The Heroic Dose: My Magic Mushroom Awakening

This is the story of my first-ever “Heroic Dose” of magic mushrooms in the fall of 2022. It was only 6 months after I had tried psychedelics for the first time. They always scared me but my interest grew in recent years as I learned about the “psychedelic renaissance” and its profound impact on the field of mental health and other touted impacts on things like creativity, productivity, and spirituality. The more I learned, the greater my intrigue grew. Proponents like podcaster Tim Ferris illuminated the nuances of a field once relegated to the underground. My interest piqued upon reading the best-selling book “How To Change Your Mind” by renowned author Michael Pollan. Pollan’s book left no uncertainty as to the possible benefits of psychedelics and uncovered many of the false pretexts under which they were banned during Nixon’s battle against the rising counterculture of the 60’s. 

As I continued my research I learned about the various ways people could induce psychedelic experiences. One method stood out: The Heroic Dose. This term was coined by the renowned ethnobotanist, thinker, and psychonaut Terence McKenna. The procedure was simple. 5 grams of dried magic mushrooms taken on an empty stomach in silent darkness (or while blindfolded). To put this in perspective, the typical dose for a light to moderate mushroom trip ranges from 1-3 grams of dried mushrooms. At 3 grams, one should expect to have a pretty thorough trip. At 5 grams, the world as you know it ceases to exist. Proponents of the Heroic Dose praise its ability to create mystical experiences and psychological breakthroughs, often as the result of the dissolution of one’s ego.

The idea of the Heroic Dose both terrified and intrigued me. As I experimented with smaller doses of magic mushrooms (probably .5g to 2g), I only scratched the surface of their powers. I tested the landscape of sensory expansion through music and moderate visual hallucinations (especially with eyes closed). I found improved mental states through mood enhancements, increased empathy, heightened feelings of connection to others, and stronger creative thinking abilities. But at these moderate doses, I always maintained firm control over myself and my mind. From what I had read, the Heroic Dose would take me somewhere else entirely. I needed to be fully ready to undertake that kind of journey. I was in no rush.

My interest in psychedelics came in the wake of an especially challenging period of life, particularly in my career. The business I started 10 years earlier, an outdoors company in the fishing space, struggled to stay solvent. The whiplash of near failure at the onset of COVID, followed by 24 months of extreme growth, followed by another 18 months (at the time) of regression - and the accompanying cash shortages, layoffs, and week-to-week survival - pushed me to the brink of my endurance after a decade of ups and downs. Every challenge seemed to stack onto the previous one and I felt stuck in a loop of stress, fear, and uncertainty. My hope was that psychedelics might allow me to reset in a way that could help me endure the ongoing challenges that surely awaited.

By the time summer’s end approached I had done about four or five smaller doses of mushrooms. At this point they no longer intimidated me. If anything, I gained a new respect for them. But my curiosity continued to build. The Heroic Dose called to me louder than before. I felt ready. I just needed to find the right time. It turned out that the Jewish High Holidays were just a few weeks away. The High Holidays are infamously a time for introspection and self-improvement. I decided this period would be the perfect opportunity to journey into the unknown. I looked at the calendar and decided on September 22nd, three days before Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.

In the weeks leading up to my Heroic Dose I did not do a whole lot of preparation. I tried to balance readying myself with not psyching myself out. I read blog posts and watched YouTube videos about how to approach the experience. I set intentions. I meditated more often. I thought about what music I might want to accompany me. Many sources suggested having a “trip sitter” present to watch over you or help you through a challenging trip, but the thought of having a friend or family member around gave me more anxiety than the thought of going it alone. Plus I intended to have the experience in my bed with an eye mask and didn’t feel too worried about my physical safety. I also knew I wanted to be out of my house and near nature so I planned to stay at a cottage bordering a state park.

Before I knew it, September 22nd arrived. When I woke up that morning I didn’t think too much about my plans. I just tried to go about my day while doing my best to stay in a positive mental space. I got to the cottage around 5pm. I took out the small sandwich bag of dried mushrooms (4-5 mushrooms of various sizes) and set it on the counter. I stared at the bag and talked to it in my head. It's just you and me, I said. Looks like we’re really doing this, I said. This is what one does when faced with the potential destruction of one’s psyche. 

