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Day 3 of 107: Recollecting
Mushroom tea was a nice time. Our friends really went out of their way to take care of us, and I really appreciated the effort they took to make sure we had fun. I'm still synthesizing the experience, but overall I think it was a good chance to check in with myself.
I learned some of the things I could be better with, like reading the intentions or mood of a room. I'm primed to look out for signs of discontentment or unspoken hostility, and if I let myself I'll slip into fawning behavior to solve it. It's like my brain decides that uncertainty = anger, discontentment, resentment and then shifts into problem-solving mode. Sometimes, people just want to be left alone to their own process. Sometimes, people are fine. Besides, it's not always my job to make sure people are OK. Sometimes it's OK to just be available for whatever people need.
I think I've internalized this idea that I'm on SUCH a different wavelength from other people that it's made me afraid of even trying to connect with them or express myself with the expectation someone else will understand. So I've stopped being as observant as I used to be; there's no need when I won't understand what someone's about or I just assume they won't get whatever I'm talking about. This probably happens to a lot of neurodivergent people, where it's tough to calibrate just where our differences diverge from most people. I mean, yes, I see the world in a different way than most, but is it really that incomprehensible? No.
It's just difficult. I mean, not rocket-science difficult, but figuring out the wavelength you're on, the wavelength someone else is on, and how it differs takes a lot of energy. With rejection-sensitive dysphoria in the mix, every mistake gets magnified. It takes more energy to reckon with that, and once the energy is gone the defeatist talk sets in. I think I've spent a lot of time listening to that kind of talk when it's not true. I've been running this story that feels more based on fear than reality.
My best friend had a pretty intense trip that I think he's still sorting through. We'll call him K. My other tea friends are R. and G.; they're roommates and close friends. K. is an internal person, so he needs space whenever he gets overwhelmed. R. is a member of a local church that has permission by the state to grow and give mushrooms to its congregation, which is a pretty sweet deal. They have different strains and types you can get, with different kinds of effects. For this particular trip, we tried the OG strain cooked up by some of the trailblazers in the psychonautic field.
R. made a pretty decent tea out of the shrooms, and we felt the effects pretty quickly. Nice lifty sensation in the body, and then the visual hallucinations hit fast and strong. It was at this point that K. needed to go out on the couch for a while; we hung out on the patio and chatted, watched an episode of Pete and Pete (this was G's suggestion), then a few animal videos on YouTube. After a few hours, we went inside to watch this animated spectacle called Redline. It's...amazing, but I couldn't describe it if I tried. I'll definitely be looking it up later; there's a lot of lore around what we see in the animation, and it sounds like the world is pretty cool.
The tapering down started after 3 - 4 hours, and I kept getting this weird 'fake-out' feeling where I thought the shrooms were done but then something would happen to tell me it wasn't. Ultimately, my phone proved to be the best marker. Once the letter stopped moving around on the screen and I could close my eyes without trippy visuals, I knew it was over.
Throughout the trip, I recognized things that called to me in particular -- animals, greenery, harmony with nature. The more I thought of myself as a forest-creature, someone who brings wisdom from Elsewhere to help those Here, the more it fit. There was a time where it felt like I was the keeper of knowledge that had been somewhat lost to time. So much has changed in the world in such a short time, and it feels important to capture the things I remember about the world before they're gone. I understand the cycle of nostalgia that reliably comes up for people. I don't think we miss what came before us; but we do want to see what lessons are worth taking from our pasts before they become too hazy and indistinct. I don't necessarily want to go back to some golden age of childhood, but it does feel like the ability to fully inhabit the space you're in is all but disappearing now that there are constant methods of distraction available. I remember being able to hide in the aisles of my public library for hours, checking out books and researching things, going home to read more, no one knowing where I was or what I was doing. Now, pockets of time where you're truly alone are so fleeting. There's no expectation of solitude these days, and with the pandemic of loneliness we've come to view solitude as a bad thing.
I think I prefer solitude, all things considered. But that's a preference increasingly out of step with today's world. I get why; we're a social species, and ultimately we need each other. But sometimes I wish I just had a week where I could be "off the grid", doing what I want with deep focus.
