The day after experience two, two and a half grams of dried "space fruits" were mixed with two lemons and blended to pulp-like consistency and slammed down the hatch. A minor frustration was beginning to build as the "mystical appetite" was far from satisfied via these strange chemical doorways. I sat down to finish watching The Doors. About 45 minutes after ingestion, a strong pineal buzz eerily mimicking the sensation of a focused meditation session manifested. Not very long after this, the movie became impossible to continue. The first visual representation of peculiarity was the wood grain of the floor began flowing as if it were a river of wood. It became necessary to elicit the help of the sun in this adventure, and it was unambiguously decided that the front yard required exploration.
The immediate wash of our star was calling as exit was swiftly sought from the confines of the building. The concrete driveway seemed to take on the behavior of the wood floor inasmuch as it seemed to flow, only the concrete did so in circular eddies. It was stable for walking, but the vision certainly did not deliver this sense. As interesting as the pooling concrete eddies were, basking in the sun was the main point of interest and wonderfully grasping. In this ecstatic bliss, the eyes closed, and the head tilted up to the solar energy bearer. This resulted in two-dimensional, geometric, closed-eye visuals predominantly red in color. The grass was tested under bare feet and delivered a heightened and pleasurable sensation that one would not expect from merely walking barefoot upon the grass. A half wall extended an invitation to provide seat upon it and to enjoy the scenery of the front yard. Such an offer was gladly accepted and indulged. Once the position had been surveyed to sufficient satisfaction, the back yard became next on the list for exploration.
The back deck was sat upon and provided a gracious space for further contemplation. A fit of laughter was quickly upon me as well as the sense that this process was "finally working."The experience of the "blissful moment" was delivered by the mushroom. Inside beckoned after these outdoor excursions, and music was to be next.
A recent re-exploration of OAR provided a playlist for the euphoric sense of wellbeing suited for the state. Wild dancing ensued in the living room, and the dimensionality of the music was of great depth and richness. This continued until the playlist "ran-out"; at which time, I flung myself upon the couch and closed my eyes to experience the purity of the entity without external sensory stimuli. This would have been about two hours after consumption, about the peak of the experience. I very quickly discovered that the mushroom does in fact, "speak." An internal dialogue ensued, and I simply marveled at what was transpiring before my very mind. Was I simply communicating with a portion of the subconscious? If this was the truth, it was so totally foreign and "other" that it might as well have represented the alien from untold light years away, populating the cosmos through interstellar spore propagation, as Terence McKenna spoke of it. To my surprise, the mushroom entity seemed to be definitively feminine, and this formally represented the "Meeting with the Goddess."
In some narrow sense, I performed this "experiment" to explore the medicinal properties of the mushroom. I understood it to be an effective natural aid for overly limiting patterns of belief and thought entrainment. I figured it could loosen the grips of the post-breakup depression. In a more general and pure sense, I was searching for understanding beyond all else. I did not seek to simply "fix" the condition of my depressed state; rather, I sought to leverage the experience afforded by such a catastrophically shaking event (breakup) in a beneficial way. I wanted to explore the opportunity to co-create a sufficient modeling mechanism inclusive of love, appreciation, and harmony within the structure of the Mystery.
Previous to this experience, I wrote a song with the chorus, "Do you have a cure, do you know more, do you have a way, to end my night's reign?" This was written before the "mushroom experience" was even a faint glimmer in the recesses of my mind. During the dialogue with the mushroom, I was immediately able to discern that this chorus was indeed written for the "Meeting with the Goddess." It was a direct beckoning of her spirit and query for assistance. I sought for her to deliver a "cure" and end "my night's reign." As I did not know what else to say within the transdimensional dialogue, this chorus became a sort of mantra or focused intention for my "Meeting with the Goddess." I was in the void; the chorus provided a way for me to concisely tell "her" why it was that I was "here" and what exactly I hoped to gain. I could deliver my cause and intent purely and efficiently without trepidation or fear because such thoughts had already been formulated within the lyrics. There were no "answers" immediately delivered, but there was active and attentive "consideration" from the goddess. This "presence" of the entity was a form of answer itself. It provided a type of healing. The simple essence and immensity of the "unity feeling" delivered by the goddess/experience was the "healing." A definite satisfaction and limited understanding were derived from this direct "unity sensation."
So it was that I rose from the couch propelled by hunger; it was absolutely necessary to eat. Burritos were the natural choice. A short drive was taken to a small burrito shop. I arrived, "Now the trick would be to order," I thought. I ordered a meal with all the appropriate etiquette one would expect without issue. Next, I received the plate, and finished every last bite with magic reverence seemingly "the air." It was odd, but it somehow felt like the magic of the Mystery was just somehow present and almost "twinkling" in the air. There were no visual disturbances but just a sort of clarity that allowed the wonder of the Mystery to be directly observed.
