The Little Prince and the Fox

It’s 3:30 in the morning and I’ve been awake for over an hour. I woke up to pee, as often happens during the night, but then I haven’t been able to get back to sleep despite my tiredness and the guided meditation to help me relax. 

The feelings from my KAPT sessions are still lingering, too strong for me to sleep tonight, especially the ones from my second journey, the one on Tuesday. That sense of all-encompassing love. That sense of there being so much love. It’s still here. Not as clearly or intensely present in my body as it was on my journey on Tuesday, but still very present, very clear, very intense, and quite overwhelming. 

There’s so much love, and I know where it comes from. I know. 

God, this is so powerful. It’s too much for a human. 

Is that why we shut it out? Why our “normal” senses keep it from us in daily life, so that we can “function” without being constantly overwhelmed, constantly in awe? Does the medicine simply allow us to see it, to feel it wholly? Like other agents or situations (deep meditation, runner’s high, communion with Nature, etc.) but even more intensely?  

I know I’ve felt similar ecstatic moments and had some mystical experiences, precisely in deep meditation, or on a runner’s high, or in communion with Nature; but it’s never been so profound, so intense, so overwhelming and long-lasting as these effects from my KAPT journeys. Maybe because the ketamine actually allowed me to feel it all more deeply, even at a chemical level? In fact, on my first journey (on Monday) one of the things I felt and couldn’t help myself from saying was “Allow — Let it be”. And then during my second journey (on Tuesday), I clearly remember thinking & saying out loud (while totally under the effect), “Is it all in my mind? It’s just chemistry!”

Was I trying to reassure myself on Tuesday? 

On both days, at the beginning of the journey there was some resistance in me: despite really being almost totally out of control of the whole situation, I could feel myself trying to maintain some control, trying to resist the effects, trying to explain and/or filter the sensations. On both journeys, it was only after I had somehow “decided” to allow whatever was happening to happen, it was only then that the real, profound opening and connection happened. It was only then that I felt myself turn into a flag, a mountain, a river, be in the Earth. And it was only then that I felt that overwhelming, all-encompassing, ever-present, totally true sense of LOVE. It was only then that the healing came. Once I allowed “it” — whatever “it” may be. 

And now I’m still feeling it. And it’s keeping me awake. Maybe because my “regular consciousness” cannot allow it fully?  

Of course, now that I’m back in my “regular consciousness”, I cannot really feel those same physical sensations of flying, of moving or flowing with all those shapes & colors, of turning into a flag, a mountain, a river, of being in the Earth among the roots. But I can still remember those physical sensations very well. I can still remember that sense of disembodiment, that sense of being pure disembodied consciousness. I can still remember these sensations even physically, to a certain extent. 

And I can still feel that all-encompassing, ever-present, totally true sense of LOVE. Overwhelming. 

Would it be less overwhelming if I somehow allowed it to be, if I somehow surrendered to it?

Sometimes you get an email that makes your day. 

That just happened to me now. 

This upcoming Saturday there will be a charitable 5K run in my neighborhood: I saw it posted in the Open Space where I often go for my walks or runs and decided to try and participate — as a non-binary athlete, of course. But, as I half expected, until yesterday there was no other “Gender” category than the usual, binary options of “Male” & “Female”. So I wrote to the organizers straight away, telling them how eager I was to run in this charitable neighborhood event but that I wouldn’t sign up unless there was an official “Non-binary” category reflecting both my gender identity and the legal gender-marker on my IDs. 

Well, I just got the reply from the organizers, saying, “Hi A***, We look forward to seeing you at the event. Do you need to be timed for the 5K run? M*** ” 

So I went back to the website and clicked the “Sign up” link anew and the Registrant form now has FOUR gender options: “Male”, “Female”, “Non-binary”, and “Prefer not to say” — another step forward for improving equity and inclusion — YAY!!!

For a while now, when I think of myself as an animal other than human, I’ve been feeling like a Big Cat, specifically, a combination of a lion (male, the one with the mane), a mountain lion or cougar (maybe female), and a cheetah. 

Yesterday, I discovered that I am a peacock — also a peacock, or potentially a peacock, or a peacock instead. 

Before my second KAPT session yesterday morning, I went for a walk in the clinic’s neighborhood, connecting with myself and my surroundings, with Nature, with Everything really, in that gorgeous spring weather. I was feeling wonderfully connected with nature so when I got back to the clinic and my guide asked me whether I’d like to draw a tarot card, I decided to do so from “The wild unknown Animal Spirit guidebook” by Kim Krans. First, I asked the question, “What is it that I need to know about myself in this moment?” and then I drew an animal card. And there it was: the Peacock.

