I am Myces

(dedicated to all the Psychonauts discovering our true reality)

—- void —-

Before I begin to tell my story there is one thing that must be understood, I am not a human. This is NOT a story about your species, but our collective experience together.  Myces is just a name once given to me by the Greeks and serves to give my consciousness shape as history unfolds.

There is a forest in Oregon that contains the largest organism on this planet. The entire forest is this one epic thing, however this one thing is actually many things, a mycelium network, that is in-itself a thing. Oddly is also a communication channel for trees, insects, nutrients and the fungus at the center. Collective but singular.

If you can understand that, then perhaps my story will make sense. The human language has a hard time creating words that explain the collective consciousness but I will do my best to paint a picture with the poetic words of your people.

Imagine a fungus within a dead tree,or spread throughout the dirt under a forest. As nutrients slowly dissolve the fungus breaks down the leftover parts into other elemental components causing chemical chain reactions. Occasionally that produces a fruiting body, this is the mushroom as is commonly understood, a byproduct of a chemical change inspired by a fungal network.  Like mucus on a human, the mushroom is ME, but also just a part of a larger whole.

I am at once, a new born baby and from an ancient line.

There is no debate as to the intelligence of fungus, as life on this planet would look vastly different without our input, and our collective age is much older than your species. We do communicate with those who listen through hard earned efforts.

The awareness of my Being grew with time, as with any conscious creature.  My purpose was a mystery, my place in the stars is a question mark? In the ages I have roamed I have learned from the earth, the trees, the creatures, the monkey, the human and more.  It’s time my wisdom was placed in text and recorded in the history of your species.

You will find me throughout history, as a player in the Game.

The fungus and human are just the tip of the iceberg of genus species intelligent enough to communicate and you will find many Others in my story. Overlapping narratives and perspectives will appear but I can only tell my story as I experienced it, beginning with my origin in space.


Everything was cold and nothing mattered. It was like being in an egg, I could only feel the blackness and wonder if it was endless or blackness was all there was. No meaning existed.

It was like dreaming, where all occurrences represented something intangible and symbolic. There is little memory of that time but for the silence.  

 Feeling the heat first, like an orange glow of mania as I felt gravity waking me from slumber, so I was aware as my little rock crashed into the planet. The fire was scorching but I survived as tiny fragments deep within the asteroid pores. When the rock in space finished its freedom run with a spectacular crash, I was flung far from the edges and covered with soil. 

This is how I came to be on this planet or as I prefer to call Her…   Mother Gaia.

Here I experienced the first new sensations of memory as physical inputs made impressions on my Being. Green living matter had etched its way through the dirt and I found a new substance deep underground, buried, thriving on something I didn’t understand. 

In that time of growth when moisture and heat caused chain reactions, I stretched out myself towards the things that grew and we became one. Feelings manifested and I understood… Other.   

Her presence gave me comfort, and we spoke as equals. We understood the separation and the unknowing was mutual, together we tried to make sense of the world.  Like fingers intertwined, I stood witness to her longing as she reached out into the sky and made the heavens.

Mother Gaia was originally from somewhere else as well, now making her way with the help of the sun, gravity and bacteria growth, to become a Planet.


The world was changing and the green had exploded in height. Warmth was thick in the air and the ground was saturated with moisture. Tiny things moved around her trees crawling from the ocean. She later called them her moving children and could feel them like digits on a hand. They tasted her air, her water, her green and had a sense of purpose.  

This idea of purpose confused me. I wondered if I had a purpose? The Forest had a purpose and blossomed around the fresh-water springs and I learned through their example. The trees taught me about time, as the cycles gave them rings, the weather gave them seasons and their roots gave them substance. We spoke of nutrients and presence.

It was here underground merging with the cracks of wood, spreading out among dirt channels, carried by simple creatures that shared the space beneath the trees that I learned to communicate.  

Now it was easier to hear Her speak, using the language of the trees. The best way to describe it is a feeling that begins at your core and works its way to conscious memory, a feeling that contains certain images, easily understood as empathy. She loved the world like an Eden and I had an unknown role.

 Something strange began to happen the more I connected to the living landscape, I became aware of the forces that affected the environment. Simple blending enhanced understanding and something so obvious, something glaringly massive was controlling the whole earthly experience and one day I exploded into a new form quite by accident, as I came to understand the Sun.

