Just last week we reported on Bryan Johnson, the billionaire entrepreneur turned self-imposed guinea pig in his quest for eternal life . If you’ve been following the ever-escalating saga you’ll know that the latest step in his youth-hunt is taking high doses of psilocybin, the psychoactive compound in magic mushrooms.

But he didn’t samo take almost 5g of čarobne gobe (which is known as a ‘junaÅ”ki odmerek!’)

He also live-tweeted the whole thing.

A Different Kind of Experiment

Unlike the rest of us — who might have our first psychedelic moment in a dorm room or at a festival —Johnson did it in peak biohacker form: under medical supervision, in a legal setting, with a professional facilitator, and with a co-founder (Kate Tolo) on standby to live-document everything from his water fascination to his salad-based revelations.

The dose?
4.67 grams of magic mushrooms, equating to 24.9 mg of psilocybin, the same range used in modern clinical trials.

But unlike how you or I might trip, it was a clinical journey. The kind aimed squarely at ego dissolution.

And by the looks of it, the ego… dissolved accordingly.

ā€œThis Trip Changed Meā€

When Johnson resurfaced (and, crucially, was handed his phone back), he declared:

ā€œYes, this trip changed me. Probably not as you’d expect.ā€

For someone known for his ironclad routines, chemical precision, and spreadsheets for every bodily function, Johnson’s trip veered in an unexpected direction: emotion, perception, and connection.

Through Tolo’s posts and his later breakdown, we get a glimpse into Johnson 2.0, at least momentarily freed from the quantified-self hamster wheel.

Some highlights:

  • He became absorbed in the feel of water, and got… poetic about it.
  • He experienced child-like sensory wonder, amazed at the texture of a blanket and the novelty of rubbing his fingers together.
  • Njegova heart rate (normally tracked, scrutinised, and interpreted) simply… existed without his awareness. This alone seemed revolutionary for him.
  • He felt an unexpected emotional bond with the internet, declaring: ā€œFeels like family. You’re a**holes and terrible. … Still love you all anyways.ā€
Bryan Johnson and his son (from whom he has received blood plasma infusions) (prek Creative Commons)

Psychedelic Insights, Biohacker Style

Then came the ā€œtrip report,ā€ Johnson’s attempt to summarise the ineffable in neat bullet points.

He described his sensory perception as being ā€œreset to youthful levels," like his consciousness had hit ā€œfactory settingsā€ā€” a phrase remarkably in line with therapeutic psilocybin research, where participants often report feeling emotionally or perceptually renewed.

Once he moved past the sensory realm, his mind launched into existential territory: death, the flaws of modern society, AI, Ozempic, the nature of desire, and his personal theory that body positivity ā€œisn’t realā€ because no one resnično wants to be overweight. These views, predictably, set the internet ablaze — though it’s good to remember that it can take a little time to separate the psychedelic-insight wheat from the psychedelic-nonsense chaff.

But the key takeaway wasn’t the hot-button commentary, it was the tone. Johnson wasn’t positioning himself as the lone architect of a new human future. He was exploring, curious, less rigid, more… human.

Psychedelics have a way of doing that.

A Post-Trip Identity Crisis (Kinda)

Another interesting twist came days later, when Johnson posted a travel update from Washington, D.C.:

ā€œA pair of underwear and toothbrush would be so much easier. Sometimes I think you’re right and this whole thing has gotten out of control and I need to chill.ā€

This sent the internet into what can only be described as a collective spit-take.

Was the king of quantified optimisation rethinking everything after a single mushroom trip?

Users chimed in with predictable glee:

  • ā€œThat’s the psilocybin talking.ā€
  • ā€œOne mushroom trip and he realised it’s all really not that serious.ā€
  • ā€œThey tend to open people up to different ways of living.ā€

Suddenly, Bryan Johnson’s ā€œDon’t Dieā€ empire looked a little shakier. Or at least, more self-aware.

It wasn’t the first hint, either. Months before, he’d admitted he might sell his company because running it was a ā€œpain-in-the-a**.ā€ After spending $2 million a year trying not to age, the vibes were starting to shift.

(via https://www.instagram.com/bryanjohnson)

But Was He Serious? Not Exactly.

When speculation peaked, Johnson clarified:

ā€œI’m playing with this post, making fun of myself… this post is play and not serious.ā€

But if there’s one predictable side-effect of psychedelics, it’s that they often sneak a little introspective truth into the joke drawer.

Even if he’s still fully committed to his journey, something in his tone seemed softer. Less rigid. More open.

The Bigger Picture: Psychedelics & Purpose

From a psychonaut perspective, Johnson’s experience echoes what countless psychedelic users report:

  • A heightened sensory world
  • Increased emotional openness
  • Dissolution of rigid thought patterns
  • A reevaluation of priorities
  • The ability to laugh at oneself (sometimes for the first time in years!)

Psilocybin isn’t magic in the ā€œinstant enlightenmentā€ sense. It’s more like holding a mirror to your inner world. And for someone whose whole life revolves around optimisation, it’s fascinating to see Johnson confronted not with metrics, but with meaning.