En kvinne tok kontakt med meg i slutten av 2023 for veiledning gjennom en psykedelisk opplevelse. Hun ville skrive om hele opplevelsen, mest fordi hun selv savnet lengre fortellinger om en psykedelisk opplevelse fra noen som ikke hadde noe som helst erfaring fra f\u00f8r. Hun spurte ogs\u00e5 om jeg ville dele dette p\u00e5 min nettside og det takket jeg ja til, selv om jeg er klar over at teksten kan bli farget av nettopp det. Hun ville skrive p\u00e5 engelsk, s\u00e5 jeg har valgt \u00e5 beholde fortellingen uredigert p\u00e5 originalspr\u00e5ket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Imagine wearing your shoes two sizes too small your entire life. Suffering, adapting, negotiating with yourself, bargaining with the discomfort, learning to compensate (often in ingenious ways). At times, even managing to forget about it \u2013 but fleetingly. Always fleetingly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then, one day, imagine finding a way to pull those ill-fitted shoes off for the first time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Until that moment, maybe you didn\u2019t know they were ill-fitted; it\u2019s your feet that were too funky. Maybe the shoes were useful before; maybe they met your childhood needs perfectly well, but you\u2019ve outgrown them since then. Or maybe you didn\u2019t realize they were shoes at all; maybe you thought they were a part of you. An intrinsic, unavoidable part. Either way, you haven\u2019t taken them off for ages. Now, they\u2019ve been tossed to the floor. And there you are, stunned by this new-fangled lack of suffering, which turns out to be so natural to you. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
This, simplified and condensed, was the essence of my first psychedelic experience with Oskar. I\u2019m calling it an experience, not a trip, because tripping has a hint of a joyride to it. Experiencing is more about discovering and exploring something entirely new.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Three aspects accompanied those metaphorical shoes coming off: <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But let\u2019s unpack this a little bit. If you\u2019re like me, you\u2019re an adult who thinks of oneself as somewhat educated. Maybe even \u2013 who knows? \u2013 highly educated. And if you\u2019re here, you\u2019re also plagued with something that doesn\u2019t do you any good, something that perhaps causes nothing short of agony, and you can\u2019t seem to fix it. You\u2019ve tried all kinds of ways: old-school medications, various sorts of therapy, different meditation techniques, even attempting to reason it all away. You\u2019ve read the books that tell you to transcend turmoil through willpower, develop more discipline, adjust your thoughts, rise above it all, and so on. All those self-help podcasts, too. You know, the usual, if you\u2019re a seeker.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But nothing has quite worked in the long run, so you might have concluded that you\u2019re broken. Broken so fundamentally, so intrinsically, that there\u2019s no way around it. Just you and your predicament, until death do you part. Or, in line with your wiring, you might have concluded something else entirely. Say, that all the others are broken. Or the world itself, really. Either way, you aren\u2019t in a particularly happy place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then, one way or another, research on psychedelic therapy comes your way. And you, being nearly as educated and science-oriented as you like to think, study it. You study it well. You see the numbers, you contemplate the results. And you think \u2013 admit it, you think, or you wouldn\u2019t be reading this \u2013 \u201cwell, what if?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But then you say: no way. I\u2019m not doing this. I\u2019m not contacting some random dude and then faking it for a few hours, only to return to the same shitty place again. I may be miserable, but I\u2019m smart. I know better than trying to cheat my way out of the inevitable. Who does that?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Well, this is a story of who does that, and how it goes, and where a psychedelic guide fits into it all. There\u2019s plenty of advice on and discussions of psychedelics on the internet, but there don\u2019t seem to be many coherent, complete, first-timer stories of therapeutic sessions from start to finish. This one might be long, and geared towards individual struggles that may not speak to you. But it\u2019s also honest. It\u2019s the kind of \u201cvirginal journey\u201d chronicle I wish I had come across when I was contemplating whether to make the move and reach out to Oskar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s been decades in the making, of course. But in a way, it began a few winters ago, the day I found the man in the snow. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Frost had all but consumed my quiet street in Oslo that December. Most neighbors were away for the holidays. The world was still. It was a perfect time for a stroll. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
So, just before Christmas, I set out on a walk through this winter wonderland \u2013 and come upon an elderly neighbor lying in the street, snow shovel at his side. At first, it looks as if he\u2019s opted to take a nap and make snow angels, except that it is no break. He\u2019s struggling to breathe. His face has gone white, and his chest is making irregular, convulsive movements. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the other end of the street, a woman with a dog stops to watch, turns around, retreats quickly. An older hiker approaches from the trail. She stands and calls to the gentleman in the snow: \u201cHei hei! Hei hei!\u201d. Through these frantic hei\u2019s I dial 113. Then, I\u2019m on my knees. Snow begins to melt around them, moisture climbing up my jeans as I press at the fallen man\u2019s chest. One two three four, one two three four. I\u2019m probably doing it wrong, but I keep at it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His face is close to mine. If I glance sideways, I see his blue lips, and the way his tongue jolts between them. He\u2019s looking at me, but his eyes grow dim; he\u2019s looking through me. Once in a while, on four, the man in the snow gasps. Otherwise, he is still and pale. So, so pale. Blueness begins to spread from his lips to his face when the ambulance finally arrives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They cut off his clothes and insert needles. They administer CPR \u2013 the professional way. The right way. As they take him away, I glance down at the darkness of my jeans, all wet at the knees from the snow. Darkness begins to envelope everything else, too. In the following days, as Christmas comes and goes, I think of the man in the snow. I feel that I cost him his life. Or, well, failed to save him. Hell \u2013 my inept, untrained first aid efforts probably killed him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When his daughter finds me and comes by with a lovely bouquet a while later, she brings the good news: actually, her father made it. He\u2019s at the hospital, being well