Honestly, I couldn’t make sense of it at first but I was open; so then these words from Kim Krans’s book brought me a sense of healing & belonging with another part of myself — maybe still only “in fieri”, a potentiality, but somehow the truest: 

“

PEACOCK 

INNER-BEAUTY, COMPASSION, ASSIMILATOR OF ANYTHING 

The beauty of the Peacock is unrivaled. It’s easy to think it comes from the plumage… but the secret of the Peacock is that the beauty resides within and extends outward indefinitely. 

This adept creature can assimilate or ‘digest’ all experiences in life, so it does not harbor resentment, conflict, or past pain within its psyche. The Peacock type is extremely rare — not many of us have reached this advanced level of acceptance of the self and others.

When in balance: confident, kind 

When out of balance: cannot ‘digest’ situations 

To bring into balance: meditation on navel

”

[from “The wild unknown Animal Spirit guidebook” by Kim Krans]

[Flow of consciousness processing & “integration” after my second psychedelic experience (Ketamine-Assisted Psychedelic Therapy) from this morning]

“I’m a mountain” — as I grew up out of the earth with it all. 

“I’m a river” — as I let go and flowed with it all. 

“I’m in the earth” — I felt that I was actually part of the Earth and part of the soil and among the roots. 

I was masculine and feminine and all of it together — both, and beyond. 

“It’s so beautiful! It’s so so beautiful!” I felt, and exclaimed, over and over. 

“I loved him so much — I loved you so so much” — tears streaming down from my eyes freely, like rivers, and me smiling. 

“I am so loved, so so loved… There’s so much love! There’s so much love!”

And then, in the depth and overwhelm of it all, all I could say was, “I know”.

“I know, I know, I know, I know.” And I truly did know. Not a rational knowledge in my head: it was the deepest, profoundest, fullest, most healing, most powerful, most wonderful and yet clearest and almost obvious knowledge I have ever had in my life. 

Both when I felt & said “I loved him/you so much” and when I felt/said “I am so loved”, I was both the object and the subject of the love. There was no separation, the love was all-encompassing, it had no specific direction or beginning or end: it was EVERYWHERE and it just was. 

And again, I saw the bright yellow light that I had seen yesterday.

——————————————————————————————— 

Yesterday I was flying and then I was a flag. 

Today I was a mountain, a river, in the Earth with the roots. And I was climbing effortlessly. And I was upside down. 

Today I called out “Daddy”, very softly, on my journey and almost named the boulderer, too. I think today finally brought the ultimate healing to that one & same wound, because I felt the all-encompassing love, and I knew. 

On both days I laughed out loud, full of joy. Today I also let tears roll down my face, cleansing. 

Healed.

There’s so much love.

I know. 

[Flow of consciousness processing — “integration” — after my first psychedelic experience (Ketamine-Assisted Psychedelic Therapy) from this morning]

“Why words?”

Indeed, why words? 

And yet, that’s what I’m using right now, right now, writing words. Writing words. 

Why words? 

Because they define us…? Maybe…? 

Because sometimes they’re all we’ve got, all we’re allowed to have or to use. 

Allowed. 

“Allow” 

“Let it be”

It wasn’t a rational “let it be”. It was profound, full of meaning, like there was a whole other dimension to it. A whole other dimension to everything, to ALL, and it was ALL ONE. 

It was ALL ONE. 

“There’s a light”, I said a couple times. 

I wonder whether that might have been the real, actual light in the room, maybe from the candle lit at the foot of the bed, by the door, seeping in through/under the shades on my eyes? 

But sometimes it was also just brightness in the colors and shapes that I was seeing & feeling. Because I could feel them with my whole body, although my body felt like it wasn’t there. 

Pure disembodied consciousness. As my “self” or “a self” but not my usual self and not separate from the Whole. Part of the whole without being either separate or lost. 

“Oh my gosh!” 

I know that also came out of my mouth, several times, from pure overwhelm — in a good sense, if “good” & “bad” even make sense here… 

And then I checked with my guide a couple times, asking “I am safe?” and “I’m not alone?” 

What I was feeling was in many ways scary and indescribable, scary because indescribable, but not “bad”. And all I really needed was the reassurance of being “safe” & “not alone”. 

At the end my sailing buddy was there and so was my dad, at the L*** beach, in the early 2000’s, where they belong. 

And my sailing buddy and the boulderer and my dad and I are all the same thing: we’re all the same type of boy. And so the only one of us that I need to keep carrying along with me is Me — the rest I can leave behind. 

