the artists way book report music

Last week, I stepped on stage and played a short set of three original punk songs at a local open mic night.

Honestly, it felt fucking amazing.

See, I love punk rock music. I love listening to it. I love playing it. And I’ve been wanting to perform again for years.

I played in a punk band as a teenager, and a rock band as a student, but I hadn’t played or performed publicly since.

The last time was over 10 years ago.

Rocking out, c. 2009

So how did I get back on stage, shouting these songs about being a loner, an ill-fated LSD trip, and the war on drugs?

Of course, this didn’t happen overnight. I have been building back to this for a while. A key moment was stopping in Berlin, and getting back into going to live shows.

But regardless, I have no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have made it back to the stage already without doing The Artist’s Way.

the artists way book report music

The Artist’s Way is a course in book form. Subtitled ‘the classic course in discovering and recovering your creative self’, it is a program to be followed over 12 weeks. There are weekly reading and homework exercises to be done throughout the 12 week period.

So, wanting to use the new year’s energy as a fresh boost, I started the course on January 1st and just finished on Saturday.

The course is deep and the book covers a lot of ground, so in this post I won’t cover everything.
This will be a brief overview of my experience with The Artists Way, to give you an idea of what it’s like and if it might be for you.

The Tools

Outside of the weekly reading and exercises, there are two main tools in The Artists Way, The Morning Pages and The Artist’s Date.

The Morning Pages

The morning pages are three pages of longhand journaling to be done every morning.

A4 pages.
So about 30 minutes of pen and paper journaling every single morning.

I definitely felt resistance to this amount of journaling at times. But when I commit to something, I like to stick with it. So I did.

Generally, the pages can be about anything and everything.

For me, I found they were a chance to check in with myself, see what’s on my mind, dump it onto the page (I see notepads somewhat like therapists – in their non-judgmental receptivity), and actively think through things.

The pages gave me a chance to think actively and somewhat consciously, about areas I want to focus on in my life.

One section of the course involved writing down areas you need help or guidance on before you sleep and then journaling about them in the morning. This was like active brainstorming and problem-solving. I put key areas of my life I wanted to focus on business, romance, and music – and fundamentals: eat, move, sleep.

As directed, the pages were also used for affirmations, exploring personal beliefs, and open-ended brainstorming.

Though the pages were quite a commitment, I found them to be hugely helpful.

I felt mentally clearer, and more ready and eager for each day by the time I finished the,.

I could also see which topics were recurring, giving me insight into the contents of my mind.

Will I keep them up since finishing the 12 weeks?

Definitely.

Not every single day, but more as needed. Maybe a couple of times a week.

The Artist’s Date

The second main tool is The Artist’s Date.

The Artist’s Date is a weekly activity, say 2 hours, where you take you – and your inner artist – on a play date. It’s something to capture your imagination and nurture your creative consciousness. And the emphasis should be on fun.

It is to be done alone, with the idea that you are able to receive thoughts, and ideas – to hear your own inner voice.

I will admit that I found this surprisingly hard to keep up. I was also a bit unimaginative.

Still, I found it worthwhile. I went to the cinema a few times, a great hobby that I haven’t been up to much in the last couple of years. (and at a local cinema, for £5 a film, it’s a steal really).

Birmingham Artists Date

My funnest and most story-worthy artist date was heading over to the city of Birmingham, booking myself into a hostel for the night, and taking MDMA to go and see Titus Andronicus, a punk/indie band whose album An Obelisk has one of my favourites of the last few years.

The gig was a poignant experience in an unexpected way – but to save turning this into a trip report – the highlight was meeting one of my heroes after the show.

At the merch stand, I told ringleader Patrick that his music has been important to me, and thanked him. He visibly softened, expressed his appreciation, and extended his hand to shake in a tender and meaningful moment that’ll stay with me.

Honestly, I get a little misty just recalling it now.

After the gig, I went back to the hostel and ended up playing guitar in the common area for the travelers staying up and hanging out. I felt nervous before, but 7 weeks into the course, with the exercises I’d been doing, reflecting on my creative dreams, and plotting steps to get there, it pushed me over the edge in terms of picking up the guitar. Those continued steps got me to the first open mic a couple of weeks later on.

Weekly Tasks

Through the course, I would go to a cafe each Sunday and do my weekly reading and any journaling or written exercises.

This was a highlight of my week. It got me excited, inspired, and dreaming. I reflected, and wrote out action plans and small changes I would make.

Outside of journaling and reflection, other homework tasks included clearing out old stuff, writing letters to yourself, and mailing postcards to friends. An interesting one was a ban on reading for a week! There was a tonne of others. I won’t spoil the surprises but a few others were making collages, saying prayers, collecting pretty rocks, and treating oneself to childhood favorite foods.

