Imagine taking a substance that alters your perception of reality such that the language you have developed so far according to your naturally occurring experience is useless to convey these new thoughts. But you know they make sense, and you know if you could talk about them they would make sense to others too.
Well, you can’t really, unless you’re the one taking the trip down these newly carved neuronal pathways. In this case, it’s me and the magic mushrooms I just took. I came out on the other side all shaken up/out and with one main question: If a philosopher takes a mind-altering drug alone in her room, is she still philosophizing?
Let me start off by saying it is very rare for me. In the few times I have taken psychedelics I have been too modest in my dose to achieve anything resembling a trip (with the exception of salvia, which I do not recommend). This is the first I’d felt, if I can attempt a vague metaphor, an opening of the mind. I thought I’d have to wait until my deathbed to have any entirely new thoughts, and yet here they were a fungi away. I felt frightened, exhilarated, frustrated, and like I wish I did this more often, though my typical arrangement does not think that’s a good idea.