Saturn Return - Part 3: Across the Universes

(Authoress' Note:  

You might consider reading Saturn Return - Parts 1, 2, and even 4, before reading Part 3.)

First, I died.

I heard about other people’s “journeys”.  So I too was sort of expecting to travel across the Universes, through far off galaxies and nebulae, past shooting stars, red giants, white dwarfs and supernovae.  Or to trip the light fantastic on a trippy Lucy-in-the-Skies-with-Diamonds sound and light show of never known before shapes and colors and sounds and sensations. Or to merge with Everything and Everyone that Ever Was and Ever Will Be, coming together in a cosmic orgy of heavenly bodies and souls and energy and essence.  Or to confront my demons, slay my dragons, free myself of my shadow self, to dissociate from and transcend my ego and limiting definition of Who I Think I Am. Or, better yet, all of the above.

Instead, I think I kind of dissolved into Everything and Nothing, and kind of died.  

After taking the sharp and sour “mango” flavored 100 mg lozenge at 10:30am, allowing it to melt, holding its froth in my mouth without swallowing for many minutes, and getting past a wave a nausea, I descended deep into my conscious/unconscious mind, or ascended somewhere deep into outer space (not sure which), into nearly utter darkness.  There was no light, just hints of texture tinted dark purple, indigo and black.  I lost all awareness of my body except a weird heaviness, a collapsing into my elbow creases. When that went away, I had to move my fingers and toes to confirm that I still had any connection to body.  It felt like I left it.  But where did I go?

I remember saying to my minders, “This feels like death.”  Only an awareness of my breath indicated I was in fact still alive. I didn’t think I could move, but didn’t want to, which worked out; there was no need to.  All was well.  Quiet, except for the New Agey music playing and birds chirping in the distance.  Calm.  My usual mental noise and static went silent. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go. Just a sense of being, of consciousness, of dissolving into Everything and Nothing, becoming part of Everything and Nothing.  And it was rather nice.   

“If this is death, it isn’t so bad.” My minders thought this was great, and asked if I wanted to continue and go deeper.  I said I didn’t know (I could barely talk at this point), so they offered me another 100 mg lozenge at about 11:00am, and I took it. When the nausea passed, I collapsed/ascended deeper into the dark abyss of Everything/Nothing.  Still no visuals, but now the dark surrounding canvass was painted with heavy strokes of thick acrylics in dark earthy browns tinged with pink. Despite having left my body behind, I felt stronger and bolder and fearless and thought this would be a good “time” and “place” to confront my shadow self, a.k.a., gremlins, monsters, inner critics, demons.  After all, before we started my minders, therapist Diana and psychopharmacologist Dr. David, and I discussed my intentions, and Dr. D recommended that I not shy away from scary things, but rather go towards them.  

I wanted to know for once and for all what they wanted, what they needed, what it would take to get them to take a permanent hike, these ever-present commentators.  I looked around; I couldn’t see or hear or feel them.  I “called” them out.  Nada. Niente.  Nyet.  Nothing. Oh, the irony:  Usually they show up - strident, carpy, judgey -  without being beckoned, offering their opinions, comments and critiques without being asked.  While, thanks to many years of soul-searching and self-coaching, they no longer have the power to torment that they once did, they still feel compelled to intrude, impose and complain whenever they like.  Kind of like family.  And now when you want them to show … crickets.  I waited.  I called again.  I just wanted to talk in this neutral “space”, to understand, to see why they have felt so compelled to do what they do for so many years, to offer them another job, or maybe even take a powder, permanently.  I’d be happy to work with them!  And again, nada. A bit perplexed, I mentioned this to my minders, and Dr. D recommended I go where the journey takes me rather than try to chart its path.  But this was important.  Major. So I called them again, and waited. 

“Fucking cowards,” I thought.  My monsters were standing me up.  After my initial frustration, I experienced an epiphany of sorts.  At first I figured that they didn’t come forth because they were so immutably powerful, so deeply embedded in my psyche that I couldn’t get to them, not even from this place of power and peace, of inner/outer space/mind/body/heart/soul.  That they were untouchable, indomitable, and would haunt and taunt me in some way, shape or form forever.  Then things started to shift, expand outward, broaden, lighten.  I considered, or was informed by my higher self or some other entity, that my shadow and monsters didn’t show because they don’t really exist.  Never did. 

