In Praise of Timothy Leary

I know I have really been harping on LSD and psychedelics recently, so I apologize. However, I have been a bit obsessed from reading How to Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan. I just finished the book yesterday actually. Overall, it was an incredible read. I learned so much, from anecdotal testimony to scientific data to the history of psychedelics politically and culturally. There was one part of the book that rubbed me the wrong way though. The author as well as a lot of the other scientists and researchers he interviewed seemed to be very critical and hostile toward a man who was a pivotal part of the psychedelic movement, Timothy Leary.

Leary is probably one of the most recognized names when it comes to the topic of psychedelics and LSD in particular. I had expected the book to mention him, but was surprised to find harsh judgement rather than admiration and praise. The first I heard of Leary was from the documentary on Netflix called Orange Sunshine. In this documentary I learned about Leary’s role in distributing LSD throughout the country during the 60’s and 70’s. He even went to prison for this valiant effort. (He did escape, but that’s another story.) Based on this, my impression of him was exceptionally positive. To be honest, he was a hero to me. It still nearly brings me to tears when I think about how grateful I am for his efforts to share this incredible drug with the world.

Yet, in Pollan’s book, Leary is primarily vilified for the very acts which led me to hold him in such high regard. It seems a lot of the scientific community largely blame Leary for psychedelic research being restricted. There were a lot of people saying that he was an egomaniac, a publicity hound, etc. They saw him as a narcissist who blew up the legitimate case for psychedelic use with his antics and insistence that everyone deserved to try it.

I was frustrated anytime he was criticized in the book. I can’t say whether or not he was full of himself. Maybe he was. But I don’t think that changes the fact that what he did was, in my opinion, a great gift to society. I doubt I would have ever been able to experience LSD if not for his efforts to get it out of the lab and into the streets. I’m so grateful for the brave proponents of recreational psychedelic use. Even though these substances have a clear medical benefit for a lot of people, I don’t think we should limit it to only clinical settings. Primarily because this is a free country and as one of the people quoted in the book says, “it’s safer than alcohol!” Not only are psychedelics harmless for the majority of the population, they are beneficial for healthy people as well as sick people. I truly believe we have a right as human beings to experience these altered states of consciousness. We have a right to explore our own minds, especially if we aren’t hurting anyone including ourselves.

Finally, toward the end of the book, the disdainful tone toward Leary shifts a bit. There are still plenty of people that respect and admire his contributions to the psychedelic movement. Obviously there was a good chance the government would have restricted psychedelic use and research without Leary’s involvement. After all, psychedelics are a huge threat to capitalism and the blind obedience to authority that supports it. Caffeine and nicotine are drugs too, lest we forget. These are legal and widely accepted as part of a normal day though, because they have a positive effect on productivity and work performance. We’re made to believe laws are made to keep us safe, but more often they are made to keep us in line.

In the last chapter, a few people are willing to concede that if not for Leary, perhaps there wouldn’t be a resurgence and second wave of psychedelic studies. It’s interesting to note that the legal progress that has been made is thanks to the generation who were able to experience the drug for themselves in their youth. You’re more likely to see the potential of these drugs if you have personal knowledge of their effects. A large portion of the recreational experiences of the generation that is now in political power was likely thanks to Leary.

Despite all the people in the psychedelic community who turn their noses up at Timothy Leary, he is still a heroic figure in my opinion. He risked everything, his career, his credentials, his reputation, and his freedom in order to “turn on the world” as he likes to put it. I am certain that I have him to thank for the transcendence I have been able to experience through LSD. I am eternally grateful for what this man has done for, not only me personally, but for the whole world.

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Lessons in LSD

On Labor Day, after spending the morning hiking through beautiful new woodland areas and visiting my grandmother, my boyfriend and I decided to spend the last several hours of his visit on acid. I’ve been so eager to have another trip since I’ve been reading about psychedelics for the past few weeks. This time I was determined to take at least as much as I did on my first trip, which was five hits. A lot of the experiences described in the psychedelic studies were due to high doses of the drugs, likely much higher than even what is contained in those five tabs. As summer was beginning to wane, I felt long overdue for a spiritual, transcendent experience. And I was so happy to have my beloved there by my side.

