[This is a continuation of The First Time My Ego Dissolved, or, When I Heard my Calling to Peru, Part I]

I was now just a few feet from the rotting carcass. 

In that moment the acoustic guitar chords flowing into my ears took on an uplifting, feel-good vibe. I stopped. The music was too optimistic and happy to allow me to do the difficult work before me. And yet I knew it was the work I needed to do. 

I called out for Elizabeth to change the music to something darker, more sinister. Soon, the dramatic “O Fortuna” of Carl Orff’s magnum opus Carmina Burana began playing. But still I was unable to draw closer to the carcass.

Something that sounds like “cicadas buzzing in a swamp,” I requested, not realizing the challenge that might present to my facilitator.* After a few moments, creepy sound effects began playing — creaking doors, dripping water, buzzing flies — like the soundtrack to a haunted house. “This is the closest thing I can find to swamp cicadas,” I could hear her say. 

But still I remained there stalled. I was not going to be able to do this difficult task. I pulled off my headphones and eye shade, and was greeted with a heavily-fractaled, breathing, Van Gogh-painted-version of the room I left so long ago. “How long have I been in?” I asked.

In my epic journey to far-flung continents, through deep space, and to the origins of the universe, only 48 minutes had passed.

I needed to use the restroom, and Elizabeth helped me get up from the chair.**

After returning, I tried to go back in, but could not get back to the trauma swamp of my psyche. I was done for today, and spent the rest of the session talking to Elizabeth about what I had seen and felt.

Integration and Analysis

Psychedelic experiences can be intense and overwhelming, and integration work is necessary to receive any trauma-healing benefit from them. Proper psychedelic integration actually begins before the experience itself, and extends into the days, weeks, and months following the actual journey. 

I will discuss integration work in depth in a separate post. 

For the purposes of synthesizing this journey, I will discuss my insights grouped by four key themes:

01: The Light-Love

This was the moment my ego dissolved, occasioned by complete deactivation of my brain’s Default Mode Network, or DMN. Brain imaging studies and modern neuroscience gives us a clue about the mechanism at play here:

Results from studies suggest that LSD simultaneously creates hyper-connections across the brain... At the same time, [it] chips away at organization within networks—including a system called the default mode network, which normally governs functions such as self-reflection, autobiographical memory and mental “time travel.” ...default mode network disintegration, coupled with dampened electrical activity in consciousness-related alpha brain waves, contributes to a temporary loss of a sense of self in some psychedelic drug users, who often describe feeling at one with others and the world around them—an effect scientists call “ego dissolution.” [4]

In this moment, I indeed had lost all “sense of self”—and in its place, a profound sense of connection to all beings and objects in the natural world. Inseparable, in fact: I was suddenly filled with the knowledge that I, and all of us humans, animals, and plants, are made of the very light emanating from this Source. And this light is love. 

And this is the first and most profound insight from this journey:

I now believe, at the deepest levels of my DNA, that everything in the universe is light and love. 

For me, this is where science and spirituality converge. In this way, all life-forms and elements of nature in the universe are connected to this greater consciousness, contained in the very essence of our being-ness: the electrons, protons, and neutrons that make up all matter in the universe. There was a secondary insight here, too:

This light-love is where our consciousness, our spirit, returns to when our physical bodies die. 

The father of transpersonal psychology (and a pioneer of closed-eye psychedelic journeying and holotropic breathwork), Stan Grof experienced a similar phenomenon in his first psychedelic experience:

“I think it was more like Dharmakaya, the primary clear light from Bardo Thodol – The Tibetan Book of the Dead – that we see at the moment of our death. But what happened is my consciousness was catapulted out of my body. I lost the research assistant. I lost the clinic. I lost Prague. I lost the planet. And I had the feeling that I extinguished in the form that I knew myself, but also the sense that I somehow became everything there was. I became all of existence. As you know, you must have heard it quite a few times, that these states are considered ineffable. When you start trying to describe them, you find out that we just simply don’t have language. Our language is developed to communicate about things from everyday life. So these experiences of mystical states are full of paradoxes. Paradoxicality is one of the characteristics. So you can have the feeling that you became nothing. But by becoming nothing, you actually became all of existence. So I was, in this incredible state.” [5]

Indeed, the light I encountered matched the descriptions of countless survivors of near-death experiences. And, perhaps, the light described and depicted in ancient religious texts and art across the religions of the world, in encounters with their respective divinity. 

