Walking Without Rhythm

So I recently had my annual physical. It went well enough, no problems. The doctor always asks if anything has changed since last year; go to any other doctor?, taking any other medication?, etc. They now also ask a lot of psychological questions as well. I wonder how many people just say “oh everything is the same”, “everything is fine”, and the like. I know I always did. So I told him I had been micro-dosing psilocybin for reasons that really should be another post. He knew a little about it and seemed to think if it was helpful then why not. So here’s a little background.

On Good Friday, April 20, 1962 at Boston Universities Marsh Chapel, an experiment was conducted. Ten divinity school students got a placebo and 10 others received a dose of psilocybin. The goal was to see whether psilocybin, the active ingredient in ‘magic mushrooms’ could induce religious or mystical experiences. Although the study was flawed, the participants described it as spiritually significant and life-changing and still felt that way at a 25 year follow up.

Micro-dosing is taking a very small amount of psilocybin via mushroom. 25 mg would be a typical dose. The goal is to not feel anything from it. No trip or hallucinations or mystical experiences or anything like that. What it does for most people is to gradually, over time, help them to be able to understand, deal with, or forgive things. Definitely become more in tune with emotions. So, a little more background on my one and only prior experience with psilocybin.

When we were seniors in high school, my friend Kenny and I went to Boston University one weekend to visit our friend Rick. Really he was Kenny’s friend, but I knew him. He was a year ahead of us and in his first year at BU. That afternoon we took what was described as pharmaceutical Psilocybin. Other than knowing the name, I had absolutely no idea what it would do. I took one tab and I believe they split one. We went to a football game but after about an hour it became clear to me I needed to go lie down and we went back to the dorm. As I was laying on someones dorm bed I remember thinking if I’m gonna die just let it happen. I have a distinct memory of being in a ‘place’; maybe like the proverbial tunnel with a light at the end but that’s not 100% clear. I was talking to someone; someone I definitely knew but just couldn’t remember their name or how I knew them. Not really talking but more like communicating somehow. He told me I couldn’t stay and would be returning. The next memory is of being sucked back into my body. I’ve always likened it to sucking jello off of a spoon into your mouth; that kind of feeling. My heart was racing but slowly returned to normal. The effects gradually wore off after about 8 hours. We took the bus back home on Sunday.

Twenty years later, give or take, I’m married with 2 sons and have long since stopped thinking about anything from my ‘hippie’ days. I’m playing in the living room with my 4 year old and we are clowning around wearing sunglasses. He looks at me and very seriously asks “dad, remember when you visited me at that place? Where was that?” Like a bolt of lightning, my memory returned to that time at BU so many years before and I realized who it was that I had been ‘talking’ to. I still get chills thinking about it.

That experience back in the early seventies was undoubtedly a catalyst, or a next step, to a lifelong interest in spirituality and out-of-body experiences. But that also should be a story for another time.