Or, why these six words best encapsulate my recent fantastic fungi-assisted magical mystery tour.
“What we call reality is, in fact, nothing more than a culturally and linguistically sanctioned hallucination” —Terence McKenna
“My soul can find no staircase to heaven unless it be through earth’s loveliness” —Michelangelo
DISCLAIMER: Therapy Outside the Box does not endorse the use of any illegal substances. Nothing in this post should be interpreted as suggestion or recommendation to source, acquire, grow, purchase, ingest or distribute any substance listed as Schedule 1 in any U.S. state or territory. Nor as a recommendation to do so while taking prescription medications without first consulting your physician or other medical or health professional. Please do not ever discontinue any medications without consulting the prescribing physician/other medical or health professional involved in your care.
‘it’s time, you ready?’ -The Mushroom
Having felt ‘called’ to the psychedelic experience, after much planning, reflection, praying and surrendering, I recently embarked on a 5 dried gram psilocybin journey. A so-called ‘heroic dose’ of Guadalajaras, a medium-high potency strain.
There it is. Cat’s out of the bag. Or out of the box I should say :>
Since I hoped on the new psychedelic third wave paradigm train a few years ago as a theoretical psychonaut and proponent of the healing power and potential of psychedelics-as-medicine, it only makes sense to at some point I’d walk the talk.
Not that I hadn’t before.
After a harrowing DNOTS-foreshadowing ayahuasca ceremony experience in 2017, I said afterwards that I wasn’t ever going to seek it out again. I didn’t seek for that one, but the timing of the invite was terrible (or perfect, depending on how you look at it). She (Mother Ayahuasca) handed me my ass, as they say. It’s taken me years to understand what the medicine was showing me, and why so brutally. I’m eternally grateful for it now. But damn. Anyway, I decided if another journey was meant for me, I’ll leave it in the hands of spirit and get a sign. I’ll be called to it somehow.
Since then, until about 2 months ago, nothing, until out of nowhere it started calling. And it did so clearly and relentlessly. Mushroom dreams, people synchronistically bringing it up, internet images and prompts, constant thoughts and suggestions of it my meditations, references in books everywhere, even strangers on social media trying to sell me psychedelics (no thanks). Ultimately it was my higher guides/guidance (heretofore: HG/G) that confirmed beyond any shadow that I was in fact being called by it/to it. I mean, free will always, but…
“Everything medicine or poison, depending on dose and how its used.” -Siddha Veda
Once committed my plan for this journey came together quickly. The perfect place—a yurt-style hippie hut in the middle of nowhere Tennessee, my wife as sober sitter, and a pile of mushrooms grown by someone trustworthy a while back and kept in safe storage.
I consulted HG/G on each and every aspect—from verifying that it was for me (ayahuasca is evidentially is not for me, accordingly to HG/G), when, where, why (intentions), that I had the blessing of all the highest and holiest, that they would be with me before, during and after, and that I’d be safe throughout, right down to the exact dose for my ‘highest and best good.’ It was the guidance I received on the dose that surprised me most. Which is why I asked probably six different times in six different ways if I was in fact being prompted to the full 5 gram dose like I kept sensing and feeling. AND to do so Terence McKenna style, i.e. complete darkness/eye mask, in total silence, which also felt right. HG/G affirmed all of this.
Full disclosure (why stop now?), the ayahuasca experience in 2017 was also not my first rodeo. It was my first intentional, ceremonial, reverent and sacred experience with a plant medicine, that’s for sure. I will say the overnight, celebratory, loud, musical, constant singing and chanting Brazilian-style ceremony was definitely not my style, and I believe only exacerbated the profoundly difficult experience I seemed destined to have. But I knew this not going in.
Anyway, I consumed (partied with) my share of psychedelics in my late teens/early twenties, mostly during the during the “Dead Head” phase of my youth. I remember each type I tried. But no recall of dosage. Would 5 dried grams be the largest then? I can’t say. At age 53, this felt like a tall order. Yet, feeling more grounded, happy, alive, fulfilled, passionate and spiritualty-aligned than any other time in my life by far, I suppose if there ever was a time to go all in, now was it.
