece of work is a man, How noble in reaÂson, how infiÂnite in facÂulÂty, In form and movÂing how express and admirable, In action how like an Angel, In appreÂhenÂsion how like a god, The beauÂty of the world, The paragon of aniÂmals. And yet to me, what is this quinÂtesÂsence of dust? Man delights not me; no, nor Woman neiÂther; though by your smilÂing you seem to say so.”