Blog Archives - Psychedelics in Recovery

Talking Recovery, Psychedelics, and Fragile Systems on Modern Psychedelics

Kevin F — Thu, 22 Jan 2026 18:51:02 +0000

Last week, Kevin F, PIR® Board President, had the opportunity to join Joe Dolce for a conversation on his podcast, Modern Psychedelics, which is hosted on his Substack that released the episode today. The podcast takes its name from Joe’s book published last summer, and—true to form—the conversation ranged across history, personal narrative, and the complicated realities of building something new, like Psychedelics in Recovery, in a rapidly shifting landscape.

As tends to happen when speaking publicly about this work, Kevin and Joe covered familiar terrain: how PIR® came into being, the contours of Kevin’s recovery story, and the long-standing (and often misunderstood) relationship between psychedelics and recovery culture—particularly the well-documented use of LSD by Bill Wilson in the 1950s. These topics are not novel to PIR members, but they continue to matter, especially as psychedelic narratives are increasingly flattened into soundbites that obscure nuance, context, and lived experience.

What members of PIR® may appreciate most in the exchange between Kevin and Joe, was the space it allowed for honest conversation about the tensions inherent in service work—especially when that service is directed toward a complex and evolving fellowship. For many of our volunteer service members, growing an organization like PIRⓇ has often felt like “building the plane while it’s taking off”: responding to real needs in real time, navigating ethical and legal uncertainty, and holding responsibility not only for ideas, but for people. That reality is rarely clean, and it resists the kind of certainty that both media cycles and policy debates often demand.

There is an added layer to this conversation that neither Kevin nor Joe could name at the time the episode was being recorded. As they were talking, news was breaking about potential federal funding cuts at SAMHSA that—had they gone through as initially reported—would have sent a significant shockwave through the behavioral health and recovery ecosystem. Thankfully, those cuts did not ultimately materialize. Still, the moment serves as an important backdrop for the themes we discussed: how fragile many of our support systems are, how dependent they remain on political winds, and how quickly stability can feel illusory for people already living close to the edge.

In that light, this conversation feels less like a retrospective and more like a snapshot of a field at a crossroads. Psychedelics are no longer fringe, but the structures meant to hold care, integration, and community have not caught up to the pace of interest or investment. Whether we are talking about mutual-aid fellowships and their organizational service leadership, or public mental health infrastructure, the same question keeps surfacing: how do we grow without losing the human center?

With gratitude to Joe for the chance to explore these questions in a way that honors complexity rather than bypassing it. If you’re interested in the intersections of recovery, psychedelics, history, and systems-level fragility—and in what it actually looks like to steward something

When Community Leads the Science: What New Research Tells Us About Psychedelics and 12-Step Recovery

Kevin F — Sun, 11 Jan 2026 12:51:47 +0000

In November 2025, a peer-reviewed article was published in the Journal of Psychoactive Drugs examining a phenomenon that many in our community have been living for years: the intentional integration of psychedelic experiences with 12-Step recovery. Titled “Psychedelic Augmentation of 12-Step Engagement: A Novel, Accessible Approach to Enhance Community-Based Recovery from Substance Use Disorders,” the study represents one of the first empirical efforts to document this emerging practice in real-world settings.

Importantly, this research did not emerge in a vacuum. Participants were intentionally recruited through a community partner with lived experience—members connected to Psychedelics in Recovery and adjacent 12-Step networks—underscoring a central truth: much of the innovation in recovery is happening outside of clinics, ahead of formal systems, and in response to unmet needs.

Why This Study Matters

The study was small by design. Due to federal research constraints, the final sample included eight individuals in remission from alcohol, opioid, and/or stimulant use disorders. The authors are explicit that the findings are exploratory and not generalizable. But what the study lacks in scale, it makes up for in depth.

Participants described using psychedelics such as psilocybin, ayahuasca, ibogaine, peyote, and others in conjunction with—not instead of—12-Step engagement. All had prior exposure to 12-Step programs. For some, psychedelics helped them finally engage with the Steps after repeated failed attempts. For others, they addressed persistent psychological distress that lingered despite long-term abstinence and diligent program participation.

This distinction matters. The study does not frame psychedelics as a shortcut or replacement for recovery work. Rather, participants consistently emphasized that psychedelics were most helpful when embedded within an existing framework of accountability, integration, and ongoing peer support.

Psychedelics as a Catalyst, Not the Container

One of the most compelling findings was how participants described the synergy between psychedelic experiences and specific 12-Step practices. Psychedelics appeared to facilitate openness to Step 2 (belief in a Higher Power), deepen moral inventory work in Step 4, and enrich contemplative practices aligned with Step 11. Several participants used vivid metaphors: psychedelics as the “engine,” the Steps as the “transmission.”

Equally important, participants were clear about what didn’t work. Prior recreational psychedelic use—absent structure, intention, or integration—was largely described as ineffective for recovery. Frequent or poorly integrated use was seen as destabilizing and, in some cases, as reinforcing addictive patterns. In other words, “set and setting” extended beyond the ceremony itself to include one’s recovery community, living situation, and psychological readiness.

Accessibility and Equity

A central theme in the paper is accessibility. Half of the participants were uninsured. Many contrasted the relative affordability of community-based approaches with the high cost of emerging psychedelic-assisted therapies. Twelve-Step programs, for all their imperfections, remain free, ubiquitous, and lifelong. For participants in this study, that infrastructure provided something clinical models often cannot: continuity.

This is a crucial equity consideration. As psychedelic medicine becomes increasingly medicalized and commercialized, community-based models—however imperfect—may remain the only viable option for many people. The study does not argue that this is ideal. It argues that it is real.

Risks, Tensions, and Honesty

The authors do not minimize risk. Participants reported challenging psychological experiences, one case of transient psychosis following unsupervised high-dose use, and instances of psychedelic misuse—particularly with non-classic substances like MDMA. Tensions with abstinence-oriented norms were also acknowledged. Most participants avoided discussing psychedelic use in traditional 12-Step meetings, relying instead on alternative spaces such as PIR® for honest dialogue.

This mirrors long-standing dynamics around medications for opioid use disorder and highlights a broader truth: recovery is relational. Stigma, secrecy, and fear of exclusion can themselves become risk factors.

