Decisions & Intuition

A lot of the spiritual and mindful videos and podcasts that I listen to talk about doing what feels right in the moment or doing what will make you happy. I always catch myself waiting for them to explain to me how I will know what that is. Of course, they never do. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be self evident or if it’s just something that no one else can teach you. People always discuss intuition like it’s so clear. As if there is one particular thing you know you want, but you’ve been denying yourself. It’s never seemed that simple for me.

I’ve always been a very analytical and indecisive person. It’s hard enough for me to pick something to eat at a restaurant, let alone what path to take with my life, or what to do each day to best serve that path. I’ve never quite understood what people mean when they talk about intuition or just knowing they have to do something. I even remember learning in one of my psychology classes that most people feel more confident about a decision once they’ve made it. However, people predisposed to depression and anxiety don’t feel this same self assurance after making a decision. Instead they continue to doubt and question themselves. I would definitely count myself among the latter group.

I’ve been trying to listen for that voice of intuition in my head, but there are just too many contradictory voices. I’ve never known who to listen to. One voice may say: It’s a beautiful morning, let’s go for a walk. Then that voice is immediately shouted down by other voices saying: There isn’t time. The dog is going to make it too stressful anyway. You need to eat breakfast. You forgot to buy bug spray. Which voice is the one looking out for me? Which voice is guiding me towards what will make me happy? Some people may choose to just take the walk anyway and then feel confident it was exactly what they needed. However, for me, I’d just continue to wonder if I made the right choice and waste the walk ruminating anyway, over analyzing and second guessing myself. I guess that’s why I gravitate toward finding a routine and sticking to it no matter what my inner voices are saying.

Still I long to find fluidity and flow in my days. I don’t want every day to be exactly the same. I don’t want to remain stagnant and never experience anything new or novel. I want to be able to give my body and mind what it needs to flourish in each moment, not try to cram myself into the same box every day. My soul often cries out for more, but I feel I need an interpreter to decipher exactly what that “more” is.

Yesterday, I was weeding my garden and listening to an audiobook called, Siddhartha. At one point in the book, Siddhartha realizes that he has been seeking knowledge of himself from others. However, he is the only teacher he needs if he wants to learn about himself. Although this seems rather obvious, it struck me as profound in that moment. Perhaps my problem is that I keep waiting for someone else to teach me how to listen to my own intuition, for someone to teach me how to make the “right” decisions. I suppose I’m really the only one who can teach myself how to do these things.

The first hurdle I must overcome in this classroom of life is agonizing over making the “right” decision. There is no right decision. No matter what decision I make, it will teach me a valuable lesson about myself. The only way I’m going to find out which of these voices inside my head truly reflects my heart’s wishes is by listening to them. It’s time for me to start studying myself as an impartial observer. I’ll make decisions and let go of worrying about whether or not they are the “right” ones. I will never be able to know that. What I can observe, though, is how different decisions make me feel. Hopefully by being mindful of this trial and error process, someday I will be able to truly connect with that evasive intuition.

For now, I am just going to keep reminding myself that it’s okay to not know. I don’t need to always have the answer. It’s okay to trip and fall along the way. It’s okay to make the “wrong” decision. It’s okay to feel disconnected from myself, from my body and my spirit. I forgive myself for all of it. I’m learning how to rebuild that connection. With so much external stimulation bombarding us at every moment, it’s no surprise that I have a hard time sifting through the noise and hearing my true self clearly. There is no shame in that. I often get so frustrated by not knowing that I forget how much I love learning. How sad it would be to know everything. I am so grateful for the complexity of this world and of myself. Whatever you choose to focus on there is always more to learn. It’s time I got excited to learn about me, to tap into my inner wisdom and honor how unique and intriguing I really am.

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LSD & Introspection

This morning I am feeling soft and calm. Last night I had a lovely LSD trip with my boyfriend. It was his first time, and I was honored to be there with him for it. One of the overwhelming aspects of acid that make it so wonderful for me is the way it allows you to witness your own thought processes without judgment. It was even especially interesting this time given that it had only been a week since the last time I tripped. I’m not sure that I’ve ever had two that close together before. It definitely allowed me to gain even deeper insights I feel.

During both trips, I noticed myself getting caught up in thoughts of the future. What should we do next? What will we do after that? It was almost uncomfortable for me to just allow myself to enjoy the present moment for what it is and not worry so much about what comes after. I had to keep reminding myself that it was okay to just be. I needed constant reassurance from myself. I needed to give myself permission to experience the pleasure right in front of me again and again. I also noticed that when I was in the moment and just doing what came naturally to me, I was at ease. I was happy, excited even. However, the moment I began questioning myself and wondering what the person I was with was thinking/feeling, I began to lose that perfect flow state. Things would then get more difficult, even awkward at times.