To that point in my life, I had never really been a religious or even spiritual person. In embarking on my closed-eye journey, I had no intention of having a “mystical experience” or finding spirituality, but as I later learned this is not an uncommon result of this therapy:

“You go deep enough, or far out enough in consciousness and you will bump into the sacred. It’s not something we generate; it’s something out there waiting to be discovered. And this reliably happens to nonbelievers as well as believers ...whether occasioned by drugs or other means, these experiences of mystical consciousness are in all likelihood the primal basis of religion.” 

― Michael Pollan, How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression, and Transcendence

02: The Energy Vine

The experience of flying backwards, followed by the rope of cosmic love-light, witnessing it growing smaller due to the blockages. This experience imparted the second big insight from this journey:

While everything in the universe is made of light (and love), trauma is one thing capable of obstructing this light. 

The strange thing about this realization though, was that the blockages of light were actually the very thing creating the beautiful spiraling pinecone markings on the energy vine. I believe the teaching here is one Hinduism refers to as “neutral observance.” While our egoic minds like to assign dualist meaning to things, labeling pure love-light as “good,” and the opposite—the light-blocking, dark-matter trauma as “bad” or “evil”—nature does not concern itself with such judgments and labels. Nature just is. Perfect with all of its imperfections, and we humans, as a part of nature, are no exception. 

03: The Swamp

The swamp was the most difficult part of my journey. I felt uncomfortable, fearful, anxious, and just plain grossed out by the immersive sensory experience here.

Across various trauma healing modalities (EMDR, Somatic Experiencing, Sensori-Motor, psychedelic journeying) we don’t necessarily need to relive our traumas in order to resolve them. In this instance, I believe my psyche was showing me a visual representation of some of my trauma. The decaying carcass in the swamp was a metaphor for the emotional repression I’ve described in past posts. 

The work I was tasked with (but have yet to complete), was to pick up this grotesque, decaying object and study it. And then to pull it out of the cesspool, on to dry land. When organic matter decomposes underwater, it is a dark and anaerobic environment, which creates dysbiosis and noxious byproducts like methane gas. Bringing the repressed trauma out of this environment would allow it to get oxygen and sunlight, so it could then decompose in a healthy way. I believe sunlight, in this metaphor, is the light-love flowing from Source. 

04: Peru

This was actually the most puzzling theme of my journey. Peru had not been on my radar nor in my consciousness, in any way, whatsoever. After the blindfold came off (but the effects of the medicine remained very much on), I began sharing some of my experience with Elizabeth — I would not stop talking about the images and concept I encountered here. In her logbook of my journey, Elizabeth wrote PERU in all caps and underlined it, and we later shared a laugh recalling my exuberant raving in which I said the word “Peru” at least 100 times. Neither of us had a clue about the deeper meaning behind this trope. 

Just a week later, I found out. 

Some would call it “coincidence,” but I’m going to refer to this event as a “synchronicity.” Through a series of fortuitous and convoluted circumstances, an American expat living in Peru ended up staying in my communal household for a week-long visit. His name was Ryan, a psychologist and ayahuasca integration therapist living and working in the Sacred Valley, near Cusco. 

Over the course of the week, I got to know Ryan little by little, through chance encounters in the common areas of our home. I was fascinated to hear about his work with ayahuasca shamans and other ceremonial plant medicines. I knew a little about ayahuasca already, but had reservations about going online and booking a retreat, placing the trust of my mental and physical well-being in the hands of people I’d never met. 

After he left, Ryan and I kept in touch. The call to Peru, and ayahuasca, grew stronger within me. It became clear that I needed to go there to experience it. Over social media messages and video calls, Ryan helped guide me as I carefully considered my options. Before long, I had a plan in place. I would travel to Pisac, Peru, do some initial pre-Ayahuasca psychotherapy sessions with him, go to a local retreat, and then do integration therapy. 

The only question that remained, was when? 

Fortunately, or perhaps synchronistically, the universe ended up making that decision for me. 

[This thread to be continued in a later post]

Lasting Effects

In the days and weeks immediately following my inward journey, I noticed a few changes. My meditations grew much deeper—often invoking closed-eye visuals and a feeling of leaving my body or floating through space—and I would return from them needing a moment to orient myself back to reality and the present moment. The usual level of mental chatter in my mind seemed to be turned down to a minimum volume. Any anxiety over the future melted away, and I began to access a baseline level of equanimity I had never before experienced. When work became particularly stressful in the weeks after my journey, I brought a centering, zen-like presence to my project team, which was noticed and acknowledged by peers and managers, and even documented in my performance reviews. 

“According to Freudian psychology, the ego is that part of us that allows us to correctly perceive external reality and function well in everyday life. People who have this concept of the ego frequently look upon the ego death as a frightening and tremendously negative event—as the loss of ability to operate in the world. However, what really dies in this process is that part of us that holds a basically paranoid view of ourselves and of the world around. Alan Watts called this aspect, which involves a sense of absolute separateness from everything else, "skin-encapsulated ego." 