There was a wide range of topics explored through the twelve weeks, really too much for me to dig into here, but one that resonated with me was perfectionism, process, and balance.

Perfectionism and Process

A key returning revelation was that we must allow ourselves to be bad artists if we are to be artists at all.

We must allow ourselves to make mistakes, understand that doing so is a necessary part of the process, and know that we won’t start great. This shifts the framing to process over result.

Balance

The Artist’s Way emphasizes a point of balance. It’s not all directly about creative work – in fact, very little of it is.

Sure, there is inner therapeutic work that includes looking at previous and childhood experiences and how they may have conditioned us. And the exercises include establishing a support system. And I can see why the process has apparently been used by therapists.

But a lot of it is about personal growth and self-care, bringing fun into life, and understanding that this leads to creative lives. Creativity is about festivity, enthusiasm, joy, and dreams. This was one of my favorite things about it.

One part I liked was that we surveyed six areas of our life. These were: work, exercise, romance/adventure, spirituality, play, and friends. These were rated three times throughout the course to check progress. Although I did go down in some areas (spirituality, exercise, and work suffered losses), overall, I gained 7 points across the board between week 2 and week 11, and this was hugely encouraging. Honestly, it felt great.

Final Thoughts

Overall, the 12 weeks on The Artist’s Way has been an amazing experience.

In general, I really enjoy committing to a guided growth process and allowing it to unfold as it will.

A couple of years ago I did a course in creativity: Amplify by Steve Pavlina, and the fruits were largely directed toward my psychedelic work. It was also hugely rewarding and had a big hand in the creation of the first version of The Conscious Psychedelic Explorer course, now three cohorts in and with plans to grow.

This time it was great for the focus to be on music, a love of mine that has been somewhat dormant but crying for attention in recent years. The fact I’ve performed solo in public now 5 times in the last 4 weeks (after 0 performances in the last 10 years, and never solo), with a childlike eagerness to continue, and a tonne of fresh ideas for songs and performances, speaks for itself.

I will admit that my enthusiasm for the process did wax and wane over the 12 weeks, and at times I found it quite hard to keep up. I didn’t do all of the exercises, not even close. But as Cameron writes, you can’t do the course perfectly, and as someone with sometimes obsessive tendencies (I like to be really thorough when I do things like this), I took this as a chance to practice letting go of perfectionism.

That said, I also think I will cycle back around for a second time, and do the things that I didn’t manage the first.

I have seen it dubbed: “A revolutionary program for personal renewal, The Artist’s Way will help get you back on track, rediscover your passions, and take the steps you need to change your life.”

I absolutely agree.

Overall, it’s been a great reminder of how much growth can be achieved in a short time when one is committed. And just as importantly, how fun, interesting, and exciting our lives can be.

Do The Artist’s Way With My Support

I’m hugely excited about the idea of offering a group process with The Artists Way, with weekly meetings and check-ins with a group of fellow explorers to share the journey with. I have some ideas for incorporating psychedelics into this course that I’m massively excited about too.

If you’re interested in doing this with a group of psychedelic-friendly folks, get in touch or join my mailing list.

In the meantime, if you’re interested in doing this in a 1-1 coaching format, just send me a message. I’d love to support you in your creative life!

Huangshan sunrise china mountain amt

Welcome to day 8 PSYJuly 🙂

In 2013, fellow seeker and Shanghai based expat Matt Nicol and I embarked on a journey to Huangshan, the famous Yellow Mountains of China. We did so armed with only two small backpacks, twenty joints, and two bombs of αMT. I am delighted to share Matt’s account of an incredible day during our time there…

Twenty Plus Two

The howl of another Chinese man-child spreads voraciously around the valley below. Beginning to fathom the splendid view he could contain himself no longer and then, barely gripping the handrail, leaned fully over the ledge to bellow and roar. Guttural flashes bounce over every crevice and return to us. I am here, he says. In the great expanse of time of all creatures and people who have stood here and documented their existence, I, too, am here. The mountains do not register; the mountains show no inkling of encouragement or receptivity: they give no concern for the sound echoed by past and present. What joy, what exuberance, to behold this man registering his powerful fragility amongst the vastness. Enveloping in a cry the girlfriend stood awkwardly by the deep reds that fade to nascent yellows, all punctuated by the green and browns of the miracle pines that line these sights.

How long did we stand there? In total, the time it takes to walk one step. We’d followed this man, of thick expression and oval features, for all time. We’d followed this woman, perplexing and quiet, time and a half. For our purpose we were a little less than halfway through endless present moments.

