8 Grams of Psilocybin

“I thought I might open a few new doors, maybe crack the windows. I did not expect the entire house to fall down. Suddenly my framework for making sense of reality had vanished, and I was met with a sense of noetic understanding that there is so much more happening, in any and every moment, than we could ever comprehend .”

This is the short version, the notes-I-could-expound-on-forever version.

Yes, I realize that the short version is still a wall of text.

I took 4 liquid vials of the active psychedelic component of psilocybin mushrooms. If you’re familiar with this type of fungi, it was equivalent to 8 grams of dried psilocybin mushrooms. Otherwise known as a “Hero’s Dose” and a little extra to ensure it had the intended effect. It did.

3 vials or 6 grams would have been the dose equivalent to what has been used in much of the more recent psychedelic research at John’s Hopkins. The experiments I referenced for my own “trip” were those that led to the most profound spiritual experiences for many participants. I even went so far as to try and replicate the playlist, but I stopped the music a few hours in when Isaac came over – I’ll get to that.

Why did I want to take a bunch of psychedelic mushrooms and explore my consciousness on that Friday afternoon? There wasn’t a particular reason outside of curiosity, and it just felt like the right time.

More reasoning: I was too tired to go about working in the way I had planned for the day, and I had just connected with a friend the previous evening who eased my anxieties about using plant medicines. I hadn’t told him my intention for the next day, I didn’t actually have the trip planned at the time, but as I reflected on my conversation with Chris - it felt incredibly serendipitous to have a bunch of psilocybin at my disposal and a free Friday afternoon. Chris is a chiropractor by profession with a passion for helping others address their pain. When he’s not doing that through physical manipulation to release muscle adhesion, sprains and strains: Chris leads ceremonial psychedelic experiences to help individuals address their other friend l forms of pain.

There may have been a few more influences to what may seem like an impulsive decision, but they all culminated into the realization that I trusted my intentions, I trusted myself, and I trusted that there would be no panacea. I would still be coming back to my day to day habits and characteristics later that evening…but perhaps a bit differently.

Of course, I wanted to heal myself, in many ways, along with whatever goodness could come from the experience. I also wanted the experience to benefit those close to me and those I love. My father stood out the most, a man with similar interests in exploring spirituality and consciousness, and someone that has, and will always have a significant impact on my life.

Before I downed the first vial. I called my good friend Isaac, an all-around good dude and relatively experienced psychonaut. I asked him if he had the afternoon free – and if he wouldn’t mind checking on me. I relayed that I knew I would be fine, but I just wanted him to stop by to ensure. He would be welcome to stay, but I was going to do some deep work that afternoon and was going to keep the company limited to him and me. I also decided to keep my plans to he and I, because although I wanted to tell many friends that I was planning an amazing experience, I knew that many of them would worry, and I didn’t want to tempt a big swing of guilt, so I decided to keep the sharing to post-tripping, and go into the experience with a reminder of just how lucky I am to have so many people that genuinely care about me.

Isaac agreed, with full support of my intentions for the afternoon. And before he hung up, he said, “yeah man, I’ll be there no problem. Love you dude.” Isaac and I don’t routinely tell each other that we love one another, so this meant a lot to me. The words went a long way in creating a secure set and setting and I believe Isaac knew that when he said it; it was his way of ensuring he could send his best energy to assist in my journey.

We hung up. I took the vials. Three at first. With my body weight, this would put me right around the amount the participants in one of PhD. Roland Griffiths' earlier studies at Johns Hopkins took to elicit mystical experiences. I waited a few minutes, routinely checking my inner-chatter and visceral sensations to see if anything was changing. I thought of how funny it was (and is) that I have such impatient characteristics and difficulty with delayed gratification. As the minutes kept passing and I kept waiting for the effects to present themselves, I remembered stories of monks who had taken high doses of psychedelics and seemingly had nothing happen. I’m sure these came to mind, because I, just as most anyone who ingests psychedelics, began to experience a bit of anxiety about the psilocybin working. I took another vial to ensure I was in Hero dose territory, then immediately lambasted myself for being so impulsive and irresponsible and hoped that I hadn’t made a terrible mistake. Impulsive? Yes. Irresponsible? I don’t really think so. Mistake? Not in the least.