Where PIR® Fits In

Psychedelics in Recovery did not set out to prove a model. PIR® emerged to meet people where they already were—navigating recovery, curiosity, skepticism, hope, and risk in equal measure. This study validates that community-based wisdom deserves careful attention, not dismissal or romanticization.

The findings do not offer simple answers. They offer something more valuable: grounded questions for future research, policy, and community practice. How can integration be supported? Who is most at risk? What safeguards matter most outside clinical settings? And how do we honor both recovery principles and evolving therapeutic landscapes?

As the authors conclude, further research is urgently needed. PIR® is proud to have contributed—carefully, ethically, and transparently—to that ongoing conversation.

Researching 12-Step Recovery & Psychedelics: A Call for Participation

Kevin F — Sat, 20 Sep 2025 20:14:15 +0000

Researching 12-Step Recovery and Psychedelics: A Call for Participation

For decades, researchers have struggled to study 12-Step fellowships like Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous. Their commitment to anonymity, decentralized structure, and wariness toward outside involvement—while essential to protecting members—have made formal research difficult. Surveys are rarely sanctioned by the fellowships, and many members are understandably cautious about participating in academic studies that could expose them or misrepresent their experiences.

Yet, despite these challenges, research has slowly emerged demonstrating both the benefits and limitations of 12-Step participation in recovery from substance use disorders. Importantly, it has been the members themselves—those willing to share their experiences confidentially—that have made this possible.

PIR’s Role in Bridging the Gap

At Psychedelics in Recovery (PIR), we know firsthand how powerful it can be to explore the intersection of 12-Step recovery and psychedelic experiences. Our community has been invited to contribute to a handful of carefully designed research projects that honor both the spirit of anonymity and the importance of rigorous data. PIR members have shared their voices in surveys and interviews that are beginning to shape how the wider world understands recovery, spirituality, and healing.

A New Study: Psychedelics 12-Step Recovery Survey

We are excited to share a new opportunity to participate in research led by Dr. Nicky Mehtani at the University of California, San Francisco. This study seeks to learn more about how people combine classic psychedelics (such as psilocybin, LSD, mescaline, DMT, or ibogaine) with engagement in 12-Step recovery programs.

Participation involves a 30-minute confidential survey. Those who provide an email address for follow-up will receive a $20 gift card, and a subset of participants may be invited to a Zoom interview (with a pseudonym, not your real name), which comes with an additional $50 gift card. Importantly, this research is protected by a Certificate of Confidentiality from the National Institutes of Health, which safeguards your privacy.

You can skip any questions you don’t want to answer, and resources are provided if the content feels difficult.

Why This Matters

By participating, you help ensure that the unique experiences of people navigating both psychedelics and 12-Step recovery are represented in the scientific record. These voices are too often missing from mainstream conversations about addiction and healing.

Take Part

If you feel called to contribute, please consider participating:

Click here to take the survey

Together, we can help build understanding, reduce stigma, and expand the conversation around recovery and psychedelics.

2025 Psychedelic Science Conference

d lee — Fri, 09 May 2025 23:54:20 +0000

Join us at the 2025 MAPS Psychedelic Science Conference in Denver!

PIR-FlyerPS2025

Happy Birthday Albert Hofmann!

Dave M — Sun, 12 Jan 2025 02:41:03 +0000

Honoring Albert Hofmann: The Father of LSD and His Legacy in Healing Addiction

Today, we celebrate the birth of Albert Hofmann, born on January 11, 1906—a man whose curiosity and scientific rigor paved the way for a profound shift in our understanding of consciousness, healing, and the human experience. Hofmann, famously known as the “father of LSD,” was a Swiss chemist whose serendipitous discovery of lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) in 1938 catalyzed decades of research into the therapeutic potential of psychedelics. While his contributions extend far beyond any single discovery, his work has had a particularly significant impact on the field of addiction recovery, a connection that deserves recognition on this special day.

A Discovery That Changed the World

Albert Hofmann’s journey with LSD began in the Sandoz Laboratories in Basel, Switzerland, where he synthesized the compound while researching ergot derivatives. It wasn’t until 1943 that he experienced its effects firsthand, an event that he referred to as his “problem child” moment. This initial encounter was a revelation—a glimpse into the uncharted realms of the mind that would ignite global interest in psychedelics. Hofmann’s meticulous documentation of his experiences laid the groundwork for researchers, clinicians, and therapists to explore the potential of these substances as tools for healing and transformation.

The Role of Psychedelics in Addiction Recovery

Addiction, often rooted in trauma, disconnection, and unprocessed emotional pain, thrives on cycles of despair and alienation. Psychedelics, including LSD, have shown remarkable potential in disrupting these cycles by fostering profound states of self-awareness, interconnectedness, and spiritual insight. These substances offer a unique opportunity for individuals to confront the underlying causes of their addiction, often unveiling suppressed memories, emotions, and patterns that fuel destructive behaviors.

Research dating back to the mid-20th century highlights the effectiveness of psychedelics in treating addiction. Studies conducted during the 1950s and 60s demonstrated the efficacy of LSD in addressing alcoholism, with many participants reporting a significant reduction in cravings and an increased sense of purpose. Though this promising research was stifled by prohibitionist policies, the current psychedelic renaissance has reignited interest in these early findings, validating Hofmann’s belief in the therapeutic potential of his “problem child.”

Psychedelics in Recovery Today

Today, Albert Hofmann’s legacy is alive and well in organizations like Psychedelics in Recovery (PIR), which integrate psychedelic-assisted modalities into addiction recovery frameworks. By blending traditional recovery practices with the transformative power of psychedelic experiences, PIR and similar groups honor the spirit of Hofmann’s work. These approaches emphasize the importance of intentionality, set, and setting, ensuring that psychedelic journeys are safe, sacred, and grounded in community support.

Honoring Hofmann’s Vision

Albert Hofmann’s birthday is not just a celebration of a brilliant chemist but a moment to reflect on the transformative power of his legacy. His work invites us to approach psychedelics with humility, curiosity, and respect for their profound capacity to heal. As we navigate the challenges of integrating these substances into mainstream medicine and recovery practices, Hofmann’s visionary insights remind us of the potential for growth, connection, and renewal that lies within each of us.

