"Hey Ben, how was your vacation?" I ask. Given my poor track record with plants, he wisely spent time with Gwen at her nursery.
"Oh it was grand, got a trimming, some root work done and spent time with a lovely fellows Ficus." he sighs with contentment.
"What have you been up to boss?"
"Oh the usual, doing crosswords, remodeling the living room, took a trip myself-"
"Where to?" he asks and I have to laugh at my bit of humor.
" I had been toying with using psilocybin to ease my depression."
"Oh that kind of trip. Did it work?" he asks with anticipation.
" I think so. It was not a 'heroic dose'- I would not have survived that, but it was intense enough," I offer in a causal tone, toying with my tea cup and pause for the right words to describe a new shift in perception.
"I'm more centered," I say at last.
Oddly enough, the bursitis in my hip is mostly gone and I'm not interested in drinking. Psychedelics aren't known to help with inflammations, so I suspect some subconscious issue was resolved.
The experience itself was mostly a visual reaction, wild kaleidoscope imagery when I closed my eyes and everything shimmering when I opened them. Most of the time was spent being peacefully stoned. My facilitator thought that disappointing. Not to me.
"For some people not giving a shit is a vacation," I assured her.
" I guess we both had a good trip," Ben says.
"Yes indeed."
