Mushroom madness, people. It?s a thing.
(Photo by Isi Parente)
Despite their allure, I?ve avoided trying shrooms because I?ve always felt like I was a bad trip waiting to happen. My ex actually told me this at one point, but now, after having tried them, I?m raising a big middle finger in his name because you know what, buddy? I tripped on shrooms and it was fucking awesome.
It felt like my own private comedy show to myself. It felt like I had so many brilliant thoughts racing through my mind it was all I could do to fervently write them down.
I wrote and wrote and wrote. I wrote so much that towards the end of my trip I noticed I had ink all over myself and jotted down in my journal:
Why do I have ink all over my hands and clothes? Oh, IDK, Jord, maybe because you?ve been writing for hours on end. Shrooms madness, people. It?s a thing.
I can?t make this shit up, but in case you really don?t believe me, I?ve thrown in some photos of my actual journal because Shrooms Jord, in all her glory, thought one step ahead:
I was constantly giggling as I documented my inner experience, and as I?m reading through my journals now I am still cracking up. Thank you, Shrooms Jord, for sharing this information with me.
I hope this shit is good for you all.
I decided that for my first trip I wanted to it be in a place I felt safe in with someone safe and sober. So I hit up my shaman friend who I?ve been doing work with for a couple years at this point, and asked if she would guide me in my shrooms journey at her place of residence that has an amazing little shed and outdoor space.
So this is what we did. We set a date and as it grew closer I asked her when she wanted to start the ceremony to which she said, ?How?s about 9am??
Bright and early it is. Gives a whole new meaning to ?wake and bake? and I am here for it.
So I woke up and drove to her place where she?d set up the shed and outdoor space nicely for me. I did some intention setting and she did some drumming and I set up my little alter thing and then I was ready to drink the magic tea she made for me which was ginger mixed with four grams of dried mushrooms.
Four grams is quite a bit for my first dose, with 5?6 grams being considered a ?hero?s? dose. Leave it to me to go hard my first time, because she mentioned that she had another gram on the ready to be chewed up if I decided I wanted it. I had no idea how I was going to feel after 4 grams but something in me knew I was going to end up eating that fifth gram.
Go big or go big.
I drank my tea and just laid down while she played some music that she said was, ?welcoming in the medicine.?
The first thing to hit me was nausea. But it was like a weird sort of nausea. Like it wasn?t really stomach nausea, it was the nausea in my throat where my throat was feeling all closey-inny and I was salivating like I was preparing to throw up. My stomach didn?t feel great, per se, but the sensation in my throat was definitely the worst.
Then a vision popped into my mind. I am prone to visions even in my ?right? mind, so I wasn?t sure if this was the shrooms or just my regular weird mind, but I saw myself walking down a dark alley in some unknown city, following vague directions to a hole-in-the-wall in the industrial district. No lights anywhere, just two large black doors.
Then a super creepy dude peeled the doors open from the inside, his creepy pale face and sunken eyes framed by a riotous carnival scene behind him. His lips curled into a smile that reminded me of The Grinch and he said,
?Welcome to Shrooms.?
He stepped to the side and outstretched his arm behind him as a gesture I was welcome to enter. I didn?t hesitate. It was just kicking in, and already it was a fucking party.
I felt like I was in the prohibition era and had just been let into a secret underground party full of debauchery and broken glass, but you know, in like a good way.
I felt like Pinnochio on Pleasure Island except I was intent on staying for as long as I possibly could. This place was awesome.
Then began the incessant urge to write and document my experience.
I grabbed my pen and journal and began to write?
?You are part of a collective experience right now. Welcome to the land of plant medicine.
So many have gone before you. So many will come after you. So many are here with you now.
You are in a cohort of warriors. Hand picked. Tailor made. For this moment.
Ya?ll gon? do some crazy shit. That?s all I?m sayin?.
And you?re in good company with tender warriors.?
But I?m so weird I would write this shit totally sober so I wasn?t quite sure if the shrooms had really kicked in yet.
I continued to write a bit more about how this experience was all about finding ?my secret sauce? and how I felt like ?this is the medicine of the shrooms speaking through me? and ?I was taking this as far as I can go and I fucking know it? and how funny it was that ?the shrooms speaking through me still said fuck a lot? but then I concluded,
?Well, of course they say fuck a lot, that?s probably the first thing they say when they wake up in the morning.?
And then the words I was writing down started to dance on the page. I was mesmerized at how 3-D everything began to look and I imagined this must be what it is like in Harry Potter when the pictures in the newspaper move.
The shrooms were definitely kicking in at this point (lol) but I still felt so aware. I felt like being this high felt like my natural state ? something about being so goofy and silly. But I made it clear:
?I mean I?m still a goddamned warrior. Just a silly one.?