Around the 20 minute mark, I began to feel the medicine take hold. I began having insights and making connections that led me to think, “when I tell my friends about these later…I’m going to sound like a really good guy.” This pretending or feeling as if I’m an imposter/fake/etc. is something that I’ve been working on for some time now, and I do realize how the imposter syndrome hits just about everyone from time to time. But this time, the experience hit me differently. Why the disconnect? Why “sound like?” why not just realize that I am a good guy (whatever this day-to-day Roddy is). I am just a good guy. I am a good guy for everything that I like about myself and everything that I don’t. I am a good guy for times past that I’m proud of, just as well as the instances I’ve felt shame for. I’m human. I do my best. Whatever “I” am.

So this is where one of the first, lasting, shifts in perspective came about. I was met with nearly overwhelming feelings of gratitude for this experience of self-compassion and acceptance. The experience is key. I had known the conceptual framework of self-forgiveness, compassion and all else, but I had never felt it. Not like this.

I knew then and I know now, that I so, so badly (or is it goodly?) want this experience, these feelings for others as well. My father came to mind first. I hit the parental lottery to be raised by such a man, but he is a human as well. Over the years I’ve come to realize his self-deprecating humor, though often in jest, stems from an inner-critic that is far less comical. I want him to know that he is a good man, he’s an incredible person – my thoughts move to others, like Isaac, Michael R. (who has had many discussions with me about that inner-critic), Joe A., Jim E, so many people that have had such a profound impact in my life. They’re not good people because of their titles, accomplishments, looks, physical prowess, etc. (though many are very impressive in such regards), but they’re good people because they’re good people. They don’t have to do anything to be loved, they are just loved.

So already – I’m coming to realizations that I’ve already “known” on a conceptual level, but these are exceptional reminders, and the experiential understanding is locking them in more concretely. I (and many others) have mentioned that the most important aspects of any of these experiences are unveiling what is already there, it’s much more an uncovering than a finding. There are creations from the new connections realized, but the substance has been there from the start.

I’m crying hard now, and mucus is all over the place. There is a growing bed of research showing that psilocybin can be helpful for migraine headaches…my anecdotal experience shows that it may be helpful with sinus headaches as well. This cathartic sobbing was doing more than a neti-pot or any over-the-counter expectorant ever had. I was crying hard, and it felt incredible.

I want my dad to be able to cry – if it feels right for him. I want him to be able to experience the cathartic outlet and elated tears that I have come to experience many times over the years - not just during such impactful mind-journeying.

The trip is still coming on stronger, but I’m not regretting my decision to take the 4th vial. I am also aware now that I must look like quite a mess - and Isaac hasn’t stopped over yet. Speaking feels like it will take too much effort, my mind wants to do it, but my body does not. I don’t know if this is going to get heavier, or how incapacitated I may be when he shows up. I don’t want to frighten him by appearing so out of sorts. So I started to think about making a sign for Isaac when he stops over. “Whatever it looks like, I promise you that I’m okay…and I love you.”

After seemingly way too much thought put into what to do next, I settle on sending a text. I had already propped the apartment building door open for him so that he would be able to come upstairs. “Hey man, the trip is starting to get pretty heavy, not sure how out of it I’ll be, but I promise you that I’m good and I love you.”

I laid back down on the couch, the playlist is still going and I’m seeing a few fractals of neon lights on the ceiling – the sunset outside is incredibly vibrant (here again – the things that are already here are much more pronounced). I hear a knocking at my back window, not my door. My back window. It’s Isaac, his phone had shut off while he was riding his bike so he climbed up the fire escape to get in. I was happy to see him and surprised by how functional I could be when I needed to – i.e. opening the window and forming words.