An alarm had been set that day. Agreed the night before, it would sound two hours before sunrise. And it was so. In one movement the alarm was silenced and a bomb was dropped and sleep resumed. Then, it sounded again. An hour already? Five more minutes. It sounds again. It’s time. Weary feet find shoes and trousers and the correct path. Darkness meets a coy lightness; they narrate our way, gradually revealing the path over and under the mountains.

Paused ascent becomes the resting place as we continue to come up. My companion takes a closer inspection on all fours. Clandestine smokes are the final preparation as eyes penetrate the day. Slowly, in bursts, accustomed in parts of a whole but not wholly. A place by the path, we settle and wait and watch our silence united. The approaching luminary comes. Layer upon layer of detail is stencilled in to the valley.

A black ship rises, dancing against the again invigorated blue. A medley of shapes twirl before us but it disbands, there is no encore. Yet there is no need, see there now, as if for the first time, the pregnant glow of the horizon. It arrests us all but calls mesmerizingly, the moment comes it comes it comes it is here: an orange crescent that reaches to us gladly in warmth and wisdom.

O great giver of life we are here today to greet you.

Millennia of solar worship are understood. Yet it is only after the fact that I am able to extricate these points to recognise them, to deconstruct the symbiotic perfection of that sunrise. In this moment filled with weightless understanding. In this moment caged by returned analysis. In this moment all is there: limitless and limited and all wondrously connected. The sun reveals amber shoulders and a darkening, smooth belly, its warm caress softly closing your eyes and demanding you perceive it.

Cheers further down the way pepper the slow ascent of the globular monster. Its brightness blinds at first, seeming to irradiate from a single point above the line of sky and earth; it tempts appreciative peeks and wild smiles as suddenly it towers above the morning’s mist and ignites. Warmth descends and guides rising spirits: the eyes must close to it now and instead feel the gentle consistency of its presence against body and person.

Petal led legs fold as the hands adopt their pose,

feel the dear sensation now the sun has rose.

Sit with the breath and the mind shall rest,

in a body worn as clothes.

The sun it rises and our faces smile and the matinee peace sits with us here

by this mountain path,

by this sheer drop,

by this vast ocean valley before us.

We have been sitting here now for a short while though most are beginning to return. Now the moment has passed they slink away in their groups, chatting and laughing and planning the day ahead, there is still so far to go. We sit by the path with its gentle stairs, short plateaus and sudden descents, scuffling shoes, and droplets of conversation. Our backs face a staircase and from here there is a sheer drop in front of us; the body on which we sit begins to stretch out somewhere below, straining to greet its temperate and rough companions. Mere specks on the shoulder of a slumbering beast, we have never seen as far as we do now: through mountaintop and rich valley stretching to where the sky tries to catch the fleeing earth. There are trees next to and above us, catching the sun and casting back shadows, before gleefully floating on breezes. Down far to our right the path swiftly becomes cloud and we can see no further.

A group now approaches, I can hear them sounding young and tired but pleased, and they pass us now and start to leave. Faintly recognizable from a chance encounter in darkness the night before, one approaches to ask if we remember them. Of course, we smile, greeting him and the bemused rest.

He says, may I take your photo?

Well, I don’t see why not.

You are handsome and cool, he says.

My brother, you have no idea.

A short shoot is arranged, first alone and then with befriended strangers. They know not of what they have touched this day; we garner this attention by merit of paler skin and stranger clothes and perhaps wider eyes. You have all become a part of our trip, friends, and for that we thank you before you go. Now they are gone, a thought: to whom has that photo been shown?

Yet we did not ascend to such a peak unassisted, and though we may still have further to climb this day it is unlikely to be in so isolated a state as this now. Soon the gates and cables will be opened and social media snappers will infest this celestial place. Perhaps just a little while longer, here we have time and no time and thus no fear. A certain solemnity has marked the whole occasion: expectations of wild thought and breathless talk have yet to bear fruit; instead, we sit in the shade of silent discussion. There we have the plan for the day and here we decide that now is when we should start to move on. 

With everything now returned to bags and backs and a final salutation of the sun committed, we begin to return. A short journey, though it visits several peaks and troughs, will take us to our place of rest: a mountain-top hotel upon a peak grazed by clouds. With the bags then packed and ourselves assembled we begin our saunter, skipping lightly through leaves and stones. Approaching a sheer drop staircase, the path we follow gently dissolves and becomes a forgotten part of the grand expanse of sky. It seems we’ve nothing in front of us now, merely these stairs that have been sculpted from rock.

Then, appearing without care, a splendid view: one majestic peak, three smaller kneeling before it, and a precarious stair path that snakes along, inviting and calling to us to follow this road. We had been sat from this sight for some hours in ignorance of what was before us, so now we stop, paused, wide of mouth yet nostril breathing, at the view. Jagged barren tips that reach from feet some distance below us are lined with trees and stand casually by. They need no appreciation, the quiet rest ongoing from an explosive birth inside the earth eons ago. We are pebbles, if not grains of sand, and begin to return as we must.

