https://m.primal.net/LmYG.jpg 
The first big trip

I wish the first macro dose trip had been on purpose. I still appreciate every inch of what happened. A certain part of my ego, my hubris, my coyote spirit, entrapped me into falling into the experience I needed.

It turns out that I had been doing beautiful work with microdosing. They connected me to practices I knew were necessary for living. Praying had become a normal part of my life. Running, going to the gym, breathing exercises, meditations. I had found a path that was transforming me physically and mentally into an evolved version of myself. The mushrooms gave me a state of possibility beyond the known, a constant “why not?”.
“Why not run out of breath?” for example. Why not pray?
I had tuned into practices and methods that gave me a way of living.
Anyway I must say that the sense of well being that the mushrooms provoked forgave any lack of care. They had me in a contented or neutral state. I could eat whatever my relaxed digestion would allow. Nothing was bad for me. I could feel content to do and not do without judgment or reprimand.

When I started microdosing I had the feeling that I had passed through a portal to a parallel world. People were kind to me. Everyone had a certain happiness about them that they didn't have before. Those who fought with me stopped fighting with me. I realized the valuable power of one's own vibration. When the microdoses opened my heart a little and gave me harmony in the hemispheres, brain-heart coherence, everyone around me seemed to transform. I was amazed. I wanted to give it to everyone.
I distributed mushrooms everywhere, I cultivated, I harvested, I gave away, I went on pilgrimage, I went on mission, I preached. I never tired of talking about the benefits of mushrooms.

I remember once while drinking beer with a friend and commenting on the fungi power in life, global and medicinal panacea, a friend told me: “No, Sato, it's you”.
Just like that. Very simply, he said that the things that happened to me happened to me because I was the one going through them. I had no use believing that.

Maybe, I admit it, there are people who have eaten two big mushrooms and have not felt what I felt with a six-millimeter primordium. Maybe it is not the global panacea that will save the world. I had a hard time believing it. I would still find it hard to believe. The potential of psylocibin is very nice and huge.
There is a quality of surrender in that, Ramon said it in that ceremony in Huachuma:
It's not the quantity of medicine you take, it's the quality of surrender.
Paraphrasing.

Anyway. I spent months distributing mushrooms to everyone I could and had a hand to receive. I sold and gave away. I cultivated, I got. I put it in mate, I made tea. Sometimes people drank mate with me without knowing I had mushrooms. I didn't kill anyone. I proved that it was possible. They smiled a little more.
My parents were victims of my obsession with mushrooms. Several times I made them tea with microdoses and lovingly indulged them. Handing it to them with both hands and reverently telling them. “I want you to take this, which is a gift from the deep love and affection I have for you”. Imagine, both parents, having seen their child being stale and sad and so on. Bringing something with both hands, confessing love by bowing their head. Hugging and kissing. It had to be tryed and so they did. They never told me what they felt. I did see them going to the bank to do paperwork, laughing hand in hand in love, that was all.