I also haven’t at all felt like I needed this for spiritual purposes. My own daily spirit communion-spiritual initiation/opening to channel process a few years in the making, and the fruits of this ever-unfolding labor is honestly compelling enough. Like Salvador Dali said: “I don’t need drugs. I am drugs.” But I’m a seeker to the core, and don’t tend to shy away from opportunities to test limits, especially when it comes to piercing the veil. When you go through a spiritual emergency/psychic dismemberment cum DNOTS, provided you recover and parlay it into an unfolding awaken-ing experience, you also tend not to fear much anymore. And I trust either my HG/G completely, or not at all. The answer is obvious.
the DOORS (OF PERCEPTION)
My youthful psychedelic forays were partially inspired by the things I was listening to (60’s psychedelia in spades) and reading at the time, (Kesey, Huxley, Weil, etc). So there was a core of authentic striving/seeking for a glimpse beyond; for a sliver of transcendence, of course. But lacking maturity and emotional intelligence, with no real sense of the sacred, the indigenous traditions, or the dangers involved when approached in an inchoate manner, in truth, I’m lucky no real harm ever came to me. And embarrassing as it is to admit, the main driver back then was clearly thrill-based escapism. Escape from the shame, pain, insecurity, powerlessness, fragile ego/diffuse identity, and the increasingly foreboding sense of responsibility I was stepping into that I did not feel prepared for. First world problems, I know.
But, the few glimpses of genuine ineffability I recall having on psychedelics as a younger me certainly had a profound and lasting effect.
The set up
Once at the destination, we saged the space, set up, prayed, invoked the highest and holiest, and took a few pictures of the more than appropriate décor in this little hippie hut. In these pictures were more than a few orbs, which was unsurprising and entirely fitting. I chewed down the mushrooms, took a little water, called in my HG/G and highest level spiritual protection, said a few prayers and decrees, and entered into spirit communion/meditation. My head began rotating in and out of the mainstay infinity symbol formation as it always does—my signal that a higher consciousness has touched down to connect, commune, and work with/for/through me in some way on the etheric body level. Within 10 minutes at most my body become highly activated, and I quickly realized I would not be able to remain focused for long. So I moved onto the mat we laid out in front of the little space heater (it was a cold, dark day outside, and cold in the hut) and off I went.
‘Roger, we have lift…’
I’m not gonna lie, the lift off was far more intense than I was prepared for. I mean, like a fucking tsunami with the baddest intentions. A turbo rocket through a massive hurricane. Jake LaMotta (Raging Bull) or a coked-up Mike Tyson in his prime at the sound of the bell in Rd 1. You get the idea. The visceral, physiological, energetic escalation into the psychedelic atmosphere was so powerful that more than once, even through my prayers and despite my complete trust that this was all purposeful, safe and guided, I had a few temporary freak outs. Two in particular.
The first I worked through on my own, asking the frightened, reactive protector (firefighter) part(s) of me to trust me (my larger Self), my guides, trust the process (as we say in therapy), step back and let me and spirit lead, and the plant consciousness to do its thing. I surrendered and settled back in. Subjective emergency thwarted.
And just in time, because the next wave of escalation and intensity soon followed, and this second burst of abject terror and subsequent freak out was a code red. A whole faction of my reactive protective parts banded together on a dime and screamed in unison “you took too much, you can’t handle this, there’s no way to stop it…tell your wife now, get to the hospital, go, go go!!”
No sooner than I could act on this, thankfully, a voice, clearly not from any of my own parts, either my Higher Self of a guide calmly jumped in: “don’t scare your wife, you’re fine…relax…surrender.” So I obeyed, surrendered again, and again, and again. It took longer to let go and sink back in after this one. But I made it.
Going, going, gone…
Much of what transpired from this point on will take me God only knows how long to better understand and integrate. I’ll start by trying to describe the indescribable, and this will be little more than tip o’ the iceberg summary.