I am always surprised by just how natural the effects of LSD feel. It feels like coming home. It feels far more real than my sober reality ever could. It feels like waking up, cradled in the arms of mother earth, of the universe. Never has the mantra “everything is as it should be” felt so true. Static electricity seems to fill the air, connecting me to everything, supporting me, energizing me.

We spent the first moments of our trip gently stretching on our yoga mats in the sunlit grass. Every sensation seemed amplified and completely new. What a joy to move this miraculous body! How good it feels to explore myself as if for the first time. Every breath was orgasmic. Crisp clean air, expanding my lungs, flooding my blood, my brain, with oxygen. So simple, so satisfying. I doubt I stopped smiling for even a second.

One of the first things I always notice when I trip is my habitual thought patterns. “What’s next?” I’m always asking myself. Planning the next moment, rather than enjoying the one that I’m in. Searching for satisfaction outside of myself instead of inside. There is no judgment muddying this self-reflection, only interest and amusement. How strange it is to not be able to see the perfection of the present while sober. It seems so obvious, so unavoidable on acid. Never has it been more clear that these feelings of ecstasy come from within, that I have the power of happiness inside me always, regardless of my external circumstances.

After reveling in and exploring our own bodies for awhile, we moved inside to explore and enjoy one another. I’ve always cringed at the phrase “making love,” but for the first time in my life, I truly felt that was what we were doing. There was no anxiety, no shame, no hesitation, no expectation, just pure presence, pure love. At times I truly lost myself. There was no separation between our bodies or our souls. As we laid silently in one another’s arms afterward, I felt that no words could accurately express what had just passed between us. Perfection is the only one that comes close. Thankfully, it also felt like no words were needed. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace, joy, and oneness with all the universe. My heart was overflowing with unconditional love for all of existence. It seemed as though we were only given distinct forms in order to experience the miracle of coming together again.

We spent the rest of the evening gathering tomatoes from my garden, making dinner, snuggling, laughing and watching YouTube. At one point we attempted to be creative. I was dying to write. Poetry seemed to be endlessly streaming through my head. However, when I put pen to paper, I couldn’t seem to find the right words. These realizations, the beauty of existence, these transcendental truths were so clear in my mind. Yet there were impossible to express accurately with mere words. Despite my best efforts, psychedelic experiences are largely inexpressible. At best they translate into platitudes and clichés. So here’s a vague representation of what I always come away with:

1. Everything is as it should be.
2. Everything is a cycle, spiraling out endlessly into infinity.
3. I have everything I need inside of myself.
4. Love and laughter are all that matter.
5. We are all one.

These are by no means new ideas. However, the psychedelic experience allows me to perceive and appreciate these truths in a deeper way. This appreciation and poignancy perseveres long after the effects of the drug wear off. I would liken it to splashing your face with water in the morning. It’s a splash of gratitude and energy for the soul. It’s a reminder of who we really are. A confirmation that all is well, that we are exactly where we should be.

Perhaps the most striking and fascinating of the lessons I’ve learned from acid are the idea that everything is a cycle. This can be frustrating, but also quite comforting. It truly gives me the gift of believing that death is not the final ending. There is no ending, only new beginnings. Psychedelics give us something that unfortunately we cannot share with one another through language. It is something, I believe, everyone should experience for themselves. It’s a remedy. It’s a revelation. It’s a rebirth.

LSD & Introspection

This morning I am feeling soft and calm. Last night I had a lovely LSD trip with my boyfriend. It was his first time, and I was honored to be there with him for it. One of the overwhelming aspects of acid that make it so wonderful for me is the way it allows you to witness your own thought processes without judgment. It was even especially interesting this time given that it had only been a week since the last time I tripped. I’m not sure that I’ve ever had two that close together before. It definitely allowed me to gain even deeper insights I feel.

During both trips, I noticed myself getting caught up in thoughts of the future. What should we do next? What will we do after that? It was almost uncomfortable for me to just allow myself to enjoy the present moment for what it is and not worry so much about what comes after. I had to keep reminding myself that it was okay to just be. I needed constant reassurance from myself. I needed to give myself permission to experience the pleasure right in front of me again and again. I also noticed that when I was in the moment and just doing what came naturally to me, I was at ease. I was happy, excited even. However, the moment I began questioning myself and wondering what the person I was with was thinking/feeling, I began to lose that perfect flow state. Things would then get more difficult, even awkward at times.