The rest I can leave behind — like that sailboat did, sailing off, out into the ocean from the beach shore — the last image I saw before coming back to the present or “regular” consciousness. 

Another sad, concerning, infuriating reminder that the battle for trans people (& their allies) isn’t over, yet, and is actually getting worse in many places:

https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2023/05/11/1172589936/as-conservative-states-target-trans-rights-a-florida-teen-flees-for-a-better-lif

How people (mis)gender me and react to my appearances & my being openly/explicitly queer still affects me a lot — often too much. 

The cashier at the cafe where I went to get lunch today misgenered me with a colleague, referring to me as “she”, and it basically ruined my day. In my head I’m like, “How can you call me ‘she’ with these masculine clothes, this boyish haircut, this flat chest, and quite a deep voice?” What the heck do people pick up on — or not pick up on? How can they be so blind, so obtuse? Or even just so careless in the use of language?!? One could just say, “this person” or “this customer” at a cafe, thus avoiding to make any assumptions at all… 

On the other hand, when people, especially non-queer persons, show recognition & acceptance of my gender-non-conformity or queerness, it feels excessively good. Like the time when a sort of collaborator, who appears to be a straight cis-man (although, I admit, I am assuming), complimented me on my rainbow sunglasses once that we ran into each other at a cafe over lunch; and we ran into each other at the same cafe today, and he always acts super friendly with me and we’ve talked about going climbing together — that’s almost enough for me to get a (small, temporary) crush on him. 

Why do these behaviors and words from other people affect me so much, so deeply, sending me off-balance so easily (even if only temporarily)? 

On Sunday I did my first multi-pitch trad climb with a friend, i.e not with a professional guide (& it had been nearly two years since I’d done a trad climbing multi-pitch route anyway). 

I went with one of my closest climbing buddies, someone with whom I climb almost every single weekend — we basically have a “standing date” to climb together on Sundays unless something comes up for one of us. 

We’ve been climbing together regularly since last summer so we know each other well now, both as climbers and as people, and I truly count him among my best friends. I’ve grown a lot as a climber while climbing with him, also because he’s a much better, and much more experienced, climber than I, but we have the same level of risk tolerance and the same type of “somewhat responsible” recklessness.  

This was our first multi-pitch trad climb together, and it’s a big deal. Multi-pitch is a big deal: it involves a lot of risk, a lot of effort, a lot of shared work and collaboration, clear communication, and a huge amount of trust — along with very powerful, wonderful, and joyful emotions that can linger for days. 

This multi-pitch trad climb we did on Sunday was hefty: five pitches of grade 5.9-5.10, several rated R (i.e. a “route where you could get seriously hurt if you fall”); and then to get back down, we had to scramble a 4th class descent (which basically means you’re down-climbing something quite steep and slippery and that would preferably require rope). We were exhausted but exhilarated and super happy at the end of the day — and then went out to get dinner together, also for the first time. 

At the end of the day, as we said Goodbye, my friend said, “I feel like today has been a turning point for you”. And he was right: I definitely did grow another increment, as a climber, on Sunday. But I also believe it was a turning point for us, for me & him as buddies & climbing partners. And knowing him, I believe that’s really what he meant to say — “I feel like today has been a turning point for us”! 

And a wonderful turning point it was!

I love this feeling of belonging. Of belonging here, here and now. 

I belonged in the Acroyoga class on Monday night where, although I’ve been there only a couple times, some people remembered me from the previous two times I had gone — and it’s just a warm, welcoming, respectful, and affectionate community anyway. 

I belonged at the climbing gym to which I returned on Tuesday afternoon after many months of absence. When I walked in, the gym manager happened to be there: she’s a lovely woman whom I had “bugged” a lot last summer and fall about getting gender-neutral changing-rooms/bathrooms in the building, as other gyms have. We talked a lot last summer and fall, she explained the reasons she couldn’t get such gender-neutral spaces in that specific gym in the short term, but she also listened to me and tried to find options and solutions that could help me (& other persons) feel more comfortable. Among other things, she got signs put up outside all the binary restrooms & changing-rooms, right under the signs that say “Men” or “Women”: signs that say explicitly that whoever can use those restrooms & changing-rooms, based on how they feel. She also got sanitary pads placed both in the men’s bathrooms, by the sink, upstairs and in the men’s changing-room downstairs: sanitary pads in a little basket with a note saying, “Please don’t remove. These items belong here and are important here for some members of our community”. I am one of those “members of our community”: a climber, but also a queer, non-binary, trans-masculine climber. On Tuesday, when I walked into this specific climbing gym and the manager was there, her delight in seeing me again after so long was very apparent and genuine. She welcomed me very warmly, gave me a tight bear hug (after having asked for permission), and encouraged me to please give her any feedback I wanted to share about how I felt using the spaces there. Which is probably one of the things that helped give me courage, together with the various signs and items in the changing-rooms, to actually venture into the men’s changing-room for the first time (at least, for the first time since doing it with my guy-friends as a teenager).

