So, I've been growing psilocybe's for a couple months now, and have been having some real trouble getting effects. It seemed like no matter how many I ate, no matter what else I took with them, I'd just get nausea.
I was just about ready to give up and trade my harvest for other things when I got the urge to try again. There was no logical reason for it, just an urge. So that night I got my cache of shrooms out and sat on my bed staring at them. What should I do? I'd promised 1/8's to a couple friends, and I probably wasn't gonna have another harvest for a couple weeks.
"Fuck em", I thought, knowing full well I'd be royally pissed if someone did that to me.
So I started pulling them out of the drying chamber, trying to visually estimate a good-sized dose before weighing them. A strange thing happened to me, though. It was as though the mushrooms whispered "Stop!" right in my ear. Knowing when to shut the hell up and listen, I stopped what I was doing.
As I listened, it seemed as though the shrooms were trying to convey a sense of reverence and respect to me, and asking that I do the same for them. They were emanating love and beauty, trying to get me to understand the importance of what I was doing. I realized the problem.
In all my other attempts I had thought of the mushrooms in a purely utilitarian sense, as a tool for tripping instead of the dynamic living beings they are. How disrespectful!! I felt rather ashamed of myself and vowed to make this time different.
This time, instead of carefully weighing out doses and taking them in a way to maximize alkaloid absorption, in other words, using my judgment, I decided to let the mushrooms guide the way. I put all my shrooms in a big pile (including one very large dried specimen which has been my best to date; previously I had decided to save it as a showcase) and removed one at a time until I had an urge to stop. I looked at the pile I had left and immediately knew that was what I was to take.
Not weighing them (I now estimate the dose to be somewhere around 4g) I ate them whole at about 9:00pm, dipped in honey. "Well, here we go again. Probably another waste of shrooms." I thought, not fully believing that this time would be any different than the others.
I then went on the internet and fucked around The Shroomery for awhile, posting messages and such. My girlfriend called and we were chatting when I first started to feel something. "Holy shit! I think I'm feeling the shrooms!" I said to her, after explaining what I had done. We resumed talking, with me slightly distracted and excited. My mind was drifting and I was slightly stoned, but it was getting stronger. After awhile I just had to get off the phone, it was hard to concentrate on *anything* let alone a voice coming out of some plastic contraption.
I got off of the computer and went into my room, for a change of scenery. I wasn't having any visuals yet, but I could feel that there was more to come. I checked on my terrarium, watered my plants, and went into the living room to watch TV.
Out of habit I glanced at my watch. Wow! It had been only five minutes since I got off the phone (this was about 35 minutes past ingestion). Noting this time discrepancy, I moved my attention to other things.
Watching TV was strange. I found the images on the screen much more interesting in and of themselves than they were in the context of the plot. In fact, I had no idea (and didn't care) what was happening. I just loved watching their expressions, how they moved, and, sometimes, what they did.
By this time the shrooms were starting to really kick in. I had abandoned the TV and was just laying on the couch staring at the entire room all at once. Everything was alive, colors were shifting and strange patterns were superimposed on all flat surfaces.
After staring for some time I got cold. I wrapped myself up in a big blanket and sat in a Lay-Z-Boy chair, and I found I couldn't return to the state of pure observation that I was in before. Vaguely disappointed, I started watching the TV again. Well, staring actually. My mind would never stay in one place and all my muscles simply refused to contract, leaving me gazing at the screen with my mouth hanging open. I also found that, unless I thought about it, I wouldn't blink. I'd stare for five minutes, realize that I had to blink, blink (at which point my eyes would burn and water from being so dry) and continue to stare.
After about an hour and half I was getting tired. I tried to stay up but it was useless. Thinking it was mostly over, I got up to go to bed. Finding my bedroom was kind of fun. Everything looked so foreign and new, and I was so delighted I looked at everything I could. I still was pretty goddamn tired so I got in bed. I laid in bed for a couple hours while the effects wore off and was left with an upset stomach and a shitty taste in my mouth. Eventually I drifted off to sleep.
I assume the somewhat reduced effects (less than what one would expect from ~4g) as well as the short duration are due to the SSRI I'm on (Paxil), but I can't be sure until I try again.
Today, the day after, I feel wonderful knowing that, I too, can experience the flesh of the gods. I also now know the value of respect and reverence in entheogenic experiences, and I hope others having trouble will benefit from my experience.