Some of the richest rewards that ensue from pursuing psychedelic exploration with close friends comes from the deep, richly satisfying relationships that develop.

Relationships deepen by way of a two-pronged dynamic. First there is the clearing of individual beings -- the dissolving away of repressed material, the recognizing and dropping of outdated concepts and habits, the dropping of defenses. This opens the space among participants and allows an increasing intimacy. As the barriers dissolve, the energy radiated from each person increases. The combined linking of these radiant sources yields a strong energy field, a field of bonding love that supports and strengthens each one in the group.

The other prong consists in exploring new areas of consciousness, which brings into the group a wealth of new information. Each of course apprehends this in his/her own, unique way. The sharing and discussion of such discoveries leads to greater clarification and understanding in each member of the group. The issues go all the way from personal dynamics to the nature of God and how one achieves and maintains transcendence.

This chapter and the following one are devoted to material gathered from explorations and exchanges with good friends.

One of the fascinating, significant figures in the early days of psychedelics was a psychologist in Canada. In the early 1950's, when LSD was first introduced, investigators were busily engaged in determining the nature of this substance and the results it produced. The medical establishment rapidly arrived at the conclusion that LSD produces a state which mimicked psychosis, and named it a psychotomimetic.

Fortunately there were others who because of some combination of having an appropriate world view, being completely at peace with themselves, having a lively curiosity and a willingness to relinquish preconceived ideas, were able to move into completely different areas of experience with these substances.

Duncan was one of these. Although a brilliant psychologist, he was an extremely lovable, fun-loving person. When he and Al Hubbard came together there was instant rapport. They recognized each other as scoundrels and explorers, and immediately formed a deep alliance. The following excerpts of a letter from Duncan to Al gives the flavor of their relationship:

With Al's companionship, Duncan freely explored vast areas of consciousness with wise comprehension. Hubbard was fond of carrying around a little tape recorder playing back a statement that Duncan pronounced during one of his explorations. It ended with the statement: "The true meaning of life is so simple that scientists will never discover it."

I heard many stories about Duncan from Hubbard. Duncan had many gifts and talents, including the Irish ability to eloquently describe the multifarious situations he often found himself in. And his ability to creatively resolve them.

Duncan was quite enthused about the worlds that LSD opened up and the enormous potential such experiences held for the betterment of mankind. Consequently at one psychological meeting where he presented a paper, he recommended that LSD should be available in gum-ball machines in every drugstore. While current American society is shocked by such a suggestion, it must be remembered that at that time LSD was being used very successfully in several areas in Canada as a treatment for alcoholism. Saskatchewan was one of the few places in time and geography when the man on the street recognized LSD as a valuable medicine, and that its use was the most effective treatment for alcoholism then known. As alcoholism was quite a scourge in those cold, northern climates where winters left little opportunity for entertainment, cures were very much appreciated by suffering families.

I looked forward very much to meeting Duncan, and one summer afternoon in Vancouver I had the opportunity. I was visiting with Al and Rita, and was advised that Duncan would soon be arriving for a visit.

We were aware when his car entered the parking lot of the apartment house, and we opened the door of Hubbard's fourth floor apartment. We could hear Duncan tromping up the stairs. As he turned around the last landing, I got my first glimpse of him.

Duncan was a short, stocky man, with short arms. Wearing a sleeveless sportshirt appropriate for the warm, sunny day, he was flamboyantly climbing the stairs, swinging his arms in a way that revealed the engaging movement of his exposed elbows. A happy, fun- loving grin lighted up his face. Grasped in one hand was a large, green peyote button, which he stuffed into his mouth from time to time and chewed happily.

Duncan had also heard of me, and after being introduced, the first thing he did was to offer me a bite of his button. I accepted, and found much to my surprise that it didn't taste nearly as bad as I had been led to believe.

That evening we went out to dine at Hubbard's favorite place reserved for the most prominent visitors, the Vancouver Yacht Club. It was a decorous setting, and an ideal place to get acquainted while simultaneously enjoying an excellently served gourmet meal.

