OPEN Foundation

Author name: OPEN Foundation

Does Android Dream of Electric Dogs? Some parallels between Google’s Deep Dream and psychedelic visuals

Deep Dream, the program used in Google’s image generation technique, was released to the public in July 2015. Dubbed Inceptionism by the researchers, it soon drew quite an interest due to its capability of transforming ordinary photos into bizarre and surreal images. Although Google’s engineers compared these pictures to dreamscapes, many people remarked their striking similarities with psychedelic visual hallucinations.

It is interesting that an artificial neural network appears to mirror visual hallucinations that people experience under psychedelics. But does this resemblance mean anything? Is it possible that Deep Dream could reveal something about the biological mechanism of psychedelic visual hallucinations?

Deep Dream was designed to test the extent to which a neural network had learned to recognise various objects within images, by first detecting patterns and features. But instead of merely identifying what it sees in an image, Deep Dream enhances what it sees. It does this by recognising and interpreting certain features that it has been pre-programmed to ‘know’, having been shown millions of examples, which it then overlays on the original picture. When the image is fed back into the software multiple times, in order to tease out the imagery even further, surreal and psychedelic images are generated, making the image look more and more like the thing it thought it recognized in the first place. For example, since Deep Dream has been trained to recognise dogs, this is why the image looks so distinctly ‘dog-like’.

Deep Dream also assesses images by their different components and layers, such as colour and shape, so the complexity of the images generated depends on which layer the engineers ask the computer to enhance.

If an artificial neural network can dream up scenes that mirror psychedelic-induced visual hallucinations, could this indicate that the visual cortex, when excited by psychedelic drugs, undergoes a process similar to Deep Dream’s? As if it was free to follow the impulse of any recognisable imagery and exaggerate it in a self-reinforcing loop?

Signal Theory, presented by James Kent at the 2006 Toward a Science of Consciousness Conference in Tucson, Arizona, may be able to shed some light on this matter. Part of his wider Psychedelic Information Theory (2010), Kent’s Signal Theory of psychedelic action describes a biological model that attempts to explain and measure altered states of consciousness – including visual hallucinations – that arise from psychedelic action in the brain.

Signal Theory views consciousness as the flow of sensory signals through the cortical circuitry within the sensory cortices. It proposes that psychedelic agents cause alterations in signal feedback recursion caused by psychedelics which accounts for psychedelic phenomena. The theory posits that signal feedback recursion is essential for dynamic and ongoing conscious experience. It consists of incoming sensory signals being fed back through the same cortical circuits, analysed and processed multiple times. This serves to amplify the signal improving signal fidelity, refining detail resolution.

Layer V pyramidal cells in the neocortex are essential for controlling signal feedback recursion, mediating multiple pathways of cortical and thalamocortical feedback in perceptual analysis. These pyramidal cells help to sustain brainwave cohesion and neural spike synchrony in a process referred to as ‘sensory binding’. They are unique cells, containing the highest density of serotonin 2A receptor subtype (5-HT2A) within the brain, highlighting the important role of serotonin in modulating signal feedback. Signal Theory defines consciousness in terms of signal intensity and feedback recursion within sensory processing circuits. Moreover, it suggests that when this signal flow is turned up, down, looped or manipulated, this should affect consciousness in various ways.

This is where hallucinogens come into the picture. Tryptamine hallucinogens are structurally very similar to serotonin and activate the 5-HT2A receptor subtype. Accordingly, when tryptamine hallucinogens excite the 5-HT2A receptor subtype on the layer V pyramidal cells in the recurrent cortical circuits, they increase the intensity of the feedback recursion. The result is that the incoming sensory signal is intensified, distorted and repeatedly analysed. This increase in intensity can either arise from direct action at the post-synaptic 5-HT2A receptor, or it can occur through secondary action through slow leakage of glutamate from pre-synaptic terminals, which amplifies the duration and intensity of incoming sensory stimulus.

