Muhammad mows down the mountain

 

I'm only calling it that to avoid putting the word "mushrooms" in the title. I figured it would be less of an NSA trigger if I saved it for the body of the text, but who am I kidding? 

Muhammad, in attempting to alleviate his depression, decided to try a micro-dose of magic mushrooms. So, the title should read, "Muhammad mows down the mountain, micro-dosing magic mushrooms." Or something to that effect. Gotta maximize the alliteration.

I'm guessing I'm just not cut out for this type of therapy. The idea is that you take a minuscule dose of the hallucinogen, and it enhances mental clarity while lifting the fog of depression. 

What a load of horseshit! Stupid+Mushrooms=More stupid. It mainly made me stupid(er) and lessened my ability to function at the normal everyday tasks that I could at least manage to accomplish with my regular old, non-enhanced brain. 

Eye-hand coordination, spatial awareness and focus were all diminished, while a heightened sense of paranoia and a feeling of a lack of control of my own actions prevailed.

I was sold on the idea of micro-dosing by a few articles that I read, where it was claimed that you would gain all the beneficial, brain stimulating properties of this powerful drug, while still being able to fold laundry. 

"Take a small dose and go about your daily activities. Everything will taste better, look brighter, and you'll be open to new ideas."

Poppycock! I find my own naturally occurring state of consciousness, as fucked up as it may be, to be far superior to this impaired, scared, dumbed-down version.

So, what was on my plate for the day that made me declare this experiment a failure? Just a little light lawn mowing. 

Uh, stupid decision #1: never operate power equipment while experimenting with a mind altering substance. I'd have done better smoking a ton of weed and jumping on the mower. At least I'd be in familiar territory. And weed tends to make me more focused and less agitated.

This mushroom stuff just threw off my calibration for everything. I hit way more rocks, stumps and protrusions than normal. I was less able to navigate potholes and corners. Even backing up was sketchy. 

It was like I was asleep at the wheel, or just barely waking up and finding myself headed straight for a tree and having to avert collision constantly. I missed large swaths of unmowed grass on multiple passes, while focusing on eliminating a single dandelion became an obsession. I found myself continually mowing into my dusty exhaust because of poor choices of direction.

The smartest thing I did was admit I was licked and give up for the day. I'll have to assess the crappy job I did tomorrow and redo major portions with the benefit of an unimpaired brain. Now what can I do with the rest of my day? 

I'm 2 hours and 8 mins. in at this point. Maybe a nice, safe morning of breakfast and television until my brain and body decide they want to work together again. Who knows, I may find cooking to be a more formidable task than I'm giving it credit for. We'll see.

Fuckin' shrooms. For the second and last time, I'll say "never again."