Discovering Gold

When I sold my bike shop and retired 7 years ago, I didn't fuck around. No half ass effort laced with regret and angst. I retired and have not looked back since. Of course my decision was made easier given the health issues that began to rear their ugly heads back then. They didn't cripple me I guess. They did however, fuck with my mind; never mind the Hell that broke loose in my body. .......

But this is not a "Woe is Me" post. No it isn't. It's a celebration of sorts.

When I retired I decided I was pretty much done traveling. The current events of the planet these last 5 years just reinforced that feeling. The world beyond my local yokel borders was off its rocker, gone berserk; was now just a wasteland of hate and discontent.

I looked inward. I looked in my pockets. I gazed over the lakes and a few times to the horizon at the far end of the visible ocean but a short drive from my home. Why the Fuck would I want to go anywhere? 

I used to go everywhere. Been there and done that. Don't need it now. Definitely don't need to see how deep a hole my country has dug for itself. These are my "Golden Years". There's plenty of Gold right here for me to discover. Yesterday, I discovered some of that gold I just knew was hanging out nearby or just down the road.

Because retirement freed up space in my brain to fill back up again, I filled it with moments remembering the misdeeds and the fewer better deeds from my past. My psychedelic years were definitely go-to moments for me to attempt to remember. I tripped so much back in the day, specific memories come back as snippets and glances of those times; often combining the highlights of several trips into one memory. One trip ran into the next one which continued into the next one, etc, etc, etcetera. Yeah, Snake's and my purchase of 500 hits of Purple Micro-Dot acid turned into many lost moments that summer; that summer of 1970.

Dredging up ancient LSD trips got me to thinking. Caused me to consider again, how much I would love to trip again. I always liked it, even when the circumstances were not ideal. 

I wondered though. Had I acquired too much caution as I became an old man to take the chance again? ...... uhm, NAH... Any concern I might have entertained was lost as soon as it crossed my mind. 

I determined that some way, some how, I would score some psychedelics; LSD, Peyote, Shrooms; didn't matter. I wanted to see trails again. I wanted to see the ground ripple, walls breath, watch my face melt in any nearby mirror, but most of all, find the words in my mind scrawled on sidewalks and church doors. Being retired seemed the perfect time to revisit this long past part of my life before I became too careful.  

Instead of trying to chase down a local connect for what I wanted, I began to intermittently look into growing mushrooms in the basement or wherever it was that mushrooms would grow. Online, there are too many choices for information, grow kits, spore connections and guides on how to find it in the wild. Like everything online, the results of a google search can boggle the mind.

Based on the writings of a world renowned Psilocybe expert, Alan Rockefeller, I began to closely inspect the mushrooms I came upon in the local woods and in my own yard. Two years ago, we had our septic tank and leach field replaced. The fill used to cover it was less than I expected. There were noticeable chunks of asphalt, gravel, and wood chips mixed together, passing for the finish layer. Two years later, the grass seeds the septic guy tossed around are still trying to take hold.

Last year while I was out with Maggie, I noticed some mushrooms growing out of that shitty top layer he called topsoil. The mushrooms looked familiar. I had seen them before. Were they Psilocybin mushrooms? Or were they trouble if they found their way into my gulliwots? I thought about it overnight. In the morning I was determined to try one or two. When I went to the spot, some critter had beaten me to it. I was pissed, but I thought maybe that critter saved me a trip to the local clinic........

Yesterday. intermittent showers and 40 degree temps made outside an unpleasant experience. But I went out anyway because I had remembered those mushrooms from last year. .... and  now I had images to compare with.

At the same spot, there was a new batch popping up through the chips/ gravel mix. They looked like they were trippin Shrooms for sure. They did not look fully grown yet, their caps hadn't spread open into a proper mushroom look yet.

From the information I had gathered, I also had some good clues on whether this mushroom was not just a Psilocybin mushroom, but most important, was it safe to eat.

• If it smells earthy like fresh mushrooms at the store smell, well, that's a good sign.
• If the gills are white - not necessarily a good sign.
• Then there was the taste test, a very scientific way created on Tik Tok I think. The idea was to let your mouth decide whether a mushroom was okay to ingest. I am sure other more knowledgeable Mycologists than some clown on Tik Tok might shake the heads, but since I can be clownish on occasion, the taste test method seemed logical as long as the tester understood the possibility of consequences they might not like.
• If you got sick within the first 2 hours, that was better than getting sick after 6 hours.

Okay. Now I was armed with all the information to make a half assed and sketchy decision. Did I concern myself with the odds? No. Did I worry about not waking up tomorrow. No. I picked 2 small Shrooms, ate them fresh and waited.

I figured 2 small Shrooms would not kill me ; maybe make me sick. Regardless, I instantly relied on the old rule of dropping acid Snake and I came up with. Never regret eating Hallucinogens. If it's in your belly, it's too late to regret. Go with the flow, chill, enjoy the ride wherever it might take you. This philosophy certainly helped me to handle jail, several ER visits, being chased by rednecks through the woods, and an afternoon "sitting up" at a funeral home with Snake's very dead Great Grandmother. She talked to me the whole time. Snake asked me who I was talking to. When I told him his Great Grandmother, he busted up laughing, then I busted up laughing...we become so unruly and loud, we were escorted outside to calm down. To be fair we were originally told we would not have Dead G Grandma duty, but things changed when the scheduled sitter blew off the assignment

Staying on topic now .......

I definitely felt the effects of the small dose. I felt music more than I heard it. The letters on the keyboard squirmed some and when I felt my face, it felt awesome. No headaches, no cramps, just a couple of hours of a low dosing Psilocybin. 

My primary concern after I came down was will I wake up in the morning? Or even go to sleep tonight. Nothing like taking a foolish risk to find out how important living is. I can't say I was feeling fearful, anxious or uptight. Sometimes in order to feel alive, one has to threaten one's existence, even if it ends up an empty threat.

It appears I came through in decent condition. And now I have a small crop of Psilocybin mushrooms to collect, dry and hold onto for that moment I feel I need to "Trip the Light Fantastic".

Keep it 'tween the Ditches .........................

__________________________

One of my favorite tunes to listen to while tripping back in my younger days was "The End", by the Doors. If I was getting hyper or antsy, this song always calmed me down.

Enjoy ............................