Fans of Fungus: The Greatest Mushroom Story Ever

psilocybin mushroom greatest story ever

Classroom propaganda over-prepared me for strangers giving me free drugs – with one exception – this is a true story of psilocybin & synchronicity.

Thankfully, due to my age and because my family made frequent relocations during my childhood, I managed to escape the terrible clutches of DARE. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t get earloads of puritanical propaganda in school. Instead of a thug with a badge I was given my social conditioning by gym teachers and school nurses in what they called ‘health class’.

The first of these lessons I received was delivered by a man who wore incredible tight and incredibly short polyester short pants. He also had a bizarre fascination with the pituitary gland and a frighteningly creepy takeĀ on menstruation. That made it pretty easy for me to dismiss whatever he tried to teach me, so when later brain-scrubbers took their shot at it I found myself immune to their bullshit thanksĀ to this association.

Sometimes you escape having your thoughts manufactured for you in the strangest of ways.

All of those classroom propagandists also tried to prepare me for what to do in the event that a stranger would randomly offer me drugs. Unfortunately, that has only ever happened to me once. And from asking around I have gathered that even once is above average. But in that one time’s defense, it was totally fucking awesome.

This was probably in 1999, or at least I was partying like it was. Myself and two friends had split seven grams of magic mushrooms in the late evening. By 10pm we were fully peaking and had wandered to a nearby park.

We had sprawled out on a picnic table, one on each seat and on the table, and were staring into the swirling kaleidoscope of the night sky as it melted, congealed, sparkled and wobbled in all of it’s glory. The park was located adjacent to the downtown area and had people coming and going at all hours, but we ignored them and they ignored us and everyone left that situation feeling good about how it had went down.

After a half hour or an hour or some other indeterminable amount of time had passed, we heard the ringing of a bell and the approach of a bicycle. A guy about out age came skidding right up to us and stood up, and we sat up in response. With a very serious expression, eyes wide and wild, he asks us…

“Hey, are you guys fans of fungus?”

Me and my two friends all thought the same thing at once – ‘oh shit, he knows…tha fuck is this?’.

Before we could escape being perplexed and paranoid about the situation enough to respond – the guy reaches into his pocket and then tosses what appeared to be a bag containing an eighth of mushrooms in my lap. Then he immediately pedaled off into the night without another word.

I put the baggie on the table and the three of us sat there on the benches staring at it in silent awe for moments or minutes. Then it sort of dawned on us that there might be a reason he was ditching his valuable drugs and scurrying off so quickly, and decided on the only reasonable course of action.

We split them up and ate them.

I did save a small piece of stem, however, so that we could prove to ourselves in the future that this had all actually happened, since we were certain we had eaten every last crumb of the first batch.

And then nothing bad happened at all.

Instead we had lots of fun. We wandered off to other parks and eventually found a giant pine tree of some sorts, which we climbed at least two and a half stories up into. We sat there until we started the mushrooms started to wane, sometimes talking about the mysteries of existence, sometimes making jokes and laughing, and sometimes sitting in silent reverence of our very being and everything around us. By the time we climbed out we were covered in so much sap it would be a week before the last remnants were completely washed away from skin and hair.

But that is the worst thing that happened. A stranger randomly offered us drugs, the same drugs we were already on by some cosmic coincidence, and nothing bad happened. We didn’t get poisoned. We didn’t become helpless mushroom fiends sucking dick or selling flat screens stolen from Wal Mart to get our next fungal fix. None of the stuff that the creepy man in the tight orange shorts and his propagandist predecessors said would happen actually did happen.

That is not to say it couldn’t. If someone approached my with some free crack, I probably would not take it, even if I was already on crack. Which I wouldn’t be. I did that shit exactly once and it it totally fucking sucked. The point is – just about everything you were taught about drugs were lies that were meant to scare you. Scared people make irrational choices. Like becoming crackheads. If we really want to reduce usage and addiction of the most harmful drugs, as well as decrease the potential dangers of the safer ones, these lies need to stop.

In fact some drugs have the ability to crack open all of these lies and reveal the truth of the propaganda and the prohibitionists spreading it. It reveals a vast network of scared, misinformed and unexperienced people enforcing the agenda of those who are afraid of what we might see if we all truly opened our minds to the world around us.

Fight the power – blow your own mind!

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