Research assistant at Harvard working on psychedelic research, specifically how psychedelics can help with grief; hosts grief dinner parties, death salons and death cafes, and is writing a memoir about losing her mother and her psychedelic journey. An old friend of Tamir's; they met in a high-school play.
Where it appears 1
Connections
Wrote
Member of
Stories told
- Mother's message: let me go
On her first ayahuasca ceremony, Mia felt her mother tell her 'let me go': stop thinking about what I want and live your life. It was hard because she didn't know who she was outside 'the…
- Calling her partner twenty times
Mia's relationship is securely attached, but if her partner doesn't say goodbye in his usual way and something feels hidden, she might call him 20 times: 'me going from investigator before…
- Angry teen chasing rejection
In high school Mia was furious at her mother for 'giving up' and being 'weak'. Raised by an emotionally shut-down father, she did eight school plays, modeled and went to constant auditions…
- Borrowing death salons from Brooklyn
Mia didn't coin 'death salon': she hit it off with a Brooklyn therapist who co-hosts them, gathering strangers to share grief, book excerpts and poetry. Mia has since moved to Boston to…
- Divorcing couple at grief group
The quietest attendees shock Mia most. People going through divorce have brought their ex-spouse to discuss it together in the group, with tears, screaming and yelling.
- Losing her mother at seven
Mia lost her mother at seven. She doesn't remember her voice, laugh or favorite color and barely knew her, yet still feels a strong, 'spooky' connection to her, which is why she won't tell…
- Rejected agent pitch for psychedelic memoir
Many literary agents resist a book about psychedelics. Mia tells every agent she will never stop, so it's up to them whether to represent her, echoing Paulo Coelho's persistence.
- Called a black cat
Before about 2019, people close to Mia called her defensive and on guard, and a 'black cat'; she hugged in a distant, cold way. She worked deliberately to become the open, safe person…
- Childhood control as coping
From seven to about thirteen, Mia coped with her mother's death by becoming 'incredibly OCD', planning every minute and acting as 'the woman of the house' and master of her domain. Later…
- Mother's clothes left for ten years
Mia's family left her mother's clothes hanging untouched in the closet for at least ten years: 'a physical depiction of grief', honoring her despite knowing she would never come home.
- Newly orphaned adult: want to dance?
When someone arrives saying both parents died tragically and they are now an adult orphan, Mia meets whatever energy they want ('do you want to dance? let's do this') or stays solemn…
- Turning the questions inward at 18
Working with a psychiatrist she finally connected with, Mia stopped trying to figure out why other people were 'stupid and weak' and began asking why she was so angry and controlling, at…
Words spoken
We heal in kind of a field of connection. There's really a field of healing that's created when people share in a group.
We say goodbye to things all the time. Are we choosing that goodbye every time, or are we letting things happen to us? I'm choosing this, and this too I'm also choosing. I'm here and I'm choosing it.
Closure is kind of an illusion, which is a terrible thing to say to some people, but closure is really an illusion. What people are really seeking with closure is the power within to just say, okay, enough, I'm done, I'm putting that to bed.
Curiosity is an ascension from depression. Even if you just have the motivation for one more breath or one more moment, that's better than just being like, I want to end it all.
Grief is crazy making. So is love. Love is crazy making, at the risk of sounding like a pop song.
The best thing that a teacher can do, that has been shared before, these are not my words obviously, is just to lead the student back to themselves.
They don't want to talk about that. It's kind of like puking in public. But I actually think that that is why we need to do it.
Silence still means you're participating, because even if you're just energetically participating, you're still there, you're still present. You don't have to be saying anything to be present.
You can't really outsource your responsibility of your decisions. It's really easy to spot people who don't take responsibility when they say things like, oh, but they would have wanted it. And you say, well yeah, but there is a part of you choosing it too.
We're warring over different things we believe in, and I'm thinking, guys, you're warring over grief. Like what the hell is going on?
Fighting over someone's will is like trying to figure out the mind of somebody who's no longer with us.
We are supposed to know things, but we also need to know that we don't actually know things. Part of knowing is knowing what you don't know.
Are we proving ourselves to other people or are we proving ourselves to the version of us yesterday? Who are we trying to win against? We already know we're a badass. Why do we have to prove it?
Grief is something that I know very well. I've walked with grief as a lifelong companion at this point. Unintentional, unplanned, but so was my mom's death.