Now none of these experiences are unique to acid. The psychedelic part was just my ability to witness this behavior within my own mind in such a neutral way. It’s not that I wasn’t able to notice these tendencies before, it’s just that it’s hard not to harshly judge myself for being this way normally. This viscous self-criticism only exacerbates the anxiety and discomfort that I feel. On acid, I was much more easily able to comfort myself and get back to a better head space. I am able to rest in the fact that none of this really matters. Again and again I find myself coming back to the truth that no matter where I am or what I’m doing, everything is as it should be. Everything is okay. I don’t have to do anything or be anything other than what I am. It’s okay to just observe and enjoy.

That’s ultimately all we can do. Our only true purpose here is to experience this magnificent world of ours. Nothing more, nothing less. We are always putting these false restrictions on ourselves and those around us. We tend to close ourselves off to what is when it doesn’t align with what we expect or hope for. On acid I am always open and eager to see what’s in front of me for what it is. I am upbeat and curious, just exploring. Like I mentioned in my other post, this is one of the ways that I’ve always felt similar to my childhood self while tripping.

When we were children, we were all much more open to accepting things the way they are. Because we are still so young and new to the world, we basically just go with whatever is happening around us. We are joyful, curious, and very genuine with ourselves and others. It is only after we begin to grow older that we begin to expect things and people to be a certain way. Inevitably this causes us unnecessary suffering when life doesn’t unfold the way we thought it would.

For me, LSD is like a refresh button for the brain. Even though the hallucinogenic and psychedelic effects are gone by the next day, there is a lingering sense of wellbeing that stays with me. These experiences are a reminder that all is well. They’re a reminder not to take life so seriously. Everything is unfolding exactly as it’s meant to. I don’t have to worry or try to control it. I am just a passenger watching the scenery. I’m not driving the train, I’m not in charge of the other passengers. I am just here to enjoy and to love. And that’s more than enough.

Sitting In the Sun

I can only hope to some day find the same satisfaction of a cat lying in sunbeams as they pour through the window. Even my dog, sweet little oddball that she is, loves basking in that warm glow. They always look so peaceful. You can almost see them savoring each delicious moment as they doze on the edge of consciousness. Perfectly peaceful. Precious angels. If only they could tell me their secret to serenity.

The closest I ever came to this simple bliss was one summer evening at the peak of an acid trip. I forget what my companion was doing at the time. They must have been absorbed in something inside that didn’t interest me. I had decided to go outside just as evening was giving way into another luscious, humid summer night. Summer nights are my favorite. I don’t know what it is. Perhaps they remind me of being a kid, watching fireworks on the 4th or catching lightning bugs with my sister and grandma. Or maybe it’s my teen years, sneaking out to meet friends, having midnight swims, trying my first cigarette as the rain drizzled down lazily, drinking by a fire in a friend’s backyard. There was always a certain excitement saturating summer nights, a sense of danger and adventure. Hedonism and recklessness and youth.

As the sun’s warmth still lingered in the soft air, I went out to use my newly set-up trampoline. I’m certain I would have appeared insane if anyone had been around to witness the sight. A young woman in her mid twenties, alone, at night, laughing her head off while jumping on a trampoline. I have no idea how long I was on that thing, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I felt like a kid again, with all the innocence and sheer joy I once knew.

When I finally got tired of that, I got down and sat breathless on my back porch under the stars. I think back to that moment a lot. Ever since I learned about yoga philosophy, I can’t help but think about it when I trip. It’s always funny to me how simple and true it all feels when I’m in that altered state. I see it all so clearly. It feels like I’ll be able to keep that insight and inner peace with me when I wake up the next morning, but of course I never can.

This evening as I sat there alone, I felt more alive and safe than I ever have before or since. I breathed in the thick air of that summer night slowly and deeply. Enjoying every subtlety of this slight movement as the air passed through my nostrils and expanded my abdomen. Feeling this oxygen infusing me with precious life. In that moment I knew everything I needed to know. There was no grasping or worrying or fear. I was truly at peace with myself and the universe. I knew that I was exactly where I needed to be. I knew that I was one with everything around me. That this whole universe was a part of me and I a part of it. I felt the lines of the self blurring into eternity. Anything that I could ever need or want was already a part of me. It was all so beautiful. I could have sat there, utterly content, forever. Everything is as it should be. Never had these words felt so poignant and true.

