I went for a walk today, and it felt completely magical. Felt like tripping without a drug, and I'm so grateful to have had that time to myself. I wandered down a familiar path, and decided on a whim to take a less familiar path. Eventually I decided to abandon the path altogether. It felt like Nova Scotia, and I thought I could eventually come out to some beautiful and impossible cliffs high above the shore.
I remember tripping through the back side of the cemetery in Sanford (mushrooms, I think) and feeling like every scene was a magical snapshot that needed to be captured and preserved for my non-tripping self. I took a lot of pictures of wondrous things, and when I got them developed, they were so disappointing. Not only could I not see the floating tree or the whispering leaves the same through a picture, I couldn't even remember what I had been thinking when I took them. It was an effectively blunt lesson in the inability to transmit across mental states. I'm happy I learned it because now I can (mostly) just leave today's trip in the forest as a trip in the forest. I had it, and I felt it, and the pictures (which I did take) don't need to match the reality I experienced.
I feel as though I've tapped into something lately, and as much as I don't want to lose it, I also have to be prepared to let it go. Something opened in me, and the thing about openings is that they also close. I'm just happy to have been given this glimpse. I'm going to ride this wave, and when it drops me on the shore, I'll watch it recede with gratitude and wonder.