There has been recently, a reconsideration of psychedelics as beneficent rather than fearful:
From Michael Pollen in conversation with Kara Swisher:
“Well, I’ve always been interested in the fact that we demonize certain drugs and we celebrate others. In our society, alcohol is legal, and tobacco is legal. And these are two of the most lethal drugs out there. And yet cannabis still is a Schedule I substance, even though it’s been legalized in 18 states….
The voters of Oregon…voted to decriminalize all drugs and specifically voted to legalize psilocybin therapy for anyone who wants it.
It’s an incredible idea.…with psilocybin and MDMA, there’s a lot of very solid research suggesting that these have a place in treatment. So I think it’s partly going to be a question of research…
In many ways, psychedelics is just what the doctor ordered for our screwed up civilization, I mean, in terms of fostering connection between people, making people feel more part of nature… psychedelics are already inclined in that direction.
Yes, I do think you will be able to go to a church at some point and have a psychedelic experience. And this Supreme Court has been so generous in granting religious exemptions to federal laws that I think this is going to be an exploding cigar in the face of Sam Alito when the Church of Lysergic Acid ends up at the Supreme Court. I can’t wait to see what he does.”
from Sway – podcast with Kara Swisher
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This was not always the perception of psychedelics:
It was February 1970.
Don McKinnon Tom Goodwin, and I were sitting in a small coffee café in Rome, near the Vatican.
We had just finished shooting my documentary film on ski racing that had taken us to the ski areas of Europe. Val Gardena, Megeve, St Anton. We had connived to route ourselves through Rome on the way home. It would be interesting to visit Italy.
I finished my third Cappuccino and second croissant. I hadn’t finished the glass of juice. When I pulled out my wallet to pay, I discovered, tucked into a pocket of my wallet, a small broken pill. It was, I remembered, the remains of a tab of Orange Sunshine LSD from one of the Hells Angels, Sweet William, a few months earlier.
Somehow I hadn’t noticed it for the whole trip. Neither apparently had at the numerous customs inspectors
We all looked at each other and, with unspoken agreement, I stirred it into the orange juice and we each drank two swallows. Nothing happened.
We had no plans for the day, but… “Look the Sistine chapel is right over there“
We crossed the street, none of us had expectations, it was, after all, an old and crushed tab, having lived in my pocket and travelled for miles, passing freely though several borders. No sniffing dogs then.
All was normal, St Peter’s Basilica, the tallest building in Rome, perhaps seemed a bit more grand.
But once inside and walking down the long hallway approach to The Sistine, time began to hesitate. Perspective seemed exaggerated. It became a very, very long hallway, the statuary particularly vivid. It was taking us a long time.
The narrow door entrance into the chapel became a keyhole. We had to squeeze through it. Don thought it was to force us to humble ourselves.
Inside, the space exploded the ceiling undulated like time lapse clouds. The other people seemed to be staring at us as much as the place. Colors became fluorescent. There were a couple of buxom ladies selling Sistine souvenirs and as they turned toward me, my perception of them was suddenly of exploitive grinning carnival hawkers. Two young boys lay on their backs looking up through binoculars. Good idea.
Somehow neither Don, Tom nor I talked to each other, Guess we didn’t trust our shifting perceptions enough to express them.
Angels on the ceiling seemed to descend beckoningly. Sexually. Much more seductive than Michelangelo intended. Or perhaps he did.
Then, as I approached the alter –Michelangelo’s famous Creation of Adam image - I was transfixed. Time stopped again. My vision telescoped to the few square meters depicting the fingers almost touching less than an inch apart. And, were they moving closer? …and closer?? That’s all that existed for me – for few minutes.
We left and moved to Saint Peter's Basilica. It was frighteningly vast – a universe of its own. Passing by the Pieta statue – I felt an unusual empathy for the Christ figure, not yet risen from the dead. Though I wondered why the Mary figure seemed so young.
After seeing a couple of Popes embalmed in glass coffins, I though it time to move on
As we were leaving, I wondered what my thoughts would have been had I not known I had dropped the LSD… As a lapsed Catholic and ex altar boy, perhaps I would have felt God calling me back and stayed at the Vatican and returned to the faith … learned Latin again.
Wish I would have been with you