Suit on a trip

If you’re a frequent reader of my whale blog, you know that I like to spend time outdoors, enjoying Nature. Living in Oregon, there are ample opportunities to explore Her wonders all around me. One of my favorite outdoor activities is mushroom hunting, and it is in regards to a recent excursion that I write today.

Typically, I search for morels or a few different types of chanterelles, occasionally stumbling across something more exotic. In any case, my targets are almost exclusively culinary, and I tend to leave the psychoactive varieties alone when I do happen upon them.

However, I had been experiencing some troubles in my life (my pool table needed re-felting, some Vespa parts I ordered never arrived, and a persistently sore wrist was hampering DJ gigs), so when I pushed aside a scrubby fern and saw what looked like a familiar Psilocybe stuntzii (commonly known as Stuntz’s blue legs) it only took a few moments of debating myself before I gave in, plucking the little fellow from his perch and tossing him in my sack.

I thought no more of it until later that evening when I was back at home, sorting through my take for the day. I was admiring a tasty-looking chicken-of-the-woods when I suddenly remembered the stuntzii. I dug my hand deep into the sack and found it hiding in the corner, hoping to evade consumption. I should have taken that as a sign, but instead I happily scarfed it down, dirt and all, that being my usual practice due to a previous experience where I made what I call a “Gaia pact” with the One-Soul.

While I am not a heavy drugs user, I am also not a stranger to psychedelic experiences, and have found them to be extremely useful for opening my mind to greater truths, leading me to question established norms, and inspiring my creativity in unimaginable ways. However, none of my previous experiences had prepared me for what was to come.

The first thing that I noticed was how strange my clothes felt. I was only wearing my typical hiking gear. But before I knew it, I was tearing my tie-dye t-shirt off, and hopping towards my closet while simultaneously trying to extract myself from my cargo shorts. Freed from those shaggy garments, I reached deep into the closet and found my one nice suit, which I typically only wear for job interviews and government auctions. As I buttoned the jacket and pulled the necktie tightly around my throat, I began to feel much better.

Refreshed, I looked around at my surroundings and noticed that my typically colorful bedroom seemed much less saturated than usual. Even my collection of black-light posters was lifeless, and I had to check the bulb to make sure it was still functioning. Perplexed, I backed out of the room and down the hall to my home office.

The hum of the various machines in the office had a calming effect on me, and I found myself sitting down at my cluttered desk. In no time at all, I was organizing the mess, sorting everything according to a very well designed system I had invented in the moment. The clean appearance of the desk top felt encouraging, and I proceeded to open my laptop and do the same thing to its virtual counterpart. After that, I transitioned easily to updating my information in my bookkeeping software. I was astonished to find that I didn’t even need to dig receipts out of my old shoebox, as I found myself effortlessly able to recall every one of my expenses for the year, without a moment’s hesitation.

That being done, I decided I should move into the kitchen to eat. My hands traveled over the items in the fridge, seemingly of their own volition, picking out this and that, and assembling the meal before my eyes. It was only when the task was completed that I stepped back and realized the ratios of the food items perfectly corresponded to the FDA’s recommended daily allowances. Regardless, the entire meal had the “flavor” of unsalted crackers, but I wasn’t bothered by this.

I wish that there was even more to tell you about this unusual experience, but by this time it was nearly 8:00 PM, and soon I found myself in my bed, anticipating a good night’s rest.

The next morning, I awoke feeling mostly back to normal, aside from a nagging feeling that we are all isolated individuals. I moved on with my life as usual, and didn’t think much about the events of that night, until one day a few weeks later, when a letter arrived in my mailbox confirming that I had registered as a Republican online.

Dr. dalas verdugo
Portland, OR

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