Unlike my ayahuasca experience, where everything was as vision-less, black, and as full of despair and suffering as could be imagined for about eight straight hours (interrupted only by regular trips to the can to crap my living brains out again and again) this experience from lift-off on was as heavily visual, 3D layered, and technicolor as anything I could dream up. And when I say 3D, I mean fractalgasmic and kaleidoscopic to the ten thousandth power. Like moving through a million layer prism at warp speed.
This first major interlude, the longest, I think, was what can only be described as a deep shamanic under/lower world odyssey. Like an other-worldly Indiana Jones expedition, I was plummeted way down into the inner earth, seemingly knowing where to go, where to turn, how to proceed, thought not why or towards what end. I found myself crawling, floating, and burrowing through dark and unfathomably deep caverns, tunnels, and caves within the lower world. Much of it was curiously aquatic. Everything was wildly alive—pulsating, watching, lifting, guiding, prodding me on. There was a striking amount of animal, especially insectoid imagery throughout. Imagery that seemed to symbolically hint at both ancient Mayan/Hopi symbolism (Ant People) and/or insectoid alien races (Mantis/Mantids). I understand a lower world experience is actually common especially for first large dose psychedelic journeys, at least with particular strains perhaps more than others.
face down, ass up
I spent most of the meat of this part of the journey and somewhat into the next stages in the fetal position on my side on the floor, where I basically remained for three solid hours. There were moments/movements where I was literally not just down in, but intimately part of the earth. One with it, or increasingly becoming so. I recall feeling a little rudderless, getting lost in the silence and aloneness at one point, edging on losing my time and space orientation altogether. I somehow had presence of mind to ask my wife to kick on a lone shamanic drum recording we had cued if I needed an anchor. That helped a lot.
Strangely, outside of the first two freaks outs mentioned above, there was literally no fear at any other point. Confusion, bewilderment, difficulty taking it all in and keeping up, and awe in spades. But no fear. I guess I passed the test early as far as that goes. This shamanic underworld interlude ended with my being literally wholly rebirthed in the womb of Gaia; of Mother Earth herself. If both my ayahuasca and subsequent spiritual emergency/DNOTS were symbolic death experiences, this was the new beginning.
This rebirthing part of the journey had me face planted down into my pillow, ass up, for God knows how long. All I remember was that I was alternately in this pose, back on my side in fetal, then up crossed legged, then back down on my side, stretching out, the back to face down, ass up, all the while full-body twitching throughout. Seemingly out of instinct, almost an unspoken mandate, I remember mimicking or shadowing the movement of some kind of giant hedgehog looking animal (!?). And there I lay, for a quite a time, as if having buried myself alive down in the center of the earth, jungle way above, curiously at peace, trusting of whatever this was, and allowing the apparent animal-assisted rebirth to do its thing to the beat of a lonely drum.
(Far as I know, a hedgehog is neither my spirit nor power animal) :>
My wife later said I was gesticulating and gyrating in angular shapes and configurations she didn’t think my body was even capable of. It was as if my entire physical was being maneuvered by an alternate intelligence. Everything but spontaneously throwing ancient mudra poses, as is common in some spontaneous kundalini emergency situations triggered by intense spiritual practices.
‘Hell’ Realms
Here’s where it got real. Being taken to the hell realms is no joke. And its probably obvious to the reader, but for clarification I’m not talking about the static, exoteric, institutional Judeo-Christian/biblical eternal fire and brimstone hell. Rather, one of the lower density, low vibration realms/dimensions, of which there are apparently many, as is described in much esoteric ancient spiritual traditions, and supported by a treasure trove of Near-Death Experience (NDE) literature.
I had the sense of being carried, almost floating through these realms as an observer, held in some kind of invisible spiritual protective force field, but always just above the fray, so to speak. What I was witness to were legions upon legions of suffering souls. Souls tightly banded together, looking up, arms stretched upward, seemingly desperate for helping hands, with big, wide eyes, hairless, but no other facial features that I remember. During the experience, and more so as I’ve reflected and integrated with the help of HG/G to decipher exactly what all I was supposed to understand from this, I had a sense of why I was taken to these realms.