I was thoroughly engaged by the wonderful stories Duncan was sharing. I had had such a small amount of the peyote that I never felt it. So imagine my surprise when I looked at the lush carpet and found all the designs raised in three-D, and with glowing colors! I was delighted, as this was the first time in my life I have observed visual effects without any feeling of ingesting a drug. I felt only the well-being of superb companionship.

Duncan was telling us where he got the peyote. At that time it was possible to procure it from a source in Texas. He and his friends had chipped in and ordered a gunny-sack full. Not sure how it would be accepted by Canadian law, they elected to store it under the front porch of the home of one member of the group. Here they felt it would be safe; this person's father was the local sheriff. They never bothered to tell him about it.

Duncan played an active role in Saskatchewan as a therapist and guide in the experimental use of LSD with alcoholic subjects. Working with other hospital staff, encouraging results were achieved. Duncan wrote a most knowledgeable handbook about the informed use of LSD in a therapeutic setting. Despite it being written before 1960, it is still the most comprehensive, thorough, and knowledgeable treatment of the subject in print today, other than Stan Grof's volume LSD Psychotherapy(1). The work accomplished in the last three decades by other therapists (who have had to work underground because of our repressive drug laws) confirms the accuracy of the information presented.

At one point there was a debate as to whether or not LSD is addicting. Duncan was sure that it was not, so in order to prove it, he and his supervising psychiatrist took it every day as they sat with experimental subjects. At the end of 30 days he declared that there was no change in his ordinary functioning.

However, some of the authorities at the treatment hospital declared that he was addicted because he was taking it every day. So they demanded that he and his supervisor stop taking it. They stopped, and exhibited no adverse effects. Duncan was a bit sad at being deprived of the opportunity to partake.

I had the good fortune to share a few experiences with Duncan, and found him extremely sensitive, aware, helpful, and companionable. He was one of the easiest persons to love I have ever met. I grew very fond of him. I regret the distance that separates us, and the exigencies in life that have widened the separation. I often wonder what has happened to him, and what he is doing now. I believe he retired to a home in Mexico. If he has his way, I am sure that he is sharing a peyote button or two with some new-found friend.

Jeffrey was a long time friend, and one of the most interesting people that I have known. He was a teacher of religion and philosophy at one of our well-known universities, and always had a deep interest in the mystical and the occult. For years he had meetings in his home, inviting outstanding personages to address or demonstrate to a group of friends who shared his interests.

Jeffrey was thrilled to learn that there were substances available which could provide entry to the states with which he was so enamored. He became one of the first volunteers, and thoroughly enjoyed his experiences.

Besides his teaching occupation, Jeffrey was also a trained architect, and had designed and built a very beautiful home. There is one additional area that I considered him a complete standout.

One of the ways that Al Hubbard had taught us to prepare people for the psychedelic experience was to give them some inhalations of Maduna's mixture of carbon dioxide and oxygen(2). I personally had derived a great deal from this procedure. It was a marvelous abreactor, and for me always released an enormous charge of repressed anger. Despite the fact that the release was always freeing and exhilarating, I always approached the experience with a great deal of anxiety. While most people who went through our program at the Foundation derived considerable benefit, it was such a drastic and dramatic procedure that no one underwent it eagerly.

Jeffrey was quite an exception. He loved it. He would take an enormous number of breathes -- up to 50, whereas most would release their inhibitions with 15 to 20. But his experiences were always exalted. He would have intense and varied imagery, often of outstanding architectural forms. He always returned to normal consciousness with a bit of sadness at leaving such a wonderful world, yet very grateful for the opportunity to spend some time there.

As we got busy with our work at the Foundation, I lost track of Jeffrey. He developed some heart difficulties, and had bypass surgery. Sometime after the closing of the Foundation, he came to visit a colleague and me in our business office. He looked terrible, despite being his old, cheerful self. He had lost an enormous amount of weight, and his face was blue with lack of oxygen. He admitted that he was on his last legs, and wondered if there was any way that we could provide him with an experience before his departure. It had been a number of years since he had had one, and he wished to reacquaint himself with the levels he hoped to enter.