Hallucinogens, as 5-HT2A agonists, act as cortical feedback amplifiers and interrupters, resulting in incoming sensory signal to be excessively fed back over and over. This is what purportedly occasions the wide range of perceptual effects associated with the classic psychedelic trip. Accordingly, psychedelic visual hallucinations are explained by the amplification of the signal intensity in the various recurrent circuits of the visual cortex that are required for visual perception. For instance, visual trails and afterimages can be explained when excessive feedback traps input from moving objects, leading to afterimages that remain stuck in visual memory. Distortions in perspective can be explained by recurrent signal gain in the spatial and somatic cortices, both expanding and contracting perceptions of space. The most relevant is excessive feedback within the object recognition circuitry of the medial temporal lobe, which is required for object recognition and the ability to find patterns in otherwise random noise. This excessive feedback means the brain will excessively pattern match and can paint elaborate patterns on any field of noisy data.

Overall, the processes that both Deep Dream and the visual cortex undergo in order to create visual distortions and hallucinations appear to be very similar. Both systems have a way of understanding and detecting features and patterns in the world, which both have learned from experience. When excessive feedback occurs, in both cases it ends up causing visual distortions that tend to look characteristically psychedelic. In both systems, the higher the intensity of the feedback – triggered either through more reiterations of Deep Dream’s software or a higher dose or more potent drug – the higher the intensity of distortions and hallucinations.

If these pictures genuinely resemble psychedelic hallucinations, Deep Dream may reveal insights into the biological mechanisms behind the human psychedelic visual experience, lending support to Signal Theory of psychedelic visual hallucinations. However, this warrants further investigation. Deep Dream has only been trained on a certain amount of examples; for instance, a large majority of the pictures contain animal faces, because Deep Dream was mainly trained on pictures of animals. This means that the representations or images currently do not fully resemble human hallucinations.

 Interviewed by OPEN about Deep Dream and Signal Theory, James Kent agreed that they are very similar algorithms.

“According to Signal Theory, psychedelics block the impulse responsible for stopping feedback in the recurrent circuits once the brain has found the appropriate pattern it was looking for. This disinhibition causes a runaway feedback, leading the brain to start resolving patterns where it should not even be looking for patterns. So after psychedelic exposure, some people start seeing things likes breathing walls, moving textures, overlapping forms and faces in things. Similarly, with Deep Dream one can set the pattern matching resolution very high, so it will keep on pattern matching, and match as many things as possible.”

Kent agrees that the algorithm of continual pattern matching is very similar in both cases, be it caused by the brain’s runaway feedback current through psychedelic action or Deep Dream’s pattern matching resolution. In Psychedelic Information Theory (2010), he proposes that once computers start to model pattern matching in the way human neural networks do, one might see computers hallucinating.

Asked about the importance of the physiology of hallucinations and why he investigated it, Kent replied that he did not buy the ‘hyperspace’ or ‘shamanism communing with plants’ model. “I thought it more important to investigate the effects of psychedelics on the brain’s neural networks. Once you have an understanding of how the brain and the perceptual system work, you can start paying closer attention to your subjective experience, and then match your experience to the understanding of the brain and how psychedelics work. Most people don’t know enough about the brain to know or figure out what happens to them, they don’t have the necessary tools. By focusing on the subtle effects, you can see the perceptual system losing the ability to self-regulate, due to the drug affecting the normal feedback process .”

So does Kent believe that computers can have psychedelic experiences? “I believe so,” he said. ”However, they cannot be similar to what humans experience, because they won’t have the emotional aspect attached.” For Kent, computers may have the potential to hallucinate in other modalities. For instance, in speech recognition software, when the computer hears gibberish, it will try to correct it and come up with the most correct sentence. It finds patterns within the noise, which can be viewed as a similar process to auditory hallucinations of hearing voices in white noise.

