ISHAM COOK

CANNABIS AND MASSAGE

Depending on the source, as of 2026 Thailand had anywhere from 11,000 to 28,000 massage businesses (Board; “How many”). It also had, again depending on the source, anywhere from 11,200 to 18,000 cannabis (marijuana) dispensaries, though their number is expected to plunge due to tightening restrictions on the plant’s sales for recreational as opposed to medical purposes (“Cannabis”; “Thailand”). These figures supposedly designate official massage and cannabis shops; there are surely many more unofficial and fly-by-night operations.

In few countries can you find as many legally operating massage and cannabis businesses per capita. Legal or decriminalized cannabis is available in Canada, parts of the U.S., and a growing number of European and Latin American countries. Massage and spa businesses are widely available everywhere but in developed countries tend to be quite expensive—up to USD $100 for an hour’s massage. Though massage is plentiful and cheap in all Southeast Asian countries, they can’t beat the overall quality of massage in Thailand, and nowhere in this region is cannabis anywhere close to being legal except Thailand.

Of course, with a stash of weed (wherever acquired) you’re welcome to explore marijuana massage in the privacy of your own home with your lover or spouse. Anyone can do massage. Straddled atop your partner, you channel your upper weight through your hands onto their flesh with a little oil. When I refer to massage in what follows, I mean the profession, performed by trained and experienced bodyworkers who can do things to you that casual, unskilled massage cannot. That’s why Thailand is the ideal place to investigate massage on marijuana.

While massage and marijuana naturally go together, the Thai Government does not permit cannabis to be sold or consumed in massage venues, nor will you find any cannabis dispensaries offering massage. Both industries sit uneasily in the government’s sights, massage in a legal gray area which even at its politest inevitably overlaps with the massive sex industry; and cannabis only since 2022, in the first and only Asian country to allow medical and, reluctantly, recreational use. I’m told many older-generation Thais don’t approve of the drug, so it will take some time for cannabis to gain more widespread cultural acceptance in the country.

The legal situation changes by the day. On my recent visit to Bangkok in July of 2026, some massage shops advertised massage with “cannabis oil” or “CBD oil.” CBD or cannabidiol is the non-intoxicating compound of the plant that has certain anesthetic and relaxant properties (it’s evidently not possible to get high through topical applications of THC, the intoxicating compound). In Chiang Mai, however, one massage shop’s menu had its previous offering of “CBD oil massage” crossed out. The owner said it was the latest regulation. Just a bit too sexy for the government’s comfort, it seems.

In Thailand’s more touristy areas, there are so many cannabis and massage shops that they can often be seen side by side, or a cannabis dispensary will be squeezed between two massage shops. Bangkok’s legendary backpacker neighborhood, Khao San Road, has a whole cannabis emporium, Plantopia Weed City, with several dozen shops (though some were shuttered when I visited) and a central seating area for smoking. Many dispensaries have café-like seating for smoking, and some restaurants have designated smoking sections. In Pai, I saw cannabis sellers set up rows of booths on Walking Street. And in all Thai cities there are massage shops everywhere you turn, paralyzing you with choice. If we’re not allowed to get high in a massage venue, then, it’s a simple enough matter to do it next door before stepping in for a massage. Massage workers must be well accustomed to customers smelling of weed.

In fact, so many people must be toking up for a massage in Thailand that I feel there’s not much point in writing about it. Nobody needs any convincing that cannabis makes massage more intense, exquisite, and memorable. This equally applies whether the massage is strictly therapeutic, merely relaxing, or erotic. I’m not sure what I could possibly say about massage and cannabis that isn’t better served by going out and doing it yourself. For this reason, I will not be writing about cannabis-charged massage in what follows.

PSYCHEDELICS AND MASSAGE

Things get more interesting when we consider massage and one of the psychedelic drugs—psilocybin (magic mushrooms), LSD, mescaline, ayahuasca, DMT, or MDMA (Ecstasy). Marijuana and hashish are often classified as mild psychedelics and can produce psychedelic-like effects, though generally without hallucinations. But even at high doses they don’t approach the profundity of a psilocybin or LSD experience. Consume too much cannabis and you simply pass out or get sick. The experience is never transformative or life changing as it can be with the “classic” psychedelics.

Then there are the various possible drug combinations, of which there is already an extensive literature, “candy flipping” for instance—combining LSD and MDMA. Softening the harder edges of an acid or mushroom trip with MDMA could be ideal for massage (MDMA is loosely classified as a psychedelic but is more precisely an empathogen-entactogen). Why not opium (a narcotic), mushrooms, and massage for that matter? The possibilities of applying any combination of psychedelics, including cannabis, to various massage modalities are endless. They are also beyond the scope of this essay, which only scratches the surface of a still volatile topic—psychedelics-mediated massage—no one yet seems to be writing about.

