A good friend recently told me about her experience taking ayahuasca. For those who are unfamiliar with it, ayahuasca is considered to be one of the most profound psychedelic drugs. She explained that before one takes it, one has to set an intention and make a formal request for what they want out of the experience. I found this really interesting and I pondered what my intention would be if I were to take that drug. Actually, to be honest, I didn’t have to ponder for too long as it arrived quickly. I’d ask, “Show me how to love.”

And I did say it, quite mindfully, in that moment, in my mind. “Show me how to love.”

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A couple weeks ago, I was listening to a song by Robyn that I really like, and I had the thought that I didn’t know any other songs by her! Wondering if I might like her more generally, I picked a random song on Youtube and added it to my playlist.

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Today I worked painting my sister’s hair salon and this morning I downloaded a slew of podcasts so I’d have something to listen to. I painted into the evening, and I decided I’d call it a day when one final podcast finished playing. I chose an interview with Karen Armstrong, an author whose written a number of books that I’ve read and enjoyed. I listened to Karen explain how we learn the concept of God around the time we learn the concept of Santa Claus, and, for many people, their concept of God doesn’t evolve past that childhood understanding. She called this concept of God a “starter kit.” I really liked this idea. It was clicking with me.

I’m not sure what it was about that conversation that hooked me, but there was a deep rumble inside that spread through my stomach and I started to cry very deeply. I had a memory come to mind of a time in 5th or 6th grade when a monk came to our Catholic School and talked to us about becoming priests and nuns. I’m not sure why that memory came up, and I’m not sure what trauma undid itself in me, but holy heck I really cried a lot, and quite an ugly cry with heaving and wailing.

When I finished crying I felt very light, having got that out of me—whatever it was. I don’t understand it even now! I wiped my face dry, switched from the podcast to something lighter, and returned to painting. I put on that new Robyn song from my playlist.

The song was an upbeat dance song and I paid no attention to the lyrics. It was the perfect song for a post-cry moment! I danced along with my paintbrush in hand.

And then it happened again, another rumble in my stomach! This time the tears didn’t arrive immediately, but most assuredly tectonic movement was happening inside. There was a sensation of organs shifting around. It’s like when you feel the tickle in your nose and you know a sneeze is on its way—it was clear something really big was coming.

After a few seconds of waiting, crying and wailing poured out once more. Again, a memory came to mind—I was back in that 5th grade classroom and I saw an image of my 10-year-old self. I was short and my face was round and childish, hairless and feminine. I hated it. I could see the other boys in the room—they towered over me with their pubescent heights and some had mustaches growing in. They looked like men to me! In comparison, I completely hated what I looked like. God, I absolutely hated myself so deeply; such total self-detestation. I felt so unloveable, so disgusting. And, without awareness, I shoved all of that trash deep inside me. And as I cried I could feel it passing out of my body like some kind of thick, black tar had been coating my guts until that minute.

What malignant savings! What poisonous cancer! And for what purpose did it wait so long before exiting? Why’d I carry that around for 27 years? What foul shit.

And again I dried my face, and again felt so light. But this time, I had an immediate understanding for why that energy passed through at that moment. The connection was clear—it was directly tied to the request I had made a couple weeks back— “Show me how to love.”

For one cannot love others fully until one loves oneself. And I have a lot of work to do in this area.

And, getting back to Robyn, I put my headphones back on and hit play. For the first time I listened to the lyrics of the song. And she sang, “tell her that the only way her heart will mend is when she learns to love again.”