The Mushroom Prophecy

In my early teens, I had a premonition:

“The rest of my life is waiting on the other side of a mushroom trip.”

Which was an insane belief for a boy with but four moustache hairs.

(And a false one. Mostly.)

Falseness aside, that belief tipped me down the rabbit hole.

Like the felines I love so dearly, curiosity drove me:

To learn about the medicinal uses of magic mushrooms. To a drug dealer who took my money and scrammed. To a friend who found me the mushroom-infused chocolate that finally began what’s become a decade-long journey of exploration.

(Kayla, if you happen to see this, thank you for the gift never forgotten.)

For years, I tried to force that life-altering trip into existence. Different strains. Bigger doses. “If I just intention harder, surely it’ll happen,” I foolishly thought. I wanted the result I knew was possible, but I didn’t yet understand the journey I was on.

So I didn’t make much progress. I wasn’t getting closer to who I wanted to be. Who I knew in my bones I could become. I’m ready for the rest of my life goddamnit!

I kept trying. I kept pushing. I kept urging the mushrooms along. 

I probably even begged.

Eventually, they pushed back.

I remember rage like I’d never felt before. I remember a toxic brown sludge moving through my body. I remember tearing out my hair while kneeling in the moonlight.

For the next two years, the thought of doing mushrooms would trigger an immediate swelling of nope that would flood my body. I’d touched and stirred feelings and truths I didn’t then have the understanding or ability to process.

I’d kicked up lots of silt that needed time to settle.

When I did return to the mushroom realm, I kept the dose tame and vibe playful. I knew if I was ever to touch the therapeutic power of larger doses again, I needed to remember that I could have fun first. For a year, this was my approach.

Then I returned to plumbing the depths of my consciousness.

First, with a guide, to rebuild my belief in guiding myself through the chaos, safely. 

Then again, again, and again on my own.

That’s when the mushroom spirits really began showing up for me.

That’s when I realized “the rest of my life” was never waiting on the other side of a single, almighty grand reshaping of a mushroom trip.

Rather, each trip loosens a velvety ribbon or two, each with its own one-of-a-kind hue. 

Integrate those ribbons, and your life reshapes. Let them lie, and nothing changes. 

(Mostly.)

Now know that you don’t need to eat mushrooms to unfurl yourself. 

They are teachers, as many things can be.

Always though, you’re both the student and the lesson.

Even if the finest teacher can do you little if you refuse to ask.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander

P.S. One day I swear I’ll give you and The Velvet Telegram a proper introduction. For now though, just know that I sent The To-Do List-Less Life yesterday.