The following is one person’s initial investigations into the effects of a single psychoactive substance, psilocybin, on six massage sessions over a three-week period. I stick to one drug since there are already a number of massage variables to deal with and we don’t want to complicate matters too much. Nor will I be wading into higher-dose territory. I leave it to daredevil psychonauts to tell us about ego death on the massage table. My purpose is to calibrate the right amounts of psilocybin to mesh with massage such that neither overwhelms the other but boost each other in unforeseen and fascinating ways. That means starting small and working our way up incrementally.

Apart from alcohol, nicotine, caffeine, betel nuts, and cannabis, no other psychoactive drugs are legal in Thailand. Psilocybin and other psychedelics are undergoing government-sanctioned clinical trials in a growing number of countries as potential medicines for PTSD, depression, anxiety, and terminal-illness, and Thailand is planning to launch its own. But that’s for the future. It is presently illegal to possess and consume psilocybin in Thailand.

It is not hard to find. When I inquired about mushrooms at the first cannabis dispensary I tried in Bangkok, the seller pulled out a box from under the counter. In it were all kinds of edible goodies. I bought a heart-shaped piece of chocolate containing a gram’s worth of Albino Penis Envy, and a jellied candy containing a gram’s worth of a strain or brand labeled Picmi. He said the candy was stronger than the chocolate and thus more expensive (the reverse turned out to be the case). In my first cannabis dispensary in Chiang Mai, the seller pulled out a jar of dried white mushrooms with white caps. He wasn’t sure of the strain. I guessed Albino Penis Envy or Jack Frost.

Not every cannabis seller offers psilocybin. I checked out more shops in Chiang Mai out of curiosity. All knew exactly what mushrooms were (no translation dictionary needed) and none had any for sale. Presumably the risk is too high for comfort, especially for the larger, more prominent stores. Yet busting cannabis dispensaries for psilocybin cannot be the police’s top priority, otherwise no one would sell it. It’s easy enough for the cops to peak behind the counter of any shop they walk into. And I doubt the delinquents would get anything more than a fine. I’d wager the government is quietly allowing the mushroom to creep in and keep a close eye on what happens as it considers what to do with the drug. But caution is still advised, particularly for foreigners in Thailand.

If we want to go about it in a scientific way, we’d reduce all variables to one: time. Each psychedelic experience can vary even with the same psychedelic and dose, as the drug peels back layers of the ego like an onion. We would want to set up a longitudinal study to track changes over time while controlling for the dosage and the massage. The problem is we don’t know the dosage. That’s what I want to find out. There is another drug variable here, the psilocybin strain. Some argue that all strains of the most commonly consumed species of magic mushroom, Psilocybe cubensis, are experientially the same, others that the strains produce distinctly different effects. I tend to support the mounting anecdotal evidence that the strains vary. The perfect strain for massage is, again, what I want to find out.

THE MASSAGE VARIABLES

As for controlling for the massage, we would ideally, scientifically speaking, employ a massage machine or humanoid massage robot. I’ve heard that massage work will be one of the last remaining occupations after AI eliminates all others, but a massagebot industry, like the burgeoning sexbot industry, is certainly in the pipeline. Personally, I find the idea of massage robots repellent. I want to be massaged by a person—and by different people. But as soon as we involve people, the massage variables quickly multiply well beyond our ability to control for them.

To keep things simple, we’d request the same treatment by the same person every time, with the same specific focus, such as deep-tissue work on the back, which normally occupies the bulk of any massage session. In order to achieve this level of consistency, we need to find the right massage worker. This requires much preliminary, trial-and-error exploration due to the numerous variables:

• Price range and venue type. Massage venues in Thailand range from luxurious New Age spas with private rooms to dirt-cheap makeshift spaces crammed with narrow tables separated by curtains, from big chain establishments with a large team of workers to tiny shops run by one.
• Quality inconsistency. There is no strict correlation between price and quality. You can get an indifferent massage in an expensive shop and an extraordinary one in an inexpensive shop. A highly recommended five-star rated shop on Tripadvisor doesn’t necessarily mean anything; customers have different standards of quality and ratings can be highly subjective.
• Staff variation. Similarly, the staff in one and the same venue may vary greatly in their skill and expertise and their approach to massage. One masseuse’s treatment may be superb while another’s is incompetent. Some are into their job, others not. This is immediately felt through their fingertips.
• The human factor. Massage workers are human and their treatments may vary based on mutual chemistry, how well both of you hit it off. If they are attracted to you, that will manifest in the massage in subtle or not-so-subtle ways. The customer’s own attitude will affect the treatment. Rude customers shouldn’t be surprised if their massage isn’t stellar. Customers’ own experience with massage can affect the treatment.
• Sexual vs. nonsexual massage. Most shops do not engage in sexual massage and will refuse such requests, but you cannot determine this from the appearance of a shop. You may receive a technically superb therapeutic massage which unexpectedly turns erotic. Males are more likely to encounter this; they can discourage sexual touching by keeping their underwear on (most venues in Thailand do not provide disposable underwear as in other Asian countries, only a towel or sheet).

