Chapter 1 The Return to Myself

Why this book had to be written now. I am sitting here on an island, 3,200 kilometers away from my old life. It is early morning. The air is warm, even now. In the background, the sea whispers softly, and within me there is a mixture of calm, departure, and a feeling I have not sensed for a long time. This deep knowing that I am exactly where I am meant to be — even if my mind could still give a thousand reasons why all of this is madness. Perhaps this is precisely the moment when this book truly begins. Not years ago, when the first ideas emerged. Not in all those moments when I started writing and stopped again. But here. Now. In this state between departure and arrival. Because if I am honest, this book is not only about microdosing. It is about something deeper. About the question of who we really are when everything falls away that we have learned to be. About the quiet place within us that has always known which path is our own — even when the mind was still full of doubt. In recent years, I had moved far away from this place. I functioned, carried responsibility, tried to do everything right. I made decisions that seemed reasonable, yet felt increasingly narrow inside. And somewhere along this path, I lost something that once felt completely natural: the feeling of flow. This deep trust that life is carrying me, even when I do not know where the next step will lead. With the birth of my son, this path quietly disappeared from my life once again. Not through a conscious decision, and not because it did not feel right. Rather, I had arrived in a time shaped by a deep, then still unconscious pressure. Old father themes were moving within me without my awareness. I wanted to do everything right, wanted to be there completely, wanted to hold this family together — carried by a great, silent fear of not being a good father. And with this recognition a few weeks ago, something began to shift. Not only in individual moments, but in the whole experience of living. Decisions felt clearer. Encounters more real. Everyday life lighter. And sometimes something happened that can hardly be explained — those quiet moments in which exactly what is right simply appears. Perhaps this is how the true path reveals itself. Not through grand signs, but through something much quieter. Through a feeling. Through an almost imperceptible pull within. Or through a small being that, without any doubt, simply remains where its heart finds peace — as if its gentle wagging tail had long understood what the mind cannot yet put into words.