Mr Cool the Tree

First off, this is a deep secret and is special to me, but since this is a very open and kind community, I want to share it. You may not think it is much, or maybe it is cool, but I have noticed that most good trips, usually hardcore ones, involve some kind of character who gives answer, and I have not been left out of the loop. Sorry if it's long, I like to speak my mind.

Each year I go to a poetry camp. There are many people who flock to the moving camp, which ranges from Washington, to Maine, to Colorado. About a hundred people show to each one, and they are very spiritual and exciting. Robert Bly is one of the teachers, and there are also some shamans and Indian (read eastern) shamans, if you will. The community is very close and open.

Me and a close friend of mine, love to light a bowl before the poetry, to indulge a little better and open our minds. But it was the last night, and there was a huge banquet to celebrate the ending of the 8 day camp. Wine and good food circled the many tables as we communicated and gushed about our experiences of this camp, and how we couldn't wait for the next one, which would be in California. I had a little to much wine, and the conversation flowed, and at our small table, the subject of mushroom's came up. We discussed the fact that we all believed, that if everyone took shrooms, spiritually of course, there would be world peace.

After much music, at around 11am, everyone had filtered out and were heading back to their cabins when a man we had joined at our table approached us and offered us some mushrooms. They looked like very nice Amanita's, the stems almost solely green and blue, the caps large and fiery orange. We thanked him much and gave him some of our weed, and we smoked some and my friend and I took the shrooms. We took about an eighth each, 3 grams or so. We all decided to go back to the main hall, where some people were still talking, and we sat in the middle on pillows and talked for a long time.

I was feeling nothing, and had forgotten we had actually taken the shrooms, just happy to be blazed having long intense conversations. I looked at my friend who was standing up, swaying around and around. I laughed, and remembered, but fealt nothing. not until I glanced at a framed picture on the wall. It was our earth, with trees and animals all around it. I looked for only a second, and could have sweared I saw the thing rotating. I looked back slower, and stared. The animals romped around, the earth slowly turned. I had shroomed a fair amount before, but it always amazed me the different ways the trip hits you.

I smiled much larger now, unable to wipe the grin off my face. Our friend finally left, happy we were having a good time, and we headed outside, into the black night. It was around 12:45, and we were on a large island in Washington, Orcas Island. We walked along the darken paths talking about things, enjoying the growing happiness around us. I closed my eyes and opened them and let out a yelp. We had been in the dark, but now, it was day time. It was so real, I started to think it was, and when I glanced at my watch and it said 1am, I thought it mean one, but am meant day, so I thought it was the afternoon. My friend had hit the trip hard and was crosslegged on the path, his fingers twirling to an unheard beat circling through his head. I smiled larger, and the smiled grew and grew and it started to hurt. I realized the smile was extending out of my face, and into the treed forest. I couldn't believe it. wherever the smile went, the forest lit up with light and glittered and sparkled like diamond on a sunny afternoon. The smile finally was so big I couldn't see it. I was happy, and I looked at the path, which was now a glittering gold, watery like. I reached down to feel this and I had a sudden urge to swim in the river. I sat down and was overwhelmed by the warm substance. I had tripped well before, but this was a totally new experience. I couldn't close my mouth cause the smile was so big, so I put my face down and fealt the liquid run over my face.

I lifted my head and now there was a yellow gold tinge to everything. I got up, wet with the warmth, and walked upstream, coming to a fork in the river. I was suddenly presented with a descision, and I had no idea what to do. I closed my eyes, opened them, and asked the void, where to go. There was an answer, not in the form of writing or primitive speach, but in feeling, and I turned to the right and walked on. Then, i came to a bench, and I sat down and opened my eyes. I was on a 180 foot vertical cliff, that ended with the ocean below me. There was a huge sailboat down there, and the mast reached almost to where I was. I marveled at that, and thought I could touch it. I smiled, and stared over the ocean and the mountains in the distance. The mast shimmered and wavered, and I started to reach out.

Like a soft but sudden bolt of lightening or gun shot, a voice rang out like a bullet made of foam and soft silk, and I ripped around my head, scared by the sudden intrusion. There, behind me, was a tree. I was now deeply confused, but I stared at the tree, it being the only thing around. The tree had a smile and deressions were the eys would be, and a sort of beard. I thought this was unusual so my eyes had passed over it, but as my mind digested that piece of information, it clicked.

I stared at the chuckling tree. It was about 20 feet high, and bushy. I stammered out a hello, and the voice suprised me again. It was soft, almost Japenese. He told me, in a quick voice to spin around the bench so i could face him. I thought he was joking, how could I do that. He told me my first lesson was to understand that we should never think that something is not possible, or even that nothing is impossible. We must think as positive as possible, so therefore, everything is possible. I quickly bowed, and the tree smiled. I staid like this for about an hour and a half, but it seemed like mere minutes, as my teacher taught me how to make life bearable, and how to visit him whenever I fealt it neccesary. I thanked him, and like somebody had told me it was over. Then, he was not there, but instead stood a bush, merely 5 feet high. I laughed and presented the bush with an offering, and left. I was walking down the path, the sun filtering in what little sunlight it had. My friend joined me like nothing had happened, and we walked down to the still asleep camp, and started to pack our stuff.

We left, drove, ferried, and finally flew home, with thoughts that I thought no one would ever know about, but now, you all who have read this, do. My hopes and wishes that all who are graced with the ability to happily shroom for a reason beyond simple recreation, will find their own Mr. Cool, the teacher