Psychedelics and the Hero’s Journey
I am watching a single drop of water.
Lights bounce and dance off of dark corners while the musicians onstage pour their heart into their strings, their keys, their drums. The crowd moves as one, sinuous and fluid-like, to the beat of the music pouring from the speakers. I am standing too close to the speakers, as usual, pressed up against the raised platform that forms the stage, my spirit moving in time, a cell in rhythm with its whole, an organism formed of many twisting limbs like some ancient goddess embodied. But I am not listening to the music.
I am watching a single drop of water.
A row of water bottles lines the stage, a convenient place to set a drink down where it won’t be disturbed. Someone has spilled one and a droplet sits on the edge of the stage, a bead of moisture encapsulating a raised bump of black paint. It, too, is caught up in the movement of the music — the bass from the speaker is thumping so loud that the droplet vibrates along. I am fascinated, mind bent from both LSD and MDMA, and that dancing drop of water is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. There is no separation, it tells me. All is connected, even down to the smallest droplet of water, all of us wiggling along in to the music that is life.
My soul opens up, not for the first or the last time. I’ve always been a very…
