There was some muted conversation at the shop where our group met up as the women tentatively felt each other out. We met our retreat facilitators (two were there to meet us, two more were already at the retreat getting ready for our arrival), who told us the plan for catching our taxi back at Centraal Station’s kiss and ride (love that name).

Our facilitators already had a relationship with the shop. We individually went up and told the woman at the counter we were with the group, she gave us the right type and amount of mushrooms, and we bought our truffles.

I had been so focused on getting to Amsterdam, on getting to that shop on the right day at the right time, that I’d spent little time studying the retreat schedule beyond our meet-up. This ended up being a gift – it kept me in the present and didn’t allow me to worry too much about what would happen next.

The next phase of my trip was going to be a psychedelic trip, packaged in a retreat setting surrounded by practices and activities designed to help each of us get the most out of the experience.

My hopes feel too big to include them all here, but like I mentioned, I wanted relief from depression and anxiety, to have a Divine Encounter, and get free from my stuck-ness. Also, and this almost felt too much to ask for, I really hoped for ego dissolution, which happens sometimes on a psychedelic trip, but not always.

The ride to the retreat grounds was quiet. I chatted with one of the other ladies, but felt really protective of myself – I know how draining small talk is for me and didn’t want to use up all my emotional bandwidth on the first day.

Starting that night, we began to get to know each other, sharing a delicious meal together and doing some get-to- know-you activities that lacked the cheesy feeling such activities often take on (I found out later that the technique we used is called Authentic Relating). I’m not one to let people in easily, and the exercises really pushed me to my limit, but also created a feeling of instant intimacy with the other women. I slept like a rock that night. It was the only good night’s sleep I would get while I was away.

You’ll find this post is light on photos – we were asked not to take photos inside the common areas or of the other people at the retreat to protect the identities of the participants. There is a heavy stigma to psychedelic use, and many people had not advertised why they were going on the retreat. I know I didn’t.

The next morning began with a light breakfast and some bodyworks and meditative practices. Our trip was to happen that afternoon. I had time to walk the grounds, which were spacious and had a number of winding trails. I took walks each morning and there was still a trail I hadn’t tried the day we left.Before the trip itself, there was an outdoor ceremony that was a kind of blessing for each of the participants and our truffles. Each person got their brain vibrated with tuning forks, and we were anointed with burning sage, I think to clear our energy.

We were joined in a circle around a little oak tree (center right in the photo above). With our arms around each other, we had an opportunity to vocalize, a way of joining together and letting go of our negativity. My description may make it sound hokey (I know, I know, hokier than tuning forks? But if you keep an open mind, that’s how the magic happens).

I knew as our voices rose in the cool air, if I didn’t let go of all the pain and grief that was inside of me then, that it would characterize my entire trip. So when we were told we had one more vocalization, one more wail, I let all of that darkness out, even though I was so close to the other women and felt the circle was too small to hold it all. I’m so glad I did. I felt like I left all my sorrow there, with the other women as witnesses. When we headed inside the main cabin to have our truffles, I had made space for all the bliss and beauty that awaited me.

Inside the main cabin’s gathering space, beds had been set up for each of us. I brought my own eye mask, which I was glad for (it was soft, thin, and fit perfectly, unlike the bulkier, adjustable-strap ones that were provided). I’d brought a couple of other comfort items – some hankies (I knew there would be tears), some art supplies (this had been suggested to us), a couple of little tokens (a wooden rosary bracelet from one sister-in-law, a zipper pouch from another, these were meant to be “anchoring” objects when it felt like we were spinning out, and it was my way of bringing my family with me), my phone and earbuds in case I had an opportunity or desire to listen to my own music, and my journal.

In the informational email we got ahead of time, it was suggested that we bring a special outfit that day. What I brought ended up not feeling right that morning and I changed it around at the last minute, and am so glad I followed my gut. Part of what changed my mind about what I’d chosen was that once we were at the retreat, we’d been told we’d probably feel both hot and cold at different points during the trip. My original outfit was pretty and comfortable, but it didn’t have any layers I could take off if I got hot. (The dress I brought for the ceremony was the only thing I didn’t end up wearing while I was there – I wouldn’t have changed anything else about how I packed.) I ultimately chose something more flexible so I wouldn’t end up in something weird or awkward if I had to take off a few layers. I ended up in an outfit that looked nice, but also (more importantly) was perfect for fluctuating internal temperatures.

I didn’t know until I arrived at the retreat that they would be providing music for the trip. We listened to a mostly instrumental soundtrack that was specifically for use with psychedelics, put together by a UK neuroscientist. It’s designed to bring you through the full range of emotions during your trip.

Wearing our eye masks, blindfolded and cocooned in down comforters, we had little personal caves that allowed us to be aware of the other people in our space, but also to have a safe space that just belonged to each one of us.