If nothing else this experience stands as an example of the power of perspective. Nothing has changed since then except my state of mind. Things that felt so simple then have reassumed their complex and elusive nature. That peace that felt ever-present now escapes me. Even the memory can’t compare to the perfect state I was in that night. My brief moment in the sun has now passed. Yet still, the residue of that moment lingers within me.

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Valentine’s Day

I have had a strange history with Valentine’s Day. For most of my life I was indifferent to it. I did enjoy creating those boxes in class and receiving cards and cookies. Thankfully when I was young, everyone was required to make a card for everyone else. I’m still horrified at the idea that there was a time when unpopular little kids were left empty handed with only the feeling of utter rejection and isolation on this “day of love.”

As I got older, I grew to detest it. I still don’t know if it was just the corniness and commercialism or if it was an attempt to distance myself from the fact that I never had anyone to share my love with. Whatever the reason that began this feeling though, it continued even into the years when I did have a boyfriend. I remember the first year we were together and he bought me a giant bouquet of flowers and had it sent to my classroom. I was humiliated. Red from ear to ear. I had to carry that embarrassing thing around with me the rest of the day. Of course, as far as he ever knew, I loved it.

By our next Valentine’s Day he knew me much better. Instead of a showy display, he got me a box of gourmet vegan chocolates, paid his mother to leave so we’d have the house to ourselves for the night, and presented me with five hits of acid and some ketamine. (I had recently gotten my wisdom teeth removed and raved about how much I enjoyed the laughing gas. He said ketamine was the closest street drug he could find as far as effects go.) To this day, I count that Valentine’s Day among one of the best days of my life.

It is hard to believe that was six or seven years ago now. So much has changed and yet, nothing has. In the years since then, I’ve celebrated Valentine’s Day as my cat’s birthday. (The acid that night inspired me to adopt her. I even named her Lucy.) And I guess that’s just one of the tricky parts about life. The good and the bad are so many thread inextricably woven into the same cloth. To trace along one, you inevitably stumble across the other as well. These precious memories of mine are, for the most part, too painful to recall. What a cruel joke of memory that the past can be soured by the present.

Maybe it is just an art I need to practice more, accepting and honoring those twinges of pain that impinge upon my happy nostalgia. There is beauty and growth that blooms from pain. When you look at a flower garden, you don’t often focus on the filth and rot and decay that has fertilized the soil. The longer I live, the more I come to understand that life is all about focus. It is a blessing to realize this and the fact that attention is a muscle that I can train with practice.

As for today, I will wrap myself in gratitude. Things are not perfect. They have not gone exactly as I would have liked. But so much unexpected beauty and love has come to me regardless. Lucy has truly brought me all the love and joy that a first child should. We know one another, love one another, and have grown with one another. She has been by my side through some of the darkest times in my life. She has been my strength and my purpose when I had nothing else to get me out of bed in the morning.

Today I choose to focus on that marvelous, miraculous bond we share. Today is a day of love. I have all of the love I could ever want or need from Lucy and her sister Sybil. We are a family that transcends species and language through unconditional love. And that is truly something to celebrate.

The Comfort of Not Knowing

If you saw my post yesterday, you already know that I have little to no expectations for the future. I am just trying my best to be grateful for the amount of life I have been given and not worry about the years of growing old that may be lost to me. I’ve always had a hard time imagining myself being old anyway. The thought is pretty unsettling actually. However, obviously I don’t know everything.

I am simply making an educated guess based on all of the information I have available to me. I recognize that there are still things in this existence that I don’t know about or understand. Laugh if you like, but taking LSD has humbled me. It showed me that even when you think you are seeing everything, there are always new perspectives and new discoveries to be made. There is still so much about this life that we do not understand, and most likely never will.

For someone will such a dark outlook on the world and the future, this is a great comfort. Not knowing is something to be grateful for. There are few things more beautiful and enlivening than being surprised. No matter how much you learn or know, this life is always full of surprises. Amongst the monotonous daily drudgery, lurk the most unlikely things.

If I’ve learned anything, the farther in the future something is, the less accurate any predictions you make will be. It’s almost like the butterfly effect played out before our eyes. Small, seemingly insignificant details can snowball into relevant factors for the future in unpredictable ways. Now perhaps this is just a depressed mind grasping for some shred of hope, but even though I’ve lost any expectation that humanity can or will rise to the occasion, I have opened my mind to other (albeit somewhat ridiculous) possibilities.