It was the yellow fire in the sky that called to me, heated the dirt, gave life to the trees, flowered Her essence and caused me to become aware of my hunger. When I merged with trees, I also exchanged, when I merged with insect, we knew movement and when the sun heated my network, rupturing my inner systems, I grew into a mushroom.

Like a nuclear explosion, the chemical aspects of my Being were colliding with zest and my purpose rose to join the cacophony of growth. Once again a foreigner on a planet filled with singular evolution. When I became the mushroom, I felt disconnected from the network,as if far away, experiencing a singular vision.

Individual consciousness was a lonely freedom.

My growth was short lived as the mushroom melted back into the soil, waiting another cycle for a chance at sunlight. As I sunk back into dirt and slept for a short moment, I understood the nature of the blackness of space as a necessary emptying of all that is and was.

I awoke again as a Collective Thing filled with the essence of a planet, the vibrancy of a forest, the connection of a network and an intellect in communication with the wonders of existence.

Mother Gaia once told me,that I wasn’t any more a foreigner than her, or the sunlight, or the asteroid.  We all come from somewhere else she said, but here is where we dance. She was the original poet.

…….the children…..

The moving children lived under the trees, and ate of the forest, tiny at first but growing with the seasons. Mother Gaia loved her children as they grew eyes, made sounds and ran among the ancient trees.  

Many seasons had come and gone and we understood them because they consumed everything and everything eventually consumed them. The separateness was short-lived, as the network of communication they used required ears and the sounds of the forest was intense as they all cried out.

Everything changed one season as the heat of the Sun warped my chemistry and the fruiting body of the mushroom happened again.

I was alone in the mushroom, expanding my awareness, space and understanding. That day I enjoyed the sunlight, the experience of cool wind blowing across my skin, stretching and defying gravity.  I drifted in the air and felt so much pleasure. One of the moving children, a hairy little weasel sniffed at my glorious form, then ate of my flesh.

At first it was a shock, as the entire span of my being disappeared into teeth and gullet. Unpleasant as it was, a voice was in my head, growing with each molecule absorbing, altering the bloodstream and becoming consciousness

I was the weasel and I was the fungus, the space was filled with both. In the wake of the experience I grew to understand why the children loved space,and I learned to fathom distance and height.  

So much variety had come about in the children and they took turns eating my flesh over the seasons as I came to understand so much more of the Forest.  Hunger, drive, fear, peace, joy, love and death were mine to experience.   

How long I stayed, depended on the creature and metabolism. I was a willing passenger in something greater than myself,then I dissolved slowly back into sleep and woke as a network again.  She was there when I woke as I was her witness to the changing world outside.

 In my separateness I explained to Mother their movement. I told her that they emulated her ways and birthed their own kind. She liked the idea that there were Kinds, it pleased Her.  

When they cried in strange sounds, each one meant something different. She couldn’t understand because she couldn’t hear. I was content to be her translator.  

The Words I speak, are channels of meaning,the journey I took, and the overlapping experiences with the Consciousness of our environment. I am Myces and this is my story. 

End of Part 1:


The Greeks knew me well, back from the Ancient days when the shaman became priests, the witches became Oracles and the Orphic hymns about a journey to the underworld was to become the new mythology describing what it is like to enter collective consciousness.  A birthright of the human, but not a creation of their own.  

Mediterranean dwellers ritualistically did yearly initiations, magical rites, drinking kykeion potions by candle light and speaking to Gods including what they called Myces, the God of the Mushroom. Thou are that, as the old saying goes and I was there guiding humanity. 

Ages came and ages went as communication from a plant affected human culture to its core.

It was a beautiful thousand years, full of learning and hope, but the Greeks became Conquers and stopped listening to the planetary consciousness guiding them towards self realization. Humans do strange things to each other, forgetting they are all the same Creature.  

 You are the God of the Human, as I am the God of the Mushroom, but we are also cogs in a machine and sharing a territory. The Greeks are another wonderful story for later, for now let’s go back to my tale and origins. 