A few general points based on my many hundreds of massages over the decades throughout Southeast Asia and China. I like smaller shops with just one or two masseuses more than larger top-down run establishments that impose rigid guidelines on their massage workers, reducing flexibility in the masseuse-client encounter. I go for older masseuses, who are not only more experienced but friendlier and more at ease with men and male bodies. I disregard a masseuse’s looks, which has no bearing on the quality of her massage. I try to choose masseuses who show an interest in me (eye contact, body language), even if that interest is only mercenary. On the whole, the friendlier a masseuse is, the better the massage.

While some massage workers draw a strict line at any form of sexual touching, others quite enjoy giving groin massage. If someone massaging me is skilled at this, why in the world would I refuse? The body includes the genitals, and I cannot find any ethical or practical grounds for dichotomizing sexual from nonsexual massage. The dichotomy is an industry convention to give massage workers legal protection in a puritanical environment. I abide by these strictures where required but prefer to interact with massage workers of like mind. Moreover, the therapeutic, sensual, erotic, and sexual styles of massage fall on a continuum and can’t be neatly divided up. The best massages move seamlessly along this continuum. I refuse on principle to draw an unnecessary and arbitrary line between “sexual” and “nonsexual” massage, and this applies as well to psychedelic massage in what follows. The only important criterion is technical skill and enthusiasm for the job.

A note on terminology. I prefer the concise masseuse and masseur to the cumbersome and gender-vague massage therapist. I am not intentionally being gender biased when mentioning masseuses. Massage workers of any gender may be preferred by customers of any gender. Indeed, I often go for masseurs, just not in the following sessions.

A FEW MORE PRELIMINARIES

Let’s say you’ve found your perfect masseuse. She is technically proficient with a whole toolbox of techniques, and she happily eroticizes your massage should you wish it. She does house calls so you can set up consistently delivered psychedelic massage sessions in the comfort of your home or hotel. The problem is, the better they are at massage, the less consistent they tend to be. The reason for this is they have the rare gift of varying their treatments, whereas most massage workers lack the creativity to step out of their one-size-fits-all routine and are consistent to a fault. You need to decide whether you want consistency or creativity, though the latter is another variable.

This raises the question of whether it’s necessary or even preferable to be massaged by the same person. I’m a variety man and more inclined to try out a different massage worker each time (of whatever gender). The advantage of a new person is the element of surprise and the unexpected. Once you’ve been massaged by someone, you cannot fully repeat the experience, because you already know how it’s going to unfold in that person’s hands the next time round. It may be the very same treatment yet it’s changed because it’s now a known rather than an unknown. The drama is gone. There is an exception to this: a series of massages that become ever more intimate, culminating possibly in full-blown sex and a relationship. Your massage with a person is already a relationship. It’s natural that it will evolve over a number of sessions.

Besides the changeable nature of a massage relationship, two more immediate questions arise that are pertinent to psychedelic massage. First, should we inform the masseuse or masseur that we are high on mushrooms? I will go into this quandary in more detail below, as it arose in one of the sessions. It’s unlikely that any massage worker would object to massaging you while you’re high, but it could affect the dynamics in unforeseen positive or negative ways.

Second, should the person massaging you take the drug herself to share in the experience? I’d be curious to know if any massage workers in Thailand consume cannabis edibles on the job, whether because they are better at massage while high or it makes the day go faster. There must be a few. Far fewer, of course, in the case of psilocybin, which is still an esoteric drug in Thailand. Again, your massage partner, paid or not, might very well want to experience giving massage while high and sharing the mutual intoxication. And the same person might want to switch roles and be massaged by you. This leads to the question of sex on psilocybin. Sex on psychedelics deserves a book in its own right, and one that unabashedly joins these two topics without yoking them to some brand of therapy or spirituality (there is at least one, by Latimer).

A final point. The three common situations when people use eye masks are for blocking out light during sleep, for psychedelic sessions, and for massage (typically a folded hand towel placed over the eyes when supine), and these three situations have a common purpose. Eye masks help one to enter the hypnogogic state before sleep, a deep state of relaxation during massage, and to enable the profound closed-eye visions that unfold during a psychedelic trip. In all three situations, eye masks help release the mind into a purer state of play, without the distractions of the world of light. Of course, one can simply keep one’s eyes closed during massage or a psychedelic session rather than cover them. Many on psychedelics, however, prefer not to close their eyes. The way the visuals and hallucinations emerge and mesh with the visible world is fascinating in its own right and the very reason for tripping. I’ll have more to say on this below.