So that's what I'll be working on for the next week or so. Productive, fulfilling work in solitude. We'll see what comes out of it.
I'll have more to say tomorrow.
I learned some of the things I could be better with, like reading the intentions or mood of a room. I'm primed to look out for signs of discontentment or unspoken hostility, and if I let myself I'll slip into fawning behavior to solve it. It's like my brain decides that uncertainty = anger, discontentment, resentment and then shifts into problem-solving mode. Sometimes, people just want to be left alone to their own process. Sometimes, people are fine. Besides, it's not always my job to make sure people are OK. Sometimes it's OK to just be available for whatever people need.
I think I've internalized this idea that I'm on SUCH a different wavelength from other people that it's made me afraid of even trying to connect with them or express myself with the expectation someone else will understand. So I've stopped being as observant as I used to be; there's no need when I won't understand what someone's about or I just assume they won't get whatever I'm talking about. This probably happens to a lot of neurodivergent people, where it's tough to calibrate just where our differences diverge from most people. I mean, yes, I see the world in a different way than most, but is it really that incomprehensible? No.
It's just difficult. I mean, not rocket-science difficult, but figuring out the wavelength you're on, the wavelength someone else is on, and how it differs takes a lot of energy. With rejection-sensitive dysphoria in the mix, every mistake gets magnified. It takes more energy to reckon with that, and once the energy is gone the defeatist talk sets in. I think I've spent a lot of time listening to that kind of talk when it's not true. I've been running this story that feels more based on fear than reality.
My best friend had a pretty intense trip that I think he's still sorting through. We'll call him K. My other tea friends are R. and G.; they're roommates and close friends. K. is an internal person, so he needs space whenever he gets overwhelmed. R. is a member of a local church that has permission by the state to grow and give mushrooms to its congregation, which is a pretty sweet deal. They have different strains and types you can get, with different kinds of effects. For this particular trip, we tried the OG strain cooked up by some of the trailblazers in the psychonautic field.
R. made a pretty decent tea out of the shrooms, and we felt the effects pretty quickly. Nice lifty sensation in the body, and then the visual hallucinations hit fast and strong. It was at this point that K. needed to go out on the couch for a while; we hung out on the patio and chatted, watched an episode of Pete and Pete (this was G's suggestion), then a few animal videos on YouTube. After a few hours, we went inside to watch this animated spectacle called Redline. It's...amazing, but I couldn't describe it if I tried. I'll definitely be looking it up later; there's a lot of lore around what we see in the animation, and it sounds like the world is pretty cool.
The tapering down started after 3 - 4 hours, and I kept getting this weird 'fake-out' feeling where I thought the shrooms were done but then something would happen to tell me it wasn't. Ultimately, my phone proved to be the best marker. Once the letter stopped moving around on the screen and I could close my eyes without trippy visuals, I knew it was over.
Throughout the trip, I recognized things that called to me in particular -- animals, greenery, harmony with nature. The more I thought of myself as a forest-creature, someone who brings wisdom from Elsewhere to help those Here, the more it fit. There was a time where it felt like I was the keeper of knowledge that had been somewhat lost to time. So much has changed in the world in such a short time, and it feels important to capture the things I remember about the world before they're gone. I understand the cycle of nostalgia that reliably comes up for people. I don't think we miss what came before us; but we do want to see what lessons are worth taking from our pasts before they become too hazy and indistinct. I don't necessarily want to go back to some golden age of childhood, but it does feel like the ability to fully inhabit the space you're in is all but disappearing now that there are constant methods of distraction available. I remember being able to hide in the aisles of my public library for hours, checking out books and researching things, going home to read more, no one knowing where I was or what I was doing. Now, pockets of time where you're truly alone are so fleeting. There's no expectation of solitude these days, and with the pandemic of loneliness we've come to view solitude as a bad thing.
I think I prefer solitude, all things considered. But that's a preference increasingly out of step with today's world. I get why; we're a social species, and ultimately we need each other. But sometimes I wish I just had a week where I could be "off the grid", doing what I want with deep focus.
So that's what I'll be working on for the next week or so. Productive, fulfilling work in solitude. We'll see what comes out of it.
I'll have more to say tomorrow.