My takeaway was twofold: To be made aware/reminded that although there are indeed lower realms/dimensions full of profound suffering, the reality is that redemption and exit (moving out of these realms and towards the light-filled ‘upper rooms’) is always possible. What each one must do to make their way up and out is idiosyncratic to that soul, their karma, choices, harms, errors, what have you. But that no soul is condemned forever to a permanent hell/lower realm existence. No one is locked up and the key discarded. But each soul must figure out and commit to doing what needs to be done to change their station. And the love of The Divine is always available, always merciful, forgiving, unconditionally loving, all that good stuff. Full stop.
I was also clearly being shown, especially given the current state of my personal spiritual journey, the dire importance of pure and enduring compassion for the suffering. And of holding next level space. Specifically, this was a lesson in the importance of compassion flowing from the knowledge that karma, cause and effect, however you think of it, is a universal, natural law of the universe. And that because no one is excluded from the opportunity for redemption and the possibility of ascension, the call to compassionate holding space in the midst of suffering without judgement is essential. Because, judge not lest you be judged (Christ). And what you damn damn you back (The Guides via Paul Selig). Point taken.
The second part of what I mean by the fray was clear glimpses of s-e-r-i-o-u-s darkness. Silent, stationary, but super imposing dark figures did I lay eyes on. This was confirmation that true evil exists, and a reminder of the importance of staying in integrity, aligning with truth, and the highest and holiest light (The I Am Presence) without loosing sight of the existence and opportunistic nature of dark forces/elements. I felt this to be a personal warning for me to stay vigilant, not get lazy with my own protection protocols, never assuming that being on a spiritual path is a guarantee of permanent safety. That we’re always merely chelas (spiritual students on the path) as long as we are embodied on this plane. Any laziness, hubris, or taking for granted permanent impenetrable protection from dark forces is a major liability. Aspirant beware.
ancient egypt, India, and the cosmos
The next interludes blended together in wild and wonderful ways that I’m nowhere near complete in unravelling. So I’ll say the least here. But about hour 2 1/2 to 3 hrs or so in is where I was transported to other worlds, across time, cultures, and far beyond the galaxy.
The earthbound settings were a mixture of ancient Egypt and India. The main thing I can say in up to this point in my integration of the multiple of timeless ancient spiritual symbols and vital forms I was shown is that it was a true privilege and blessing. I feel I was offered glimpses into the secret coded language of the universe; real peaks beyond the veil, and assurances, of origin stories, mostly though symbolic imagery. I came out with a sense that for all my insatiable spiritual curiosity, study, seeking, periods in the proverbial wilderness, and ecstatic highs, and with respect to my initiation process unfolding, I was being granted in this psychedelic space a pinhole view into the reality of the lesser and even Greater Mysteries of the ages, as described in much gnostic, esoteric and mystery school traditions.
The appearance of Lord Shiva as Nataraja, and the twice appearance of Mahavatar Babaji, the Yogi-Christ of modern India, aka the “Deathless Saint” was an astounding treat. A affirmation of, something. Maybe many things. Not exactly sure. Beyond that, I have much more to reflect on and attempt to decode and integrate.
