Ego Death in Mexico: My Horrifying Night on Magic Mushrooms

My honest story of madness and enlightenment forever melting into the universe.

This is not a game — don’t ever take these alone.

Intro

I have taken magic mushrooms 4 times in my life. The fourth will remain the last and also the second time I had been affected. Believe me when I tell you they can and will affect you when consumed in correct dosages and of course the correct species. I thought I was invincible. Twice I had felt nothing and twice I wish I had. I wanted to feel it and tick another box from an extensive and creative bucket list. Let me be the warning that I never had. I don’t want to save you but I do want to warn you. I touched the edge of madness and didn’t know if I was coming back.

My head was in my hands as I knelt on the hard red stone and I was screaming. Not in the conventional sense as I doubt I was even loud enough for the neighbouring log cabin to hear me. I doubt they heard anything past the crickets and birds polluting only the sound of tranquility with beautiful conversation. This was the scariest part. It was all in my head. I was being tortured slowly and quietly but but no one would know. My suffering felt endless and my fear pushed me to the edge. I was going to die here.

I was talking to myself trying to come back. To come out of it, telling the universe that I had gone too far. That I had made a mistake and wanted to be a higher functioning member of society again. There was a bridge and I knew I had crossed it. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t have use of my physical brain any longer. These thoughts were only available to me when I had shifted back into my original brain pattern. My brain. It reconstructed itself, morphing its foundational pillars of infrastructure. What was I becoming? What was happening to me? All my neural pathways connected in new directions. I had evolved. Not to a new accessioned higher being but perhaps a lower and more primitive life form. My sensory inputs remained but my mind was altered analysing concepts that otherwise wouldn’t rationally be compared. I was beyond connecting letters to colours and music to emotion. I saw so many different points of view. Different realities. I sank down into an abyss. My higher brain function lowered irradiating myself, leaving this new form without any thought merely as an essence swirling throughout the universe.

I was Lucy. The American blockbuster where the protagonist evolved into a higher level species that simply expanded into the universe. As if only a consciousness remained that can neither think or process information but simply be. I was connected at a cellular level to it all. To everything. I understood different realities and saw in different points of view. This is what they were talking about. What people who describe mind journeys were trying to tell you. You connect with the universe. Get in touch with nature. Expand your mind. I can tell you that it’s all true. Except the price in which you pay for the experience. It was terrifying. I wanted to come back. I knew now. I had made a terrible mistake and for all the wrong reasons. It is true what they say, you need to be careful what you wish for.

Contents

1. Magic Mushrooms
2. The Journey
3. The Fire
4. The Mirror
5. The Joint
6. The Universe And Me
7. Circles: The Loop
8. The Call
9. The Sleep
10. TimeLine
11. The Day After
12. A Thank You To Danny
13. The Mushroom
14. Photos
15. The Conclusion

“Magic” Mushrooms

I cannot say with my hand upon heart that I never tell a lie. It is a protection mechanism we all utilise from time to time and I am sure it will happen again. I can, however stand before you and swear that the words in this book have been carefully chosen to preserve accuracy of this story.

I only have the truth to offer you. You may not like it. You won’t agree with it. It may have never happened to you. It happened to me. It was real and now here it is, available to the world with only my vulnerability at risk.

I knew I would have to write about my tales of taking mushrooms in the same mountain top retreat as the Beatles had done in the past. I was not there to be inspired for my next biggest chart topping hit single. I was there in the same way a pupil would climb the mountain side to bring a single hallucinative flower to his master. He wanted to be shown the path and so did I. I recorded a few videos on my mobile phone and tried to document the experience. After the affects kicked in there was nothing further. This was no longer some sort of fun and alternative experiment to generate more neural connections in my brain. It was a serious life event and I was panicking.

“You know you have to write it down. While its fresh” my friend Shaq announced on the phone.

“Yeah, I was thinking about that” I said.

“You’re gonna regret it if you don’t”

“Im just not sure if I fancy it right now, y’know? But I get it. I get it. I’ll start to forget what it was like”

“Yeah thats true. Your memories will fade”

“You know its even more than that. I think my mind will try to protect me from it. As if it is a trauma and I’m suffering PTSD. I know that sounds strong and I don’t have PTSD but also, maybe I do a little. Kinda”

I wrote this book on the third day after my experience. It was difficult to write the words. I was smoking and eating banana chips bought from the petrol station opposite. I was living the life of luxury in a beachside hostel for $180 pesos per night. All I did was write this book, tan and sweat in the heat. I just couldn’t deal with anything else. I needed a holiday from my holiday.

I waited three days to write this book. After a month my memories started to fade and the impact lessened. I can still remember the traumatic feelings I felt the following few days. The words I use in this book can be strong and sometimes they don’t flow very well. But they are accurate and so, for the accuracy of my story I have left them alone. Various sentences and words may seem out of place but this book isn’t about topping charts or earning billions in my latest revenue stream. It is a detailed run down of an experience and must remain as close to the truth as possible.

This is a gift. My gift to you. Something to educate others and help with their own journey. I am not some crazy (not yet) hippy junky setting sail for a quest to become-one with our mother earth. I am a successful-ish software engineer born in a tiny market town in the south of England. I am just another ant working alongside the colony until he dies. But before I go, I want to live, explore and to learn about the world. You probably do too. And so, I present you with this story - my story.

I hope you can accept my attempt to write this book and my own portrayal of this sequence of events. It is exactly what it sounds like. It is what you think. It happened. I nearly lost myself. I lost my mind. It was traumatic and I am sure it was different to your experience. This was mine so we shouldn’t argue about any differences we might have had. Your story is yours and you should write a book about it too.

San Jose Del Pacific — Mexico

The Journey

I had a plan to travel south from Oaxaca City down to the coastal town of Puerto Escondido. I was aware that it was the rainy season but not of the magical wonders it could bring with it. In the hostel I could overhear several people discussing the great pilgrimage to San Jose and it became clear this was for some highly enlightened mushroom picking. Curiosity may have killed the cat but why would it do the same to me? I was completely immune and this adventure sounded interesting. Muy interesante! It was playful and daring so I asked myself how I could gather more information. Its not that drugs go hand in hand with the traveller vibe, its that opening your mind does. We don’t all need to be holding hands in a circle, wearing daisy chain necklaces and start shooting up heroin together. We are educated explorers who seek out truth and true enlightenment — what ever that means.

The idea had evolved more in my mind as the tales of the long, bumpy and windy roads flooded the hostel. The thought that I could make a pit stop for both dividing the journey and accumulating a few magic mushrooms was not an unpleasant one. It was not unpleasant at all. I was meeting some one in Puerto Escondido the following Thursday (Jueves) and so had time to spend even a few days roaming around the mountains like a wild beast foraging for magical treats. Of course I couldn’t have foretold or have even comprehended the journey that awaited me.

I packed my travel bag from the T-Shirts, wash bag, power bank and many cables that were strewn across my dorm bed. Carefully I loaded my travel-bag onto my torso and buckled myself in. With my day bag also strapped to my chest I was a traveller once again, walking off into the dusty distance in search for new dwellings and some adventure.

The shuttles leaving to San Jose De Pacifico were clearly marked on the hostel map and even my poor directional skills couldn’t fail me. I stopped outside what looked to be a taxi company. The white walls were scribbled with the names of many towns and at the top right was written ‘ an Jose’. I used my refined detective skills to understand the title was just partly rubbed off. A bulky white mini bus trapped the entrance leaving only one foot on its left side to squeeze past. There was no way I was going to squeeze myself through this tiny gap, not with both my bags squashing me like a sandwich. I stood there like a hopeless idiot for about ten minutes until the van eventually moved.

As usual there was not a great reception but I hailed down the first hombre who wandered outside. The Mexicans may not offer their help freely but they are the kindest people I have met on my travels so far.

My bus arrived. We all left the mini van to be handed down our bags from the secured roof rack. One of the girls wasn’t so lucky with her plastic suitcase as it came hurtling down to earth crashing into the pavement edge. As I saw the crack of the wheel arch expand open I simply turned and walked away. I had arrived at my destination. This was San Jose and I was hungry.

I was starving and needed to eat. The restaurants were laid out before me on this tiny strip of road. There can’t have been more than 20 buildings total on each side of the road. This place was tiny. A small populated town of a mere 500 people. This was a remote town alright.

In classic western style, I scanned to see which buildings were more developed and which restaurants were more welcoming. I find that my first choice is usually not focussed on cuisine but the ambiance of a place. Either that or it is worn down enough to be categorised as an ‘experience’. Usually in Mexico your meal is housed only in some random empty space restaurant-ified only by adding a few tables and garden chairs. This was the latter.

As I placed my bags to one side and sat at a front table I could feel the unfriendly vibes from the staff. It was as if I had been their first customer in three days. I’m not sure if it was the clear traveller-seeking-mushroom-journey vibe I was emanating or my recently shaven skull and full beard, but they simply ignored me.

After successfully ordering a Tladjuda with vegetables and devouring it like it was my last meal, I started thinking about hostels. It’s unusual for me to arrive in a new area without at least booking the first night. However, this was a remote little village unlikely to see the benefits of online marketing. There wasn’t going to be any listings on my HostelWorld app here! I had to do it the old fashioned way.

Before I set sail for San Jose, I had quizzed a female volunteer about her stay here. Her first hostel was constantly without toilet paper and had only cold showers. But it had a mountain view. It didn’t sound appealing. Not even if it did have a gorgeous view to write home about. Her second bout of accommodation was a log cabin for $200 pesos each a night each for two people sharing. Also overlooking the mountains but doing it in style. I had spent so much money renting apartments in Mexico City that I was leaning more towards keeping the costs to a minimum. But at the same time, $400 pesos for an entire hut, overlooking a mountain, in a tiny remote village sounded like a decent new experience and I was keen.

