Holy, Holy, Holy: My Journey Through Grief, Pleasure, and Permission

Some experiences leave a mark so deep they rearrange something in your soul.

This was one of them.

I came to Jamaica to sit with mushroom medicine in sacred ceremony, surrounded by strangers who would quickly become mirrors, witnesses, and companions on the path. I didn’t arrive with a neatly packaged intention, despite knowing the importance of having one.

All I knew was that the constant waves of loss and grief that had crashed through my life in recent years had left me feeling disconnected from my body, and longing for that vitality to regenerate.

So here I was.
With an open heart.
With reverence for the medicine and this work.
And with a deep-seated hope that something meaningful might unfold.

Our first journey took place on Mother’s Day, in ceremony with guides and participants from around the world. The property was unbelievably beautiful - limestone walls, soft patina on every surface, and nature slowly reclaiming each little crack and crevice. It held echoes of a painful past, of slavery through the sugar trade. And yet here we were, gathered in a collective act of restoration. Bringing healing energy, intention, desires and dreams into this space.

Before the ceremony, I placed my scarab beetle totem on the altar, a symbol of death, rebirth, resurrection. And for me, a symbol of connection to my dad in the unseen realms.  

That night, we were treated to a sonic soundscape curated by global musicians, some strumming and singing local Jamaican folk tunes, others channeling medicine music from various lineages. At one point, the music became so enveloping, I sat up and removed my eye shades, only to see a sea of ancestors, like a choir backing up our guides and musicians. It felt like permission. Permission to be here. To be on this land. To allow the medicine to move through me.

The full moon was nearly ripe, and I started my sacred flow just moments before ceremony began. It would become increasingly significant as the retreat unfolded, but in that moment, it made me feel abundant with feminine energy. The music felt feminine. My body felt sensual. Even the smell of the earth and the song of birds felt pregnant with womanly life force.

When grief began to surface and my eyes welled with tears, I was anything but surprised. I’ve come to know grief’s many faces over the years, and I knew Mother’s Day would stir the waters again. My mom’s spirit crossed over not long ago, and while I’ve made peace with much, in this moment I was swimming in the ache of what I couldn’t do… of not knowing how to better care for her in those final days, of not holding her hand every chance I had.

A sweet sister heard the call and came to kneel beside me, gently holding my hand. And in that moment, it felt like I was holding my mother’s. A gesture of forgiveness. Of understanding. Of softening my heart, my body, my soul. Making space for joy and pleasure to return. To invite in an innocence, a reprieve, a lightness I hadn’t known in so long.

I swirled in gratitude for the mothers in my life who love my children like their own. Who show up. Who check in. Who allow me to do the same.

I felt an ocean of love for my husband, who celebrates my growth without fear, whose quiet steadiness gave me the safety to go deep, whose devotion to fatherhood opened the doorway for me to be here, fully immersed, without guilt.

I visited each of my kids in spirit, one by one. And with each one, the same phrase came through like a drumbeat of devotion: I got you. I’ve so deeply GOT you. What a gift to be their mother. 

I spent time with my dad and brother in the unseen realms, and in their presence, I found new meaning in the time we shared here on Earth. Secrets of this reality were revealed as an unfolding in my body.

Some things defy language, and I know they’re not meant to be captured in words. They’re meant to be felt. To be held sacred and quiet. But this felt like a gift, a gem of wisdom offered after years of showing up to meet the medicine.

The next morning, as I journaled, the first words I wrote were: Holy. Holy. Holy.

Before the second ceremony, I questioned what intention to invite into the space. I felt so full from the first, it almost felt greedy to ask for more. Still, I stayed open, in trust. That morning, a stream of words flowed through me: vibration, embodied, remembrance, awe, sensual, feel it all.

Only minutes after the medicine was served, I knew something big was brewing. My dad greeted me at the threshold between worlds - as he nearly always does - and I felt his cheeky presence, teasing me as if to say, Be careful what you wish for.

And then, before the music even began, my body began buzzing with primordial energy. In the silence, in the natural vibrations of the land, I felt a scaffolding being constructed within me. Cellular elevators lifting, expanding. Electrical energy charging every part of my nervous system. It was pure pleasure, yet also disorienting in its intensity. I hardly dared move or breathe for fear of losing it.

And then the music began. Not as though it was born nearby, but as if it was being summoned from a faraway, ancient place. 

The sounds moved through me and carried me into a heavenly space, rich with ethereal visuals. I felt invited into a sacred realm, co-creating it in real time with consciousness itself. I was free bleeding, and I could feel the flow pouring through me as I ascended into this cosmic dimension. I’ve never felt so feminine, so powerful. 

And then, my body welled up with grief. So deep and dense it felt like it could crack my bones. I ached with a sorrow that felt ancient. I was no longer grieving just my own mother. I was grieving for all mothers. Across time. Across space. Across cultures and oceans and masses of land. The wound that every child bears unless they leave this world before Her.

I wailed with reverence. My body shook with the magnitude of what I was holding and expressing. It was primal. Sacred. Holy. 

And still… there was endless beauty in it. Wow. 

A sister anointed me with rose water. She held me with cold towels and warm words, ushering me into this moment of initiation. Her care reminded me: this wasn’t just for me. This expression of grief was a collective release. A mirror for the pain we all carry and so rarely give ourselves permission to express.

There’s that word again: permission.

I felt it everywhere. From our guides, from my neighbors, from my brothers and sisters who shared this ceremony tent. Permission to moan, to purge, to grieve deeply. But also to writhe in ecstasy. To shiver with pleasure in the release. To be seen and celebrated in my fullness.

I felt part of the Whole. Not separate. Not fractured. But whole, holy, and in service to something larger than myself.