GRADING THE SESSIONS

There is no established standard for grading or rating the intensity of psychedelic experiences, but the following levels are typical (adapted from “Magic mushroom trip levels” and “Why the ‘museum dose’”). They roughly match up with the Shulgin Rating Scale, from renowned psychedelic chemist Alexander Shulgin’s PiHKAL: A Chemical Love Story, also known as Phenethylamines I Have Known and Loved (“Shulgin”). It must also be noted that higher-potency mushroom strains (the Penis Envy’s, Lucid Gates) may produce effects up to 50 percent stronger than medium-potency strains such as Golden Teacher. Thus the amounts that I consumed and their attendant effects do not always correspond to the chart.

The six sessions are arranged in increasing intensity of intoxication. This required me to depart slightly from chronological order (Session 1 took place after Session 2, and Session 3 took place after Session 4).

Level (Shulgin Rating Scale in parentheses)	Amount (dried mushroom)	Experience (Shulgin descriptions in parentheses)
0 (±) Microdose	0.1–0.3 grams	Sub-perceptual effects; subtle boost in mood and focus (threshold action).
1 (+) Museum dose	0.3–1 grams	Light high; enhancement of music, the arts, and nature (drug is active but nature of the drug’s effects not yet apparent).
2 (++) Mild trip	1–2.5 grams	Mild visuals, body high, euphoria; still fully in control (effects can be allowed a predominant role or may be repressible and made secondary to other chosen activities).
3 (+++) Classic trip	2.5–4 grams	Strong visuals, deep introspection, time distortion (subject is totally engaged in the experience, for better or worse).
4 (++++) “Heroic” dose	5–7 grams	Intense hallucinations, reality dissolution, ego disintegration (peak experience, state of bliss, participation mystique, connectedness with both interior and exterior universes).

THE PSILOCYBIN SESSIONS

Session 1: After effects
Massage shop, Bang Na neighborhood, Bangkok
Dose: 0.25 grams (Picmi jellied candy)
Intensity: Level 0 (Microdose)

As with all six sessions, I am somewhat apprehensive before taking the mushroom, a free-floating anxiety about losing control during the drug’s onset. I am not new to psychedelics, having had a number of powerful LSD experiences during my teens in the 1970s, including a bad trip, which was bad enough that I hadn’t touched any psychedelics apart from cannabis for forty years until my first mushroom experiences on four occasions between 2019–23. Those four experiences were pleasant and memorable, the last quite strong, just reaching Level 3. But oddly, I had never felt onset anxiety during my LSD experiences. Onset anxiety may be related to awareness and fear of death as one matures and ages. That is precisely the reason to get out of one’s comfort zone and face it square on. But even with so low a dose I still feel apprehensive. I also feel out of sorts today with a headache, which is compounding the anxiety.

I’m in a café with my wife, Chen, and I eat the jelly an hour before the massage. We plan to meet at a nearby restaurant after the massage, an hour and a half later. Massage businesses are in every neighborhood in Thailand, even outside the tourist areas. I find a shop not five minutes away on foot. It’s on the shabby side and seems to cater to elderly locals, with three massage tables, the last one with its curtain pulled back and a middle-aged woman standing atop a fully dressed male customer barefooting him. She indicates by cellphone translation that I’ll have to wait thirty minutes. Too much trouble. A few steps down the lane is another shop, a nicer one. This masseuse also has the shop to herself and greets me with a smile. She’s around 40 with short hair and a still attractive, dark-complexioned face. She asks if I want the massage table in the main room or the one in the back room, and I go for the latter, preferring the sense of privacy.

The shop is clean and tidy. She puts on New Age piano music as I get on the table naked and covers me with a towel. I seem to be feeling some onset of the mushroom but it could be a placebo effect. She’s quite good, with slow, sensuous stroking, though she carefully avoids grazing my scrotum, usually a sign the massage will remain chaste. When I turn over, she covers my midsection with the towel (after stealing a glance). With her forearm she then gradually works her way along my inner thighs up to and against the firm base of my erection, which pops out from under the towel. She wants to get more sexual. I never reject this if they’re initiating it and I’m in the mood. It’s rare in Asian countries for a massage worker to offer or agree to intercourse; the prostitutes work the bars not the massage shops. But the Thais are just a bit more relaxed about sex and it’s most likely to happen here.