An American couple were at the reception desk when I arrived and conveniently had just concluded their business. Ready to practice my Spanish, I walked straight up to the receptionist and immediately she told me that they had no rooms available. Damn it. I couldn’t understand a word she was saying to me but it didn’t sound good and her shaking head didn’t fill me with hope. The American lady having just acquired one of these cabins jumped to my aid translating between the two of us.

All the rooms were taken except one. One last cabin for $600 pesos per night but it included a fire place. Did you say fireplace? What was I going to do, say no? I didn’t want to walk back along the roadside with all my bags, back to where I had been dropped off. The room was within my price range and if you convert the currencies it was very reasonably priced. But understand that I wasn’t earning any income and this one night was more than the cost of 3 nights for me.

To put this in context I had been staying in an extremely nice hostel for a mere $170 pesos per night including cooked breakfast and unlimited filtered water. Paying three times that cost for a third of the duration and having to leave the following morning was never going to be an enticing proposition. This was my travellers mind set and it was all about getting the highest value for the lowest price. I had already thrown caution to the wind in Mexico City renting whole apartments as if I were a local like any other. This life of luxurious spending wasn’t sustainable and had to stop. Of course I threw caution to the wind and decided to ‘treat myself’. If you are going to do it, do it right — I told myself. If I was destined to have this experience why wouldn’t I want a log cabin with an open fire overlooking the mountains? It was a good choice. It was the correct choice. I cannot fathom having this experience in any other setting and if I had then perhaps I would be telling a very different story.

I walked down this beautifully quaint garden path that branched off one by one to each individual cabin. I had my own path. I had my own building. No immediate neighbours and nothing obstructing my view except one large electricity cable hanging low cross the mountain I now resided. I had two deck chairs on the porch. A stone fire place requiring the cave man in me. A large king size bed centred in the room. A separated toilet and shower. My own cabin just to sit and watch the pretty-much untouched mountainous terrain all interwoven and never ending. It was beautiful and I got excited.

I could feel the energy around me. All the little puzzle pieces were falling in place and it was no coincidence. I had made this happen and it was far from over. This was the beginning of something. I could smell it.

There were humming birds hovering next to the surrounding trees, lizards with cut off tails slithering around the concrete walls and all as a garnish to a glorious view. This was a great idea. This was a bloody marvellous idea. I scattered my belongings around the cabin trying to detach myself from two heavy backpacks while simultaneously searching for some dry kindling. Like most westernised men I don’t own a fire place nor do I start bonfires that often. Also like most men, I have the false confidence that my fires would burn the brightest and provide more warmth becoming the most magnificent display ever created by man. I would stand tall over this glorious display and feel proud. I would be a man amongst nature and it just wouldn’t get better than this. Then I had a thought. What if I was able to find some magic mushrooms first. I could build the fire while I wait for the affects to kick in. After all, was I going to start my quest for mushrooms after I had lit a dangerous fire? No! Ok. Glorious idea!

I had no method of scoring mushrooms. I knew nobody and hadn’t yet seen any fluorescent lights advertising ‘illegal drugs sold here’. I had however seen the word ‘magic’ painted outside a little wooden shack which I assumed was part of the restaurant menu. I had read online reviews from small groups who successfully ordered cups of mushroom tea in restaurants opposite the main hostel. Some were deemed worthy of such treats and were allowed to purchase another for home consumption. Others were immediately turned away because of their negative energy and perhaps boisterous attitudes. This is a small village filled with generations of local families living simple lives and unlikely to be interested in selling psychedelic drugs for the novelty of watching loud groups go a little crazy. For those who are interested in such an experience know that having a more grounded attitude will travel far here. It was the only information I had and even though you probably lose more times than you win in these situations I wasn’t going to score anything sat inside the cabin. I had a vague plan and decided to act on it.

I walked back along the winding road until I saw the main hostel on the small strip of shops and restaurants. As I approached the cluster of buildings the magic shack appeared to be closed and I wasn’t about to start banging on doors like some loser who’s looking to get high. I continued on past to see if there were other options with a hippy-lets-get-high kinda vibe but I stopped when I reach a small produce shop and could see the cluster coming to an end. It was over. I could see the dirt road start again and lead the emptiness into the distance. It started to rain.

Immediately a kind-faced shop keeper popped out of his shop and greeted me. He asked if he could help. He seemed genuinely interested in providing directions in case I was lost. The rain became heavy and we stood together trapped under his shop canapé making the usual introductions. He asked about my origins and I told him how I loved his country. He was giving me the same chat he no doubt gave to all the travellers seeking a voyage here. I hoped this was the foreplay before he made a sale. Did he know who I should speak to or where I needed to go? He told me about the woman who organised the mushroom picking. It was at 10 am the following morning and cost £200 pesos. This was the sell. Obviously he wanted me to book this experience now and hand over some money. I suddenly felt the pressure of this car salesman masked as a kind produce worker who saw me only as a dumb thrill-seeking gringo. I had my answer and I wasn’t disappointed. All I had to do was come back in the morning and book another night in a hostel.

I felt the achievement of scoring some intel for my stay here and started to look forward to the following day. The excitement of foraging for mushrooms like a farm animal seeking truffles was over powering. I showed my interest in the activity, asking for prices, times and information of the overall experience. He responded with the same kind smile and kept repeating himself. He was stuck in a loop. He again mentioned the times and the picking process but not closing the deal. What was with this guy? I thought we made a connection and reached an understanding. He was selling and I was buying. Lets move this along please.

As a native English speaker I am lazy with other languages. I have taken two evening classes for Italian and Japanese having absolutely no success. But I can at least now appreciate the difficulty of speaking a non-native language. I became to realise this kind man was used to saying these phrases as if he was reciting a memorised script which gave a false sense of his speaking abilities. He spoke again in detail about the foraging and I spoke more firmly.

“So how do I join the mushroom picking tomorrow? I will arrive here at 10 in the morning. A little earlier?” I said, crossing my arms.

“Let me go and get my babies” he said as he wandered off into the back of his shop completely ignoring what I had just said.

His wife and daughter were poking their heads out to sneak a peak at this bald, bearded, white, posh-sounding, English man who was seeking the same journey as all other Touristicos. I hate feeling like a tourist, even when I know I am one. I see myself as a traveller and observer of cultures but in reality I am the same thrill seeker who believes he can risk death just for a little fun.

He came wandering back holding 7 fairly clean mushrooms wrapped up inside a rather soft leaf. All of this was kept closed by one small elastic band. He was gently cupping them taking care not to reveal them to the world. Something that most drug dealers tend to do when handling illegal substances. I wondered why though. There were no police here and the area was famous for this common past time. I thought maybe it was all for show. An act to manipulate me. If I thought I was getting a better deal then he could charge me more so he was playing out a canned routine. Looking back I guess I can say I was wrong about that. In fact, the people of Mexico have been very honest and I haven’t experienced too much over charging during my time here. Perhaps this kind man was simply trying to protect his daughter from even seeing these quite dangerous little atom bombs. Don’t get me wrong, he still did over charge me, but I also got my moneys worth!

I hadn’t bought them yet. He didn’t even try to sell them to me. He was still talking about the god damn mushroom picking the following morning. Why!? He was playing a solid game of poker and I was simply sat their showing my hand and sucking my thumb. I needed to be pushier and more demanding. It was on.

I asked him if this beautifully cupped collection of mushrooms was for him. He spoke of his time relaxing in his chair and eating them one by one. I asked him if these were for his own personal stash. He told me how he would eat one each half an hour. I asked him if he would sell them. He reminisced about connecting with nature after eating 3 of his babies. I told him I wanted to buy them if he had more for himself. He responded by placing his hand on my shoulder, my arms still folded and waved his other hand across the sky talking of his journey. We were not having a conversation. I was talking to a brick wall. He was a genius!

“Cuanto cuesta?” I announced in Spanish.

“Cinco cientos” He responded plainly. Finally I had an answer.

I was running the math in my head. He wanted $500 pesos and knew it was over-priced. I was expecting $300 pesos from over hearing all the talks in the hostel. What were my options here? I’m terrible at haggling and in the great scheme of life $500 pesos was also still pretty reasonable. But thinking like a westerner who pays £9 for an alcoholic cocktail isn’t going to help you sustain travelling around the world for 3 years. You need to know what is reasonable for the area not for your cosmopolitan lifestyle.

Of course I was going to say yes and give this guy what ever he asked for. Perhaps if he had asked for $2000 pesos I would have walked away. But he didn’t and so I didn’t. I bought them and then he did something I really didn’t expect. He turned to me, grabbing my arm and said;

“You should come and see me tomorrow. Tell me about your journey. Ha ha. That would be nice”.

This man. This friendly and happy man wanted to see me again. That just isn’t something you do if you are scamming someone for extra cash. I was even more excited, if not a little confused. Either way, I had scored. I had made it to this little remote village on a whim and held in my hands the key to spiritual enlightenment. Not to mention the beautiful cabin on the mountain side. Another puzzle piece just fell into my lap. I was in for a good night.

The torrential rain had been pouring down for half an hour now. It was getting worse. It was 0.3 kilometres back to the cabin and I had what I came for. I could walk in a hurry and so what if I got a little wet, it wasn’t going to kill me. Throwing caution to the wind I shook my new friends hand and jumped off the pavement into the road. I was keen on starting my evening of careless exploration.

The rain was hard. It was heavy and much thicker than I had ever experienced. By the time I got to the first corner I felt the cold and then the squelch inside each shoe as they soaked up streams of water with every step. I had barely walked 100 meters when I realised it was a mistake. But I was committed now so simply had to keep on moving forwards. Using some basic math I realised I would be at least 3 times as wet when I got to my destination, which would mean all my remaining dry areas would be more than a little damp!

