January 1st

Love, Psilocybin, and Sentient Forests

January 2024

My partner and I woke up early on the morning of January 1st. Or I did, anyway. Which unfortunately for her in this instance, meant we both did. Like, 4:30 am kind of early. Lacking the incentive to attain verticality and with no daylight in sight, we spent the next four hours engaging in pillow talk and various forms of cuddles before pausing for coffee, a light breakfast, and brief individual work sessions. We then dressed and left for the day.

After acquiring protein smoothies and snacks from a spot downtown, we headed up into the woods. Our goal for the afternoon was to take a small, functional dose of a new-to-us form of psilocybin known as “Ghost,” preceded by a CBD gummy. Thus, we were anticipating somewhere between a barely detectable to delightfully mellow walk through the trees to begin the new year proper. That is not at all what we would wind up experiencing, however.

We ordered and timed our consumption with the intent of managing our step-down into a heightened state. The goal was to have the CBD welcome the arrival of the virgin psilocybe softly, after about 15-30 minutes of hiking. And sure as shit, that’s exactly what happened. We both eased into a relaxed, mild euphoria that was most welcomed. Then some 15-20 minutes later we both gained the ridgeline, but my personal ascent continued into the outer reaches of the cosmos. I asked my partner to take a pause in movement as I reached for the stabilization of a young tree trunk that turned out to be about a million miles farther away than my outstretched arm had estimated.

Over the course of the next 30 seconds, a handful of thoughts raced through my mind as I gathered myself. First, if this gets any more intense, I might not be able to walk for a while and may require some passive babysitting. Next, holy shit….if she needs babysitting too, we’re screwed. Followed by, Are those the forest mushrooms and trees that I hear? After some deep breaths, I was able to proceed. No small task at that moment, mind you.

Unfortunately, this hike was new for us and part of a notoriously difficult-to-navigate piece of forest. I had downloaded maps onto my phone before leaving the house, and thus far the trail junctions were lining up with what we had anticipated. We had about an hour and a half of sunlight left, and only about a mile remaining. And for the moment and to my surprise, I was moving along well. So any anxiety about getting back to the trailhead safely was temporarily backburnered. 

Roughly five minutes after my world re-formatted I asked the lady how she was doing. She said she was really starting to feel it. And about five seconds after that she announced for the first of many times, that she was “tripping balls.” Part of me was relieved to have her along for the ride. But simultaneously, the flame on that backburner turned up a notch. We began walking hand in hand along an exceptionally memorable stretch of trail, guarded by electric green moss and lichen. Then the voices I had earlier identified as emanating from the fungi and the trees, grew louder and more pronounced. The lady's previous self-assessment regarding balls was suddenly a very applicable group labeling. 

The mushrooms we had been noticing and photographing at the beginning of the hike were now gathered on either side of the trail, very excitedly telling me how overjoyed they were that the King and Queen of the Forest had finally arrived. They had been awaiting our relationship and eventual arrival together for quite some time, and this was our Grand Entrance. Our Green Carpet walk. In between giggling responses to my forest friends, I informed my partner of what was transpiring. Which surprisingly though kind of unsurprisingly, fazed her not in the slightest as she just knowingly nodded while sporting a Cheshire Cat grin. We resisted the urge to wave so as not to appear too gauche.

For what was probably the next half hour but a week in our minds, we journeyed together. Encountering waves in unison, we enjoyed a shared physical, mental, and emotional ride on ribbons through the woods, both as a couple and individually. All the while feeling like, as the lady so perfectly put it, we were “somehow controlling avatars of ourselves through an avatar-like landscape.” 

At one point I was walking with my arms lowered and extended, palms open and facing forward, if for no other reason than to feel any flora that might be inclined to feel me back. This led to some interesting and insightful conversations with those who felt like they weren’t living up to the standards of beauty and grandeur being set by the rest of the forest. Snapped twigs, deciduous ferns, and saplings, among others, intimately expressed their concerns that we would not be interested in or impressed by them.

I fondly reminded them of my partner’s first sentiments when we began hiking that morning - how much she appreciated all the different presentations of the forest. The range of ages, varying appearances, and a soft spot in her heart for the solitude that this particular kingdom was affording. I also offered my personal assessment that the forest was not complete without their contributions. That none of this, none of us would be here were it not for them. We know it to be true, as does Mother Mycelium.

Shortly thereafter, it became apparent that the trail wasn’t doing what we had anticipated it would. We didn’t have but an hour or so of daylight left and it was a high priority of mine to be back at the trailhead before we lost light. We knew where we were geographically and that (allegedly) there would be trailheads ahead of us imminently. We would just have to walk back to our car along the forest road, which was fine. I’d be comfortable just making it to the road before sundown, knowing at the very least we could employ assistance if need be.

Upon making it to the road, a great horned owl flew directly overhead and perched itself on a tree branch in the direction we were headed. The owl would continue swooping and perching, staying just ahead of our pace for about a mile before leaving us to finish the final stretch of the journey alone. We arrived back at the trailhead just as the last shades of a brilliant sunset were vacating the horizon. You are welcome to debate with me the validity of my previous conversations with the flora all you want. But that fauna shit most certainly happened.

When we arrived back home, I had a beer, she had a glass of wine, and in a final and fitting act for such a day, we would have each other before falling asleep lovingly entangled. Minds and bodies reeling from utter ecstasy and the type of auspicious beginning to a year that almost begs the query, where does it go from here? Or perhaps more accurately, where else can it be taken?