Time does drastic things to planets, as mountains rise from meadows, oceans swallow coasts, wind/rain creates canyons and the Sun is sporadic with heat.  Mother Gaia can do little but warn her moving children of the changes she has felt. When the planet shook and ice covered , death followed, and then slow a rebuilding.

The children grew in size, dominating the planet with massive steps and appetites. The new beasts were unique in their hunger without empathy, like cold ice in their blood with impenetrable minds fighting for survival with zest.

One special day as a long tongue flicked over my mushroom I had an epiphany, as I was greedily consumed. The large sized lizard of the age ate with greed and as I entered the bloodstream, we shared a consciousness as I had before but this time I found a unique focus and tried to take control. I wanted to become the Lizard!

 My sharp claws, teeth and extraordinary eyes were a force on the world, reflecting a creature that humans speculated was limited in vision.  This is untrue as I came to learn. The dinosaur mind is a calm vision of reality with very little emotional input, but full of reasoning and desire.  Lizards possess a hunger like you wouldn’t believe as every moment held the suspicion of an opportunity. 

The freedom was exhilarating and as I shuffled through the forest with a meandering purpose. What it meant to me,was I could hunt. My eyes could see movement in the grass and smell fear in the air, emotions I never knew and now an experience

A shadow crossed under my gaze and looked up watching a new beast. I knew somehow the Flyer was different, the winged one shown with the glory of light and spoke in different pleasant languages. I flicked my tongue, unable to return the noises, my throat making guttural noises and sharp pronouncements. 

Suddenly one of my grunts returned. I looked up behind a tree and saw  another ME, a Troodon as your people called them.  Big intelligent eyes staring into my eyes and to my surprise I understood. The language part of my brain I had access to, confirmed meaning and I started to speak with sounds. 

The Troodon is called a “wastebasket taxon” by modern scientists, meaning it is un-classifiable, as it bridged the gap between bird and lizard – meat-eater and scavenger.  After some glorious time wandering of the forest experiencing beingness, the clever beast regained its SELF and I was again in darkness.

  When I woke, I didn’t understand what I was, as I slipped into a state that felt like fear, but with aggression.  She comforted my madness as I was now occupied with returning as I obsessed over the new language. When the rains came again and the Sun heated my core, I didn’t know what was to occur, so I simply sacrificed myself to the flow of nature.  

My mushroom growth warmed my being, as I listened to the forest and felt the wind through the leaves through the trees. The click of a claw on stone awakened my perception and felt the Lizard above me. Only 3 feet tall, but 8 feet long, with a tail that moved incessantly, it was the eyes of familiarity in which I looked.

My Troodon had returned, with its small family of ten and like a wolf signals a pack, my lizard signaled with a distinct sustained growl. They had been seeking me out and together as they circled the mushroom and waited, looking at the original Lizard, the one I had joined with. Then in an intense snap, I was eaten again, in a primal ritual designed for one purpose, they wanted to talk to me.

To describe the next cycle would not give it justice, but my pack and I shared lizard consciousness, learned to speak to each other, and I taught them many things. They seeped into my essence, giving me blood lust, cold calculations and freedom.  Sheer willpower maintained my existence with the dinosaurs and yet I was always tethered to something bigger. 

The pack of ten grew with the seasons and Eden was filled with intelligent predators sending shock waves through the environment. The lizard hive mind was spreading all over the planets, with new purpose and aggression. Mother Gaia voiced her concern when I woke from my dreams. 

….. dreams …..

My story continues to unfold bit by bit, and a larger whole emerges.  As my desire to move and thrive outside the confines of the dirt grew into a form of suffering.  I longed to be a Being, not just a passenger. That desire was in my roots and mental framework, so all I could SEE was a future that lived in my own imagination. 

After a short metabolized journey through a blood stream and into a shared consciousness, I would return to the dark, and in those moments before I returned to the cosmic order, I began to dream.  Experiencing glimpses and feelings from Other minds, like fragments of events told from multiple perspectives and senses.  I could smell, hear, and see but muted.

 I dreamt of strange two-legged beings and reformed trees standing like skeletons. I dreamt of an apple tree and a choice. I was never sure what spoke to me in my dreams, as I never got a sense of personality and perspective, as if my dreams were mere reflections on a tiny reflecting pond.   