On this day, let us honor Albert Hofmann by continuing to explore the intersection of science, spirituality, and healing. Whether through advocacy, education, or personal practice, we can carry forward his mission to unlock the healing potential of psychedelics and help those struggling with addiction find their way to recovery and wholeness.

From Spirits to Spirit: Healing Addiction Through the Lessons of A Christmas Carol

d lee — Mon, 23 Dec 2024 13:33:16 +0000

Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, published in 1843, is one of the most beloved and enduring Christmas tales of all time. Written in just six weeks, it has been read by millions and adapted countless times, inspiring generations with its timeless message of redemption, generosity, and the transformative power of the holiday spirit. But for the many readers who follow Ebenezer Scrooge’s journey from miserly isolation to joyful renewal, the story’s final paragraph often passes unnoticed as a simple conclusion.

“He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!”

Hidden in this final line, however, is an unsuspected double entendre that deepens the story’s meaning. While most readers take the “Spirits” to refer to the ghostly figures who visit Scrooge, Dickens also nods to the Victorian era’s association of intoxicating spirits—alcohol—with moral decay and personal ruin. Scrooge’s commitment to the “Total Abstinence Principle” becomes more than just a pledge to avoid ghostly visitations; it mirrors the path of recovery from addiction and trauma, offering a profound lesson in healing and renewal. Let’s delve deeper into this hidden layer of Dickens’ masterpiece and its unexpected connection to the modern journey of recovery.

The Spirits of Addiction: A Life in Chains

Before his encounter with the Spirits, Scrooge’s life was one of isolation, greed, and denial—a grim analogy for the life of someone caught in the grips of addiction. Just as Scrooge refuses to see the suffering around him, addiction blinds us to the harm we cause to ourselves and others. The cold, dark, and joyless existence he leads is the natural outcome of living in denial, much like the desolation that often accompanies active addiction.

The “Spirits” that visit Scrooge can be seen as the inner voices or external interventions that disrupt the cycle of addiction. For someone struggling with addiction, these moments of confrontation—whether through loved ones, treatment programs, or even a rock-bottom experience—force them to face the reality of their condition.

The Ghost of Addiction Past: Facing the Roots

When the Ghost of Christmas Past arrives, Scrooge is taken back to the moments that shaped him—his lonely childhood, the loss of his sister, and the heartbreak that hardened his heart. Similarly, the first step in addiction recovery often involves looking back. Trauma, unmet needs, and unresolved pain often lie at the root of addiction. Revisiting these memories can be deeply painful, but it is also necessary to understand how past wounds fuel present behaviors.

In recovery, this stage is about acknowledgment. We begin to see that our addiction is not a moral failing but a coping mechanism—a way to escape or numb the pain of the past.

The Ghost of Addiction Present: Seeing the Impact

The Ghost of Christmas Present forces Scrooge to witness the immediate consequences of his actions. He sees Bob Cratchit struggling to support his family, Tiny Tim’s fragile health, and the joy he is missing out on by isolating himself. In recovery, this stage involves confronting the damage addiction causes in the present—broken relationships, neglected responsibilities, and the erosion of physical and emotional health.

It is also a moment of awakening. Just as Scrooge sees the warmth and love that exists despite his absence, those in recovery often begin to recognize the potential for joy and connection in their lives, if only they can let go of their destructive habits.

The Ghost of Addiction Yet to Come: Facing the Future

The most sobering moment in Scrooge’s journey comes with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, who shows him the grim reality of his future if he does not change. Alone and unloved, Scrooge sees the inevitable outcome of his choices. For someone in addiction, this is the moment of reckoning—realizing that continued use will lead to loss, despair, and often death.

But this confrontation is also an invitation to change. Just as Scrooge resolves to live differently, those in recovery can choose to rewrite their story. This is the turning point, where the fear of staying the same outweighs the fear of change.

The Awakening: A Life of Recovery

When Scrooge awakens on Christmas morning, he is a transformed man. His joy is infectious, his generosity boundless. He becomes a beacon of love and kindness in his community, living proof that change is possible. For those in recovery, this stage mirrors the experience of living a life of sobriety. It’s not just about abstaining from substances; it’s about actively embracing a life of purpose, connection, and joy.

Scrooge’s transformation reminds us that recovery is a daily practice. To “keep Christmas well” is to embody the principles of love, gratitude, and service—not just during the holidays but every day. This is the gift of recovery: a chance to live fully and authentically, free from the chains of the past.

The Spirit of Recovery

Dickens ends his story with a wish that Scrooge’s transformation may be “truly said of us, and all of us!” Recovery, like Scrooge’s redemption, is a journey available to anyone willing to confront their past, embrace their present, and take responsibility for their future.

This holiday season, may we all find the courage to face our own “Spirits” and choose the path of healing. And as Tiny Tim said, “God bless us, every one!”

The Myth of Thanksgiving and the Psychedelic Renaissance: Bridging Indigenous Traditions, Western Idealism, and a Journey Toward Communion

d lee — Thu, 28 Nov 2024 14:34:37 +0000

Thanksgiving occupies a paradoxical space in American consciousness, its myth obscuring a deeper, more complicated truth. For some, Thanksgiving is a celebration of gratitude and communion; for others, it represents a rewritten history—a narrative built on the erasure of Indigenous suffering and the glorification of traumatic events. Both perspectives are valid, and both can coexist, reflecting the complex nature of trauma itself. Just as Thanksgiving can be both a joyful gathering and a painful reminder, trauma often presents layers of meaning: what is observed on the surface rarely encompasses the full truth of what is felt or remembered beneath. The myth of Thanksgiving reminds us that the stories we tell often conceal as much as they reveal, echoing the hidden depths of personal and collective wounds.

Through the lens of psychedelics, Thanksgiving becomes more than a sanitized myth. It serves as a metaphor for the potential of shared spaces—places where people with diverse experiences, histories, and perspectives meet, grapple with their differences, and strive for healing and understanding. This dynamic echoes not only in the broader cultural discourse but also in how psychedelics are reshaping the landscape of recovery.

Thanksgiving as Myth, Psychedelics as Metaphor

The Thanksgiving story, though flawed, persists because it speaks to a universal human longing: the possibility of connection across divides. Psychedelics amplify this longing, offering a means to transcend barriers of ego, identity, and history. In altered states of consciousness, individuals often experience profound interconnectedness—a dissolution of the separations that divide us from one another and from the world around us.