I got to the cabin and walked straight into the bathroom. I untangled myself from the wet clinging clothes and backpack. I was almost as wet as if I had been floating in a swimming pool without a care in the world. But I cared. I was feeling tired from moving my legs against the weight of heavy jeans and needed to free myself from these chains. My waterproof jacket was no longer waterproof and my shoes were probably ruined but the mushrooms were safe. Protected by its magical leaf and elastic band. I threw my jacket over the top of the shower wall and placed by backpack and socks on the tiled bathroom floor. In the end my shoes, socks, trousers and backpack were soaked through. I now had some extra work to do before the morning. Luckily I had a fire place and a keen spirit to lite a roaring fire.

I recorded myself a little as I entered the cabin. I had no idea if I was going to record the whole ordeal of simply record myself talking after each one. It was an exercise in within an experiment never intended to be shared. Looking back I would like to see more footage of what happened. Perhaps even from cameras scattered around the cabin utilising different angles and points of view. But also I am terrified at the thought of actually watching it. At the time of writing this I have yet to rewatch the footage I do have. Even for material for this book I just can’t bring myself to look at it. For what ever reason, it scares me.

The Fire

I was so excited about starting my own fire. I was born in the countryside but never owned acres of land to build bonfires or even a little chimney fire. However I do have some flashbacks of being a young boy watching my father pouring gasoline over a massive splintered structure. Perhaps thats what I needed, some accelerant or at least lots of dry kindling.

Luckily I had tried to construct my first attempt before my quest to the village and so had gathered some dry leaves alongside some small twigs. It wasn’t much but it was enough. I had even tried to ignite this attempt using toilet paper from the single roll upon the toilet cistern. The pyramidical structure held up by small logs to larger logs would not stay lit. The fire would roar off the toilet paper only to distinguish and leave me to repeat my actions killing off what little paper remained.

From my first attempt lay twigs, leaves, branches and cut offs from the bark of the larger logs, all gathered on the stone floor in front of the fireplace. It was all ready to build a new and more improved construction. I would spend the rest of my evening here and I was having fun.

I ate one of the mushroom tops together with its stalk. I had rinsed it in the bathroom sink under the undrinkable tap water and deemed it clean enough but perhaps a little gritty from the dirt. I was hoping to feel some of the affects after about an hour or so. That gave me enough time to build a fire and get prepared. My new friend the green grocer mentioned some important instructions. His stories described eating one mushroom every thirty minutes. He would eat one, relax, lean back in his chair and be calm. He felt surrounded by nature and immersed himself in it. He connected with it and after eating four would feel ‘very happy’ as he put it.

“And when I have four of my babies I am happy. I feel connected with this nature and feel very happy. Thirty minutes I have another of my babies. Very happy.”

Thirty minutes passed while building the fire and nothing. A few hours before I had smoked three drags of a joint. It wasn’t much but enough to relax and feel good positive vibes before setting sail to find mushrooms in the village. I wasn’t stoned and can’t say I noticed much more than being a little dazed. It was only a 2 on a sobriety scale from 1 to 10. Ten being on the moon and 0 being stone cold sober. I doubt a small amount of weed contributed much to the outcome of the evening but who knows.

I placed my trousers onto a chair dragging it to the left of the fire pace, which would allow heat to reach the open room as well as drying out my trousers. By this time I had successfully lit the fire and it had ignited the larger logs. It wasn’t yet the roaring representation of the rath of God I had imagined but it sure was beautiful.

I put my shoes inside the stone fireplace to the right of the fire. They were close to the flames. Close enough to melt the soles if the fire moved or increased in temperature, but never did. It always remained in control. I constantly moved back and forth inspecting the rubber soles, my paper notepad which leaned up against the front, my trousers hanging from the chair, and back pack hanging half in and half on the stone floor. The speed of drying was tediously slow. With every centimetre each item was spread apart another hour would be needed to remove the water. I needed to place each item inside the fire place almost as if I was roasting marshmallows and only moving them away before they started to burn. I knew I was going to cause some damage to my belongings. Perhaps only a little. However, I was prepared to take the risk. It was my fault for walking in a typhoon when I could have just as easily sat in a neighbouring restaurant. And now I would pay the price by spending the rest of my evening checking on my clothes.

I looked around the cabin to see if I had everything I needed for the nights adventures. I had eaten. I wasn’t hungry. I had all of my belongings — although some of them wet. I had the cabin and the mushrooms. Did I need more? The reception area sold processed snacks and cold carbonated beverages. It would make sense for them to sell water too but even if they did I didn’t think needed it. I could have lasted the night without anything more. However, travelling has refined my preparation skills and I was questioning how I would feel later as the hours past. I was listening to the rationalisations I was making and all of a sudden made a firm decision. It is better to have something than not have it right? I thought about what I was planning to do. Hell, what I had already started doing. It was my night on mushrooms and I wanted to organise myself properly. I was going to feel something this time and had all the ingredients of a magical evening planned. There was no point in ruining it with laziness not to walk up one path back to reception. Even if it was only crisps and biscuits to eat. I had to go.

I walked up to the reception area and bought one 500ml bottle of Coke Cola in case I needed some sugar to bring me back up. I also bought 1.5 litres of water, a packet of dried banana crisps and one last minute purchase of home made biscuits.

I looked at my watch and it was 7:15pm. I had waited an hour so I went and washed another one. I decided it was an intelligent move to wash them all together then simply munch away throughout the course of the evening. The mushroom tops started to come off the smaller ones and tear apart for the medium sizes. It didn’t matter. They all had the same fate. I knew I should be cautious when consuming each one. I had read a review online written by a woman who threw up because she underestimated their strength. They were strong and she didn’t realise. Neither did I. I told myself I was not going to make the same mistake and so I waited another hour. So far I had eaten 2 smallish tops and one stem over a 2 hour time period. I had waited 2 hours for the first one to hit and 1 hour for the second one to take affect. But I wasn’t really feeling anything. I mean perhaps take this information with a pinch of salt as I was probably more toxicated than I felt. Similar to a drunk announcing they are sober after 3 pints. I felt fine, but could quite as easily been experiencing some degree of impaired judgement. To me though, I simply felt a little high and not much more. Perhaps a bit more energetic. I wanted to feel something. I wanted much more than this. I was going for a smoke!

I wasn’t planning to over do it. My plan wasn’t working and I needed to make some alterations. This is the way my mind works. I have a plan and constantly keep reviewing it. Not to question my own judgement, but to stay sharp and keep refining an idea until it reaches a more perfect outcome. After all, an idea on paper is very different from the actual event itself. You must always reflect and make adjustments when in the moment itself. I was going to feel something that night and I had something with a solid track record. In my tin (a tiny black tin for mints — the mints did not survive) I had the joint from earlier. The same Blue Dream J that I had smoked before the taxi to San Jose. Just a little though. Only two or three drags and this was my new found strategy for a daytime Sativa. You didn’t want to smoke the whole joint in the same way you wouldn’t drink an entire bottle of vodka one pint at a time. The THC content is high these days, genetically increased to please the masses. So I would inhale only a couple of times and gently place it back into my tin allowing the lack of oxygen to preserve it until the next time I was in need.

I sat outside on the glorious deck chairs directly facing the sea of mountains ahead of me. The fog had lifted and the darkness replaced it. It was, however still a beautiful view and the silence calmed you in a way I can’t describe. I was relaxed and I very content in that moment. I opened my tin and started to smoke. I took my time and then something caught my eye. I could see some movement right at the top of the path. Of the path to my particular cabin. A man. He was walking down the path heading straight towards me. Panic stations! Why was he walking to see me? Could he smell the weed? This was Mexico. There was no way he was going to become annoyed at a little marijuana smoke when the whole village was filled to the brim with magic mushrooms. Was he?

I threw my joint back into the tin and continued to sit looking rather inconspicuous. Or at least I thought I did. Perhaps this older man would walk around the corner only to see this bald headed greesy and sweaty man with big golf ball eyes staring back at him. I had no real idea of my own normality at that point.

He carried a bucket in his right hand and some matches in his left.

“Buenas noches.. something Spanish” he said rattling his small packet of matches.

“No, gracias. Estoy Bien. Gracias. Muchas Gracias” I said, being far too over polite.

I got it though. I understood what he was offering to me and then started to wonder why he was offering to lite my fire so late in the night. My fire had been roaring for quite a few hours now.

I felt relief as he turned and walked back up the garden path. I waited patiently for him to disappear into the neighbouring cabins so I could smoke once again. As I clutched my tin in my hand and peeled open the lid he magically appeared again from one of the other cabins. He was fast at what he did. He wasn’t inside each cabin for long and just kept on appearing every minute or so. I’m not usually that cautious when I spark up a joint. After all, if you can smoke a toxic cigarette I should be able to light my peace pipe! But he was staff here and I felt too nervous to be that arrogant. I was a little annoyed and was fixated on smoking more. But I couldn’t. I managed to smoke 2 drags so overall I guess it was a success. I just wanted three and so I felt a little cheated still wanting another toke. I took my tin and slowly walked inside.

After eating the entire packet of biscuits I realised what a great idea it had been to buy more food. I had enough to last the night and it wouldn’t be a problem to gather more if needed. I was enjoying eating. I checked the time and it was 8:40pm. Twenty more minutes and reception would close leaving me unable to buy more food from anywhere. After all, I was in the middle of the mountains and doubted Uber Eats delivered to this exact address or even a hundred miles in each direction! If you are ever in this situation just go and get food. You know you want it. You will eat it and theres no point waiting until you no longer have options.

I ate the largest mushroom top and went back to reception. This should do the trick I thought. I bought more of the same home made biscuits which were deliciously mourish and a packet of processed chocolate biscuits. The latter reminded me of Bourbons from England and I wanted to spoil myself. Two packets of biscuits is a little excessive but in times like this you need to ask yourself, why the hell not?.

