EXPER IENCE
On granite ankles, in the lungs of gods Dave King Director of Breaking Convention; director of the Scientific and Medical Network
Psychedelic therapy may have prehistoric roots that perhaps persist in some indigenous cultures where hallucinogenic plants remain central to shamanic rituals. But in the 1960s the use of LSD provoked such sensational headlines and political unease that psychedelics went off the scientific agenda. Now, a more nuanced view is possible, so research banned since the 1970s can explore the impact of the extraordinary altered states of mind that these materials produce. Some studies have shown them to be capable of relieving mental distress in otherwise intractable illnesses including post-traumatic stress disorder, alcoholism and severe depression.
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I have always been fascinated by experiences that push our boundaries of self-understanding. As a child growing up in a family with a suicidally depressed parent, I caught a glimpse of the depth and range of human experience. Later, as a medical anthropology student, I began to understand how our inner worlds reflect our cultural worlds, and how beliefs affect our realities. Now, as a final year graduate medical student, with almost 10 years’ experience organising conferences on psychedelic science, I am delighted to see psychedelic-assisted psychotherapies begin to take their place in contemporary psychiatry.
It was half past nine in the evening and the sun had tumbled down the far side of the mountain; magenta and cinnamon still streaked across the sky in remembrance, blushing the cotton undercarriages that hung high above the cabin. All that could be seen in any direction were the vast, bushy hills, the tallest of which were growing a little bald in their old age. As the light faded, the half-moon to the south became brighter, and the stars slowly recovered their courage. The room was circular and perhaps 20 meters in diameter. Its Celtic stone walls were two feet thick and the shallow conical roof lay upon 12 radial fingers. There were 15 of us inside, in sleeping bags and on mats and rugs, watching Manuel, our maestro, invert viscous bottles of ayahuasca. He sang softly as he unpacked: a pearl-white singing bowl the size of a cauldron; a small apothecary of leaves and powders and liquids; a Peruvian mat; candles; blue plastic bags; and a book of Rumi parables. A tarot card arrived in my lap, followed by a small jar of mapacho – strong tobacco leaves infused in water. I was shown how to take it: a teaspoon is poured into the palm of your hand, and then snorted, the left nostril and then the right. It was sharp and spicy and brought tears to my eyes, along
with a bout of sneezing, but it soon took effect and I felt grounded and clear-headed. In turn, each of us introduced ourselves and explained why we had come, and what we hoped to work on. This was the part of the ceremony known as ‘intention-sharing’; it would help guide our experiences and put them into context. We also held up the tarot card that we had received and discussed any meaning it had for us. I had not planned to go into much detail concerning my intentions for the experience, but I was caught off guard by the pertinence of my card, and I ended up sharing the whole story. My card showed a woman in a dark and cloudy world, devoid of colour and hope. In the centre of the card there was a window to a different world, one of light and healing. The description explained that this woman had been trapped in the colourless world for too long, and that she was finally overcoming procrastination by crossing the veil. This was very reminiscent of my mother, who had recently taken her life after a long battle with bi-polar. Once the whole group had shared what they wanted to share, I watched our maestro open the cap of one of the bottles. He blew rhythmically
© Journal of holistic healthcare
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Volume 15 Issue 2 Summer 2018
