I once heard someone comment, without personal experience, that psychedelics were like taking a gondola up the mountain instead of hiking it. This choice of metaphor is interesting, because it implies that the value of the journey is defined by the hard work you put in to earn the destination. It also paints psychedelics as a shortcut to happiness, which comes with connotations of cheapened satisfaction, undercut growth, and diminished learning outcomes. Lastly, it misunderstands psychedelics as a vehicle when, in reality, they don’t take you anywhere. They act as a frame that expands your state of consciousness. They allow you to experience foreign realities that lead you to question everything you think you know.
Despite its flaws, there remains some value in this metaphor. Psychedelics don’t just show you what it feels like to be on top of the mountain. They guide you through the rich complexity that makes it so whole and so beautiful. They guide your hands to touch every inch of its sharpness and softness. You are awed by the delicate balance of its ecosystem, the interconnectedness of its soil, its plants, its animals, and the elements that breathe life into it.
You see the cycle of death that moves through its meadows, forests, lakes, animals, insects, and worms. You are swallowed into its earth among the bones of many thousands of creatures that once walked it. You find that it is somehow both fierce and graceful, light and dark, chaotic and organized. You recognize it as a manifested form of the sacred. It speaks to you, whispering that everything you see in its face is a reflection of yours. It is revealing to you your deepest self. You weep at this realization. Finally, the mountain draws you into it and you surrender to its embrace, melting into the unity. This unity is so complete that there are no boundaries left to distinguish what is mountain and what is human. There is only one, and it flows with love.
When the trip is over, you are at the foot of the mountain. Before, maybe all you could see was a pile of rocks, a journey of sweat and suffering that was at best exhausting and at worst impossible. Maybe you would have decided it wasn’t worth a few more inches of horizon. Maybe you would have pushed forcefully toward the top, driven by the idea of conquering its feat and drinking in the satisfaction of arriving at the destination. After psychedelics, you ask yourself why you want to climb it in the first place, and your answer won’t be one of obligation or to prove something of yourself.
You might discover that you are instead driven by love and curiosity. You embark on its trails with care and intention because you fully appreciate the miracle of its existence. You go because you feel at home with the mountain, not just at the top, but in every footstep of its paths, every detail in the bark of its trees, every breath of fresh air. You learn from its slow, steady growth toward the heavens, drawing from the traumatic force of earthquakes, receptive to the carving force of streams and waterfalls. You are humbled by the way it fearlessly yields to death just as it does life. You listen to its hymn of wind whistling through leaves, symphonic bird songs in its branches, thunder in its peaks, and avalanches tearing down its back. This mountain is a friend that loves you unconditionally. You go to immerse yourself in its company and conversation. You sit with it in fulfilling silence. You lie in its tall, swooping grass to watch the stars, wondering about the mysteries of the universe.
Psychedelics are not a shortcut. They show you different ways of being so that you are aware of what is possible for you. With this newfound awareness, you become willing to sacrifice anything and everything necessary to settle into the deep presence of loving consciousness. This does not mean that fear is removed from your path. Your relationship to fear simply changes through understanding how illusory it is as a concept, and how much more you suffer when you let it stop you.
Having met the fearless version of yourself, you will want to confront even the worst among your fears to free yourself from them. You will wilfully walk into the fire and you will burn. It will hurt. You may be asked to sacrifice more than you think you can bear, but only through these sacrifices can you truly see what you are, and that you already have everything you need. You practice letting go of all things that do not serve you. You listen and hear for the right action, and no matter how terrifying it is, you take it. You embark on the darkest of paths with the wisdom that fear cannot touch you. But it will be there, threatening you with death and destruction, screaming at you to quit, and you will feel weak and afraid. It may feel like wandering alone, naked in a dangerous jungle under a harsh black sky. Despite the nerves pinging up your spine, you will walk through it, surrendering to the parts of you that trust that you are protected, supported, and guided. And then you watch as your sacrifices fertilize your ultimate liberation.
Life after psychedelics may be more vigorous than ever before, but you are committed to it because you love yourself and you trust your connection to the One. You know that everything you sacrifice is a gift you give yourself, one that ripples out to touch all of life. You finally realize your true potential, your strength to overcome fear and become who you have always been, the one who has full access to peace and equanimity. The one who heals themselves to heal the collective. The one who radiates with love and serenity. You fall in love with life as you open yourself to receive the full scope of its infinite gift, allowing it to pour into you and flow out of you just like the breath. This is the ultimate contribution we can make to ourselves and the greatest impact we can have to ease the suffering of the world. It is the richest, deepest, most meaningful way to live, moment to moment.
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