A Spiritual Journey Through the Psychedelic Mind
From Leary’s rebellion to microdosing at 70, I explore the spiritual, cultural, and philosophical power of LSD—not as a drug, but as a lens to question reality.
Disclaimer: The content presented in the following post is intended solely for informational and educational purposes. It is not, under any circumstances, an endorsement or encouragement for anyone to experiment with LSD or any other substance. The discussion aims to explore historical, political, cultural, and philosophical perspectives on the topic, and should not be interpreted as medical, psychological, or legal advice. The use of psychedelics carries significant risks, and individuals should be fully aware of the potential physical, mental, and legal consequences. Always consult with a qualified healthcare professional before making any decisions regarding substance use.
I felt compelled to include that disclaimer, however, for me—and many others—LSD was a positive, learning experience. Dr. Leary and his followers pushed the spiritual side of the drug, but let’s be honest—most people were more interested in getting high than reaching enlightenment.
“Turn on, tune in, drop out.” Timothy Leary’s infamous words still echo in the air like the ringing of some cosmic gong, a call to arms—or maybe a call to surrender—to the chaotic beauty of existence. LSD, that tiny, potent tab of mind-altering wonder, isn’t just a chemical; it’s a portal, a shimmering key to the universe within.
For decades, the powers that be—governments, churches, Jack Webb on “Dragnet,” and school boards—have warned us of the dangers, the madness, the irreversible plunge into oblivion. And sure, LSD can be terrifying, no doubt. But let’s be honest: what’s more terrifying than waking up every day in a world where reality is dictated by an orange haired fascist, algorithms, news cycles, and corporate overlords who want you to work, consume, and die quietly? LSD is dangerous, they say—but dangerous to whom?
To the individual, or to the existing order, which today means, total chaos.
Chaos is the Key, Not the Enemy
The human brain is a swirling maelstrom of chaotic impulses and intricate neural pathways. It’s not designed to sit still, obediently absorbing the day’s headlines and believing everything it’s told. LSD doesn’t destroy the mind—it reveals it. The swirling fractals, the melting walls, the feeling that time itself is just a joke—these aren’t hallucinations; they’re glimpses of the deeper order beneath the nonsense we call everyday life.
And that’s where the fear comes in.
Order is comfortable. Structure is safe. Religion, government, media—these institutions exist to wrap our unpredictable, free-thinking brains in a cozy blanket of illusion. They tell us who we are, what we should want, how to behave. But LSD? LSD rips the damn blanket off and tosses it into the psychedelic fire, leaving you naked and shivering in the cosmic wind, staring into the void. And guess what?
The void stares back.
But here’s the thing—they don’t want you to know that the void is actually friendly. It’s full of infinite possibilities. You see, chaos isn’t the enemy; it’s the greatest creative force in the universe. LSD teaches us that, if we’re willing to listen.
Socrates, McLuhan, and the Art of Questioning Reality
Plato’s old drinking buddy Socrates had it right all along—know thyself. LSD doesn’t hand you a neat little answer wrapped in a bow; it forces you to ask questions you never considered before. Who am I? Why am I here? What does it mean to truly experience? It’s the rebel’s elixir—a molecular middle finger raised high at the powers that be.
Marshall McLuhan, the media prophet, knew something about LSD without ever dropping acid. The medium is the message, he said, and baby, LSD is the medium. It hijacks your perception, scrambles the default settings, and forces you to engage with reality on your own terms.
But that’s where the challenge lies—taking control of your own mental programming. In an era where our brains are flooded with digital stimulation, social media dopamine hits, and endless distractions, LSD offers a stark alternative: unplug, reset, and rewrite your own code. If we’re not actively shaping our thoughts, then someone else is doing it for us. LSD breaks the cycle, even if only for a few hours. It’s a moment of liberation—a cosmic reboot.
The Experience: A Journey into the Self
Dropping acid isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s not a game. It’s not a party trick. It’s a journey—a shamanic voyage through the caverns of your subconscious, where forgotten fears, unresolved traumas, and buried dreams bubble to the surface in kaleidoscopic glory.
Picture this: You’re lying on your back, staring at the ceiling, which is now breathing gently, a living, pulsating canvas of color. The boundaries between you and everything else blur—there’s no “you” anymore, just patterns, waves, vibrations. You are the music. You are the room. You are the universe unfolding in real-time, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.
And that’s the beauty of it. LSD doesn’t just give you what you want—it gives you what you need.
Ram Dass (formerly Harvard psychologist Dr. Richard Alpert) learned this the hard way. After years of academic rigor and intellectual posturing, LSD shattered his reality, showed him the limits of his Western mind, and sent him running to India to seek deeper truth. His guru laughed at the tiny white pills, suggesting that true enlightenment didn’t come from chemicals, but from surrender. But make no mistake—without LSD, Ram Dass would never have gotten there in the first place.
The psychedelic experience is a tool, not a destination. It cracks open the door, but you have to walk through it yourself.
Bad Trips and the Dark Side of the Psychedelic Revolution
Of course, not every journey is all rainbows and cosmic love. The bad trip is a rite of passage, a brutal teacher that spares no one. The mind can be a scary place, full of skeletons waiting to leap out of the closet and whisper your deepest fears into your ear. LSD doesn’t create these demons; it just shines a neon spotlight on them.
