How I Puked And Found Enlightenment in Orlando: A Love Story
a·ya·huas·ca: /ˌīəˈwäskə/ noun — a tropical vine native to the Amazon region noted for its hallucinogenic properties and funky taste.
The year before quarantine, my fiftieth birthday loomed large.
I wondered how best to celebrate.
A spa day?
A themed party with black and white balloons and Sassy Handpainted Wine Glasses® filled with my favorite Orange varietal — wine of choice for my new demographic, according to r/menopause.
Or maybe hide under a weighted blanket and buy editing software to finally do something about my headshots on Instagram.
Lighting and three different filters only go so far.
Then I heard about a nearby ayahuasca retreat.
I’d been reading books and articles about the benefits of psychedelics.
They’re not for everyone, but people suffering from trauma, addiction, medicine-resistant depression, or end-of-life anxiety reportedly find healing and comfort after tripping in therapeutic settings. Clinical studies at Johns Hopkins and Stanford, to name just two, have shown promising results.
