It’s that time of year, folks. In just two short weeks, we’ll rip the plastic from our zany kitten calendars and script the screenplay for 2026. Spoiler alert: it’s another sequel in which we leg-wrestle our past, avenge our darlings, and vanquish the cartoon villains that left us tied to the railroad tracks.

It’s a time for serious introspection. For grace and patience. And to get plain old weird and revel in the joy of new beginnings. Yeah it wouldn’t be December, if I didn’t let my hair down and do some psychedelic caroling…

A few years ago, my wife and I found ourselves  traveling through Friuli, a semi-autonomous region in Northern Italy. While roadtripping to the Dolomites, we made a pilgrimage to San Daniele to sample some of their famous prosciutto.

What does this have to do with psilocybin therapy? I thought you’d never ask…

Part old-school cooperative and part healing center, the prevailing mantra at 7 Gates is access for all.

Last month, during a psilocybin session, my client looked up, made eye contact and exclaimed, “Arlo, this is not what I expected at all. I know you tried to tell me; I thought I knew, but I had no idea.” Keep in mind, he wasn’t angry or disappointed. Rather, he was feeling some visceral catharsis after navigating unresolved trauma, and the realization was punctuated by baritone fits of laughter.

This morning I woke up with a stabbing pain under my shoulder blade. Maybe I slept on it wrong. Maybe I dreamed I was an underwater arm wrestling champion. Or maybe just maybe, I tweaked the muscle a few days ago, ignored it, and now it’s returned with a knife in its teeth…

As a person struggling with depression and anxiety, I had no use for fluffy aphorisms—they seemed so removed from my version of reality that I felt the urgent need to clap back.

It’s no secret. Epiphanies don’t last forever and neuroplasticity eventually wanes. That said, there are a myriad of ways to support neuroplasticity in the aftermath of our journeys and no, they don’t involve taking another macro dose of mushrooms.

Anecdotal roundups from dozens of clinical trials report the same thing—the deeper the trust between client and facilitator, the more profound and positive the experience tends to be.

And that’s why screening calls are so dang important.

One of the most important things I do for my clients while we’re preparing for a guided mushroom journey is coaching folks on how to drop into the experience. Even if you’ve tripped before, apprehension tends to bubble up to the surface as we begin to feel the medicine enter our bodies and start flicking all those light switches in the cobwebbed corners of our minds.