taken care of. I helped him. And, amidst rejoicing, I catch myself thinking: oh, thank g-d he survived \u2013 in spite of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Which pretty much sums up the issue, if you think about it. When I thought that he didn\u2019t make it, my wiring signaled that I was at fault. It would transmit at this frequency for years to come, leaking guilt and regret into a mental space that\u2019s already oversaturated with them. But as soon as I learn that he survived, it switches gear: now, clearly, I had nothing to do with it. What a fortunate accident. It\u2019s probably despite<\/em> my involvement, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n These aren\u2019t things I think; they are things that emerge instinctively, at gut level. And they don\u2019t seem quite right. Rationally, I recognize that it\u2019s neither balanced nor, well, all too logical. But it defines and dictates my life in the most visceral ways. This wiring needs redoing. I\u2019d known it for a while, but that winter\u2019s events on my snowy street become the most palpable illustration yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Such are my ill-fitted shoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n *<\/p>\n\n\n\n It is from the man\u2019s daughter that I hear about MDMA therapy for the first time. She happens to be a trauma therapist. So, when she visits with beautiful flowers and good news, we talk trauma. Only weeks earlier, at a regular ultrasound, my doctor could not locate my baby\u2019s heartbeat. Death is still all around me, tangible, when my elderly neighbor falls into the snow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Afterwards, his daughter sends me links to MDMA research and its striking results in trials with trauma patients. She also tells me, for the first time, about Oskar. I read through all those pages diligently, but stop there. It takes me months to reach out again and ask for more information. During those months, things continue to spiral downwards, as they tend to do. Successes are mere accidents. Misfortunes are logical and much deserved. The worse the misfortune, the more it makes sense that it has struck me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n When the full-scale war erupts at home and my beloved hometown burns under shelling, I open Oskar\u2019s page again. I study the photo of a young, long-haired dude.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRight,\u201d I think.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then I look at his list of services. Preparation \u2013 guidance \u2013 integration. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRight,\u201d I think.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then I glance at the prices.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRiiight,\u201d I think.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2026 It will be two years after I found the man in the snow that I\u2019ll finally send a message to Oskar and schedule a phone call that will change \u2013 well, no, not everything. But quite a bit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After talking on the phone and deciding to go ahead together, Oskar and I met online twice in preparation for Day X once the date was set. It was a chance to ask questions, discuss expectations, gauge each other\u2019s inclinations and disposition \u2013 and, well, share concerns.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Man, did I have a bunch of those. I was worried. Not nervous (I\u2019m good with new experiences, from skydiving to solitary wanderings around Svalbard), but \u2013 worried within the blueprint of my wiring. Excited, too, sure. But as Day X approached, I could hardly count the ways I could see failing it. Which, as you may have already guessed, is my meanest inner monster. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I mean, where do I even begin? I could disappoint and fall short of expectations, my guide\u2019s as well as my own. Not even sure which of the two would be worse. For instance, everyone seems to have some sort of epiphany during a psychedelic journey. What if I, quite simply, don\u2019t? This would only serve as proof of what I already know: yeah, kinda broken. Stuck having to struggle for what comes naturally to others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Or, what if I feel nothing? Literally: what if I don\u2019t react to the medications, due to some chemical inconsistencies I can\u2019t even pretend to understand? (Later, Oskar will share that in his years of trip-sitting, he did meet one person who did not respond.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Even worse, what if I get sick or end up with oddball physical reactions? I visualized myself vomiting uncreatively in some corner for eight hours. Indeed: what if things get embarrassing? I mean, if your brain is temporarily not there \u2013 it\u2019s not there, right? \u2013 what if you get high and go \u201cohh your eyes are so deep and your hands are so soft\u201d to the nearest living being, which happens to be the unfortunate trip sitter? It doesn\u2019t help that our culture is full of stereotypes of ridiculous tripping people who do exceptionally dumb things. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Ironically, while wondering if my brain will get disabled in some way, I also wondered if it would be omnipresent. \u201cOne of my concerns is that my mind overrides everything, analyzing and narrating things instead of experiencing them,\u201d I confessed to Oskar after one of our prep talks. \u201cEven through strong physical pain, the mind is present, judging and making observations about it. So I’m worried that it will get in the way of our experience, too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere are some things we can try throughout the day,\u201d he responded, \u201cbut mostly it’s about waiting it out and letting your defenses feel safe and in control.\u201d Over the course of those days, he responded to everything I brought up in a way that was sympathetic, but confident; knowledgeable, but non-judgemental. Okay, I told myself, sounds like he\u2019s got a toolbox we can use in flawed cases. Good. Flawed case incoming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The night before, predictably, all these thoughts and doubts peaked. I couldn\u2019t fall asleep on the uncomfortable mattress and lumpy pillow. The time kept ticking away: 2 am. 3 am. 4 am. 5 am. Dawn. My meeting with Oskar is at 9; no way I\u2019ll be rested, which will surely affect everything. So I lay there miserably as the familiar serpent of self-doubt stirred around in my chest: wow, things are already going wrong, and I haven\u2019t even started. I can\u2019t seem to fix this. It\u2019s happening once again: everything is unfolding exactly as I\u2019d feared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Our culture mythologizes psychedelics. In the media, they\u2019re almost as stereotypical as childbirth scenes, with a clich\u00e9d list of predictable elements presented as mandatory. A case in point is, say, the characters of True Blood<\/em> when they ingest V. You know the deal: running naked through happy fields, frolicking around in the sunlight, while actually drooling glassy-eyed in bed. That sort of thing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In reality, with MDMA, as it turns out, you\u2019re absolutely there. Let me correct this for individual experience: as it turned out, I was absolutely there. I met up with Oskar at 9, chatted a bit over coffee, and took the pills at 9:34. Don\u2019t ask; I just noticed the time (cue apprehension about not responding to them). We talked a bit more, and then headed slowly to the room upstairs. \u201cDo I just lie down here?