Blog for Psychedelic Guardianship
An anonymous blog with the purpose of learning from the challenging psychedelic journeys of our clients, with the goal of providing informed psychedelic guardianship.
Recent Tryps
Read below about the journeys fellow guardians, space holders, facilitators, shaman, etc. have witnessed, what happened, how they handled it, what they wish they knew, what they learned, and how the journeyer fared afterwards, including the powerful music connected to the experience.
A Veteran Loses Control of His Body
The Tryp:
A young man with experience with psilocybin, consumed approximately 4 g of dried Shiva lingum/Amazonian strains of Psilocybin cubensis in a group ceremony for veterans only. About 3 hours into the journey the client started making uncontrollable jerking movements of his entire body, including his head and neck. One of the many assistants in the space went and sat with him and then decided to escalate the level of care by calling over one of the main facilitators. It soon became obvious that this man was having a usual reaction to the medicine in which he was unable to speak, and was violently jerking his body in all directions without any control.
How it was handled:
A group of four experienced facilitators took this young man into a private room to further determine what was happening and to give him is own space to have his unusual experience on the medicine. Within 20 mins in the private room with the facilitators the man started speaking in what seemed like a primitive almost ape-like language. He continued to thrash about. He was unable to speak in English to us for many hours. Interestingly, we were able to understand this ape-like language. The client intermittently became angry, stood on the table (with assistance) and screamed. He got up on the couch and started to thrust his head towards the windows, which we quickly padded with pillows. There was an American flag on the wall, the client motioned to the flag in distress. Shaking his head appearing in disappointment. After over two hours in the private room he was then able to speak minimal English and follow simple commands. We stayed at his side during this entire very unusual presentation. At times he was frustrated by his body moving around without his control. The journey was long lasting and the client wasn’t his usual self until the morning after he had slept a few hours.
What I wish I knew:
Man I wish I had seen this before. There were times when I felt myself get frustrated, I wanted him to speak English so I could know I didn’t cause harm. I wanted reassurance he was going to return to his prior level of functioning before this medicine experience. Luckily there was another facilitator with extensive experience and she had seen something similar in the past, albeit not as pronounced and long lasting as this experience.
How the client fared:
The client explained to us in a follow up call that an entity had come into his body and was taking over his movements. He reported this entity to be friendly. He felt this journey was transformative and he was able to release a great deal of anger and frustration while on the medicine.
Lesson learned:
Now I know psilocybin can make the body move in unpredictable ways and although it may make us uncomfortable as facilitators, it’s critical to support the client in their process. Allowing them to have space to yell and scream, kick and punch is also paramount.
Unrelenting Abdominal Pain on Psilocybin
The Tryp:
A young man consumed 4 g of dried Amazonian strain of psilocybin cubensis in an individual ceremony. About 3 hours into the journey he started to complain of abdominal pain. He became fixated on this pain. He tried to move around and get comfortable, then asked for a tums. This client had recently tapered off of SSRIs.
How it was handled:
I asked him when the first time he felt this type of pain. He seemed to be open to being curious about its origin, but couldn’t put his finger on where it was coming from. It seems he was fixated on it and looping around it. I asked him to remove his eye mask when the pain seemed to be a significant focus of the journey. After he continued to ask for a tums, and removing the eye mask didn’t seem to help, I ended up taking him outside. This immediately lifted the discomfort.
What I wish I knew:
I wish I was able to sit with his discomfort for a longer period of time and not allowing my own discomfort to foster him outside. I still don’t know if I made the correct decision. Pressing purge on someone else’s pain due to my own discomfort is something I am working on avoiding in the future. With that being said I don’t know if I held out longer that he would have come to a deep insight.
How the client fared:
After going outside the abdominal pain hadn’t returned. I lost touch with the client after he returned to his home country. I set him up with an integration therapist there to continue his work.
Lesson learned:
Shifting the environment can help establish if a physical pain has a not physical origin.