As for the comic adventure portion, it was intermixed and mingled within the Egypt and India scenes, and then separately the culmination of those interludes. One standout visuals, indelibly imprinted upon me now, was of a dome resembling a giant brain surrounding and enfolding the entire cosmos…that more than once momentarily shapeshifted into a massive alien/ET head and face. Indeed, there were interdimensional/extradimensional galactic/cosmic culture imagery all throughout. And if you don’t already think me insane in the membrane, this might be where you would have me committed. But my take on this particular brain cum alien was a symbolically supportive, I felt, of the material Delores Cannon brought forth in her numerous hypnotherapy sessions with contactees and abductees. Information derived direct from off- world beings themselves as to the true history of earth and the working of the higher order of the multiverse. More or less suggesting that the universe is not only teeming with intelligent life, but that the earth may have in fact been ‘seeded’ by other highly advanced life forms, similar to the Panpsychism view, but probably closer to Zoo Hypothesis. In other words, that we are indeed a baby starter planet; a lesser evolved way station in the grand scheme. The nursery school of the multiverse, you might say. According to Cannon’s other-worldy sources via the deep Subconscious (akasha/collective consciousness) this is the reason for the ubiquity of UFO sightings throughout time, for abductions, and constant monitoring and direct intrusion of our war mongering and constant edging on destroying ourselves and the planet (nuclear test site/weapon shut downs)— the one exception to the apparently accurate Star Trek-proposed non-interference imperative. Truth be told, I have long intuitively felt all of this to be highly likely as fart as origin story. And its been confirmed by my HG/G that I myself have Pleiadean, Arcturian, and Mantis soul family lineage. So, there’s that.
Anyway, the rest of this interlude involved me being transported throughout space, spacetime, to places and realms that are at once unclear, immense beyond all imagination, yet comfortable and familiar. And so much more than that, and equally as difficult to capture in language at this point.
intermission/wind down
When there finally came a point that I felt I was getting a reprieve from the multisensory, multidimensional onslaught, I noticed I was a little thirsty, a tad hungry, and definitely needed to pee. I lifted my eye mask and ventured out of the hut with my wife’s assistance. And I shit you not, on this cold, dark, cloudy day, wouldn’t you know, just as I was arousing out of the kaleidoscopic stratosphere, the sun burst out from the clouds. My wife was like “of course!” I worshipped and basked in the warm glow of the sunlight for a bit, hit the outhouse, and wandered and grounded down outside for a minute. By the time I ventured back in, the sun was already receding. Can’t make this stuff up.
shroomaganza
Heading back to the mat once inside, I masked up and lay back down. On my back this time felt right, and for the next hour or so the final chapter was literally scene after scene of mushrooms continuously growing, sprouting, popping up, merging back into nature, of fungal networks, and mushrooms, mushrooms, and more mushrooms in wild vibrant colors, and all shapes, sizes and varieties, flourishing and covering the expanse of the earth. The message seemed to be that all the earth is essentially, you guessed it, a mushroom. And this was the culmination of my full immersion and merging with the cult of mycelium consciousness. I’m in.
Headless Hare Krishna
Once the imagery finally began to fade out and it felt time for the playlist-assisted come down/phase 1 integration, I had my wife hit play. But she had taken a chance by slipping in George Harrison’s ‘My Sweet Lord’ to kick it off. An intuitive genius she is! A massive grin came over my face and by the third guitar strum I was up dancing around the hut, laughing, crying, and singing like a Hare Krishna. And to add another dose of strangeness, while my body was up dancing, and I was clearly singing, laughing and crying, I could swear my head felt like it was still on the mat. An Off-of Body experience ?!
By the track’s end I was back on the mat, head magically re-affixed to my body, taking in the next handful of beautiful tones.
The last track was Pyramid Song by Radiohead. When I heard the line: “There’s nothing to fear, nothing to doubt” I instantly wept at the truth, beauty, poignancy; the illustrative application to what I had just experienced. Part of why is the timing, of course, Upon further reflection, it was the way it echoed some of the sentiments from my personal spiritual initiation work, from my daily decrees. Specifically:
‘I AM forgiveness acting here, casting out all doubt and fear, setting men forever free with wings of cosmic victory. I AM calling in full power for forgiveness every hour, to all life in every place, I flood forth forgiving grace.’
‘…I AM free from fear and doubt, casting want and misery out, knowing now all good supply ever comes from realms on high…’
If I didn’t know it before, I know now beyond any hint of fear or shadow of doubt that there is indeed nothing to fear, and nothing to doubt.
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Peace, Love, and All The Good Things!
Chris Hancock, LCSW, ACMHP
Franklin, TN