My heart pounded in my chest as my breath fluttered at the realization that those shrooms wanted nothing more than to gobble up my mind. I felt time bearing down on me. The urge to begin battled with my reluctance. I distracted myself with small tasks. Laundry. Dishes. A short walk outside with fresh air and lingering apprehensions.

More time passed and I recognized that I just continued to delay the inevitable. At 6:30pm I gathered enough composure to return to the kitchen, where I resumed staring at the bag of dried fungus. Doubts percolated. What if I had a bad trip? What if I did something dumb? What if I hurt myself? I felt like a kid staring over the edge of the high dive for the first time, convincing myself not to jump. I drank a bottle of water because it was something to do. That seemed to calm me down because as I swallowed the last swig and crushed the plastic bottle in a self-indulgent display of strength (I needed anything I could get), my fears eased enough to allow me to proceed

I opened the bag, picked the smallest looking stem, and began to chew. While the metaphor of chewing on cardboard might be overused, it is also accurate. And 5 grams of mushrooms was no small amount of cardboard to chew through. I stopped thinking about what the trip might be like and solely focused on the act of getting this mountain earthy, dry, substance into my stomach. As I finished the last cap I felt momentary relief that the chewing ended only for a fresh sense of dread to immediately grab hold. What had I just done? My chest tightened with the understanding that there was no turning back. I said aloud, “Here we go.”

In my research around Heroic Doses, I found one recurring piece of advice. In order for this experience to be a positive one, you have to let go. You can’t fight it. You must be willing to follow it wherever it takes you. I reminded myself of this intention just as those last words escaped my mind. “Here we go.” I said again, with more intention this time. With positive intention. And at that moment a new sense of calm took over me. I realized that what’s done is done and I can’t go back. All I can do is go forward. All I can do is let go.

I went outside on the deck. The cottage sat on top of a hill that overlooked a small lake in the distance. Trees lined the lake and surrounded the cottage on all sides. The deck faced east and the sun fell into the horizon on the other side of the house as daylight dwindled away. A hot tub rested just off the back of the deck, perfectly overlooking the natural landscape below. While I had no intention of getting all the way in, I decided to sit on the edge and put my feet in as I waited for the effects of the mycelium to permeate my body. I felt a mild tension in my stomach that seemed to be a combination of slight anxiety and the onset of the initial effects of the mushrooms. I followed Terence McKenna’s recommendation and took a few puffs of cannabis to help ease both nerves and nausea that might accompany the onset of the trip.

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Allow me to briefly pause and take a moment to talk about drugs. As I contemplated sharing this story, I hesitated to speak openly about something that our society still considers to be illicit and taboo (as well as illegal). Our culture suffers from a destructive relationship with drugs. We take for granted the fact that our views on the subject come from a century of propaganda and political agendas. We overlook that the federal and state governments have collectively spent over $4 trillion (4 TRILLION DOLLARS!!) in a War On Drugs where the current results are overcrowded (for-profit) prisons, increased levels of addiction and overdoses, limited resources for addicts, horrendous violence from criminal organizations like cartels, the production of dangerous synthetic drugs like fentanyl, uneven prosecutions of certain racial or ethnic groups, drastic reductions of personal freedoms, and massive amounts of lost tax revenues. It is perhaps the largest waste of resources in all of human history. Even the word “drugs” shrouds the fact that we are often talking about organic compounds that merely produce altered states of consciousness, which humanity has done throughout its entire existence in ways that positively influenced our thinking and beliefs.

When considering the fact that hundreds of millions of people could realize life-changing benefits if only they could access these compounds freely, it's hard to contemplate any reason to maintain such a preposterous approach. The audacity of any governing body to think that they should withhold, limit, or interfere with people freely accessing such impactful substances should anger us all. To make matters worse, the hypocrisy displayed in our government dictating which substances and procedures it allows and disallows does nothing but further ignite doubt in our institutions and their motives. Why is it that we grant one the freedom to consume as much alcohol as one desires, or to take drugs and undergo surgeries in hopes of resolving dysphorias (even in adolescents), while banning adults from consuming naturally growing therapeutic (even if mind-altering) substances at their own discretion? No rational explanation exists for such arbitrary distinctions in the regulation of human behaviors. 

