After everything, it became clear that there was nothing left to search for. There was no need. What remained was simply to be.

​

For most of my life, I was digging—going deeper, pushing inward. Perhaps that psychedelic mole was a reflection of that movement. I searched, questioned, tried to understand, while many around me simply lived. It was difficult to comprehend how someone could move through life without asking these questions—working, meeting people, eating, passing through days without looking beneath the surface.

​

Years went by in that direction. One answer led to another question. I built internal structures, spoke to the subconscious and to something beyond it, moved through altered states, read, painted, walked through forests, loved, lost, met people, and lost them again.

At some point, it felt as if I had reached the bottom of a well I had been digging for years. And there, at the bottom, there was water. I had not been searching for water. I was looking for something hidden, something ancient. But in that surface, reflecting in dim light, I saw myself.

​

The realization was simple. The entire search had been moving toward the one who was searching. Not the personality, but the source of attention. It was not what I expected. I thought there would be something else. There was nothing else. With that, the need to continue searching disappeared.

​

Everything had always been simple. I was the one making it complex—life, its movement, its expressions. It seemed that depth required complication, but it does not. Simplicity is not reduction. It is precision. Moving from complexity into simplicity is not a loss—it is alignment.

​

At the same time, something else became visible. People around me had been living all along. Simply living. And within that, there was a depth that did not require explanation.

I remembered a phrase that stayed with us in Cold Spring: accept and release. In a world saturated with information, it becomes a rhythm—like breathing, but in perception. Let things come. Let them pass. There is no need to force clarity. Life unfolds on its own. Within that movement, decisions no longer feel imposed. They arise naturally, as part of the same flow.

​

Something shifted after that. The urgency disappeared. The need to push toward answers dissolved. Nothing outside changed, but my way of being within it did. I began to observe, create, breathe, and experience without constant tension. There was no dramatic transformation—only alignment. And that was enough.

​

As for psychedelic substances, it is important to speak directly. This is not for everyone. Without a foundation—without the capacity to create, integrate, and embody experience—it can destabilize rather than reveal. These states open perception, but what opens must be carried, understood, and expressed. Otherwise, it remains unresolved.

​

Environment matters. People matter. Trust matters. Respect matters. These are not tools for escape or entertainment. They amplify what is already present.

​

Over time, it became clear that the essential insights had already occurred. What followed was not discovery, but refinement—an increase in sensitivity rather than the arrival of something fundamentally new.

​

Now I return to those states rarely, only when it feels necessary.The rest of the time, it is enough to live. To breathe. To be here.