The time line now gets a little fuzzy. I remember the shopkeeper mentioning he leaves a thirty minute gap as the period between his magical meals. I was waiting more like an hour each time and so I waited another half hour before I decided to pop another mushroom top. Perhaps I had waited another ten minutes more. I took the left overs of two crumbled tops that had separated during my attempt at washing the gritty mud off each stem and threw them into my mouth. I was going to feel something this time for sure.

The Mirror

I looked at the mirror and could tell that something was a little different. If I starred beyond the physical reflective material and lost my focus I could become a little more.. lets say.. out of it. It is difficult to explain and put into words but think about filming affects used in Hollywood movies when the background behind the protagonist appears to stretch and become more distant. I didn’t actually witness anything moving. It objects remained the same. I guess I could describe it as altering my point of view, recognising lines, shapes and objects in a different way than before. My eyes were interesting to look at but I had no focus on them. I stood and I just watched as I was shown something kind of different.

This must be the affects, I thought. This was it. Then I sighed and thought, this was it? Really? All I was going to get was a new ability to recognise different shapes and the outline of objects that already existed. I sighed and grabbed my tin. As my last drag was stolen from me it was time to have another smoke. I don’t know how much time had past since I saw the late night security guard slash maintenance man but I knew it was enough. However as soon as I stood outside immediately I saw him pop out of a cabin and then down the path directly in front of me, which led down to a lower altitude of the hill side. I waited getting excited each time he disappeared into a cabin only to see him reappear minutes later. He was everywhere.

I waited for him to vanish from my sight but he never did. I waited until the point where he had walked to the bottom layer of the cabins and then to talk to a person directly under a lit area. I was annoyed because I wanted to smoke and also didn’t care too much about the staff. However I always told myself that I need to be more careful with smoking marijuana in different countries. You don’t really know what might happen if you’re caught. Be sensible, I thought and just chose the correct moment that feels right. But the light stayed on and the people there remained so I just lit up for two quick drags and gently placed it back inside the tin.

I had to ration my remaining weed since leaving Mexico City. I left the city but also my connection to purchase my Blue Dream sativa of choice. Each time I smoked I restricted myself to only a few puffs. That is 2 or 3 drags and it was amazing actually. I was still high but energetic enough to remain active, accomplishing something with my day. I could immerse my mind on learning a language but also walk around the city practising talking to the locals and trying out new words.

I was still sat on the deck chair outside. My friend, the good Samaritan trying to keep all the guests warm and their fires alight was now walking back up the pathway. Oh dear god, I thought. Now he is coming back towards me and I won’t be able to smoke the rest of this. I waited for him to disappear in one of the cabins but this time he just walked up what felt like 500 meters of windy pathways to simply stroll past me. I wasn’t going to wait that long, after a few minutes of sitting there I gave up. It looked weird that I was still sat there staring into the darkness. I only had this amazing view for the one night. Perhaps it wasn’t that weird but the view wasn’t really there any more. It had faded into a sea of darkness.

I was a little restless. I went back into the cabin and ate the last two more mushroom tops. I had done it. I had eaten all of my mushrooms. I wasn’t so keen on eating the stems. In fact it occurred to me that I hadn’t exactly done my research here. I didn’t know if I was supposed to eat the whole thing or not. I started off with what I thought are more the fruits of the plant with the stems being more of a disposable garnish. I felt disappointed with the lack of research I had done this time. Although, in my defence most people don’t usually offer a detailed explanation of how mushrooms affect you. They are blissfully ignorant of the science and simply see what happens. I guess I was the same on this occasion.

Im not sure how much time had passed at this point. I realised nothing was going to happen beyond what had happened. I felt a little dazed in the same way you could feel a little tipsy. Perhaps a bit more greasy and energetic. I had done it again. Taken mushrooms with no affects. These mushrooms were just not strong enough or I had some weird immunity to them. No, I thought. That cannot be true. I had taken them before at a 420 festival in Vancouver. They affected me then and there was no reason why they wouldn’t affect me now. Were these mushrooms all duds, just something soft that locals could sell to silly tourists looking for their stupid mind journeys? Either way, I knew nothing was going to happen and I should just shrug it off to enjoy the gifts I had been given. I wasn’t angry but very disappointed.

Some time past. I cannot remember how much or what I had done in that time. Most likely I was sat down by the fire moving my shoes into more strategic locations. Drying my wet clothes required a lot of attention and constant supervision.

Still feeling very disappointed I wandered into the bathroom. Fuck it. I had been patient and quite cautious. I was respectful and took my time. I had slowly taken these little fellas over a long time period taking care to slowly increase the dose. Not to overdo it and look where it got me. I looked down at the white plate that now only held discarded mushroom stalks. I questioned why I had left the stems behind. Why hadn’t I eaten them? They are apart of the fungus. You eat the whole mushroom when you buy them from the supermarket do you not? Perhaps I still had an opportunity after all. There was only one way this was going work, if at all. I had to eat them all at once. Staggering them would only result in the same disappointing affects. In fact slowly eating them wasn’t even a thought I was willing to explore. This was the only option. I ate all six stems. I ate them one at a time staring at myself in the mirror. I spoke to myself as if I was on a game show. Not because I was high as a kite, which by the way would probably make you much less talkative. It was because I wanted company. I wanted to walk through my life as if I was an observer writing down the affects of different experiences. I just wanted to talk to myself and thats only normal. Right?

I starred at myself thinking long and hard about the look that I had. My shaved pink head with this growing bushy beard housing go faster silver stripes down each side. I liked it. It felt like me. I thought I looked cool and I was talking to myself in action. This, I thought, was how other people see me. This is how I look to other people. I look cool. I ate another mushroom stem and sparked up a new dialog. I can’t remember exactly what I was saying but it wasn’t anything crazy or over the top. I was merely playing around, amusing and observing myself.

I remember thinking of bear grills as I ate this raw gritty mushroom stem and how we could all survive in the wild. As long as we just adapt and stop being so squeamish. We’ve lost our roots to our own natural evolution replacing it with a more ‘civilised’ set of rules we all must obey — just because. I was eating muddy mushrooms. I was chewing them and swallowing them down with my bottled water. I had done for all of my babies. I didn’t even think about the taste, I just understood it was practical. I needed to eat it. Looking back the mushrooms most likely helped with this frame of mind.

I was back in the bedroom kneeling down starring at the fire marvelling at all of its glory. This was simply an unconscious action at this point. Moving back and fourth from the bathroom to the fire had become my life. And so I went back to the bathroom and stared at the mirror. I wanted to feel something. I wanted to experience my journey. Where was it? Why had it not happened yet? Lets do it. Bring it on! Lets see what you’ve got!

I stared at the mirror, gently relaxing and wondering if it could help push my mental high towards something a little stronger. I stood in front of the mirror staring at myself, gazing beyond the image of myself, thinking about all those Hollywood movies containing a scene exactly like this. I looked deep into my eyes and saw something. I saw myself differently. I slowly started to not recognise myself. My face was a face of a human being first and only recognisable as an individual second. I would describe it as visually seeing the same reflection but with my brain altering how it processed the information. It was strange and hard to describe. The mushrooms were working. My eyes were not quite in focus and I was still letting myself relax, being drawn in to a new method of analysing visual inputs. I was looking at the anatomy of the human being starring straight at me. I didn’t see myself any longer. I saw two eye balls stuck quite a distance apart — they looked oddly far apart and completely independent as if they could look in any direction independently. I noticed the symmetry of my face. The structure was incredible as if built in a factory churning out organic robots. Evolution had built this creature. Evolution had built this face utilising layer upon layer of complex components all stacked upon one another in the perfect way. I was being shown a completely different perspective of deconstructing an object into its individual parts. I saw the individuals inside the community and no longer the sum of its parts. I just couldn’t see myself any longer. In 35 years I had never experienced this obvious understanding. Of course I knew it, but I never felt it. I could feel a slight gravitation to look towards my left eye as if it was allowing me to see it in a higher detail. I was being drawn in and I wasn’t sure where it was going to take me.

I snapped myself out of it. At least I think I did. I took a breath and just walked away. Something was happening and it was difficult to know if it was positive. I remember feeling in control but felt a little funny lets say. Im not sure how I reacted to the experience. I believe I simply shrugged it off discarding any evidence that there was a different point of view than my usually normality. I was normal again and nothing much mattered beyond that.

The Joint

I checked on the fire. I poked it for a bit to manoeuvre some logs which had started to burn out. I was on a mission to keep this fire going strong throughout the night. It was beautiful. This cabin was beautiful and so was the view. I got excited again. Fuck it. This was my one chance to have a crazy experience. The one night to travel amongst the stars and connect with nature on some sort of mind journey. Think about the setting I was in. I had an open log fire, in a cabin, in the woods, in the mountains, overlooking other mountains, gazing up at the stars in complete silence and all in peaceful solitude. Enough is enough. I needed to feel something and I had just the right solution — marijuana.

I couldn’t stop at this juncture. I couldn’t leave it at this. I’ve never seen different colours like so many others have. I haven’t seen objects move or hallucinate to see flying elephants on the ceiling. I hadn’t even connected with nature yet — what ever that means. How could I stop now? All the stars had aligned, I had my puzzle pieces and this moment was my chance. I wasn’t sure what for. But I knew marijuana enhances certain drugs or at least thats what my Mexican friends had told me. If nothing else, getting high would allow me to enjoy the scenery and enjoy the rest of these banana crisps. I started to roll a joint.

It took a solid half an hour to roll a joint with a king skin paper. I had no intension of smoking the whole joint. Blue Dream is 24% THC and I had also taken some magic shrooms (not sure if you knew that part already) so why smoke to an excess? I wouldn’t. I could easily put the rest in the tin for the next day. I started rolling by the fire just watching thinking about how great this night was. I was still having fun even though I was frustrated. I guess I might have felt a little over confident. I’m not sure if this was a side effect of the mushrooms or simply my own personality. Either way, I was energetic enough for a challenge. This was harmless. I felt similar to being high but also with an energy boost as if I was also drinking a few alcoholic beers.