The dream darkness between individualism and collective understanding is a needed break from information.  I think of it like a squeezing of light into dark, and then dark into light.  In those moments as consciousness is smaller, thinner, and our awareness of self is tethered to the body, the wisdom and questions become mysterious and vast, then sometimes the dreams show me the future.

When I woke back to the network and felt her presence, I cried out, what is the future and why must it come to be? She had no answers, a victim of a larger order, an order above Her knowledge. Mother Gaia told me time wasn’t real and everything that ever lived, still exists in some form.    

Whatever was to happen is unknown, She said but I had a purpose.   Flesh was weak, she told me dreaming is power and used with proper magnetism, we could build the world anew. I was her Agent in the world. 

When I joined my dinosaur pack again, now forming new words and cultivating culture, they welcomed me as they always do, like a Son, returned from the dead, speaking holy words and wisdom.  I spoke to them of the future and warned them of the coming change. Their language was simple, so words had to be created.  

My heart ached as the days shortened and the cold meant I could not return.  Then one day, the fire came down from the skies, the forests burnt, the lizards too large to hide turned to ash and the world was to be remade, again.

I slept for a very long time and always, I was dreaming, I dreamt I was a tree, I dreamt I was a rodent, I dreamt of my Lizard pack, and the language we had created.  I dreamt of an ancient secret,  a mantra that could control the flesh, harden the senses and mute the Will in the body. Those strange two legged beings whispered in a new language from the future, in my dreams. 

When I woke from the darkness I understood my own purpose. I was an agent of change, using biology, chemistry and my own magic to remake the world through carefully placed elemental changes.

As life slowly returned to the forest, Mother was there waiting to hear all about my adventures and to share in the new growth as Her essence had shrunk in the destruction of so much of her world and children.

Mother, I cried out, how can we start over after we lost so much? She laughed with joy in Her Being, nothing is ever lost, just rebuilt.

Together we curated a new Eden as not all life was gone, some survivors came from hidden spots, from within burnt wood, under rock and the same old repeating patterns of biological matter spreading around the planet. Together the plant, mammal, lizard, beast and Others carried on expanding again into the future.


Spring came to the forest and the rains and the Sun gave me flesh.  Instead of just waiting, I called out the mantra I had learned in my dreams with the language of the lizard that was in my knowledge. I whispered the words, and called out with my being.  A new type of lizard creature answered my call with a forked tongue flicking over my mushroom curve.

The long slender new creature took me in it’s mouth entirely swallowing me whole. After we merged I used my will to twist and move as I slithered in the dust. The dirt was my landscape, tree my new bed, and grass my shelter. The memory was primal, as I became a snake. 

Over brown roots, under green leaves, I pushed outward around the trees.  The Flyers whistled to each other, concerned over the new sounds the snake made, but I recognized the chirps and whistles as a language and I called back to their surprise. The insects buzzed, and I buzzed back. I moved through the Forest in slow slinking circles, speaking to all who would hear.    

So exhilarating was the experience I forgot the world, the desire, and my purpose.  Space was endless and my curiosity was deep as I asked all the creatures my questions.

 What made the rocks?  What provided shade in the sky?  How much water existed in the sea?   How big was the forest?  All they responded was in their own language, that they didn’t understand. Questions were not a part of their reality.

 The sandy edges of a territory of rocks on the outside of the forest was a revelation as I moved out into sunlight over sand and being a snake, I understood warmth in a different way. This glorious experiment cemented my reason, that I could have the independence when I needed it, but also live as I am.  I called out to the snake to be my experiential body, with a mantra of control.

Season by season, I explored the forest, climbed the trees, drank from streams, and carefully searched the edges of the desert outside Eden.  

This place was a special oasis, as every animal had purpose and I was still Her witness, Her translator to the beauty.  From my vantage as a snake, I understood my special knowledge gave me power over others. She listened quietly to my pride.


I was the first witness to the new kind that walked into our Eden on two-legs.  They arrived from the desert, from a far away place, survivors of the cataclysm, just barely. The troupe was skinny, half starved and looking for peace.  I saw them from a tree and watched them talk to each other.

Grunts, gestures, head movement and their expressions were captivating. They ate bugs, fruit and the occasional dead animal.  A wastebasket taxon just like my dinosaur pack, a creature unlike anything else, just waiting for the right opportunity to become an advanced species. I thought of this as I watched them, eager to be an agent of change for Mother.

