The Beginning

When I was five, my mom asked if I believed in God. I said, "No, we are all just the Universe experiencing itself." A strange thing for a child to say, right? That’s where this journey began.

At 18, I was lost—stuck in unhealthy relationships, searching for meaning. One day, while painting the kitchen, my boyfriend asked if I wanted to take magic mushrooms. With little knowledge, I agreed. An hour later, fear took over. Hiding under the covers, I heard a voice: "You must leave this relationship and get off antidepressants." The experience terrified me, and I swore off psychedelics. But the message stuck. Soon after, I moved closer to my college and slowly weaned off my medication—unknowingly beginning my journey of coming home to myself.

Four years later, at 22, I was camping with close friends. Before a day hike, they asked, "Do you want to take some LSD?" I had sworn off psychedelics, but something told me if it’s with anyone, it should be them. Trusting them, I took half a tab. They suggested setting an intention. Unsure how, I said, "I want to see a moose!" They giggled but affirmed it. That day, the trees danced, music felt alive, and I learned to juggle. Then, across the lake, stood a mother moose and her baby. In that moment, I felt something greater was listening. On the hike back, we played Find Your Cloud by Papadosio, and for the first time, I felt an unexplainable connection. It was magical. That day changed everything, opening me up to deeper psychedelic exploration.

Over the next four years, life moved fast—relationships began and ended, I graduated, moved states, started my career, and navigated the pandemic. I experimented with different substances but didn’t think much of it.

Then, in 2019, a moment stood out. At Lightning in a Bottle, I was at a CharlestheFirst set during sunset, immersed in the music and visuals of nature. I felt a deep peace, but suddenly, sadness washed over me. Something emotional was rising. My partner, sensing it, suggested we sit by the lake. As we talked, the words and feelings rushed in: It was about my mom. She wouldn’t be around much longer. I didn’t know where it came from, but I felt sure. I cried and let it pass, relieved to no longer carry it.

Looking back, that was the third defining experience that set me on this path.

January 2021—nearly a year into the pandemic. I was living in Oakland, navigating one of the most stressful times of my life. My daily yoga practice was my only anchor. Then, on January 10th, a thought popped into my mind and I decided to google it: “Psychedelics San Francisco.” Inspired by How to Change Your Mind, I was curious about a guided journey. The first result? The Psychedelic Society of San Francisco. They had an online event starting in 15 minutes—Developing a Relationship with Sacred Mushrooms. It felt too aligned to ignore, so I joined.

I arrived late, missing the rule against asking for a guide. So, naturally, I asked for a guide and if anyone knew someone who guided journeys. Dead silence. Thankfully, someone emailed me afterward, and before I knew it, my first preparation session and ceremony were set.

I expected hardship and shadow work. Instead, I was wrapped in warmth, completely held by the Universe. And to my surprise, I recognized The Universe as She. Growing up with Christian ideals, I had always imagined divine forces as male. But here She was, in radiant colors, saying:

“These next four hours are for YOU. This is your personal concert. Sit back, relax, you deserve it—INDULGE.”

And I did. It was pure serenity. This was the best day of my life, and in many ways, still is. The connection I had felt to the Universe as a child was back. It was the most known thing I had ever known.

That night, still raw from the experience, I stepped into the shower. Suddenly, a visceral jab hit me—a wave of torture, sadness, and mourning unlike anything I had ever felt. My body became a vessel for ancestral pain—the suffering of women before me who were abused, trapped, or lost in vices. Then, the focus shifted—to my own mother. I felt the weight of the strife I had put her through as a teenager. I knew I had to own it.

A few days later, I called her and apologized. She was loving and understanding, but I could tell—it meant everything to her.

Looking back, I now see the gift the Universe gave me. Just six months later, my mom would pass.

Between March (my first journey) and August 27, 2021 (the day my mom passed), I underwent another journey—one that would shift everything.

This time, I was shown indigenous faces and mushrooms, a recurring message echoing in my mind: “You are meant to be in this space. Support in any way you can.” I had no idea what it meant, but thankfully, my guide took the initiative to connect me with a few psychedelic startup co-founders. Looking back, I call this Divine Intervention.

This journey emptied me out, expanded me, and made me a vessel to hold more, be more. In hindsight, I see how the Universe was preparing me for the grief I was about to carry.

I kept saying yes—following the breadcrumbs that led me to incredible people, fulfilling work, and a path that continues to unfold in the most aligned way.

Because of this journey, you are here, reading this.

"Coming full circle" is the only way to describe the cycles of my life. Psychedelics and conscious embodiment practices have launched me into new ways of being—helping me soften, release, and close past chapters. Now, I stand in a space of service, dedicated to helping others find their most aligned, whole, and authentic selves.

I show up grounded and rooted, knowing that in this space, anything is possible. The darkest corners of the mind don’t scare me—I’ve sat there in my own. I’m here to celebrate the highest highs—the fun, the joy, the laughter. And when life feels like it’s falling apart, I’ll be here, too.