I gazed at the view from the window directly in front of me as I sat by the table grinding my weed. I then starred into the fire and back to the table peeling off a large rolling paper. I turned back to face the fire and back to the table. I tore off a cardboard filter and rolled it into a cylinder placing it at the left end of the paper. Back to the fire. Back to the window. Back to the table and so forth and so on. I spoke out loud, “come on. Lets go and smoke!”. A solid half an hour had past. I was scatty and couldn’t focus but wanted more than just this feeling.

Another thought popped into my mind. An hour had passed (probably not actually) since I took those stems from the mushrooms. Who knows how much time had actually past. There were no clocks on the walls or watch strapped to my arm. But at the time I believed it was an hour since I had eaten the final course of shrooms. This is shit, or so I thought.

I checked my pockets for the key, my wallet and my phone and then went outside. I looked for the Hombre working hard to ensure each fire was lit and customers were warm. Not that I cared much for what he was doing, I just wanted to know where he was. After all, I was a little kid doing something naughty. He wasn’t there. I didn’t even sit down on the chairs. That was my plan the past two times and each I was caught off guard by the wandering night guard. Not again.

I lit the joint, relaxed my muscles and became very happy in that moment. I had my baby. I had everything I needed to enjoy the rest of the night. This was going to be fun. Hell, this was already fun. I slowly turned to face the mountain with all of my body aligning to the parallel lines of this wondrous view.

Now, I can’t quite say why I was facing the door but I was. Snippets of the story now become a bit hazy. I knew that the last drag was slightly off some how. Not in taste. But in how I felt afterwards. At that precise moment I knew something was wrong. It just wasn’t ok any more. I had gone too far and I knew it. The mushrooms? Fuck, the mushrooms are actually going to do something! I shouldn’t have smoked. I knew that there was a line and I had just crossed it. I felt regret and concern. The concern was real and some how I knew that this roller coaster carriage was about to tip down and start racing towards the ground.

The Universe And Me

I was gone. Im not sure where and I couldn’t even tell you if I was standing or kneeling on the floor. I was still breathing and my heart still pumping. My brain had control over my body. My consciousness however, was some where else. I was gone. Each time I think back I don’t even have the concept a body. Only the perception and point of view that my mind had at that time. As if I were changing. Not hallucinating nor physically morphing into a creature growing in size until dominating the universe. No. It was me. I was growing in size and expanding across the universe but not in the literal sense. It was the same affect as in the mirror earlier that night but magnified a million times over. I became apart of the universe as an ant is apart of a colony. All I had done was walk over and join the line. I connected with every cell in my body feeling each one in each direction until I expanded exponentially into the universe. It was because I was connected. I was the last individual puzzle piece that had identity until it was connected. I became the picture.

I was learning. I was feeling. My brain processing. Everything changed. It was not image or sound. It was downloading information locked within your cells but only hidden by your mind. I was altering my brain somehow. Connecting neurones in a different but yet defined path. I experienced truth within my physical self. I experienced the truth. It was only truth. Nothing else. No flying elephants. No changing colors. I took look inside my body before reaching that cellular level where micro organisms live in a different world. A different point of view. They swim through their world instead of walking on it and now so did I.

I remember my decay into nothingness was linear. I started as myself inside a cabin having an individual identity, a personality until I lay dormant merely an essence swirling into the cellular ball pit of the universe. I was being taught about myself. I was being shown. I was being strapped to a chair and thrown off a building. I was hurtling into a world revealing itself before me. It was terrifying.

I was beyond individual elements constructing a human face. They too are but a result of another society. Another collective. A different genetic layer of communities gathered together to achieve a goal. I had no control over the depths I was being shown. I had a cellular understanding with my body. As if my mind suddenly opened the closed vaulted steel caged door where the life support systems were held. I wasn’t in any control. I just understood it. My body communicated with itself. It has always occurred but I never could be apart of it. I was the result of it. I was the skyscraper that was built. The finished product. The plane but not the pilot. I existed only as a product of other individuals working together for some reason. They had constructed me. They made me and I didn’t really exist.

I saw my cells. All of them. Not an organ or one particular part of me but all of me. I am a construction of different cells all communicating and dividing small tasks. I was communicating with them. Not by making conversation or interrupting their routine. I joined a dialog that already existed. Underway in full swing. It was me who was communicating with them. But already doing it. I had hitched a ride on an area of my brain that handled communication. I was learning and this was my classroom. It was only the truth.

I felt it. Everything. I had melted beyond the cells in my body to the most minuscule of particles floating across a universal sky. They did everything and yet they did nothing. They floated and they existed. They were me and they were themselves. It was a universal truth. I didn’t really exist. I was spread out in a four dimensional area merely reserved for a short while. Until of course it was no longer needed and became available for a different purpose. I didn’t think or process any thought. How could I? I simply existed spread out across each galaxy. Everywhere. Perhaps this is the final feeling before death and then you just stop. As if one million lights on an enormous board slowly disappear until only one remains. Then it doesn’t.

I started to rebuild my mind somehow and process something. I began to think. Confused. I felt my mind shift. I was thinking only in the sense that my brain was firing, connecting neurones with electricity throughout a network of paths. I was not capable of thought as any other human. I was alive. I was not me. I saw realities shifting because my very perception of it was altering. I was seeing something. Im not sure what it was. My mind melted but as if it simply shifted. It changed perception. Everything is perception. I was being given a very scary gift. I was being shown the difference perception makes by warping my own. Restructuring my brain to connect processes together that didn’t exist before. Physically I was the same. Mentally I was a different creature. A new being. I was thinking in new patterns. New strategies. Connecting unusual points together and creating new realities.

I was in a different reality. Then another. Then another. I couldn’t know how much time had past in each. I didn’t exist. How could I? I was something else now. I had shifted into a different understanding of life and how each had their own reality. It was a point of view and it was reality. I guess I could describe it not just viewing life from a Cats perception but living it through their point of view. Having the same brain structure with the same emotions and compulsions. Then just as quickly transferring your mind into a fly with fifty eyes all channeling data into the brain. All at once. I was shape shifting into mind bending realities where the only difference was perception. A creature with twenty legs has a totally different reality than a species with two. But they still exist. They have a function. They have a purpose. Their point of view guides them and may harm or provide kindness to others if it helps their goals. This is evolution. This is life. It is a cycle. We all have different points of view.

Am I an animal searching for food? A member of a society. A creature injecting CO2 into the atmosphere. A statistic. A mother. An adult. A child. A computer. A mechanism. A life. A source of food. A bag of atoms. A home. An engineer. A graduate. An office worker. A criminal. An advisor. A caged animal. A vote. A voice. A voter. A novelist. A creator. A father. A god. An actor. A stage of evolution. An organism. An alien. A killer. A murderer. A machine. An AI. A processor. Some storage space. A producer. A sperm bank. A money bank. A hose. A pocket. A missile. An astronaut. A flying machine. A guidance system. An Astrophysicist. A submarine. A virus. A cannon fodder. A hero. A symbol. A series of electrical impulses. An infestation. A thought. Or even a tool to speed up the evolutionary process. What am I? What are you? You shift your perception and all of a sudden everything changes. Perception. It is Perception.

Nothing matters. We are all apart of the universe. Every cell is connected and nothing matters. Why would it. All of these cells simply move around forming different things using other things and the whole process continues until it doesn’t any longer. Cells and organisms formed of other cells transform one another forming more cells and then beings. They exist and then they do not. We are a playground for the universe to move around atoms. Shifting them into different shapes and mechanisms. Toying with us without any real purpose or finishing line other than to exist until all the stars burn out leaving a darkness expanded to such a maximum speed that even light itself couldn’t touch another molecule in any direction. The universe will end even if it is to still exist in perfect nothingness.

I am a human being. I am different from others and I am the same. If one is correct it doesn’t disprove the other. We are so many different combinations of things and we are hard on ourselves. Deeming murder unacceptable unless we can benefit from it and it is hidden away from us. We live a lie and thats how we survive. We need to lie to ourselves that we are more. If we lost this concept and frame of mind we would become psychotic and lose control. We have to search for a higher meaning. That we as an individual personality matter. We must survive to create meaning and to create meaning we must survive.

We build societies and evolve to new understandings. We kill each other to take land and wealth. To be better than others. We rape and torture and hunt for food. We terraform the planet and kill off whole species making them extinct. We explore different galaxies and expand technologies. We are a society constructing other societies with similar goals. We eat. We sleep. Regenerate and start again. Even with the development of vast global civilisations and international connections we have fundamental needs that must be met. We need food. We need water. We have to protect and we will always have to conquer to survive.

A community of cells spreads itself throughout the universe. Each one connected and communicating with each other. Light particles shoot across the sky travelling 300 million metres each second they exist connecting with other atoms and forging the foundation for higher beings. Higher beings that cannot fathom the truth of the world beneath them. Beings that have developed brains to hunt for food and live for longer. Beings comprised of cells that once wanted to find food and formed an alliance which formed us. We are nothing but a result of a necessity to find food and water. We have truth but we must also lie to ourselves to survive.

I needed to think and to understand. What was happening? What was I seeing? I didn’t want this? Can I come back? I wanted to come back.

I was in the wooden cabin in front of the fire. I didn’t all of a sudden become self aware in the sense that I was off and then I was on. That happens to me sometimes when I drink alcohol and it is horrible. You simply wake up and you could be somewhere else, wandering down a street with no shoes on or in some ones garden with no phone. Its not a pleasant experience I can tell you that. No, I wasn’t aware of my own self awareness. I just know I was there and I was started to think using my brain. I was becoming me once more.