You have to give these medicines with that affection and love. Expressing it with the heart, with the mind and with the body. That way the receiving channel can be opened. Or be denied with truth, because if it was not right for that person or not the right time, inevitably there would be rejection.
I used to chat with my mom about her processes and problems, her emotions and stories. In my psylocibe time I recommended her many times to do a microdose process. She was afraid and I would tell her that it was absurd, that it would do her good, that it would take away her fear, that it would give her peace to reflect, that this and that. It became desperate for me to hear a problem that I knew its solution was right there in the kitchen cupboard where we were chatting.
I would cut the little piece of mushroom and say, “Here! Take this! You'll see!”
And she'd say, “No, well, let me, later.”
Maybe I could get her to eat a little bit, but it was so small that it was insignificant.
One day we started arguing. She must have been upset about something and I insisted that she take the mushrooms and in the heat of the argument I took a big mushroom. The biggest of the whole crop. It must have weighed an easy 2 grams. It had his black hat open sporulated. Drunk with power and arrogance I ate it in his face saying:
“See, this is how you have to eat! If you eat so little it won't do you anything.”
Then I said goodbye and walked home.
I walked along the bank of the big canal. Quiet, flowing. I crossed paths with a childhood friend and continued my journey. Then, as if attracted by the adventure, I took a narrow path through a reed bed that after bending down several times to bow to the branches, leads to an abandoned farm. I walked aimlessly through the farm, already feeling the first effects of the fungus on me. Relaxed and observing. Within a square of the field, which no longer had fruit trees, thousands of poplars had proliferated. They were growing upwards like rays from the earth and I felt that all those poplars shared the same root and that they were the same poplar that sprouted and sprouted. I was inside a forest.
It occurred to me to pull one out to take home and plant for shade in the summer. Shade I needed since my front door and window faced the afternoon summer sun. I had no tools but my hands, and in the “why not” of the mushroom I grabbed a thin sapling six or seven meters long and started pulling. It took a lot of energy to pull it up but it was not in my calculations. The concept of fatigue or energy had completely vanished. I had supernatural strength. I pulled up three saplings by the roots. And, panting and perspiring, I returned home. I remember crossing the canal on the narrow footbridge of old and rotten boards with three trees in my hands. I remember getting home and looking for the most efficient way to plant them. The mushroom relaxation was coming, I yawned and yawned. I turned on the water pump and started breaking up the hard soil with the pressure of the hose. I splashed mud everywhere and, very precariously, I put them there. I thought they should take care of themselves and be strong because they were just wild poplars. The three poplars died soon after.
I found myself covered in fungus, muddy and sweaty, decomposed, as if I were sick and nauseous. I decided to take a bath.
I felt bad because I really got into that trip, I didn't expect to be like this. So hypersensitive and open. So self-conscious.
When I went to the bathroom I remember looking in the mirror and in full nausea seeing my long beard. I immediately realized that my long beard, on the map of my life, was synonymous with abandonment. Perhaps it is an ancestral force in me, or a program, or a way of communicating with myself. I realized that my long beard hid the swelling of my face. The swelling of my face was because I had very bad habits. The beard was the mask that hid my true face from the world, but it also hid me from my true face. Back there were my cheeks of gluttony, my swollen glands from swallowing filth.  I began to shave in desperation. In the sensation of being mounted surfing a long arcade as long as my five foot seven inches.
In the automatic process of shaving my body, I saw my naked torso. Scissoring and pinching. I felt disgust all over. Added to my face, my torso reflected more of the gluttony. I could see and feel in my liver and belly the thousand and one ways of poisoning I had perpetrated on my body. I could feel every piece of garbage I had swallowed amplified. In addition the gluttonous nausea contained things that should not logically be there but the link was clear: Other psychic vices, my relationship with my parents, excessive use of social networks, business relationships that did not serve me, my relationship with my daughter. My own character in the theater of life disgusted me.
My eyes were big and my pupils dilated. My face was completely symmetrical. I realized that my hemispheres were fully balanced in resonance as both sides of me had amalgamated. I looked like an android.
And at the same time, from my lower abdomen I could see my sexual dramas. A reptilian posture. Indescribable. I felt it was vile, inconsiderate, hurtful. I perceived the enormous power and responsibility of sexual energy. Life-creating.  I saw the harm it could cause and perhaps I had caused without realizing it. I saw the divine and miraculous creative potential. Like a bolt of lightning it hit me in the back of the head receiving an upgrade of the software of living. I was able to perceive the world from the point of view of the sexual equation. It took me years to thread the knowledge I received but the impression was so overwhelming and abysmal that I felt the effects of every trauma there is and ever will be. I believe I felt every violation and abuse in all the lineages of my ancestors. I felt what fibers of beings I touched in victims and victimizers.
I felt where I vibrated them in me, nauseating. I felt the fire of hell burning life by the evil and selfish use of the vital alpha and omega. Promiscuity profligate masturbatory indolent insensitive desidious irresponsible harmful debilitating. There are no words. All that in me. Reptilian. Burning me to a crisp.
I realized the millions of ways all these behaviors manifested in my material world in addition to my body. My home was embedded in that, my objects, my tools. Everything my home and my living environments were and emanated symbolism from what my psyche and body had constructed. How to explain it...
My home was the physical manifestation of the use of my sexual energy and my eating drives.
When so much information fell into me, the natural reaction of my mind was to go into self-flagellation. Despair. How could I be so shitty. How I had been so ignorant. How much damage I could have caused. I am such a piece of shit. I went in to punish myself with words and feelings. The cycle of self-flagellation and thinking the old adagio “what does one more stripe do to the tiger?” “if I'm already a piece of shit why not hurt myself some more” “who cares, if I hate this thing I did with me I'd like to destroy it” The very vibration of guilt.
Until I heard the voice:
“Ease. Build on top of this” A compassionate voice said in my ears.
