Highlights from Being High — recapping my plant-medicine and deep-health retreat in Costa Rica
UPDATE: I enjoyed this retreat so much that I’ve partnered with the team to co-host on an ongoing basis. Space for each is very limited. Please be in touch if you’d like to join or have any questions!
NEXT RETREAT: MARCH 2022
It’s become a practice of mine to take at least one solo trip a year. Sometimes I’ll escape twice, but at least once for something very off-grid, introspective, often challenging, and with as much solitude as possible.
I started this type of travel, otherwise known as a retreat, in 2013 for a week of raw food and ashtanga yoga in Honduras with Wendy Green. (That was long enough ago that the photos are on Facebook and my recap of it is on an old version of my website.) It was the first travel I could afford after having moved to New York a few years prior and quite literally starving-hustling-starving my way onto my feet. That journey came at a pivotal point in my life — ending a relationship, moving into my own place, changing my career, becoming sober, and vegan — and was itself life-changing. There are things I learned then that I still practice every day, to this day. And, I learned about the very concept of a retreat from Wendy.
Since Honduras, I’ve retreated in Ecuador twice (both again with Wendy), Guatemala, Peru, Mexico multiple times, Hawaii, and this year, Costa Rica. (Noting that I don’t count vacations as retreats. I do love Central and South America and have vacationed in Uruguay, Colombia, Costa Rica, Panama, Belize, Mexico multiple times, and more. I dream of more deeply documenting these adventures as they’re such a significant part of my life and the shape of my self, which affects the work that I bring to you — but I’ve opted for more purely absorbing and putting the phone-blog-screen away in most cases.)
Hawaii: 10 Days & 120 Hours of Sleep, and the retreat I left early.
Travel is a high priority for me and after a year of none, and quarantine, and all of the things that we all know well enough that I don’t need to mention them here, I was very ready to retreat. I knew that the changes and resultant growth would begin as soon as I was away from my partner, alone on a plane, navigating the connections to a new place, and otherwise out in the world again. I also knew that that wouldn’t be enough of a challenge for me.
I prioritize facing fears, leaning into difficult situations and sensations, and otherwise going toward what scares me — or what I don’t understand, haven’t experienced, or have more to learn about. I love routine and I’m also constantly changing mine — reshaping habits, breaking off dependencies, testing and learning. And, I do this for my clients, too.
This retreat was about me jumping into the deep-end of my fear of heavy plant-medicine work, as well as doing some focused, disconnected resetting. In researching retreat centers, I considered some of the well-known spots like MycoMeditations (which I almost joined and would totally sit with) but ultimately chose to be guided by Fern Olivia because I respected her experience, empathy, reputation, and personalized approach. I am very serious about who I hand my psyche to and I trusted her. I also felt like celebrating my life to-date and so justified splurging on a more luxurious stay than some of my previous hut lodgings have been.
See my pre- and post-Peru stories for more on who else I’ve entrusted with my consciousness: Losing My Mind By Choice: Why Go and Peruvian Plant Medicines and Breaking The Habit of Being Myself
I worked with Fern to create a custom agenda that included a couple of body/mind therapies each day, plus three plant medicine ceremonies. The therapies ranged from massage and breathwork, to sound, reiki, Ayurvedic treatments, kundalini, kirtan, dance, and more. I would be alone, but entirely cared for, which meant even more headspace for letting go. It’s also a rare relief to be carried as an adult, and that is how I felt.
As you are well aware, my food preferences are specific to say the least. And while I’m happy to compromise on the road, I didn’t want to this time. I shared my meal requests with Fern, hoped for the best, and ended up with some of the most incredible meals I’ve ever hard. Hyper-color tropical fruits and vegetables from a nearby organic farm became a kaleidoscope of raw-vegan-high-vibe plates, bowls, soups, smoothies and beyond that left me so entranced, I didn’t even read while I ate. I just ate, in order to enjoy every single bite most fully. The chef, Pedro, practically radiated love — and was Michelin Star trained, I later learned. (Find him here. And he travels!)
My lodging was Thea Retreats, a perfect little property in the hills above Santa Teresa — a town I only visited once briefly (for a COVID test). (Thea can be booked separately for stays without the shenanigans but for an itinerary like mine, you’ll want to work with Fern.)