After the meal, the mission was not complete. The chicken burrito, although tasty, did not satisfy. To order another meal from the employee who just served me would obviously be out of the question, wouldn't it? "What would he think of having to prepare another meal for the same person? Would he be as polite the second time around? Would I get something else or the same thing previously ordered?" Such internalized questions became too much, and it was clear that it would be necessary to proceed across the parking lot to the grocery store.
The burrito shop was left, the vastness of the parking lot traversed, and the grocery store entered. The sandwich section was the objective. A course was quickly set. The goal was reached. There I found a foot-long turkey sub. "Surely, this would satisfy." The anxious trek to the checkout counter began where a line awaited. "What could be done?" The game was to be one of waiting. There I waited, wanting nothing more than to devour the sub, but this would have not been feasible in the line. I would make a mess, and who would clean it up? Certainly not I, and then I would feel bad about someone else having to clean up a mess I made. For this reason, it would simply not have been possible to consume the turkey sub in the line; although, the temptation was present. Finally, it was my turn to pay; the encounter moved along swiftly without incident.
The exit strategy was a simple one, and the car found right where I left it. The car was entered and the sandwich devoured one bite at a time, again with a sense of being one with the... almost "cartoon-like" essence of magical, existential nature of the experience. What was it about eating that seemed to bring about this specific awe and appreciation? Was it the primal need for sustenance, the biological dopamine release as the food satisfied, or something entirely different? Was this the modal shade of consciousness that occupies the consciousness of animals? There was no real ability to "plan anything out," yet reaction was generally not a problem as "the moment" seemed to be one continuous unified structure. There surely would be no depression or conspiring malevolence possible in this unified moment of consciousness. As these thoughts lingered, home was sought after the turkey sub "domination."
The bed was the place of refuge and now a mild longing for ordinary consciousness was present. It was made clear that the ability to "plan" was a wonderful gift to humanity. This is a great and personal responsibility, potentially delivering the harmony, bliss, and joy of the Mystery. Such can also deliver the other end of the spectrum or the infinite shades of gray that comprise the flux of reality. The point is that the "choice" is ours. The "mass serotonin trip" of every day waking consciousness can either be beautiful and offer unity or isolated, fear ruled, and hellish. In the same way that our mindset can determine the nature of a psychedelic "trip," our mindset and model can and does determine the quality/construct of our actual life. The responsibility for the nature of "the trip" that is "our life" is ours. Anything not serving or obstructing such personal responsibility must be discarded as it is interfering with the pathways between truth and perception.
I lay in bed until most of the experience was complete. The timing worked out well as, about that same time, I had to meet a new tenant for the lease signing and key exchange. Fortunately, I did not have far to travel as I was meeting the tenant at the duplex, which was all of 30 feet from my front door. We met, exchanged the keys and rent/security deposit, and signed the lease. Everything was flowing smoothly, and I was glad this was the case. Dealing with any problems while "coming down" from such an experience would not be cool.
Eventually, a wrench was thrown in the gears, and the tenant demanded to see that the lawnmower (I previously mentioned for tenants to maintain the lawn) was operational. It was more than a valid request but not one I was prepared to handle at that moment. Although, what was I to do? Would I tell the tenant, "Actually, I'm coming down from my first dance with the 'mushroom goddess' and am not particularly interested in messing with machinery right now"? I'm not sure how that information would have been received. This was about four hours after ingestion, and I was almost baseline. I wasn't sure if the lawn mower was operational. I had never started it and had only thought it operational due to observing the previous tenants using it. It was an old lawn mower, and the previous tenants had left it for me. I suppose, this was a sort of "parting gift." That was a rather "glass half full" view of what they left. In addition, they saw it fit to leave what amounted to a dumpster full of "parting gifts," but at least the lawn mower worked. I thought it worked but couldn't be sure. Now, the new tenant demanded to see it was operational, so we went in the yard to the shed. I pulled the lawn mower out, primed it, thought to myself, "Here we go with some sort of problem," and let her rip. To my amazement it started right up, and I gave the tenant a look of satisfaction as if I had known it would start all along. This appeased her doubt and ended the potential "problem" at the end of the "trip."
I danced with the "mushroom goddess," had a signed lease, and apparently, a working lawn mower for the tenant. It had been a rather successful day. I was more than pleased with the outcome and was left with quite an experience to reflect upon and examine