This sense of communion mirrors the mythic Thanksgiving table, reimagined as a space where reconciliation and shared purpose are possible. While Thanksgiving often obscures the struggles it represents, psychedelics compel us to confront them head-on. They invite us to engage with the painful truths of the past while envisioning a future grounded in empathy, reciprocity, and unity.

Bridging Indigenous Wisdom and Western Science

Indigenous cultures have long used psychedelics as tools for spiritual growth, community bonding, and healing. These practices are rooted in reciprocity—an understanding of one’s relationship with the Earth, others, and the divine. In contrast, Western approaches to psychedelics often focus on individual transformation, scientific validation, and therapeutic outcomes.

The psychedelic renaissance seeks to honor and integrate these traditions, though not without challenges. It’s a delicate balancing act: ensuring respect for Indigenous knowledge while advancing scientific research and accessibility. This merging of paradigms, when approached with care and humility, reflects Thanksgiving’s aspirational ideal—a shared table where differing worldviews enrich one another rather than compete for dominance.

Psychedelics in Recovery: Communion Across Differences

Nowhere is the theme of unity more evident than in the emerging role of psychedelics in recovery. Traditional recovery models have often been rigid, asking participants to adhere to a singular path—whether through spiritual surrender in 12-step programs or clinically structured behavioral therapy. Psychedelics offer a new possibility: a space where diverse recovery styles can coexist and complement one another.

Psychedelics in recovery support groups function as modern-day Thanksgiving tables, gathering people with vastly different experiences, beliefs, and approaches to healing. These groups embrace the multiplicity of recovery paths, blending spirituality, science, and Indigenous practices into a shared framework. Here, a person steeped in 12-step traditions might find common ground with someone pursuing mindfulness-based therapies or Indigenous-inspired ceremonies. The unifying thread is the psychedelic journey itself—a catalyst for breaking down barriers and fostering empathy.

A Communion of Healing

The myth of Thanksgiving invites us to imagine a table where past grievances are set aside for shared gratitude. Psychedelics in recovery transform this myth into action. They create a sacred space where the wounds of the past—personal and collective—are acknowledged and processed, not ignored. They encourage participants to celebrate their differences while seeking common ground, fostering a deep sense of belonging.

By integrating diverse approaches to recovery, psychedelics echo Thanksgiving’s core aspiration: the possibility of communion in the face of division. They remind us that healing isn’t a solitary endeavor but a collective journey. Around the modern Thanksgiving table—or within a psychedelic recovery group—we see a vision of what’s possible when we come together with humility, gratitude, and open hearts.

The Untethered Journey: Mickey’s Story of Recovery and Transformation

d lee — Mon, 25 Nov 2024 01:56:24 +0000

My name is Mickey, and for much of my life, I’ve lived two conflicting realities. On the surface, I was the embodiment of recovery success: sober since the age of 21, a stable career, a family, and decades of commitment to Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). To most, I was living proof that the 12 steps worked, that sobriety could transform a life. But beneath the surface, I carried a silent, gnawing pain—a deep sense of inadequacy, shame, and loneliness that I couldn’t name or escape.

Despite my sobriety, I felt like I was still just surviving, trapped in a cycle of people-pleasing, overworking, and desperately chasing a sense of worthiness that always felt just out of reach. This is the story of how I finally broke free—not by abandoning the principles of AA, but by finding new tools and perspectives through psychedelics that helped me uncover a deeper, more authentic version of myself. It’s a story of holding onto tradition while daring to step into the unknown, of learning to let go, and of discovering that sometimes, the path to healing means unlearning everything you thought you knew.

Inherited Pain: The Weight of Generational Trauma

Recovery didn’t begin with me—it started generations before. My grandmother struggled with what I now understand as anxiety, shame, and guilt. Her life was a meticulous balancing act, her house spotless, her antiques perfectly arranged, but her inner world was chaos. My father carried his own battles, crashing cars, getting into fights, and struggling with addiction. Yet, he made the extraordinary decision, over 50 years ago, to quit drinking and smoking in a single day, becoming a pillar in the local AA community.

I was born into a family of recovery, a lineage of resilience and dysfunction. Yet, as a teenager, I found myself following a familiar path. By 16, I was crashing cars, blacking out, and landing in treatment for the first time. Recovery didn’t stick then, but the seeds were planted.

At 21, after bouncing checks to a lawyer defending me for yet another DWI, I hit rock bottom. My father stepped in, calling me out on my self-destruction. This time, sobriety stuck. I entered AA thinking life as I knew it was over. Yet, as I listened to the promises, I dared to hope that maybe—just maybe—things could get better.

The Success Mask: Sobriety Without Freedom

Sobriety gave me structure. AA taught me how to live, how to work, and how to be dependable. I got a degree, a career, and a family. On paper, I was a success. But inside, the shame, guilt, and people-pleasing didn’t fade—they festered. I threw myself into workaholism, believing that achieving the American Dream would fill the hole inside me. It didn’t.

My addictions didn’t vanish; they evolved. Food, nicotine, caffeine—these became the new ways I numbed myself. Meetings helped me stay sober, but they couldn’t touch the deep loneliness and spiritual stagnation I felt. I watched others in recovery speak of profound spiritual awakenings, but they remained elusive to me. I thought maybe I just got sober too young, that I’d missed some essential step in growing up.

The Breaking Point: Realizing Success Wasn’t Enough

About five years ago, my carefully constructed life began to unravel. I’d reached a point in my career where I could pay off my mortgage and bills—everything I thought would bring me peace. Instead, I felt emptier than ever. Money couldn’t fill the void. My marriage felt like a hollow performance. I was working harder than ever, but for what? I didn’t even know.

The breakdown came swiftly. I lost my job after refusing to compromise my values during a heated board meeting. At home, I confronted my wife, admitting that I felt like our relationship was a sham. I told her, “I want my insides and my outsides to match. There has to be more than this.” I was desperate for authenticity, intimacy, and a sense of meaning.

The Call to Psychedelics: Searching for Answers

During this period, I stumbled upon the documentary How to Change Your Mind and the research of Joe Dispenza. Something about their work resonated deeply. I remembered my experiences with psychedelics in my youth—mushrooms and LSD had left a mark on me even then. I felt them calling to me now, decades later, as I faced the prospect of becoming another long-sober person who takes his own life.

