What is my medicine?

"See through the illusion." (Saying on the card)

I have been treating myself since my teenage years.

At first I used alcohol and cannabis very unconsciously. My refuge in an existence that was neither coherent, nor pleasant, nor meaningful. When that didn't help anymore, I turned to stronger medication. Ecstasy and amphetamines were added and taught me what it meant to step outside of myself, to be open and to dance like there was no tomorrow.

Entheogens like mushrooms and LSD took me into a world that I didn't understand but experienced and that made more sense to me than the academic world. I learned to recognize the power of my mind and the relevance of set and setting and the beauty of nature. Ketamine showed me what it means to be objective. Non-attached, as they say in the spiritual world. Detached from the material and emotional whirlpool, vibrating through the universe.

And then she came, the old, wise grandmother Aya, who first taught me a lesson in the jungles of Peru, which took two years to integrate. The message was so rich, the experience was so intense. That night I made the real decision for the first time to devote myself to cacao, come what may. But that experience is not part of my story today. Ayahuasca has accompanied me, called me, connected me, challenged me and taught me since then.

So I have lived the last 10 years of my life in connection with medicine, which I relied on. Medicine that healed me and gave me knowledge. Medicine that was sometimes even fun. Fantastic, right? Yes and no. Because recently I was able to end my ceremony with the bitter realization that I had externalized my healing over the years. I thought I had to smoke it, swallow it, sniff it, breathe it or drink it. Ingest it, because it is outside of me, not there yet, with someone else.

As wonderful as the medicine was, I was trapped in the construct that I needed it. And I was cool with it. I knew where to get it and was thus in a functioning dependent relationship. True to the motto "You lead me to myself and I'll accept whatever it takes," I turned to the medicinal plants and substances, set intentions and "did the work."

It was like scales falling from my eyes when I realized that I had been trapped in this healing construct all these years. Like a mouse in a labyrinth that can't see from above and is so taken by the challenge of the puzzle. Maybe the goal is lurking around the next corner? Enlightenment? Healing? Maybe...

I came out of the ceremony laughing, threw my Rapé applicator into the fire and said to myself: That's enough. No more detours. No more "secret contracts" with medicine, teachers and the earth. Everything I need is there. And everything that isn't there, I don't need.

Medicine, I learned, does not heal. At best, it can facilitate the circumstances so that healing finds its way into my system. And if I had read that two weeks ago, I would have nodded in agreement, but I would not have understood it. And now my question to you, dear reader: Where do you still take detours to yourself? Where do you think you cannot do it "alone"?

What do you base your well-being on? Just notice it... the rest will happen automatically.

You don't need to change anything, it happens automatically.

With love, your Mischa