The Homecoming of Psychedelics
It’s impossible to go a single day without reading a blip on the power of psychedelics. It’s the new shortcut to a happier life. Although the hype is justified and long overdue, you can also sense the undertones of desperation of the promise of a quick fix. The consistent rhetoric of the third wave of psychedelics, predominantly led by white men, is overpowered by voyages into other worlds that bring back secrets that make you better, faster, and smarter. And whereas this all may be true, it leaves out an entire other truth to these powerful plants - the indisputable truth that after the blastoff and the separation of the ego, they bring you back to yourself. Psychedelics are a mirror, your brutal best friend, or your crazy aunt who sugar coats nothing.
The truth is we’re flawed, broken, and most likely looking for validation in all the wrong places. Plants remind us that we are already whole, we’re perfect as we are, and we’re our own best healer. We have all the answers within us already, and everyone we’ve been listening to outside of ourselves has it all wrong, not because they have flawed advice, but because they haven’t lived our own lives, didn’t grow up with our own parents, don’t have our emotional scars, or have felt the euphoria of our triumphs. The connection between each one of us and psychedelics is intimate and fragile. It is not boastful and makes no promises. It is the opposite of a scarcity mindset, of competition, of over-intellectualism, and selfishness. It is the opposite of toxic capitalism.
For women, psychedelic experiences are a homecoming. It is an awakening from the never-ending propaganda that a satisfying life comes to those who play a role, one in which we aren’t very smart, don’t get angry, always prioritize others, want to get married and have children, and never ever fulfill our purpose at the expense of our partner’s dreams.
Psychedelics make us ask the questions we’ve been shoving down for decades. They gently hold our hand, guide us to the bathroom mirror so we can build up the courage to ask ourselves “Is this the person I want to be?”
Psychedelics are the mother we all needed. They invite us to stop the cycle of generational trauma, gently push us to show up authentically, to cry more often and feel heartbreak without numbing it.
Devouring 5 grams of magic mushrooms on a podcast without intention is sportsmanship. Hitting rock bottom after a psychedelic experience and having the balls to get back up is the real work.
And the most beautiful work is coming out of the ashes of our experience, not with war trophies and surreal stories, but emotionally naked, with nothing to prove, and confidently accepting ourselves to be able to carve our own path forward.