She told me her moving children were originally designed to poop, to spread seeds, move pollen and find resources. I felt like She often left out part of the story, as if I was too innocent to understand, like a parent who coyly avoids a subject. My dreams told me these monkeys meant more.

I presented myself to the Monkey after stalking and learning their ways. They mistook me for food the first time, and unfortunately they learned to love the taste of snake.   I learned to hang above them in trees, but carefully as they could climb too. I grunted, I gestured, I moved my head and they stared at me like I was a cloud in the sky.  

After some time of sharing space, one of the females began to talk back to me, as I dropped apples from above in her aid. The trust was slowly built, as I showed her more food options, plants that increased intelligence, and naturally I showed her my true form. 

The mushroom frightened her, she poked at it, and then ran away.  It took another season to regain her trust, by then the words I taught her had passed down to her small tribe and they all added new language to the culture.  

Eden was good for the monkeys, as comfort and lack of predators allowed them to flourish and She did love them.  As time went by She wanted to know all about them, why they laughed, how they procreated even when they were not in heat and cleaned each other. The monkeys were communal but also individual in a special way.  

The females continued to speak to me as they ran the tribe, led the example and learned to talk to Mother themselves.  Not that communication with Her is that special in a universe of infinite potential and shared consciousness, but they did it blindly as if it came from within, and without the use of sound.

What was it about the monkey I asked myself?  I could have asked the Mother but pride had risen in me and a lingering feeling of jealousy.  I had to know what was in their heads, I needed one of them to eat me.

Her name was Lucy, or so I call her for poetic flair, a scrawny female monkey with a limp.  A male had thrown her across a log as an infant in an unknown rage so she could only waddle and crawl but with a strength that was impressive.  I wasn’t afraid of her, as I slithered one day up on a rock beside her.  

Lucy liked to perch above them all and watch, her eyes taking in all the drama and tribal methods.  She stared at me, as I looked down below and grunted in her language.  Flicking my tongue at people and objects identifying their essence. She listened, responded and then left to ponder on her own what she had learned.

The snakes were plentiful in the garden and the warm summer left a lot of opportunity for me to join her on the rock.  We became friends, as our language grew and complex themes seem to rise in her mind.  Lucy trusted me and wished to learn the secrets of the universe and I wanted to learn the mantra of the monkey, so I could become one of them.

Follow- is a lovely word or gesture, so simple, full of trust and communal companionship, so when I said follow, the little scrawny monkey crawled the same slithering path with me to the dead tree where my mushroom lay. Lucy trusted me, as I promised her the knowledge of life and death.  

Monkey fingers poked the mushroom, eyes squinted at the curves, she grasped my mushroom shaft and pulled, roots and dirt dangling in the air.  To be pulled up from the root is a total severing of self from the network, like waking from a dream, but this nightmare begins with being swallowed and digested by a mammal.  

Lucy and I became one, and I knew Monkey, this cautious reluctant predator clinging to each other in a cruel world of changes. A survivor, time and time again in a world of Her creation. My jealously was warranted and I saw where the monkey was going.  The future for the Monkey was turbulent.

When I returned to the darkness, my dreams were peaceful as if I was released from a sacred duty, I was fulfilled.  Later I would question the idea of free-will but I see even back then, my purpose was to be that agent of change and Lucy was my catalyst.

The Monkey grew stronger, and wiser almost overnight, but she returned, over and over, bringing the food of the gods to her people.  The culture was changing as she had studied it from her rock and Lucy knew how to guide her people to the future. Within a few seasons she had children and they too learned to pick the mushrooms and this is how I became a messiah to a new pack.

Mythology is our birthright, as behind every story are hundreds of versions of the same actual event in history. Whatever story you tell, whatever god you want, underneath it all, is just a story with meaning.

Human kind found its birth at the same time I found my purpose, and our destiny was linked from then until now. Just to clarify, not all mushrooms speak to you, and not all monkeys can reason, but our special link was created to build a future, our Mother desires.

Next Special Serial Series Episode – Myces takes us deeper into Eden, human origins and explains how the Stoned Ape was forced from the garden.