Generations

 The start of it all.

No Resemblance

Sitting at the dining table, I noticed how I son't look anything like I used to. 

2005 - Age 52

Mornings On the Veranda

The elm has been pruned to shield from the sun. I recently started drinking black tea and bought several: Earl Grey, English Breakfast & Scottish breakfast. What I have is a bit of tea with my Trader Joe's organic half & half and sugar. One 6-ounce cup is enough.

The turtles respond to our presence by hurtling toward us. Michelle has trained them to look for food at the far end. That way everyone, including the ants, are far from the door, though the turtles excellent vision makes them a bit problematic. Inquisitive, they seem only too eager to explore new places.

Full Moon

 The geometric glows are from a light in Dave & Dan's shining through the "decorative" blocks in the back wall.

The light is the night light in the kitchen.

In our younger day, we'd pull a mattress onto the veranda and sleep out. Now, letting the grass grow and several watering bowls for turtles, there're ("there's" for the rest of you) too many mosquitoes. 

The Fool On the Hill

This is my first full-fledged "trip" in over 30 years. 6 grams. I can remember a time when I thought this was something I should do annually.

When, several years ago I began my search for a guide, I  hoped to alleviate my anxiety around dying. As an agnostic I've no concerns about an afterlife, but when I thought about utilizing the option of Medical Aid in Dying (MAID) in order to avoid the excruciating pain of another heart attack, I felt a deep-seated fear that was too strong to transcend.

A lot has changed since I arrived in October of '23. The fear has eased, or, at least has appeared to. Still, I want to examine my motivations. Is consciousness, simply being aware, sufficient reason to continue. What if  a stroke disables me and I cannot take the drugs of MAID? 

It has taken a long time to get on hospice. And the fact that I am entitles me to MAID. But when?

Hopefully, today's journey on psilocybin provided some insight.

The Results

This was the smoothest, most benign trip I've had since 50 years ago in the jungle at Palenque. Liftoff was feather-lite, a gentle ascent into euphoria.

Once there however, it seemed intent on showing me scenarios in which I was helping or leading groups of refugees. Intent on perusing the basis of my anxiety around death, I kept shaking myself out of the altruistic reveries and trying to focus. It was not to be. 

After the first hour I asked for a two capsule booster. Then, every time they, there were two, came to check on me, I was offered two more...which I eagerly accepted....4 times in all for a total of 6 grams. I hadn't realized how starved I was for the experience. And having competent support made cutting in the after-burner feel comfortable.

One of the guides said she found me crying pretty intensively; she slid her hand in mine and I calmed somewhat. I didn't recall the specifics, but the sadness seemed to revolve around our separateness; that no matter how much you tell someone you love them, there's really no way for them to feel it.

After six hours it began to wind down. The guides took their leave and Michelle and I spent a pleasant evening together.

The main benefit, as is usual for psychedelics for me, was a falling away of the societal strictures and a sense of "cohering," as if my parts were, once again, perfectly fitted together.

Photo: Alex Abair from iNaturalist

Psilocybe cubensis

commonly grows on dung