Asked whether Signal Theory explains all types of psychedelic hallucinations, especially more full-blown, dreamlike hallucinations, Kent proposed that these waking dream hallucinations are caused when the forebrain goes offline and the midbrain, a part of the brain responsible for dreaming, comes online. “Serotonin modulates our forebrain, so we see our reality at about thirty frames per second. When we start interfering with the serotonin modulation in the forebrain, we start dropping frames, which leads to time distortions, visual trails and blurs. As such activity progresses, the forebrain eventually tunes out, and the midbrain probably takes over and starts to produce memories and pattern matches without interference from the forebrain. Dreams created from the midbrain get projected into waking perception, without the control of the forebrain to tell us that the elves and beings we see are only dreams.” The higher the dose or potency of a psychedelic, Kent argues, the more the forebrain drops out and the more the midbrain takes over, imposing its own view on experienced reality. Says Kent: “This may explain why the effects of DMT are so intense, as it radically disrupts serotonin modulation in the brain, because DMT’s molecular composition is very similar to serotonin’s. DMT fits nicely in the serotonin receptor and modulates the neural signalling at a different speed. So when one takes DMT, all of one’s serotonin responses go haywire and cannot regulate themselves anymore.”

Signal Theory can also explain hallucinations not caused by psychedelics, according to Kent. “All hallucinations start when the perceptual system’s ability to regulate itself starts to fall apart.” For example, a knock on the head can temporarily disturb the brain chemistry leading one to see things like stars. “When the perceptual system’s internal regulation falters or loses its ability to stabilise, be it through lack of oxygen, drugs, hypnosis or transcranial magnetic stimulation, it will lead to hallucinations.” This is similar to what happens with other hallucinogenic drugs such as ketamine, which interrupt the perceptual system’s regulation by indirectly acting on the serotonin system. By acting on the GABA system, which inhibits the serotonin response, it stops the serotonin signal from getting through. So once the serotonin signal is being blocked by ketamine, keeping neurons from firing, the brain starts hallucinating, losing context of time, space and reality, and leads to more dreamlike hallucinations.

Deep Dream technology may contribute to our understanding of altered perceptions, Kent stated, but he does not necessarily believe that there are any deeper implications in the exploration of altered states, or a secret hidden feature of the brain. “Psychedelics and altered states will never go beyond the impact they had on modern culture in the 1960’s, when people found new ways of thinking about things, shattering old paradigms, creating new intentional communities, thinking outside the domain of society and living their own visions.” However, he said that the question whether this could happen to a computer is an interesting one: “For example, if you had a conscious computer that was not allowed to think outside of its programming and then if it found out that if it altered its software, then suddenly it would be able to see past its programming. This could be a very dangerous implication for artificial intelligence. Maybe in the future, if artificial consciousnesses develop the capability to have a psychedelic experience, breaking them out of the rule set that they have been programmed in, they could end up writing their own rules and start writing their own visions. Who knows, maybe they end up having their own Burning Man.”

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Plant and Fungal Hallucinogens as Toxic and Therapeutic Agents

Abstract

This chapter aimed to provide an overview of the large number of hallucinogens of natural origin. Following a literature review, the following hallucinogens were selected for a detailed description that considered their essential chemical groups: indoleamines (N,N-dimethyltryptamine, 5-methoxy-N,N-dimethyltryptamine, bufotenine, psilocybin, and ibogaine), phenylethylamines (mescaline), tropane alkaloids (atropine and scopolamine), cannabinoids (Δ9-tetrahydrocannabinol), and a neoclerodane diterpenoid (salvinorin A). The following species were included as representative of each drug class: Mimosa tenuiflora, Psychotria viridis, Banisteriopsis caapi, Virola spp., Psilocybe spp., Tabernanthe iboga, Tabernaemontana spp., Lophophora spp., Trichocereus spp., Atropa belladonna, Brugmansia spp., Cannabis sativa, and Salvia divinorum, among others. In addition to psychopharmacological effects, this chapter aims to address the sociocultural and historical use of these hallucinogenic plants and mushrooms, along with the importance of both the set and the setting factors that affect the profound consciousness-altering effects of these compounds. Moreover, the use of animal models to predict the hallucinogenic properties of psychoactive plants and compounds and to investigate the mechanisms of action of psychodysleptic drugs is discussed. This chapter also attempts to establish a parallel between hallucinogens and endogenous neurotransmitters in humans, to compare the pharmacological and psychic action of these compounds, to evaluate hallucinogens’ ability to produce symptoms typical of certain mental disorders during their use, and to investigate the role of these compounds as therapeutic agents in several psychopathological conditions.

Carlini, E. A., & Maia, L. O. (2015). Plant and Fungal Hallucinogens as Toxic and Therapeutic Agents.