While I felt no effects of the mushroom during the massage, I do afterwards. When I join Chen at the restaurant, I feel great. Not high, just really good. Massage itself can be a mood booster, but the decor of the upscale restaurant and the array of fusion dishes I’m struggling to choose among wouldn’t be clamoring for such attention after a good massage.

Session 2: Subtle effects
Naturist resort, Lat Phrao neighborhood, Bangkok
Dose: 0.3 grams (Albino Penis Envy chocolate)
Intensity: Level 1 (Museum dose)

The resort has a full massage menu, including Karsai massage, a traditional Thai therapeutic massage for the genitals for both men and women (see Karsai for an excellent video demonstration on a woman). I book a session for an hour later, enough time for the mushroom to kick in. They then inform me I have to start half an hour earlier due to another appointment. Chen joins me this time for the massage, in a small room with two tables. As it’s a nudist resort, no towels are needed, and our two masseuses also strip off. They choose us. Chen gets an overweight woman in her fifties. I get a slim woman in her thirties with nipple rings and an abstract tattoo design on her belly. My massage is sensuous in a predictable way, culminating in a competent handjob after I turn over. She tops off the remainder of the session with gentle work on my torso, neck, and head. Chen moans as her masseuse works her hand into her vagina. I feel the mushroom kicking in only near the end of the session.

Emerging from the massage room, I’m already feeling high. The resort’s centerpiece is a swimming pool surrounded on three sides by a roofed patio with deck chairs. In the pool, everything is bright, sparkling. When I relax in a chair with a beer, the wall at the pool’s far end begins to undulate, and the clouds gently churn in the windless sky. This is no microdose. I have a sudden insight. The blame for my mushroom onset fears can be laid entirely on the State. The State brainwashes us to internalize negative psychology as wholly our own and our own fault. It has a deep interest in cultivating anxiety in order to control us without our realizing it. The State intentionally makes people afraid without knowing what they are afraid of.

Anyway, I took the mushroom too late for the massage. I want another massage, with the older woman this time. She’s busy and I have to wait another hour. I request a normal massage, and she delivers a satisfying treatment, with some genital work but no direct stroking. The mushroom is already dissipating. With my eyes closed the imagery is more vivid and colorful than normal, if fleeting. For a brief moment an obscure female figure materializes, furiously massaging my leg with a contorted expression, a mixture of pain and sexual striving. I dub her the “squiggly woman,” in case I encounter her again.

The session over, I embrace the masseuse and give her breast an affectionate squeeze.

Session 3: Random neon show
Massage shop, Old City (southwest quadrant), Chiang Mai
Dose: 1.0 grams (Albino Penis Envy?, dried)
Intensity: Level 1 (Museum dose)

Forty minutes after eating the mushroom, a single stem and cap weighing exactly a gram on the digital scale in a cannabis dispensary, I step into a massage shop across from our guesthouse. I want to try a four-hands massage this time, I tell my masseuse, who doesn’t seem to understand. Another masseuse is sitting in the back room by the bathroom and I point to her to get my request across. Still, only the former lady shows up in my booth. I repeat the request. A minute later the boss, an attractive older woman with close-cropped gray hair, pops her head in exclaiming with a smile, “Ah, two person. Very good!” Unfortunately, my two masseuses lack coordination and stroke too quickly. It’s their first time at four-hands massage, which to be properly done must be synchronized. It will have to do. They’re friendly and playful enough, tickling my balls and giggling.

Behind closed eyes it’s livelier than the last session, but I can’t ascertain whether the images are merging with the massage, as I hoped they would. Like the stroking, they are random. Perhaps too many hands are involved. The sheet falls away when I’m face up. They’re hardly prudish, but they don’t know how to do the groin—more random stroking—and the images remain disconnected throughout the chaotic massage. But the neon show is mesmerizing, unspooling colorful ribbons of interlocking designs in primary colors with roller-coaster speed, only to vanish and be replaced by a new scene or vista, towering revolving carousels of turquoise-enameled bottles or capsules with gold-filigreed caps.

As I leave the shop, the boss embraces me. She seems attracted to me. I tell her I want her next time but I’m not sure she understands.

Session 4: The transparent body
Massage shop, Pathum Wan neighborhood, Bangkok
Dose: 0.7 grams (Albino Penis Envy chocolate)
Intensity: Level 2 (Mild trip)

After a morning tour of the Jim Thompson House by the Khlong Saen Saep Canal, we head for a hip coffeehouse nearby. It’s connected by hallway to an upscale spa overlooking the canal. An hour before our massage, I eat the remainder of the chocolate. Chen eats a half gram of the Picmi jelly. Again, the gloomy onset apprehension. The mushroom isn’t fun, it’s work. Albino Penis Envy is said to be more “introspective” than milder strains, which is to say more anxiety-inducing, especially considering I’m ingesting twice as much chocolate as previously. I’m unenthusiastic about it taking my afternoon away, but I have to stay on schedule. Of course, the anxiety is all a ruse perpetuated by the State to prevent me from answering the mushroom’s call.

