There’s No Wrong Way To Journey

So will I just be laying there with an eye mask on for 5 hours?

(Well maybe. But probably not.)

This is one of the most common questions I get before a psilocybin session.

And I get it—most of us have seen the same image on repeat: someone lying quietly under a weighted blanket, eye mask on, headphones in, for five uninterrupted hours.

It’s become the default visual for what a “proper” psychedelic journey is supposed to look like.

But here’s the thing:
That’s one version. Not the only one.

There is no right way to journey

Yes, you might feel strongly called to lie down and go inward.
Words often become cumbersome. Communication can feel like trying to describe what falling in love feels like to someone that has never experienced it. Silence becomes soothing. The desire to close your eyes and simply observe is very natural.

But…

Psilocybin is a connector. And sometimes that connection wants to move, speak, cry, stretch, or even laugh.

It’s not unusual for someone to:

  • Talk to themselves

  • Cry deeply or silently

  • Yawn (a lot!)

  • Stretch into what feels good

  • Lay on the ground in new positions

  • Sit up and share something they’re experiencing

  • Laugh until their face hurts, or chuckle to themselves

Sometimes people interact with me directly. Other times, they know I am there but do not interact with me until they need support, or a presence to anchor to.

The playlist

There’s also this idea that you’re supposed to listen to “The Playlist”. And while I absolutely respect the intention behind those curated tracks for the clinical trials held in university hospitals, I’ll be honest…

When I have tried to listen to them in my own journey, I feel agitated and depressed, which is counterproductive to healing…

And that’s the point:
Your journey should feel like yours.
If a particular kind of music doesn’t feel resonant, we don’t use it.
If silence feels better than sound, we honor that.
If movement feels more authentic than stillness, we follow that thread.

The body and psyche already know what they need. We’re not here to perform or follow someone else’s model—we’re here to listen to the voice inside that knows us best.

Journey’s are a personal and an intuitive experience

You can’t get it wrong.
There’s no gold star for being still, or quiet, or deep.
Sometimes the most profound journeys are the ones that unfold in subtle, unpredictable ways.

What matters most is that you feel supported, safe, and free to follow your own inner compass. That’s the space I hold. That’s the invitation this work extends.

So will you be laying there with an eye mask for five hours?

Maybe. But probably not.
And either way, it will be exactly what it needs to be.