Just one step.

One step.

One step.

The short walk to the hotel seems shorter than the night before but only as a concept of time has evaporated. First we may look back to where we had been before, toward a great height that seems unimaginable now. Then to the side, away from our safe view down into the great life of below, a hand still placed on the rock face, just lightly so.  Or still forward, the undulating path that patiently waits for us to pass – that we may never return matters not, it is only that we may survey these great swathes of being. Beauty may be appreciated, yet it remains a projected conceptualisation from within: no matter, we will get closer to truth.

We arrive.

The carpets are louder and the staircase wider and the corridor the longest I’ve ever seen. Tracing through the faded memories of this Technicolor floor and dearly anticipating the soft, safe sanctuary of that far-flung corner door. It clicks open. First there is the protrusion of the bathroom, then two single beds opposite a dresser; the fourth wall is a window to another marvellous scene. Music, we need music. Felled like a tamed impala, I dissolve onto the bed with eyes brightened by clouds kissing crags and the looming solemnity that awaits this juvenile pool. Still yet we sit in silence. Of what use now is talk? We are spoiled by this view, this experience, this sensory heaven. (We know we will have to leave later, though such a time seems impossible so then discussion needless.) Seconds slide past our window. The soundtrack to our bliss-movie winds through hibernation and wonder. Raspberry Cane drops: one of my great ecstasies. Crawling and running, funnelled and expansive; into and through the silent and screaming recesses of mind. Circling now, still yet circling, closer to being and being further than before:

Nature is my nature,

Time is my view,

Beauty is my mantra,

beautiful is Truth.

Having checked out, pleasantries abounding, we return to the square just outside and settle into our walk. To feel sunlight and breeze eases the spirit and we begin: a single step to take us over three peaks and a valley. We gently pass through a careening mass of people who shout and spit and see only five megapixels at a time. We sit to let them pass, we smile as they snap us, our silence to their chatter, their lives and ours joined by passing glances. And then we continue, as they do too, too many views to recount in moments that were endless.

I have been struggling with these countless stairs, not knowing where to look: need I see my feet to walk or may I look further out? I still have half of this narrow staircase to tread and yet, the right hand rises, softly grazing then gently placed upon the rock face it lands on understanding.

We stand before a signpost with our maps outstretched though they don’t agree with each other. Which path is the right to tread? We choose, walk, choose, walk, and arrive in time.

There are mentions of rain showers all around us; a fear of falling water accelerates the saunters. We all huddle until it passes.

As I reach the bottom of another set of stairs I glance to my left to see my gaze caught by a monk. In that moment that we share we find time to communicate complete understanding.

Again, we take rest, there’s no need to hurry. My companion notices a small mountain spring and is taking the opportunity to refill our empty bottles, repeating the act for many of those who pass the other way. One young girl is astounded, Foreigners, is the explanation of her wise, smiling grandfather.

We have been following a young couple for some time, scaling a great peak before greatly accepting its adjacent decline. They kiss and skip and chatter, often looking back to see us both simply stepping through arpeggio raindrop cascades. They emerge to a peak and gasp, letting go of hands and inching toward the edge. Hear him now: hear how he howls.

Huangshan sunrise china mountain amt

My Psychedelic Story Part 1

Soon after returning home from Latin America in 2017, my Mum decided to leave my Dad after many years of difficulties in their marriage. It was a very difficult time for us all, for both of them, for my older brother, and for myself.

I managed to take it reasonably well, understanding the reasons why after seeing it not really working for many years. I wanted them to stay together but didn’t want to continue seeing the pain that they were both in in the relationship. It broke my heart but felt like it was the only real way forward. In the end, I just wanted both of them to be happy.

I tried my best to conduct myself as a good son, to do the best that I could, supporting them both through the process, having long talks with both of them, hearing both of them, and not taking either side.

It was during this period of separation, whilst we were still living in the same house, that I went again up to Sheffield for a private solo psychedelic session.

I was in an emotionally rocky patch with everything going on, and even cried on the train ride from my home town of Leamington up to Sheffield. I stayed in a friends house whilst he was away for the weekend. One of those friends who I’d had my very first experiences with.

I conducted this session in the most considered and ceremonial way of all the trips I had yet. I had done the photo trip in the weeks before, and had a selection of them with me. On the day, I tidied the space thoroughly before, burnt sage, opened with a prayer in a simple dropping ceremony, then I took around 2 and a half tabs of 1p-LSD.

