How a psilocybin mushroom retreat helped me find the divine and my true self
“Randiah,” the spiritual healer called to me in the darkness. “Come with me. I want you to meet God.”
I raised my eyebrows so high it felt like they would detach from my forehead. My face couldn’t seem to figure out how to express the excitement, skepticism, and curiosity simultaneously running through my mind. I followed the healer, Princella, to a glass door. The curvy, brown-skinned woman with a messy bun of locs stood in front of it, peering outside into the night.
With an arm embracing me, she pointed at the sliding doors and asked, “What do you see?” Standing there, reflected in the dark and slightly obscured by the rain-spattered glass, I saw myself.