We both feel the usual sensations coming on—a hot flush in the back of the neck, and I’m high by the time we enter the spa. We’re led upstairs to a small round room with two massage tables separated by a curtain. I sense it’s going to be a chaste treatment and my masseuse doesn’t disappoint in this regard. I have nothing against chaste massage as long as it’s a technically impressive massage. The problem is that their staying overcautiously on the safe side leaves one with a distinct feeling of incompleteness. If they’re not digging into your crevices, they’re not exerting the necessary thoroughness, and they can be thorough without lingering in the erogenous zones. On the other hand, the lackluster treatment means I can focus on the mushroom.

The neon show began as soon as I lie down on the massage table. The scenes are of stunning complexity and depth, like wearing 3D glasses in the cinema where distant objects zip right past you. The anxiety wheels are still turning by the time I’m face up but more slowly. Her stroking is starting to link up with the images, even generating them. As she slides her hands along one leg, behind closed eyes my leg is transparent and fills up with swirling colors in her hands’ wake. On her next upward stroke, shimmering white electric oil shoots from her hands.

The 90-minute session is over too soon. Chen did not get high but is feeling great and is very talkative as we head down Banthat Thong Road for dinner—her first microdose experience. Everything has a silly, amusement-park feel for me until the effects wear off an hour later.

Session 5: Liquified carpets
Massage shop, Old City (northeast quadrant), Chiang Mai
Dose: 1.5 grams (Albino Penis Envy?, dried)
Intensity: Level 2-3 (Borderline mild-classic trip)

For this next session, I try out a few shops the day before to line up someone who can provide a satisfying massage. I’m instinctively drawn to unusual establishments, and there’s one down a lane just minutes away from our guesthouse. Outside a vegan restaurant is a cardboard sign with “Massage 600 60 mins” scrawled in English. The price is high for a makeshift setup, when you can find smart New Age massage shops in the 400–500 Baht range. Ning, a trim-figured middle-aged lady with hair in a bun, greets me and leads me into the shop’s entrance, in the same house as the restaurant. I find myself in someone’s former bedroom. A thin mattress on the king-size bed frame serves as the massage table, while flush against a wall is an unused regulation-size massage table with a flower vase and other household items. She holds up a sheet as I undress and get on the bed naked. Her technique is not expert but it’s sensitive and mildly erotic. I’ll be depositing Chen in another shop even closer to the guesthouse, the same shop with “CBD oil” crossed out on the menu. I was less satisfied with their masseuse, but she had decent technique and will suit Chen’s preference for strong massage. We both plan on two-hour sessions.

I went back to the dispensary selling the same mushrooms I had with the four-hands massage. He only had small pieces and fragments left and measured out three grams on the scale, before dividing them up into two envelopes containing exactly a gram and a half each, one for each of us, which we consume in a café.

We’re already flying by the time we walk back to the guesthouse. Chen waits outside while I go up to drop off some purchases and take a piss. I’m having trouble untying the tangled knot of my white draw-string pants and wet my pants before freeing my penis. I rummage in my suitcase for a fresh pair of pants but give up. The onset is fast and strong. Pouring sweat, I realize I’m in something of a panic. Back out on the street, Chen says my face looks funny. She assures me she can make it to her shop herself. As I head for mine, the street surface is morphing into colorful Mayan hieroglyphs. A young female Chinese tourist with blond-dyed hair is standing off to the side smoking a joint and asking her boyfriend if she’s doing it right; rare is the sight of mainland Chinese indulging in cannabis. I’m trying to understand how one and a half grams of the same mushroom is so much stronger than one gram. (A friend later suggests that small stems might concentrate more of the drug by weight than one large stem.)

Lying on the massage bed calms me down. Every now and then I open my eyes to stop the neon show and start a new scene. Ning is wearing a traditional tube skirt of embroidered silk and is a ravishing queen consort one moment and a woman in her fifties the next. Eyes closed, I’m in a storm-tossed sea. The towering waves are liquified oriental carpets, the sky shape-shifting mandalas. The surges seem to be caused by the massage stroking. The sheet falls off and I’m erect as Ning works my perineum and scrotum. My thoughts are magnified in the mushroom’s funhouse mirror, as this most familiar rush of the sex hormones kicking in now yanks me back to a paleolithic past when rape was the only form of sex and I breathe through the nostrils of a prehistoric animal. The momentary rush passes. Ning stops short of my shaft and it’s not a sexual massage in any case.

I’m just starting to come down as I head over to Chen’s shop, a bit worried about her given how potent these mushrooms are. She had two previous rather strong psilocybin experiences and cried each time without understanding why. In the shop’s front porch, the owner throws me a concerned glance as I enter. Chen’s massage has just finished and sure enough she’s crying as she fumbles for her clothes. I tell her I’ll wait for her out front. She’ll be fine after a bit, I tell the owner. When she emerges, she feels weak and wants to sit without talking, still in the throes of the mushroom. I comfort her in this state for almost two hours. The owner is patient and hands us bottled water. It’s already 8 PM when Chen is ready to leave. She’s concerned everyone’s looking at her and feels ashamed. “No one’s paying any attention to you,” I reassure her.

We walk around as she recovers herself before heading over to my favorite brewpub Renegade and its great food menu and stock of ales and IPAs. I always get very talkative when coming down from a mushroom trip and chat with Anton, the French co-owner, and Ria, their beautiful Myanmar server. Chen snaps back to her normal self. She tries to explain what she went through during the massage but has trouble remembering it, apart from a feeling of extreme dissociation between herself on the one hand and her limbs and the masseuse on the other. When the masseuse noticed Chen crying, she comforted her saying everyone goes through troubles from time to time and it’s okay to cry. Later as we walk back to the guesthouse and pass by the massage shop, the owner is still there. We apologize, explaining the real reason for Chen’s crying. “Ahh!” she laughs knowingly. It’s easier to tell her at this point now that Chen is fine and smiling.

I’m embarrassed about the messy day. Though our “set” was clear and well intentioned, this is a classic case of a vulnerable “setting” thrown askew by a stronger than expected dose of psilocybin. Our next session will be entirely different, conducted in a professional context.

Session 6: The gelatin matrix
Guided psilocybin trip in private location, Pai
Dose: 3 grams (Lucid Gates, lemon tek preparation)
Intensity: Level 3 (Classic trip)

Pam (not her real name) is our personal coach or “anchor” for the guided “ceremony” in her “nest,” a kind of gazebo on stilts purpose-built for psilocybin sessions. Set next to her house on a woodsy hill in the outskirts of Pai, its open sides are covered with mosquito netting and look out on lush trees and vegetation; it’s lined on the inside with cushions and pillows and is cozy and comfortable. I’m so nervous with onset anxiety that my hands are shaking even when we pay our first visit several days before to get acquainted. We sign forms clarifying the protocols and risks. Pam is a naturist and we’re invited to be naked for the ceremony (she herself won’t be as she keeps her work life separate). Chen and I may massage each other short of any sexual activity. The session will be recorded by a video camera mounted in an upper corner (we’ll receive a copy of the video afterwards); the recording is to protect her or us in the event anything should go awry. We’re requested to fast for a total of 48 hours before and during the session with only water. Besides the health detox, an empty stomach in a ketogenic state brings on the drug more quickly and makes for a more intense but shorter trip.

I feel better on the day of the ceremony now that I’m already familiar with the setting. Pam prepares six grams of Lucid Gates—an “introspective” strain said to be more easily retained in the memory—by grinding and steeping the mushrooms in fresh lime juice. This converts the psilocybin to psilocin, also speeding up the drug’s effects. I take three grams and Chen, skittish after our last experience, two grams; the remaining gram is up for grabs if either of us wants a boost later. It helps that the idyllic setting is designed for psychedelics. The fast onset, almost imperceptible at first, is remarkably smooth, gentle, majestically graceful. We are lying back naked with our heads propped up on purple pillows. Pam sits discreetly on a ledge behind us. She puts on psybient music with beguiling Middle-Eastern rhythms by Easy Velvet, a French musician she met in Pai. The fasting has gone well. I thought it would be horrible but find it no more than an annoyance and worse yesterday than today. Pam assures me that I will not notice the hunger at all while tripping.

We are enveloped in lush jungle-like scenery, the gazebo surrounded by jackfruit and orange jasmine trees and myriad bird calls, roaring cicadas, and other creatures. The atmosphere turns gelatin-like and the view outside deepens and stretches in hyper-3D depth. The congealing air slowly, imperceptibly, creeps forward from the background to the foreground and into the gazebo itself, enveloping me. Tree branches are slowly swaying, not from wind but of their own accord. One is moving toward me, its spray forming a mouth. I am completely at peace, as if the mushroom wants to show me how gorgeous its onset can be in the right setting. (My onset anxiety is cured. After this experience, I am eager to try four grams, then a “heroic” dose of five grams.)