That night redefined my understanding of what mushrooms can do. And I’ve been in deep relationship with this sacred medicine for nearly half my life. Still, this ceremony took me deeper. Entirely humbled, nearly undone with awe.

Eventually, the grief dissolved from my body. The warm, giant tears dried. The contraction released, the invitation to expand became clear. 

And laughter came.

I opened my eyes to see the tent half-empty and the sky a pale morning blue. Had we journeyed through the entire night?

I laughed harder. Joy burst out of me in waves. It was a joy I didn’t even realize my body had been aching for. I was tickled by the realization that there was still so much of the night left yet to unfold.

The awe and amazement of it all had me offering my voice to the choir of instruments and vocalists around me, with resounding wows.

Wow.
Wow, the depth of pain.
Wow, the capacity for pleasure.
Wow, the ability to feel it all at once. 
Wow, the beauty of it all.
Wow.

I joined many of my fellow travelers outside on the lawn as the sun set and the full moon rose. Soaking in the beauty of the moment. Relishing in the pleasure of echoing belly laughs. Humming and vibrating with the music and the singing frogs as it carried through the warm island wind. 

And just before closing the evening, I was greeted by a beautiful freckled yellow beetle. I offered it a ride back to a leaf as a gesture of kindness, but it refused to go. Instead, it crawled up my arm and stayed with me, journeying back into the tent as we returned for dancing and laughter with our fellow travelers.

It felt like a living echo of the energy I had invited in with my beetle totem at the altar. A reminder of rebirth. Of new life. And for me, a personal sign: confirmation that our loved ones are always with us. Ready to sit in ceremony. Ready to guide us into our next layer of understanding.

Thank you, Mushroom Medicine.
Thank you, Dad.
Thank you, precious, messy, abundant, heartbreaking, soul-stretching Life.

I will carry this experience with me through eternity.
As a personal blessing.
And as a reminder of my responsibility.

To keep listening.
To keep feeling.
To keep showing up in service of collective healing.

Because this work is not just for the Self.
It reverberates into humanity in ways we may never fully understand.
And while I’ve caught glimmers of that before,
I now know it.
I have it etched in the deepest parts of my soul.

This wasn’t just a journey.
It was a reclamation, a remembering, a homecoming.

To my body.
To the ancestors.
To the feminine.
To the whole.

⸻

To those who held me:

Kara, thank you for planting the seed of intention around contraction and expansion.

Rick, for making me feel so safe to go this deep, and for sending me cosmic breadcrumbs to find in the trip.

Tory, for being the best bathroom guide (the obvious), and truly, for seeing me so clearly. So deeply thankful our paths collided in this way. You are a light.

Michelle, I’m so glad the mushrooms chose us as roommates - what a gift to share space with you and soak in your encouragement, wisdom and validation.

WREN. Oh, Wren. You were an angel and such a sacred part of my experience. Thank you for welcoming me into what felt like a true initiation. Words will never be adequate to express how important you were in my journey. Forever grateful. 

Elizabeth, your songs led me through the depths and back up for a dance party for the soul. Thank you for letting spirit move through your voice.

Hanifa, thank you for your smile, your laughs and your deeply held wisdom that oozes from you so effortlessly. You are magic in human form. 

Eber, my friend, what a treat to receive from your wellspring of gifts! Thank you for sharing so much magic with us, in and out of ceremony.

Micah! I could always count on you to bring the comedic relief in the precise moments it was needed.  Thank you for infusing the space with nurturing energy, it was deeply felt.

Cliff, brother - your wonder lit up the space! Thank you for your energetic “yes.” For the permission to feel it all. You are magnetic!

To my other neighbor, Alex - your energy and presence was powerful. I’m honored to have shared the circle with you.

Brian, such deep respect for you, thank you for the many conversations and for inspiring so many laughs. Grateful to now call you a friend.

Sonja, I will forever twirl a girl who wants to dance! You’ve got stars in your hands!

Laurence, what a guy! You are so much deeper than your magnetic charm, and I’m grateful I got a glimpse into that softer side of you. Thank you for all the laughs, but more importantly - for showing up for yourself and your ladies. You did some big work, brother! Proud of you.

Sherry, soul sister - I feel so effortlessly connected with you.  I’ll cherish our sensory integration as one of my favorite memories from this trip.

Lizzy - Loved connecting with you, from the airport ride to our morning walks, your spirit is light and bright and full of joy! Thanks for offering that to our space.

Myra, you animal! Girl, thank you for bringing your style and your personality to the mountains of Jamaica. You were such a welcome breath of fresh air! Thank you for being authentically you.

Sharon, thank you for feeling so much on behalf of the collective.  May you be abundantly blessed for carrying us in your journey!

Trip, we were rooting for you all week and we will continue rooting for you as you move into this next phase of life.  You deserve the world, thank you for opening up and letting us in. I see you. We see you!

Emma, you gorgeous soul! I deeply empathize with all the loss you’ve carried, and you shine so brightly, sister!

Osiris, thank you for your wisdom and your unique perspective. So much respect for the way you approach this work. You are a teacher, and I’m grateful to have learned from you.

Kris, humbled by your journey and the tenacity and will you exemplified by leaning in to the medicine.

Denis, thank you for sharing space with me for our first ceremony, it was a joy to witness your journey!

Tammy, for the morning walks and invitation to jump in the cool river waters. To live and embody the call for more play.

To the Good Hope staff, for your warm smiles and pure energy that made us all feel so welcomed and at home.

And to the entire Beckley team, near and far, who have made it their life’s work to ensure people have safe access to these sacred medicines. Deep bow. Mahalo. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.