Dancing with Reality: A Journey Through Time, Nature, and Magic Mushrooms

An excerpt from The Midlife Shift

I looked at my watch; it was still 9:45 a.m.

Nothing was happening beyond my mouth drying up, a slight rise in body temperature, and having to squint from the glaring sunlight.

I put on my sunglasses, sat for a while, and then looked at my watch again. It was only 10:15 a.m., and time was moving slowly. I was now getting frustrated that the effects of the mushrooms were not that strong and wondered if these mushrooms were past their sell-by date.

I decided to gobble up the remaining hundred grams in the bag. My impatience and striving were kicking in, even when I was meant to relax and revere the experience.

Thirty minutes later, I started to feel heavier, and the light was now even brighter. My knees went slightly weak, but I was still very much not “turned on” yet as the infamous Timothy Leary said many years ago.

Earlier in the week, I’d had an in-depth conversation about having a successful shrooms trip with an American friend I’d met in the Paris writing programme. He urged me not to control things but to let go, sit still, and allow the mushrooms to do the work. Following his advice, I relaxed, and soon, the light became so bright that I was wincing through my sunglasses.

I also became extremely heavy, needing to move myself consciously. As I got up, I felt like throwing up. I’d read that nausea meant fear, so I calmed myself again by remembering that there was nothing to be afraid of. Quickly, the nausea disappeared. A theme apparent throughout the day was that whatever I thought of immediately manifested and became a reality. The effects of the psilocybin were finally kicking in.

Looking at the dwarf palm trees on my left, I was enthralled by their movement. They were dancing to the rhythm of the lounge music that blared out. Their large stems and leaves were moving, laughing, and somehow enticing me to join. Looking up, I saw that the skyline was one huge canvas of masterful art—intense and beautiful blue with small willowy clouds scattered around.

It seemed that whatever I looked at got magnified. The details I saw were intricate and amazing, as if I were simultaneously using both a telescope and a microscope.

When I closed my eyes, I felt bliss, an inner peace percolating. I also had a fixed smile on my face and could feel the weight of my cheeks creating that smile, which was confirmed afterwards when I saw pictures of myself. (Yes, I took selfies throughout the day.)

I wasn’t aware of the time anymore, but what felt like a few minutes later, I felt restless and tried to get up. Again, I felt heavy, as if I were wearing my body like a Roman soldier would bear his suit of armour. I trudged toward the pool, and the tiles I stepped on seemed more prominent and detailed than I had ever noticed. Was that dark brown line at the edge of the right side of the pool always there?

Then, there was the attack of vibrant colours from everything around me, both within the pool and in the garden it overlooked. I thought I was seeing new colours. Before getting into the pool, I turned to the plants behind me. The luscious white flowers sprouting out seemed to smile, inviting me to come over to their side.

When I got closer, I felt a loving feeling within me. I sound like a typical New Age dabbler, but that’s how I felt around them. They didn’t turn out to be white tulips, but Mussaenda Philippics Aurora, my wife, would inform me later. They had been there for four years, but that was the first time I had noticed them. Still, they told me they’d always be there, ready and waiting to offer me love in return.

I then walked toward the front end of the garden, an area reserved for the orchids that we had spent so much time and money on. I picked up a red orchid flower that had fallen onto the ground. I looked closely at it but found it slightly repugnant and immediately left the orchid area. There was something that I didn’t like about them. Perhaps they had become the symbol of arrogance, materialism, and superficial aesthetics—a metaphor for how I often viewed my life. They didn’t have the simplicity, purity, and love the other plants showed.

I then turned my attention to a line of small red flowers that rested on the meandering branches of the small cactus tree. Again, the details that I was noticing were incredible. Where did these squarish red flowers placed on the snake-like roots come from? I spent what seemed like hours (though it was probably only a few minutes) observing every fine detail of this unique plant, which I'd also ignored over the last few years. They were called Euphorbia milii.

I was getting hot and needed to cool myself, so I walked down the pool’s wide stairway and immersed half of my body. I looked up at the skyline again, and birds buzzed around me. They were everywhere, whether high in the sky or closer to me on the ground. Suddenly, three big, scary black and white crows with sinister looks about them circled above me. They were not as majestic as the larger yellow kites that soared above them.

Before I could unpack that, one small robin flew within inches of my face. All the birds seemed to be playing with me, happy that I visited their world. Just as I wondered why I hadn’t seen a white seagull, my favourite bird, one landed on the green rooftop of a neighbour’s house, did a twirl, and then flew off.

Again, inexplicably, it was as if anytime I thought of something, it would materialise right before me.