I used headphones and an eye mask for the first time, following the standard protocol used in the research and by the practitioners in the books I’d read by James Fadiman and Leo Zeff.

The come up was pretty bumpy and early on I used nitrous oxide to ground myself and drop in to experience. However, I continued to I encounter hurdles of anxiety and doubt as my sense of self continued to shift and dissolve. I just kept reassuring myself ‘I am OK, I have taken LSD, this is part of the experience, relax yourself’. I continued to follow my meditation training, relaxing myself by returning to my breath, breathing deep, and relaxing all the muscles in my body. 

In the first chapter I flew through music, and even before hearing them, saw notes and sounds as objects formed in colourful patterns, flying through wide open space, and crashing in to an invisible wall and exploding as those sounds actually reached my ears and I heard them. I felt my perception open wide beyond me and I lay marvelled at a sense of liberation and wonder. My first album of Brazilian psychedelic rock ended and I put on some Brian Eno.

At some point I’m not really sure what or how it happened, but I left.

I dissolved in to the energy of the universe. I became one with the all encompassing stream of energy that makes up all spirit, matter and life. But at the same time there was some how some witness experiencing it. It’s strange in that I only came to understand it in this way after I came out of it and some how back in my body later on. Whilst in it, it just was, but I wasn’t there.

In that experience, there were visions of what felt like a past life, and alternate realities, or sub realities to the one in which we inhabit.

There were cryptic messages, somehow transmitted to me, that my mother and father will come together again, though it may be after these current incarnations.

Somehow in some way, they will find their way back to each other and it will be the most beautiful reunion. They will both see and understand it all, and that their separation in this way was just a part of a larger story. 

As parents, they have more than done their part. They have done so much for me. I will forever be thankful for them, all the love and support that they have shown me and the most incredible parents that they have been. They will, and we as a family, will find our love for each other again. Their break, as everything, is temporary. Everything will come together again.

Somewhere in this universal experience, I saw my life within the great story of life and of humanity. Somehow, my whole life, not just up to that point, but of my years to come, had already happened. I understood that my life is just an expression of the universe. Just like how a single one of my smiles is an expression of me, John Robertson, at one moment in my life, I understood how my entire life as John Robertson is a singular expression of the universe, at one extended moment. Again, I didn’t see it and understand it in that moment, it somehow happened after, coming to me in bits and pieces during the hours, days and weeks after the experience as I reflected and processed.

Half returned to my body but still very much in the experience. I flooded with tears. I sobbed and wept like a baby. I don’t believe I have cried so hard since I was an actual baby, so full and unashamed as it was. Full throttle, deep and reverberating, out and out bawling. It was right, to let it out, and I felt all the pain of my parents relationship flowing out as memories of situations from our home came back to me. 

After my weeping descended, on a toilet break, I saw myself in the bathroom mirror, my eyes still wet with tears. I saw myself as a young boy of around 8 or 9. I saw this poor young boy standing before me and felt a compassion and lovingkindness towards him. And then a thought came to my mind…. ‘so this is what our society deems to be a criminal’. Here was this boy, trying to help myself, doing no harm to anyone else… and this is a criminal activity. It felt so wrong.

Why should this be illegal?

I was extremely fortunate in that I had a friend who had a house that I had access to. But that was extremely lucky. What if he hadn’t gone away for the weekend? And what about all the people who don’t have access to a private space?

I received tremendously from this experience but it was a massive logistical struggle to set up. Before even beginning to think about the space, it was very difficult to procure that LSD in the first place. It was only because of my prior experiences, combined with reading reports from the studies and research, that I knew there was something really there with psychedelics, something really worth discovering. If I didn’t have such a firm conviction, I would have given up long before.

I considered how many people could benefit from this type of experience but are prohibited from doing . It upset me. The criminalisation of LSD and other psychedelics made no sense. It felt deeply unjust. 

That feeling stayed with me. I felt indignant about drug policy and with a new clarity I saw how insane current drug laws are. In a burst of passion I wrote a draft on my journey home, trying to find the angle from every side, scribbling in notebooks on bus and train rides back. 

Back at home, I had gained a deeper understanding and insight in to my parents separation. I could place no blame on either side. I thought of their upbringings, raised in different continents, from different cultures and backgrounds. It was just unfortunate that didn’t work out in the way we had all hoped. Any lingering feelings I had of frustration and resent towards my parents dissolved. I understood them as my way of trying to deal with the difficult feelings that came from losing my family and home as I knew it.

I came to a deeper compassion for both of my parents. Neither of them wanted this and they both suffered as a result of it too. No one was to blame, it was just how it went. Whatever happened, I know I had super parents, and I understand how incredibly fortunate I was to have grown up in such a loving and caring household, that always wanted me to succeed, that always supported me, that has always been there for me.

