(Extract)
Liberty Cap is a curious name for a type of fungus (Psilocybe semilanceata), particularly for one which now, if picked on British soil, can result in your incarceration. I think my favourite thing about these little mushrooms, probably due to their being so of-the-earth, is that they seem to awaken a connection to the land, to unite us with the genius loci, the spirit of the place. They also grant us with the mythopoetic licence to range freely in the realm of legend, archetype and symbolic significance. Magical associations can be found sprawled dreamily across the contours of the senses, and synchronicities collide all around with a suspicious ease. They also nudge you towards a notion of the interconnectedness of everything. And like their own secret underground orgy, having multitudinous genders and a mind-bogglingly complex tangle of subterranean sexual intimacies, they reveal a subconscious lattice of symbolic associations in all events and things. Existence becomes timeless, at once both futuristic and ancestral, and chronology becomes an anachronism. Sacred sites exude remembrance and ancient structures impart psychometric visions when embraced. It’s more than just a suspicion that liberty caps are capable of emancipating mind from the shackles of time.
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