Ayahuasca, Microdosing and Me

Microdosing ayahuasca was a desperate attempt to overcome the depression and loneliness that had enshrouded me since childhood. I had used psychedelics before, which opened up the world of spirituality to me, but the crushing depression and feelings of worthlessness always returned. I didn’t expect microdosing to work for me, but I decided to try it and see what happened. Over the next few months, “microdosing” became “minidosing”–I would take just enough of my homemade brew to feel the effects, sometimes a little more, but always a small enough dose so that I could leave for work by 8am.

Gradually, subtly, my attitude towards life started changing–as well as my attitude towards myself. Maybe it was that one summer morning, with Bach’s Second Brandenburg Concerto playing on the radio, when I realized it.

The ayahuasca had past the peak, but I still felt this connection to what I had begun to think of as “divine energy.” As the perfect harmonies of Bach surrounded me, I felt good–not just good, but exalted and transported. This moment, I realized, this moment in my body and mind, is purely mine. No one else will ever experience this moment–they all have their own moments, in their own bodies and minds. But this moment–and all the other moments of my life–were mine, and I was responsible for how I used them. I can sit here hating my life, feeling sorry for myself, or I can enjoy the pleasure of existing, of being alive and connected to the universe.

Just as the instruments playing the concerto harmonized with precision and grace, I was beginning to harmonize with the people and the world around me, after so many years of isolation. I felt I had received some secret knowledge–that life is magical, mysterious and wonderful. That judging myself for my social awkwardness was just cruel and unhelpful, and that I didn’t need to do that anymore. And that nothing was really wrong with me. I can simply accept and love who I am.

Before my minidosing experiment, I had seen myself as a tragicomic character, decadent, broken, a failure. The best I could hope for was to find a conditional sort of happiness, having a little pleasure here or there, but not respecting myself or expecting anyone else to. But those mornings before the day began, listening to music, connected to the divine energy, changed everything.

I still have problems to solve, particularly insomnia. But thanks to the spirit-goddess of aya, I touched a deep source of forgotten love and emotion, and I learned that being autistic is not a curse. If I don’t fit easily into the grand social drama of life the way others do, that’s a blessing–because no matter where I am or what the situation is, as long as I can touch that divine love within, I will be fine, sporting a playful smile, looking forward to what comes next.


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