Mum and Dad, I love you both so much and will be forever grateful. I hope that I can only show the world the love you have shown to me. If I can bring an ounce of that to others, I know the world will be a better place. Your love has given me deep strength and inner resources to go on in my life. You have taught me to always try my best, to try to do the right thing, and at the bottom of it all, with heart.

This experience gave me a deep reverence for the high dose ceremonial psychedelic experience. For the depths of healing and understanding, for the incredible mystery of existence, for the mystical dimensions of the universe, of the divine, the sacred, and the absolute mystery of it all.

It made me aware of how incredibly sensitive and vulnerable we are in these spaces and states, and that is something I carry with me every time I sit down next to someone for a session.

It also led me to believe that nearly all problems stem from misunderstanding. When it comes to understanding each other, communication is key and I have come to value communication as a key life skill.

Back to the weeks and months following the trip…
Reflecting on that experience, I thought: how many people could benefit from this experience?

It became my mission to make this experience more accessible. 

I understood that this is the field I want to work in and dedicate my life to.

I wanted to go all in on the movement and help in any way that I could, but I didn’t have a clear direction.

I started where I was. I wanted to work on social stigma, seeing cultural perception as a means of shaping advocacy and civil rights movements, and broadening the field of people who might be interested; so I continued on with the blog, citing research more, using logos and science, the language and religion of our world today.

I also wanted to work on being able to offer safe and conducive places for people to have them. The drug laws might take decades to change. That wasn’t good enough. But where to begin?

I needed more experience, more knowledge, and I needed to really engage with the global psychedelic community.

Accordingly, I took the next steps…

universe cosmos colours beautiful

Psychedelics and meditation have both had a strong influence on my life and are somehow inextricably intertwined. I first got interested in meditation in the aftermath of primary experiences with LSD, and now meditation, in some way or another, informs every psychedelic session I take.

There is dispute in the Buddhist community about the value of psychedelics ‘on the path’ and if you’re interested in the intersection of Buddhism and psychedelics, I highly recommend the book Zig Zag Zen. There are plenty of other articles on this topic, but today I’m just gonna share a bit of my story and how these two things have weaved their way into my life.

Discovering LSD

lsd acid tabs psychedelic

I first tried LSD as a curious guy keen for new experiences. As someone who enjoyed being creative, I was especially interested in new ways of thinking. I also wanted to have fun. I had little idea what I was in for when I put that little piece of paper in my mouth, but looking back, I now see those first experiences as pivotal in my life. Though they’ve affected me in many ways, one that stands out is how they lead me to meditation. At the time I had never tried meditating, nor had any real idea what it was, but if I had never tried LSD, I honestly doubt I’d have started meditating.

How Psychedelic Experience Lead Me To Meditation

On the tail end of my first LSD trips, I didn’t have any ‘comedown’. The post-trip chapter I experienced would more accurately be described as a serene, contemplative afterglow. After the ecstasy and madness of the peak, I descended to a more peaceful state which was in its own way, my favourite part of the whole experience. Though at the time I didn’t have any clear idea of what ‘meditation’ meant, I described the afterglow state to friends as meditative; my mind was sharp and clear and I was deeply reflective. I also noticed that my breathing naturally became long and slow. This tuning into the flow of my breath was a naturally induced meditation session.

When my friends and I didn’t naively first time candy flip on a Sunday and have to go to work the next day without getting a wink of sleep (see: my first time on acid – I started a new job that Monday – another story, another time), an ideal recovery day would be spent chilling with my fellow travellers. We’d order pizza, smoke joints and get comfortable on the sofas for a run of movies. After a long session, we were always physically exhausted, yet my mind was always energised. With this mental energy I’d wander philosophically through themes and ideas that came up in the films, conversation, music or anything else. As we watched movies I’d interpret them in all kinds of novel ways, see metaphors the writers and directors had put in, and understand concepts that I hadn’t considered before. I’d make notes in my journal about interesting ideas that came to mind and, of course, just generally enjoy hanging out. Relaxed but attentive, naturally contemplative, it was a taster for meditation.

lsd acid psychedelic trippy meaning

In the wake of these experiences, my mind was clearer. I had a greater awareness and detachment of my thoughts. I felt wiser. I was looking at things from a greater perspective more often and more naturally, like that mental trick you do when something bad happens and you ask yourself “how much will this matter in 5, 10 or 20 years?”, or you zoom out on google maps to try and coerce the overview effect. I was thinking more creatively and seeing metaphors in almost everything, and my behaviour became less guided by fear and petty concerns. The effect was sudden and obvious, and lasted some months before beginning to fade and older mental habits and ways of being began to return.

