• Read time: ~4 minutes
• Musing: astronauts, somanauts, and inner space
• Listen: Sasha Shulgin, 1983
• Join: April 25 retreat + May 2 exhibit

Over the past couple of weeks, something subtle has been moving through my world.

A kind of shared pause.

A collective exhale.

For a brief moment, many of us found ourselves captivated by the language of orbit—liftoff, a release from the pressure of the known atmosphere.

The Artemis program became more than a mission, it became a metaphor.

For exploration.
For who we could be at our best.
For the sense that it’s already closer than we think.

My friend Michelle Nayeli interpreted it as this idea that we’re constantly negotiating between tending the Earth and tending the body… as if they were separate domains, instead of reflections of the same ecology.

And it got me thinking: We already have our own versions of astronauts.

They just don’t always wear suits.

An astronaut travels outward—into space.

But there are other kinds of explorers:

• Somanaut(coined by Gil Hedley) → the body
• Psychonaut → the mind
• Breathnaut(a term I like) → the breath as a gateway
• Chrononaut(borrowed from sci-fi) → time, memory, perception

Different vehicles. Same impulse.

To understand the terrain we inhabit—whether that terrain is planetary, psychological, or cellular.

While many of my friends have been enchanted by lunar explorers, I’ve spent the last three weeks completely absorbed by a different kind of pioneer : Alexander “Sasha” Shulgin.

If astronauts expanded our relationship to outer space, Sasha expanded our relationship to inner space.

But what’s struck me most, revisiting his work now, is the tension he held so clearly:

That the same human intelligence capable of extraordinary harm is also capable of profound care.

Alongside Ann Shulgin, and a dedicated community of brave and compassionate volunteers, he helped shape an entire era of exploration—one that unfolded not in orbit, but in the nervous system—in the depths of our own minds.

Together, they helped bridge chemistry and consciousness in a way that was anything but reckless.

It was relational. Intentional. Deeply human.

In late March, Hanif and I stepped into a new kind of creative orbit ourselves.

We accepted a contract to create a short film for the Shulgin Institute: “From Molecule to Movement”. A visual timeline tracing the history of MDMA—from synthesis to cultural impact to therapeutic legitimacy. It’s part of a larger exhibit opening May 2, and it’s pulled me deep into this lineage. What’s been striking is how much of this story is rooted in California—Bay Area culture, underground networks, quiet revolutions in perception.

If I’m being honest… this is part of what drew me here in the first place, long before I had language for it.

If you’re curious, there’s a talk Sasha gave in 1983—“Why I Do What I Do”—that’s been on repeat in my studio lately. (It pairs especially well with a long walk.)

It holds a striking duality—the same human drive that invents our means of destruction is also capable of creating molecules that expand empathy, connection, and our capacity to care for life itself.

I’ve always been drawn to exploring consciousness in this way.

Movement. Music. Long walks. Altered states. Stillness.
Not as escape—but as access.

If I map it honestly, this relationship has given me:

• a deeper ability to listen inward
• a stronger connection to something larger than myself
• a kind of clarity that makes big visions feel… reachable

(And yes—probably saved me a small fortune in therapy.)

I don’t think these states are exclusive to chemistry.

You can absolutely reach them through meditation. Through breath. Through sustained somatic attention.

But I’ve always resonated more with:

Yes, AND.

Because what I’ve found is this:

Certain experiences introduce the nervous system to a state…

And once the pathway exists, you can return to it.

Through breath.
Through movement.
Through attention.

Novel states create new pathways.
Repetition reinforces them.
Embodiment integrates them.

The boundary between mind, body, and something more expansive starts to feel less like a boundary—and more like a continuum.

Which brings me to something much more grounded, and much closer to home.

And lately, that spirit of exploration has been taking form in a couple of spaces I’d love to share with you.

Dive Into Your Body

April 25 | Cachagua, California

A full-day somatic immersion in a private retreat setting.

This is a space to move, breathe, and settle into something deeper.

Through Qigong, Core Breathwork, somatic exploration, and optional, carefully curated support for exploring expanded states of awareness, we’ll move together through layers of tension, habit, and stored experience—discovering what becomes possible when the body is given time, attention, and space to unwind.

More than a retreat, this day is also an introduction to practices you can carry back into your daily life—as a reset, a refresher, and a reliable way of returning to your body when life pulls you off center.

The container is intentional, unhurried, and limited to a small group.

You’re welcome to arrive with your own intentions—whether for deep rest, emotional release, embodied insight, or the exploration of expanded states of consciousness.

Whatever you bring, there is room for it here.

There are still a few spaces remaining.​
If you’d like to join us, simply reply to this email and I’ll send you the details.

From Molecule to Movement​

Exhibit Opening | May 2 @ the Alembic, Berkeley

If you’re local (or feel like making a trip), the exhibit Hanif and I are working on will be open to the public as well.

If you’d like to be added to our guest list, just hit reply and we’ll take it from there.

Maybe we don’t need to go to space to find something new.

Maybe the most radical exploration is still inward.

Different vehicles. Same journey.

With curiosity, and always a way back into the body,

Domini Anne

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