I was confused. Upset and incapable of thinking clearly. I knew to focus on my emotions. I could understand my emotions. I felt primeval. I was in my own mind, thinking, trying to think and find a way back to myself. It was horrible. I was not myself. I didn’t understand. I had done the opposite of evolution. I had de-evolved melting into myself until I shrank to the lowest form of cellular objects. I was ping ponging along through an evolutionary time line with a front row seat. I was neurones firing without infrastructure. I wanted to build my infrastructure back. I wanted to be me and have my own building blocks set in the correct position.

I was now on a quest for answers and to understand. I wanted the confusion to end. I knew I had to survive past this. I had to act. I had to focus on my emotions and let millions of years of evolution guide me. It led me to this understanding; We want the positive and we do not want the negative. We do not want to be hurt in any way and we want to feel safe. Our brain builds pathways and segments itself building roadblocks for the negative and freeways for the positive. We are a simple set of zeros and ones. We are also a machine. The fire was a positive emotion and so I moved towards the fire. The mirror gave me fear. I turned my back to the bathroom knowing it could suck me in like a vortex. I was still unsure of what though. What exactly happened and what I was afraid of. It was simply emotion. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be safe.

The quest for new experiences had taken me too far. I was thinking again and able to understand some thoughts. Be careful what you wish for. It was a thought that kept coming and was only obstructed by my own fear of not being alive. My own fear of not being me. Of chasing after new experiences to educate myself, increase my IQ and generally live a full life. I had now reached a stage of enlightenment building an understanding of the universe and the conclusion that life itself just didn’t matter. I had gone too far and in achieving my goals I had ended my pursuit for them. I imagined having only that one light lit up on the enormous board of lights. The enormous board of higher brain activity. I imagined my parents having to care for me. As if I were a comatose victim who had no higher brain function. To the outside world I would be another vegetable. To me I would have found the answers I was searching for and been giving this gift of enlightenment. I could lay there connected to the whole universe. Be careful what you wish for.

I wanted my simple little life again. I wanted the lies and ignorance of being more important. I wanted to have meaning and go back to searching for it. I didn’t want any more enlightenment if meant nothing else could exist. I wanted to have conscious thought and the ability to reflect, to understand. I wanted to come back. I had gone too far. I understood the feeling of comatose victims. I knew what they were going through and I understood the feelings they would have. That the families would never understand that they have reached a state of enlightened and oneness with the universe. They simply exist connected to a lower level of awareness without thought. They would only see the mistakes that put them there and in this case mine were drugs. I would be a drug addict who put himself into a coma. I would have been that experimental child who was always searching for more and found god in drugs. I would be remembered as a disaster instead of the inspirational man I aspire to be.Everyone told me to stay in the comfort of the pack and they were right. I should have never left the comfort and security they offered me. It was safe and now I was concerned my mind would shift never returning to its original state. I pushed too far and to have too many new experiences. I pushed it too far. My dad was right. I had everything a mammal needed to survive and I left the heard to explore and forage like it was an exciting adventure. What had I done? I was wrong. Dad, I was wrong.

Circles: The Loop

I don’t know if I was still on the floor at this point or if I had been roaming up and down the cabin for hours. All I know is I began pacing up and down completely unaware I was moving at all. I had a new understanding. It was information I already knew and was never kept a secret from me. The lifecycle of all living creatures. A fact that is taught to us as children but combined with protection. We inject white lies laying down foundations of hope and brightly coloured cuddly toys to distract us from the reality of such a truth. It is truth no matter how you perceive it. Only truth. We must protect ourselves from reality. From this knowledge. Acknowledge it but do not think of it nor not use it as an excuse to do upsetting things. This time I felt it. I connected with it and now I was trapped by it. We live. We breath. We find food and then we die.

All creatures forage in the search for food. You must survive. You need water and you need to find food. Life revolves around food. Food is life. Then you die. You find food. You sleep. Then you Die. You eat. You die. You find food. Good food. You find friends. You die. You eat. You drink. You have friends. You die. You hunt. You find warmth. You eat. You breathe. Your heart beats. You have warmth. Your’e cold. You die. You find food. Good food. You die. You avoid bad food. You die. You eat good food. You have friends. You travel on holidays. You find love. You have children. You find food. You eat. You have children. You drink with friends. You die. You eat. You find food. You die. You search for water. You find food. You meet friends. You have coffee. You eat. You sleep. You find food. You die. You smoke. You die. You find warmth. You are with family. You die. They die. Find food. Be warm. Have security. Protect what is yours. Find food. Good food. Walk. Find food. Bad food. Be ill. Find food. Sleep. Meet with friends. A film at the Cinema. Food. Holidays abroad by the beach. Have a coffee in a cafe. Travel. Eat. Drink water. Eat processed food. Eat healthy food. Become fat. Become thin. Workout. Find food. Sleep. Meet with parents. Ignore their warnings. Be set free. Explore nature. Forage for food. Eat at a restaurant. Die. Have children. Become a poet. Become a master of your craft. Learn to teach a language. Be the CEO of a company. Own an airline. Run a country. Be apart of history. Export coffee beans. Have a girlfriend. Visit Danny. Die. She dies. Settle down. Become a dad. Die. Sleep. Get a dog. You die. Talk to friends. Talk to Danny. Die. Become an emperor of the galaxy. Die. Nothing matters. Nothing matters. You are only a fragment of the universe. A speckle. A piece of dirt that roams the earth. Until it doesn’t. You will live. Find a oneness with the universe. You will be, until you are not…

This continues for an hour.

This continues for an hour. I think it was an hour. The concept of time was a bit beyond me at that point. Or rather I was a bit beyond it. Time was merely just another reality. Just another point of view. I understood reality. Concepts of time and space no longer seemed so bazaar and far fetched. It was real before my mind journey. But I never connected with it. I watched documentaries about outer space for entertainment, to be educated and amazed. But I never connected with it. My brain had to disconnect this information some how. It had to show me something shiny. I needed to be important. I must matter some how. Objects can travel fast. They fly across entire galaxies at a speeds incomprehensible to our tiny ant brains. Waves in the form of radiation travel past our entire planet in a tiny fraction of a second. I was important. My life and presence had some meaning. But only to me. Could I teleport or consume entire worlds? Particles were travelling hundreds of millions of meters each second. I could expand across the universe never knowing and never thinking. Just being. It was science and it was truth. I was an ant living only to hunt for food. I was nothing. I was everything and I didn’t matter. In a sea of cosmic wonders powerful enough to destroy entire galaxies I was just a mess of atoms trying to find meaning only to ignore the obvious. There was no meaning for me. I was a machine programmed only to live.

I caught a wave and my mind was spiralling. I was thinking in circles that never seemed to end. My only rest being the moments my brain reconstructed itself to regain conscious thought. It was exhausting. Exhausting in a way incredibly difficult to describe. It was not something I could control. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t act. I only had the truth I only had the loop. It was madness and it was honest. It is a spiralling circle of life with no real purpose other than its own repetition. It was evolution at work. A cycle of refinement to build, conquer and destroy.

Death was the only escape. The universe would go on but I would cease to exist. I wanted to exist. I wanted my little life. I wanted this madness to end and to come back. It was scary and terrifyingly real. But this wasn’t a moment of absurdity being caught in a moment of impaired judgement. This was an understanding. I was being shown only truth in this moment. I felt as if I had touched it. This was real and just another point of view. If I didn’t keep control of my mind I was going to become consumed by it. My mind was still fluctuating allowing more developed thoughts to be constructed until I became mere emotion once again. I was going to get sucked into this vortex. I wasn’t going to be able to control my actions. I was an animal, a creature programmed with set instructions. My mind was fractured. It was causing me pain. My life was to live out the rest of this cycle until my brain wasn’t able to process it any longer. I would exist in this world until I found a way to escape. death was the only escape. It was a loop.

I wanted to live. I wanted to think. I found comfort in the fire. I walked to the bathroom. It was difficult to look myself in the mirror. What was I? Who was I? I was a creature in search of comfort and safety no longer a member of a society. I had to go back to the fire. It was safe. It was warm. I had eaten. I would eat again. I had to drink. Then to sleep. Could I sleep? Would I even have been able to close my eyes. Were my eyes closed at that moment? What was I doing? I moved to the bathroom. It was unpleasant. I saw my reflection in the mirror. Who was I? What was I? I had to find comfort. I moved towards the fire. My clothes were drying. I had become wet. I was dry. My clothes would become dry. It was too hot. I was sweating. The bathroom was cooler. There I was again. It was scary. I was scared. I would break free. I would reach normality until I didn’t any longer. I wasn’t thirsty. I wasn’t hungry. I wanted to live. I wanted to think. The fire was warm. The bathroom overpowered me in misery. I was afraid. Move towards the fire. There was a bed but I couldn’t sleep. Could I sleep? Would I be able to close my eyes. What would happen if I closed my eyes? Was I awake now? What was I doing? I needed to escape. What could I do? I was crazy until I was sane. I was an animal until I joined a society. I was on the floor until I stood upright. I was cold until I dried and I was terrified until I wasn’t. I wanted to live. Death was the only escape. The world would continue spinning only until it doesn’t. Forever trapped in a cycle until you break the cycle. We all live in a cycle. A loop. I wanted to exist. I didn’t want to die. I couldn’t live like this. It was an understanding. It was a truth in this moment. In each moment and all the moments. It was everything. My mind had become compromised. My walls of mental protection had collapsed connecting me with the absurd truth of our looping little lives. They had no purpose and death was the only escape. It was a loop and I wanted to live. I wanted to come back and think once more. I found comfort in the fire. I moved to the fire. The front door of the cabin was next to the bathroom. It surrounded itself with negativity. Fire brings positive emotions. Be afraid of the door. It has some negative power. What could it be? Follow your evolution. Be close to the fire. Follow your emotions. Listen to them. I wanted to live. I wanted to think. I walked to the bathroom and looked away. I couldn’t look at my reflection. It was a vortex. A whirlpool that had a magnetic pull. I was spiralling. I didn’t want to get caught. Was I thinking now or was I understanding. Was I clear headed? I was confused. I was hot. Sweaty. Could I sleep it off if I laid down? Should I be afraid of the bed. Would I ever wake up? Was tonight my last moment? I wanted to live. I wanted to think again. I wanted to come back to my little life.

