This afternoon, I asked myself what I do for people. The answer came to me: I garden. I help people bloom and cultivate their consciousness.
Early on, I realized that psychedelic guiding utilizes everything I have ever done and everything I know.
My first job outside of the family business was for a hobby farm down the road in the Connecticut woods. My siblings and I all worked for the Johnstons, mowing their lawns, planting their large garden, pruning their fruit trees, weeding their flower beds, and sorting their recycling (which mainly consisted of one-gallon bottles of vodka). Coby Johnston taught me to listen with stories of her life as a show dancer on cruise ships with her two sisters who were all the same height and weight - five feet tall and 95 lbs. Mr. Johnston taught me to love gardening. After digging up potatoes for a while, he would gesture for me to sit, saying, "Never stand when you can sit, never sit when you can lie," while dragging off his Marlboro and smiling. He taught me to work hard and taught me how to chill, both of which I do in liberally today.
From that point forward, I've had some sort of garden. Plants are inherently optimistic. They are structurally hopeful. They root in the ground and reach up toward the light. When I work with psychedelic clients, I look for dead wood that can be pruned and space to level up - to bloom and access more light. I am not making it happen; rather, I'm adjusting the conditions so their inner design becomes realized.
When I meet with potential clients, I try to sense if I can help. Can I open up more light to them? Can I ground them to gain a more solid connection to the Earth? I look for ways to fertilize their soil and identify dead things attached to their spirits that could be removed.
Guiding is gardening.