Last week, I spent about four hours pulling pokey weeds from a nature site where I guide psychedelic journeys. Usually, I prefer untouched natural environments for guiding, but I reserve the right to remove particularly stingy or scratchy weeds to ensure a friendlier, safer, and more enjoyable experience. The last thing my clients need is a rude awakening from a stinging nettle.
I pride myself on my ability to connect with people, so it surprises me when I struggle to connect with someone despite my best efforts. What usually feels effortless and smooth—lovingly syncing up with someone—can sometimes feel pokey.
This weekend, while spending time with one of my husband's old friends, I was again surprised by how hard it can be to connect with someone who feels like a pokey weed. Everything I said seemed to rebound back, sounding egotistical. The story I was telling wasn’t very important or deep to me; usually, it would have been just a simple way to connect. But this time, I sounded like someone seeking credit for knowing famous or important people, which isn't how I see myself.
Earlier that evening, I had taken a mushroom gummy. It wasn’t a lot, but mushrooms can be tricky in social situations as they amplify your ego and allow you to see it from the outside. Interacting with others while observing your ego expand and contract can be confusing.
To this day, I don't know if my husband’s friend thought, “She is full of herself” or “Why does she think she is cool because she used to do yoga and run with so-and-so?” But this is what I imagined he was thinking.
My initial impulse was to set that person aside and continue connecting smoothly and easily with the rest of the people around me. However, this approach can worsen the situation with someone you’re not gelling with, as they may feel neglected and ignored, inflaming their pokes. But it also takes energy and focus to connect with someone who requires more effort.
Do I put on gloves and get into it? Do I practice radical honesty and say, “Everything I’m saying to you sounds egotistical to my ear. Is this in my own head, or are you hearing that too?” Or “Sometimes when I’m talking to you, I feel like you see me as self-aggrandizing. Am I imagining this?” Or “Sometimes I feel like you wonder why people think I’m cool. Is this paranoia?”
Is he a weird mirror, reflecting a true view of myself that I don’t usually see or enjoy? In reality, he is neurodiverse and might not be doing the empathetic things that help others feel good. Or he could be jealous that people like and follow me sometimes. Or maybe he wants more attention from me. I can’t know which, if any, of these thoughts he is having. Regardless, is there something useful for me to see in this weird mirror?
By peering into it, I’ve learned that I care deeply about my community and value my ability to connect with a broad range of fascinating people. I am a curator of brilliant and colorful individuals. I feel better about myself and more grounded in my life when I feel anchored in my community. It’s something I like about myself. My ego appreciates this ability; it makes me feel rich and powerful—rich in love and powerful in my capacity to create peak experiences.
Thank you, pokey weed. I needed that weird mirror.