I belonged at the end-of-semester celebrations in my department on Tuesday evening, where I received a warm welcome when I showed up after a week or two of absence. 

I belonged in the transgender choir when I finally joined rehearsal again on Tuesday night, after having had to skip for several weeks in a row. 

I belonged last night: accepting my housemate’s invitation to join her & her transmasculine partner (who is the founder of the transgender choir in which we all sing) for dinner and then to go out dancing all three of us together. 

This isn’t the first time, or period of my life, that I’ve felt I belong. I felt a deep sense of belonging in several sailing groups, with my peers in grad school, partly even at the university where I taught for several years in California. The strongest sense of belonging that I have felt in recent years has been with the climbing community, which is one of the reasons I suffered so much during the pandemic and lockdown when that connection was severed for months. 

But the sense of belonging I’m feeling now, here and now, is stronger, deeper. And I think it is stronger and deeper here & now because I am finally embracing, embodying, and fully experiencing a more authentic sense of belonging with(in) myself. 

I belong in this body: in this non-binary, trans body. 

When I walk into a space now, I walk into it with a completely different self-awareness and even self-confidence. 

When I walk into a climbing gym or up to a climbing crag, I know — I feel — that I am a climber, a true climber with/in my heart, with/in my head, with/in my body.    

When I walk on campus now I am finally regaining my confidence as a scientist, as a professional. 

And in all of these spaces I also walk as a queer person — sometimes scared or shy or worried, other times confident and proud — anyhow, always authentic. 

Like last night, on the dance floor, so evidently, obviously queer, so apparently non-binary. In fact, my two queer friends & I immediately attracted the attention of a group of lesbian women who were also at the dance venue for a celebration of their own. And it felt so good to be seen, to be recognized almost immediately as queer by other queer people. But it also felt good to be seen by all the other people there — so many of them staring but also so many of them genuinely appreciative. 

I am often getting overwhelmed by the attention I am receiving and even by all the warmth, the wonderful and yet new and often still unexpected welcomes. But it is lovely to feel that one belongs and, especially, to feel that one belongs just as one is, as one’s true, authentic self. To be seen, accepted, embraced, appreciated, even admired as one’s true self without having to hide or camouflage. 

I belong, here and now. I belong in this body, I belong in these communities, I belong in these spaces. I belong, just as I am.

One last moment of hesitation and then Arys did it. He walked into the men’s changing room at the climbing gym. 

It was a new space for him. He didn’t know where to expect the stalls and wash basins, didn’t know where the lockers and towels would be. And he didn’t want to look around — shy, scared, worried there might be other people in the changing room, people who “really belonged” and who might tell him he didn’t. 

Arys saw the stalls and went straight into one to pee. That felt safe, and a little more familiar at this point, since Arys has been using men’s restrooms more frequently in public spaces for a while now. 

Then it was time to change, to get out of the sweaty clothes from the strength & bouldering workout, to wash up a little and change into nice clothes for the department celebration to which Arys was going next. 

Was is cheating to change pants in the stall, hidden from everyone? 

In his loose pants and naked torso, with the pink scars still visible, Arys stepped out of the stall, went to find a towel and then headed for the wash basin to rinse off. Wash hands, rinse face, freshen up under the armpits. One step at a time, calmly — “You belong here”, Arys kept repeating to themself. 

Arys took his time to wash up and change as calmly as possible, hearing two other climbers in the restroom space, while Arys was in the locker space behind the wall, greet each other with the familiar “Hey man, what’s up?”, so typical between guys used to sharing the same spaces. 

Arys didn’t notice the few people coming and going while he was using the wash basin and then dressing. Someone probably saw the pink scars on Arys’s strong & lean torso. Someone probably only saw the back or the side — an athletic boy’s torso. But despite the lingering fear or anxiety, Arys did not hide (except for changing pants in the “safety” of the stall). Arys’s whole body was demanding to be there, to change in that space. 

And walking back out of the men’s changing room, his beautiful, strong, and delicate trans body still showing, almost bursting, under his street clothes, there was a boy who had grown a little more that day.