Same Ride. Different Worlds.
Two children sit side by side on a roller coaster. One is laughing, thrilled by the rush of air and the drop ahead. The other is white-knuckled, terrified. Same ride, same moment—completely different experience.
That simple image captures one of the greatest challenges in studying the human brain. Every brain responds in its own way. No two people think, feel, or remember quite alike. That’s what makes brain science both exciting and humbling. Animal studies can describe how neurons fire or how chemicals move, but they cannot capture what it feels like to be alive, scared, joyful, or suddenly aware of a new idea.
Lidiya, in Her Magic Mushroom Memoir, was introduced to the brain through a burr hole—a direct look into living tissue, not so different from what ancient healers sought when they trephined a skull to release pain or spirits. Across the decades that followed, she learned how the quest to understand the brain demanded both precision and humility.
She watched as microscopes gave way to scanners, as the soft hum of an EEG became the vibrant color maps of fMRI. Each image promised revelation, yet each also reminded her how little we truly know. The brain remained part instrument, part mirror—reflecting not only what we think, but what we are capable of imagining, fearing, and controlling.
Every method opened a window: an MRI tunnel glowing with possibility, electrodes tracing emotion, psychedelic compounds revealing hidden networks of meaning. But each came with limits. fMRI can show where activity happens but not when. EEG can capture timing but not place. PET scans reveal chemistry but not thought. Even together, they cannot yet explain why two riders on the same roller coaster live two entirely different worlds.
And then there is the practical barrier—literally. The brain floats in clear cerebrospinal fluid, sealed off by the blood–brain barrier, protected from most drugs, toxins, and even some cures. It is the body’s most privileged organ—and also the least accessible. Every experiment must cross that invisible moat between body and mind.
Yet this very challenge has driven some of the most creative advances in modern science. Each obstacle rejected becomes a lesson; each failure, a clue. Step by step, researchers are finding ways to reach the brain safely and precisely. For example, while psilocybin affects the brain in many ways, new approaches now show promise in capturing its therapeutic benefits without the hallucinatory journey—an evolution from mysticism to measurable medicine. (https://www.biorxiv.org/content/10.1101/2024.10.18.618582v1)
Still, beneath progress runs a necessary caution. Lidiya sensed it early: as tools become more powerful—and computers begin to interpret the brain’s signals—the same innovations that heal could also be used to manipulate. The line between exploration and control remains as thin as a neuron’s filament—bright, fragile, and worth guarding.