With nothing left to lose, I took the leap. I sourced psilocybin and embarked on my first intentional journey, alone, without a shaman or guide. My only intention was, “Please help me. Show me what’s going on.” What I discovered was life-changing.

Letting Go: The Power of the Medicine

Psychedelics didn’t replace the foundation AA had given me, but they revealed truths I’d been too afraid to face. They showed me that I didn’t need to keep adding more helium to the balloon of life. I didn’t need more success, more knowledge, or more distractions. I needed to let go of the shame, guilt, and people-pleasing that had tethered me for so long.

In the year and a half since joining Psychedelics in Recovery (PIR), I’ve made more spiritual progress than I did in over three decades of traditional recovery. The medicine, combined with the insights of ACA and other modalities, has helped me address the root causes of my pain rather than just managing the symptoms. I’ve learned that I am enough, just as I am.

A New Beginning: Trusting the Universe

Today, I’m on the brink of even greater change. My marriage may end in divorce, and that terrifies me. But for the first time in my life, I trust the universe. I’m no longer swimming against the current, trying to control everything. Instead, I’m learning to let go and embrace whatever comes.

My journey isn’t over, but I finally feel like I’m on the right path. Sobriety gave me the tools to survive, but psychedelics have given me the courage to truly live. I hope my story can offer a glimmer of hope to anyone who feels stuck, who wonders if there’s more to life than just staying sober. There is. It’s messy, it’s terrifying, and it’s beautiful. And it’s worth it.

The Plain Language Big Book: Preserving Legacy While Embracing Change

d lee — Sun, 24 Nov 2024 03:44:40 +0000

The upcoming release of the Plain Language Big Book, a new edition of the foundational text of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), has sparked conversation and controversy within the recovery community. Designed to make the original Big Book more accessible to modern readers, this project aims to retain the core principles of AA while simplifying its language and updating its tone for contemporary audiences. Yet, for many, the idea of altering even a single word of the original text feels like sacrilege. After all, this book has been instrumental in saving millions of lives since its first publication in 1939.

This effort to reimagine a classic reflects a broader tension within AA and other recovery traditions: how to balance reverence for the past with the need to evolve for the future. The challenge of creating a plain language edition goes far beyond paraphrasing. It requires honoring the heart of a sacred text while recognizing that the language and cultural assumptions of the 1930s may alienate some of today’s readers. At its core, this project raises an important question: when does protecting tradition hinder the opportunity to reach those who still suffer?

The Challenge of Changing a Sacred Text

The Big Book is often seen as more than just a guide—it’s a lifeline, a spiritual blueprint, and, for some, a sacred scripture. Its words have offered hope and transformation to countless individuals. For those who owe their sobriety to its teachings, any changes, no matter how small, may feel like tampering with something divine.

Yet, as the decades have passed, the original text has grown increasingly challenging for some readers. Its language reflects a time when society was very different, and its references can seem distant or exclusionary to modern audiences. The plain language edition seeks to bridge this gap, offering the same life-saving message in a way that feels relevant and accessible to all.

Still, the resistance to change highlights a broader truth about AA: dogmatic truths that once saved us can become obstacles to progress. In the case of the Big Book, the tension lies in how to maintain the integrity of the message while ensuring it remains inclusive and effective in a rapidly changing world.

When Dogmatic Truths Become Resistant to Change

The very elements that make the Big Book powerful—its foundational truths about surrender, community, and spirituality—also make it resistant to revision. Dogma, while grounding, often stems from fear: fear of losing what works, fear of diluting the message, fear of failing those who still suffer.

But history shows us that truths must sometimes evolve to remain effective. Consider the gradual inclusion of women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and people of color in AA. These changes were not easily won. They were met with resistance but ultimately made the program stronger and more inclusive. Similarly, the plain language Big Book is an acknowledgment that accessibility matters—that the life-saving principles of recovery should never be locked behind barriers of language or cultural disconnect.

This tension isn’t unique to AA. Across all systems and traditions, deeply held beliefs often clash with the need for progress. Nowhere is this more evident than in the reemergence of psychedelics as a potential tool for recovery.

Psychedelics: Evolution, Not Replacement

The emergence of psychedelics as a tool for recovery represents one of the most significant developments in addiction treatment today. Contrary to fears within traditional recovery communities, psychedelics are not here to replace AA but to enhance it. Their role isn’t to challenge the 12 steps but to provide deeper insights into the trauma, disconnection, and spiritual challenges that underlie addiction.

This is not an entirely new concept. Bill Wilson, AA’s co-founder, explored the use of LSD in the 1950s as a way to facilitate spiritual awakenings and help those struggling with faith. Wilson believed that psychedelics could help individuals connect with the Higher Power so central to the recovery process. While his ideas were sidelined due to stigma and fear, modern research has reignited interest in how substances like psilocybin and MDMA might complement traditional recovery approaches.

For some, psychedelics serve as a bridge, breaking through barriers that might otherwise prevent individuals from fully engaging with the steps. In this sense, they align with the spirit of AA: helping the suffering find a path to healing, whatever that path may look like.

The Slow Evolution of AA

The history of AA is one of slow but meaningful change. Its decentralized structure empowers local groups to remain autonomous, but it also makes large-scale innovation difficult. This ensures the program’s core remains intact, but it can also mean progress is hard-won.

The plain language Big Book and the growing conversation around psychedelics in recovery both reflect this pattern of cautious evolution. Each step forward is met with debate, and rightly so. Yet, both changes underscore a vital truth: growth doesn’t come from abandoning tradition but from adapting it to meet the needs of today.

Honoring the Past, Embracing the Future

The release of the plain language Big Book is a milestone in AA’s history, a reminder that even the most revered texts must evolve to remain effective. It reflects an acknowledgment that accessibility matters, that language and context can either welcome or alienate, and that the heart of recovery lies not in rigid adherence to tradition but in the ability to reach those who still suffer.

Similarly, the inclusion of psychedelics in recovery represents a growing willingness to explore new tools in the fight against addiction. Together, these shifts point to a brighter future for recovery—one in which the wisdom of the past and the innovations of the present work together to save lives.

