Interviews

Carl A.P. Ruck

  • These substances were previously called hallucinogens or psychedelics. That is wrong for two reasons. One is that “psychedelic” had become associated with the psychedelic generation and the misuse of these substances. The other problem with “psychedelic” is that although psyche does mean soul in Greek, most English words with the psych- root clearly refer to the mind and imitate a psychotic state. Who would think of referring to the Christian communion as a hallucinogen?

    I propose the term entheogen, combining the Greek adjective entheos, meaning that God resides within you. One can be possessed with the aspiration toward art, perfection, and so forth. It is a good term, I think.

  • My colleagues ignored my indiscretion in talking about such a thing as if I had farted in church.

    There was a meeting in the president’s office. He began by saying that he was trying to improve the intellectual level and that advancement should be determined entirely by academic production. Then he looked at me and said, “Except in the popular press.”

    The ironic thing is that in the early 1960s, at Boston University, there was a School of Theology, and at Marsh Chapel in the basement they conducted an experiment in which they gave theology students an entheogen. Afterward, the participants were asked whether the experience was religious or not. It was determined that it was religious.

Classical Studies Professor

Inti Garcia

Mazatec Activist

Interview
Inti

  • As Mazatecs, we see the mushrooms as a last resort for curing illness—physical, mental, or spiritual. They are sacred, and must be approached with respect and responsibility. They represent the deepest essence of our culture.

    My family views them the same way, with respect and affection, as divine gifts from Mother Earth. Traditionally we used them for divination and healing. I believe this practice must never be lost, because losing it would mean losing our identity as Mazatecs.

  • Fewer now. Hospitals, clinics, and pharmacies exist, so there is less reliance on mushrooms. Outside religions also condemn these practices, discouraging them. Today, ceremonies are often more for tourists than for Mazatecs. Some families still hold veladas, but very few.

  • My father, Renato García Dorantes, was motivated by his curiosity to know more about his own culture. He had many questions about the customs and traditions of his town. He also feared that one day all this knowledge and richness would be lost. That is why he began to investigate, collect, and document it—so it could be preserved.

    Thanks to his work, we now have the archive Historias y Memorias Mazatecas, which contains VHS and Betamax tapes, audio cassettes, film reels, documents, photographs, slides, negatives, textiles, and many other materials that capture the cultural richness of the Mazatec people.

    As for me, what motivated me to get involved was not to let my father’s work go to waste. Since childhood I often accompanied him—filming interviews, recording elders, and observing how he worked. I was always curious when foreigners or anthropology students came to see him, and I would listen to those conversations.

    I realized that our culture is so vast—there are things we Mazatecs still carry that are not written in any published book. That understanding motivated me to continue, to preserve the historical legacy and responsibility left to me by my father.

    It also comes from my own desire to learn about who I am—my traditions and culture as a Mazatec, as part of this community. I believe it is important to learn directly from the voices preserved in this archive: from the interviews, the writings, and the memories stored there. Through them I can learn and relearn what it means to be Mazatec.

  • We have continued with this project, and recently it led me to take a new step: the opening of the Museo Historias y Memorias Mazatecas here in Huautla.

    The purpose of the museum is for the community itself to see, feel, and take pride in being Mazatec, to value the essence of what we are as an Indigenous people, and to recognize our cultural heritage as something alive and vital.

Masha Wasson

Daughter of Gordon and Valentina Wasson

  • Well, the actual ceremony itself was incredible—you have no idea what it’s going to be like. We really didn’t, because we didn’t know we were about to have hallucinations. You can stop them for a little while, actually, but you don’t want to do that.

    There are other effects on the body too. I remember feeling that you had no pain whatsoever when under the effect of the mushroom.

    The visions were very bright, very clear, very angular—at least mine were. The other thing that was true for me was that I could “hop” anywhere in the world. For example, the brother of a friend in France was in Indochina at the time, fighting for the French in the war in Vietnam. And I could go visit him over there. I could go anywhere I wanted.

    My mother also had an experience with one trip where it was all déjà vu. I had the same kind of experience too.

  • At the time, I didn’t know it would ever be used for medicinal purposes, like reducing anxiety. I don’t know much about the brain, other than I was conscious that the visions were coming from the back of my head, even though I was seeing out through my eyes.

    My mother’s thought, the very first time we tried them, was: “This is going to be used in medicine.”

    She knew instantly that it had a use.

Nick

  • Colorado, Oregon, New Mexico, and other states are looking into these programs because it's just a whole new day for mental health. I mean, we really have so little idea how mental health problems get encoded and then how to resolve them. And the antidepressants that people have been taking for the last 30–40 years are certainly not getting anywhere close to healing issues. They're just, you know, mitigating symptoms, maybe at best. So yeah, that's why I got involved too—just because I'm so excited about what's going on with this new chapter in mental health.

  • My own experience with antidepressants bears out everything I’ve read, which is that the current group of antidepressants—whether they act on serotonin, norepinephrine, or dopamine—at best, they are mitigating severe symptoms and helping people get through the day. I would say that's kind of the best-case scenario for the current round of antidepressants.