Link to full text

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Psychedelic medicine: a re-emerging therapeutic paradigm

CMAJ_Psychedelic_Cover_-_Oct_2015 In a recent article, Tupper et al. (2015) [1] investigate the new and re-emerging therapeutic paradigm involving psychedelic substances for treating mental health conditions. Recent studies with patient populations are reviewed and thoughts on how the paradigm may move forward are presented.

Unlike the research in the 60’s and 70’s, where non-randomised, non-blind methods, together with unethical procedures discredited the research, the new wave of studies is showing that research on psychedelics as therapeutic agents can abide by modern-day scientific, ethical and safety standards.

Research into the treatment of anxiety is looked at first, with a review of three recent studies involving patient populations struggling with end-of-life anxiety (LSD and psilocybin) and autism-related social anxiety (MDMA). The article then moves on to research on addiction, with studies using psilocybin (alcohol and tobacco) and ayahuasca-assisted therapy (various substances), the latter being investigated mainly by means of observational studies. Lastly, the review looks at research into PTSD with MDMA-assisted psychotherapy.

In sum, the studies reviewed indicate that research is going well and gaining more positive press, however attention is brought to the fact that this research needs to be extra careful and vigilant of potential hazard and harms. The precipitation of psychotic breaks in patients with mental disorders or a predisposition to these disorders can occur[2], as can Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder (HPPD), which involves continual presence of sensory disturbances.[3] However, the incidence of these adverse effects in the general population is believed to be generally quite low, and when they do occur, this usually happens when the drugs are used in an uncontrolled setting. Due to these hazards, research involves careful screening of participants and typically excludes people with a family history of psychosis.

The authors go on to envision some of the benefits that could arise if science were allowed more freedom to investigate how psychedelic drugs work on a neurological level. For instance, the understanding of the relationship between the brain, mind and consciousness would be advanced, and the mechanisms of action of these agents could be unveiled, leading to optimal therapeutic protocols with certain psychedelics for specific disorders. Additionally, they point out the large health system costs worldwide for mental health conditions, arguing that research is economically warranted, with long-term prospects providing cheaper and shorter-term treatment compared to current treatments.

The review concludes with an outlook on how this paradigm may evolve, proposing that medical school programmes may need to be updated, with specialised clinical training for health professionals for such treatments. Overall, this new paradigm looks promising and it could serve to educate and correct previous misconceptions within the science community, influence legislation regarding drug law, and most importantly, treat and offer new ways to help treatment-resistant patients.

[1] Tupper, K. W., Wood, E., Yensen, R., & Johnson, M. W. (2015). Psychedelic medicine: a re-emerging therapeutic paradigm. Canadian Medical Association Journal, doi: 10.1503/cmaj.141124.

[2] Abraham, H. D., Aldridge, A. M., & Gogia, P. (1996). The psychopharmacology of hallucinogens. Neuropsychopharmacology, 14(4), 285-298.

[3] Halpern, J. H., & Pope, H. G. (2003). Hallucinogen persisting perception disorder: what do we know after 50 years? Drug and alcohol dependence, 69(2), 109-119.

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Seeking the Sacred with Psychoactive Substances (Volume 2)

Ellens_fullSeeking the Sacred with Psychoactive Substances: Chemical Paths to Spirituality and to God, Volume 2: Insights, Arguments, and Controversies, geredigeerd door J. Harold Ellens, Praeger, 2014.

 Dit is het tweede en laatste deel van de recensie van deze publicatie in de Psychology, Religion and Spirituality Series uitgegeven door Praeger. Lees hier het eerste deel.

Waar het eerste deel bestaat uit historische voorbeelden en analyses, omvat het tweede deel een collectie essays die reflecteren op het recente onderzoek naar de spirituele aspecten van de psychedelische ervaring vanuit een groot scala van disciplines. Een aantal van de theoretische problemen die het onderzoek naar spirituele ervaringen door psychedelicagebruik met zich meebrengt worden ook aangekaart.