\u201d I asked, feeling silly and uncertain. \u201cMm,\u201d he replied. <\/p>\n\n\n\n As days will turn into weeks afterwards, I\u2019ll find myself missing the calm reassurance of those attentive mm\u2019s. But for now I lay there, listening to Oskar talk about life while the minutes ticked away, wondering when I might feel something. Anything, really. \u201cUff,\u201d I thought. \u201cI might not be reacting to this at all. Yikes. How do I tell him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then\u2026 Well, then there was the take-off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Oskar had actually used the take-off metaphor when we talked earlier. He explained: it can be bumpy on the way up. Then it evens out, and you recognize: \u201cOh, ok, now we\u2019re above the clouds.\u201d This image was invaluable when I started to feel, well, nauseous. And lightheaded, and kind of sweaty. Imagine the onset of influenza, except spiced up with the unknown. Oh, wait, is this when I go gag in a corner as planned? <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTrust, let go, and what?\u201d I double-checked the mantra I\u2019d seen in the prep files.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBe open.\u201d Right. I kept forgetting this third part of it. Be open, okay. Trust, let go, be open. This, or go fulfill the pukey scenario. So I chose the first option, and laid back. I mean, I was already lying down, of course. But it\u2019s not the same thing as lying back. I realize that now. Fine, I told my body, and exhaled. Fine. I can\u2019t fix or control this. Let\u2019s take it as it comes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then, the bumpiness retreated. I could feel it just \u2013 go. Exactly like when you fly through the clouds on the way up in an airplane. I\u2019m an anxious flyer, so I know all about that. Just as I accepted it, the nausea faded. In its place came lightness. In the body, sure, but also in the mind. So the mind grew sad, because it instantly knew how temporary this would be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s weird,\u201d I told Oskar, staring at the ceiling while feeling inwards. \u201cFor a moment, such a state of bliss, and then some kind of darkness. And \u2026 pukiness.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMm,\u201d he nodded. \u201cSo you get to a better place, and then \u2013 gone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd fear,\u201d I observed after a moment. He responded:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThey\u2019re both part of life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was a comfortingly normalizing response, and one you couldn\u2019t really argue with. So I went ahead and \u201claid back\u201d about the sadness and the fear as well. <\/p>\n\n\n\n From then on, as our metaphorical plane evened out above the bumpy clouds, I felt more and more\u2026 myself. No, really. That\u2019s what it was. I felt myself. I knew who I was, where I was and what I was doing. I enjoyed the full sobriety of realizing that nothing was different externally, no circumstances had changed. But at the same time, all the habitual codes normally running within me had been suspended. All that was left, underneath those silenced codes, was \u201cme\u201d in the most authentic sense of the word. Stripped of nothing, missing nothing, needing nothing. Just being. It was a state of total acceptance and balance \u2013 the kind of acceptance and balance I\u2019d spent years trying to reach through meditation, but couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n During a journey like this, your suspended codes \u2013 habits and patterns that tend to be active inside, ruling your sense of things \u2013 are still there, and maybe even attempt to run as usual. MDMA doesn\u2019t obscure them or anything else; it just disables the Enter key for a while. So you can see them exactly for what they are: peripheral scripts, which your mind normally runs 24\/7. If A happens, do B. If C or D unfold, feel E intensely. To prevent F from occurring, be sure to G and H. Watch for J. Avoid K at all costs. A never-ending collection of formulas we\u2019ve accumulated and internalized over the years. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Turns out that all these blueprints are separate from you, which makes them optional. Optional to who you are, to your true Self. Not activating them doesn\u2019t make you less you. You are beyond them, outside them, complete without them. I\u2019d never felt complete before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There are so many traits that we just assume to be an intrinsic part of us. Say, sensitivity to things and people. If you take away my heightened sensitivity, will I still be a compassionate and caring person? Who knows. So I hold on to it, through suffering, as a defining feature of what I have to offer to the world. Turns out, all these traits are like clothes, except they\u2019re worn internally. Internal outfits. Without them, you are still wholly you. <\/p>\n\n\n\n At the same time, in what I call \u201ccodes\u201d here, I\u2019ve also begun to recognize what\u2019s called \u201cparts\u201d in the Internal Family Systems (IFS) framework, which I started to discover around the same time. Either way: codes or parts, they aren\u2019t the Self. <\/p>\n\n\n\n This was the stunning part. Again, I knew nothing had changed and all the problems were still there. Yet things were, inexplicably, kinda alright. So I felt okay with everything as it was. I don\u2019t use the word \u201cokay\u201d lightly: it was the central part of my experience. Not happy, not euphoric, not wanting to dance or touch things or any such stuff. Nah, none of that. I was high on relaxation: accepting and letting go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Later, I wondered if we tend to trip on states of mind that are atypical for us. I\u2019d been happy; I\u2019d been sad. I\u2019d danced; I\u2019d touched. None of it would be new. For me, the most uncommon (and, thus, the most yearned for) state was inner equilibrium. Grounding physically and mentally. \u201cHaha,\u201d I\u2019d write to Oskar later, \u201cI freakin’ tripped on evenness.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n If it was possible that I was so fundamentally okay, then I had one major concept to process. In all that okayness, I know I was still me. Thus, beneath the codes, I\u2019m not really broken.