We promised to give it some thought. After he left my colleague said to me, "Certainly we have to honor his request. We now have MDMA, and it is such a remarkable material, what a wonderful way for us all to pay our last respects."

I could feel fear grip me. "Yes, but MDMA is a pretty powerful stimulant. The major contraindication is with heart patients. We could end up with a body on our hands."

"So what?" said my friend. "He's just about dead anyway. He could die at any time. If he dies, no one would be surprised. What a marvelous gift for him. I'll be glad to take responsibility for him."

I agreed it would be a marvelous gift, and deeply admired my friend for facing the situation and being willing to carry it out. I inhaled deeply, and pulled myself into the space of agreement and willingness to see the project through.

Several of us were present and joined Jeffrey in taking MDMA at the 120 m.g. level. I thought Jeffrey looked tense and worried. However, as the effects came on he went outside and became absorbed in studying plants and flowers. His concerns dropped away.

We took a 40 m.g. supplement at the 1-1/2 hour point. As we relaxed indoors, all the lines disappeared from Jeffrey's face, and he became very young and very alive. The earlier pallor completely left him. Jeffrey radiated warmth, and began to speak eloquently of the wonder, goodness, and beauty that pervades the universe, and the enormous gratitude he felt to the Supreme Maker of it all. He pointed out how everything created had its appropriate place, and how wonderful it was to peacefully flow with the Life Force in all of its seasons. His talking lifted us all into appreciation of these levels of awareness. My colleague later joined me in the evaluation that this was our most spiritually realized experience yet with MDMA.

Jeffrey was rejuvenated by this experience. His color came back and he was filled with enthusiasm. For several months he had been inactive. Now he resumed some former projects, including working with elderly people. He continued this activity for another six months before he once again became infirm. We discussed another experience, but he knew his time was up and that he might not endure it. He was very grateful for the additional six months of active life that the MDMA had given him. Even more so, he was content with the perspective he had gained on his life, and was ready to move on.

In the course of a lifetime one meets a great variety of people. It is the outstanding ones that capture our attention. Jules is certainly one of those. Dynamic, full of life, bursting with humor, a skilled therapist, he was deeply committed spiritually. This commitment was the central core of his life.

Jules was even more outstanding in death. At the age of 33, he contracted cancer and fought a successful battle to complete remission. This experience gave him the understanding to be of profound help to others suffering from cancer, and aid them in conquering this enemy.

Thirteen years later Jules underwent bypass surgery. He lay in intensive care hovering between life and death. At times he seemed on the path to recovery, only to have this followed by a relapse. Sinking low, expecting the worst, he rallied again and again to extend his battle. This continued for seven painful months. At last, after a final surgery, internal bleeding brought him to the end. But not before he awoke sufficiently to cheerfully say goodbye to his family and close friends.

Jean and I recently attended a memorial service for Jules in his back yard. Over fifty people gathered there to give testimonials and pay their last respects. We had never witnessed such an outpouring of love and appreciation. It included the intimate sharing of family members, statements from close, dear friends who deeply appreciated Jules in his various personality roles, descriptions of the support Jules had given to neighbors in difficulty, and most impressively, reports of clients who felt their lives were given to them by Jules's ability to help them climb out of deep holes into the daylight.

All of Jules's close friends had rooted for him and prayed fervently as he lay helpless in intensive care. During this excruciating vigil, we all had a chance to confront death and what was happening with Jules.

At first we understood his eagerness to cure his illnesses and come back to life. But as he wasted away physically to the point where it seemed there were few resources to bring back, and as medical bills mounted astronomically, we wondered in different ways. What was causing the recurring relapses after each indication of gain? Practically all of us believed in reincarnation, and knew the faith Jules had in the survival of bodily death. Was he afraid to go on? Each in our own way pondered death and its meaning. The full impact of Jule's message for me personally hit me in a morning meditation. There are many approaches to spiritual development. One broad class involves total surrender to God, being completely in the moment, and going with the flow of life. Another approach, perhaps best exemplified by Michael Murphy in his book The Future of the Body(3), involves recognizing our unlimited potential and doing what we can to realize it. Jules firmly believes in this latter approach, as do I. It involves applying ourselves as best we can to develop the skills, perception, wisdom, and love to function at ever higher levels.