    So in my own case, if I was in a periodic bout of depression to the point where it was impacting my ability to do my work, get through my workday, attend meetings, be productive, and really be present for my colleagues, I found that the antidepressants I would take could help me be productive and functional in my workday. But they certainly weren't getting at the underlying issues that were causing me to feel depressed. And that seems to be what a lot of the literature is saying. And certainly anecdotally, pretty much everybody in this community that I speak to has had a similar experience with the current crop of antidepressants.

  • So I talked to my current talk therapist. He suggested first trying ketamine, since ketamine is legal everywhere. I went through about two months of ketamine infusions and had some very interesting experiences and some temporary relief of depression symptoms.

    But that ketamine treatment—as is still very common today, which I find really unfortunate—did not include therapy. It was more like an antidepressant model or a medicine model: come in, a nurse practitioner hooks you up to an infusion, and the infusion is supposed to treat your depression without therapy being part of it. So I probably could have gotten a lot more benefit from ketamine had therapy been included, but without the therapy component, I had very temporary relief of symptoms.

  • Luckily, my therapist had heard of a woman in Connecticut who was doing psilocybin therapy underground—a licensed therapist who did regular talk therapy and other modalities. I’ve since learned there are many licensed therapists doing regular therapy, EMDR, and other approaches, while also offering psychedelic therapy underground, at some risk to their licenses. They were willing to take that risk because they saw how helpful it was for their clients.

    So I went and did five sessions of psilocybin over two and a half years—about one session every six months.

  • In some of those earlier sessions, I had very difficult experiences—intensely unpleasant—but that’s where the healing lies. That’s why you go into these experiences: to deal with material you’ve been suppressing in order to function in daily life.

    Suppressing that material actually serves a purpose—it’s an adaptive ego function. You suppress things so you can get through your day, pay your bills, do your job, take care of your kids.

    But in these sessions, I was able to go into really painful material. Then the arc started to shift. The third session was a turning point, and the fourth and fifth sessions were very powerful and very positive—just as powerful in a positive way as the earlier ones had been difficult.

    I haven’t done any sessions since then—it’s coming up on two years—and I’ve had really no symptoms of depression or anxiety since about the third session. Life still happens—my kids still get upset with me, I still get affected by events—but I’m able to process things as part of my daily life.

    It was so transformative. My moment-to-moment, everyday experience is different and better. That’s why I wanted to go do this work in Colorado—to try to pass that on to others who need help.

  • I did my first psilocybin sessions in 2022, so it’s been almost four years. I’ve spoken to hundreds of people since then, and I haven’t spoken to anybody who didn’t have at least some version of a similar arc.

    People struggling with depression, anxiety, addiction, PTSD—we’re all often dealing with experiences we couldn’t process at the time because they were too overwhelming. So the mind adapts: “Let’s not deal with that right now.” You still have to function—whether you're a soldier, a parent, or someone with a job.

    So we accumulate these experiences and push them away, but the pain is still there. And in this therapy, there’s no way to get to the light except by going through the darkness.

    For me, one of the biggest events was my father dying when I was 12. I couldn’t process that at the time, and I lived much of my life cut off from that loss. I would just think, “That’s so sad. He’s gone. I’m a broken kid because my father died.”

    In my psilocybin sessions, one of the most powerful aspects was that it acted like a truth serum—you encounter your truth, whatever it is.

    In my case, the truth was that my father’s presence isn’t gone. He’s still part of me and part of this world. In one session, I had what felt like a kind of resurrection of my father. I was overwhelmed with love—gasping for breath. The therapist later said she almost checked on me physically, but sensed it wasn’t distress—it was something else.

    If I were religious, I might call it a born-again or spiritual experience. My body was filled with love—his love for me, my love for him.

    Other parts of my experience involved shame—things I had done that I felt deeply ashamed of. In those cases, I had to feel those emotions fully. It was very uncomfortable. But the truth that emerged was: you’re human. Everyone feels pain. Everyone causes pain. And there’s a deep well of compassion—for yourself and for others.

  • Colorado has learned from Oregon—and thanks to Oregon for going first and working through some of the early challenges that come with being on the leading edge.

    I’m training to be a psychedelic wellness facilitator. If you already have a clinical license—like a nurse practitioner or therapist—you can become a clinical facilitator. I’m entering at the wellness facilitator level, as part of a broader effort to train people to help veterans, people with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, OCD—a wide range of conditions.

    Hopefully within a year, I’ll be licensed in Colorado and helping people move toward a better path.

    It’s incredibly challenging work. Being a facilitator means supporting someone in one of the most vulnerable states they may ever experience. You have to hold a therapeutic container—offering safety, compassion, and affirmation—without bringing your own issues into the space.

    Clients may go through intense experiences, projections, and emotional releases, and you have to be able to hold that space. It’s delicate and demanding work.

Licensed Psychedelic Guide