I Did Mushrooms in a Garden and Now I Understand Life

My 4th of July fireworks came in the form of my engine exploding in my 2003 Saturn Ion. Okay, well it didn’t actually explode, but it threw a rod and died which is basically the same thing. I live in an apartment, so I didn’t have anywhere I could have it towed. On the advice of some friends and family members, I decided to leave it where it was since it was legally parked and they insisted it would be fine. It wasn’t fine. It was impounded about a week and a half later. *Pours out some bourbon for my baby, but not too much because this sh– is expensive*

I mourned my loss like any loss, wallowing in depression for a few weeks, until my cousin got sick of me and decided to cheer me up by any means (read: drugs). We had talked a few times about her mushroom trips and I’d told her that I’d never done them, but was curious about trying them, so when she got her hands on some she decided to share the wealth to help pull me out of my funk. We met up with a friend of hers and went to Kubota Garden, a public Japanese garden near my apartment, because drugs are always better when you do them in groups in nature.

Note: If you couldn’t tell by title, yes this is absolutely going to be a post about doing drugs and I absolutely intend to glorify drug use all throughout it. If that bothers you, you should’ve stopped reading a long time ago, but there’s no time like the present.

We got to the garden, did our mushrooms and started exploring. For like 30-ish minutes, we walked through the garden, touching trees, looking at waterfalls, etc. My cousin and her friend – both of whom are experienced mushroom-doers and had taken way more than me – couldn’t stop laughing and talking about how everything was moving. I felt nothing and told my cousin I thought her mushrooms were trash and was beefin’ about this bogus mission she brought me on. Then, roughly six minutes later, I felt everything.

The high came on intense and fast. Suddenly all of the colors in the world were brighter and more vivid, the trees were swaying, the moss was oozing down the sides of rocks, and I felt like I was floating. But I also started feeling dizzy and nauseous, which apparently is a thing that can happen when you eat wild fungi to get high. I took a few hits of somebody’s weed pen which cured the nausea and dizziness and afterward, I felt my brain reconstructing every thought I’d ever thought. It was an amazing feeling. All my thoughts were clear and I felt lighter, freer and more inspired than I’d felt in a long, long time.

As I was sitting there, loving the surge of energy and creativity I felt coursing through me, I started thinking about how I would love to feel this feeling everyday. I wondered how I could recreate this feeling, this high, and if it was possible to feel like this when I wasn’t high. What did I need to do to always have moments like this? And then I realized that, while I was sitting there contemplating how to hold onto this moment, the moment was passing. And I was so consumed with thinking about the moment and what comes after that I was missing it.

I realized that life is made up of moments, of moments that linger, of fleeting moments, of moments that vanish before you can fully appreciate their presence, and none of these moments do we truly get to “keep”. And when I apply this thinking to relationships – both romantic and platonic – and other parts of my life, I realized how much more beautiful life is when I think of it as a series of individual moments, all with varying impact and meaning, than seeing it as a bunch of puzzle pieces I’m trying to force together.

Enjoy the moments.

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