Some people, like Rhonda—the girl who ended up in a psychiatric ward—don’t come back quite the same. Some see things they wish they hadn’t. Others, like the unfortunate soul who thought he was an orange, realize too late that they weren’t ready to peel back the layers.
The lesson? Respect the medicine. LSD is not a toy; it’s a mirror, and if you’re not prepared to face your reflection, you might not like what you see.
Technology, Media, and the New Global Consciousness
In the digital age, LSD’s message is more important than ever. The idea of a “global village,” as McLuhan predicted, is now our reality. We’re all connected—whether we like it or not—through invisible signals, endless data streams, and digital frequencies that bind us together in an electric web of consciousness.
LSD teaches us to step back, zoom out, and see the patterns—the way social media feeds our egos, the way news cycles manipulate our fears, the way governments and corporations steer the collective dream. But it also shows us a way forward—a vision of humanity communicating beyond language and borders, using waves, sounds, and light to create a new form of unity.
Imagine a world where instead of being passive consumers, we’re active creators—harnessing the power of photons, electrons, and vibrations to shape our own reality.
The Future: Dropping Out or Plugging In?
So where do we go from here? LSD isn’t about escaping reality; it’s about re-engaging with it on your own terms. You don’t have to quit your job and start a commune in the woods (unless that’s your vibe). You can take what you’ve learned and integrate it into your daily life—living with more intention, questioning everything, and recognizing that you have more control than you think.
The revolution isn’t about rejecting society; it’s about hacking it. And LSD? LSD is the backdoor into the mainframe.
It’s about balance—embracing both the digital and the divine, the structured and the chaotic. We can’t all be Timothy Leary, bouncing from prison to podium, evangelizing acid to the masses. But we can take his message and make it our own.
Take control of your mind, question authority,
and don’t be afraid to think differently.
In the end, the greatest spiritual tool isn’t LSD itself. It’s the willingness to embrace the unknown. To stand at the edge of the abyss, look into the swirling chaos of your own mind, and whisper, “I’m ready.”
Acid as we called it way back when, is getting scarce these days—tougher to track down than an ethical Republican. But Psilocybin, aka magic mushrooms? They’re having a full-blown renaissance. Legal in Portland, sold over the counter like gummy vitamins, and riding high on a wave of psychedelic revival. For centuries, shamans, mystics, and wild-eyed visionaries have tapped into their cosmic circuitry, decoding the universe one trip at a time. Now, the modern world is finally catching up—one spore at a time.
LSD (lysergic acid diethylamide) is currently being investigated for its potential therapeutic applications in psychiatry. While not yet approved for clinical use, recent studies have explored its efficacy in treating various mental health conditions:
Research has indicated that LSD-assisted therapy may help reduce symptoms of anxiety and depression, particularly in patients with life-threatening illnesses. A study published in the Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease found that LSD-assisted psychotherapy led to significant reductions in anxiety among participants.
Preliminary research suggests that LSD, in conjunction with psychotherapy, might aid in processing traumatic memories and reducing PTSD symptoms. However, more rigorous studies are needed to establish its safety and efficacy in this context.
Some studies from the 1960s and recent pilot studies have explored LSD’s potential in treating substance use disorders, such as alcoholism. A meta-analysis in the Journal of Psychopharmacology reported that a single dose of LSD, combined with therapy, was associated with reduced alcohol misuse.
It’s important to note that while these findings are promising, LSD remains a Schedule I controlled substance in many countries, including the United States, indicating it is currently not approved for medical use and has a high potential for abuse. Ongoing clinical trials aim to further understand its therapeutic potential and safety profile.
Individuals should not attempt to self-medicate with LSD, as unsupervised use can lead to adverse psychological effects.
If you or someone you know is considering psychedelic-assisted therapy, it’s crucial to consult with qualified healthcare professionals and consider participation in approved clinical trials.
Postscript: For my 70th birthday six years ago, I took a microdose of LSD—and loved it. On a potency scale of 1 to 100, it was about a five. No intense effects, no wild visuals—just a subtle shift in sensory perception, like the world had turned up the contrast ever so slightly.
And, how timely, from the national newspaper of record, New York Times:
How the American Right Learned to Love Psychedelics
Until we meet again, let your conscience be your guide.
Bret, will you quit telepath-ing me? I feel like you've been inside my head. All my formative psychedelic trips occurred in my adolescence. They were powerful, guiding, and changed me forever. There were some thrills and some spills. 'course there's cannabis which can be plenty sackadelic.
Can't say I agree with you on this one having been hospitalized with a bummer trip (my last one) for nearly a week because nothing could bring me down.
The police brought me to the hospital and I got stuck with a huge bill which I fought, not only because they could not help me (I suspected some of the drugs they gave me to bring me down exacerbated the situation), but also because I had not consented to being there.
I understand your disqualifiers are there for a reason, and that is the responsible thing to do, but I have to say, even the trips I had before the total bummer were not as enlightening as purported to be. Groovy, yea, but I had more enlightening experience on peyote, and I had a former schoolmate (Westlake School for Girls), Diane Linkletter, whose suicide was attributed to LSD.
Still, I have often read that using psychedelics in a controlled environment, as you suggest, has the potential to augment mental health care in significant ways. But in the end, I think Timothy Leary did more harm than good.