After the trip, I felt like a different person. I experienced total relief from the stuck feeling, social anxiety, generalized anxiety, and had a feeling of inner worth and peace that went to my core. The difference was immediately noticeable to the others in the group.
As the rest of the retreat went on, and we had opportunities to share our experiences with one another and continue to practice meditation, mindfulness, and other activities to help us remain present. I found that I could sit still without restlessness. I could meditate with a clear head. I could fearlessly make eye contact when I chose to. This is a big one for me – I used to fear that if I allowed someone access to that window into my soul, they would see something ugly or unloveable.
In the information we received ahead of time, we’d been asked to bring something – art or music – that we could share with the group.
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.
That first night, I curled up with my book. It kept me company into the wee hours of the night. I was only able to sleep for a couple of hours between 4 a.m. and 6 a.m., then was awake for the day.
In the foggy, quiet morning, I felt like I had the city to myself. The smell of weed, which gets stronger as the day goes on, had cleared from the air. My hotel provided breakfast, and it was one of the most amazing breakfasts I’ve ever had – a hard boiled egg in a special little egg cup, yogurt, granola with milk, a clementine, and a little glass of chocolate milk. I ate quietly, checked out of my room, and was able to leave my bags behind so I could explore the city without them.
Remember that section of Craigslist? Where you can… I don’t know, supposedly find someone who you felt connection to but never actually exchanged numbers with? I remember one night I idly scrolled through the posts, fascinated by the display of humanity.
It reminded me of my coming of age years before cell phones when things like that really happened. You could meet a friend or a crush, and then never have a way to find them again.
I was reminded of it again because of my oldest. Last year, his Spanish teacher was a dear Jamaican granny of a woman whose room was full of empowering posters. She clearly had a passion for teaching and the best interests of her students at heart. Then she abruptly left that November.
I left on a chilly, bleak Tuesday afternoon. My family drove me to the train station, and I got on the train and sat, disbelieving, as it headed south towards New York. I read, dozed a little, and tested the new data plan the Chaplain had set up for me that would work on both sides of the Atlantic.
I arrived in the New York after six. I wasn’t in a rush and had time to come above ground at Penn Station and wander a few blocks in a few different directions. I hadn’t been to that part of New York at night in ages. The huge LCD billboards were new to me. There was a man playing pop on a saxophone, the sound soulfully bouncing off the buildings. I dipped into a tiny pizza place and bought a slice, then stopped in another place for a fruit smoothie.
From Penn Station, a train to Jamaica would connect me to the Airtrain to JFK. The process was super easy and I made it to the check-in line at the airport in plenty of time, which is good, because check-in was long and disorganized. That was my first preview of what to expect from my budget airline, and it was a trend that would continue with abysmal and insanely expensive food on the flight.
Usually, flying for me involves a great deal of anxiety. I love travel, but flying is a means to an end. I don’t like the feeling of being trapped on a plane, and I dread the thought of using the airplane lavatory. I usually prepare for a flight with dramamine, and I’d brought my CBD oil. I did take the dramamine, but didn’t need anything else, and didn’t find the flight to be stressful. As it turns out, when you aren’t responsible for anyone besides yourself, a flight is surprisingly uneventful.
