Have you heard about the city girl who decided to move to the country because she wanted to live in nature? First, she cut down trees to build her house. Then she sculpted the land and watered it relentlessly. Finally, she crafted a strategic plan to conquer ticks and other annoying insects.
Guilty as described!
Want to turn an uptown city girl into an environmental advocate? Feed her magic mushrooms.
Psilocybin, the potent compound in certain mushrooms, is well-known for giving you a profound sensory connection with nature. In case that sounds academic, let me infuse it with some energy by sharing a conversation I had with a tree. (Yes, a tree. No, I’m not crazy.)
On an ordinary day, this particular old backyard tree is not an attention-grabber. It does not stand out in an unusual way, although it does boast a dark, rugged façade.
But this was no ordinary day. Having ingested a moderate journey dose of Mazatapec mushrooms, I took a break from my contemplative position on a beanbag in front of the fireplace. I grabbed my down jacket for a stroll around the yard.
I immediately stopped in front of the aforementioned familiar tree. The tree’s heavily-textured bark was undulating in a mesmerizing dance, gracefully moving up and down in rhythmic patterns. Other elements in the yard sat in contrasting stillness, enabling my exclusive communion with this animated tree.
The tree then spoke: “I adorn your yard with beauty, and I know you appreciate that. I will continue to be of service to you in this way. But in exchange, I ask that you see me more deeply. I mean, really see me. Observe how at this moment I am generating the oxygen you need. Feel my vibrant life force. Without me there is no balance in your world.”
With a chill rising in the air, I pulled myself away from the tree’s hypnotic charm, determined to return to my warm perch in front of the fireplace. I walked across the weather-beaten planks of the outdoor deck, which bear the marks of many seasons of summer activity.
“Hang on, girl!” I heard from below.
I looked down at the planks. Their external edges had the familiar dull, gray-brown finish and an occasional protruding nail head. But now, the planks were semi-transparent, their insides pulsating actively with green, worm-like shapes. A vivid tapestry of cellular existence was stunningly magnified for me.
Then, the planks also spoke: “Notice us, too! We’ve been blessed with traits that make us the perfect planks for your deck. Continue to stomp on us. Paint us too, if you want. Seriously, we have no problem with that. But please: see us more deeply. Underneath this varnish, we are alive. We have an ancient lineage and a long history living with our natural forest families. Appreciate what we are and where we come from more fully.”
Humbled, I went inside and noticed that the fire’s lively blaze had diminished while I was out. I reached for yet another one of those plastic sacks of cut firewood that we purchase at the market. As I tossed each perfectly-measured, chopped log onto the embers, I thanked each one for sharing its unique grace, glow, and crackle.
There’s nothing like a ‘shroom to put your gratitude for the natural world on steroids!
P.S. If you’re interested in learning more about the magic of mushrooms, watch Fantastic Fungi on Netflix. Absolutely fascinating!