Grief Loop
The Tryp:
I sat with a woman suffering from alcohol use disorder and prolonged grief after the death of her husband over a year ago while she took a total of 4g of dehydrated Psilocybin cubensis mushrooms, unknown strain, I think Amazonian. For our preparation we walked through a wooded area in her town for over an hour after speaking for over an hour on the phone weeks prior. We went through her history, what she can expect from the medicine, and I reminded her the medicine always gives us what we need, which maybe very different from what we want. Early into the journey she began to weep. She cried about how she wanted to have a different journey and how all she was thinking about was more of the same. More grief, more feelings of hopelessness and loss of direction. She wanted visuals and her journey was dark and emotional. She was desperate for visuals and instead was met with profound darkness and amplified emotions.
How it was handled:
I sat close to her, I reminded her she was not alone. I wanted to press purge on her uncomfortable experience. Was she in a loop? How do I know? I trusted in the process, I trusted this was her journey. Although I wanted to jump in and navigate her in a direction other than crying for hours on end I held in and sat with her discomfort. It seemed as if she was in a grief loop.
What I wish I knew:
In retrospect I wonder if I interrupted the client’s process more instead of sitting there as she cried, holding the space could the journey have gone in a different direction. I still feel like she had the journey she was supposed to have, but dealing with a disappointed client is less than fun.
How the client fared:
I reached out to the client many times after the journey. Initially she responded and said that she didn’t feel like it helped with the alcohol cessation efforts, however she reported the journey had a positive effect on the overall sadness and that the process was continuing in dreams. The client reported her physical reaction to some of the sadness carried has been reduced and although the client had continued thoughts about the death of the spouse there was a new found relationship with these thoughts.
Lesson learned:
Check in with myself when I want to press purge on someone’s journey. Continue to trust in the medicine.
Music: Come by Lior Shoov
Interacting with a Demonic Presence During Ayahusca
The Tryp:
I was a guardian in an ayahuasca ceremony with approximately 20 people. A young man with experience with various different medicines, including ayahuasca was present, let’s refer to him as JL. It was a Hawaiian ayahuasca that we were sitting with that evening. The Shaman was an American medicine woman trained in Shipibo tradition. Midway through the evening JL called me by name out loud. I went over to his mattress and leaned down, careful to not look into his eyes while he spoke to me. I said “ Hey, what’s going on?” He went on to describe how he was presently face to face with a demon. He was distraught. Looking to me for guidance.
How it was handled:
I recalled from many ceremonies I had sat in that when someone is facing the darkest darkness, invite them to be curious about why the medicine is bringing them to that place. Then you can invite them to smile and say thank you to the medicine. When they are able to express gratitude this often allows the person on medicine to interpret what they are seeing from a different perspective.
What I wish I knew:
In this situation I felt prepared and there wasn’t something I wish I knew.
How the client fared:
Once I asked him to be curious he immediately developed armor. He told me about this armor. He then felt he could take on anything, fear fell away.
Lesson learned:
Trust what I have learned. There is always more, but sometimes what you know is good enough :)
The Physically Violent Client in Group Psilocybin Ceremony
The Tryp:
My client had approximately 4g of mixed strains of Psilocybin cubensis in group ceremony with approximately 12 other participants. I was one of many facilitators. This particular client was psychedelic naive. When we were doing preparation conversations she stuck me as somewhat disconnected and bizarre, but nothing concerning regarding her overall mental health. During the ceremony she sat up and began thrashing about. She was punching the mattress aggressively.
How it was handled:
I went over to her cautiously, knelt down and checked in. I had a n awareness that she could be violen towards me at any moment. I felt like I was in the presence of a dog I didi’t know… that she could bite at any moment. She wasn’t able to communicate and let me know what was coming up for her. I wanted to give her space and allow for whatever was coming to come up. I offered her my hand to hold. She squeezed me aggressively where I had to ask her to loosen her grip as it was becoming painful. She listened. We ushered her into a private room as it was unclear if her aggression was going to escalate, potentially putting others in the ceremony at risk. She willingly went with us into the other room. She intermittently sat up, continued punching the bed, being uncommunicative. We stayed with her, continuing to remind her she was safe and she could let out what needed to come. Appeared to us she was silenced a great deal of her life due to her upbringing.