I was feeling tired, and pretty out of it. I don’t know how many times I tried to check with him and tell him that I was completely fine to handle myself, and I wanted him to enjoy his afternoon/evening however he pleased. He did not need to feel obligated to take care of me, but if he wanted to hang-out he was more than welcome…he would just really, really, really need to make himself at home because I wasn’t going to be much of a host. I did this repeatedly for the next 20 minutes or so while going in and out of the conversation. What I mean by that is in and out of the ability or desire to have a conversation. There were several times during that hour where “I” questioned what “I” was, and was very much doing that deep psychonaut exploration of our being, and what I often hear referred to as “gone”. I was gone, but not really. My physical body didn’t move from the couch. The rest of it was a mix of memories, realization, beautiful visuals, and incredible feelings.

I became aware of how grateful I was for Isaac to be there. More than most friends. Not just on account of how close we are and how much I trust him, but because he’s been/done similar things before – he was understanding of my intermittent participation in our conversation and the crying and all else. He was the epitome of a good-sitter, and I hope to pay that forward many times over.

At some point I thought about how little we (people) know of anything – we’re just humans, we don’t know where anything is going, which always brings up that question of “well then, what’s the point?” I suppose there isn’t one, aside from if we’re going to spend this much time in a seemingly similar day-to-day reality, we might as well do what we think is right. Do good. Help people. Love.

I’m sharing all of this with Isaac, but coming in and out. I reassure him again to help himself to anything (except the sushi in the fridge that I’ll be getting to later). My body still feels horrible, not from the psilocybin, I’ve been tired and drained all week – and little sleep + allergies and I’m sure a few other things have gotten me to a state of head and backaches that I haven’t felt in a while. And in having them, and just letting them be, and “giving up” on trying to get them to feel any other way – I experience joy. The type of joy that Ezra Bayda and Charlotte Joko-Beck allude to when they say you can experience Joy even with unpleasant sensations. So my body hurt, my mind was quite pleasant. “Let life live through you” and “say yes” were two mantras that I had recently taken from a guided meditation from Tara Brach. This was a time to do it.

Here again – I have the experiential realization of things that I’ve “known” or “heard” without the assistance of plant medicine. But now I’m feeling these sentiments, experiencing them fully.

Another wave of gratitude. I realize how fortunate I am to have so many people and influences in my life to allow me to know so many of these things to begin with; the ability to make these connections – and I’m sure that it’s not the same for everyone else, but there tend to be some common themes.

These are amazing plant medicines, but nothing is a Panacea. Miraculous changes can come from these experiences, but life will always bring inevitable tough times. Nothing “does the work” for you, but I do believe that psilocybin and psychedelics are a profound tool that can help you see what work needs to be done…and perhaps more importantly: what does not need to be done.

We, you, I – don’t need to do anything to be loved. You’re just loved. And love is more powerful than anything else.

Here again, I’m reminded of Michael Pollan’s recent work “How to Change Your Mind” where he mentions that so often individuals come out of these experiences with “duh” moments. Like “love is more powerful than anything” may seem like a banal platitude on most days, but to experience such sentiments allows them to set in another way.

I did some very deep work – I talked with Isaac about a few issues that I had been working on for years. How powerful words are, and how we need to use them carefully. How I used them as weapons in my youth and I don’t want to make those same mistakes now. To forgive myself for the harm I’ve caused to others and to myself (which conjures the memory of learning loving-kindness meditations from Elizabeth Hamilton) and to offer others the same opportunity.

Even the ways we’ve hurt one another have brought silver linings and opportunities for growth. We’re all part of all of it. Whatever it is. You just do your best and carry good intentions. We’re all part of each other: when you’re thanking that friend for being such an amazing person, they are what they are because you are what you are.

Throughout the experience I caught myself fretting about these intensely joyful feelings subsiding at some point, but I didn’t fret too far before realizing they had to if I wanted to experience them at all. There’s no up without down, black without white, and everything comes and goes. These feelings would come again. These opportunities for seismic shifts to habitual, often rigid patterns would be there too and by many means. There are so many ways up the mountain and it’s not a competition.

It’s not a competition. And I have more than I could ever need. Give, Love, Love, Love.