My mind was compromised. I had only truth and it destroyed me. It was evolution working and I had been caught by it. I did this to myself. This was a fun little experiment. A trip to the zoo. Connecting with nature and expanding my mind. I was educating myself for a laugh. For fun. To experience different aspects of life. I had paid for this. I wanted this. How could I have been so stupid? Evolution was at work here. In the same way I eat hot chillies in my meals to burn my mouth, inflame my gums and also my intestines I was toying with the defence system of a different creature. These mushrooms did not want to be eaten. They wanted to live. They wanted to survive. They guarded themselves against the mass murderers foraging amongst the woodland. They needed to deter predators and kill off those brave enough to try it. A mechanism was developed to break down protective barriers inside the brain. It would connect pathways that had no intension on being connected. A mechanism designed to spread panic in both those who consumed them and those who sat idly by to watch. You could get caught by it, forever spiralling down into another cycle of life. It would drive you mad and bring on psychosis. You would become psychotic only being freed by death. Those creatures would die and bystanders would no longer eat this fungus. They would learn and become educated. We humans would evolve into stupidity growing false shields of invincibility allowing us to face death just for a little fun.

This was torture. Absolute torture. My mind allowed thought and then it did not. I fell consumed by the same understandings and simply reacted emotionally. I had no power here. This was torture. I was scared. I was afraid. I was beyond crying and in fact I hadn’t cried once. I was too petrified to react in such physical ways. I was trapped inside my mind. My body didn’t matter. It was neither a tool nor an extension of myself. I was only my mind and I cannot convey the amount of torture I was experiencing. I was being tortured. I was horrified and crazy. I was mad in a horrific place. I couldn’t escape my mind. I thought for a moment and then I didn’t. I understood the reality of mental patients trapped in their own spiralling thoughts. Trapped in a cage and cast aside by society. Leaving them abandoned until only they can find a way to end it all. We offer them no help. We drug them. Pharmaceuticals bring financial rewards and quite the screams of despair. Society can pretend. We can lie to ourselves. These patients are in less pain. They are calm now. But they are not. We drug them for our own peace. To maintain order and stop those behaving differently. It scares us. Keep the crazies calm. Keep them away from us. They are dangerous and we need to be safe.

I had opened the door to insanity and I couldn’t control it. I had moments of escape. Not of clarity but of thought processing. I was allowed to think for small windows at a time. I was riding a wave of mental intelligence and became fearful that I would become trapped never to regain my mental stability again. This was serious. This was no joke or evening party trick. I would never escape this loop. I would never escape these thoughts. I was going to die here.

Please don’t ever be judgemental about people who lost their mind on drugs. I want to tell you this. I need to tell you this. They may have just gone too far experimenting as we ALL do. It is a fun fact that we human beings love our drugs and want them in all shapes and sizes. It could be coffee, cigarettes, chewing gum, candy. Marijuana, a cold beer or even those headache tablets you frequently purchase. When people are in need help them. They are not outsiders easily cast away to pretend they don’t exist. They are not evil beings sent on a mission to lead a criminal life and inflict harm to others. They are your brothers and sisters. Help them. They need your help. Please. Help them.

I needed help. I was terrified of being drawn into this circling whirl pool that was literally absorbing my mind. It was enlightenment that I didn’t want. I wanted my physical body. I was pacing up and down the room like a mad man. I was a mad man. I wasn’t approaching the line that led to madness, I had crossed it. I had been taken to the brink of insanity and took one more step forwards. If I had a pen I would have been scribbling on the walls about circles and how they needed to end. Asking why we were all doing this and that it needed to stop. I needed to come back. Help me. I needed help. I was alone. I had been kneeling by the toilet door on the floor clutching myself, rocking back and forth, moving around and shaking, closing my eyes and also having them open. I was in a state of madness. There was no euphoric feelings here. I was caught in a programmatic loop destined to continue until the power was switched off. It was endless and fast. My god was it fast. There was no time to think (during the times that I was allowed to). The speed was crippling. It was none stop and never ended. I started to spiral even deeper than before.

I was thinking about the lives of human beings specifically. Our evolution into societies and caging ourselves inside our little offices, only to dream of happiness, never achieve it and then die. I thought of these people trying to escape their meaningless lives by using drugs. The same drugs I may have been using. Any one of these people could also be thinking about the lives of human beings and our evolution into societies and caging ourselves inside our little offices, only to dream of happiness, never achieve it and then die. What if these people try to escape their meaningless lives by using drugs. The same drugs that I was using. They too would reach an understanding of the universal truth of the circle of life. They would be thinking of themselves caught in a loop of evolution and building communities to expand. To live. To evolve into office blocks and technology only to dream of breaking free emerging themselves into escapisms and taking drugs. Drugs like the ones I has taken.

I was thinking in loops inside loops and it was too much to process. I felt as if my processor was almost at its maximum and would burn up if left too long. Never have I experienced anything that scared me more in my entire life. I wanted security. I wanted my old life back. I wanted to live but most of all I wanted to think. To be me. To have the evolved state of my brain with all the layers of built up infrastructure required for stable thought. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to lose myself or give in to the only way I could. I wanted to live. I didn’t want to lose myself. I had abused the gift I had been given. I was sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was my fault and my choice. I didn’t want to do any more drugs. I shouldn’t have touched them in the first place. I was sorry. What had I done? What if this absorbs me? What if I get caught in this loop forever? I was caught in it now, only being freed periodically on what people call a wave. They were waves. I could not control them and it was frightening! I was terrified of becoming one of those people who lost there mind. What would I do if this continues? Would I have to kill myself? Of course. What other choice would I have?

I would at this point like to clarify that I was not having suicidal thoughts. I simply knew that it was the only way out of the situation. The loop. There was no escaping it. Not for any of us. We are all trapped in the same repetitive situation. The only thing separating this concept from normality was the speed in which I was thinking. This knowledge was still truth. I was always caught in a loop. I am still at this moment inside the loop. Even by reading this book you are inside your own loop.

WhatsApp Chat — when I was able to think again

The Call

It was a mistake to be alone. I needed help and this was getting serious. I was thinking but not becoming more sober. This trip was hitting me in waves taking me down into the depths of my subconscious relieving me of my own thoughts and then floating me back up for a gasp of watery air. I was not living in hope that I merely had to abide my time. I was living in fear of never popping back up for more air.

Someone had to take care of me. Who could possibly help me? At that precise moment I only thought of Danny. It had to be her. I reached for my phone and hit the floor. I was staring at the blank screen wondering what to do. I needed Danny. But I was embarrassed. I was concerned I might die and yet was embarrassment of calling someone close to me. Even I recognised the absurdity of my predicament. Alongside clearer thoughts had come my emotional boundaries. I was afraid I might appear overly crazy and scare her in an unrecoverable way. I knew I could calm down. I could text her.

Still on my knees with my body clutched together like a turtle I opened my phone and began to find my messages. My movements were slow and precise. I was over thinking every moment and couldn’t decide what to write. It had to be calm and relaxed but convey importance and let her know I needed her. I really needed her. Immediately she sent an emoji and I knew she was there. It was immediate and everything I wanted. I had someone with me. I could call her!

“Oh Danny, I need help. I need you to help me” I nervously said trying to put together the words.

“Whaaat? Matt. Are you ok?”

“Ive taken some mushrooms”

“Where are you?”

“I am in SAN JOSE DE.. PACIFICO”

“Ha ha ha. Matt I didn’t know you were even there. You are on mushrooms?”

“Oh Danny, I don’t wanna know any more about the universe. Ive gone too far. I need help Danny”

“You will be fine. Have you drunk any water?”

“Thats a good idea. I have no water. I have dried banana and I ate a lot of food already”

“I think that its a good idea for you to be sick”

“Thats a great idea. Listen to Danny. Ok I am in the bathroom and I am going to make myself sick”

I was sick in the toilet. I placed two fingers down my oesophagus and left them there until I continuously vomited. It wasn’t uncomfortable and honestly I just didn’t care about pain in that moment. It was life and death and I chose to live. I needed to stay calm and to problem solve. I needed to remove as much mushroom matter as humanly possible from my internal system. There was no choice. It was a good idea. Listen to Danny.

For the next few hours I continued to talk to Danny. She helped to focus my thoughts. She didn’t have to do much except be there. Exist in my world and help carry me over to hers. She was hope that I could survive this nightmare and so much more. She offered practical solutions instead of just comfort. I was vomiting to remove any undigested mushrooms from my stomach. I drank litres of tap water to dilute the affects, fill my stomach and stay hydrated. I ate my remaining food to absorb nutrients and provide energy. We discussed moving towards objects that provided me with comfort and staying away from those that didn’t. I was receiving the help I needed. There was hope.

It took hours for trip to end. Poor Danny was sat on her bed at home, tired and just listened to the ramblings and rants of a madman describing the truth of the universe. But I didn’t care. The more she humoured me, the more I had hope I would survive.

“It was just truth Danny. Thats the scariest part. I knew it already but never connected with it. We are living our lives in circles and it never ends. Only death can stop it. Its.. Death. I’m not saying I was thinking about it. I’m not saying that. Its just. Its the only way to stop it and thats the truth. Its the truth. Isn’t it. It was all truth. I didn’t see anything that was untrue. Everything. Thats the scariest part. Danny. I need it to stop Danny. What if it consumes me and I never come back. I’m not sure I will come back. I’m not sure what I would do”

“Uh huh. Uh huh” she mumbled.