What I wish I knew:
I’m not sure knowing something in addition to what I knew would have helped in this situation. I believe this client ultimately moved through some anger she felt in her life. She was able to release some of this in a safe and supportive container. I was happy we moved her to a separate room allowing for her process to unfold without having her hold back due to other participants potentially being disturbed.
How the client fared:
The client took a long time to come to of the medicine, but ultimately came back to herself after sleeping that night. I always offer my contact information for after ceremony if anyone struggling, she never reached out. I also ask all participants to have a therapist to integrate the experience with. Hopeful she did this work.
Lesson learned:
I think if I spent more time with her in preparation I could have anticipated more what was coming. I also wonder if I should have provided her with a lower dose, it being her first time. I did ultimately learn this client went to burning man and was using many substances and ended up needing peer support services., which makes sense to me, reconfirming that these powerful medicines should be communed with in a safe, supportive container.
The Extended Journey
The Tryp:
I sat with a psilocybin expereinced middle aged man in a group psilocybin ceremony. The client had consumed approximately 4g of mixed strains of Psilocybin cubensis, notable Shiva lingum (formerly known as penis envy) and an Amazonian strain. The client was very quiet during the ceremony, requiring little individual attention. A the 5 hour mark of ceremony we check in and gauge where people are in the medicine, he reported still being very deep in, 10/10.
How it was handled:
We encouraged others to respect his process and continued to hold the space for this client as he was still very much in the medicine. At the 7 hour mark the client remained in the medicine but was coming out. I began to think, what if this client doesn’t come out? I spent time with him, reminded him the medicine was wearing off and sometimes it takes some people longer to come out. He was getting frustrated that he remained in while others no longer were. We reminded him this was not out of the realm of normal. We informed him that once he had a bite to eat and sleep he would be feeling better in the morning (we always journey overnight). He ultimately left his mattress, had a little to eat and got to sleep.
What I wish I knew:
I wish I had a better plan for clients that remained in the medicine.
How the client fared:
The client was back to his normal mental status the following morning, he ended up joining us for another ceremony months later, again remained in the medicine longer than others.
Lesson learned:
My space was small for the 6 men that journeyed that evening. The second time he journeyed with us I was able to spend 1:1 time with him as he remained in the medicine longer than others.
Looking in the Mirror on Ayahuasca
The Tryp:
For this journey I was actually a participant, but since I hold space in medicine ceremony I felt it important to pay attention to this person’s process and share it here so others can learn from the experience. I was part of a small group Hawaiian/Periuvian ayahuasca ceremony. The client was an older man, with no prior medicine experience, if any it was MDMA, but I don’t think so. The client drank 1 cup of medicine and it seemed like immediately he was in the medicine. At one point in the night he went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Typically mirrors are covered in ayahuasca ceremonies, this one was not. When the client looked into the mirror he saw a demonic version of himself. A version of himself that was familiar to him, one that often got angry and became nasty to his girlfriend and others. For the entire night this man laid in absolute fear and terror as the medicine smacked him around, showing him who he had become. I don’t believe he reached out for help during the ceremony.
How it was handled:
The Shaman held the space with one guardian who was unfamiliar with ayahuasca. The client did not get 1:1 attention during the experience, but was tended to afterwards as he was absolutely distraught. I spoke to this participant for quite a while after the journey. I tried to explain to him that there is a duality to ayahuasca, and this is why many shaman refuse to offer one night of medicine to ayahuasca naive clients.
What I wish I knew:
I wish I knew the person helping facilitate didn’t have any experience with ayahuasca. I learned that I prefer a container in which the Taita or shaman is able to offer 1:1 assistance when needed. I recall I laid in the center of the room unable to move for many hours and wasnt offered help until the 4th time the Shaman asked me to move back to my cot. I couldn’t move as I was absolutely paralyzed. I also recall asking the Shaman to help me move through something, he responded by saying “I’ll be right back” and never returned.