I missed my newly found but now fading clarity and wisdom, but I’d experienced another way of being that I wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Following a wikipedia trail, I was lead from psychedelic drugs to non-ordinary forms of consciousness to meditation; a method of changing awareness, without substances. Though my access to psychedelic substances was gone, my newly whetted appetite for discovery remained, and I moved to Asia with a job teaching English.

London England Shanghai Pudong

From the UK to China

In my new home city of Shanghai, I started going to classes on meditation and reading books on the topic. Reading books about Buddhism felt like I was reading books about psychedelic experience, and in retrospect, they were some kind of integration texts. I began a daily meditation practice, and soon after went on my first silent retreat in 2012.

temple stay meditation korea

Temple stay in Korea

In the 6 years that have passed since, meditation practice has become a key foundation in my life. I’ve been back on other retreats and temple stays, was part of a Zen sangha in the tradition of Thich Nhat Hanh in Spain, and last year started a weekly meditation group in Berlin. Meditation is what a friend of mine would call a fundamental – others include exercise, diet, community and creative projects – and mindfulness is a skill I find applicable in so many situations of life. 

Like many others, my practice started with psychedelics. And while my first psychedelic journeys lead me to meditation, meditation has boomeranged back around and played its role in my psychedelic sessions. Today I’ll share one example.

How Meditation Helped On A Deep Journey

On a grey Saturday a couple years ago, alone in a friend’s house whilst he was away for the weekend, I took 250 micrograms of LSD. In the months before, I’d been reading various psychedelic-therapeutic protocols and had prepared accordingly for the session. I managed the anxiety of a turbulent come up by relaxing myself many times as I noticed myself getting anxious and tightening up, and directing my attention to my breathing. Around an hour in, as the lysergic waves really began to come on strong, I was lying down, looking up at the ceiling.

In one moment, a monster appeared above me. It was hovering over me, looking down at me from the ceiling. I was looking directly at its face, and it was looking right back at me, right into my eyes.

monster beast

I was instinctively gripped by fear. My shoulders and rest of my body tightened up instantly as I stared in shock. The beast was of course not physically there, it was a manifestation of my fears, a representation of what scares me and had been avoided.

I held the monster’s gaze, took a deep breath in, and with a long exhale, relaxed my body, letting tension go. As I did this, the monster dissolved into harmless patterns right before my eyes. The visual information was in fact the same – the rich ceiling patterns that made up the monsters face were still there – but they no longer appeared scary or even as a being to me. What changed wasn’t the sensory information I was receiving, it was my perception of it. What made up the ‘monster’ was still there, I just saw it differently. I had a new perspective.

There were a few other moments leading up to this confrontation where I noticed myself getting anxious and tightening up, and I consciously relaxed my body. I see these as like smaller hurdles that once passed, allowed me to get to the point of this confrontation. The dissolution was like a jumping off point, and after this I dropped deep into ineffable experience.

universe cosmos colours beautiful

The journey was deep and had many chapters: there were visions of a past life, alternate realities, and repressed emotions burst up and were released though uncontrollable bouts of sobbing. In the most profound chapter, it was a transpersonal experience; ‘I’ disappeared, along with time, and experience just happened.

I’ll share this story in more detail another time but for now I think its enough to say it was a significant experience that shifted something deep inside of me. The next day I felt lighter and clearer. I had more understanding and compassion. And my meditation practice was revived with a spark. I hadn’t been this affected since those very first journeys – the ones that spurred me on to meditation. I didn’t become a holy and all-understanding being overnight, but I inched in that direction. 

Reflecting on the session afterwards, I saw how techniques that I’d learnt in meditation helped me to relax, to let my guard down and open to the experience with lessened resistance. And this is why I recommend meditation to anyone considering a first psychedelic experience. Including you.

Thanks for reading.

white light christopher burns

This is a guest post from my friend Patrick Dengler about his recent experience smoking 5-MeO-DMT (also known as bufo, toad, or 5). Thanks to Patrick for sharing his experience here.

September 13th, 2018

Four days ago I had my second journey with Bufo Alvarius / 5-MeO-DMT. Like the first time, it was incredibly profound and there are no words to adequately describe what I experienced. But, I’ll try anyway..

bufo alvarius 5 meo dmt toad five

Preparation

This happened on a weekend retreat with a group of around 20 others. As part of the retreat, there were many activities that were supposed to prepare us for the experience. There were yoga classes, energy work, a Kambo treatment and excellent vegan food. All of this contributed to me being in an incredibly relaxed state when it was my turn for taking five. In particular, the Kambo experience seemed to have an incredibly grounding effect on me. I probably was more relaxed than when I smoked weed for the first time. This is undeniably the best possible scenario to be in when doing the strongest psychedelic substance on earth.

map europe continent retreat

The retreat took place in mainland Europe

So, on Sunday afternoon I met with the practitioner and an assistant in a nice spot outside the house. After a short round of breathing exercises, I inhaled the vapor of the toad secretion and even before completely finishing the pipe the medicine started to kick in strongly.

