In search of bliss

I was in search of bliss.

Not the fleeting kind that burns like paper and leaves you hungover on the bathroom floor.

But the kind that lives in the belly. Warm. Certain. Sacred. I looked for it in every place the world told me it could be found. Stranger’s beds with names I didn’t remember. Loving partners who tried—who tried—but were never enough, because I needed a cathedral and they were a cottage.

I craved the chaos that pretended to be peace. Parties that felt like church. Smoke and sound and serotonin, a blur of color I baptized myself in. I called it god. I called it love.

Because for a moment—I couldn’t feel my body. And not feeling was easier than feeling too much.

I took pills that put me to sleep. Acid that cracked me open like a ribcage. I played chicken with the void, hoping maybe if I got close enough to the edge, I’d find myself.

But the come-down always came. The memory always failed. And I was left again—aching for something I didn’t have the name for. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was me.

And then I found herbs.

Not as an escape, but as a return. Not to check out—but to check in.

That’s where BLISS was born. Out of the wreckage. Out of the ache. An herbal electuary of plants I met on the other side of the fire, plants that whispered, you don’t have to leave your body to feel high.

You don’t have to go missing to feel magic. You don’t have to shatter to taste the divine.

BLISS is the medicine I wish I had when I was searching. It gives you a buzz, yes- a soft bloom in the chest, a widening in the heart, but it keeps you here. Keeps you grounded, sensual, open. No crash. No confusion. No forgetting.

Just presence. Pleasure. Peace. And that is the truest bliss I’ve ever known.

So if you’re where I was- aching, hungry, yearning for something softer than the world has given you- I made this for you.