How the client fared:
This client was completely dysregulated and horrified after his journey. He decided not to stay for the second night of medicine. Unclear what happened to him afterwards.
Lesson learned:
Maybe mirrors on medicine can be helpful? He was able to see how he treated others during that experience. I think this client could have benefited from more preparation work with the shaman. When a client is struggling don’t say you will be right back and never return. People need to be suported in these containers. Yes, they need to process things on their own, but the assistance and attention of a Shaman is critical at times, as if no one shows up thoughts of abandonment surely come into play. This can lead participants to feel even more alone than when they started the journey. Just my 2 c!
Journey of the Month
When the homicidal part surfaces. A journey of a young man struggling with new homicidal ideation in a group psilocybin ceremony.
Our psychedelic journey, the “dark night of the soul,” began well before the psilocybin ceremony we participated in. This journey goes back seven years to the point we entered into a therapeutic relationship as psychotherapist and patient. Ethan had come to work with me through a history of severe depression and alcohol abuse that was impairing his life significantly. His own personal journey, this “dark night of the soul,” in fact started well before, especially as a young teenager when he was sent to a wilderness therapy program, a supposed treatment that was a trauma in itself.
Amidst significant personal growth and progress, Ethan suddenly found himself grappling with a deep emotional setback following a significant relational loss. This unexpected turn disrupted the solid ground he had been building in his life, replacing optimism with despair. Recognizing the need for a fresh strategy to navigate through the overwhelming darkness and self-destructive impulses, I, as a certified Ketamine Assisted Psychotherapist (KAP), proposed exploring the psychedelic path as a potential solution.
Despite experiencing notable progress through KAP, we discovered that we were still grappling with pervasive obstacles—mental and emotional barriers, along with recurrent patterns attempting to drag Ethan back down. We reached a consensus to continue with the psychedelic approach and embark on a psilocybin ceremony in pursuit of further healing.
Because psilocybin is not legal in our state, we traveled together to Colorado and did a one-on-one “adventure therapy” intensive as preparation for the real adventure of the psychedelic journey.
We entered into the space that would be our setting, our container, for the ceremony and found that it had been carefully created and curated to hold the sacred healing energy for the group of participants. The healing spirit was alive and fully felt. I only knew the leader of the ceremony, but instantly felt the kinship from the other 5 facilitators who were there to hold space for the 6 male participants. Three male facilitators were carefully balanced with 3 female facilitators, bringing both masculine and feminine energy into the space.
The ceremony began after the participants were introduced to the growers of the medicine who each shared how they cultivated their psilocybin, each demonstrating the love and spirit they infused into their growing process. After setting his intention with the facilitators - to continue his healing journey and be open to the experience - Ethan settled into his mat, visibly nervous and withdrawn from the rest of the group participants. The dosage was then passed to him by a facilitator, and he appeared to settle in and get himself comfortable.
About two hours later, I see Ethan raise his hand and says, “Ryan, I need your help.” I found a place on the floor next to him, and he sits up, looking distressed and says: “This isn’t good man, this isn’t right. I’m having really dark thoughts.” I ask him what theyare, and he looks at me, with terror in his eyes and says: “I feel I need to murdersomeone…” My heart flutters, my stomach drops a little when I hear this. I remind him that he’s safe, that he’s in a safe space, and that whatever he’s facing, we can work through together. He responds and says “no man, I’m serious, you have to get me out of this, you have to pull me out of this, or you’re going to have to kill me…” Again, mystomach churns just hearing this declaration.