The ceremony began late, and as time stretched out and we still hadn’t started, my anxiety was growing. I reached out to the Chaplain via text, and he sent a voice memo that arrived moments before we were to start, and it was a comfort to me.

The plan was to ingest the truffles in a ginger tea. I knew this would be bad. I hate tea. I hate ginger. But I didn’t speak up, and ended up gagging down one cup of it. Things started to get a little Alice in Wonderland after that. I experienced a lot of fear – and felt comfort in the words that came to mind during that time – specific scriptural assurances that addressed what I was afraid of.

Because of the nature of a trip, time and space get a little wonky, so it’s hard to know how long I struggled, but I was aware that most of the other participants seemed to be quietly caught up in their own worlds, while I remained on the surface of reality, struggling to let myself sink under. Two of the four facilitators at the retreat approached me separately during that time to check on me, and both offered more truffles if I felt I needed it.

Both times, I said yes, but instead of trying to drink more tea, I spooned the truffles, which tasted like dirt, out of the plastic bag they came in, and washed it down with cold water. When I think back on this – the tea, and topping off with the dry mushrooms twice, I think if I’d asked for what I knew I needed at the beginning, it would have saved me a lot of nausea and probably have sent me under faster. But I also may not have gotten as much in my system as I needed to have the experience I did… and I may not have had as much time to deal with my fear and anxiety.

As it was, it felt like there was a lot of time to really face my fears during the early part of the trip – specifically about what the experience would be like and my fear of it failing to live up to my hopes. Many times during the early part of the trip, I was afraid I would be sick and that I’d never be able to ingest enough of the mushrooms to have any effect. The women who facilitated the retreat were tremendously responsive and would often come and put a hand on my arm or my chest to reassure me or make sure I was OK.

Ultimately, I did get the ego dissolution I was hoping for – after that initial period of fear and struggle, the rest of the trip was beyond time and space, characterized by bliss. I felt like I had time to deal with every single issue I had come with, including some I hadn’t intended to deal with. I had the Divine encounter I was looking for.

Remember that huge knot in my neck? The moment my ego fully dissolved, it disappeared, and it didn’t come back, even though I had my huge backpack on my back just as much at the end of the trip as I did at the beginning. This made me aware how much stuck stress was manifesting physically in my body and has changed my relationship to pain.

I didn’t end up using any of the items I brought besides the eye mask, with the exception of my notebook, where I jotted down a few notes in progressively messier handwriting at the beginning of the trip. My anchor ended up being my wedding ring. It felt like the Chaplain was with me for much of the trip, and it was a conscious decision on my part to keep him near me. The experience felt too intimate to have without him there. Touching the ring or spinning it on my finger kept me grounded.

I wasn’t sure what to expect with the visual hallucinations – I’m a very visual person, but I found the beginning of the trip was very dark and wonky for me. I didn’t realize how different everything had looked on the trip until I had returned from it. Certain things (like water and my glasses) had a prismatic appearance, and some things looked like they were moving when I knew they weren’t. I saw colors differently – a yellow, white, and green handkerchief I had with me was purple, grey, and teal during the trip. One of the facilitators’ faces had exaggerated features (an enlarged head and doe eyes) and her head was floating Cheshire Cat-style. Later, her face appeared as a black and white Day of the Dead mask, but it was never scary. Those are both pretty typical hallucinations.

The deep part of the trip, while it was characterized by beautiful colors, spirals, and intricate designs, was mainly about the music for me. Once my ego dissolved I had a sense of being out of my body. I was soaring with the melody as I became the music.

While I had take more truffles as a booster, the tea drinkers in the group had gone under before I had. I was still in outer space while most of the other participants were coming in for a landing. I had a sense that while my lift off had been bumpy, the landing would be soft and I wasn’t being forced to leave the incredible space I’d been granted access to. I also found myself mildly annoyed by the low chatter around the room. At this point, I pulled out my phone so I could listen to my own music. As the voices got louder and people started to sit up and talk to one another about their trips, I put in my earbuds, turned up my personal playlist, and got lost in the music.

As the last song played (the playlist was about 30 minutes long – I had fine-tuned just minutes before going in for the tea ceremony), I added a couple more songs, then slowly re-engaged with the group.

The photo above is of my accommodations. I shared a room with three other women (we didn’t get on each other’s nerves as I feared we might, and I treasure the friendships I made). My bed (a mattress on the floor with a lovely duvet) was in a cabin, in an open loft at the top of a vertical ladder-like set of stairs. 

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Curious about my playlist? (You can listen to clips of the songs below, or click through to hear to the whole thing in the Spotify App)

After the trip, I added three more songs to the list (the last ones on the playlist). They spoke to what I learned.