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This is a more detailed account of the qualities that came my way during the journey. These were the first words I jotted down as the experience came to an end that day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 1. Wordlessness<\/p>\n\n\n\n It flooded my overworked writer’s brain and allowed it to stop commenting and assigning descriptions to absolutely everything. The exploited narrator muscle, which had known nothing but flexing until that moment, uncoiled. Suddenly, I no longer had to attach words to things. I could be beyond words. For an articulator like me, this was nothing short of a revelation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Even now, as I write this story, I watch those primal sensory experiences \u2013 originally recorded in succinct bullet points \u2013 bloom into these long narrative sentences, and I\u2019m not sure: is it for better or for worse? For you, my reader, but also for me?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Afterwards, I jotted down on a blue sticky note: <\/p>\n\n\n\n Feeling of change without words<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Feeling of everything without words<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n 2. Lightness<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFloaty\u201d was the word I had offered Oskar before all those words finally gave me a break. Except, it wasn\u2019t the body that felt floaty. It was me, inside, who was not weighed down any longer. The same ol\u2019 me, but in a state of temporarily suspended codes. Some of them still tried to run; others just hung around. They were all so recognizable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Oskar provides an audio recording of the experience afterwards. This was contained in mine:<\/p>\n\n\n\n You okay, Oskar? (my code of ensuring everyone\u2019s fine and fixing everything if not)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I am. What are <\/em>you experiencing right now?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Lightness. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Mm.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I don\u2019t usually experience it \u2026 You think it\u2019s okay to just feel this lightness without some deep enlightenment?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Yeah, totally. There\u2019s nothing you need to think about or do, just notice and enjoy.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2026 A whole new way of being.<\/p>\n\n\n\n 3. Effortlessness<\/p>\n\n\n\n One of the biggest realizations that struck me during the experience was the constant, relentless state of effort I live in. Everything is a strain, everything must be worked hard at, everything needs to be earned. Try try try. Fix fix fix. All the time, no breaks. <\/p>\n\n\n\n What if, just for once, I stop? Stop fixing. Stop trying. Stop\u2026 efforting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Afterwards, I jotted down:<\/p>\n\n\n\n That moment of looking up at the blank white wall and feeling effortless and complete. State of full being without needs or wants. Blankness that contains the whole of me in total calm.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n 4. Acceptance<\/p>\n\n\n\n Receiving. This was the main tonality of the stillness that flooded me as my ill-fitted shoes came off. A touch of nausea? Well, ok. An external event that has always felt torturous? Well, ok. Deciding not to run and repair this situation that I would normally run and repair? Turns out, also ok. Whatever comes is \u2013 ok.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Imagine that, for someone who\u2019d been trying to analyze, manage and improve their experience so desperately?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not fighting, not going against something, not struggling, it’s ok to «just» receive <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n 5. Painlessness<\/p>\n\n\n\n Another state I didn\u2019t think was possible for me. This one is so vulnerable that, rather than overformulate it, I will let my dialogue with Oskar speak for itself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Oskar?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Mm?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n What if I don\u2019t want this to end?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Mm, it\u2019s okay.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s pretty cool that life can be painless, huh? [with sadness]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n It is. This experience you have right now, you can integrate. You can take parts of it into your life, more and more, and in the end, the need to get high will disappear. Your need to get to this state will be softer and softer because you\u2019ve had more and more of it in your own life, every day. Now it feels like a relief, you don\u2019t want it to end, and that is a part of the process.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Ok\u2026 ok. \u2026 it would be good if it was possible to be pain-free often.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Mm.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Or\u2026 [adjusting expectations] sometimes.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n [both laugh] Sometimes?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Yeah. Once in a while.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n It is. It is possible.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019ve never been pain-free.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Mm. Maybe it\u2019s time to start, a little bit. Try it out.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n And what do I do when it ends?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n We\u2019ll see.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Here\u2019s the kicker. All of this was unfolding on the same unbearable mattress I had spent the night tossing around on. Except, now it was just right. On the same pillow I had spent hours battling with; perfect now. I was, physically, unconditionally comfortable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And I realized: am I ever comfortable? Never. I\u2019m always trying to repair something, not just externally (with regard to other people or situations), but on a bodily level, too. Tossing and turning for hours? Every night. Shifting around on the couch while watching something? By default. Some muscle is always unhappy, some limb\u2019s position always needs tweaking. Something can always be improved. But now, every posture felt natural. No adjustments were necessary. There was nothing to correct.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At the same time, ironically, my body was on a stimulant substance. My heart rate, despite lying down for hours, stuck to around a hundred beats per minute, according to my trusty Fitbit. At some point, my jaw started to tremble uncontrollably. I grind my teeth at night, so I had a nightguard on standby. And as I reached for it, I realized: it wasn\u2019t just the jaw. My hands were shaking, too. Plus, at one point, my eyes did the weird drunky thing called nystagmus (I think?), where they dart slightly back and forth in a rather amusing way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n How can a stimulant be relaxing? I still don\u2019t know. But one thing was interesting to observe. My pulse was racing, or my eyes felt kinky for a bit, but I didn\u2019t interpret it as wrong or a problem. It was fine. Just a given state of things. It didn\u2019t need fixing. As for the shaking? I was struck by the contrast between how uncomfortable it sounds when articulated, and how unproblematic it was in reality. It felt, like everything else, okay. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Memo: how things might sound in words (ugh) vs how they actually feel (no biggie)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The sheer optionality of things<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n When evening began to set over Gothenburg, I picked up my phone for the first time that day. As I held it, I registered: I\u2019d turned it on without a \u201cgulp\u201d this time. My dormant codes hadn\u2019t kicked in yet, so I could observe them clearly: this is where I\u2019d normally go \u201cgulp\u201d. Realizing: I live in dread. Hearing the bing of a text message or an email\u2026 Needing to do something downtown\u2026 Having to get up in the morning, really. Gulp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Anxiety. Life is permeated with it. My heart is constantly dropping over the tiniest things. But why? Just how mandatory are those countless \u201coh no\u201d moments? What would happen if I stopped trying to catch and fix them? In most cases, I saw clearly, it would be okay either way. The sheer optionality of things that have always felt unavoidable \u2013 this was one of my most mind-blowing takeaways.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This idea of recognizing a wormy code for what it is \u2013 a code \u2013 has stayed with me, too. There was a moment during the experience, for example, when Oskar turned to face me. And in the clarity of that state of mind, I could see it: the little red light blinking urgently where a habitual script would run. \u201cReciprocate and reward all gestures of closeness, or you are a bad person. As a bad person, you will be punished, likely by the withdrawal of that closeness. Hurry! Turn to face him, too. Fix this now, before it\u2019s too late.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Must always stay actively kind. Must reciprocate friendliness or risk it being withdrawn; must reward it or I\u2019m a bad person who will regret it \u2013 these formulas were still there, but disengaged now. So I kept still and watched the blinky red light, which would overpower me in any other setting. Oddly, I had just achieved what my meditation teacher had been preaching for years: observe, but don\u2019t engage. I don\u2019t think I even knew what that meant, until now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Through relaxation, I saw how non-compulsory it was to follow those blueprints. Physically, I was comfortable and content in my position \u2013 a rare delight, as mentioned. So I made a choice: I\u2019ll go against my inclinations this time. I\u2019m not going to run this code. <\/p>\n\n\n\n As I went ahead with this decision, I grew aware of the adjacent light beginning to blink, straining to run its own code. It was the fear rolling in. He\u2019ll turn away, and you will have caused it and earned it as retribution for being unkind. He\u2019ll turn away from you now! <\/p>\n\n\n\n Wait, and what if he does? Unbelievably, that would be okay, too. Imagine that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Heightened self-perception<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n As days turned into weeks, I kept recognizing the preset mental blueprints activating within. Those realizations kept flooding in, and I couldn’t stop observing them. Say, on the bus from Gothenburg back to Oslo, I had chosen to reserve a front seat to avoid getting motion sick \u2013 one of my plagues. Alas, the bus was largely empty, meaning that my purchase had been unnecessary. In my situation, the cost was not unnoticeable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It stirred inside right away: \u201cPaid for a seat on an empty bus? So dumb, making wrong choices as always\u2026\u201d Oh, hello, code. I see you. You\u2019re not compulsory. Off you go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The fact that you can choose to let go of your crippling mental habits continues to stun me today. It\u2019s different from the pesky idea that one can just decide to be happy and such. The simplicity of that statement has always disturbed me; I don\u2019t think it\u2019s accurate. I do think that one can learn to discern inner codes that are optional. At first, maybe they come into focus after the event. Then, maybe during one. Ideally, you begin to catch them preemptively, and disengage before they take control. I can\u2019t say I\u2019ve been consistently good at this, especially as the experience retreats in time. But now I\u2019m aware that it\u2019s possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Those overworked muscles<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I reckon now that an MDMA experience releases the muscles in us that are most overworked. Oskar had told me about a client who was uncomfortable with closeness in life; that client was able to achieve emotional closeness with him during their day together. For that person, this is the strained muscle that unfurled as the tight shoes came off. One of my many overtaxed muscles is the repair of wrongs and mending of distances \u2013 real or imagined \u2013 so I, in turn, achieved the perfect solo space during my time with Oskar. As a guide, he grasped and reflected what was needed as the journey unfolded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The muscle effect is literal, too. Remember my jaw shaking? I struggle with TMJ issues from clenching my teeth, nightguard and all. I suspect that the overloaded muscles went wild precisely due to that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n What are your most weary muscles, inside and out? What will you achieve when they let go?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Coming back to the fears<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Anticipated enemies coming to your aid \u2013 this happens, too. Remember that fear about my brain hijacking the experience? Here\u2019s what I shared with Oskar about it afterwards:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI was so worried that, among other obstacles, my mind would be my enemy. Instead, it turned out to be my helper. It helped me to stay lucid enough to comprehend clearly where I was and what I was doing. It stayed up with me the whole time \u2013 but in a new, deeply chill way. Now, this helps to alleviate any retrospective questions (because man, am I a questioner) about whether I was cheating or hallucinating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was concerned about creating some artificial illusion temporarily, then realizing it was never real. But I knew all along that nothing was fixed on the outside, so it’s the internal shifts that were enough to make everything feel unbroken. So: my helper is helping me trust my experience, because it stayed with me and kept observing the authenticity all along. Which is exactly what I thought would be