He is gripping my arms as he says this, and I pull him close to me, embrace him in a hug and continue to remind him that he’s safe, that we’re safe, that we’re going to work through this. I hold him, his head against mine, and encourage him to breathe, to breathe with me, to go deep and breathe and try to move through it… He seems to be relaxing a little, and after minutes of this embrace, he lays down and pulls his blanket over his head. I ask him if he’d like water and he says yes. I go and refill his cup and sit with him for another 20 minutes as he’s battling the darkness that was enveloping, that was pushing intrusive urges. He shoots up and says: “Seriously man, you have to kill
me… I can’t do this…” It solidifies in me at that moment that I need help. For the safety of Ethan, for the rest of
the group, I needed to talk to the facilitator. I get up and tell her what’s going on. She comes over and we both sit with Ethan. She asks to hold his hand, and he allows. With an energy that exuded love and compassion, she softly starts talking to Ethan, allowingthat loving feminine energy to be present with him. She inquires about what’s going on, to which he says again what he had been telling me. Calmly, compassionately, she reminds him of his safety, and that whatever the medicine was showing was something that needed to be worked on, but that we’d all do it together. He seemed to respond well to her presence, seemingly finding some solace… only temporarily, for he went right back into the distressing dark.
At this point, the facilitator makes the decision that it’d be best to give Ethan some private space and asks if he’d like to go into the back room where there’s a bed and it’s more quiet and secluded. He agrees and we accompany him back.
Sitting with Ethan at his bedside, the facilitator and I collaboratively support him through the next leg of his journey. He’s still in a state of distress, only at this point, he’s shaken to his core with what he’s experienced and begins saying things like “I’ll never be able to
come back from this,” and “I’ll have to kill myself.” The facilitator and I are aware that we need to be able to help Ethan understand and confront this dark part of himself that he is seeing.
Embodying both the feminine and masculine energy, from a place of compassion, love, and empathy, we begin exploring with Ethan what the darkness could be, and why it’s presencing so much with him in the journey. With a grounding in Internal Family Systems, the facilitator and I engage directly with Ethan’s experiences, acknowledging the presence of this darkness within him. We emphasize that this aspect is not inherently evil or external, but rather an integral part of his being that seeks acknowledgment and understanding. By reframing the language, we aim to help Ethan recognize that this dark force originates from within, requiring attention and recognition on his journey of self-discovery.
By employing this approach and consistently offering support through handholding, soothing words, and assurance of our shared journey, Ethan began to visibly relax. When prompted, he rated the strength of the darkness within him as a 6, a notable decrease from its peak at 10. His distress diminished further, evidenced by his increased physical relaxation and ease of breathing. It appeared that we had overcome the crux, the darkest hour of the night. I remained by Ethan’s side throughout the remainder of the night, positioned on the floor beside his bed, periodically checking in on him. As the ceremony drew to a close, other participants began to emerge from their journeys. It was unanimously decided that Ethan should be given ample time to rest and recuperate. As a precautionary measure,
the facilitator opted to remove all sharp objects from the kitchen and the house to ensure the safety of Ethan and everyone else present..
Hours later, still feeling the residual effects of the medicine, Ethan continued to express uncertainty about how he could continue after that experience. The authenticity of his despair resonated clearly in his voice. In my roles as Ethan’s companion, therapist, and mentor, I couldn’t shake the growing concern about the potential impact of this experience on him. His persistent despairing remarks about feeling unable to carry on heightened my awareness of the possibility that my role as his doctor and therapist, and my recommendation of this healing journey, might have inadvertently worsened his psychological state. The weight of accountability pressed heavily on me as I grappled with the unsettling question: What if the worst-case scenario unfolds? How would I cope with such a level of responsibility?
In the midst of this emotional turmoil, a sudden realization gripped me: the fear of bearing responsibility for someone’s death. This fear had haunted me for years, stemming from the tragic loss of my brother twelve years ago. I grappled with survivor’s guilt, tormented by the belief that I could have prevented his accidental drowning, that I
had failed to protect him. The weight of this guilt crashed over me as I sat beside Ethan. Through waves of emotions, tears flooding, I looked at Ethan and said, “I’m sorry… I’m so very sorry, I feel so responsible for you, for this…” He met my sorrowful gaze and gently said“no man, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”
At that moment, I couldn’t fully grasp the profound impact of our interaction on both Ethan and myself. It served as the catalyst for him to reclaim his strength, to transcend the depths of despair, and summon the courage to press onward. I recognize now that it
was what therapists might term a corrective emotional; experience—an inherently transformative moment that has the power to disrupt unhealthy patterns by addressing deep-seated wounds, thus propelling us forward from stagnation.