They exist only in my head; out of my mind, there are no monsters.  Because, as Dr. D informed me as I “returned” from my ”journey”, K allows for a dissociative experience, disconnecting one from one’s ego, one’s sense of self, who one thinks one is, what one thinks one knows, away from one’s engrained loops – those default habits and belief systems and thought patterns we’ve developed for myriad reasons that kick in automatically, dominate and crowd out other possibilities.  This dissociation creates some space and freedom, and allows for something new and different to come into our consciousness … 

From here, the scene morphed into something even more compelling.  Still having to move my hands and feet to see if I could, to see if I still had access to my body, things continued to expand.  I felt simultaneously warm and cool, heavy and light.  Everything and Nothing, Everywhere and Nowhere.  Diffuse yet connected. Swimming in a universe of paradox. Of no-thing.  I told Diana I could feel her presence like an angel beside me, guiding and protecting me. Then for the first time during my “trip”, a soft light broke the darkness.  A shimmering white tinged with gold flowed over and around me.  I felt embraced like a baby by some internal and/or universal source of wisdom, of knowing, informing me that of course all is well, all is as it should be. How could you even question that you are worthy, wonderful, loved, essential? That there is nothing to be afraid of?  A “God moment”, this male/female energy comforting, empowering, protecting me, ensuring that I am powerful, protected, an important, integral part of the wondrous whole.  I wanted to cry, relieved, exhilarated, thankful. (But ego stopped me, embarrassed to share tears with my minders.)

Then the light faded, and all was dark again. I realized I was holding my hands in prayer.  Exactly right.  The bright exhilaration of the God Moment dissipated into an inky calm, a perfect peace. Again, I felt no need to move, no need or ability to answer the queries of my minders (“where are you?”  “how are you?”  “what’s happening?”)  It felt most right just to be in the pure perfection of this quiet moment.  Warm and cool, here/there/everywhere/nowhere, alive yet not.  When I finally could, I responded, “I don’t know.  Wow.  This must be love.”  No Sturm und Drang, no drama; no need to do anything, prove anything, think anything, please anyone, judge anything, worry about anything, go anywhere.  Just peace and love, beautiful and blissful. “Huh,” I offered,  “Wow.  Bliss is kind of boring.”  

Ego kicked in and tried to impose herself a few times during the process.  For example, there was a moment during this quiet calm when I worried about my minders, hoping I wasn’t boring them with my long silences.  When I felt frustrated that my monsters didn’t show up.  When I was disappointed that my trip wasn’t very psychedelic and trippy.  When I wanted more answers and information than I thought I was receiving.  But it was also very easy to recognize the chatter of the monkey brain for what it is – idle mental noise, static, annoying nothings - and let it be without engaging.  To smile and let it pass, move out of the way and allow perfect peace and love to be instead.

I arrived at my session at 10am, with an empty stomach and no caffeine in my system, maybe little cranky.  The voyage itself took about an hour, and required another hour to fully return to my body, get over double vision and some sensitivity to light, and feel ready and steady enough to head back out into the Manhattan chaos and sunshine.  I was ravenous after, and had a slight headache in the prefrontal lobe area which persisted until the next morning.  (I never get headaches, and wondered whether the ketamine or the lack of caffeine caused it.) Fortunately, I cancelled the annual mammogram I had scheduled for the afternoon, because after lunch I passed out for a nap that lasted 3 hours and awoke still little dazed.  But content.

So that was my experience, my voyage to some deep inner/outer spaces and back again.  A moment of perfect presence, of freedom, of subtle support from Diana and Dr. Dave. Which according to my minders and other professionals and experts, is specific and personal and mine alone. Others will take very different journeys, some sensory and psychedelic, some blissful and beautiful, some baffling, some challenging or difficult but edifying, even enlightening.  I went out of my mind, out of my body, dissolving into the nothing of everything. As per the experts and accounts of fellow travelers, I was hoping that the effects of my one-off – the calm, the lack of doubt, the comfort of love, the peace – would last.  Alas, though, like a fabulous vacation to a foreign and magnificent place where you delight in many wondrous things, its effects have proven short term.  Instead of reveling in my revelations, a week later I’m no closer to discovering my next career calling; some anxious thoughts still surface; my age-old bad habits - the ones I hoped to understand, obliterate, transcend – persist unabated.  Nothing’s changed.  Nada. Niente.  Nyet. I’m still stuck.

Perhaps I need a follow-up booster, or another cycle of medication to overcome my “stuff”?  Perhaps this treatment works better for deeper depression, full-blown PTSD, crippling addictions, higher anxiety? Perhaps, as Michael Pollen writes in How To Change Yor Mind, the other psychedelic options work better for older, more grounded, more mature minds? Perhaps we “healthy normals” – garden variety stressed-out but high functioning New-York-City-dwelling neurotics - aren’t quite dysfunctional enough for K to effectively overcome our disruptive, debilitating but not devastating difficulties?  

Perhaps.  But oh, what a trip it’s been.

Or, perhaps, that‘s beside the point, because there is not point.  There is nothing to fix.  “Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage … It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.*  We’ve been much deceived:  despite the seemingly meaningful struggles, the adrenaline rushes, the highs and lows of love, the thrill of our fears, the orgasms, the intoxication of Sturm Und Drang, the addictive drama, the allure and pleasure of so many earthly delights, the deliciousness of our pain, this isn’t the real adventure.  In this game of life, we create the physical, mental and emotional that make us crazy. Out of nothing.  And when we leave our sweet and sour nothings behind and go into the blissful void of Everything, we become Everything.  We are free.  

So let’s play on.  And maybe chose to play a different game, or play the game differently. 

*Forgive me, dear Bard, for the paraphrased reference

© 2019 Tess Quadrozzi, A-Muse-In-Manhattan