The Mushroom Diaries - vol. 8

 Readjust, realign, reset, whatever i call it it's basically the same thing and since we're all staring down the last week of the regular abnormal before what could possibly be the grand poobah shit show of abnormal i thought it might be a good time to put things in perspective, the short version, it was time for another dose of magic to help with the calm and clarity that will be needed over the next week or so. That said. I already voted so on that day i don't have to worry about the shenanigans that may take place... but back to the trip.

The beauty of the fungus is that it gives one the ability to travel through space, time and mind. As usual this one took place on my couch, i did my usual watching of videos on the tube while i waited for them to kick in, filled up two large water bottles to keep myself hydrated on my inner journey, took a hit from the pen containing a strain called Lucky Charms and sat back and waited for the sun as they say. Then as the sun began to rise (in my mind that is) i turned off the lights and sat back to the lovely glow of the telly, not that i was watching but when not looking at it the box throws some lovely shapes and hues onto the far wall. I laid there and felt the twitching synapses and stretching muscles, the sound of my breathing at times startling due to the fact that i was lost in thought about any number of things, any number of former lovers, any number of former places lived, days and nights spent in different parts of the world, and then it really started to kick and i drifted in and out of thoughts that i'm not sure how to put into words, images and feelings and sometimes this profound sense of lovely nothingness which gets me thinking/not thinking about non-existence and wondering if this is what it might feel like and if it is it's not so bad, in fact it's a feeling of peace and beauty that on coming out of can make one think that there might be something to all this hell on Earth bollocks if one buys that line of thought... but then one hears the wind outside and sees the moon shining through a crack in the shade and the faces of my sons and father drift in and fucking hell if there isn't an overwhelming sense of joy and happiness and realizing the that through these little excursions that one can sense both and understand the cosmic accident that is oneself...  or in other words, the world is a beautiful place and i am no longer afraid to die (an actual band name from a band i've never listened to), that the though i can't be sure what's next sometimes i feel as if i've gotten an idea. 

It was during this time that an old record popped up in my mind, a record i hadn't listened to straight through in some time and so through the advent of technology i dialed it up on the telly so that i could sit back and listen to it. A record with a brilliant cover that i gazed at for some time taking in all the things i'd never seen or forgotten i had. The record is Ritual de lo Habitual by Jane's Addiction and though it was the last time this band ever created something i enjoyed and for lack of a better word loved what they created in my mind was a masterpiece, a work of art worthy of being held up and studied and digested and cherished. The second side or last four songs, are almost like a suite, they fit together perfectly, they are movements that reflect life and the pain and beauty that reside within that realm. And so i sat back and listened...

And what did hear? i heard everything, i heard notes and phrases and sounds that i had never heard before because unlike in my youth, when i often listened to this record tripping my face off and naked with a girl i wasn't wrapped up in something else, it wasn't just cool background music to fuck to or air guitar away at late into the night and next morning, this night it was something else entirely and as i sat there listening it dawned on me that this was my equivalent to a modern day symphony, a piece of music that brought out the passions and emotions of existence, that laid them bare and left this listener to get out of it what he wanted or needed. It was what beautiful art can do to a soul, it can cause one to think about things and work towards a deeper understanding of their existence. Sound to deep for a rock and roll record? I'd disagree, namely because i wouldn't call it that, i'd just call it music and while that music might not speak to everyone it spoke to me because that piece of music and i were of the same place and time while the themes and ideas discussed by that piece were timeless, hell we're all timeless, we're here and then we're gone but are we really ever either? 

And so it goes... if you'd have told me that sometime in my late 40's that i'd experience some sort of psychedelic renaissance i don't necessarily think i'd have laughed, psychedelics have always been my favorite when it comes to altering the perceptions and it was a bit of karmic luck that i happened to strike up a conversation with the twenty-something lifeguard at the pool, who then just happened to have a connection and being new to the realm of psychedelics asked the old head (me) about them, what i thought, what dose to take. From there it was all a matter of time and when given access to them i took full advantage, stocking up so that i didn't have to worry about running out. These days i think about doing some reading and taking my own spore prints and giving the grow process a try.
We'll see. I'm inherently lazy and when it's easier to make a call and grab an ounce it tends to put all my grandiose plans on the back burner. That said i don't plan to stop. And while i've taken a more philosophical/spiritual approach to the taking of these gorgeous bits of fungi i do look forward to the day when i can hop a train and head down to the North Shore and see the Lips or Father John Misty again. Until then it will be the inner journey out. Just me and my cats and the sound of one hand clapping.