This latter method provides the ability, I believe, to generate ever more power, to be an ever-increasing force in the world. Yet it is a dangerous path, as the ego loves power. The challenge is to keep an appropriate balance.

The solution for me lies in the concept of partnership with God. It is this partnership which we each must individually resolve. If we rely completely on God to carry out our functions, nothing tangible will happen. On the other hand, if we try to do it all ourselves, we become warped, distorted, cut off from others, and do not have the vital energy or perception for appropriate actions. By being in tune with God, the power of the universe is with us. I can give a great deal of personal testimony as to the futility and drain in personal vitality that comes from thinking I can do it alone.

Jules was on the brink of developing immense power. For seven months he lay as a true warrior, facing incredible pain and anguish as he rallied his personal resources to heal his body. But in the end, it was not enough.

Watching Jules, I clearly see the importance of being totally open to all sources of help. Yes, it is my responsibility to set the direction. But only by surrendering to the situation, being completely open to all the forms of help available in the universe -- the strength of friends, the love and compassion of the wise sages that have preceded us, to that remarkable healing energy that comes through the Grace of God -- can powerful obstacles be overcome. I felt it a true warning to me to be careful of my striving, to avoid attacking barriers by brute force and severely taxing my personal resources. I must remain open and relaxed, be available to all the resources that exist, and allow them to nurture and support me. In this way I can truly achieve my potential.

Thank you, Jules, for your brave example, for your true spirit, and for the inspiration you brought to us all.

Spending a few days with our good friend Edgar has given me much to think about concerning the use of the sacraments.

Edgar and his wife Grace are among our oldest friends. We first became acquainted in the Sequoia Seminar, which initiated our spiritual search. They were among the first to go through our program at the Foundation, and were enthusiastic supporters of our work. They both felt that they had received a great deal of benefit from their experiences, and had opened up to many new possibilities in life. They found much personal understanding, a new sense of peace and fulfillment, had considerably improved their marriage relationship and communication with their children, and had opened up appreciably to spiritual development. This last they considered to be the most important of all.

Because of their character and experience, they were often chosen as "sitters" to take people home and be with them after they had undergone a psychedelic experience at our Foundation. When it became apparent that persons who had gone through the Foundation program could benefit from meeting and discussing their experiences with others, Edgar and Grace formed and led a group for this purpose.

They have both been willing subjects in our exploration of new compounds. They have continued to reap benefits, and have often told us how much they are indebted to us for making these experiences possible.

Edgar is a remarkable human being. He is a large man, powerful and strong, yet under the right circumstances he is like a warm puppy-dog. Edgar has amazing endurance, perseverance, and exceptional energy. He drives himself hard, and his body shows the signs of strain. Once he has adopted a goal, he latches on like a fierce bulldog, and cannot be deterred from proceeding full-bore until it is completed.

He loves to be in control. Edgar has remarkable confidence in his own ability, which is quite considerable, and can sometimes be quite stubborn. He is blessed with a saintly wife. Grace has been extremely supportive, and has grown considerably as she has handled difficult situations.

Edgar is extremely talented. He is very bright, and an outstanding inventor with good management ability. For years he was intrigued with the process of creativity. Working jointly with a good friend also interested in the creative process and in the mechanisms of the human mind, they came up with some practical, working rules to foster the creative process.

Edgar was fortunate to accumulate some capital through successful investments. At age fifty-five, he had enough capital to retire. But he was restless, and eager to place his knowledge of creativity to work in a successful business. He found MDMA to be an excellent tool to enhance his creativity.

But here we see manifested one of the real dangers of psychedelics. Unless used with wisdom and the kind of objectivity that comes from a good peer group, their use can powerfully reinforce one's strongly held views. In the case of his first independent endeavor, Edgar's single-minded approach, great confidence in his superior intelligence, and unwillingness to listen to advice from others led to substantial financial losses.