an obstacle. Interesting, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Speaking of cheating<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n During my journey, Oskar pointed out that there\u2019s no inner peace encoded in the substance I\u2019d just taken. No self-compassion, no acceptance. Chemicals are just chemicals. The things you feel in response to them \u2013 those are in you. Why they hide away in daily life is one of the biggest questions I came away with. I don\u2019t have a profound answer to that; at least, not yet. But what I felt came from within me, not from within the pill. It was intrinsic to me. This I know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was concerned that psychedelic therapy means merely cheating one\u2019s way out of reality. Now I realize: I wasn\u2019t afraid of just going back to the miserable me after the journey ended. I was afraid of going back to the miserable me who had failed even in trying to cheat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Instead, I gained the most lucid take on what\u2019s possible when the codes are paused and the burdens lifted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Here are the notes that came out of this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n I can exist differently yet still be me \/ be conscious \u2013 high with relaxation, not with cheating.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n «So, is this cheating?» \u2013 no, just the authentic you.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Authentic you is a state of being okay. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n There are bumps, they pass; still okay.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n They pass at letting go. Of them and of the fear.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n This may sound like transcendental nonsense, but it\u2019s not. There\u2019s a scientific explanation, one of the reasons MDMA is being researched as a therapy substance. It floods one\u2019s brain with good stuff like dopamine, serotonin, norepinephrine, oxytocin. But like I said, I experienced no stereotypical euphoria. Instead, what I got was profound chillness. Those chemicals chip away at the tensions we carry around with us. As we release the tensions, we get access to the \u201cself\u201d beneath them. That\u2019s all. The effect will end and the tensions will return, maybe even with a vengeance. But guess what? Now you\u2019ve seen you without them. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Now you know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Clarity in the larger scheme of things<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Every day, everything in my life is an effort. Even good stuff, not to mention bad stuff. Meditation is an effort, straining to get it right. Going through a list of positive affirmations is an effort, almost bursting with willpower. Dealing with negative thoughts and keeping them at bay is an effort. Making sure that everyone is fine and fixing everything is, do I even need to say it, an effort. It\u2019s a full-on state of being.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Turns out that it’s possible to move through life differently. Not trying to be happy. Not trying to stay positive. Not trying to be useful, perceptive, loved, fill in the blank. Not trying to be anything at all. And still being okay. Actually, not «still» \u2013 for the first time, being okay. <\/p>\n\n\n\n When a good friend habitually reminded me to think happy thoughts sometime after my experience, I responded: No more mandatory happy thoughts for me, I think. I want something else. I want to exert less effort on the smaller ins and outs of mere existence. Forced happy thoughts included.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We’re taught to strive for things, to imagine good things coming our way. Numerous traditions are built on some kind of exertion. Some kind of wanting. There are whole philosophies that teach us to want right, in a way that would make things come true (such as affirmations and positive thinking and such). Never quite worked for me. In tune with my patterns, I assumed I wasn\u2019t trying hard enough. I also concluded the habitual: I\u2019m probably defective. The mere possibility that I\u2019m not is, well, mind-boggling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was so worried that this experience would go so very wrong, and it went so f*cking right. Two possibilities arise from that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Focus on the first, I tell myself. Recognize, but don\u2019t focus on, the second. It\u2019s a code. You know about those now. And you know deep inside, with clarity that\u2019s pretty unusual for this bedazzled being, that it was anything but a fluke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Getting a blank slate<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The evening after my experience, talking to new friends at a dinner table, I caught myself reciting the same old stories that supposedly define and illuminate who I am. This thing happened at twenty, that thing happened at thirty, and so on. Except, this time, there was a distinct sensation of pouring stale water onto a new clear sheet. <\/p>\n\n\n\n An MDMA journey can yield a kind of blank slate, so to speak. I had to ask myself: wait, why do I keep telling this unchanged old tale? It\u2019s outdated and kind of irrelevant now. The thing is, it\u2019s never felt outdated or irrelevant before. So, in a way, you get to redefine yourself a bit, while the canvas is still freshly washed. You get to choose the stories you keep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And, at the same time: it\u2019s okay if an ancient chronicle was accidentally re-told tonight. It doesn\u2019t really matter. The lack of self-punishment here, the shrinking of scales of what\u2019s important to repair, was one of the most riveting effects of my first journey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n What about the comedown?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t experience the traditional comedown, or crashing \u2013 a marked deterioration in mood as all those good chemicals leave one\u2019s body. Instead, I carried the feeling of inner flight into everyday life for a while. No longer medicated, but still impacted. This was so vivid that some things no longer fit. For example, a friend and I had been binging a show with a fair amount of dark and unhappy imagery. After I got back to Oslo and we sat down to continue watching it, I pretty much couldn\u2019t stand it. Life was so out of tune with its ambience that, after a while, I had to ask if we could stop for now. It just felt off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Weeks later, when we tried it again, the ambience no longer felt disagreeable. I suppose I was back to the old vibrations, so to speak, and we binged the show to the end without obstacles. In a way, on a scale from 0 (below ground) to 10 (above clouds), I went from 1 (before experience) to 10 (experience) to\u2026 maybe 2 or 3? So, back to real life, which is a kind of extended comedown, I suppose. Yet that couple of gained points on the \u201cdefault