Let Go and It Will Come
A Journey with Psilocybin, MDMA, and Ayahuasca
This ceremony took place almost three years ago, but it’s stayed with me ever since. It was special for many reasons—most of all, because two of my closest friends from Montreal agreed to join me. I had a gifted shaman ready to guide us and finally had participants willing to take the journey. All I needed was a location. And that turned out to be the hardest part.
I searched everywhere for a place within budget. The ceremony itself was already expensive, and none of us had much spare cash at the time. Still, my friends booked their flights and the shaman set the date. I had to figure it out.
After weeks of searching, I was running out of options. With time running out, I ended up booking an expensive Airbnb in Miami Shores. My friends couldn’t afford to split the cost, and I didn’t blame them. I was ready to eat the cost just to make it happen.
But then, something shifted.
A day before the ceremony, I heard through the grapevine that a family friend—someone who facilitates his own ceremonies—had just purchased a second property nearby. I reached out, and he agreed to let us use it. Just like that. It honestly felt like magic. A few weeks earlier, when I told the shaman I couldn’t find a location, she just smiled and told me to release the stress. “The universe will help you,” she said. And in the end, it did.
The shaman had one request: that we allow a young man to join our ceremony. We all agreed.
This young man carried a lot of energy—he told me openly about his struggles with sex addiction and his history with prostitution. It was intense to hear, and I could feel the weight it placed on his mind and spirit. What struck me most was the mirror it created. A childhood friend of mine had once worked on the other side of that world—as a sex worker. Hearing both of their stories made me pause. At first, I had a judgmental view of prostitution. I believed it was wrong, maybe even dangerous. But listening to them, something softened in me. There was pain, yes—but also healing. Somehow, in a strange way, these people were helping each other navigate something deep and complex. And that realization cracked something open in me.
We arrived at the ceremony space—a beautiful home with a large, lush backyard. A giant tree stood at the center, casting a wide circle of shade. I felt drawn to it immediately and knew I’d end up there once the medicine kicked in.
We sat in a circle, shared our intentions, and said a prayer. The medicine came on quickly for me—faster than I expected. I felt my soul begin to lift out of my body, and fear gripped me. I held on tightly, afraid to let go. Eventually the sensation passed, and I opened my eyes to see everyone moving into their own spaces.
I walked over to the tree and lay down beneath it. As I stared up into the branches, I had a vision of a woman made entirely of stars and galaxies. She wore a crown of planets circling her head and held a silver platter in her hands. On the platter were four strange, multi-dimensional objects—impossible to describe but deeply significant.
She looked at me and said, “Eli, everything you want is here. It’s already yours. But it will be given to you in one hour. What will you do until then?”
She repeated the question again and again, and my mind scrambled to find an answer. I felt frustrated, tense, desperate to say the right thing. The shaman came over and sat near me. I told her about the vision and the riddle, and she simply said, “You’re trying to solve something with the mind that can’t be solved with the mind.”
That hit me. I took a few deep breaths. My body relaxed.
And then it came to me: I would let go.
If I knew everything I wanted was already mine, I’d simply enjoy the hour. I’d rest. I’d breathe. I’d just be.
That answer brought a wave of peace through me, and in that surrender, something amazing happened. I disappeared. I became a bright white light—pure nothingness. Like the scenes in movies where characters step into a white void, beyond space or time. I didn’t exist as a person. There was no experience, no body, no thoughts. Just presence.
Eventually, I felt myself returning. It was like being wheeled on a stretcher through a spiral tower. Doors of light opened as we passed by. At the top, I entered a dark room where a dentist was working on my teeth. I heard a drill, a polishing tool—and then he set it down on a silver platter. The same platter from my vision. I couldn’t believe it. My mind couldn’t process how that symbol reappeared, but I knew it meant something profound.
As the vision faded, I felt like an angel rising up from deep within myself. It wasn’t so much a landing back on earth as it was an emergence—gracefully surfacing from a place far inside me, like returning to the outer world with a gentle breath. When I opened my eyes, the young man who joined us was walking over to me, checking in. I couldn’t speak at first—I was still processing everything that had just happened. He began sharing more stories about his addiction and experiences. He expected me to judge him. But I didn’t.
In fact, I found some of his stories beautiful. I smiled and told him they sounded like they brought him joy. He lit up. His shame seemed to melt away in that moment. We laughed about some of the details, and he told me how lost he’d felt in life—but how these experiences helped him feel seen, even if only for a moment.
Eventually, the shaman guided us apart so the medicine could continue working.
Later, I sat beneath the tree again. One of my friends came over and we laughed, sharing what we’d seen and learned. He told me he felt a deep connection to his grandfather during the journey.
When our other friend joined us, his energy felt... off. Heavy. Judgmental. Like he came to the ceremony to prove something wrong. That hit me hard. I realized that he often offered advice, but it was rooted in criticism, not care. That energy had followed me for years—but after this ceremony, it no longer had a hold on me.
Near the end, I felt a strong urge to purge. I stepped away to be alone. In that quiet corner, I felt Ayahuasca’s presence all around me. Her energy whispered to me that another ceremony—one focused entirely on her—was coming.
And I was ready.
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🔑 Core Lessons (the obvious ones)
Trust the Process (Even When It Makes No Sense)
At one point, there was no location, no clear solution—just stress. Then, the space showed up out of nowhere. If you’ve ever struggled to let go of control, this will feel familiar. The truth is: commit first, trust second, receive third.Healing Comes From Presence, Not Fixing
One participant opened up about deep shame. What helped him wasn’t being corrected—it was being seen. Many beginners think healing comes from doing something “spiritual,” but often, it begins with someone simply sitting with you, without judgment.Surrender Is the Gateway to Everything You Want
There’s a question in this post that might stick with you:
“If you knew everything you wanted was already yours, what would you do in the meantime?”
That’s the heart of the spiritual path. And the moment you stop trying to answer it with your mind is the moment the real answer comes.
💎 Hidden Gems (not so obvious, but rich)
The Contrast Between Judgment and Curiosity
Two energies show up in the story: someone expecting shame and receiving compassion, and someone arriving with the intention to disprove. Watch how they move. You’re not told what to think—you’re invited to feel the difference. That’s energetic discernment.Symbolic Language That Speaks to Your Subconscious
The silver platter appearing twice
The dentist polishing your teeth
The tree as the center point of the vision
These weren’t explained—and they didn’t need to be. That’s what makes them powerful. You’ll find your own meaning in them, and that’s the point.
The Direction of Return
Most spiritual journeys are described as going up or out. But in this one, it’s the opposite—rising from within. That shift is everything. It reminds you that what you’re seeking isn’t above you. It’s already inside you.
🧠 Final Thought
This post isn’t just a story—it’s a mirror. You might see yourself in the seeker, the skeptic, the one carrying shame, or the one finally surrendering. Wherever you find yourself, trust that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