Humbled and wiser, he set out on a new project with equal determination but a great deal more care. This project was a very insightful one, and in addition involved genuine service to the market he envisioned. It was a herculean task; it involved gathering an enormous amount of essential information that would be of use to designers everywhere. The success of the work would depend on how completely all of the basic information was covered, how interestingly it could be presented, and how quickly specific information could be found.

When the time came to approach publishers, he found immediate response. Edgar ended up with a very favorable contract, and at the time of our last visit with him, had only four months more work to complete the project and send it off to the publishers in camera-ready form.

As we visit with our good friends, Edgar and his wife, we tacitly agree to spend a day in communion with the sacraments. The choice is the one which Jean and I have found to be so effective, 2C-E.

As we get into the experience Edgar becomes quite uncomfortable, and has heavy, disturbing feelings in his body. I have several suggestions to offer as to how he can ease this discomfort. This involves his willingness to let go and allow the inner feelings to surface. However, Edgar refuses any suggestions. He is so heavily defended against these inner feelings that he denies that his discomfort has anything to do with any inappropriate behavior or attitudes. When it becomes quite clear that he wishes no help and does not wish to deal with his feelings, we leave him to himself and pursue our own experiences.

The next evening as we are reviewing our journey together, Edgar shares that he experienced that everything is perfectly fine just the way it is. Yet in further discussion, he is quite aggressive and judgmental of others. As I wonder out loud if he considers his position "perfectly fine," he asks if there is any problem between the two of us. I reflect carefully and say, "No. But I do feel very sad that you suffer so physically and don't want to find ways to ease your pain."

This greatly irritates him, and he attacks me for thinking I can solve his problems. I get defensive and complain of his lack of trust in me and the fact that I might have learned through the years some useful approaches for resolving difficulties.

Not feeling any real heat, and realizing the investment Edgar has in his position, I said, "You win, Edgar," and we went to bed amiably. But on waking up the next morning , I thought deeply about it.

Is there any benefit from subjecting Edgar to a psychedelic experience when he is so completely resistant to making use of the opportunity? After all, he is deeply engrossed in an extremely important and valuable project, is under great pressure, and needs every ounce of his resources to fulfill his contract with the publisher. I provided him a day of discomfort and possibly introduced a whole new spectrum of concerns to preoccupy him, just when he most needed his resources to complete his work.

Of course I wouldn't knowingly do this. I certainly have some basis for considering that such an experience would be helpful to him.

I would like to use this occasion of sharing an exploration with Edgar as a basis for presenting some of my hypotheses about the nature of these experiences. These hypotheses are an intuitive integration resulting from participating in and observing a great many experiences.

I must first say that to my knowledge, from discussing the chemical action of psychedelics in the body with some of the most informed people that I know, that despite much speculation, there is no agreed upon understanding of what is actually taking place in the body to achieve the remarkable results observed.

When a person ingests a psychedelic, there is an enormously complex set of variables: the person's psyche, which includes his value-belief system, his life experience and conditioning; the state of his body; the environment he is in; his preparation for the experience; and the action of the chemical itself on these various factors.

The most important action of the chemical is to dissolve the barrier between the conscious and unconscious mind. This potentially provides access to all our forgotten memories, repressed feelings, hidden motives, drives, values, and habits as recognized by Freud. In addition, the unconscious includes the various dynamics proposed by Carl G. Jung. These include the archetypes of human behavior in all of its forms, and the Collective Unconscious. These are elaborated upon in Appendix IV, where I describe my view of the nature of the self and realizing our true nature.

But I believe there is something else that is quite important. This is the relationship between the psyche and the body. Alexander Lowen, in his book Bioenergetics(4), sets forth this relationship between the psyche and the body, and the flow of energy. He describes how psychological characteristics produce physical armor, and affect body structure and movement. Thus correlates of our psychological dynamics appear physically in our body.

I am personally convinced that neurotic patterns have corresponding stresses and toxins embedded in our musculature, which result in the dynamics postulated by bioenergetics.

