The psychedelic renaissance is not just about personal enlightenment or self-improvement—it is an invitation to dive into the depths of our shared human experience.
Dear America,
Picture this: A man who has recently completed his 60th trip around the sun, lying on a comfortable futon on the floor of an idyllic retreat in the mountains, eyes closed and covered by an eyeshade, headphones on, playlist rolling, drifting through the cosmos of his own consciousness. That man was me, and the vessel for my journey: a carefully administered dose of psilocybin mushrooms, part of a guided psychedelic-assisted therapy journey gifted to me by my wife for my birthday. A journey that would alter the course of my life.
I had set an intention for this journey—namely, to go back to my childhood and teenage self and heal their (my) trauma. As the psilocybin’s effects began to manifest, however, I found myself unexpectedly catapulted through time and space. Instead of revisiting scenes from my own life, I was transported to a harrowing moment in 16th-century Lisbon. Before me stood a woman, her face revealing sorrow and resignation. She was one of my Portuguese 12th great-grandmothers, bound to a stake in the square by the River Tagus. The air was thick with tension and the acrid smell of fear.
As the scene unfolded, I remembered the heartbreaking betrayal that led to her predicament, something I had read about while researching my family tree: her own son, barely out of his teens, had denounced her to the Inquisition. This vivid tableau wasn’t merely a history lesson but a visceral encounter with the deep-rooted traumas that have silently shaped my family for centuries. The weight of religious persecution and forced conversions hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of the scars carried through generations.
Overwhelmed by compassion, I felt an irresistible urge to intervene. In this liminal space between past and present, I approached my ancestor. As I embraced her, I sensed a profound transfer of energy—love, understanding, and forgiveness flowed from me, offering her a healing touch that her contemporaries had denied her.
The vision shifted, my ancestor ascended to the sky, and suddenly I found myself in her place, bound to the stake as the executioners prepared to ignite the pyre. In that moment of terror and clarity, I was struck by a realization: my personal quest for healing in my 60s was not an isolated journey. It was intimately connected to a vast, intricate web of cultural heritage, collective memory, and the enduring echoes of ancestral suffering.
This realization cast the entire psychedelic movement in a new light. Far from being a mere tool for individual growth or self-discovery, these substances seemed to offer a gateway to something far more profound. They presented an opportunity to confront and perhaps heal not just our personal wounds, but the deep-seated, collective traumas that have shaped societies and cultures across time.
In the end, I was left with a profound sense of purpose. The psychedelic renaissance, I now understood, was not just about personal enlightenment or self-improvement. It was an invitation to dive into the depths of our shared human experience, to face the shadows that linger in our collective unconscious, and to begin the monumental task of healing wounds that stretch back through countless generations.
Envision a society where confronting our demons isn’t something to be feared but embraced as a path to growth and healing.
But America, here’s the thing: In that moment of being burned at the stake, I found not fear, but release. Not pain, but healing. The mushrooms didn’t erase that history; if anything, they made it more alive for me than any document could. But they also helped me put it into context with how that ancestral trauma affects me today. In the end, I realized that offering forgiveness was a proposition extended not just to my ancestor, but to myself. The flames burned away the pain, shame, and anxiety I had carried around with me since I was a child. It was as if I was burning away the things I no longer needed to hold onto.
Now, I know what you’re thinking (other than, “Are you insane?!”): Am I really suggesting we solve our nation’s mental health crisis with magic mushrooms? That we heal our collective shadows by taking psilocybin or some other psychedelic?
Why not? After all, we’re the nation that looked at the moon and said, “Let’s go!” We’re the dreamers, the innovators, the people who dare to imagine a better world.
So, imagine, if you will, a future where veterans haunted by the specter of war find peace not in a bottle or a pill, but in a guided journey through their own psyche. Picture a world where the weight of depression lifts not through years of talk therapy, but through a profound, perspective-shifting experience.
And consider the mushroom: Have you ever thought about how mushrooms grow? It’s a marvel of nature. From a single spore, invisible to the naked eye, emerges a complex network of mycelium, threading its way through soil and decay, transforming death into life, and popping out of the soil the fruits of its labor. In a way, isn’t that what we’re all trying to do? To take the compost of our lives—the pain, the trauma, the mistakes—and transform it into something beautiful and life-affirming?
Now, I’m not suggesting that psychedelics are a magic wand we can wave to solve all our problems instantly. But they are a tool, a key that can unlock doors in our minds that have been shut for far too long.
What if, America, we’re on the brink of a mental health renaissance? What if the next great frontier isn’t out there in the stars (or on Mars), but inside us, in the vast, unexplored reaches of our consciousness?
I can already hear the naysayers, the voices of caution and conservatism. These are dangerous drugs! What about bad trips? What about addiction? Yes, there are risks. But aren’t there always risks when we push the boundaries of what’s possible? Didn’t they once say flying was too dangerous? Didn’t they say electricity was too unpredictable?
Imagine a future where psychedelic-assisted therapy is as common as antidepressants and SSRIs are today. Picture community centers where trained and certified guides help people navigate their inner landscapes. Envision a society where confronting our demons isn’t something to be feared but embraced as a path to growth and healing.
This future isn’t as far-fetched as it might seem. Already, two states (Oregon and Colorado) and several cities nationwide are decriminalizing natural psychedelics. And Massachusetts, where I live, even has a measure on the November ballot to create a regulated framework for the use of these substances. Research institutions are conducting groundbreaking studies. We stand at a crossroads, America, and the path we choose now will shape the mental health landscape for generations to come.
My experience with psilocybin wasn’t just a trip; it was a healing journey and, coming home, I found not just healing for myself, but a vision for how we might heal our nation.
So, I ask you, America: Are we ready to take this journey together? Are we brave enough to explore the furthest reaches of our minds, to confront our collective trauma, to imagine new ways of healing? I believe we are. After all, at our best that’s who we’ve always been—explorers, dreamers, healers.
The future is knocking, America. All we must do is open the door—Blake’s doors of perception can lead to infinite rooms full of healing and hope.
Abraços America, have a healing journey,
Scott Edward Anderson
Scott Edward Anderson is a long-time contributor to Terrain.org and the award-winning author of six books, including Wine-Dark Sea: New & Selected Poems & Translations, the Nautilus Award-winning Dwelling: An Ecopoem, and Falling Up: A Memoir of Second Chances, which received the Letras Levadas/PEN Açores Award. He divides his time between the Berkshires and his ancestral island in the Azores. You can learn more about him at scottedwardanderson.com and on various social media platforms @greenskeptic.Read additional work by Scott Edward Anderson appearing in Terrain.org: three poems; “Telling Stories to Change the World: Social Entrepreneurship and a Network Proposition,” an article; two poems; two poems; and three poems.
Header photo by Andreas, courtesy Pixabay.
