Yesterday I ate a small half of a cap of Ghost strain of Psilocybe Cubensis. To say that it’s strong is an understatement. I really didn’t think I consumed that much of it, though I didn’t weigh it, it could only have been a gram or two at most. It was small and light.

It came on slow. Confusion, wiggling vision, color saturation and hue pulsating and morphing. I thought the initial intensity would be an indicator of what I was in for. It was not. Not by a long shot. Shortly after that, I found myself needing to lay down. I was fully incapacitated, staring at god only knows, drooling, incomprehensible. I was rendered immobile. I did try and get back on top of the mushroom, but it quickly asserted it’s dominance and threw me back down on the bed like a limp ragdoll. It was interesting, to say the least.

I did worry how long it would last, given the intensity. I had concerns that this could be my new reality now. It wasn’t, to say the least, but I had a distinctly odd feeling when the fog began to clear slightly. I was still tripping balls, but at some point I began “putting the pieces back together”. It felt as though I had to relearn to walk. I had to relearn to form sentences. I could almost feel my brain reaching into itself for the old connections that had been established prior, like a frustrated phone operator in the 1920’s dealing with a fully lit up switchboard, unplugging and plugging wires as quickly and efficiently as possible but in more than a few cases missing the mark completely.

I hear that’s the actual medicinal benefit of psychedelic mushrooms. I’ve read that it’s the “unwiring of established pathways” that allows the brain to lift itself off of it’s previously worn grooves and carve a new path to become something better. Something that isn’t as depressed or world-weary. Something less jaded. Something more hopeful. I chase this dream every time, and every time I’m granted this dream for a span of a few months before it feels like too much of a burden again.

Truthfully, I feel like a million dollars today. I feel as though life bears no challenges I can’t meet or exceed, if they’re challenges I see fit in engaging. I feel like a new person. I feel like someone capable of doing more than I had been previously. It really is like a death and rebirth. Like tapping into some vast eternal wellspring from whence all consciousness emerges, sifting out more positive energy and relinquishing the negative.

I don’t know how long I can keep this up, though. At some point my desire to put up with tripping balls four times a year will diminish to zero. I still will never take any drug that makes me numb. I hate feeling numb more than I hate being depressed. Why live if you feel nothing, not the good, or the bad? It’s not living at that point.

I’m so physically exhausted though. Emotionally I feel entirely rejuvenated, but physically I feel as though I lost a cage match.