I’ve been regularly exploring psychedelic drugs since I was 14.  Aaaaaaabsolutely love it.  It helps me think outside the box, it makes things that I’m interested in even more interesting, and it allows me to call myself out on my own bullshit.  To sum up the benefits of psychedelics in one sentence: It enhances my life by shifting my perspective.

What’s even more interesting than mushrooms though, is that over the last two months I’ve come to realize how powerfully psychedelic a near-death experience can be.  

Let me backtrack for a second to explain… Two months ago, due to a combination of poor visibility, icy conditions, and my own stupidity, I launched myself off of a cliff while snowboarding in the backcountry.  Luckily, instead of falling all the way down towards my inevitable death, I fell about 30 feet before breaking my face over a tree stump and getting tangled up in a tree.  After a couple minutes of being unconscious (at least that’s what I was told by the people that found me), I came to and was shuttled to the hospital.  I explain the entire situation in greater detail here, in case you’re curious.

The recovery process has been difficult to say the least, but I’m glad to be alive.  I’m also mega grateful for the time I’ve spent away from work, screens, and the rest of life’s bullshit that oftentimes sidetracks us from reflecting on how to live happier, healthier lives.  Over the last 10 weeks of recovery I’ve been thinking about the accident.  A lot.  And similar to a double-tab acid experience, I’ve come across some important realizations.  Realizations that I think should be shared with you, dear internet friend.

At worst, I wish this to be an entertaining peek into the circus of my mind.  At best, I hope this gives you  important insight on how to live a happier existence, without having to go through a near-death experience of your own.  Either way, I present to you the top two lessons that I gleaned from the most potent psychedelic: Near-death experience. 

Love needs to be in free circulation.

I’ve spent the last 7 years of my professional life striving to help others feel and perform better.  It’s unbelievably fun, and is a very, very worthwhile pursuit.  Suffice to say that I do what I do without any expectation of reciprocity.  I do it because quite literally, I can’t think of anything better to do.

After my accident, I was surprised overwhelmed by the love I received.  People messaging, calling, or even visiting with gifts to make sure I was doing okay.  It was really fucking cool to experience firsthand the healing power of love, of knowing that other people care.  It was also interesting to witness my reaction to all the attention – it felt very undeserved, which in many ways was good because it made me antsy to heal up.  It made me want to recover as quickly as possible so that it could be my turn to make sure everyone around me felt okay.

Here’s the lesson:  Love is free, so I should try and keep it in circulation.  It’s the key factor for helping others feel better.  And whether or not it’s deserved, being on the receiving end of love makes me want to give it back so that others might feel better too.  I for one, will be making a concerted effort to keep this wonderfully medicinal thing in circulation.  Love is free to give, and it feels wonderful to receive, so it’s kind of a no brainer to keep it flowing.

Death isn’t scary.  But pain and disappointment are.

Cognitively, I had always thought that I had gotten over the fear of death.  Through copious amounts of meditation, psychedelic drugs, reading, and listening to teachers, philosophers, and religious experts spit existential fire on the topic, I was pretty comfortable with the knowing that death is just another blip on the never-ending happening that is the universe.  That when I die, I simply merge back into the cosmic soup that we’re all swimming in.

… But I didn’t really know that I was over the fear of death.  There’s no way to know until you’re put in a true near-death scenario.  Kind of like how being good at sparring in the gym doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll do well in a real fight.  You don’t know until you’re actually there.  

What a mortifyingly pleasant coincidence then that I found myself in a situation where I was forced to look death straight in the eyes.  And guess what?  The motherfucker wasn’t even that scary.  

I remember free falling to my inevitable doom and thinking to myself, “well, it was a good time while it lasted”.  I certainly wouldn’t do it again, but looking back, it was an [existentially] nice moment.

What wasn’t nice though were the moments before the uncontrolled freefall.  Moments before I was launched off of the cliff, I remember being the most scared I’ve ever been in my life.  The fear of crippling pain and injury, and the fear of heartbroken friends and family members had me absolutely terrified.

So what’s the lesson?  Death shouldn’t be scary.  As a matter of fact, the more time I spend meditating on my inevitable passing, the more I cherish my time alive.  I should strive to live life to the fullest, and rather than being subconsciously led to resist death via unchecked egocentrism (e.g. accruing material possessions, chasing infinite economic growth), I should allow myself to be consciously led to a happier, healthier existence through the fear of being in pain, or the fear of being a shitty friend or family member.  

To close: We’re all just passing the time until our inevitable death, but our time here is short.  Make sure to pass the time in a worthwhile manner.

Pat Koo

BKin, CSCS