What Dying Taught Me About Living

My first ketamine therapy session and the unexpected peace of letting go

I recently began a series of ketamine-assisted therapy sessions.

During my very first session today, and as the ketamine took effect, I experienced something incredible. I began to feel myself slowly dissolving, my body, my thoughts, even my identity, blurring into something larger, quieter. It wasn’t frightening. It was peaceful.

I saw myself dying, not in fear or pain, but in the embrace of nature.

That’s right, I don’t think I would ever say this, but I saw myself dying, not in fear or pain, but in the embrace of nature.

There was no resistance, just a sense of surrender, like being carried by a current I could trust.

I watched as I was buried in the earth, and it wasn’t morbid, it was beautiful. Nature wasn’t taking me away. It was taking me back. The soil, the trees, the air, all seemed to welcome me like a long-lost part of themselves. I wasn’t dying. I was returning.

This is what I saw:

In that moment, I realized something profound:

Nature is not separate from us, it is us.

There was love in the roots, in the wind, in the silence. A kind of unconditional, wordless love. One that didn’t need me to earn or achieve it. Just to be.

And then I saw the conflict:

• Time demands speed, productivity, and achievement.

• Nature moves in cycles of stillness and presence.

There’s a tension there, a tension I carry inside me. My ego wants to keep building, doing, proving. But this experience showed me something deeper:

The next chapter of my life is not about building more. It’s about giving more.

About returning to what matters. About loving without pressure. About contributing, not from a place of ego, but from a place of being deeply human.

- Matt Delac

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🎶 A song from my latest album that I listened to right before it happened: