magic indeed

for Sam Harris

Last night I took somewhere between one and two grams of psilocybin (powdered caplets of questionable dosage) and when they kicked in two hours later, turned off the lights, put on my compression sleep mask (the closest thing I have to a blindfold), put in my AirPods, and climbed underneath my favorite knit blanket.

In the safety of my own home, cozy in the comfort of my unnecessarily huge bed, and with no company other than the music of Joel Zimmerman, I melted into my own mind for two and a half hours of soul-righting joy.

I know I get dramatic about psychedelics. I can't help it. They change my life, every time. It's why I feel compelled to advocate (okay, fine, evangelize) for them - with all the usual stringent disclaimers. So buckle in, because this will be no different.

Last night I got past the paywall of my own subconscious. I was guided there with extraordinary love (mine) and light (also mine). In this deepest of caverns there exists the singular clarity that I very purposefully set off to find: self-love. Earlier in the day I had been disappointed by canceled plans. That itself is not such a blow under normal circumstances. But in case you haven't noticed, these are not normal circumstances. 

The absolutely wrecked state of the country has been pushing me further and further into despair, and my pain is manifesting in really awful, damaging ways. I have a lot of trouble being alone. Like - a lot. Me, solo Coachella girl. Me, sibling-less, dog-less, divorced orphan. Me. I'm clinging to people in ways that are deeply unhealthy. Needing more from others than I should be able to find in abundance, in myself. It is a desperate and lonely place to be.

That's where LSD and psilocybin come in. Because they are so powerful and because I have slid down the darker side of them, I only have the nerve to fuck with them a couple times a year. But when I do, my bravery is rewarded like it was last night. I slipped down, down, down and landed face to face with the thing I have been struggling with lo these many socially distanced months.

This is where it gets hard to express what I felt. This is where it gets unavoidably esoteric. I'll just say this. Last night I remembered...everything. I remembered that I am enough. I remembered that no matter who moves through my life, I am the constant. I am my own source. 

Of course, all the while I was reveling in this revelation, I was treated to the most phenomenal light and sound show that the universe has to offer. Just an absolute fucking mental festival. I laughed, delighted by the complexity of the simplicity. I cried happy tears. I twisted and turned under the soft blanket and thrust my hands up to touch the kaleidoscope above me (plot twist: it was actually inside me). When I emerged at 11pm, everything still very much aglow and askew, I attempted to eat a hot dog (only thing on hand) - but I couldn't, because I couldn't stop laughing at it. Please picture me standing in my near-dark kitchen, in only a hoodie and my slipper boots, just savagely laughing at this poor hot dog. Finally I gave up and ate some raspberries that tasted like the entire rainbow. It was the best date I've had with myself in a long, long time.


When I am extremely low and just barely hanging on, I will ask the friends I trust most with my vulnerability: I'm a good person, right? 

Last night I understood the purity of my own heart, and loved myself for it. 

Sending you all the best you deserve, which is vastly more than this sideways-fucked country is clearly capable of giving you right now. Occasional moments of calm and inner peace are all I can hope to surf to from time to time - I hope you have some of those moments, too.