― Stanislav Grof, The Holotropic Mind: The Three Levels of Human Consciousness and How They Shape Our Lives

In the long-term, I believe my life—the way in which I show up in the world on a daily basis—has been altered forever.

In my efforts to heal from depression, suicidal ideations, and IBS, I no longer feel I am in a battle against these afflictions, but rather on a path away from them, and toward something else entirely: wholeness. Three years ago, I began calling in various tools to help me progress on this path — meditation, psychotherapy, EMDR, somatic experiencing, neurobiological emotional clearing, yoga and trauma stretching, Myofascial release, Craniosacral, breathwork, medicinal herbs and folk remedies, and yes, other psychedelic therapies. It would be impossible to parse the cumulative effects of each individual modality or session apart from the others, but here I will try:

My inward journey, and specifically the experience of ego dissolution, completely changed my relationship to the world. Now: 

I smile more. In conversations with close friends. To greet the barista at the coffee shop. At complete strangers I pass on the street. Because I now believe the only thing preventing me from radiating light and love to others and the world around me, are my own traumas. I still have a long way to go on those, but never have I been more certain that I’m on the path to resolving them. And that, is a great reason to smile.  

I am more patient, empathetic, and kinder towards others, and myself. I owe this to the recognition that each person I meet, has been traveling his or her own path, encountering his or her own challenges, his or her own traumas. I now know, each of us, at our core, is a being of pure light and love, perhaps, like me, just waiting to emerge from behind the shadows of trauma. And as each of us continue walking our respective paths in life, couldn’t we all benefit from kinder, more loving interactions with other travelers along the way? 

I am spiritual. Perhaps at the root of all the changes I’ve embodied following my inward journey, I now believe there is an intelligence in the universe far greater and more benevolent than we humans are capable of measuring or understanding. I owe this to the deeply felt knowledge of consciousness after death, and how beautiful the experience of returning to pure, blissful light-love will be when it is our time to depart this Earth. Death is no longer the great unknown I once feared—a belief I attribute to significantly lower anxiety in all aspects of my life.

I’d like to conclude this piece with a quote from Michael Pollan, that I found beautiful, eloquent, and resonant, in how it bridges the material world, spirituality, and the ego, in the context of psychedelics:

“The usual antonym for the word “spiritual” is “material.” That, at least is what I believed when I began this inquiry—that the whole issue with spirituality turned on a question of metaphysics. Now I’m inclined to think a much better and certainly more useful antonym for “spiritual” might be “egotistical.” ...When the ego dissolves, so does a bounded conception not only of our self but of our self-interest. What emerges in its place is invariably a broader, more openhearted and altruistic—that is, more spiritual—idea of what matters in life. One in which a new sense of connection, or love, however defined, seems to figure prominently.” 

― Michael Pollan, How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression, and Transcendence

[Disclaimer: Psychedelic experiences, especially in a closed-eye context, are singular to the individual experiencing them. My recounting here should not be used as a guide for embarking on such a journey yourself. Psychedelic inward journeying of this nature has the potential to be destabilizing to one’s psychological state and should only be done with the guidance of an experienced professional. MAPS.org and the Johns Hopkins Center for Psychedelic & Consciousness Research are trusted resources for further information on this type of psychotherapy.]

Notes:

*Verbal communication becomes a challenge on high doses of LSD, I believe, because the brain is working too fast — that is, too many neurons are firing and forming new pathways across brain regions — to process and coordinate the motor function necessary to speak.

**Inhibited motor function makes standing and walking a unique challenge.

Resources for journeying deeper on this topic:

Pollan, Michael. How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression, and Transcendence. New York: Penguin Press, 2018.

Doblin, Rick. Evolving Earth Podcast. “E8 – Rick Doblin on The Frontiers of Culture and The Future Of The Psychedelic Renaissance.” Interview by Will Sacks.

References:

1. The New York Times: “Johns Hopkins Opens New Center for Psychedelic Research.”

2. Griffiths RR, et al. “Psilocybin can occasion mystical-type experiences having substantial and sustained personal meaning and spiritual significance.” Psychopharmacology. Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences, Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine.

3. Pollan, Michael. How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression, and Transcendence. New York: Penguin Press, 2018.

4. Scientific American: “LSD May Chip Away at the Brain's "Sense of Self" Network.”

5. Grof, Stanislav. Lessons from 4,500 LSD Sessions and Beyond, Interview by Tim Ferriss, 20 Nov 2018.

Photo credits:

1. Brinton Duncan, photographer.