Ultimately, both the plain language Big Book and the broader acceptance of psychedelics in recovery remind us of a crucial truth: the principles of healing are timeless, but the methods must evolve. In the pursuit of sobriety, it’s not tradition that matters most but the ability to bring hope to those still struggling.

12-Step Philosophy and the Imbalance of Masculine Energy: Why We Need the Divine Feminine in Healing

d lee — Fri, 15 Nov 2024 14:28:27 +0000

The 12-step philosophy, born from Alcoholics Anonymous in 1935, has undoubtedly saved countless lives. Its framework is a spiritual path of surrender, inventory, amends, and service—a process often rooted in accountability and personal responsibility. However, as effective as the 12-step model can be, it carries an energy that is, in many ways, distinctly masculine. This is not to say that it lacks value but that its inherent design may not provide the balance many individuals—especially those with trauma—desperately need.

In contrast, trauma work approaches like Internal Family Systems (IFS) and other parts-based methodologies introduce a compassionate and nurturing energy that integrates the divine feminine. These approaches encourage a more balanced, whole-person exploration of wounds and behaviors, allowing for both accountability and healing through self-love and compassion.

The Masculine Core of 12-Step Inventories

At the heart of the 12-step philosophy is the moral inventory. In Steps 4 and 10, individuals are asked to identify their resentments, fears, and harms to others and acknowledge their role in these problems. The underlying message is that personal freedom comes from recognizing one’s part in the dysfunction—essentially, that you are the common denominator in most of your struggles.

While this approach can be transformative, it often reinforces a deeply masculine spiritual archetype. It focuses on action, problem-solving, and accountability—qualities associated with the masculine energy. The work asks individuals to “own their part” and move forward with clarity and resolve.

Yet, for many—especially trauma survivors—this process can feel like further evidence of their unworthiness or a reaffirmation of shame. The inventory process sometimes suggests that if you are in pain, it is because of a moral or spiritual failing on your part, rather than recognizing the systemic, relational, or external factors that may have contributed to your suffering.

Trauma Work and the Energy of the Divine Feminine

Trauma-informed practices, including IFS, somatic experiencing, and other parts-based work, offer a counterbalance to the 12-step approach by introducing the compassionate, nurturing energy of the divine feminine.

Internal Family Systems, for instance, teaches that all parts of the self—no matter how destructive they may appear—are ultimately trying to protect us. The addict part, the self-sabotaging part, the angry part—these are not “defects of character” to be eradicated but wounded parts of us that need understanding, love, and integration.

This feminine energy is not passive or indulgent; it is deeply healing. It allows individuals to approach their pain with curiosity and compassion rather than judgment. It acknowledges that while we may be responsible for our healing, we are not necessarily to blame for our suffering. This distinction is critical, particularly for trauma survivors who may already carry a heavy burden of guilt and shame.

Balancing Masculine Accountability with Feminine Compassion

The 12-step philosophy provides a structure that works well for many, but it is not a complete system for everyone. Its emphasis on inventory and accountability can be invaluable for those who need to take ownership of their lives. However, without the balancing energy of the divine feminine, this process risks becoming punitive rather than healing.

Trauma work introduces this much-needed balance by validating pain, exploring systemic and relational contexts, and providing a space where individuals can integrate all parts of themselves. It fosters a sense of connection, not just to a Higher Power but to the self, others, and the world—a connection rooted in love, not just responsibility.

Bridging the Gap

For 12-step programs to evolve and remain relevant in the modern era, they might benefit from integrating trauma-informed practices that honor both masculine and feminine energies. This does not mean abandoning the principles of accountability and service but expanding them to include self-compassion, systemic awareness, and an acknowledgment of the complexity of human suffering.

Incorporating practices like parts work or IFS into the inventory process could transform it from a list of defects into a journey of self-discovery and healing. Likewise, creating spaces for trauma education within 12-step communities could help individuals approach their pain with greater compassion and understanding.

The 12-step philosophy has provided a roadmap for recovery for nearly a century, but its masculine energy—while powerful—is not the whole picture. Trauma work, with its focus on self-compassion and integration, introduces the divine feminine energy necessary for true healing. By balancing accountability with compassion, we can create a more holistic approach to recovery that honors the complexity of the human experience.

In recovery, as in life, we need both the masculine and the feminine, the active and the receptive, the problem-solver and the nurturer. Only then can we truly heal.

Redefining the Inventory: A Balanced Approach

Support groups like Psychedelics in Recovery (PIR) offer an opportunity to rethink the traditional inventory process by infusing it with the balance of masculine and feminine energies. The traditional 12-step inventory emphasizes accountability, encouraging individuals to look for their part in resentments, fears, and harms caused. While this approach has value, it can sometimes feel overly harsh, reinforcing feelings of shame or guilt, especially for trauma survivors.

In contrast, a more balanced inventory—one informed by feminine energy—invites compassion and curiosity alongside accountability. Rather than simply asking, “What was my part?” this approach encourages deeper questions: “What happened to me? How was I shaped by these experiences? What unmet needs or wounds might have driven my behavior?” This shift allows for a broader exploration of context and encourages individuals to see themselves not only as agents of change but also as deserving of understanding and care.

Since PIR is a melting pot of diverse recoveries, including traditional recovery paths as well as more trauma informed such as ACA there are not the limitations of a singular approach. In PIR, the inventory process can become a journey of self-discovery and integration. Masculine energy helps participants identify patterns and take responsibility for their actions, while feminine energy nurtures self-compassion and fosters a willingness to embrace and heal the wounds beneath the behaviors. This balanced perspective acknowledges that individuals are more than the sum of their mistakes—they are complex beings shaped by experiences, relationships, and inner parts seeking protection or connection.

By balancing the inventory in this way, participants in PIR create space for holistic healing. They learn to hold themselves accountable without losing sight of their inherent worthiness. The process becomes less about self-criticism and more about self-understanding, transforming the inventory into a tool for uncovering not just flaws but strengths, resilience, and untapped potential.

This balanced approach not only helps individuals navigate recovery with greater grace but also reflects the deeper truth of healing: that real transformation happens when we integrate both the active accountability of masculine energy and the nurturing compassion of feminine energy. Together, these forces create a path to wholeness—one that honors the full spectrum of the human experience.

