Mushroom Heart
oil on paper
8" x 6"
I’ve read the more you do psychedelics the harder it is to come back to the “real” world. This last mushroom trip has been the hardest to return from. I can't really explain the portal in which I entered, but I will try. My body felt huge, like the size of a mountain, or maybe one of the big sea stacks in Trinidad, like Grandmother Rock. I could hold everyone's feelings in this new container. It was like I was the keeper of all my loved ones' sadness and experiences - they chose me to camp out in and I met them with complete empathy and unconditional love. It wasn't a burden, in fact it was what I was put here for, I was built for this. And then you came to me, like a gust of warm wind sweeping through my body and landing in my heart. You were so sad though, your heavy lip trembled and your ambivalent eyes welled with tears. Your sadness had a shape and it swam around in my chest and then I started crying. I cried for a long time. These weren't just my tears, they were tears of all my loved ones and for the Earth. I was a conduit and it was all so beautiful and perfect and lonely. My compassion and understanding poured out of my eyes like a flood and everything was exactly how it was supposed to be. Nothing needed to change.

And now I am back here, trying to integrate my mushroom heart with my every day heart, as she advises, “And the nullifying, defeating, negating, repeating, joy of life.”

*Quoted is Joanna Newsom from Time as a Symptom