Okay this might be a clickbait overkill title. You can tell after reading. Moving into the cheapest possible room in a hostel today on the island, next to the Marigot anchorage in San Martin with 5 sqms and no windows. 55EUR for a night for two, apparently, the best deal you can make on this island. Unless you have a skipper friend who can give you a better deal staying on his boat. Or you have a tent like I do and you can sleep under fresh air on a beach for free. Damn it Sam! Or you have your own boat, then you are a damn lucky bastard!
Despite the room is cheap, still feeling care from the owner having starlink with a fairly good internet connection around the building area and air conditioners in each room. He is Austrian. Austrians put good care into these things after all. He moved away in the 70s to South Africa. Then he sailed away once the political system got changed. We even have a nice painting in the room about sailing boats. He was a sailor hismelf in his better days, crossing the Atlantic and the Indian ocean the classic way without auto or windpilot via short-handed sailing, which means working with a small crew of a few persons in rotating shifts 24/7 at the tiller to keep the boat in the direction. Like we did, after our windpilot got broken in the middle of the ocean. But this post is not about that story.
So coming back to the room and why Sam should damn it. I’ve decided to stick with Sam despite my tent is there until his toe gets healed, since we can make better accomodation deals together and we can accelerate our learning curve on this island. More eyes can see more things. More mouths can talk to more people. We are stronger together. And frankly, for now I can allow myself to pay a bed for a night so he doesn’t have to overpay for solo accommodation deals. If I couldn’t make it, I would stay in the tent on the beach. Simple maths.
Sleeping on the upper bunk bed, letting Sam staying down after his toe got operated yesterday having 2cm pieces of plastic out from his foot. He noticed it after 2 months of recovery from an injury, that small pieces of plastic start to fall out of his foot, so once we arrived he went to the hospital right away. In Las Palmas, while drunk he jumped through from one building roof to another barefoot, which – while it may sound like (no sarcasm here), didn’t turn out to be the brightest idea. On the other roof, he jumped on some plastic stuff, that has broken and it has cut his right toe. It had to be fixed with at least 10 stitches. The doctors in the Las Palmas hospital told it would recover in 10 days, so he joined the trip lightheartedly, but it didn’t heal as expected. In fact, in the middle of the Atlantic it looked like it’s getting worse. Swollen and inflammated, it did not give the impression like it’s healing at all.
Then his new skin started to push out some plastic from his toe, which was quite unexpected. The guy was literally importing Spanish plastic inside his toe to America. He can be happy to not have been caught by the customs after all. Once he went to see the doctor, they immediately called for a surgery. Now he is showing off with a capsule full of the plastic that was taken out of his foot. The biggest piece is around 2cm long. Wondering how the Spanish doctors didn’t see that.
Again, back to the room and finally to the reason why I gave this title. First conversations with the people in the hostel. Meeting a guy from Switzerland. He has a feather in his left ear and wears a t-shirt that you can see mostly on psychedelic events, like goa parties. Asking what he is doing here, he says “he will lead a mushroom retreat”. My natural reaction is “wow, where can I sign up”. He says the event is already full sadly. Alright then, I say “if someone doesn’t show up, let me know.” He is just smiling at me. I keep testing waters asking questions like, “how long is this gonna be”, he says “5 days”. Then I go “how does this whole thing look like from his perspective or picture me how a day goes by” and then I feel I unlock something and he starts to speak. He goes “Day 1 introduction and getting to know each other, Day 2 introducing mushroom and talking about it, Day 3 all day tripping, Day 4 is reflections and talking out what happened in the past days and Day 5 is closing off the reflections and talks”. That’s nice. He looks exactly like the guy who can lead these kind of events. “Where is this taking place again, here in the woods?” I’m asking. “No, it’s on another island actually. From here there is a flight to a small island and from then on with ferry to these British Islands.” “Where about?” I’m asking again. “Ah they called these Virgin Islands I see.” he says. “Ah yeah, where Richard Branson lives?” I’m asking. He says “Yes exactly. He will actually host the event.” I’m frozen for a second and all I can say is “Wow. Wow.” Let’s digest that for a bit. Richard Branson is hosting mushroom retreat to lead executives and to his friends on his island. That’s a strong picture. Apparently I looked it up after we talked and he turns out to be a big advocate of psychedelics that can reduce depression, PTSD and anxiety.
If you’ve made it so far, and you are a grounded person, while reading, you may have noticed a chain of sudden changing reactions in you. At the first half, this Swiss guy may have seemed like an average Junkie Joe to you – honestly to me as well, who was about to lead a “so called retreat” – as THEY call it, to those other Junkie Joes and Janets who just junk around with their junkie lives. And then fucking Richard Branson comes into picture as a host of the event and perceptions suddenly change. Damn. That guy is smart. He’s a billionaire. He founded the Virgin Group. And he is hosting mushroom retreats? It hardly fits in. Or is there something wrong with our perceptions about drugs?
Instead of bringing statistics and data to try and answer this question, I’m asking the guy “can you share some feedbacks you’ve got from the clients who came to such events?” He says “There was this guy in his late 50s, a millionaire, lead executive. He had a revelation of how his unresolved childhood traumas have shaped his whole life. He always tried to live up to the expectations of his parents as a child, and it has never changed when he grew up. After the event he changed his lifestyle. But actually it’s full of such stories. There was someone who realized she’s got raped as a child after tripping. Her memory closed out this information fully and she could only access it while under the mushroom.”
I went through some revelations myself over the past year as well of how I tried to shape my character based on other people’s expectations and perceptions. I have read some nice books about this topic and started to dig a bit into psychotherapy and it’s alternative methods like hypnotherapy and coaching. I can thank my current state of mind to the professionals whom I worked together with over a hard period of my life and to the books and other sources I’ve educated myself on – but let’s don’t run in there for now.
Back to the conversation again. Based on what I have learned from the guy and read from the professionals and books, it seems that a mushroom retreat can gain access to an accelerated path of reaching similar epiphany moments that several psychotherapy sessions of some sort could lead to. I will leave this here without trying to prove this point or back it up with datapoints or other sources. Going through my own learnings through my own path, I could only click with what he has shared about these retreats as long as they are made with the right intentions. While this is a subjective point of view, sharing the buddhist teachings that mankind’s main goal is – or at least should be – to reduce suffer from one’s life. If psychedelics can help to lead one on that path, why not?