Bronze Star, Purple Hearts: A War Abroad, A War Within

d lee — Tue, 12 Nov 2024 03:30:40 +0000

Years ago, I was asked to speak at a conference on Addiction and Mental Health about Vietnam, PTSD and combat veterans. And so I did. And, during that talk, I also spoke in depth of my father. My father, Dennis, is a decorated veteran, though he’d never call himself that. A Bronze Star and several Purple Hearts, medals I found tucked away when I was a kid—all of them symbols of things he would rather leave behind. For decades, Vietnam didn’t exist in our home. And though I have crossed paths with people who try to find ways through trauma, who are open to paths he would never consider, he and I remain worlds apart.

I remember standing at the podium, feeling the weight of all those topics and how each one was woven through my father’s life like the quiet scars he’d never reveal. I spoke about the silent, invisible wounds of war, about how men like my dad returned from combat with memories they’d carry alone, tucked away like his medals in an old box in the closet. It was a tribute, a way to honor him, to give voice to something he’d always buried deep.

At the time, my understanding of healing was limited, shaped by the same world he grew up in—a world where you didn’t talk about your pain. He would simply tell me he was “fine.” I’ve come to understand how much weight that word can hold, how it became his mask, his way of holding back everything he endured. It was only years later, when I found myself immersed in addiction recovery and reaching toward unconventional methods, that I began to open doors my father would never walk through. Psychedelics became part of my journey, a tool that allowed me to go back into my own memories and trauma, offering a form of peace I hadn’t thought possible. But I knew, even then, that he would never accept this path.

My father is a Vietnam vet, a man decorated with medals that he saw as hollow symbols of an experience he’d rather forget. The first time he opened up to me about the December day his squad was obliterated, when he survived while his friends died, was decades after the fact. Vietnam had a way of creeping up on him in silence—he would disappear every December 16th, and even when he was home, he was distant, a shadow of himself. I’ve always known that his generation, men like him, bear their trauma alone, wearing their silence like a badge of honor.

Over the years, my father has told me more than once that not a single day passes without Vietnam on his mind. One year of service, but fifty years of remembering. Fifty years where every day brought him back, even if only for a moment, to those jungles, those losses, and those ghosts that wouldn’t let him go. To anyone else, this might sound unimaginable, but for my father, it’s simply the reality he wakes up to each morning and falls asleep to each night. My father first stepped foot on Vietnam at 19 years old. I attended my first rehab at 19. Two completely different lives, decades and thousands of miles apart.

I went on to talk about his resilience, the way he faced life afterward—marriage, fatherhood, work—bearing a heavy silence as if it were just part of him. He always told me he was “fine,” but I’ve come to know that “fine” often means bearing more than most of us will ever understand. He’s lived his life in quiet defiance of pain, holding onto the belief that suffering is meant to be endured, not healed. Alcoholism and divorce. Living alone. The same episodes of Andy Griffith on repeat on his TV every day.

Today, psychedelics are in their infancy as a recognized form of healing, and for men like my father, they’re still viewed with suspicion, if they’re viewed at all. To him, psychedelics would be a foolish venture, a choice he would probably see as weakness. His is a world where the past remains unspoken, the trauma unacknowledged, and he’s committed to that life. For him, healing means enduring, not transforming, and it’s that stark contrast that defines the distance between us.

Today, on Veterans Day, I think back to that podium and the bridge I tried to build in his honor. When I remember that podium, that audience, and that speech, I’m struck by how much has changed for me and how little has for him. Psychedelics have given me the chance to break free of inherited silence, to find peace in a way I never imagined. And yet, I have to accept that his journey and mine were never meant to align. Today, as I reflect, I understand that the closest I can come to honoring him is by accepting this difference. I see him for who he is—a man who fought his battles alone, whose silence is his shield, and whose version of “fine” will never mean healed.

For him, every day will continue to carry a memory of Vietnam. Every day, he’ll live with those unspoken losses. I wish there were more I could do to help him understand what I’ve found, but I know that some paths are simply not meant to cross.

And so I sit here, accepting that our journeys are different, that the best way I can honor him is to let him keep his silence, his version of “fine.” It’s a solemn peace I’ve made, knowing that he’ll continue to carry Vietnam with him, day after day, while I walk a path he’ll never choose. But perhaps, by understanding this difference, I’m honoring him as he truly is.

Sometimes when I go back into the histories of the psychedelic movement, I sometimes wonder about the worlds apart…the Timothy Leary’s and the LSD studies in the 1950s and 1960s…and people like my father 8,000 miles away in a jungle.

I do know that two things happened in 1968.

In October of 1968, Lyndon B. Johnson, President at the time, signed into law that LSD was officially illegal in the United States…and interestingly enough, it was the same time my father first stepped off of a plane into Vietnam.

-David Lee, PIR member

Sacred Timing: How Symbolic Dates and Times Enhance Psychedelic Ceremonies

d lee — Mon, 11 Nov 2024 22:56:31 +0000

The use of symbolic dates and times has a deep resonance within psychedelic practices, where timing often aligns with personal intentions, cosmic events, or numerological patterns to enhance the meaning of the experience. Below, we explore how the significance of dates and times—like 11:11 or others—has evolved in psychedelic practices and the broader symbolic landscape of ceremonial timing.

For members of Psychedelics in Recovery (PIR), finding meaningful rituals and symbols can enhance their journey of self-discovery, healing, and spiritual growth. Psychedelic experiences often open the door to deeper understanding and alignment with oneself and the universe, and many members draw on symbolic dates and times—like 11:11, solstices, or personal milestones—as anchors for reflection and intention-setting. These moments become meaningful rituals within their recovery, helping them to stay connected, grounded, and committed to their path. By aligning with sacred timing, members can transform ordinary moments into powerful, purposeful acts that support their ongoing journey in recovery.

1. The Significance of 11:11 in Psychedelic Ceremonies

For many people involved in psychedelic ceremonies, especially those integrating spiritual practices, the time 11:11 has become a powerful moment to pause, reflect, and set intentions. Here’s how it’s used:

Intention-Setting: During a ceremony, facilitators or participants might observe 11:11 as a time to set or reaffirm intentions, seeing it as a “portal” to align with their highest goals for the experience.
Mindfulness Practice: When 11:11 appears, participants may take a moment to focus on their breathing, tune into the present moment, and center their awareness, creating an ideal mental space for deep introspection.
Collective Unity: For group ceremonies, 11:11 is sometimes a prompt for group meditation or prayer, a time to harmonize energies and bring focus to collective intentions for healing or transformation.