My room, Thea
Hot pink pitaya smoothie with edible orchids, by Pedro
Post-ceremony nourishment lunch, by Pedro
Post-ceremony nourishment lunch, by Pedro
Hiking with Fern — whose patience, generosity and seemingly endless array of healing modalities positively enveloped me. As I told her, planning a retreat in such great detail is very hard to do and she did it perfectly.
I could write a book about my retreats and maybe someday will, but for now I’ll focus on my plant medicine journeys, as I assume most of you are more interested in those than my smoothie bowls.
My greatest fear has always been (and continues to be) losing my mind. So, encountering that fear again was why I planned this trip; it would be exposure therapy, which I believe in (in this context) and a leaning-into. I have noticed that as I get older and have more false senses of security about my career, home, relationships, and health, my anxiety has lessened to nearly none. (I also credit my lifelong mission of healing it by going toward it, and relentlessly prioritizing my mental and physical health. And, I believe that the trauma of my Dad’s death, and COVID, reset my fear sensors in a probably permanent way.) On stabler ground, I’m even more keen to push myself into the uncomfortable. I don’t believe I’m torturing myself, and it’s not a form of sabotage (though I’ve definitely explored both) — it’s a constant pursuit of expansion, and knowing that much of that requires proceeding through discomfort.
I wanted to know what the high-high was or me. I wanted to find a new limit — the edge of the universe, my Dad called it. And, I wanted to know the middle and lower dose landscapes too. I wanted to knock out some nervousness, find my capacity for more, and return enabled to do more of my own psychonaut-ing. In between, I wanted to chill the fuck out.
That is exactly what I got.
The first ceremony was scheduled for Father’s Day. A coincidence (maybe) and a timing with so much significance given my Dad’s death last year. One of our last plans together had been to use psychedelic therapy to help free him from his binds. I wore my locket with his ashes to Costa Rica, and it rested on my heart during every single ceremony. While I was very open to us connecting via the medicine or my grief surfacing, or there being intense pain to wade through, I know plant medicines well enough to appreciate that we don’t have any say at all in what’s going to get worked on.
My intention is always the same: I’m open to whatever the plant wants to teach me.
My first trip was beautifully led by Fern and Marito who were perfect guides — surrounding me with music, touch, scent, care, and support. But, as is the case with these things, just because the set and setting were perfect (which is so important) doesn’t mean that it was an easy or transcendent session.
I don’t want to suggest what your session might be with too many detail of mine (just like I knew all about ayahuasca before drinking it but had avoided reading even a single “trip log” before having my own) but I will share that it was almost identical to my sessions with other entheogens, which surprised me. And, call it ego, resistance, neurochemistry or otherwise — I did not like being that high. That did not surprise me because I’ve never really liked being high. I like control. I grew up in a volatile home; control is my safe place. But, that’s exactly the point, and why I went off and made myself get high.
Marito, shaman
A larger dose would have blasted me right past the resistance into ego death, and I’d hoped to get there on this trip, but after the discomfort of the first journey, I simply didn’t have the guts to put myself through an attempt again so soon. As with my first San Pedro ceremony, I swore I wouldn’t do it again. (I had San Pedro again a few days after that promise.) And a few days later I did it again.
For round two, I chose a lower dose (about a quarter as much) and the day was unsurprisingly quite different. (Side noting that there is a lot of value in group retreats, which I have done, but I was very glad for the ability to adjust my plan as needed on this trip. I highly recommend the accountability and requirements of group trips when getting started. They also make backing out of daunting adventures much harder to do.) This time, I was able to remain engaged with the world. Fern and Marito took me through a sort of shamanic-sound-school that included vocal exercises, learning medicine songs, and using their instruments — we played! I noticed my openness to being silly and weird. No degree of self consciousness prevented me from making strange mouth noises or singing off key. (This ease seems to have been a lasting effect.)
Most notably though, was that several hours later — as the sun was setting over the sea below me where I sat alone with my journal and a plate of rainbow-colored produce for dinner — I hit a bliss high.
