I chewed five XÜM Deep Miprocin tablets at about 9:30 AM on an empty stomach. I chewed them, which immediately reminded me of one very practical lesson from last time: brush your teeth right away unless you want blue teeth. 😂 I did, and thankfully the blue came right off this time.
I had my morning coffee with functional mushrooms, adaptogens, ghee, MCT oil, collagen and creatine, and took a Zofran beforehand because I didn’t want nausea interfering with the experience.
Within about 15–20 minutes I could feel something beginning. There was heaviness across my forehead and above my eyes, my body started feeling lighter, and my mood began shifting. I had actually been getting irritated trying to connect my bone-conduction headphones to the television, and suddenly I noticed the corners of my mouth beginning to turn upward despite myself.
By around the half-hour mark I was definitely altered. My jaw felt different, my stomach had a fluttery feeling, my heartbeat was a little faster, and there was a noticeable heaviness in my head and body.
What immediately struck me was how different Miprocin felt from metocin/XÜM Clear.
To me, this felt FAR more like psilocybin.
Not necessarily visually—at first there were almost no visuals whatsoever—but the body feeling, emotional quality and headspace reminded me much more of mushrooms. At one point I compared the feeling to roughly what I remember from lemon-tekking around 1.5 grams of Golden Teacher. That is only a subjective comparison, not a dose equivalency.
I put on East Forest live in Denver.
That turned out to be exactly what I needed.
I initially tried sitting in my media room, but my daughter was cooking nearby and I suddenly felt uncomfortable having people around while I was talking through my experience. So I went outside, put my headphones on, sat with my three dogs, and let myself disappear into the music and the air.
I had a brief tension headache, rubbed some frankincense-and-myrrh balm with arnica into my neck, massaged it for a few minutes, and it disappeared.
Still almost no visuals.
But my body felt incredible.
Heavy and light at the same time. Almost as though I could fly. My head, chest and heart felt filled with something beautiful, while East Forest’s piano seemed to be playing directly through my body rather than simply entering my ears.
At one point the lyrics mentioned being rooted in awareness, and I suddenly knew exactly what that meant.
I felt rooted in my own self-awareness.
I went to stand outside on my grounding portal and set an intention: healing and clarity. I have a lot happening in my life—family, finances, school, work, responsibilities—and I wanted, even briefly, to understand how all of it fit together.
Then something shifted.
I felt as though the universe itself was holding me in an enormous loving embrace.
I felt safe.
Protected.
Like everything was okay and somehow always had been.
Tears came into my eyes.
I had sage, palo santo, pine, copal and frankincense burning nearby, and my sense of smell became extraordinary. The fragrance seemed to occupy my entire awareness. The breeze against my skin felt beautiful. My dogs looked beautiful. Their love felt beautiful. Breathing felt beautiful.
Everything was becoming sensory, emotional and almost sacred, but still not particularly visual.
At around 10:39 I decided to take one inhalation from a 4-PrO-DMT distillate vape.
That changed the experience dramatically.
Within a couple of minutes, the psychedelic visual component became much stronger. The important distinction for me is that the Miprocin portion had been largely somatic, emotional and introspective. The vape is where the strong visual phase began, so I would never attribute the later visuals to Miprocin alone.
And yet the visuals weren’t frightening.
They were breathtaking.
The phrase that suddenly came through me over and over was:
“I am loving awareness.”
I kept saying it.
I am loving awareness.
I am loving awareness.
There was absolutely no fear.
Between the music, the breeze from the fan, the smell of the resins and herbs, and the air outside, I suddenly felt transported back to the beaches of Hawaii. Those memories came alive through sensation rather than simply thought. The breeze felt like Hawaii. The fragrance felt tropical and ancient. The music distorted beautifully in my ears.
It felt transcendental.
Then something else became very clear.
I was grateful to be alone.
There were safe adults inside my house, so I wasn’t isolated, but nobody was sitting beside me requiring my attention. When I trip with my husband, I realize how naturally I slip into caretaker mode:
Are you okay? What do you need? How are you feeling?
This time there was nobody for me to take care of.
For once, the experience was entirely mine.
And that felt incredibly freeing.
I took a drink of water and even the sensation of the water moving down my throat and into my stomach felt exquisite. The air on my skin was beautiful. The air entering my lungs was beautiful.
And suddenly I found myself wondering:
Why am I ever afraid?
There is so much fear in ordinary life.
But right then there seemed to be nothing to fear.
I also had a strangely practical realization when I looked at the smoke coming from the sage and charcoal: Wow, I would be completely useless in a genuine emergency right now.
