It’s not long after, that I am suddenly walking behind you in the forest. We set up our pillow fort and have our little talk. I tell you that this is the moment that I want to introduce you to changa – to DMT. We go on a few light ventures, and your world blows wide open as you realise that you are not crazy after all. All these beautiful little ideas of yours come from this dense place of infinite illusions. I’m looking at you as you flash at the speed of several avatars a second. You are made of pure, bittersweet magic and illusion. We find ourselves back on the ground and I see you behind your eyes for the first time. I’ve been looking for you for so long! Words can’t describe the confluence of joy and sadness I experience as you look back at me from the depths of your inner innocence.
The mist has faded and the sunrise is well in motion as we make our way back on the playa. We stumble over a fun little LSD workshop, and you put another four drops into my mouth. We go find him; your friend, now my friend. For an hour him and I talk about our conflict. The most consistent God that I’ve been able to praise in this life, is truth. I offer up what’s alive in me freely and compassionately, and I am always, without fail, rewarded for my bravery. We get on a really good vibe as I take ownership of my own actions and allow the full measure of my pain to come to the surface. It’s truly awful and wonderful, because these next few hours that the three of us spend together were the most safe and at home I felt the entire week. You stayed behind with me on the hill and did your best to comfort me as I again fell apart in front of you in a dark little room in the temple. You left me and went back to your camp and I am again abandoned. For a brief hour I wander the forest and I come back on top of the hill to look for you. I see you in the distance, the two of you, him sitting behind you. Getting closer and closer. I’m not allowed there with you. I’ve seen this whole process through with a perfection resonating on all levels, and here I am, ripped to pieces. I saunter back into the carnival and find the drums in front of me. I am brought back to the memory of last night’s ceremony as I start to slap them through my teary eyes. I alternate between hitting the drums in futility and falling deep into anguish. I am losing it. I am losing myself. My tears and wails and whimpers take me over as I feel hands on my feet and shoulders. Caring hands putting water to my lips, but their faces cannot hold space for me, so I drift back to the playa.
I can feel that I am just a hair’s breadth away from falling endlessly. I consider the potential of wandering deep into the forest, where I’ll scream and cry so much that at some point I finally won’t be able to tell the difference between my cries and laughter, my joy and my despair. But there he is, the giddy Swede. I run up to him and I say, “Wow!” “Ah, wow!” He says back to me. I ask if he has space for me. He hugs me and holds me tight and listens as I sob through my story. I land a little bit in his arms as he cries with me. “It’s so sad”, he says. It’s just so sad. There’s a yoga class happening in front of us, so I drag a mat on stage and join. On my elevated surface I follow my breath with curiosity deep into my body. In front of everyone I repeatedly lose track of what’s happening as I shake and heave and tremble as tears flow out of my eyes. My heart has been cut open and all the pain stored inside is streaming out. Afterwards, the teacher sits with me for a brief eternity. I try to take care of her, but she wilfully gives me her full unconditional attention. She has these beaming eyes that speak unequivocally: I am here and I love you. They fill with tears as I tell her my story. I can feel how she has breathed consciousness into her entire body as she clutches me tight to her chest. Oh dear lord, have mercy on me.
I find my friends by the lake and with them find both my feet and my joy. Back at camp, I make us dinner and blast a vibe on the speakers, with some pockets of crying in-between. I find myself shaking my hands all the time, unloading the excess energy. Eventually nightfall approaches and we head to the big burn. At least a thousand of us are gathered as we set fire to the enormous pyre of wood. Massive amounts of energy is pouring out of me and into the fire. Hundreds of naked bodies start running around the scorching flames. I leave all my clothes behind and join them all. Running and running and running, screaming and chanting. The flames are so intense that all the naked bodies turn to a blur.
My friends and I are at the spa by the lake. The energy I had dissipates and I can barely put one foot in front of the other, but as all hope is about to be lost, there’s she is: an angel! She found me and dominated me on the dance floor last year. She takes off my shoes, sits with me and gives me a foot bath, dries my feet with great care, and with love sends me off into the night. On my way back to camp I stumble into a gong-bath. I am greeted and I lay down. The host puts a few fingers on my breastbone and with force pins me down on the ground. Repeat after me, he says. “I am safe.” “I am home.” “I am whole.” It becomes my mantra as I start convulsing in tremendous grief. Tears split from my eyes as I spasm sporadically. “I love myself.” “Feel how good it feels to say it.” I feel the warmth emanating out from my chest as I repeat his words over and over. Suddenly my chest shoots up from the ground and I feel my heart breaking open. He leaves me as I lay there spasming under a blanket, eventually falling into a deep slumber.
The next morning we pick you up at your camp and start putting distance between this incredible world that we had built together, and back into civilisation and life as we know it. I am completely dysregulated as I am walking up and down the hill awaiting your presence. I feel like a hurt and betrayed animal as you plop into the seat next to me. You try to caress me, but I won’t respond or look at you. My whole body is tense and I can’t tell if I want to run, scream, fall into your lap, or push you out the window.
The unbearable lightness of your being took some getting used to. Eventually I softened into your lap, and in the midst of all my injustice and suffering, I allowed your love to hold me all the way home. We went to bed at different times and when you awoke you went to stay with him for two days. It was a tough transition in which I had to hold myself. You are not home, you’re with him, and I have no idea when you’ll return. It’s at times like these that my rejection sensitivity dysphoria and abandonment wounds kick into high-gear. I’m flooded by thoughts of you having fun together, touching each other, smiling at each other, caressing and dancing. It pulls these tears out from the depths of my being. I can’t quite figure them out. The feeling I get when I shudder and those tears start to flow, is that I am unworthy and will always be alone. Inadequate and unlovable. Life will always be too effortful and straining for me. I am too sensitive. I am too much and I can feel so intimately each and every memory of people turning their feet, gaze, and attention away from me. I breathe into my heart, and I relax and release. I’ve been down this road before and I don’t need to go through unnecessary suffering this time around.
You were up early and got into bed at some late hour. I awoke, took a drop of LSD, and went for a long walk by the lakes. By the time I came home I was more grounded, but I am still shocked to see your face in the living room. My serenity was readily exposed as a distant sadness in your presence, and I started crying within a minute. I am scared that you’ll move on without me and that we won’t be in each other’s lives anymore, and that time will do violence to our love. I just love being loved by you, and I miss you so much. My body yearns with such an intensity for the closeness of your body. To see myself reflected in your burning, innocent eyes. Now it is simply you that I see. I don’t want to spend the rest of our time together in sadness, I say. I want us to be happy and to laugh and to leave each other and look back in glee and gratitude. By now in this writing moment, the emotion has moved through me and I’m not able to capture how beautifully we touched ground again. We spent a few hours cleaning up together and moving about each other, talking, kissing, and holding. It is said that some things can only be healed in relationship, and this time that we got to spend together was so powerfully freeing. We got to be together in the wake of the storm that had passed through us, and we got to experience that our love was lighter and that the constraints on our togetherness had lifted. We are not good for each other; we should not be primary partners or perhaps even partners, but we have offered up so much of our truth to each other that our lives are forever intertwined. We have grown apart, together. And that, too, is so tenderly beautiful.