The Experience

My perception and sense of self began to dissolve. It seemed that I merged with my surroundings until there was nothing left of “me”. There was no fighting or struggling with what was happening. I remember on my first encounter with this medicine, at this point an incredible amount energy surged through my body and briefly I got somewhat panicky. This time it was more gentle – more like a soft melting together of everything that I thought of as me and the world, inside and outside, self and other (I initially had my eyes open). The last memory I have of that stage is that everything was shining with an ever increasing white light until I was completely gone.

white light christopher burns

I don’t really have tangible memories of that stage, but what was very clear was that it was an experience of utter peace. Maybe it could be described as a state of pure consciousness without contents. The words “emptiness” and “void” come to mind, but the fact that I remember the feeling of peace suggests that some part of me-ness was still there. I can’t really say much more about this part. I think it maybe lasted for about 10 minutes, during which I was calmly laying on my back (reconstructed from the observations of others).

My True Nature

This is where it gets really interesting. At this point some form of identity and mind came back online, and at the same time a huge download of information hit me, maybe not huge but more like all encompassing. It felt like direct access to ultimate truth. This lead to the recognition, or rather, the remembering, of my true nature. What I thought I kinda understood after sitting meditation retreats and reading books about non duality was experienced directly now: I am not my body or my mind or some fragment of reality, I am the totality of it all. It’s all me. There exists nothing else beside me: pure Being, the Self, Brahman, God. If you haven’t experienced this, it sounds silly. If you have, it changes everything. For a brief moment I was struggling to accept this (“Wow, there is only God, that means it’s me, but … wow, does that mean, uh.. whoa!”), but eventually I did and it was like something snapped.

Embodiment of this understanding: This moment was an experience of endless joy, absolute satisfaction and pure perfection. It was like I was in a big arena and there was cheering from all directions. Later I was told that I repeatedly shouted “Yes! YES! YES! YEEEES…”. It felt like the most complex math equation in existence was finally solved and the result was the simplest thing one could imagine: 1. Everything made sense now. It felt like my heart exploded into a feeling of almost unbearable love (for myself) and joy (of being). It was very clear that this is IT. This is what it’s all about. This is the highest truth. There were no doubts about this. It was self evident, as obvious as the fact that it hurts when you pinch your arm. It’s so simple. Just accept yourself as what you truly are, and you become one with it. That’s all that’s needed, saying YES to life, to God, to yourself. I was sure that this state was permanent, and that I would never come back into dualistic reality again. I was home now, and I had no plans to leave.

clouds trippy

At some point I regained the feeling of my body. I heard birds chirping and felt the warmth of the sun on my skin. I opened my eyes and saw the sky and the people guiding me through the experience. This didn’t feel like coming back from a trip into reality but more like the exact opposite: I was entering this virtual reality again, the reality I’ve chosen to be part of. My ego instantly started to do its thing: Thoughts like “Wow, I must have been going through something very special here!”, “I hope I didn’t do anything embarrassing!”, “I should do something now, shouldn’t I?”. The joy I’d felt was still with me though. The simplicity and perfection of it was still tangibly close. I felt I could leave this dream world anytime I wished. But at the same time I noticed feelings of lack, struggle, doubts and desires coming back. Right! The suffering! I totally forgot about that.

Reentry Of Ego

Over the next few minutes I watched my ego reassemble part by part. This happened so quickly and spontaneously that it was a little shocking to witness. It felt almost mechanical. Like a software that is being reinstalled on an operating system. Within 15 minutes or so “I” felt almost completely “normal” again and was on my way to get lunch in the kitchen. Only later did I find some time for myself to contemplate the experience.

tree sun

A few days later what has happened is still very much with me. The most important insight for me right now is what I felt during this enlightening phase: that pure perfection, infinite love and joy is already our true nature. It’s right here, right now, only veiled by illusion.

For some reason this moment just before I was ready to accept this and say YES to it comes back again and again. Every night since it happened I wake up (usually around 3 in the morning) and it seems I’m in this position again where I can freely choose to identify with my true being. Sometimes I’m in there for a few (timeless) seconds, most of the time though I feel a strong fear and resistance and chicken out. But in any case I’m filled with a deep feeling of contentment afterwards because I remember what I experienced and know that in the end there is nothing to worry about.

I can’t put into words the gratitude I feel for having experienced this.

psychedelic art visionary dmt

Art by Krystleyez

“I searched for God and found only myself.
I searched for myself and found only God.”
– Rumi