I’m out here in the desert, the echoes of Skooliepalooza fading behind me, with just a couple of days left before I pack up from Tribe Boheme and head out. There’s a stillness in this vast, sandy expanse that’s giving me space to reflect—my cup of cacao steaming beside me, grounding me as I mull over today’s Oracle casting: 39 – Obstruction, with its nudge that the southwest furthers, and 31 – Influence, promising success through perseverance. These readings are weaving into the tapestry of this winter’s journey, one that’s been deeply colored by the practice of Metta, or loving-kindness. It’s like I’m finally seeing a thread that’s been running through my experiences—not just here, but across winters past in places as far-flung as Davos, Switzerland.
Let’s start with the opening of Tribe Boheme. The ecstatic dance kicked things off, sage smoke curling through the air during the smudging ritual. I brought some ceremonial cacao to share, setting up a small altar as I’ve done at gatherings up in the Pacific Northwest. I didn’t see it coming when Barbara quietly pulled me aside after the dance, asking if I’d be comfortable leading a smudging. She’d thought hard about who could hold that space, and somehow, I was the one who came to mind. I felt a quiet honor in that trust, and since the ceremony was all about cleansing and grounding, I instinctively began with a recitation of the Kannon Sutra—something I chant every morning in my private meditation. It felt like the right way to bridge my inner practice with this shared moment.
Obstruction: Unraveling Old Barriers
That Oracle reading of Obstruction keeps tugging at me. The southwest furthers—it’s like a reminder to lean into warmth, into connection, even when old habits block the way. I’ve been noticing these barriers more clearly this winter, especially in moments of vulnerability. Take this one evening at Skooliepalooza during a drum circle. I was dancing, lost in the rhythm, when someone came up behind me and hugged me. It didn’t fully register at the time—just another embrace among many—but the next day, replaying it in my mind, I realized it felt different. It wasn’t just a hug; it was like being held with tenderness. I didn’t even see her face, but my body held onto the sensation.
Then, later, she came by my car, called out to me, and hugged me again. The feeling deepened—especially as she showed me a ring around the sun through her shades, her presence lingering close. By the time we parted, she said she felt so safe she could fall asleep in my hugs, letting her whole body sink into mine with complete trust and vulnerability. My nervous system registered something profound—a safety that let me lower my guard. It’s like our mirror neurons synced, and for a moment, I was fully present with her. Hard to put into words, but it stopped time.
Key observation: I’ve spent years redirecting these kinds of feelings. I can see it now—this subtle heaviness in my heart chakra that, if I let it be, rises to my throat, then between my eyes, and releases as tears. But my instinct, shaped by upbringing, has been to shift focus to the crown chakra, blocking the natural flow. Growing up in Singapore, interactions with my parents were cold, logical—dinner was for debate, not affection. Alena in 2008 and Fatima in 2015 both noticed it when they stayed with me there. That conditioning built walls I’m only now starting to see.
Influence: Metta as a Winter Theme
The second reading, Influence, with its call for perseverance, ties into this shift I’m feeling—from a focus on Prajna (wisdom) to Metta (loving-kindness). I think back to Stacy, the first nomad I met this winter, who invited me to share cacao on Santa Monica Beach. She spoke about Metta meditation, something I’d only briefly encountered during a 10-day Vipassana course in 2017, where my attention was more on Anapana and Vipassana. Her words stuck with me, and now, out here, I’m realizing how much I’ve neglected Metta in my daily practice. This winter’s been about finding balance.
Looking back, I see this theme of Metta weaving through past winters, too—not just here in the desert, but in Davos, Switzerland. Two winters ago, I was at Hans-Martin’s place for a session on benevolence led by Mother Ocean Whitehawk, and another gathering at the Sacred Shell for Kirtan. Three winters back, Chris led a workshop at the House of Psychedelics in Davos, and last year, at the Social Innovation Hub, a healer guided us through breathwork. Each time, I felt that same heaviness in my heart chakra, sometimes leading to tears, though I didn’t connect it to Metta then. In hindsight, whether in Davos or at Skooliepalooza, winter seems to bring this theme of opening the heart. I got lucky this year at Skooliepalooza, too—folks mentioned the energy in previous winters felt erratic, but this time, it was deeply grounded.
Holding Space and Breaking Patterns
With my daughter, who’s seven now, I’m choosing a different path from the one I was raised with. I’m striving to be emotionally present, and in those moments with her, I feel that familiar tension in my heart chakra. I can name it now: it’s love. It’s the raw experience of connection. I’m learning to hold it—not push it away or let it morph into something else—just let it be, let it fade on its own.
A sidenote—I get why I’ve always kept my psilocybin sessions private during solstices and equinoxes. At festivals, whether here or up in Washington and Oregon, I’ve met folks radiating uninhibited affection, often amplified by psilocybin. Through mirror neurons, I feel that warmth, too, and it’s clear why polyamory flourishes in these spaces. But I’ve had to learn to observe, not get swept away. A few years back at a Web3 event, someone offered me a microdose to enhance viewing NFT art. I took it without much thought, and while admiring a piece, someone sat beside me. The warmth in my heart chakra for her was intense, nearly overriding my usual restraint. I had to breathe deep, ground myself, until the sensation passed. Lesson learned: hold space for these feelings, witness them, don’t cling.
Reflections for the day: I think this is what “holding space” means—something I’m exploring as I move through communities, sharing cacao and the mission of restoring the Amazon rainforest. It’s not just being there; it’s suspending my own lens to truly listen when folks share worldviews I can’t immediately relate to. Not arguing, not aligning, just offering full attention. That feels like Metta in its purest form.
The Oracle’s Obstruction points to those inner walls I’ve built, while Influence urges me to keep showing up, to connect. I’m starting to see Metta not just as a practice, but as a way of living—whether I’m reciting the Heart Sutra as Tenshin Roshi advised at Green Gulch, leading a smudging, or simply being with my daughter.
How do you hold space for the heavy, beautiful sensations in your own heart? What barriers do you notice, and where do you feel influence pulling you toward connection? I’m all ears as I prepare to leave this desert behind and carry these insights with me.
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