Saint Petersburg has this reputation: the reputation of a liberty caps' stronghold or even of the place from where this tradition spread to all of Russia. At least, it had it when I was younger and was interested in public opinion. In my case, this image is justified: magic mushrooms came into my life in my middle 20s and have never left it. It has become a rite that happens once or twice a year, like a sauna but the one for consciousness.
I was a consumer first, not a gatherer but, eventually, someone taught me this craft. So there was my third harvest this autumn. I have collected 181 Psilocybe semilanceata for my private use.
This happened at the very beginning of October during a row of sunny but cold days. Three men over forty took a train away from the city and camped in the woods. In half an hour's walk, there were abandoned Finnish pastures where the mushrooms could be found.
Several hours of crouching in the grass and, at the end of the day, I saw mushrooms even when I was having my eyes closed. (In childhood, this effect used to happen to me after all day long picking up wild strawberries.)
Our campground was situated in a vast pine tree forest near a lake, one of the many in this area. We collected plenty of wood and were burning fire to make our camp cozier and warmer. +4 at night, everybody wore sweaters, thick jackets, etc, I had two pairs of trousers and three layers of socks on me.
We boiled a part of our harvest in a small saucepan on a portative gas burner, added a lot of condensed milk in it, split the drink into three cups, and quickly drank it.
We didn't eat the boiled mushrooms. But my friend didn't throw them away; instead, he put them aside onto a log like if he didn't want to call them garbage and even offered them a seat. (I came up with this thought later, when, high on mushrooms, I sat down on these funny worms).
It was not a dream team. Two of us met each other for the first time brought together by the third person, our mutual friend. Both nature lovers but too different types... This didn't become a problem but I decided to keep my distance from that guy and preferred walking in the forest alone or with my friend.
Soon, I felt high, blue lichens on the pine bark glowed and flowed, I saw a grid of geometrical patterns though dim.
The stars were getting brighter, the Milky Way was as milky as never before. I put a travel mat on the ground and lay down to admire the sky. It was clear that the trip wouldn't be wild but the natural beauty was overwhelming.
"Anybody wants to have a stroll in the forest?"
...lights galloping on branches and trunks, the crackle of twigs underfoot, like a mockumentary about researchers wandering through the wood in search of a witch hut. But no witches there, only kids under giant trees were playing.
...I and my friend were sitting on a wooden pier among the reeds, with head flashlights on, and staring up in fascination: the stars looked as lights of a giant spaceship floating above us.
I asked my friend if he had a harmonica with him. He nodded and, having understood me without words, took the instrument from a pocket and started sending a message to the passengers above us.
The deep silent night, black shadows of trees all around, the dark mirror of the lake in front of us, and, over it all, the lingering call of the harmonica, low and gentle as the voice of a magic beast, emerged and flew away to the astonished portholes.
I felt how they could see us from there and I was enchanted with that spectacle: two tiny spots of light in the thick of the forest, making archaic, inexplicable sounds, surrounded by the incomprehensible and attractive alien world. We were na'vi on our Pandora where every bush and every bug were on our side because we are all from here, co-evolved and rooted through each other, one whole. I didn't think it, I was feeling it.
...at last, the spaceship had gone and the sky was, back, just regular amazing sky scattered with usual shimmering stars. I was sitting on a granite boulder alone in the forest with a flashlight off. If a fox or a lynx were nearby, they could hear me mumbling words of gratitude to the mushrooms. I was happy that, again, I was allowed to get in.
Verified by Hive Watchers | My portfolio on Alamy | Facebook | Twitter
These are my photos, taken with Nikon D750 + Nikkor 24mm f/2.8D in October 2021. This is not a cross-post, the images were never published on the Internet.
Thank you for stopping by! 😎
