I hold plant medicine in very high regard ...

… especially mushrooms. And especially in a large enough dose that I surrender fully to their medicinal effects — whatever those may be on a particular journey.

No two journeys are ever the same, but they’re all brilliantly intense. Never more than I can handle, but not what I’d call a joy ride either.

I value how the medicine takes me to the edge of my edge on an inward spiral, and then outward and beyond, until the journeyer is no longer “me” but instead a sort of Essence that feels like pure consciousness.

This is where Union with All That Is — including with this journeyer — rests.

Each of my journeys — and those I’ve guided for others — seem to follow a roughly similar trajectory, supported — and possibly enhanced — by the music in the playlist.

When the medicine — the Penis Envy variant of psilocybin, in my case — comes on, it tends to hit like the proverbial ton of bricks and I have to lie down immediately. No choice, really, as my limbs barely function. I typically notice that my teeth and gums feel odd and I may feel a bit of nausea. This passes.

Typically but not always, I next feel as though I’m dissolving into a field that contains and consists of all my fellow humans, complete with their cruelty and misery and suffering. At this point, I may be in a fetal position, sobbing. This passes as well.

Next might come a dark, murky visual field behind my eyeshade that resembles mud, accompanied by a sense that I’m dying. This used to scare me, but now I recognize the dying as a disruptions of patterns that have become deep ruts and an opportunity for pruning away what no longer serves.

Now the beautiful visuals begin — gorgeous geometric designs that shift and undulate in an ever-fascinating kaleidoscopic manner. Coincidentally with the beauty show, I usually begin to feel very cold — a deep chill that can be relieved only by soaking in a hot bath or by having warm bean bags or water bottles piled on my body and topped with blankets. It’s annoying, but it seems to be part of the process for this skinny body. Those of you with more insulation may be able to skip this part. And this part passes too, but it takes a while.

By now, the music has reached an intensity — think primal drumming — that encourages movement, imagery, emotion, vocalization, spontaneous breath work, sexuality, and whatever other manner of impression or expression is of the moment. The medicine and the music seem to conspire here. My ego is offline and has no real say in the matter.

Yet — and this is important to understand — if there is an issue that requires my sober intention such as a pet demanding to be let out or an urgent need to pee, I have always been able to attend to it. I can even operate my phone to send or receive a text, or to skip or repeat a song on my playlist, or to summon my guide to ask for tea or a smoothie. I can rally to meet the moment, but my preference is to stay in surrender.

Next may come what feels most to me like the “work” of the medicine. Memories may come up for processing and, potentially, for healing. Surreal visions may appear as in a dream state. There may be an enhanced awareness of — and appreciation for — the beloveds in my life and our connection.

In one of my most powerful and ecstatic experiences, “I” hovered above as a pride of lions tore apart and thoroughly enjoyed feasting on “my” body. In another experience, I removed my eyeshade for a moment to behold my friend who was ‘shroom sitting me as a splendid and benevolent priestess. Another time, I texted my partner to come join me in my bed RIGHT NOW for the most raw and instinctually primitive sex I’ve had in my 50-odd years of lovemaking.

I am grateful for these insights and experiences. I consider them gifts of the medicine that are specific for the Essence living this life through my body and psyche — a beautiful mystery that is available in partnership with a sacred plant.

The final hours of a journey tend to be — for me and others I’ve guided — sweet and nurturing and even blissful. Typically there is a sense of happy exhaustion, gratitude, and awe. It’s a good time — if there is energy available for it — to talk about what happened or to write in a journal or to make art. Or maybe just to savor a bowl of blueberries while sitting outside watching the sunset.

I like to take the following day or two off, as I recognize this time as valuable for recalling, pondering, and assimilating what has transpired. If possible, I like to share my experience with a friend, as describing it helps me to better recall, ponder, and assimilate. Among the many new awarenesses and insights and connectivity I typically have gained, a takeaway I often experience is a renewed and upgraded sense of wellbeing and of trust in the goodness of Life and of myself.

In my view, these outcomes are worth the intensity of riding the journey’s waves and the sacrifice of a couple days’ productivity.

This has been my quarterly practice for 15 years.