This means that even when one becomes aware of one's psychological problems, the toxins and armor are still stored in the body. Psychosomatic medicine takes a lot of this into account, indicating that disturbances like ulcers, heart disease, colitis, etc. have psychological foundations. Even after psychological insight has been gained, these toxins are much harder to remove, and yield only with the continued application of effort to free oneself of one's psychological problems by changing one's behavior.

One of the properties of a good psychedelic, which I believe is not well known, much less understood, is that it can clear the body of toxins and armor that accompany the psychological dynamics. Muscle tensions and stresses are relieved, so that the bioenergy that Lowen discusses can flow more freely, with accompanying improvement in mental-body balance. Consequently at the end of a good psychedelic session, one has a sense of bodily renewal and freedom (if it has been a hard-working session with a lot of repressed material released, it is not unusual to feel tired afterward. Consequently it may take several days to feel the full effects of such rejuvenation). Behavior is much easier to change when the body is free of this load.

This opening will last for a while, but can be dissipated if one continues in one's old behavior patterns and thereby rebuilds the toxins and the armor. Probably a great source of disappointment for a large number of people who ingested psychedelics in the 1960s is that because of the power of what they learned, they expected the experience to change them. Consequently they did not put in the effort required to change. The resulting discomfort of returning old patterns of behavior was often countered by a subsequent experience. While a certain amount of change inevitably takes place, the presence of continuing uncomfortable symptoms can lead to disillusionment, or new defense patterns to hide the disappointment. For the person who genuinely wishes to change, the window of opportunity following a good psychedelic experience is an advantageous time.

So now back to Edgar. For complete rejuvenation, the psychedelics, or as I prefer to call them, the sacraments, work best by ingesting them and being willing to focus one's complete attention on the experience that results. By holding one's attention on feelings that surface, the feelings eventually resolve themselves, often with an enormous breakthrough of understanding and release of repressed energy. It often helps to stay focused on the feelings by consciously breathing through them.

But suppose that one doesn't want to examine the feelings? They can be quite uncomfortable. Or the resulting insights can so oppose dearly held beliefs and actions that discovering the true nature of one's uncomfortable feelings would be terribly painful. In such cases one might well want to avoid them completely.

As long as the individual is reasonably honest and cooperative, there is still some benefit just from the release of the toxic material and the armor. Tensions can be relieved and new energy sources can be tapped, at least temporarily. And it is always possible that with the passage of time, a person may review what has happened and be more willing to allow feelings to surface at a comfortable pace. For it has been my experience (and more so lately as I have become more observant) that crusts are dissolved from the defensive walls that have locked down repressed material. This, along with any new learning that may have taken place during the journey, can permit such material to come to the surface more freely in the days following such an experience.

So it is possible that there can be gains for a participant even though he or she is not particularly willing to deal with unconscious material that is loosened during the psychedelic experience. And of course beyond what we consciously observe, there is a significant amount that transpires at various levels of the psyche that can lead to improved functioning with or without our conscious cooperation.

With these reflections on our experience with Edgar, I did not feel that I had done him a disservice. Fortunately, this was confirmed about a week later in a phone call when he reported that he had gotten considerable rejuvenation and renewed inspiration from our time together.

1. Grof, Stanislav. LSD Psychotherapy. Pomona, Calif: Hunter House, 1980.
2. Meduna, L. J. Carbon Dioxide Therapy. Springfield, Ill: Charles C. Thomas, 1950. See Chapter 1, note 4.
3. Murphy, Michael. The Future of the Body. Los Angeles: Jeremy P. Tarcher, Inc., 1992.
4. Lowen, Alexander, M. D. Bioenergetics. New York: Coward, McCann, & Geoghegan, 1975.
5. Another explanation of the bodily rejuvenation that comes from a good psychedelic experience can be drawn from the practice of meditation. Psychedelics can so increase the intensity of the inner light at the core of our being that this light dissipates the toxins. Often in a good meditation session, stiffness, soreness, tiredness, and arthritic symptoms are relieved.