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MRCA Tyroler Gluckspilze
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Solving World Hunger

My first time tripping on mushrooms began with another Saturday night party at my friend Dave's house.

My first time tripping on mushrooms began with another Saturday night party at my friend Dave's house. Many of the usual characters attended, but this time, there was a special treat - someone had contributed some magic mushrooms, and they permeated the pizza which looked so delicious that despite my wariness of drugs other than herbal remedies I simply could not refuse. Dave's mother, a former hippie (you should see the beautiful wedding photo on the staircase wall, all longhaired and flowing white on a garden landscape-) partook of the pizza as well. I sat wondering what it was that I should feel, and was I feeling it already for even questioning it, when someone suggested we take a walk to a place called the Thinking Spot. This is an abandoned area in the back of our run down military base, a base which has been in the process of being shut down for many years now. The spot itself is a concrete block left behind from a building that used to stand there, and as it is near the edge of a cliff it overlooks the spectacular Gatineau valley, a wonder in the day (especially on a blue autumn day) or at night (with the bright citylight splendor).
I hardly noticed it happening, but when it did, it really captured both my imagination and my body - the grey sky had become electric, it seemed the same white as my eyes and so my eyes and the sky became inseperable and I found that I was lying on my back, breathing with the lungs of the grassy ground, seeing with the vision of the sky a vision of the sky itself, unable to move. When I could move again, I was on my hands and knees, and began to think of horses and what it would be like to be a horse, all that shiny coat and sinew, rippling muscle like dark water outrunning the wind,
and to have food everywhere because the grass is food. And then - wondering, what is so different between horse stomachs and people stomachs, why can't we eat grass? It's a vegetable, like any other... and I began to uproot grass shoots, very carefully, finding the white or purple ends and nibbling, finding that it tasted not only reasonable but rather good in fact.
Then I became aware that the rest of my friends had left, but Dave was there, and I was sharing my discovery with him and bidding him to eat the grass shoots with me, the tender shoots like miniature bamboo and by then having found my voice I declared that food was everywhere, why was the world hungry? People in other countries eat bugs and such, why would people everywhere have qualms against eating grass?
By the time I was able to regain both the capacity for physical movement and the semblance of a will to move, at least a few steps at a time, my hair was a mess of grass and I had dirt beneath my nails. I felt like a veritable woman of the brush, some kind of fairie sprite sent to the mortal world to share the magic of the hidden realms of forest, the secret of the tender tasty shoots of grass - I was a woman with a mission, a higher purpose, and here, today, my friends - I have finally related the information on the large scale.
Hopefully that means my kindred breathren of the enchanted place will come to reclaim me again, so that I may live beneath electric skies, breathing with the lungs of the earth, seeing with the vision of the sky which is a vision of the sky itself... it was a safe place, a wonderful place, an infinity (unexplored world!) within the smallness of my Self (daily trials of dispair, moments at a loss for optimism) which perhaps - some day, with the help of psychedellic magic, I may be blessed to visit again...


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