Called To Teach

Teacher Cadets

My senior year of high school, I took an elective class called "Teacher Cadets" that was specifically designed for students who knew they wanted to go into education after graduation. Personally, I was 100% certain that I did NOT want to go into education after graduation, but "Teacher Cadets" had a reputation for being a fun class—a coveted and rare thing at Laurens District 55 High School. Part of what made the class so fun was that Teacher Cadets got to leave campus every day for part of the semester to shadow working teachers throughout the county. This presented the opportunity to grab fast food for lunch and get into other unsupervised shenanigans during school hours.

These two things alone made Teacher Cadets an appealing opportunity for me, but honestly, what sold it was the fact that Teacher Cadets was almost always filled with girls. Being as girl-crazy as I was in high school, deciding to join Teacher Cadets was a no-brainer. The experience turned out to be much more enriching than I'd anticipated and ended up being one of my favorite classes ever. It resonated deeply with something inside me, and I must admit that by the end of it, I was genuinely considering becoming a teacher. Unfortunately, I was well aware that a teacher's life was neither glamorous nor well-compensated; and, as my ego told me, I was destined for much more. So, I soon forgot about Teacher Cadets after starting my freshman year of college—though this wasn’t the first time I’d felt called to teach.

Shortly after I turned 11 years old, back in July of 2001, I found myself in a new and scary world. That following September, two planes were flown into the Twin Towers in New York City. Twin Towers where my mother had worked once upon a time. And though I couldn’t quite comprehend the gravity of what was happening, I knew it was bad—bad enough for the entire school to be sent home early, something I’d never experienced before or thought possible. A few months after that, my aunt Tracy suddenly died at the age of 32—completely out of nowhere. It doesn’t need to be said that her sudden death sent a shock through my family, and it also stirred something up within me.

Within weeks of Aunt Tracy’s burial, I told my mother that I felt called to preach. This was very exciting news for my religious family, and my mother set up a meeting with me and our church pastor so I could tell him that I felt called to deliver a word. The details of the conversation are lost on me, but I remember he mentioned something about a process, seminary, and blah, blah, blah—basically a lot of words to say they weren’t just going to let my 11-year-old self step into the pulpit and start preaching just because I felt called to. The fact that they actually wanted to make me work for a position to preach kind of took the wind out of my sails. Plus, puberty was knocking on my door, which meant my desire to serve God was quickly being replaced by a desire to chase girls—and so, I lost interest.

The next time the idea of becoming a teacher was presented to me came shortly after burying my mother in 2016. At that point, I had recently discovered and found much relief and healing in the practice of Yoga. Yoga resonated so deeply within me that I felt compelled to share it with as many people as I could—as many of us do. And like many of us do, I took a Yoga Teacher Training, got certified, and started teaching Yoga. That began a path that has eventually led me—and you—to these words.

I don’t like labels. Labels are useful for objects, and people are not objects. People are multidimensional beings with the capacity to be everything and nothing. So, even though I’d always felt called to teach, I’ve also always felt a resistance to calling myself a “teacher” because in saying what something is, you are also saying what it’s not. To me, being called a teacher meant that I was not a student. That I was perfect or in some position of authority—higher than other people—more knowledgeable. I don’t see myself as perfect, an authority on anything, higher than anyone, or more knowledgeable in any subject besides my Self. Even more, I am an eternal student of life so defining myself as a teacher always felt more like a trap than anything else. And yet, the calling persisted, and I resisted.

The Pittsburgh Federation of Golden Teachers

Psychedelics have played an integral and indivisible role in my healing, growth, and spiritual development. I’ve experimented with psychedelics off and on since 2014 and have primarily had positive, life-changing experiences with them. However, I’ve always been hesitant to share my experiences out of fear of being perceived as "crazy" at best, and "unemployable" at worst. Not only am I a student of life, but I’m also a consciousness researcher, and what psychedelics provide for me is a tool for my research. In the same way that a microbiologist uses a microscope to bring greater visibility to aspects of the outer world that are invisible to the naked eye, psychedelics serve as a microscope for me—one that brings greater visibility to aspects of my inner world that are invisible to my inner eye.

For me, psychedelics are not at all a “party drug”. On the contrary, when I take psychedelics, I’m usually alone, in bed (foreshadowing 👀), eyes closed, on a completely inward odyssey into my own unconscious.

