Each time, the trip starts the same. I’m uncomfortably reminded of previous trips that were so emotionally painful I promised myself never to subject myself to such a miserable experience. Yet the blossoming catharsis which eventually provides a heart-opening during a trip always trumps the initial, harrowing negativity. So I just keep coming back. And this time was no different.
I was cocooned at a secluded cabin in northern Minnesota with a good friend. It was winter, so quiet, and while the rustic cabin was heated by a wood-burning stove, the amenities were few. There was an outdoor sauna that takes about 6 hours to heat, and she was roaring- we were ready to come down in her warmth.
We had set our intentions beforehand and my friend, wisely, welcomed any spirits (living or past) to join us, as long as they meant no harm. We ingested 5 grams of an unknown strain of magic mushroom. We situated ourselves. We anticipated.
My last trip had been a mind-boggling ayahuasca adventure 12 months earlier and I was anticipating a revisiting of what, I felt, had been left unattended. Namely, I had come to deeply understand the river of pain which flows beneath us all throughout our lives. I had been forced to immerse myself in that river, only to find that my buoyancy was my salvation. It took four hours of petrifying fear to enter the waters, yet once I did, the waters lifted me, and love kept me afloat. I walked out of that river restored, and hopeful, and exhausted.
This time, in the Northwoods cabin, nausea came quick. I went outside to catch my breath. The trees were swaying~ birch trees white as bones rising from the earth danced in front of me, but quickly turned menacing. I was reminded that we are always alone on our trips. My blood was cold. I wished I hadn’t chosen to take this voyage. Yet I knew there was no turning back.
And when I walked back into the cabin, I found that my friend was feeling no effect from her same dose, which ignited even more panic. I was seriously going to be solo on this trip? I felt like she was going to have to carry me, to deal with me. I felt like a burden (which was a frequent childhood trauma for me). I felt a heavy weight, and since I’ve always felt responsible for others, my shame was crushing. I desperately wanted to turn the trip off.
Luckily, my senses provided relief. A few books along the wall decided to do a little jig. They began throwing themselves off their sturdy shelf and I, with my newfound magic mushroom power, managed to manipulate them back onto the shelf with only my mind. I casually asked my friend if she, too, was noticing the books jumping off the shelf. When she said no, I knew that this adventure was going to be one I would take alone. Damn.
Intuition is an extraordinary thing. And one of the beautiful majesties of taking a trip is that one can tap into our ever-present reserves we so often deny ourselves. It’s near impossible not to give over when the urge is so great. And so I did. My twisting, angsty stomach and brain full of ego simply said “let go.” I bent at my waist, on my knees, my arms extended in front of me as if in prayer. And I let go.
And once one decides to extricate themselves from the bonds of their mind and ego~ that is the beginning. Such it was for me, as I immediately entered a lush green (miniature) forest of my own imaginings. I wandered among the moss-covered forest floor and peered into tree holes. I felt like a gnome and the giggles came fast. I pointed out to my friend that I was now “in the forest” and stretched out in front of the stove.
The shift in position transferred me to another realm. I was floating on a river in a glass-enclosed conservatory. The angst returned– I could see flying creatures attempting to access the high glass ceiling. Below me, sea monsters roiled the water. I notified my friend that danger was among us, then realized that all I had to do was remove the fear and see them not as threats, but as welcoming spirits.
Which changed the landscape yet again. Many of my trips are like this- a leveling up to anxiety and a gentle reminder that there is no reason to be scared. OR I allow myself to experience panic and experience solace and relief once I recognize that the fear is unneeded and I can put it down.
Over the next few hours, I visited my female ancestors who appeared as white moths in a cavernous chamber. I asked for healing and was provided a needle and thread to sew up the wounds I was feeling throughout my body. My ancestors asked for healing from me too, and I turned my now-stronger body towards them to care for them. I was visited by my grandmother- a gruff woman I never felt very close to- only to realize that I had to transform her into a honeybee in order for us to connect. I laughed hysterically as I was reminded- over and over- that my strength comes from connection and runs deep in my bones. And the earth.
Psychedelic experiences, by their nature, are noetic and this was no different. Yet what’s been most helpful is how I can reach back to an experience that occurred more than a year ago and access the same healing energy which was offered up to me by the mushrooms. My self-healing (identifying and closing my own wounds) and being embraced by my female ancestors have provided me imagery to reach back to when I need it most. My friend provided comfort and guidance throughout~ and I think she had a pretty fun time with my nonsensical, rambling wandering throughout the experience! We ended up the evening in the sauna- exhausted. blissed out, and so grateful that magic mushrooms exist in this world.