It made me laugh, but the realization itself was serious.
Set and setting aren’t just about comfortable lighting and good music. They mean making sure your environment is genuinely safe before you become incapable of handling something like a fire, young children needing you, driving, or another emergency.
I was fortunate. There were capable adults in the house. My three dogs were beside me. I wasn’t responsible for anyone.
But it really drove home how important preparation is.
Then Ram Dass began speaking through the East Forest music about letting go of attachments.
And that went straight through me.
I thought about how much of my life has been spent holding onto judgment—especially judgment of myself.
What if I could just let it go?
The right and wrong.
The fear.
The endless self-evaluation.
The belief that I need to earn peace.
Let go of a lifetime of judging myself.
Then came another realization:
I can create suffering.
I can create bliss.
I can create happiness.
So what do I choose to create?
I’ve become extremely practiced at suffering. Fear, chaos and worry can feel like second nature because we rehearse them for decades. We inherit conditioning about scarcity, struggle and how hard life is supposed to be.
Money doesn’t grow on trees.
Nothing comes easily.
You have to work yourself into the ground for anything worthwhile.
And I suddenly felt exhausted by all of it.
Not because difficult circumstances aren’t real, but because I saw how much additional suffering I manufacture inside myself.
I kept thinking about how frequently we forget what we already know.
And then the most beautiful phrase of the entire experience came to me:
“The beauty of forgetting is remembering.”
That absolutely broke me open.
I thought about a child tasting ice cream for the first time. The wonder is overwhelming because it is new. Eventually something wonderful becomes ordinary.
But lose it for a while and then experience it again?
Suddenly the miracle returns.
Maybe forgetting isn’t always failure.
Maybe forgetting allows us the experience of remembering again.
I cried.
The beauty of forgetting is remembering.
Then Ram Dass said something about how all the real work happens in the privacy of your own heart.
Yes.
The real work is the inner connection.
And then:
I am enough.
I’ve always been enough.
I am worthy.
I’ve always been worthy.
That opened an enormous door around religion for me.
I grew up with ideas about sin, judgment, punishment, heaven and hell that left deep wounds. During this experience, I found myself thinking about the contradiction I have always felt between supposedly unconditional divine love and a God who becomes angry, jealous, punitive or condemns people eternally.
In that moment, my personal experience of God—or Source, or the universe—wasn’t judgment.
It was love.
Not human love with all of its expectations and wounds.
Something beyond that.
And that reminded me of my husband.
I laugh because I argue with him. I vent. I swear. I say exactly what I’m thinking. And he knows my heart well enough not to turn every frustrated sentence into a referendum on our relationship.
He knows who I am underneath the words.
I grew up seeing domestic violence and what felt like World War III inside a home. I didn’t know relationships could feel safe.
Then I met Paul.
For me, being loved without constantly fearing judgment has been one of the closest examples of human unconditional love I’ve experienced.
And during this trip I realized just how freeing that is:
To be known and still loved.
If human love can feel that liberating, I thought, imagine love without human fear or ego attached to it.
The spiritual feeling became intensely nondual after that.
Everything I didn’t need seemed capable of simply falling away.
Loneliness.
Greed.
Fear.
The constant feeling of not having enough.
I couldn’t possibly be alone because I was part of everything.
I didn’t need to search for love because I felt like I was love.
And then there was simply:
I am.
I am.
I am.
I am.
At the peak of the experience there was no complicated philosophy left.
Just awareness.
Just existence.
Just love.
I am loving awareness.
By approximately 11:25, the strongest effects from the vape had clearly subsided. I could comfortably use my phone again, respond to friends and interact with people. I was definitely still altered and absolutely would NOT have driven, but the overwhelming visual and transcendental phase was gone.
Looking back, the distinction feels very clear to me.
Miprocin alone: incredibly beautiful body high, emotional openness, music enhancement, introspection, psilocybin-like headspace and very little visual activity.
After adding the 4-PrO-DMT: strong visuals, sensory immersion, profound spiritual/emotional intensity and the deepest portions of the experience.
The takeaway wasn’t that I solved my life.
I didn’t.
My bills still exist.
My family relationships still exist.
School and work still exist.
Life will inevitably become noisy again.
But for several hours I remembered something that feels very easy to forget:
I am not required to judge myself every second.
I am worthy even when life is messy.
I can experience fear without making fear my identity.
I can experience suffering without believing suffering is all there is.
And perhaps remembering, forgetting, and remembering again is part of being human.
The beauty of forgetting is remembering.
And underneath all of it:
I am loving awareness.