I have had a few peak experiences in my life and this was definitely another one. I live for these. LIVE for them. An entire year’s work is worth an hour of this heart-bursting, mind-bending joy. Every one feels like it could be the last, and it definitely may be. These moments are my religion. And, I’m realizing, a big reason why I may decide not to have children.
(I have referred to the sensations as “dysfunctionally elated.”)
Didgeridoo after rapé (medicinal snuff) before the third ceremony.
Later in the week I had my third ceremony, which was a sort of hybrid of the first two. When not journeying, I went deep into simplicity. My days started with an hour-long hike-jog through the lush hills as the sun rose. I’d return to a celery juice, provided by Thea, which also hosts raw-food and juice-cleanse retreats. If it was a ceremony day, I’d have fruit, journal while digesting, and then dig into some precious local mushrooms. On non-ceremony days, my smoothies were electric pink pitaya plus or minus an edible orchid, seeds, and other treasures. I’d practice yoga, journal, swim, meditate, read, and the like. No music, no podcasts, no screens, no one else except for meals or bodywork. Just my brain settling out of the incessant stimulation that is modern life (especially in NYC) and into the rhythm of nature. It was constant flow, which I articulated lightly here:
For the first few days, I was the only person on the property (Fern lives next door) so had a little piece of paradise to myself. Even when fully booked, Thea is only a few rooms, so it’s always very private and the grounds are like a little garden of eden. Geckos laugh in the thatched rafters, and monkeys periodically swing by for papaya tree leaves.
with Marito, after the first journey
By the end of the week, I felt like my jungle self again, and also did not want to leave. Sometimes trips end when they should; this one felt like just getting started. It’s also a serious intention of mine (and Zach’s) to end up in a simple haven like this one was, so each time I’m jungling, I feel closer to just staying.
What’s been most impressive about this retreat is how different I’ve felt since returning home. I do know that great retreats have the following after effects (for a period of time): Slower speech; nearly zero nervous-system reaction to stimulus, which can read as being really, really chill or even unemotional and sort of flat; earlier bedtime (I was falling asleep three hours earlier than normal); totally re-inspired food practice (I’m back on the raw kick now and have been practicing intermittent fasting for nearly eight years since first learning it from Wendy); lessened or absent addiction to phone, email, snacking, substances, distractions or consumption in general (major); readjusted priorities — a lot of things just don’t matter; greater empathy; and so much more.
I’ve enjoyed all of the above, which admittedly can fade if we don’t nurture the changes (and even when we do). I try to extend my retreats by giving myself as much room as possible to integrate on the other side, and spend a little time every day revisiting how I felt, what I learned, etc. This is how those realizations and great intentions turn into life-changers. This trip shook me loose in some extra ways, though.
I hadn’t realized that it was nearly a silent retreat until I got home. I prefer silence and slip into it easily, so it wasn’t something that struck me during the days. Because I opted out of all of the evening social engagements (thank you for understanding, Fern!) I spent most of the time not speaking. When I returned to NYC, it felt like having to relearn how to talk. And the first doing so, the first day back I lost my voice. Overall, it was as if all of my being had been directed inward so thoroughly that I had to haul it back out and point it at communication again, at relating to other people, at “being” “myself.” Fascinating. And very uncomfortable in that I preferred feeling like an alien to reintegrating. I’ve also realized that the plant medicine was working on things that I didn’t consciously bring to the table.
There are too many small examples to mention here and now, but the word that keeps coming to mind is: reduced. I have felt simplified. Stripped of a layer of self consciousness. Relieved of some aspect of my personality that complicated things.
A quote I read recently (about yoga) sums up the sensation well:
... a permanent identity shift in which the personal worldview disappears [and] consequently our egocentric patterns of attachment, aversion, fear and so forth [are] transformed into unselfish ways of being.
I haven’t arrived but I intend to keep trekking.
❦
Join us in September.
Pedro (chef), Marito (shaman), Fern (host, guide, healer), Michael (foraging, chocolatier, love-giver) — shall we host retreats together?!
Sunset, Thea
To work with Fern Olivia, visit her site here: www.fernolivia.com | tell her I sent you to receive a discount or special extras.
Travel well!
Tagged: travel & retreats, plant medicine, psychedelics, raw food
Share
Newer PostHerbal Coffee Alternative for Energy without Jitters