The delight of the real

Rather than mushrooms / psilocybin, I’m going to use LSD for my next therapy session.

LSD is cheaper and easier to obtain, but also more deeply affecting even at the equivalent dose, and much longer lasting (up to 12 hours, rather than 4-6) – which makes it a bit less tractable as a psychedelic of choice. I’ve a full day slated for it, rather than a few hours. We’ll see how it goes.

Having never taken LSD in my life, I thought it prudent to take a small sample dose when I first obtained it, to get a feel for the drug. I feel quite confident with psychedelics now (I have a rough idea of the terrain, as it were); using the internationally recognised alcohol inebriation equivalence scale, I’d say I took enough to get me ‘a bit tipsy’.

This is a slice of my experience of that small, 100ug dose. At this dose there was a slight degree of visual distortion (irridescence and ‘breathing’), but only noticable when I paid attention. It was a light, clear, and pleasant experience, albeit one which came with a bit of a headache.

The Delight of the Real

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver, ‘Wild Geese’

It comes on unexpectedly, suddenly; subtly

Sat in the front room, an hour after dosing, wondering if I’m going to feel anything at all.

It comes on with a laugh; surprise, delight, escaping from my heart my throat my mouth, into the air into the room, bouncing briefly from the walls, the bookshelf, the houseplants the windows.

The world suddenly a delight. And nothing changed yet everything new, everything shining. Everything singing.

It had always shone. It had always been singing. But only now, only now with surprise and delight, I noticed; only now did I notice again.


I remember – I would have been 4 – being in a park with my family, autumn. I remember leaf mould, and yellow brown and red leaves on the ground, I remember conkers – conkers!, big and bold, opulent.

But no, no I don’t remember leaf mould and autumn leaves and conkers, these are words and ideas, all greased with ghosts and memories, but THIS, I remember THIS, the bold, beautiful THISNESS of the world, primary colours and rich textures and a world both open and endless and yet somehow also enfolding and intimate. In this memory, the world shines. It sings.

I laugh, brief; a burst of surprise, the shock of the new. Sunlight pours through the bay windows and sets the green and white of the spider plant alight; the warm wood floor calls out, lines and whorls, stretching luxurious across the room. The room… the room! Here all the time yet somehow never before met. Another laugh, another burst of wonder, the old white paint of the walls, the crack running across the ceiling, this tiny slice of the universe, shining and living and being, and me just another part of it, no more lost or precious than the spiderweb by the doorframe, the knot of cables by the television, the houseplant, on fire, by the window.

I am no longer the centre of my universe, and I have no way of telling you how blessed a feeling this is.

Eager, I lace up my trainers – trainers! Laces! Green and black and blue, playful fabric threads folded over and under, The THISNESS of them sparkles, not laces but fabric threads, rough-soft to touch, that can be woven this way and that and turned on themselves just so, to keep soft rubber bound to my feet. Trainers! Laces!

Eager, I lace up my trainers and head to the park, 30 seconds walk from my front door.

And the SKY…


The wheeling of gulls in the unbounded SKY, the light playing, playing on the lake. The people, the trees, the ducks pattering about on the paving. I stand delighted, the horizon rising up into the distant hills, the city beyond, the clouds, the sun, the SKY, this gorgeous opulent world, and all of it singing, singing as it always is and has been.

The breeze – the joy of the wind, the way the air itself can dance, can pull you along too, calling let’s play, let’s play, lets dance for the joy of yet another gifted day! – the breeze whirls around me and, embraced by the endless open world, I am no longer the centre of my universe.

I have no way of telling you how blessed a feeling this is.

Because I no longer matter. Because the world is bold, and gorgeous, opulent and glorious and absurd, and has no need of me. This universe will carry on in glory long after I am gone, just as it did long before I or any other human soul was born.

For the first time in a very, very long time, I am meeting the world honestly, on it’s own terms, and far from my human world or words; far from the space where everything is turned however subtly into a story about myself.

The universe is the universe, on it’s own terms, and is infinitely complex and varied, from the laces on my trainers and the knot of cables by the television, to the flight of geese against the glory of the sky. I do not matter.

I can breathe easy. I do not matter.