I just returned from two weeks in the mountains of Kosovo, where I took part in a Permaculture Design Course.
I thought I was going there to learn about soil, plants, and sustainable systems.
But what I found was so much more, it expanded my understanding of life itself.
The experience was nothing short of an initiation.
Second day, the weather shifted dramatically, overnight, we got 30 cm of heavy snow, cutting off power for an entire week.
No Wi-Fi.
No heating except for wood stoves.
No way to charge our devices except with a few solar panels.
And yet, somehow, we managed.
Eighteen of us, from different parts of Europe, grew closer through shared meals, cold mornings, and long evenings of candlelight singing and conversations.
We cooked over the fire, collected snow for water, and used our phones only for essential notes.
In the middle of it all, something quiet and profound happened: I started to feel how deeply we depend on each other and on nature, and how much peace comes from remembering that.
Why I went there
I initially joined this course because I want to build a Holistic Living Centre in Curechiu, my countryside home, a regenerative space for expansion and regeneration. Where soil work, inner work, and community work are not separate, but parts of the same ecosystem of transformation.
A place where people can reconnect with nature, explore inner growth, and experience coherence between the body, the earth, and consciousness.
I went to Kosovo to learn how to design regenerative systems for that land.
But what I didn’t expect was how deeply it would transform my own inner system.
Beyond sustainability, into coherence
Permaculture is often described as a way to create sustainable agriculture.
But the deeper I went, the more I saw that it’s actually about how life organizes itself in harmony.
It’s about observing patterns in nature, cycles of growth and decay, relationships of mutual support, energy that circulates instead of being consumed, and using those patterns to guide how we live.
And that’s when something clicked:
This is exactly what psychedelics reveal, but permaculture helps us embody.
The bridge between psychedelics and permaculture
When we microdose or enter expanded states of consciousness, we remember that we are nature.
We feel our interconnection, our aliveness, our unity with everything.
But what often happens afterward is a kind of disorientation: the old structures of meaning fall apart, and we don’t know how to rebuild them.
That’s where integration begins.
Permaculture gave me a tangible map for it. Its principles, interdependence, regeneration, diversity, rhythm, mirror the laws of consciousness itself.
They show us how to live as if what we saw in the journey is true.
Not by bypassing the material world, but by engaging with it more deeply, intentionally, and tenderly.
Bridging the layers of life
In Kosovo, I saw how everything is connected, micro to macro, inner to outer.
The frozen soil, our community, the solar panels, the rhythm of firewood, all mirrored the same principles that guide a healthy mind and heart.
It helped me see my Ecology of Consciousness model in practice:
- Micro (inner ecosystem): My body adapting, my nervous system learning resilience, my breath slowing down with nature.
- Meso (relationships): Eighteen people co-creating warmth, food, and emotional connection.
- Macro (environment): The land providing, teaching balance and boundaries.
- Meta (spiritual): Feeling part of something larger, not through ideas, but through direct experience of interdependence.
In those moments, meaning was no longer something to think about, it was something to live.
The cycle of integration
Whether through microdosing, breathwork, or soil work, I keep seeing the same pattern that governs both nature and consciousness:
We expand to see the whole,
we contract to embody it,
we act to express it,
and we rest to renew it.
That cyclical process is integration.
It’s the path from expanded awareness → coherence → holistic living.
And perhaps my deepest insight from Kosovo is this:
Psychedelics open the door, but nature shows us how to walk through it.
A living philosophy
Permaculture reminded me that growth doesn’t happen through endless expansion.
Growth happens through rhythm, through cycles of expansion, integration, coherence, and rest.
My gift, and perhaps the work I’m here to continue, is translating this wisdom into lifestyle systems that help people live in harmony with themselves, others, and the planet.
A kind of applied spirituality rooted in natural ecology, physics of consciousness, and the evolution of the soul.
Curechiu will be the soil where this philosophy grows roots. And I can’t wait to share that journey with you.
Reflection Prompt for You
Next time you feel disconnected or scattered after an expanded experience, ask yourself:
It might not rush to fix or control.
It might compost, rest, or slowly reorient toward light.
And maybe that’s exactly the wisdom we need to bring back into our own lives.