So, in the end I am speaking openly about my experience in hopes of adding my voice to the growing number of voices aiming to destigmatize these powerful tools and advocate for their broad acceptance and legalization in ways that improve access for all. 

With that note, back to the story…

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About thirty minutes passed since I finished eating the mushrooms. I sat on the edge of the hot tub, patiently awaiting what came next. The sun sunk just to the edge of the horizon as the hot water made my feet tingle while the cool night air chilled my neck. The lights below the water changed colors and illuminated the bubbly surface. The foam swirled and sparkled in a spectacular spectrum that morphed from one hue to the next: blue, violet, red, green, yellow, back to blue. As I watched the colors move through the water it dawned on me that my sense of perception began to change. I turned my head from side to side as the world lagged behind my shifting gaze, reality blurring as I looked back and forth. The lights now looked rich and deep with a new intensity. I knew that the time to go inside and prepare for the next phase had arrived.

I pulled my feet from the water and noticed the stark contrast of the cold air on my hot skin. I stood up and calibrated my balance as I paused to find stability. I walked through the patio door and into the kitchen, stopping to grab a bottle of water from the fridge before heading to the bedroom. I moved a wireless speaker next to my bed, placed an eye mask on the nightstand, shut off the lights, and crawled under the covers. I shivered slightly as I searched for warmth and a comfortable position. I grabbed my phone. The app icons on my phone pulsated and swelled. Each icon sat in a halo of energy. I opened Spotify and found a playlist for the band Zusha that I pre-curated for this moment (Zusha, an incredible Jewish music duo known for their modern style of rich and complex harmonic layers accompanied by masterful melodies, was my choice for the playlist. I thought this element would help contribute to the spiritual elements of the trip I sought ahead of the holidays.)

As the sounds of Zusha filled the room, I attempted to text my wife and check-in. (She was apprehensive about this whole thing, but accepting of my desire to have this experience). The letters on the digital keypad danced and I hardly managed to connect my fingertip (and my thoughts) to the words I tried to create. I typed in short form: “Ding ok. Abt to go undr. Luv u.” I tried to find the kissy emoji but gave up. She replied. “Ok, Love you! Be safe!”

I set my phone down and fell back to the pillow, enveloped in darkness, music, solitude, and a withering state of mind. The moment I closed my eyes, fluorescent patterns flooded my field of vision. They grew outwards and encompassed all I could see. They became my universe. The shapes twisted and turned and stacked and moved all around me. Dancing, marching, shifting through my mind in syncopated rhythm to the tempo of the music. I felt my body melting into the mattress and a swell of warmth took over my core. The patterns formed new shapes. Faces. Animals. Creatures. Indescribable beings. One into the next. All dissolving into one another, ruling my mind. I was not scared of it. I merely observed and followed it further down the path.

I took a moment to open my eyes to see if I was still here. I turned on the lamp next to my bed and all of the elements of the room now looked to be layered with their own fractal patterns and distorted shapes. I suddenly needed to pee, which was a good reminder that I was still human (and alive). After a few minutes of procrastination, I forced myself out of bed, stumbled to the bathroom, leaned against the wall above the toilet, emptied what I could from my bladder (caring just enough about my aim), and stumbled back to bed. I turned off the lamp and slid the eye mask over my eyes and lay back down.

The music pulled me in deeper. The sights and sounds of the trip intensified until the point where it became too intense. I knew I wanted a portion of the experience to be in silence (as outlined by McKenna) and decided this was the right time to kill the music. I reached around for my phone in the dark, knocking a few things over on my nightstand. After feeling around for quite some time I gave up and pulled off the eye mask and turned on the lamp. I eventually made out the shape of my phone on the floor (which is where I must have dropped it after texting my wife). I somehow managed to pick it up. Squinting with one eye, I aligned my finger to the pause button and successfully completed my task. I noted that the time said 9pm, two hours since I began. I knew this meant the peak of the experience approached.

Before turning off the lamp I laid back on my pillow and felt the world slipping away. I raised my arm in front of my face and watched my hand vanish before my eyes. I waived my hand to see if that might bring it back. It didn’t. It simply disappeared. (I remember this part very clearly). I took this as a sign that the next phase had arrived. All I could do was submit to the experience; to let go and follow it wherever it took me. I used my remaining hand to turn off the lamp and pull the blindfold back over my eyes and bid farewell to reality as I knew it.

Within a few moments my sense of self evaporated.  My being intertwined with the room around me; first the bed, then the walls, then the cottage, then the universe. I disintegrated bit by bit. It's hard to describe with language, but it felt as if my body, my mind, and my soul became one universal, singular consciousness. A shared existence with everything. With no time, no space. Just one dimension. Purity. Divinity. There was no me. I no longer existed.

I can’t say exactly how long this part went on. It was somewhere between an hour and an hour and a half. My descent back to awareness of myself unfolded as a slow process, but I regained enough composure to check the time on my phone at about 10:30pm. As I returned, emotions and insights overcame my being. Tears streamed down my face as I attempted to process the experience. Was it death? Was it enlightenment? Was it God? Whatever it was, it felt like a magnificent discovery. It was as though I had unearthed a new existential reality with more power, truth, and meaning than anything I had ever experienced. A reality that existed alongside what I had thought was reality, hidden in plain sight. A truth of unified consciousness and oneness with everything. 

A new realization emerged. Things that once seemed greatly important now felt so inconsequential - seemed like facets of the grand illusion of life. The drive for materialistic pursuits seemed like a supreme distraction. An overwhelming feeling of connection to people in my life took over. I felt a new attachment to my wife and kids, to family members and friends. To humanity. I internalized the shared experience of living that unified us all as conscious beings. I saw that time as we experience it is a mirage. That ever-present death anxiety that always hides in the background seemed to vanish. I felt profoundly present and grateful.

As I processed all of these complex thoughts and feelings, tears continued to come in waves. I could not stop them. This was the most raw and pure outpouring of emotion I had ever experienced. It overpowered me. So did the joy. And the love. Losing myself and my ego allowed me to see parts of my True Self  that became buried in life. I gained a new clear and present perspective about myself and the things that mattered to me and, more importantly, the things that didn’t. 

As my mind regained more control, I wanted to celebrate. I once again needed music. I returned to Spotify and opted for the aptly named group The War On Drugs. As I came down from the peak, the music guided me back to reality. I could not help but move my hands and dance in appreciation of everything I had just gone through. I sat up in bed and turned back on the lamp and sat in awe of the moment. I recognized its profoundness immediately. I emailed my coach (who works with start-up CEOs and executives) to find time the next morning to talk about the experience and figure out how to begin to integrate it into my life. (He and I had previously talked a bit about the power of psychedelics for self-improvement.)   

I spent the night processing, rejoicing, thinking, playing guitar, moving, dancing, breathing, crying, writing, and being. Before bed, I went outside and stared at the vast night sky for quite some time. The sky was open and the light pollution was minimal and I basked in the vastness of the cosmos. A perfect way to close the ceremony.

It is common for people who have gone through this type of experience to refer to it as an Awakening. I certainly consider it to be something of the sort. It was easily one of the most powerful events of my life. It changed what I consider to be my baseline for meaning and understanding of myself. It provided a window into a new reality and truth that have grounded my spiritual being. It reset what I find important in my life. In the weeks following my trip I ceased a number of needless addictive behaviors that I mindlessly accumulated over time; daily checking of news, financial markets, and social media. Even as bad habits returned over time, I gained the ability to spot them more easily and fend them off. I have a new baseline of what my ideal state can be. I am more mindful, present, and spiritual. They say that once you are awakened, you gain perspective that never goes away - even if it sometimes falls by the wayside. You have a new goal post. 

A year after my initial Heroic Dose, I decided to once again revisit the experience on the eve of Rosh Hashana. The experience was once again powerful, although in its own way. It presented unique revelations based on the challenges I faced at the time. I will spare the details for now other than to say that repeating the experience only reaffirmed my belief in the power of these compounds and the need for our leaders to create a sensible way for people to access them. 

I recognize that experiences like this come with risks and that they are not for everyone. But my hope for the future is that those who want to access them and benefit from them are able to find easy, legal, and affordable access. After all, the world needs it now more than ever.

Disclaimer: Psilocybin is considered to be a schedule 1 substance. I am not endorsing or advising any illegal activity. Elements of this story are fictional and written for entertainment purposes.