Funny Mushrooms in Costa Rica: Part 2
“Do a little bit more,” he said to me as he folded the tinfoil.
I was sitting on a makeshift bed in an open-air hut about 30 yards from the ocean. A small square place, about 10 feet by 10 feet, with a meticulously organized kitchen and bed. It resembled a patio with half walls. I wondered how many bugs attacked him when he slept. Or if he just sweats the entire time. It was 80+ degrees and 9 pm.
The night before I took part in a mushroom ceremony. Reluctantly. He was the Shaman. A foreign man with hordes of hair - body, head, and beard. Black hair consumed him. The kind of dude who can sit in the lotus position for hours, unbothered. A man who has been to the other side more times than I have been to the movies.
The ceremony had gone surprisingly well. The only other times I have ever tried psychedelics were grueling. I am no good at drugs.
However, I did so well during the mushroom ceremony, I decided to buy some more to try on the beach the next day. Seemed like a great idea… sun, surf, sand, and fungi.
“Do a little bit more this time,” he said again as he boxed up some magic mushrooms. He personally grows them under a waterfall nearby.
“Sure,” I mumbled.
The next day I headed to the beach with the girls around 2 pm. There were four of us, plenty of sunshine, and one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. The girls ate some mushrooms. I ate three, the same as the night of the ceremony, and laid back in my lounge chair. Let the good times roll.
30 minutes later I was feeling pretty good so I ate three more. When in Rome.
They say the best place to do mushrooms is in nature. It connects you to nature. Recent studies are showing all kinds of benefits from healing end-of-life anxiety to reducing depression. Paul Stamet, the leading authority on all mushrooms worldwide, damn near overdosed on a bag of mushrooms when he was in high school. Here is a snippet from his appearance on the Joe Rogan podcast:
During his first interview with Joe Rogan, Stamets retold the story of his first magic mushroom trip, a transformational moment for the mycologist.
Throughout his life, Stamets had struggled with a stuttering problem. He took his first magic mushroom dose as a young man and described how the psychedelic experience changed his life.
After eating an entire bag of mushrooms, Stamets climbed a high tree in the middle of a powerful thunderstorm. “I was up there and I felt in touch with Gaia and the universe,” he explained. “My heart opened up I felt one with all. I was like, “Oh my gosh, this is such a powerful spiritual experience.”
As the storm raged around him, Stamets began to wrestle with his stuttering problem. “I said to myself, ‘Stop stuttering now. Stop stuttering now.’ I said that dozens, hundreds of times. Over and over and over.”
Once the psychedelic journey had ended, Stamets no longer had a problem with his stutter. Stamets ended the story with an explanation of the healing power of fungi: “It has been medically proven that we can reset the neurology of the human brain through neurogenesis. I believe that experience allowed me to map new neurological pathways.”
I bet that was one hell of a ride…
My mushrooms started to take effect and I was feeling good. The colors of the ocean were vibrant and bright. The sun was perfect and warm. The music in my earphones was radiating through my body.
Then I got the tick. The “oh shit” tick. The tick that started my mind racing. The tick that calls for a walkabout. A walkabout to reduce the intensity of impending doom and avoid people at all costs.
I got up and walked down the beach doing breathing exercises and reminding myself I wasn’t going to die. Waves of paranoia washed over me. I talked to my inner child, God, my outer child, and the ocean. My mind raced. Breathe in, breathe out. How many more hours of this?
“Atlanta!” a huge man was pointing directly at me with an enormous index finger as he approached from a distance.
Here’s the deal. The very last thing you want to do when you are having a hard time on mushrooms is to look another human being in the eyes. Holding a conversation is an even more absurd idea. Meeting someone for the first time is simply unheard of.
“Atlanta?” He shouted again moving closer and closer to me.
“What?” I said in pure panic. My mind was spinning. Please lord…
“You from Atlanta?” he said with a good ole boy smile. I remembered I was wearing an ATL hat. Damn.
“Yeah?” I forced a word to leave my mouth successfully.
“LaGrange,” he said like we had been best friends since the war. “Down here on vacation. Beautiful place. What part of Atlanta?” he continued.
“Marietta.” I have no idea why I said Marietta. I live downtown.
“Yeah, I just changed careers from teaching school to cybersecurity” he got closer and bigger and scarier.
Small talk gives me anxiety when I am happy and sober. At this point, I was in full panic mode hoping my face wasn’t contorting in a million different ways. His was. Could have been the mushrooms.
“Ok,” I mumbled proud I had been able to hang on this long in the conversation.
I looked over his shoulder and could see my safe space, the beach chair off in the distance. My entire soul craved to get to the chair and hide from the world. How could I possibly get out of this conversation without simply saying I am losing my mind right now because I ate a bunch of fungi that generally grows on cattle excrement.
“Yeah, alright, ok, right, yeah, uh-huh, yeah” I made noises as best I could as he rambled off a million more things I had zero interest in hearing. I tried to focus on his face, the conversation, and staying alive.
Was this really happening?
“What do you think places cost down here to rent for a few months?” He asked peering deeper and deeper into my soul.
How in the hell was I supposed to figure out math, run a real estate analysis on Costa Rica, speak, and stay alive all at the same time?
“Sorry, I gotta go.” I cut him off mid-sentence and quickly moved past.
I got to my chair and could not sit still so I got into the ocean. Then I got back to my chair. Then back into the ocean. Waves of hell washed over me as I floated in and out of paranoia.
At one point I looked over at the girls and thought they had lost their minds. One was pacing frantically, another talking to imaginary people, and the third staring directly at the ocean. Sensing that there was nothing I could do to save them I grabbed my backpack and walked back to the house. Barefoot.
A long, rocky, walk from the beach to the road to the dirt road to the house. When I arrived, David was in the pool.
Damn it. Another human.
After some terrifying small talk, I finally made it up to my room where I hid for the next two hours. Eventually, it started wearing off and I ate half a cracker. God had saved me after all.
I carefully snuck back downstairs ready to face the world again. I was certain the girls, who had never tried mushrooms before, had lost their minds and gone to the hospital. I dreaded checking my phone but was worried sick.
“Come meet us for a drink. We are at the restaurant on the beach.” – a text from Ilene.
There was no way they are still alive. I made my way to the restaurant and there they were.
“Are you guys ok?” I asked wondering what happened to them.
“Yes! That was so fun!” they all replied.
Shoot me.
Trey