You goddamned right, Shrooms Jord. You are definitely a silly warrior.
Then I paused for a deeply reflective moment, taking the end of the pen between my teeth, contemplating my complex experience. Then I bent back down into my journal, concluding,
?So far this is like weed, but the words dance.?
I?m not sure how much time had passed at this point, maybe an hour? But this is when I had that last gram of shrooms in my sights, writing down in my journal, ?I think I need more.?
My shaman reported to me after that I had been sucked in to my journal for this entire hour and then all of a sudden I lifted my head up like I was emerging from some very important work, my hair windswept, falling across my face and body, and I spoke like an aristocrat declaring, ?I am ready for more.?
She said okay and placed the bowl of dried shrooms in front of me to much on. And I chowed down, you guys. Halfway through she was like, ?You might want to eat it all, you might not. That?s a whole gram. So just feel into it.?
Then she left the shed and I looked around like a rebellious school girl checking to see if anyone was watching and just popped the rest of it all in my mouth, satisfied with my badassery, writing in my journal, ?That?s my girl. That?s how you do it, Jord,? then in scribbled writing I was like,
?Okay writing is hard now.?
And then things took a deep turn.
Lately, I have been fascinating with everything ?meta? and I was contemplating this with the shrooms and they told me,
?The moral of the story with your whole ?meta? fascination is that nothing is sacred. Nothing is fucking sacred. It?s all shit, dear.
But somehow, in the bag of decaying cells that is form, everything becomes sacred in its own, beautiful, decaying cells sort of way.
The impermanence of form is what makes it so sacred. So precious.?
Huh. That?s deep, Shrooms Jord.
But the depth didn?t last long because immediately after this I wrote,
?LOL @ you for referring to yourself as ?The Philosopher? in your writings when you were in 7th goddamned grade can I just say that? Big fat LOL.?
Then things quickly shifted, with a different voice popping in my head saying,
?But also, Jord. When are you going to stop trying to be cool and just accept your gifts for what they are? When are you going to own it??
Good point. But let?s put a pin in that because I need to pee. I got up to go to the bathroom and exited the shed for the first time in literally hours. My shaman was drumming and keeping ceremony and she?s like, ?Do you need me to help you get there? You haven?t tried walking yet??
And I was like, ?Na, bitch, I?m good.?
Okay, I didn?t say that, but that?s what I thought because Shrooms Jord is sassy. Then I skipped off down the rock path to the house, feeling like the most graceful human being alive.
When I came back by her, I started giggling and had to suppress it until I got back to my journal where I could not keep the giggles in anymore and I wrote,
?She?s out there keeping her like super serious ceremony shit going and I?m in here just giggling and writing fuck a lot.?
Most of the time on shrooms I felt like a rebellious school girl who had to pretend that everything wasn?t as lame as it clearly was.
After staring off into space for awhile, I started giggling again, writing down,
?OMG I just thought there was a bug on the rug but turns out it was just a speck that I only thought was moving around because I?m high on shrooms. lol.?
Lol indeed. Then I realized the funniness of the bug on the rug faded far before I was able to write down the experience, which made me realize how much effort it was taking me to write things down, declaring,
?Words. I fucking love you. But you are exhausting.?
Then, like I do all the time even when I am sober, I wondered if I was having the experience I ?should? be having.
?Am I still too aware?
Always so goddamn aware.
Like I was hoping to see some shit. Instead I just feel like me.
Like ?Jordin Plus.?
Ell oh fucking ell.?
Most of the time I felt like I should be experiencing something different than I actually was. Like some ?one with nature? shit. But instead, I felt like,
?IDK I?m just one with myself. Ha. One with my overly aware, too-aware-for-her-own-good self. This is how I?ve always been. This is who I am. It feels good to come home to that.?
Aww. How sweet. But the tinge of feeling like there was something wrong with my experience remained,?
?I feel like I?m supposed to be out there exploring but fuck that I?m going to stay in here and explore the recesses of the worlds I build in my own head.?
To which I so poetically concluded,
?I am just a girl with worlds in her head, determined to explore every last inch of them.
Only to add,
?Why do I feel like that?s a tweet??
After much pause, I decided,
?Honestly, I could take more of this shit. I open my eyes and still feel like me.?
Then a new voice in my head popped in to say,
?What is with this obsession to try and escape yourself and who you are all the time? What is with that? Own yourself. Fucking own it.?
I immediately recognized this as my future self and said to her,
?Thank you, Future Jord. I feel like you just popped into my head to say that.?
?Hahaha,? she replied, ?I did. You?re fucking high. Enjoy. I?ll catch you on the flip.?
?Nooo?.? I pleaded with her, ?Stay??