state\u201d scale? Priceless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Which is to say: you do end up returning to the crappy habits and old blueprints and the not-so-great inner stuff. At the same time, you return there with fresh, first-hand knowledge of how things could<\/em> be, and what state of mind might get you there. Not in theory, not in wishful thinking, but in practice. A kind of inner guidance can stem from that knowledge, if you let it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To sum up the aftereffects: the first days were brilliant, the second week was lovely; the third one started to get a bit shaky; I had defaulted by about a month later. At the same time, things look clearer, somehow. Even back down here, at scale level 2, they continue to look clearer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n There was this colossal wall in front of me for most of my life, and I just got to the other side of it. I\u2019d like to make choices that lead me forward from there (even if it\u2019s mostly at 2 or 3). I would rather avoid doing things that will set me running back towards it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Intention-wise, it doesn\u2019t get much clearer than that. In practice? Let\u2019s see how it unfolds. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I keep mentioning Oskar because he was such a vital part of my experience. Preparation, trip-sitting, integration: he provided these three columns, and everything rested upon them. But before I got in touch with him, his role seemed rather unclear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n What makes a good sitter? No, really. Are they always around to fetch a glass of water when you need one? Do they pat you on the hand if you\u2019re having a hard time? The thing is, I\u2019d say this kind of stuff makes a good person. Any one of your friends is, more likely than not, a good person. But you\u2019re hiring someone else. So, what makes a good sitter?<\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s not too different from what makes a good mountain guide, which is why \u201ctrip sitter\u201d and \u201cpsychedelic guide\u201d are often used interchangeably. These individuals must have been here before, many times and in all sorts of weather. They know the terrain, the pitfalls, the shortcuts. They may not have the proverbial map, because some things cannot quite be mapped. But they\u2019ve got the compass. And despite their immense experience with such journeys, they haven’t lost sight of how you might be feeling as you walk there, wide-eyed, for the very first time. In fact, they\u2019re rooting for you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Oh, and they\u2019re carrying the first aid kit. If things go south, they\u2019ll know how to reach you in a way even the best of friends might not. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Like a good mountain guide, a good sitter excels at helping you both stay safe and feel safe. I\u2019d say this happens through three channels:<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Normalizing the experience<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n One of the most important things Oskar did for me, throughout the experience and beyond, was normalize its nuances. He listened to my observations and concerns with full respect for them, but without offering a judgment in return. He didn\u2019t propose some standard words of comfort about that newly coined \u201cpukiness\u201d, for example. He acknowledged it and then let it be a part of things. And, as an accepted part of things, it calmed down. I didn\u2019t realize until then how often we rely on consolation (\u201coh no, are you okay, it will get better\u201d) when acceptance can be, as it turns out, more reassuring. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Whenever I brought a question to him, he offered feedback that was honest, thoughtful, and non-pathologizing. What if I have a bad trip? Could be; we\u2019ll deal with that. Yikes, are my eyes jolting weirdly? Yeah, a bit. D\u2019you think having a heightened sense of hearing, like I do, is a defect of some sort? Mm, who knows, it might be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n No denying, no diminishing, no smoothing over anything that feels odd, no verdicts. Because the point is: all of these things could be true, or not true, and you\u2019re still okay. <\/p>\n\n\n\n A person projecting a steady and informed recognition of your experience, as it turns out, is the right person to have by your side when you\u2019re facing the unknown.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This brings us back to the first aid kit. Guides can be calm and supportive in a convincing way when they have the tools to recognize and address the things that might actually need intervention. A day later, while reading a book on another floor of the building, I briefly happened to hear some of the sounds of another person\u2019s experience. One could tell that it was unfolding differently from mine. I also knew that Oskar was there with that client, and that the client was safe. This guide has seen and handled a whole lot of different journeys by now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Keeping track of the details<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n You\u2019re experiencing existence on so many new levels that it shouldn\u2019t be your job to remember the little things. For example, that nightguard I described earlier. I brought it up with Oskar only in passing, while discussing something else. It was, indeed, a very brief mention. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Hours later, when the effect of MDMA had reached my jaw, I fumbled around the mattress while muttering: \u201cIt might be time to protect my teeth\u2026\u201d. To this, Oskar said: \u201cIt\u2019s right here.\u201d \u2013 and handed me the nightguard case, which he\u2019d kept by his side from the very start.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He heard me mention a detail that he knew to identify as relevant, took note, and made sure he could provide it without delay when needed. This is quite unlike asking for a glass of water (which, as we\u2019d agreed, any good friend would bring you) because it takes perceptiveness and some orientation skills regarding what may come up along the way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In another discussion, I shared my reservations about using the eye mask and the headphones \u2013 \u201cdo I have to?…\u201d \u2013 because it didn\u2019t sound right in terms of isolation, somehow. Maybe because I wanted to stay connected to my guide, maybe because I\u2019m claustrophobic. Either way, I was reluctant. And, indeed, I didn\u2019t use the headphones at all during the experience, and only tried the mask for a little while. <\/p>\n\n\n\n But something else came out of that discussion: from this mention of concern over closed space in the context of headphones, Oskar had gathered enough to leave the room door wide open that day. An open door was exactly what I would have wanted, but I was thinking about other things and didn\u2019t address this particular element. In the end, without any direct requests, the room stayed unlocked all along, though I suspect it\u2019s usually closed during private sessions. Basically, he picked up more than I had said. He picked up the details.