2. Solstices and Equinoxes: Sacred Timing for Transformation

Solstices (December 21 and June 21) and equinoxes (March 20 and September 22) have been used for centuries by indigenous and spiritual communities as powerful times for ceremonies, including those involving psychedelics. These times are often seen as points of energetic alignment, ideal for rites of passage, renewal, and transformation.

Winter Solstice: Known as the longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice is a time of darkness, contemplation, and the promise of rebirth. Many see it as an ideal moment to “go inward” in ceremony, seeking insights about shadow aspects, releasing the past, and setting intentions for growth.
Summer Solstice: The Summer Solstice, when daylight is at its peak, is often celebrated with outdoor ceremonies, celebrating life, abundance, and the spirit of connectedness. Many use it as a time to honor the body, nature, and the interconnectedness of all life.
Equinoxes: As days and nights are equal, the equinoxes symbolize balance. Psychedelic ceremonies during equinoxes may focus on restoring internal balance, harmonizing energies, or letting go of inner conflict, allowing for a more peaceful and centered journey.

3. Full Moons and New Moons: Lunar Phases for Amplified Intentions

The lunar cycle has long been central to spiritual practices, and many psychedelic practitioners incorporate full moons and new moons into their ceremonial timing:

Full Moon Ceremonies: The full moon represents illumination, culmination, and the completion of cycles. Many find it a powerful time to dive into psychedelic experiences that offer insights, clarity, or closure. In group settings, full moon ceremonies are often held outdoors under moonlight, symbolizing openness and collective expansion.
New Moon Ceremonies: The new moon, which marks the start of the lunar cycle, is a time for fresh intentions, goal-setting, and planning. Psychedelic ceremonies during the new moon may be quieter, reflective, and focused on seeding intentions for the coming cycle. Some people may use these ceremonies for personal clarity on new paths, career changes, or spiritual growth.

4. Numerologically Significant Dates (e.g., 1/1, 2/2, 3/3, etc.)

Some psychedelic practitioners are drawn to dates with repeating numerals (like 1/1, 2/2, or 12/12) for ceremonial practices, seeing these dates as carrying high vibrational frequencies and specific symbolic meanings. For example:

1/1 (New Year’s Day): Representing new beginnings, many choose this date to “reset” through ceremony, letting go of the past year’s challenges and setting intentions for the year ahead.
2/2, 3/3, etc.: Some choose these dates for their symbolism in numerology. For instance, 2/2 is associated with duality and balance, while 3/3 represents creativity and expression. Practitioners may use these dates to align their psychedelic journey with these themes, seeking insight or growth in areas symbolized by the numbers.
12/12: Seen as a highly spiritual date, 12/12 ceremonies are often focused on completion, reflection, and gratitude for the entire year, especially potent when combined with intentional use of psychedelics.

5. Astrological Transits: Cosmic Alignments in Ceremonial Timing

Astrology often plays a significant role in the timing of psychedelic ceremonies, especially during impactful planetary alignments like eclipses, retrogrades, or specific planetary transits.

Eclipses: Eclipses (solar and lunar) are viewed as potent energetic portals that bring transformation and clarity, though they can also be intense and emotionally charged. Some practitioners use eclipses as an opportunity to dive into shadow work, clearing emotional baggage or confronting unresolved trauma.
Mercury Retrograde: Although often seen as a challenging time, Mercury retrograde can be a period of introspection and reassessment. For psychedelic ceremonies, it can be a time to reflect on past decisions, unresolved issues, and patterns, though some practitioners may avoid ceremonies during this time due to potential emotional intensity.
Planetary Transits (e.g., Saturn Return): Some people align ceremonies with personal astrological events, such as their Saturn Return (around ages 27-30 and 57-60), a period often associated with significant life changes. These transits can serve as opportunities for transformative journeys, often with psychedelics used as tools for understanding and accepting life shifts.

6. Personal Milestones and Anniversaries: Personal Reflections in Ceremonial Timing

Many individuals in psychedelic practices also choose specific personal milestones, like birthdays or anniversaries, as significant times for ceremony.

Birthdays: Known as “solar returns,” birthdays can be seen as moments of rebirth. Practitioners may use psychedelics ceremonially to reflect on the past year, release limiting beliefs, and set intentions for the new year.
Sobriety Anniversaries: For individuals using psychedelics as part of a recovery process, anniversaries of sobriety can be meaningful times for ceremony. It may serve as an opportunity to reflect on the journey, honor personal growth, and recommit to their path.
Life Transitions: Significant life changes, like moving, career changes, or relationship shifts, can also be marked by ceremony. Practitioners use psychedelics to explore these transitions more deeply, seeking clarity, guidance, and healing as they move into new chapters of life.

7. Collective Dates for Healing and Transformation (e.g., Earth Day, World Mental Health Day)

Certain global observances, such as Earth Day (April 22) or World Mental Health Day (October 10), are also chosen by some psychedelic practitioners for group ceremonies or individual journeys. These dates can carry themes that resonate with larger causes and global healing, inspiring participants to focus on collective well-being.

Earth Day: For example, Earth Day may inspire a ceremony focused on nature connection, sustainability, and gratitude for the environment. Plant medicines or psychedelics may be used to deepen this connection, allowing participants to feel a renewed sense of ecological awareness.
World Mental Health Day: On World Mental Health Day, psychedelic ceremonies might be aimed at exploring personal mental health, processing trauma, or supporting healing around mental health issues. These ceremonies often emphasize community, support, and a commitment to holistic well-being.

Intentional Timing for Deepened Ceremonial Experiences

In psychedelic practices, the timing of ceremonies often aligns with symbolic dates or cosmic events, chosen to deepen the meaning of the experience. Whether through 11:11, solstices, numerologically significant dates, or personal anniversaries, these moments serve as powerful “portals” that enhance the journey. For those on a path of self-discovery and healing, the alignment of ceremony with symbolic times is more than mere timing—it is an intentional and thoughtful way to weave personal intention with universal energies, honoring both the individual and the collective journey of transformation.