(Or So I Thought)
Lately it feels like psilocybin mushrooms are everywhere: in research studies, in the media, and in conversations among people who, a few years ago, would never have imagined discussing psychedelics over dinner.
Magic mushrooms are touted as a fix for depression, addiction, anxiety, burnout, trauma, creativity, and purpose – to name just a few of the promises. Depending on what you read, they can either change your life… or unravel it.
One thing is certain: mushrooms are not for everyone.
Once upon a time, they were definitely not for me. I didn’t have a history of experimenting with mind-altering substances. I never even got drunk in college. Fortunately, I don’t suffer from depression or overwhelming anxiety. I’m not suffering from addiction or dealing with a crippling trauma.
But amid the psychedelic buzz, a question kept surfacing:
What might mushrooms offer someone like me? (Or someone like you?)
If you’re the kind of person who needs to be convinced, sold to, or hyped into trying plant medicine, it’s probably not for you. But there is a certain kind of person who is quietly curious.
I recognize this curiosity well because I now guide retreats where many women experience psilocybin mushrooms for the first time. The typical participant is thoughtful, self-aware, highly functional. Work is solid, relationships are stable. Life looks pretty good.
There is no crisis. No breakdown. No capital-T trauma rearing its head.
But there might be:
- Curiosity about what might open up if you stepped outside your well-worn grooves
- Feeling that your inner world hasn’t quite caught up with the success of your outer life
- A sense that there’s more to experience in your life
And a quiet question slips through the cracks of an otherwise well-managed life:
Is this the full range of experience available to me? Is there more?
Maybe there’s an itch. Maybe not. Maybe there’s just a flicker of curiosity when someone mentions a mushroom journey.
For me, the idea surfaced in an unexpected way. Some years ago, someone who knows and loves me suggested that I try plant medicine. That someone was my son.
Why me? I asked. He said, Plant medicine feels aligned with your values – like personal growth and loving-kindness.
That got my attention.
Before anyone takes them
What’s interesting isn’t only what happens during a first mushroom journey. It’s what happens before.
Alongside curiosity, there’s often hesitation, anxiety, and a surprising amount of internal negotiation.
Most first-timers aren’t chasing a wild experience. They’re not trying to recreate the spirit of the 1969 Woodstock Festival. And they’re not trying to escape otherwise good lives.
You might hear thoughts like:
- I don’t want to lose control.
- I don’t even like how pot makes me feel.
- I’m not that kind of person. I don’t do drugs.
- I’ve already done a lot of work on myself… what could this possibly add?
Underneath those thoughts sits something softer:
- Curiosity about what it might feel like to be a little less guarded
- Desire to see things from a slightly different angle
- Sense that there might be more to access beyond the proverbial windshield we witness life through
Here’s the interesting contradiction: the very traits that make someone cautious – self-awareness, intentionality, thoughtfulness – are often the same traits that shape a meaningful first psychedelic journey.
What surprises people most
If you’ve never tried mushrooms, your expectations are probably shaped by extremes: something overwhelming and chaotic, or something mystical and life-altering.
But many first experiences don’t look like either of those stories.
Over my time guiding women who are new to the mushroom experience, I’ve noticed a pattern. Again and again, I hear reflections like these afterward:
- It felt surprisingly gentle.
- I didn’t lose myself – I felt more like myself.
- The insights weren’t dramatic. They were obvious – but somehow profound.
- It wasn’t about escaping. It was about noticing.
When women arrive, many carry the same worries: Will I lose control? Will this feel scary? Am I really the kind of person who does this?
What often surprises them is how meaningful the experience can feel. Here’s a sampling of my retreat participants’ reflections after their journeys:
- a wonderful magical series of extraordinary epiphanies
- nothing short of transformational
- a rare and powerful experience
- the most positive and transformative experience
- glorious, divine, magical, out of this world, the best day of my life
- I tapped into my own inner wisdom
- an amazing body and mind reset
What it all means
Despite the mythology, mushrooms are not a magic fix. They don’t automatically heal everything that’s imperfect. And depending on the dose and the strain, a journey may not even include vivid visuals or dramatic revelations.
They also don’t replace the mindfulness our lives require.
What mushrooms can sometimes do is simpler and more profound: they help us notice our lives with fresh attention.
Sometimes that means seeing beauty and bounty more clearly.
Sometimes that means softening a rigid perspective.
Sometimes that simply means remembering what matters.
Still not for you?
No problem. As I said at the beginning, mushrooms are not for everyone.
But the questions mushrooms help us explore can be useful whether you ever journey or not:
- What do I want to feel more of in my life?
- Where might I have room to be more open?
- Am I staying curious?
- What might be possible for me?
- What makes my life feel meaningful?
- How can I show up with more care for others?
In the end, the real invitation may not be about mushrooms at all.
It may simply be about curiosity and what might happen if you follow it, even just a little.
