Psychedelic Therapy 3

I eat a third chocolate with psilocybin, enjoying every bite. I lay down on my left hip, bending my left arm, using it as a pillow.

 

I stare at the red and white candles on the ground, two to three feet away from me. Beside the candles is a Mexican pottery cup that Xenia or I used to drink cacao earlier tonight. I zone in on the cup, sensing something intriguing is about to manifest. The cup becomes a red and black friendly beaver head facing right. Earlier during the day, Xenia mentioned creatures, and that magic mushrooms might give me clues of my spiritual animal.

 

The round glass candles on the ground, one red candle and one white candle, join forces. The red candle is now a rectangle, while the white candle changes to a burning yellow-colored frame around the red candle. It floats above the ground, shielding Xenia’s face while she peacefully plays her gusli instrument.

 

The remaining candles on the ground become four red rectangles with a burning yellow-colored frame, like the floating one hiding Xenia’s face. The four candles float above the ground, forming a picture frame square around her head. The square frame slowly spins in a circular motion, while the first red rectangular candle with the burning yellow-colored frame remains blocking her face.

 

Xenia plucks various gusli strings with her fingers, creating beautiful echoes. The instrument strings turn into a large cloud of gray dust, and her fingers are in plucking motion, upward and downward. Her face and blond hair disappear, but it doesn’t freak me out. It’s fascinating to watch a faceless and bald Xenia play pleasant melodies on a gusli.

 

Xenia puts down her instrument, and I reposition myself to sit with my legs crossed. We both look at each other, smiling innocently as if we’ve been childhood friends even though we meet a day ago.

 

“I want you to play the HAPI drum,” says Xenia. I never heard of or played this instrument. It’s a large circle, with button shapes, comprised of nine rectangle-rounded notes and a big zero note in the center.

 

I pick up the two wood drum mallets and hit random notes. It’s hard to see the zero to nine notes without light, other than the eight lit candles on the ground. The tunes ringing from the HAPI drum move my upper body forward and back, while my head moves left to right. I flash a smile at Xenia, as she sits with her legs crossed, emulating a professional monk.

 

The wood drum mallets move in different directions, generating harmonious sounds, from raw and intense to sensitive and playful, regardless that I’m not looking at the instrument’s notes. Playing the HAPI drum is magic, penetrating my soul, and musical healing.

 

I stop playing the HAPI drum and look at Xenia. “Music is king,” I whisper.

 

“That was beautiful. You have the power to heal people with music. You’re a music healer,” says Xenia. That was flattering!

 

She gives me a kalimba thumb-piano instrument the size of a pocket book. This is my first time seeing and knowing about it. “Play,” says Xenia.

 

I strike the keys with my thumbs, clueless as to what I’m pressing. The dopamine flowing through my veins, along with Xenia’s happy face, indicates that my spontaneous kalimba music creation is somewhat resonating positively.

 

I finish playing the kalimba and relax, this time laying down on my right hip, bending my right arm, using it as a pillow.

 

Xenia takes out her phone and plays a recorded Peruvian ayahuasca ceremony that took place a few weeks ago in Mexico. The indigenous chants from a man and woman, including several shamanic instruments playing in sync, cause my upper body and head to move freely with my eyes closed while sitting on the ground. Xenia’s arms and upper body move fluidly.