?Nooo?? she responded, ?I have a business to run? But you stay, love. Enjoy. Soon enough you?ll be me. Can?t you see me? My life is fucking magic. Not because it?s so awesome but because I found the miraculousness in everything. Enjoy yourself and your own mind. Honestly fucking enjoy. Fuck everybody else who doesn?t get it. This is precious. You are precious. Never forget it, love. Okay, I have a meeting. Have fun, high girl. See you soon enough. But at that time you?ll be looking through my eyes.
Love you, Jord. Here you are. No more words just?here you are.?
And there I fucking was.
Her words rang in my psyche as she left for her ?meeting? (which, can I just say, LOL), and I was sent spinning into the present moment, grappling with all the implications of what it means to be here now.
My future self?s parting words were so powerful, I even put my journal away and just experienced what it was like to be me.
And then, finally, I went outside.
At first I left my journal inside, but soon enough I realized that just wouldn?t do. I still had an incessant need to record all the brilliant thoughts floating in my head.
So I went back in and grabbed a different journal, since the parting words of my future self in my other journal seemed too sacred to defile with more words.
I went back outside and flipped through this new journal that I had only used before for to-do lists months and months ago. This was my response to those checklists:
Then things got deep. The shrooms spoke to me and said,
?There are other meta fish out there. Just like you.
To which I responded,
?These spaces feel so far apart?
Like. Literally on the page. These spaces are too far apart.?
Sigh. FOCUS, Shrooms Jord, focus!
But I did not focus. I reflected on my experience saying,
?So far shrooms has felt like my own comedy show to myself. Fucking here for it shrooms.?
?I am my own best company. Fuck grammar.?
Cracking myself up all the while.
After some more observing of nature and cracking bad jokes to myself, I wrote down,
?I think I?m coming down now? Hard to say. I sort of feel like this is how my brain works all the time. Except now I am feeling more nauseus.?
This thought was interjected with a quick thought that said,
?LOL I keep thinking I have bugs crawling all over me but they are just specs. Shrooms, you slay me.?
Then I returned to this persistent feeling that I should be experiencing something different than I was,
?Most of the time on shrooms I?ve been feeling like I should be having a different experience than I am having. Like I should be ?embodying? more. Fuck that. I am just awareness. And I?m awesome.
God there isn?t much that cracks me up more than pure, raw, awareness.?
Then I spent quite a while laughing until a sad thought struck me,
?My awareness is a shield. A defense against vulnerability. I feel like I must mourn this.?
And I did, saying,
?Like sure, maybe I?m supposed to be in the moment and experiencing what I?m experiencing but instead I?m writing it all down for you all to enjoy later. You?re welcome.
I feel like a recorder of the human experience. Not the embodiment of the human experience. But this makes me feel like a robot. Like I?m watching other people live, not able to live myself. And it?s not that I?m too afraid to live. Perhaps it is that. But there is definitely an element of just not being able to live like they can live. My awareness is envious of their lack of awareness.
Fuuuuck me, right?
This is the goddamn predicament.?
Indeed it is, Shrooms Jord. You?ve been afraid of your vulnerability for a very long time. So instead of embodying the human experience, you will settle for recording it.
Read more about this here.
?So yeah,? Shrooms Jord continues, ?Why do I feel like I?ve just recorded my entire shrooms sesh? Probably because I did. I hope this shit is good for you all.?
Then another sad streak hit me,
?Why do I feel like I?m going to read this later and start crying because I keep saying, ?I hope this shit is good for you all? like it?s not a meta fucking sample of my heart?s cry since always.
I hope this shit is good for you all.
I hope I am worth something.
Sadness. Grief. This is what it looks like for the robot to step into embodiment right now.
So fascinating?the closing in qualities of sadness and grief. Most of all shame.
Wow. I am feeling it. Shame that I don?t fit in.?
And then I lost it under the sharpness of pure awareness,
?Why am I laughing right now? Fucking raw awareness. You crack me up every time.?
And just as suddenly as the sadness came, it transitioned into something else; it transitioned into a gateway into who I am;
?I don?t have wild stories of crazy embodiment. Well, I sort of do. But not when I feel like I am supposed to. When I feel like I am supposed to, I come up with something different, something tender. I come up with this. My words. My raw human experience. Take it for what it?s worth, love. I am just another ball of awareness wrapped up in a bag of decaying cells, wondering if I?m the only one who wonders.
Hello. I am Jordin James.?
And then the realization struck me,
??Thaaat?s fuckin? embodiment, man. For awhile there, I thought I was nameless.?
And then in tiny letters, crammed at the bottom of the page,
?I am a recorder of my own experience. I hope this shit is good for you all. Because I?m just over here doin? me.?
And then I got destructive.
Or, wanted to get destructive.
?I?m here sitting in front of this rock formation I know my shaman is really proud of and has put a lot of time into and I?m sitting here and I just want to fucking RUIN IT. I want to defile that shit.?
