Adventures in Microdosing

            It’s an italicization of the present moment.  The greyish underbelly of the fluttering maple leaf enchants my normally scattered attention.   I pause in appreciative observation of its electric lime backside gyrating in the mourning breeze.  Though this seemingly tangible enchantment exudes all existence, my ego maintains a loosened grip on the illusory control it craves: to write, grill eggplants, juggle schedules to plan a European reunion with friends.  It’s morphed, however, from taskmaster to tool.  Rather than yank my chain of attention from desire to desire, fear to fear, my shrunken self serves my spirit rather than vice versa.  For a few sacred hours today, I find it easier to simply be rather than do, do DO for a future that’s always out of grasp.  A cliché, I know, but cut me some slack—I’m on 10 micrograms of LSD. 

          It started with a tab from a friend (no, really), just in time for an Odesza concert.  My mindSET was hesitant, my SETTING a parking lot sandwiched between a soccer stadium and I-71.  A couple compromising snips later, and I was left with a miniscule piece of paper—about a third of the original hit.  It resulted in an astounding night of much needed steam letting and healing.  With heightened sensation, I allowed the musical duo’s ethereal sounds and stunning visuals carry me within to a place of indubitable intuition.  There I re-processed emotional trauma through another neural network, gaining different perspective from which I could self-heal… all while standing alongside raucous attendees chomping lollipops and concocting moonshine cocktails in foldable flasks with workout recovery supplements.  In the enlightened afterglow the following day, I considered: I’ve fruitfully experimented microdosing with marijuana edibles.  Why not try it with acid?

Contemplation @ InCuya the following day 

Thus one hit became ten.  Following Dr. James Fadiman’s microdosing guidelines, I waited a few days before munching more, noting the slight yet striking effects.  Smiles slipped upon my lips more fluidly.  The calm clarity that emerges from meditation became present in the present moment.  In those increased lulls between DOING, my mind focused on channeling love as it would had I been perched in half lotus for a half hour.  I was content to simply stare at the tree that’s thrived outside my bedroom window for years, cherishing its energy without a single fret about the future or remorse of the past. 

My mind, however, wasn’t oozing out my ears as it had after microdosing Xanax on a prop plane from the Bahamas, my gaze glossy and mouth gaping lamely at clouds. Instead, there was heightened awareness of that italicized magic inundating our otherwise mundane existence. I pedaled through familiar woods glacially, not only sparing an extra glimpse skyward but organically appreciating the emerald canopy above, bathed in almost-autumn golden hues. No longer was I imprisoned to my ego’s constant, anxious tug towards the future, robbing me of the present’s simple bliss.



Like any adventure my microdosing came to a cathartic end (with fluff to spare).  These teeny weeny micrograms of a powerful molecule produced a subtle shift in an otherwise idle day.  It was as effortless as changing the channel, attuning to love.  There is nothing to fear except fear itself.  You can choose your own adventure.