This strange comfort of “not knowing” struck me one day as I was watching alien conspiracy theories. *Pause for laughter* Yes, I realize how silly that may sound. But hear me out. From a purely mathematical and probability perspective, aliens exist somewhere out there in the vastness of space. This I’ve accepted with not much interest. It doesn’t mean they have or will ever make any kind of contact with us. However, there are a lot of unexplained wonders that exist across the world that some people suspect have alien origins.

Obviously just because something can’t be explained, doesn’t mean we can assign any fanciful explanation we want. But the fact remains, there are quite a lot of things in this world that for the time being we are completely at a loss to explain. Whether that means there are aliens or ghosts or whatever is irrelevant. It simply means we don’t know everything.

Sometimes I like to amuse myself by coming up with outlandish ideas of how the world may not end. Maybe aliens arrive and save us and the planet, maybe something like this pandemic takes out the majority of the population before we have the chance to put the final nail in our environmental coffin, maybe the world governments have some kind of contingency plan that will save us at the last moment, maybe an amazing technology is being invented as we speak that will change everything. It could also very well be something I am entirely unable to imagine. I’ve also learned from taking acid that even our imagination doesn’t define the limits of what is possible.

It seems like most of the population has been continuing on with a foolish sense of assurance due to a vague idea of these ace in the hole possibilities. I’m not among those that always think everything will work out for the best somehow. I don’t believe there is a god up there that has a plan for all of us. I don’t believe humans are some type of miracle of creation or evolution. The universe couldn’t care less whether we exist or not. Despite all of that though, I do accept I don’t know everything. And I am interested to see what surprises are still waiting for me.

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The Psychedelic Experience

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I was watching a docuseries on Netflix the other day that briefly delved into psychedelic drugs. I am always fascinated to learn more about any research being done with them. They didn’t have any information that I hadn’t already heard elsewhere, but did they did refer their viewers to a book written by Timothy Leary, an American psychology and strong proponent of psychedelic drugs. The book is called The Psychedelic Experience and it is essentially a guide book for using LSD and other psychedelic substances. Basically it is intended to help individuals get the most out of these experiences psychologically and even spiritually. I have yet to read through the entirety of the book myself, but I am very eager to complete it. Afterward I plan to use what I learn from it to help myself achieve a profound, transformative trip.

I think anyone that has used LSD would most likely be an advocate for it’s legalization and use. I personally think that everyone should experience this drug at least once in their lifetime. Even without any direction, LSD has produced for me some of the most wonderful and important moments in my entire life. The experience, if done in a comfortable setting among people you trust, has the potential to be indescribable. I like to call it a “mental reset.” When I am feeling particularly downtrodden or hopeless, I’ll plan a day to drop acid. The experience reminds me why this life is so precious. It calms my mind and soul. It brings a contentment that lasts for days or even weeks after.

And this is how I feel after a merely recreational trip. I am so eager to discover what taking LSD with a true intention for the experience will be like. I have been in desperate need a some major change in my life for quite awhile now. I believe this type of spiritually focused psychedelic experience is exactly what I need to help me realign and return to my core values.

In the past, I haven’t much liked taking LSD alone. I know people that prefer it that way, but for me it has always felt somewhat empty, at times even sad. I’ve always felt like the presence of others has heightened the experience. However, for this next trip I plan to embark on, I want to do it alone. I think having a clear intention will allow me to have a deeply meaningful solo trip. I’m hoping to be ready to give it a try either at the very end of this year or the very beginning of the next. The perfect time for a mental reset.

I know most people are hesitant about recommending anything for every person. But that said, I genuinely think that psychedelics are something that every human being should experience for themselves at least once. As long as you are an adult, mentally stable, and have prepared yourself, I think it will be a life-changing experience in the most positive way possible.

Never do anything just because someone else told you to, though. You know yourself and what you’re comfortable with far better than I ever could. This is merely me giving my opinion. If you are interested, however, I highly suggest you read Timothy Leary’s book beforehand. True to his desire to share psychedelics with the world, there is a free PDF version of the book here. I hope at the very least that everyone will learn about these incredible substances and the potential they have for humanity.