Now none of these experiences are unique to acid. The psychedelic part was just my ability to witness this behavior within my own mind in such a neutral way. It’s not that I wasn’t able to notice these tendencies before, it’s just that it’s hard not to harshly judge myself for being this way normally. This viscous self-criticism only exacerbates the anxiety and discomfort that I feel. On acid, I was much more easily able to comfort myself and get back to a better head space. I am able to rest in the fact that none of this really matters. Again and again I find myself coming back to the truth that no matter where I am or what I’m doing, everything is as it should be. Everything is okay. I don’t have to do anything or be anything other than what I am. It’s okay to just observe and enjoy.

That’s ultimately all we can do. Our only true purpose here is to experience this magnificent world of ours. Nothing more, nothing less. We are always putting these false restrictions on ourselves and those around us. We tend to close ourselves off to what is when it doesn’t align with what we expect or hope for. On acid I am always open and eager to see what’s in front of me for what it is. I am upbeat and curious, just exploring. Like I mentioned in my other post, this is one of the ways that I’ve always felt similar to my childhood self while tripping.

When we were children, we were all much more open to accepting things the way they are. Because we are still so young and new to the world, we basically just go with whatever is happening around us. We are joyful, curious, and very genuine with ourselves and others. It is only after we begin to grow older that we begin to expect things and people to be a certain way. Inevitably this causes us unnecessary suffering when life doesn’t unfold the way we thought it would.

For me, LSD is like a refresh button for the brain. Even though the hallucinogenic and psychedelic effects are gone by the next day, there is a lingering sense of wellbeing that stays with me. These experiences are a reminder that all is well. They’re a reminder not to take life so seriously. Everything is unfolding exactly as it’s meant to. I don’t have to worry or try to control it. I am just a passenger watching the scenery. I’m not driving the train, I’m not in charge of the other passengers. I am just here to enjoy and to love. And that’s more than enough.

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Sitting In the Sun

I can only hope to some day find the same satisfaction of a cat lying in sunbeams as they pour through the window. Even my dog, sweet little oddball that she is, loves basking in that warm glow. They always look so peaceful. You can almost see them savoring each delicious moment as they doze on the edge of consciousness. Perfectly peaceful. Precious angels. If only they could tell me their secret to serenity.

The closest I ever came to this simple bliss was one summer evening at the peak of an acid trip. I forget what my companion was doing at the time. They must have been absorbed in something inside that didn’t interest me. I had decided to go outside just as evening was giving way into another luscious, humid summer night. Summer nights are my favorite. I don’t know what it is. Perhaps they remind me of being a kid, watching fireworks on the 4th or catching lightning bugs with my sister and grandma. Or maybe it’s my teen years, sneaking out to meet friends, having midnight swims, trying my first cigarette as the rain drizzled down lazily, drinking by a fire in a friend’s backyard. There was always a certain excitement saturating summer nights, a sense of danger and adventure. Hedonism and recklessness and youth.

As the sun’s warmth still lingered in the soft air, I went out to use my newly set-up trampoline. I’m certain I would have appeared insane if anyone had been around to witness the sight. A young woman in her mid twenties, alone, at night, laughing her head off while jumping on a trampoline. I have no idea how long I was on that thing, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I felt like a kid again, with all the innocence and sheer joy I once knew.

When I finally got tired of that, I got down and sat breathless on my back porch under the stars. I think back to that moment a lot. Ever since I learned about yoga philosophy, I can’t help but think about it when I trip. It’s always funny to me how simple and true it all feels when I’m in that altered state. I see it all so clearly. It feels like I’ll be able to keep that insight and inner peace with me when I wake up the next morning, but of course I never can.

This evening as I sat there alone, I felt more alive and safe than I ever have before or since. I breathed in the thick air of that summer night slowly and deeply. Enjoying every subtlety of this slight movement as the air passed through my nostrils and expanded my abdomen. Feeling this oxygen infusing me with precious life. In that moment I knew everything I needed to know. There was no grasping or worrying or fear. I was truly at peace with myself and the universe. I knew that I was exactly where I needed to be. I knew that I was one with everything around me. That this whole universe was a part of me and I a part of it. I felt the lines of the self blurring into eternity. Anything that I could ever need or want was already a part of me. It was all so beautiful. I could have sat there, utterly content, forever. Everything is as it should be. Never had these words felt so poignant and true.

If nothing else this experience stands as an example of the power of perspective. Nothing has changed since then except my state of mind. Things that felt so simple then have reassumed their complex and elusive nature. That peace that felt ever-present now escapes me. Even the memory can’t compare to the perfect state I was in that night. My brief moment in the sun has now passed. Yet still, the residue of that moment lingers within me.

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