I’m sitting here with a cup of cacao, letting its warmth anchor me as I process the storm of insights from my recent Psilocybin session and the Oracle casting of Hexagram 23—Splitting Apart. The judgment, “It does not further one to go anywhere,” mirrors the stagnation I’ve felt, the lack of drive for material pursuits. But that session in the desert shattered something open—rage, raw and primal, but also a strength I’ve long denied. And now, it’s connecting to a message from my first cacao ceremony years ago: “Honor your roots.” It’s taken me until now to grasp it, but I see it clearly—my lineage, my power, and the journey of my ancestors are all part of this unraveling.
Let me start with the session. It was intense—unlike past ones steeped in regret or fear, this took me straight to my reptilian brain stem. Anger, coiled tight for years, exploded through me, fingertips to toes, a guttural growl tearing through the desert silence. I’m glad no one was around to hear it. But after the fury passed, what remained wasn’t just rage—it was vitality, a life force I’d buried, like a butcher setting a blood-stained knife on a Buddhist altar, choosing restraint over chaos, locking away strength with the anger.
Uncovering Primal Strength and Core Energy
This unearthing revealed something I’ve been blind to—something others have seen in me all along. Over the years, many close friends and mentors across personal and professional circles have gravitated toward me, offering support through life’s shifts. Why? It hit me in the desert: this avatar carries a core energy, a deep-seated strength I’ve refused to claim. Other grounded people recognize and resonate with it. It’s primal, unspoken. If you carry this presence, you don’t explain it. It just is.A memory from high school resurfaced—a fight in the boys’ toilet, three guys ganging up on me. Instinct kicked in; my mind blanked, reptilian brain took over, and I went berserk. When I snapped back, two guys were pulling me off the third, his face bloody. I was shaken—but word spread. They couldn’t land a punch; my muscles were like armor. That raw power scared me, so I buried it. Until now.
Boundaries as Order and Protection
This ties into boundaries—something I’ve mulled over through Curse of the Golden Flower, where the emperor says, “Without boundaries, how can there be order under heaven?” I’ve built walls instead of boundaries, suppressing anger to avoid conflict, especially in family dynamics where pandemic-era words cut deep. But walls trap you. Boundaries channel emotions. I see it with my little one, facing bullying at school, struggling to set boundaries due to our family’s taboo on anger. I’ve urged her mom to guide her. She shouldn’t inherit this suppression. I need to embody strength for her.A Timely Guide in Unpacking Ancestral Patterns
During this transition, timely support showed up. A close confidant, trained in psychotherapy, stepped in right when I needed it, helping unpack the ancestral patterns from the session. Through our talks, I’ve traced suppressed rage and strength across generations, framing these not as burdens, but as keys to honoring my roots intentionally.Decision-Making in Uncertainty: The Stomach for Risk and Grit to Endure
Another key trait is making decisions in uncertainty—a hallmark of my lineage. My ancestors crossed oceans without a roadmap, trusting their gut, taking risks, pushing forward when odds looked bleak. I’ve inherited that stomach for risk, that grit. I’ve seen it in my journey—moving to the USA, navigating pivots, building in unfamiliar terrain. There were moments I wanted to fold, but something kept me pushing despite the unknown. That’s the butcher’s resolve—cutting through doubt with action.One such moment was in 2008 during my overland trip from Singapore to London, UK. In Kazakhstan, pre-Internet, no Google Maps, just a guidebook, I faced a choice: head east to Singapore or west toward Europe. Stakes were high—no safety net. Another traveler had a western guidebook; I swapped mine for the east, sealing my fate westward. If I messed up, I’d be stranded with no one to save me. That gamble, fueled by ancestral grit, mirrors the resolve of my family—deciding in uncertainty and soldiering on.
Honoring My Roots: A Lineage of Butchers
Now, the shaman’s message from that first cacao ceremony—“Honor your roots,” conveyed by my guardian spirit—makes sense. I come from a lineage of butchers—a family that crossed from China to Singapore, building networks amidst uncertainty. That grit carried me to the USA. Honoring my roots means embracing this resilience, strength, and stomach for risk—maybe through sharing cacao as grounding. A nightmare after the session woke me at 3 a.m., a call to recognize this lineage I’ve ignored, healing wounds while claiming the butcher’s grit.Reflections for the Day
So, Splitting Apart. It’s breaking open rage, family patterns, and the denial of my lineage’s power. This desert session, high school memory, nightmare, my daughter’s struggle, timely support, and capacity for uncertainty—it’s peeling back layers. I’m seeing rage as vitality, strength to wield with care, and roots as resilience.Here’s what that looks like: stepping into this core energy to protect and lead—guiding my little one, setting boundaries, deciding when the path isn’t clear, maybe spreading cacao’s wisdom. It’s about standing strong in who I am, honoring where I came from.
What about you—have you traced your lineage to uncover unexpected grit? Or faced a moment where you had to decide in uncertainty? I’d love to hear your story.