I keep my eyes mostly shut. The neon show is no longer a show but a device of highly advanced alien technology and I am being subjected to its workings. There are three horizontal bands. The upper and lower bands are busily, furiously spinning elaborate ribbons like a taffy-making machine, slowing down and reversing from time to time, enough to make out sharply interlocking stripes and checkered patterns drawn from civilization’s manifold textile designs, or rather civilization’s textiles were drawn from psychedelic encounters such as this. The outer bands are squeezing, massaging, grinding a narrower middle band of pure white. The middle band is my ego or some manifestation of it. The massaging is painful though also soothing, as with deep-tissue massage work on a tense knot in your body, but the pain here is psychic. A higher dose and I might have been reduced to tears. Whatever is happening to me is necessary.

Meanwhile, the bird calls are somehow, miraculously, fusing with the music. They are joining in and producing melodic riffs of their own! I tell Pam that I’m being crushed by beauty.

Chen is starting to cry and is struggling to adjust her breathing so that she doesn’t hyperventilate. I hold her hand and Pam’s hand with my other hand. Later, Chen says between bouts of tears that the experience is actually easier this time; her body seems to be learning how to process the tension. At one point she says she feels extremely sexual. Pam’s gray and white-striped tabby cat enters and settles between our legs, as if to comfort us (cats are actually superb trip sitters). The cat is now multicolored and seems to be made up of separate parts that happen to fit together. I get up to urinate, and I’m covered with a multicolored film or fuzz and also feel like a collection of loose parts barely held together.

A few hours into the trip, I can start to feel its descent, enough to ask Chen if she’s ready for a massage. She mumbles a vague assent. I get out my bottle of eucalyptus-scented coconut oil. After massaging her calves I give up. The mushroom produces such a powerful body high that you feel as if you are being physically massaged, rendering the act redundant. Pam helps out by massaging her head, neck and shoulders. Chen later relates experiencing waves of sorrow.

CONCLUDING REMARKS

If the goal of this study was to determine what dose of psilocybin works best with massage, we are no closer to an answer. I could point to Session 5, where the massage and the intoxication seemed in perfect balance rather than one dominating or overwhelming the other, though the setting was awkward and rushed. Most psychedelic users would probably regard the dose of Session 6 as much too strong to derive any benefit from massage. On the other hand, if I were to take the same dose again in a similar setting but had arranged someone to massage me while tripping, who’s to say the experience wouldn’t have been extraordinary? This endeavor is, after all, a matter of practice and experience. Too much of the drug on one occasion may be not enough on subsequent occasions as one grows accustomed to being massaged during increasingly potent states of intoxication.

My clumsy efforts are best treated as a pilot study. I hope others will be encouraged to experiment with these two intense practices which are meant for each other, psychedelic intoxication and bodily intoxication by massage. I imagine in a more enlightened future, psychedelic trips will incorporate massage as an indispensable element, while massage under ideal conditions will always be undertaken during psychedelic states.

WORKS CITED

Board, Jack. “Something AI can’t replace’: Why Thailand wants to reform massage sector, including ‘grey’ services,” Channel News Asia (29 Mar. 2026). [https://www.channelnewsasia.com/asia/thai-massage-regulations-reform-spas-6004021]

“Cannabis in Thailand,” Wikipedia (accessed 1 Aug. 2026). [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cannabis_in_Thailand]

“How many massage spas are there in Thailand?,” PoiData.io (July 2026). [https://www.poidata.io/report/massage-spa/thailand]

Karsai Therapeutical Vaginal Massage Tutorial [n.d.][https://nudeleted.com/videos/6457/karsai-therapeutical-vaginal-massage-tutorial/?play=true]

Latimer, Bianca. Sex and Psychedelics: Better Loving Through Chemistry (Borderland Press, 2020).

“Magic mushroom trip levels: The 5 levels you need to know,” Magic Mushrooms Shop (23 Mar. 2026). [https://www.magic-mushrooms-shop.com/blog/magic-mushrooms-trip-levels]

“Shulgin Rating Scale,” Wikipedia (n.d.) [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shulgin_Rating_Scale]

“Thailand to force cannabis shops into medical model as numbers plunge,” Asia News Network (2 Apr. 2026). [https://asianews.network/thailand-to-force-cannabis-shops-into-medical-model-as-numbers-plunge/]

“Why the “museum dose” is the Goldilocks of psilocybin consumption,” Healing Maps (20 Dec. 2023). [https://healingmaps.com/why-the-museum-dose-is-the-goldilocks-of-psilocybin-consumption/]

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Of related interest:
Music for massage, meditation, sex, and psychedelics
Massage diary: Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam
Massaging the Yin-Yang in Pattaya
Five steps toward personal emancipation in an Orwellian world
Datura and the psychedelic Tao
Loving many: Polyamorous self-actualization
Massage and the Writer: Essays on Asian Massage