As Ethan took a shower, I made my way to the kitchen where I encountered the three facilitators, their eyes radiating profound empathy. In an unexpected moment, they enveloped me in the most tender and energetically charged embrace. Held within their arms, I released my tears, grieving for my brother and letting out the emotions stirred by the night’s intensity. In that embrace, I felt deeply cared for, loved, and immensely grateful for the presence of a community of lightworkers and healers capable of offering support in such a sacred and spiritual manner.
Ethan ate some food and seemed to have fundamentally shifted out of the dark despair he was in just minutes ago. After breakfast we said goodbye, and each of the facilitators also gave that same loving embrace to Ethan as we left.
As we drove away through the scenic mountains of Colorado, the bright sun casting reflections off the pristine snow-covered landscape, I engaged Ethan in a discussion about the roots of his descent into darkness. He recounted how it all began with a sudden immersion into a vivid memory—a memory that felt more like a haunting reliving of his first night at a wilderness therapy program when he was just 16. This journey through his past transported him back to the traumatic moment when he felt utterly betrayed by his parents, left alone in the woods. The medicine had brought him face to face with the raw emotions of abandonment, fear, disorientation, and profound loneliness he experienced in that dark and chilling moment. This trauma, a rupture to his psyche, remained unprocessed, unspoken, both with himself and his parents. Ethan then shared the realization that it was nearly a decade ago, almost coinciding with the date of the ceremony, that he was thrust into the wilderness, left to navigate the darkness alone.
At this very exact moment, as Ethan is sharing this, I receive a text from the facilitator. She checks in with us and shares a link to a song that she and the other facilitators had been moved to tears by, reflecting on the profound emotional journey of the night. The
song: “Meet Me in the Woods”
This is no mere coincidence. In this moment, the collective spirit and energy of the ceremonial space, the medicine, and each of us intertwined, seemingly orchestrated to aid Ethan, unveiling itself through the synchronicity of this moment. It revealed our profound interconnectedness, bound together through the heart and the shared energy, mutually supporting one another. Yet, its ultimate purpose was to guide Ethan towards the next stage of his healing journey, urging him to confront and process the traumas that have profoundly shaped his life in every aspect.
Ethan’s voyage resembled the dark night of the soul, a trek through the shadowy depths of his psyche—an essential odyssey. Such a journey could only unfold with the aid of the medicine, but crucially, through the collective efforts of the ceremony’s facilitators, united in a sacred, heart-centered manner. It stands as a testament to the transformative power of community and the courage to embrace vulnerability, to seek assistance. From Ethan to myself, from me to the facilitator, and from the entire group, we held space for each other in our shared quest for healing.
Vulnerability was the foundation of my apology to Ethan, as I grappled with feeling responsible for his well-being. In hindsight, I realized the significance of this vulnerability and the act of assuming responsibility as a corrective emotional; experience. It was intricately linked to the trauma he endured from being sent away by his parents—a trauma compounded by the absence of a sincere and authentic apology from them for the distress they caused. Moreover, Ethan's anger and sense of injustice, primarily directed at his father’s lack of accountability and emotional response, underscored the depth of his unresolved pain. In a transference/counter-transference exchange, my heartfelt apology may have served as a catalyst for his emotional breakthrough—a surrogate for the genuine apology his psyche yearned for, helping to dislodge him from his psychological impasse in that pivotal moment.
Ethan’s continued journey remains marked by courage. The impact of the medicine and the transformative experience reverberates in his daily life, enhancing his resilience and determination to confront and heal internal trauma, both individually and within the dynamics of his family system.
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