Giving herself the green light.

I was neither asleep nor awake. It was more like I had been floating between the realms of both when a gentle squeeze of my hand pulled me from my dreamy haze. From my position on the floor next to her I looked at my mother lying peacefully on the couch, adorned with eye mask and noise cancelling headphones. The light in her living room was low, it was mostly lit by candlelight. Light and shadows flickered around us rambunctiously whilst we remained still.

Her mouth was open as if she was in awe of something. Her breathing was short and shallow with little happy noises occasionally escaping as she breathed out. I just sat motionless and watched her, only the odd excited flicker from a candle drawing my eyes away. She took a deep breath, as much as her weak lungs and diaphragm would allow and squeezed on my hand again. She let out a sigh and a smile drew wide across her face. I looked closely at her, it seemed as if her age had regressed 20 years. Even in the dim light her normally opaque, wrinkled skin, that had been ravaged by time and illness, flushed with colour and was firm. I wondered was this the effects of the mushroom tea on me and my perception of her or was her experience having that effect on her physically.

I rose softly from my spot, carefully sliding my hand free from hers, and went and turned the heater up a touch. I had wanted to put a blanket on her earlier but decided against it as I didn’t want to disturb or startle the woman from her experience. Even though she was open to the idea she had been nervous about taking the mushrooms. To put her at ease I drank some of the tea with her so that she wouldn’t be alone. This newfound openness to what she used deem an illicit drug stemmed from her illness. She was tired now. Tired of being in pain, tired of being in a stupor from the medication, she felt she was a burden on people and worst of all she was losing her mind. Memories and the feelings attached to them were being lost to the void and it pained her the most. Years back while watching her own mother wither away with dementia, she had asked me not to let her go like that. She wanted to go on her own terms. With her memories and experiences and her essence intact. I agreed without question. The only thing that was holding her back was the fear in doing so.

I had suggested the mushrooms on account of my own experiences and research. Across the world studies and experiments were being carried out with great success on those with terminal illness to help alleviate their fear and move into a state of acceptance. I showed her videos and testimonials from those who had taken part and found great relief. It was these that got her on board with the idea. Now while Ireland has taken some significant social steps away from catholic oppression it was still a long way off any sort of enlightenment when it came to the therapeutic value of psychedelics. Once she agreed to give the mushrooms a try, I set about sourcing them for her. Luckily the time of the year was with us.

On a wet October weekend, I travelled west from Cork to Caherdaniel in county Kerry. I could have found some locally no doubt, but it was also an opportunity to visit friends. For two days, whilst soaked to the bone from steady rainfall, I searched the fields, hills and mountains of the area. Day one had been a fruitless endeavour. That evening I sat at the bar of my friend Maria’s pub quite despondent. Maria had been making me the most delicious of hot whiskeys in an attempt to cheer me up but also warm my soul from the day in the elements.

“Don’t worry boy” Maria softly said as she slid another whisky my way. The steam rising from the golden liquid under the soft light of the bar made it appear magical. An elixir made by some Tolkienesque character.

“If it’s meant to be they will appear. It’s like they will know you are out to do good. Trust me they can feel the energy”

This made me laugh because it sounded so corny, but I believed her.

The following day, with my head throbbing and any movement requiring some extra effort, I ventured out into the rain. Within an hour I had found my first Psilocybe Semilanceata.

Several hours later I was returning to the car with an industrial amount of the fruiting bodies. I returned to Maria’s pub that evening and once more she concocted the golden elixir for me. This time she joined me on a bar stool for the night.

“Well Mystical Maria, you were fucking right.” I said joyously holding out my glass for a cheers.

I had taken my place on the floor next to the couch again and took my mother’s hand. She smiled and made a noise. That satisfied noise one makes when they receive a big hug from a loved one or a long-seen friend. I smiled back as I felt her grip tighten. I was really hoping she was finding what she needed. I looked at her face and again was taken aback by the youthful colourful glow that had replaced the pallor she had long worn. I checked my phone to see how long was left on the extended meditation music track I had found for the experience. There was only a minute to go. The 4-hours had seemed like both an eternity and an eye blink.

The music played out and she lay there motionless for another 5 minutes or so before reaching for the eye mask. I got to my knees and helped her remove both it and the earphones. She looked at me and her thin lips smiled from ear to ear. Her pupils were voluminous and black, and the little flames around the room flickered in them.

“Well, how are you feeling?” I asked her in a low deep tone. The sound of my own voice reverberated around in my head.

“Oh Robert, I feel. . . so wonderful, so overcome with joy. Can you sit up here and hold me?” she replied.

There was a youthfulness in her voice that matched what I was seeing in her face this past while. She sounded like my mother from my youth. The age and illness had been filtered out. I wondered again was I perceiving this or had her experience brought it on. I hoped for the latter. I gently helped her to sit up and took my place on the couch. The cushions were warm and cosy from the woman’s body heat. She rested her head on my chest. I didn’t speak, I just put my arms around her and let her enjoy the glow she was feeling.

“This is nice” she said.

I held her a little tighter and a tear fell from my cheek to the top of her head.

“Oh, you better not be crying up there.”

I sniggered a little as I wiped my eye. We sat for a bit in silence. Her moving slowly with my breathing. The candles were getting noticeably faint, they were at the end of their wick and would soon go out.

“That was so wonderful Robert. It was. . . just so wonderful.” She said finally breaking the silence. The candles danced a little as she talked.

“Well, I’m glad you had a good experience.”

“Oh, it was truly wonderful.”

We returned to silence for a few minutes before she spoke again and once more the candles danced.

“I am no longer afraid. I’m ready.”

I gave her another squeeze and kissed the top of her head. A combination of happiness and sadness swelled within me. Happiness for the peace she had found and sadness for soon she would be gone.

“Play some music for me, for us, some stuff I like.” She requested with a yawn.

I was able to reach for the phone without disturbing her too much and connected to a speaker on the tv stand. A little green power light came on the device, this stood out in the dimness. I started one of my mother’s playlists and set the sound low. As we drifted off to the sounds of Streisand, Dion and ABBA the candles went out and we were left in the glow of the little green light.