Psychedelics aren’t for everyone, and that’s another reason why I don’t often speak about my experiences with them. I don’t want to encourage, persuade, or influence anyone to try psychedelics just because I’ve had success with them, as not everyone will be able to handle them—quite frankly. The experience of psychedelics can be super intense, especially at higher dosages, and your success or failure with them is directly tied to your capacity to be with intensity.

What I can say for sure is that I did not go out in search of this medicine. The boy pictured in the featured image of this post would have never imagined dabbling in psychedelics—or many of the other things I’ve done. If psychoactive plant medicine has something to teach you, it will find you and nag you until you answer its call. That is precisely what led to my first transformative experience with psilocybin mushrooms.

"Magic" mushrooms come in different strains, and one strain I’ve found particularly helpful in my own healing is endearingly called "Golden Teachers." They have a reputation for offering world-changing life lessons to those who take the sacrament earnestly. Every so often, these Golden Teachers call me to their lap when they have something important to share with me.

Before yesterday, the last time my teachers called me to their lap was back in August of last year. They had been nagging me for some weeks, and I had resisted because, again, my psychedelic trips are always intense. Even though they are usually pleasant, you pretty much have to block off a whole day for the experience and another day to recover and re-integrate with the "real world."

Nonetheless, I eventually conceded and sat in my teacher’s lap. The trip started out like many others—mind-melting, magical, funny, insightful, comforting, relaxing, amazing, intense! A slice of heaven on Earth with intermittent jolts of uncomfortable intensity. But what made this trip different from others I’d done was that, toward the middle of the trip (about three hours in), I felt called by my intuition—or perhaps by these Golden Teachers through my intuition—to go on a quest. A quest to ride my bike down to the river before sunset and place both of my hands in the water.

This was a very unsettling assignment. As I alluded to before, interacting with other people is the last thing I want to do while tripping. That, coupled with the fact that I can barely stand or open my eyes at all for the first hour or two of a trip, made the idea of hopping on my bike and navigating the five-mile path to the river safely seem impossible. But the Golden Teachers gently and patiently insisted, as all great teachers do, and soon I found myself putting on my helmet, hopping on my trusty steed, Luna Pearl, and carefully pedaling toward the river in a familiar but strange world.

I started off very carefully, all the while giving myself a pep talk that I could make it to the river. I knew the route well—I’d taken it dozens of times before. I just needed to go slowly and be careful, and I knew I could make it.

On my way to the river, I made a little pit stop at a park to enjoy the view and wait for a train to pass by. I’d been to this park many times before, and there’s a building behind it that I’d never really paid attention to. But on this day, I felt guided to read the words on this building, and to my surprise, the words read "Pittsburgh Federation of Teachers." I still couldn’t quite place my finger on why, but seeing those words evoked a feeling in me—as if I was destined to read them that day.

The train passed, and I continued on my quest to the river. Long story short, I made it to the river, cheering myself along the whole way. When I got there, I laid on the warm concrete and reached as far down as I could—one arm at a time—to place my hands in the river, just as I’d been asked to. I’m sure I looked as crazy doing it as it probably sounds reading this lol, but after doing so, I felt so accomplished. It wasn’t just about taking a trip to the river while under the influence of a mind-altering substance; it was about trusting myself and my inner guidance to lead me on my journey.

After touching the water, I was guided to bike into downtown Pittsburgh—something I hadn’t done before out of fear of being hit by a car—and eventually found myself under a set of lights in the exact same spot I’d stood almost a year earlier, when I first visited Pittsburgh to decide if it was a place I wanted to live. It was such a full-circle moment for me because the first time I found myself under those lights, I was heartbroken, devastated, in so much pain, alone, without a friend, and struggling to hold onto hope for what was coming in my future.

But this time, under those exact same lights, I felt happy, whole, healed, free, and clear on what I’m meant to do with my life. I looked around and a couple buildings in the Pittsburgh skyline were lit up in a beautiful purple hue. If you know me, you know that purple is my favorite color so this was incredibly meaningful to see. It felt like I’d been initiated, as though the Universe was smiling at me for successfully completing the ceremony and finally, fully embracing my role as a teacher. It was easily one of the most magical moments of my life.

"Wellness Check" or "A Bad Trip" or "Also yes" or "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished"

This post is already getting long, but there’s one more story I’d like to share that I think ties everything together.

Yesterday, my teachers called me to their lap, perhaps for one final time, as I’ve reached another critical juncture on my path and they had some wisdom to share with me. So, as I always do, I meditated, wrote down some intentions and questions I wanted guidance on, turned on some peaceful music, and then laid in my teacher’s lap.

