Because I am … and, hopefully, so are you!

#5 | June 11th, 2022

Pathways to Change: Mindfulness, Psychedelics, & the Teachers Who Light the Way

🔔 Status Update

I’m a bit obsessed with teachers right now. I’m using the term loosely. Mike – my writing buddy who greets me daily to write together and share our struggles, is most definitely my teacher. My therapist is my teacher. The famous, high-priced business coach I fired for being a dick (there, I said it), is my teacher. My meditation mentor is certainly my teacher. And my psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy (PAP) guides are my teachers – one transmitting profound lessons that grow me as a person and as a therapist, the other instilling equally profound lessons about who to stay the f*%@# away from (that’s another story, coming soon). Lots of lessons these days from lots of teachers. 

This week, I published the first essay in a series on mindfulness meditation. In it, I discuss how the teaching of meditation has gone awry in its Western invocation and begin to lay the groundwork of mindfully meditating in a truly healing and empowering way. I’d love to hear your thoughts about it – perhaps about what I wrote, but definitely about your own experiences with meditation. 

One thing's certain: who you choose as a meditation teacher – their skillset and caliber, awareness of student triggers that can interfere, and reverence for each individual’s personal process – makes all the difference in your desire and ability to continue developing this life-altering skill.

And speaking of teachers…

I just returned from California, where my PAP quest continued. So many teachers have accompanied me on this journey – not least of which is the plant medicine itself. Plants, whether you commune with them in the wild or ingest them in a ceremony, have much to share about how to be in the world. 

During this particular trip, the medicine was not cast in the starring role. It turns out that substances alone are not the only resource for life-altering epiphanies.

Many of you have come along on my wild psychedelic ride, so of course I want to share what I wrote during a hike on Saturday, pre-journey (yes, like poet-extraordinaire Mary Oliver, I do ‘write’ as I wander, thanks to the Otter transcription app). There are also lessons and reminders in this journey for us all. 

So come along with me…

Once my plane landed on Saturday – two days ahead of my inner journey with PAP – I headed straight to my destination (out in the middle of nowhere) and then straight out to the trails. I hadn't hiked in this area before, and I chose an easy walk through rolling, burnt-grass hills and orchards.

Most people would look at this landscape and call it ‘dead’ – a product of too little rain, too much sun, or global warming as a whole. Instead, I find it mysterious. Inviting in its own way, but only if you dare.

Wandering around the paths – where everything begins to look the same to a city girl like me – I started to notice nuances. One tree bent toward the right, another bent toward the left. One blossoming fully, one just beginning to flower.

I saw the mystery in all of this.

I saw a tiny flower making a valiant attempt to grow all by itself, straight from a stone. And I thought “Yes, I've felt that way. I can relate.”

The thing is that it's simply an illusion that the flower is all alone with no support, with no soil, with no foundation. There’s plentiful scientific study of plants and trees now. We know what's happening underneath, where we humans can't see. There's a wild connection – a network of nurture that goes on under the hood. Does this flower know that? I don't know.

Some days I forget. Some days I think I'm all alone, trying desperately to grow without nurture, without nourishment. Trying to spring full form from a rock like some sort of magic trick. But there's no denying the foundation beneath me. There's no denying all the interconnectedness that somehow reaches through and supports me through those days that feel particularly challenging.

And on a day like this, I can look at the tiniest little wildflower – just a tiny dab of color in the midst of miles of burnt hay – and in it, I see it all. I see the oneness of things. The connection of things. The interrelatedness. This connectivity that has sometimes felt like it's a truism for everyone but me. This is a stunning world we're born into, with all its pain and injustice, trauma and drama. Yes, this is still quite a stunning world.

There, in the middle of burnt-hilI nowhereness, I also had a stunning realization: I no longer need a drug to open my heart, my mind, my eyes. I was already feeling the full force of my medicine journey two days before ingesting any substance. 

Two days later, my PAP session followed and was barely worth mentioning here. The insights had already been downloaded: We have the wiring for wonder within.

I guess this is what healing looks like.

💡 Inspiration

Have you heard of the ‘wood-wide web?’ (sciency moniker: mycorrhizal networks) 

In every healthy forest, the trees are connected to each other through underground fungal networks. Trees share water and nutrients through these networks, and they also use them for communication. Trees send distress signals – when they’re under attack by drought or insects, for example – and other trees respond. They also send warning signals – “danger lurks!” – to their tribe and other species, near and far. In other words, trees have empathy. They feel the pain of their brethren, and come to their aid.

Plants have been around for a long time. They’re literally older than the hills. According to forest scientist Peter Wohlleben, our species has existed for only 0.1% of the time that trees have been around. 

And plants are huge – the bulk mostly hidden from humans! In the Blue Mountains of Oregon, resides the largest living organism in the world today: a honey fungus that measures 2.4 miles. Imagine the depth of connection in its path. 

Oh yes, plants have much to teach.

Plants also communicate with humans. We’re just beginning to understand the process and the implications. Consider the simple exchange of oxygen and CO2. When we breathe, we are doing a dance with the plant kingdom. 

Trees can pick up sounds that are imperceptable to the human ear and also respond to the human voice. They’re able to detect the presence of other lifeforms in the forest. 

And, of course, plants guide us when we ingest them. Oh, let me tell you, they certainly do. Just like people, some are gentle and subtle 🌝. And some are the brutally honest friend you trust because she’s always truthful 😵‍💫.

Instead of thinking of plants as lower life forms, or not thinking of them at all, perhaps it’s time we learn from them instead. They are the oldest teachers on the planet.

That’s what this quote triggers in me. What does it say to you?

🎤 Commentary: Reviews & Recommendations

This week, I’m recommending a bit of communing in nature.

Personally, I find forests particularly enthralling. But if you’re a city-dweller like me, a local park or even a tree-lined street will do. Take a walk and fill your senses.

Feel the air on your skin. Is it cool, warm, soothing, unsettling?

Inhale deeply. What do you smell? Are you met by earthy aromas of moss, wet soil, or decomposing leaves? Or is it the fresh scent of new growth?

Dip into synesthesia if you can. That’s the activation of one sense by another. I swear I can smell earth when I see a bright green leaf or the cascade of green hues on a moss-covered stone.

What do you hear? The frenzied buzzing of insects, the lilting chirp of birds, the wind dancing through the leaves?

What do you feel? Hug a tree or stroke a leaf. Can you feel your heart rate slow?

Look around. What do you see? Absorb the tiny intricacies of all the elements around you. And also take a mental step back to imbibe the surroundings as a whole. 

Take it all in. You are part of this. You belong.

🤡 On a Lighter Note

I hope you’ve had a glorious week, communing with nature. But in case you haven't, here’s a whiff:

• Forget the deep question meditation really gets at (Who Am I?) for a bit and ask a different question: Where am I? Orient yourself by using this cool antipodes map. Discover what’s on the exact other side of the planet from your current location. I’m in the Indian Ocean, so close to one of my favorite countries, Australia, that I can taste it!

• If only we could learn to be as present as these hamsters enjoying nature. Let these little ones be role models.

• The lighter side of another lesson from meditation: Nothing is as it seems. Wildlife wardens alarmed after a bag is mistaken for a lion.

🎀 It’s a Wrap

Thank you for joining me in this endeavor!

Enjoy the read? You can share the love with fellow curious minds and help me grow this puppy! And feel free to get in touch anytime by hitting reply.

Until next week, take care of yourself and someone else if you're able.