I tried making sense of this with,
?I think this speaks to a deeper awareness that nothing is sacred. And by nothing is sacred I mean everything is sacred.?
To which I concluded,
So in the words of my best friend, ?Lets get SHITTTYYYY.?
Keep it classy, Shrooms Jord.
Ah, the come down.
Or should I say, the ?come down.?
I thought I was coming down far before I was actually coming down. I could tell by the bamboo,
?Sometimes I think I am coming down but then I look over at all this random bamboo and it cracks me the fuck up. Clearly not sober yet. But I mean?fuckin? bamboo amirite???
This was the time I decided I needed to write down the key takeaways of my trip which included:
1) Most of the time I felt like I should be having a different experience than I was. More specifically, I felt like I was doing something wrong for being me and having the experience I was having. Daddy issues, HELLO.
2) I?ve felt like a school girl that sees things for what they are, namely how LAME everything is hahaha. Dazzle me or I?m out, bitchez. I have shiny object syndrome just like the rest of ?em. Let?s be real.
And that?s as far as I got until a wise and sassy lady popped into my head and started dropping all these truth bombs on me about my current love interest calling it, ?Some bonafide shadow shit,? emphasizing it with, ?That?s right, bitch, I said it.?
She went on to talk about how embodiment has been a theme for me on this trip, calling me out big time by saying,
?I know you think you?re a robot and all but girl I seen you looking. I seen you eying that experience. I seen you on your own time thinkin? bout dipping ya toes in that water. Mhmm. No hiding. No shame. All us robots do it from time to time. Just be you girl.?
There was more she called me out on, but it would take too long to explain to make any sense to you.
I interjected her mid-rant though with a ?weird side thought? (yes that?s what I called it) that is actually pretty profound,
?I don?t even feel like the same person who was a waitress in high school. Feels like not even me. Don?t you think that maybe your future self will feel that way about how you are now?
On the one hand, sort of lonely and weird, but on the other hand, cheers, mate, because you?ll be a different fucking person entirely in 3?5 years.?
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I love shrooms.
?Why do I have ink all over my hands and my clothes??
?Oh, IDK, Jord, maybe because you?ve been writing for fucking hours on end.?
Literally hours. I could not stop documenting my inner world. I was absolutely fascinated and obsessed.
?Shrooms madness, people. It?s a thing.?
Then I made a joke in reference to a quote by good ole? ancient Heraclitus and laughed my ass off for a solid three and a half minutes,
?I definitely feel like I?m not the same person as I was before I took mushrooms. Sort of like how no man can step in the same river twice, except with mushrooms.?
?I HOPE THIS SHIT IS GOOD FOR YOU ALL because I?m fucking dyyyying over here.?
I exploded in writing. To which I quickly responded,
?NOT literally. Which, is a good pulse check considering I just ate a bunch of magic mushrooms, but alls to say, I?m loving my own company.?
Reflecting on this I wondered,
?Why can?t I love myself this much all the time??
?O wait. I do.?
(Nobody loves themselves that much all the time.)
(I was very, very high).
Then, for no apparent reason, I started a new page and wrote,
Just to honor all the jokes I?ve told myself during this trip. Reflectively adding an arrow pointing to the onomatopoeia explaining,
?All I have to say to sum up what this trip has been for me.?
And honestly, that does about sum it up.
And then I noticed the bamboo again and gauged my sobriety.
?The bamboo isn?t as funny anymore ? sure sign sobriety is coming closer.?
Then I got meta and practical all at the same time,
?I love that the funnyness of bamboo is my sobriety measuring stick right now. I think that?s a clear sign I am still not sober. Prolly shouldn?t drive.?
Yeah, Jord. Prolly shouldn?t.
And after I saw the bamboo, I just couldn?t unsee it.
Are we, though?
An hour or so later, the urge to document every iota of my experience vanished and I barely mustered up the will to write my parting words.
?After being on shrooms, real life feels super lame. Just sayin. This shit is way less funny.
Except the bamboo. That shits still funny as fuck.
But now, I guess, in a soberish sort of way.
Goodbye, funny bamboo, goodbye mushies, children of the plant medicine.
It?s been real.
Catch you on the flippity flip.?
Thanks, Shrooms Jord. Catch you on the flippity flip.
I wrote two other articles about this trip. One is a compilation of every funny thing I wrote down (most included in this article but some not) and the other is about the troubling underlying thread of this entire trip. Both are linked below!
Random Shit I Say On Shrooms
I took shrooms for the first time and documented everything. Writing and giggling. That?s pretty much all I did.
The Troubling Underlying Thread of My First Shrooms Trip
I took shrooms for the first time and documented everything in my journal. I was appalled at what I found.