I was having a really, really beautiful, groundbreaking, therapeutic, healing, and enlightening experience that provided me with so many downloads and so much clarity—clarity I’m looking forward to going into detail about in next week’s post. As often happens during experiences with plant medicine, I started feeling an overwhelming amount of gratitude for the people in my life who’ve helped me on my journey. I felt compelled to share my gratitude with one of these people, rather than keeping it to myself.

The problem was, I was still at a point in the experience where I could barely open my eyes or formulate a coherent sentence. So, I had the brilliant idea to record a video instead—talking to this friend and expressing my gratitude to her. And I did. Somehow, I was even able to send it to her, along with seven letters I struggled to form together: “Also yes.” I then rolled over, closed my eyes, and went back inward to focus on my teacher’s instructions.

In my psyched-out mind, I thought my friend would assume that "Also yes" meant, "Also yes, I’m tripping." What I soon, unfortunately, discovered was that to my friend, "Also yes," coupled with an emotional expression of gratitude and the fact that I wasn’t responding to her calls or texts because my phone was on "Do Not Disturb," meant that I was getting ready to end my life, lol.

A couple of hours after sending her that message, I heard an aggressive knock on my door. Now, it’s important to have rules when embarking on a trip with plant medicine, and one of my rules while tripping is: if someone knocks on the door, don’t answer it! (Another one of my rules is: don’t look into mirrors for at least the first few hours.)

So, after the first set of knocks I didn't move, hoping whoever it was would think I wasn't home and then go away. But then, I got another set of knocks and then another set of knocks, each set more aggressive than the set before.

"Fuck! Okay, I've got to answer the door. Maybe it's just my neighbor saying that I'm playing my meditation music too loud.", I thought to myself as I stumbled out of bed and rushed to the door in my underwear—grateful that I was wearing underwear because I rarely do while in bed, lol.

Unfortunately, when I opened my door, my neighbor was not on the other side of it. Instead, my heart dropped as I saw three police officers, none of which looked happy to see me. "Are you Micheal?", one asked without knowing just how difficult of a question that was for me to answer at the time, lol, but I did.

"Can you step outside and answer some questions for us?"

Mind you, I was still at a point in the trip where I could barely keep my eyes open, so to say that I was shook is an understatement. In fact, one of my eyes was still firmly fixed on God, while the other was trying desperately to make and maintain contact with these glowing, authoritative beings.

I struggled to find the words to convince these men that I was not as crazy as I looked while simultaneously reconciling with the fact that internally, I was absolutely as crazy as I looked, lol.

It turns out that my friend who I sent that gratitude message to, assumed the worst, and called the police to do a "wellness check" on me 🤦🏾‍♂️😂

After about a minute of convincing the police officers that I was not a danger to myself or others and had no interest in ending my life, they left, and I breathed the biggest sigh of relief of my life.

It probably goes without saying that this encounter brought an abrupt end to my beautiful trip but as a consolation prize, I got a core memory and a funny story!

It tickles and slightly disturbs me that there's probably body cam footage of me standing in nothing but my underwear, tripping balls, trying to convince the police not to take me to the looney bin. But it was also liberating to be confronted with the potential of losing my freedom for being myself—and instead, feeling more free.

To be honest, I feel like this was just another part of the lesson that my teachers had for me yesterday. That lesson being, there's nothing to hide. For so long I've been scared of sharing this part of myself that society might find unacceptable and being forced to stand in my hallway, in my underwear, in front of three police officers who undoubtedly thought I was crazy, was a lesson from my teachers that there's no need to and no where to hide anymore. And to fully embody my role as a teacher, I have to be prepared to stand naked and speak my truth—despite how crazy it might make me look.

And my truth is, I am crazy. My wisdom is wild. And being crazy and wild is what has set me free and put me in a position to share what I'm sharing with the world.

I tried sanity and conformity for a long time and all it got me was anxiety, depression, confusion, hopelessness, darkness, and despair.

And I refuse to be ashamed for using something as natural and organic as plant medicine to assist in my healing when something like alcohol, which is quite literally toxic, is celebrated on a daily basis.

So, I'd much rather live my life on the edge, be caught tripping in my underwear, and be labeled as 'crazy' forever than conform to what a sick society believes is sane.

I look forward to embarking on this next phase of my journey fully embracing the role as 'teacher' and I really hope that you'll stay with my crazy ass to teach and learn from each other.

With love,

Micheal Sinclair 💜