“Ah. I went to far. I should have listened and been more careful. I want to come back Danny. I want to be apart of society again and I want to think. I have this intelligence I want to use it. I need to be a higher functioning being. I think about those people in comas and I get it. I don’t mean I’m a doctor. I just get it. I understand their point of view. It sounds weird but from their point of view. They’re just alive but not even thinking. I don’t want to be like that. Ah my parents. They wouldn’t even know Danny”

“Drink some water”

“Yeah. Thats a good idea. Water is good. Listen to Danny”

Danny was my life preserver. If I wasn’t able to talk to her I’m not sure what would have happened. I was going mad. Insane. I touched the edge of madness and survived. It was a mental state that consumed all of me. It would be foolish to think I had escaped it because I was mentally strong or had superior will power. I was lucky. I had Danny. Take a moment to absorb this information and realise the dark side I had moved into. I was on the brink of psychosis and couldn’t bare the thought of it becoming my permeant reality. I took myself to the very depths of despair and anguish that could have ended my life and I survived it. I came back to society with full use of my higher brain function. I was alive and no longer caught in a loop.

The Sleep

It was 2 am. I cleaned up a small amount of sick from the bathroom. I figured I had earned the right to leave the mess until morning. I also figured it was a symbol. A small gesture representing the closure of the evenings events. I had no more energy for anything except just being. I checked on the fire and saw it was running low on logs. In my state of incomprehensible insanity I had ignored the fire leaving it to burn down to its embers. I took the old metallic bucket from outside that housed the logs and added to the fire. Three medium sized cuttings would keep me warm until daylight. I wasn’t about to sleep any time soon.

I checked my shoes as they nestled in the corner of the fire. They were almost dry and very hot from the flames. If they were still damp and they were 90% dry. My trousers which were still wet, hanging from the dinning table chair. I would regret it in the morning if I they hadn’t dried. Even after all of my experience I cared about being rational. I dragged the chair to wards the bricks until the clothing hung inside the fire place. I still had a mission and purpose to forfill — my clothes needed to be dried. Even in that moment it I found it mind boggling I could behave so normal. It wasn’t rational to suffer through a life changing event only to worry about wet clothes immediately afterwards. My brain had pieced itself back together. I neither knew if I simply had a bad trip or I nearly lost my mind entirely. For me it was real. But I could lie to myself. I regained the ability to build walls around my traumas except this time I understood the necessity of such a lie. I needed to know I was safe and could rejoin my previous life. If it wasn’t as serious as it felt then I would have suffered less trauma. I could lie to myself and later joke about the bad trip I had expanding throughout the universe touching different realities. Perhaps I could even joke about it.

It was 6am and my eyes were becoming tired as I sat in front of the fire. Breakfast was served at 7:30am giving me 1n hour and a half to wait. I would eat the most extravagant meal of my life. But within the confines of the hotel-style inclusive meal I was going to get. Cereal, yogurt, toast, melon, coffee and anything else they ha dot offer. I was going to eat it all. The money didn’t matter. The calories didn’t matter. I was alive and could celebrate my freedom. Treat yourself, I thought. You’ve earned it.

I crawled into bed tired and watched the silent lightening light up the night sky without even a murmur. Only in Mexico have I experienced lightening without thunder. No noise at all. It was beautiful and exactly what I needed to see. A thing of beauty. I laid under the sheet starring over a hundred miles of mountain terrain all glowing in the sky. It was paradise. A perfect moment and I breathed it in. I needed nothing more than just to sit and watch a view taken for granted by so many. This was man and nature coming together in harmony and just for me. I enjoyed this gift I had been given.

I woke up at 930 and headed for breakfast. I was sober now and not tired. I was hungry and wanted to eat my celebratory breakfast. But I wasn’t that hungry when I sat down. I was excited to get a cup of coffee though and had two cups. I ate my plate of melon. I had dry toast with honey and enjoyed a pot of strawberry yogurt. It was all complimentary and included within the $600 pesos I had paid for the cabin. What a joke. I cannot believe I thought twice about this place. The price was a steal and I got more than what I paid for.

I went to the log cabin, cleaned up the toilet, showered and packed my travel bag. It was time to leave. Leaving San Jose was a symbol that it was over. I needed a new chapter to begin. I through away my wet socks which hung on the bathroom partition. After all my efforts I still forgot about the socks. It was a kind of wetness that I just couldn’t bare to place inside either bag. They had to go. I felt bad for adding them to the landfill, but what did it matter?

TimeLine

Smoking 2 puffs of a joint, ready for the bus ride

⬇

The bus

⬇

The cabin

⬇

Smoking 2 more puffs overlooking the mountains

⬇

Get mushrooms

⬇

Walking in torrential rain

⬇

Starting a fire

⬇

1 top of a mushroom

⬇

Shop

⬇

1 top of a mushroom

⬇

Smoking 3 puffs of a joint. I wanted to feel something. A guy came to offer matches for the fire

⬇

1 large top

⬇

Back to Shop

⬇

2 tops fallen to pieces.

⬇

Mirror escapades 1

⬇

Smoking 3 more puffs. This was when the man walked down to the bottom cabin

⬇

2 remaining tops.

⬇

All the 6 stalks.

⬇

Mirror escapades 2. It was something very scary. You could get lost in it

⬇

Smoking a new joint

⬇

The Trip

⬇

Communicating with cells

⬇

Expanding across the universe

⬇

Evolving back to humanoid form again — having thoughts again

⬇

Nothing matters.

⬇

Animal instincts. Protect. Forage. Eat.

⬇

The loop

⬇

Realising I was mad. I wasn’t about to go mad. I was mad.

⬇

Being sorry to my parents for what I had done. Was I going to be a vegetable all of my life?

⬇

All I wanted was Danny in a small and SAFE little life

⬇

I need help

⬇

The phone call

⬇

Being sick, eating bananas, drinking tap water

⬇

Should I call an ambulance? Of course you should. You need to you idiot!

⬇

Danny called back

⬇

Stay inside. Prepare yourself. Stay calm, listen to Danny.

⬇

Sobering up. Laughing a little

⬇

Saying goodnight at 2:30am

⬇

Relighting the fire to dry my trousers

⬇

Getting into bed to relax and sleep at 6ish.

⬇

Watching the lightening with no sound as it lit up the mountains. It was gorgeous and I doubt many people got to see that in their lives.

⬇

Waking up for breakfast at 8:30

⬇

Coffee, strawberry yogurt, two slices of toast with one jam and one honey pot. I then had a fruit plate of gala melon, papaya fruit and watermelon.

⬇

Pack up. Smoke and hit the road into town. Get the f*ck away from here!

The Day After

I strapped my bags to my back and walked 0.3 miles to the village. It wasn’t far. A small taxi sat outside the reception to the cabins but I wanted to walk. I wanted to be alone. I passed a 30ft drop to my right. The fall was only protected by small branches and tress beneath me. If I fell I might not survive and I was cautious. I wondered if it would matter if I I were to fall. I guess I knew it wouldn’t but I wasn’t reborn that morning. I had no life changing epiphanies or fearlessness about me. I was the same. I had a thick head with foggy thoughts. I was confused and unsure what to take away from my experience.

I had absorbed a wealth of information. Most of it I already knew but never connected with it. The experience created a bond. Now I was connected. I had travelled far inside of myself to reveal the universe and with it so many truths. Life is incredible and it doesn’t matter. None of us do. I had found the meaning of life only to discover it had no meaning at all. I educated myself to the point of enlightenment only to find an obvious truth, that we exist only to the same extent of those communities existing inside us. We were them but they were not us. They were themselves and so they existed only as much as the communities that they comprised of and so forth and so on. I existed and I was nothing.

I had wished for answers but never realised I must be careful what I wished for.

Feliz Viaje-Happy Travels spray painted on the walls

A Thank You To Danny

Danny helped me when I was afraid no one would. I cried out for help and she answered my call, offering only kindness and actionable ideas. It was everything I could have asked for and am unimaginably grateful. Her actions were exactly what I had wanted and as I needed. Not just in that life threatening moment but in my 35 years of living it was rare to find a leader who took charge whilst also providing such kindness. To her I was only experiencing a bad trip. It may have even been humorous. I respect that point of view and know she respects mine. For once in my life I wasn’t complaining about the hand I received. I had the help and guidance I asked for.

I cannot thank her enough.

The Mushrooms

My little babies

The chart in a neighbouring cafe

Photos

Don’t ever do it alone-it’s just a mistake!

The Conclusion

Hallucinogenic drugs are powerful and can make you become psychotic depending on the dose and the drug.

Be careful what you wish for.

Realities exist. They’re just a mental re-construction of percieved events. Everything can be stripped down to different points of view.

Even with the progression of our species we are still animals searching for food, warmth and security. It will always boil back down to this.

I understand the feeling that will present itself at my moment of death and so understand more than ever the need to focus on my own life. My own point of view. I cannot escape the universe. I will be apart of it soon. All the negativity and frustration just doesn’t matter. I nearly died and one day I will.

Don’t be too scared when you are dying. You won’t be able to process thought in the same way you are now. Your lights will no doubt extinguish until you are one with what surrounds you. Then it will flicker out of existence.

Seeking enlightenment is a positive goal but be careful what you wish for. Being at one with the universe means no longer being one with yourself.

Enjoy it, its all that matters.

Thoughts are a powerful tool and I have found out that they can consume you without your control.

Physcotic doesn’t mean evil. It is a cry for help.

I understand why people end their own lives and what it means to say it is the only way out.

Human beings enjoy drugs.

Being cast out of society is inhumane. Societies breed a lack of kindness, celebrate exclusion and distance themselves from foreign points of view.

Rehabilitation.

Not punishment nor exclusion.

Nothing Matters.