Simon Powell - The Psilocybin Solution

These rich shamanic traditions highlight the ultimate way in which the natural environment can inspire an individual, as an intimate link is forged between the human psyche and the transcendental dimension of reality. Once such an emotionally charged shamanic connection has been so established and is reinforced through ritual use of a particular visionary plant, the process will generally cultivate an enduring sense of spirituality as well as a religious cosmology, as is the case surrounding the use of ayahuasca.

It is not surprising then that the profound psychedelic effect of these indigenous plants becomes firmly integrated into native culture, the shamanic knowledge so acquired reaffirming the culture’s identity and the people’s beliefs about the nature of reality. Furthermore, and perhaps of most importance, these plant species aid the practice of healing, whether mental, social, or purely physical. In native societies without a health service or subjugation to pharmaceutical conglomerates, the curative role of the shaman becomes an essential feature of daily life, with natural plant allies being very much a tool of the healing trade.

This kind of spiritual relationship between Homo sapiens and Nature is relatively rare, compared with, say, our close relational links to environmental resources like wood, grain, oil, or gas, yet the natural entheogenic link leaves all others behind in terms of its impact on one’s sense of being. Whereas most of the relational ties that weave us into the living fabric of the biosphere are purely utilitarian in material terms, the resource provided by entheogenic plants operates at a different level, offering us spiritual nourishment, which, although seemingly intangible, can still have a cultural role to play, as witnessed by the important role of the shaman or native healer within aboriginal societies.

Of course, we might object here and assert that we have no need for shamans or entheogens in our technological culture, that we should leave these ostensibly marginal phenomena to those academic anthropologists and ethnobotanists whose vocation it is to gather information on such matters. Indeed, over the past thirty or so years a wealth of research articles have appeared that describe, in quite exacting botanical detail, how various entheogenic concoctions are prepared by the native cultures who still use them. However, it is almost unheard of for the witnessing ethnobotanists or anthropologists to actually experience the visionary brew for themselves. All the surrounding paraphernalia associated with the alchemical preparation might well be attested to right up to the actual implements employed to administer it, yet the principal substance of interest remains exempt from inquiry. This missing factor is what is actually driving the researchers’ interests, namely, the resulting psychological effect of the preparation. After all, if the eventual experience generated by the sacrament were not in any way notable, there would be no shamanic legacy to study.

We can see then that although science might be commended for documenting what is, after all, a fast-disappearing aspect of aboriginal culture, the most important ingredient—the experience—is generally not witnessed. Perhaps this is because ethnobotanists feel there is no scientific banner under which one could reasonably and legitimately go ahead and sample the entheogen in question. But there is. It’s called phenomenology—the study of immediate experience and its implications for the allied science of psychology. To actually personally partake of shamanic substances is to glean an insight into the psychological forces that they set in motion. With an inside view, we might understand more clearly the role of the entheogenic experience within the belief systems of native cultures. More to the point, we might gain valuable insights into the mutable potential of consciousness, thereby allowing us to make intellectual ground in otherwise intractable areas of human inquiry.

The inadequacy of science in the study of entheogens is doubtless bound with the compartmentalization of science into separate disciplines. While it is rare for a scientist in any particular field to stray into another discipline, it can be argued that cross-boundary studies may be fruitful in initiating new insights and broader theories. In the case of entheogenic compounds, if we wish to properly understand the entire complex of the entheogenic experience—whether the experience of a native shaman or the experience of a Western experimenter—then a marriage must perforce be made between psychology, phenomenology, anthropology, and ethnobotany (and even metaphysics) since the subject area can embrace all these fields. If we bear in mind that disciplines like ethnobotany are relatively new anyway, the new discipline that I am envisaging is a distinct possibility. Waxing lyrical, I would call such an enterprise neo-shamanic phenomenology. At least it has an impressive ring to it.

But perhaps we assume that we already know all there is to know about the psychological modus operandi involved in the action of a classic entheogen like psilocybin? Perhaps a complete and satisfactory explanation of the visionary heights of the psilocybin experience has already been delivered by mainstream psychological science, reduced to a handy set of merely s? Alas (or thankfully), this is not the case. Not only are substances like psilocybin relatively new to the West, but also empirical psychological research was effectively curtailed for decades. The Harvard Psilocybin Project merely scratched the surface of the mushroom phenomenon, yet that in itself was enough to cause consternation to the scientific elite. Not to mince words, but psychedelic plants and fungi intimidate the scientific community, not just because of the multifarious disciplines potentially involved but also because their effects are just too controversial to handle. Heads turn away. Cold shoulders are shrugged.

Despite the dangers posed by the use of psychedelic substances—like their capacity to induce intense psychological terror (the so-called “bad trip”)—native cultures have managed to “tame” them through a learned appreciation of their scope of effect. Furthermore, these cultures have acquired a wealth of edifying knowledge along the way. Hence, it is my belief that entheogenic flora and fungi have yet to make their full impact on the Western psyche. The knowledge to be gained from their use relating to our conceptions of reality and our theories about consciousness will prove to be of great value not only on an individual level but on the collective level also. These are reasonable claims since we undoubtedly base our value systems and mass cultural behaviors on our tacit beliefs about the Earth, life, and our role in the whole caboodle. The alluring possibility with the psilocybin experience is that after initiation one can come to view life in a radically different light. One learns what shamans have always known, that Nature is somehow imbued with intelligence, or at least the characteristics of intelligence. The biosphere, or Gaia, suddenly appears to be really alive, with visionary plants and fungi acting as a kind of interface between the wisdom of Nature and the human mind. In this way, an experienced and receptive individual can access transcendental information loaded with cultural and personal significance.

Given their uplifting and profoundly informative properties, psilocybin fungi can be viewed as a potentially symbiotic partner with our species. The symbiosis involves the new range of conception and perception galvanized into operation through the mushroom’s effects and, in return, our propagation of the species or at least action on our part that serves the biosphere’s overall interests in some way. In any case, psilocybin fungi, like other naturally occurring entheogens, are very much with us and here to stay. As far as we know, more people are familiar with the mushroom today than at any other time in history. Indeed, its use has continued to grow in popularity since the 1970s, when books first appeared detailing the various species that could be located in Europe and North America.