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Gauging your needs<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n On a larger scale, too, a good sitter is proficient in identifying clues as to what their role should be in order to benefit you most. I think this gauging started in our online prep sessions. To me, they were mostly about talking and sharing. To Oskar, I reckon now, those conversations also offered a chance to assess what I might require from him \u2013 even when I didn\u2019t quite know it yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For example, I needed to have no external expectations as I went about my experience. This was important because I\u2019m so darn preoccupied with (not) disappointing others. In response, Oskar made sure his presence was unintrusive. For the most part, he relaxed nearby with his eyes closed. The moment I moved or stirred, however, one eye was inevitably on me, watchful. It was exactly the kind of companionship I thrived with, but didn\u2019t know I would until the experience began. It appears he knew, thanks to his background in guiding very different people with diverse sets of needs and preferences.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Another sketch can help reflect this attunement to the client\u2019s individuality. As we talked during the experience, I mentioned that I struggle with receiving services like haircuts or massages. I get consumed with entertaining the other person, keeping things warm and human for them, trying to be worth their time, perpetually earning any effort spent on me. In this anxious setting, passive enjoyment is out of the question. This, too, is about other people\u2019s expectations \u2013 though, more than likely, projected and imaginary. They do feel remarkably real when you sense that you\u2019re failing them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To explore this further under the influence of MDMA, Oskar offered a gentle foot touch. And even though the substance was freeing me from so many things, I still couldn\u2019t receive it without heightened self-awareness, immediate guilt about his efforts, and questions about worthiness. In response to this struggle, Oskar did a perceptive thing. Remember those eye masks he keeps for his clients? He found one for himself and put it on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now, psychologically, by some odd association, he was no longer expecting anything of me. If I did do something \u2013 try to smile, acknowledge him, or signal concerns about his comfort \u2013 he simply wouldn\u2019t see it. \u201cWhy did the eye mask make such a difference?\u201d I jotted down later, and I still don\u2019t have an answer to this question. But it did. Uneasily, delicately, I was able to enjoy a few minutes of that foot touch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This kind of intuitive orientation skills take an experienced, thoughtful, and self-reflective guide. I didn\u2019t realize I had lucked out with one, until I had lucked out with one. <\/p>\n\n\n\n What happens next?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Integration refers to weaving the experience into one\u2019s daily life afterwards. Oskar offers a guidance document on that, where he writes: \u201cThere is a grace period of about two weeks following the psychedelic experience when you can form new habits or get rid of old ones.\u201d When I read it at first, I wasn\u2019t sure what this even meant. New habits? Old ones? What?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now, I\u2019d say I was pretty much on schedule. And, as he predicts, I do feel a calling to repeat the journey. I\u2019m being mindful of that and taking it slow. I definitely want to do it again, but for the right reasons. Not merely for more relief from the cramped old shoes, but for further insight about keeping them off. I know experiences differ, and I know the next one can be very dissimilar. I\u2019d like to be ready for that. I\u2019d like to learn from that, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat do I do when it ends?\u201d I had asked Oskar when I waded through the sadness of my journey\u2019s temporality. He offered an answer to that, and I\u2019d like to conclude by sharing it here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maybe you\u2019ll grieve that it ends, and you\u2019ll be scared that you won\u2019t get it back, and that this is the only way you can feel this way. And then, you\u2019ll realize that it\u2019s not. Part of this process is just to learn what is good, to recognize that feeling. Then, even if it\u2019s over and gone, you\u2019ll still recognize it. You\u2019ll recognize it when you meet someone, when you\u2019re by yourself, you start noticing what feels good to you, and then you start using that as a compass. What you should work on, where you should live, who you should hang out with, what you should do for yourself. It\u2019s a very natural process. We\u2019re all drawn to what feels good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Would you need more trips for that?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Probably. It took me a while. But as long as you start the process, it doesn\u2019t matter if it takes a while. As long as you feel like you have a goal or you\u2019re moving in the right direction, you can start enjoying the journey that you\u2019re on. The hopelessness disappears\u2026 you know?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Yeah, I think I know. <\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s as if I have dropped a location pin onto some inner maps: this is how I\u2019d like to feel every day, someday. This is the freedom I\u2019d like to achieve inside; this is the lack of suffering; these are the unhelpful patterns; this is what unfolds when they are suspended. It\u2019s almost like an orientation device, a kind of GPS. Now I feel around for this state of mind \u2013 this state of being \u2013 as if poking my way through a dark room, catching tiny moments of light in the simplest of places: brewing a fresh cup of coffee, walking through the woods, watching the fireplace, easing into a warm bath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Those moments were always there, and I\u2019ve always sought them out instinctively (I love baths, and fireplaces, and forests, and fresh coffee). But now, they\u2019re not just incidental pleasures; they\u2019re a part of something larger. Something that\u2019s invariably there, but obscured most of the time. Something I can work on revealing and grasping more fully. <\/p>\n\n\n\n If that\u2019s not hope, then what is?<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2026 Trust, let go, be open.<\/p>\n\n\n\nBefore<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
During<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
The 5+1 things I felt <\/h4>\n\n\n\n
\n
5+1. Comfort (the physical body)<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
After <\/h3>\n\n\n\n
\n
\n
The guide\u2019s role <\/h3>\n\n\n\n
\n