And surprise bathed me in light and calm. The sound of the voice from heaven stunned me. It wasn't coming from anywhere. The things in my bathroom were normal, I was not hallucinating, the silence was profoundly normal, the image in the mirror was the same as always. During this whole trip I hadn't seen things that weren't there. Nothing was moving or melting. I was just seeing things as they are, so normally manifest that the simple and the obvious revealed profound truths. Everything is in plain sight, it cannot be hidden. I was as sober as a breathalyzer test would have given me a negative score.  
When the gaze is purified, the heart is cleansed, the truth is obvious and manifest. It is when the senses can cross time and space and recognize themselves living other experiences and other lives. It is when telepathy becomes normal and one can sense information and decode it. I realized that not a single thought is private and even less hidden, everything springs forth and manifests in the physical world in a transcendental language.
All this astounded me. I had not uttered such words, I could not even have conceived them.
“Repentance. Total change of attitude. Mutate action.”
I listened to the words again and felt the bath of light, love and harmony.
It was telling me that I should walk and act in the opposite direction. That to do so was as simple as turning on the spot and heading in the opposite direction. As these thoughts washed over me, my reflection morphed into a more harmonious and beautiful image. I no longer reflected that sore and vile chained reptile, but a more human image. As if locks had opened and chains had fallen from my body.
“Ascending is like descending” He said.
And I saw a downward spiral dragging my life and soul into a hell. As I went, so went my whole family, my house, my dogs, my plants, the souls of my parents and my ancestors. At the same time that I was self-flagellating and hurting myself, I was taking my children's children with me into deep misery, into the endless pit of infinite suffering and dark evil.
And at the same time I saw the other spiral, the one of paradise. Where we help each other to create an improved and effective version of living in harmony with divinity and life forces. A resonance capable of levitating all things and houses, objects, dogs and souls towards heaven on earth. An ascending spiral of light, love, peace, benevolence.
“When you want to go up, just go up. You have a thousand lives.” Said the voice
And I felt a divine neutrality of free will. Divinity shrugging its shoulders and showing me its clean hands that never got involved in anything without my asking. No one was forcing me to choose any path. No one would ever intervene for me. No one could. Nothing would bring about any change. I could see a thousand lifelines in the river of eternal drowning but no one was going to move my arms to grab it and hold on. No one was going to lift me fallen. No one was going to give me the wings to soar. (Unless I asked for it perhaps.) It had to be a conscious decision of my own. And I realized that the effort and energy of taking the upward spiraling path was the same as the downward path. Either one required the same energy and will. It was willingness to hurt yourself or build yourself up. It was a thought of distance. Love each other, hate each other. To live, to die. And when I heard “a thousand lives” they actually said the infinite number. Saying a thousand, the voice was generous to me. I could die and be reincarnated five hundred trillion times eternally with the same subject and the same problem. The actors would mutate, the scenes change and repeat themselves with different colors. My life is this, the only one. Because by not learning, it repeats itself, and returns, and repeats itself. And it returns. And in these sensations I recognized the inconceivable quantum power of life and resonance. I will not be able to explain, but nothing is as it seems, and it would rather be like a tremendous dream of resonance frequencies that at any moment can be transformed into a nightmare if we think in those directions of darkness and fear.
And worse than that would be to grow old with unresolved issues, to give up, to give up for dead, to try to escape them and evade the self. To evade free will, what a paradox. We have so much freedom that we can choose not to have it.
Already in the shower I could see myself from above. Detached from my body. I recognized the vessel that had been given to me to fulfill the mission of this life. My body. My avatar. The vehicle of my consciousness. The most impressive sophisticated work that could have been conceived, self-creating. But it was part of me, it was not me. It was just a part that I had to take care of and honor because it was a sacred temple where my infinite consciousness dwells. A tool of limitation for my being to be able to travel in these planes of this world.
And when I look at the glass of the shower stall, I see the drops of water falling and splashing. When several drops of water slid down to the floor on the surface of the glass the figures that transparent on the steam fogged glass were identical to a bunch of rising souls. Like tadpoles of light going skyward. And I heard the voice:
“Ascending takes courage and bravery. It's all right, go up.”
And I thought it was extraordinary that in addition to words they were synchro/tuning my gaze with images that were representative of what they wanted to tell me. Speaking in plural because my intuition told me that I was being communicated with “The cosmic brotherhood”. I don't even know what that means but thank you very much for the data.
And I saw my hands as divine instruments. And in them I saw how many times I had been a coward to take action for my own good. And I had been afraid of what people would say and to be the rainbow sheep of the herd. I understood that my body has memory beyond my brain. That in every cell there are stored memories and information of what was and the moves that were made. That every time I had been afraid and acted in and out of fear I had nurtured cowardice. Like a conditioned reflex.
But now I knew that ascending is simple as descending, and that they were waiting for me. They have the patience of all lives.
And I saw the other parts of my body, sitting in the shower. Each one was looking back at me. Because we were a self-conscious whole. It's hard to explain. How can a foot look back at you? I don't know. I felt it and it went right through me. Not only was I looking at them, but they were looking at me. My feet, my legs, my penis, my belly, my hands. Not only were they looking at me, but in that look was encoded the information of what they were saying. And it was a look of the dog that destroyed the couch while the owner was away. And when he confronts the owner you can see that he knows what he did, and that it was wrong. That he surely regrets it and that his master looks at him disappointed. That's how they looked at me, my body parts. Regretful, intelligently knowing and recognizing themselves. Defeated, ashamed. The team failed.
I spoke:
“We have to get it right. Talk to me! Let me know. Wake me up when I'm inattentive.”
My hands had a boldness to move, taking my words of encouragement. Their expression changed.
“Let's go to in the same direction and without setbacks” I said ”let's allow ourselves to make it without fear and be brave.”
“That if there is fear let's see it as delusion”.
“Let's walk life with the courage of those who are dying”.