May the Microforce Be With You
Photo Courtesy of Juris Kraulis/Shutterstock
Unlike the well-known Grateful Dead song, lately, it occurs to me…what a short, commonplace jaunt this has been.
I just started microdosing psilocybin, the psychoactive ingredient in “magic” mushrooms. I researched two different dosing schedules, the Paul Stamets and Fadiman protocols, and decided on the Fadiman Protocol. Every three days I consume a .1g dose of locally grown Psilocybe cubensis (a.k.a. “Penis Envy”).
Having never tripped, I can affirm that microdosing has been entirely underwhelming. When compared to having an alcoholic drink or hitting a joint, I simply don’t feel any different. Then again, microdosing isn’t about short-term pursuits with short-term results. This is a long game, with lasting effects on one’s well-being.
Yet, if I’ve just started microdosing and I’m not feeling distinct changes, how can I claim enduring impacts? My dreams have adjusted! Unlike the PTSD-filled nightmares that usually assault my sleep, a recent post-microdose dream spoke to me like no other. I make no apologies for geeking out to the Star Wars universe…
Photo Courtesy of Peter Ekvall/Star Wars
A breathtaking planet, alive with green continents and oceans of the deepest blue. Rising over an island next to a mainland, the sun casts a warming glow upon a humble yet graceful temple. Surrounding the temple are vast gardens with countless varieties of flowers in full bloom. Birds and insects utilize the gentle breeze to begin their routines as daylight returns to the island - a perfect, remote location for Jedi to become One with the ways of the Force.
Standing in a courtyard center, an ancient Jedi Master smiles as two young Jedi Knights approach and bow. After years of apprenticeship, training, and enlightenment, the two are experienced and savvy templars, having often worked together. However, they now compete for advancement to the next echelon, where only one will emerge with the title of “Jedi Master.”
“Your final trial is simple,” the master says. “One of you will prune and tidy the plants in the northern garden, the other to the south. You may employ whatever methods and instruments you like, including the Force. You have until sundown, at which time the Force will determine the outcome.” The knights bow once again, smile as they grasp each other’s forearms, then turn away to begin.
The Jedi in the southern garden walks to its center, sits, and meditates. Time passes and, gradually, the entire area begins to stir. Leaves and debris lift from the soil, swirling in beautiful, symmetrical maelstroms. Across the grounds, wilted petals and threatening pests shed from the greenery, while dirt and mulch return to their places at the base of stalks. Hours lapse and the Force strains the limits of the Jedi’s abilities. Eventually, the detritus settles into perfect compost piles, and the southern gardens reflect the efforts undertaken. The knight, drenched in sweat, slowly emerges from the trance and looks to the north to compare the progress of the challenge.
Upon discharge of the task, the other Jedi retrieves a rake, pruning snips, and other gardening tools. Once at the entrance to the extensive northern landscaping, the knight commences trimming. Plant by plant, leaf by leaf, flower by flower, the Jedi walks the garden, shaping, docking, and grooming as needed. Headway is halted regularly to collect refuse for reclamation, and the sun passes its apex without sympathy. Nevertheless, the progress is swift for what appears to be a tedious struggle. By late day, all of the work to the north is similarly accomplished, and the two gardens appear identically beautiful.
As dusk approaches, the knights return to the Jedi Master, and the three meditate together beneath the temple. In the fading light, the wizened master opens his eyes and looks at each knight individually before finally speaking. “Each of you has succeeded in accomplishing the final trial put before you. As you may suspect, the task was not just about weeding our gardens. Regardless, you both performed admirably, and you bring great credit to the Jedi Order!”
The sun’s last rays flee the temple grounds, and the Jedi Master sighs. “However, at this time, only one of you will be called Master. The other is not shamed or defeated, only gifted another opportunity to learn from this present one.” Both knights bow their heads in understanding and raise them just as quickly to face the decision.
“One of you used only the Force to prune their garden. The other pruned their garden while using the Force. Therefore, the Force has chosen its next Master.”
At this point, my dream ended without me learning the Force’s verdict. Nonetheless, the lesson is clear. But is it simply the message from a random dream or from the influence of microdoses and psilocybin? All I know is that my own daily gardening routine is now novel to me. I no longer feel required to complete a chore within a certain amount of time. Now, instead, I take the time to enjoy “weeding” the mushrooms.