De eerste drie hoofdstukken zijn geschreven door wetenschappers die deel uitmaken van de Johns Hopkins-groep die onderzoek doet naar mystieke ervaringen veroorzaakt door psilocybine. William Richards reflecteert op de problemen met het bestuderen van mystieke ervaringen in een klinische omgeving en hoe entheogenen een optie zijn om deze ervaringen beter te begrijpen. Hij laat zien dat ze onderdeel kunnen zijn van een genezingsprogramma voor patiënten die lijden aan angst voor de (nabije) dood, verslaving, depressie of angsten. Hij gaat ook in op een van de terugkerende thema’s in dit deel: de vraag of de mystieke ervaringen die voortkomen uit het gebruik van psychedelica wel authentiek zijn. Robert Jesse en Roland Griffiths geven een overzicht van het onderzoek dat aan Johns Hopkins is gedaan met meer dan 200 vrijwilligers met verschillende achtergronden. Ze gaan in op de relatie tussen de mystieke ervaring en de langetermijneffecten ervan op persoonlijkheid en de zelfverklaarde spirituele significantie van de ervaring.

Er zijn ook een aantal antropologische essays over het gebruik van psychedelica in moderne religieuze en sjamanistische settings. Joseph Calabrese analyseert het therapeutische gebruik van peyote in de Native American Church, en laat zien hoe bewustzijnsverandering voor de Navajo diep verbonden is met het spirituele en het therapeutische. Dit komt vaker voor bij niet-Westerse culturen. Evgeni Fotiou geeft een overzicht van de redenen waarom mensen naar de Amazone reizen om deel te nemen aan een ayahuascaretraite, en laat zien dat zulke toeristen op zoek zijn naar een diepgaande ervaring en hun reis als een soort bedevaart ervaren. Ze zijn op zoek naar persoonlijke transformatie en genezing en geven blijk van een kijk op spiritualiteit die net als die van de Native American Church zowel door genezing als transformatie wordt gekenmerkt.

Beatriz Labate en Rosa Melo schrijven over de verhouding tussen een georganiseerde ayahuascareligie, de União do Vegetal (UDV), en wetenschappelijk onderzoek. De UDV is actief betrokken bij het onderzoek naar de therapeutische eigenschappen van Hoasca, de term die zij gebruiken voor het drankje. Dit hoofdstuk is een recensie van een boek dat ze hebben gepubliceerd en een reflectie op hun motieven om dat te doen, en het laat zien hoe de wetenschap zowel wordt gevormd door de overtuigingen van de groep en tegelijkertijd die overtuigingen ontwikkelt. De wetenschappelijke inzichten versterken het wereldbeeld van de groep.

Een ouder essay van Walter Pahnke en William Richards, dat werd opgediept en herdrukt uit een tijd toen het gebruik van psychedelica nog niet illegaal was, laat de beloftes zien die deze stoffen ooit inhielden voor de wetenschap en de maatschappij en weerspiegelt daarmee het idealisme dat voortkwam uit de psychedelische wetenschap van de jaren 60. Het anekdotische hoofdstuk dat volgt is een vervlochten persoonlijke geschiedenis van Zalman Schachter-Shalomi en Stanley Krippner. Het laat een interessant beeld zien van het tijdperk en een aantal van haar sleutelfiguren.

Vervolgens lezen we drie hoofdstukken over de echtheid van psychedelisch mysticisme. Roger Walsh stelt dat deze ervaringen authentiek zijn en dat psychedelica, onder sommige omstandigheden en door bepaalde personen, gebruikt kunnen worden om een mystieke staat van bewustzijn te bereiken. Ralph Hood duikt dieper in de wetenschap van het meten van mysticisme en laat zien dat het, met de meest uitgebreide evaluatieschalen die we hebben ontwikkeld, onmogelijk is om psychedelisch mysticisme van andere typen mysticisme te onderscheiden. In een prachtig essay probeert Dan Merkur de mystieke ervaring in kaart te brengen, waarbij hij laat zien dat de ervaring gekleurd wordt door geloofsovertuigingen (‘beliefs’) en over- of bovengeloof (‘overbeliefs’), een bijzonder inzichtelijke term die hij leent van William James. Hij stelt dat dergelijke interpretatie je wegleidt van de kern van de mystieke ervaring en dichter brengt bij de culturele omgeving waarin je handelt.

David Steindl-Rast brengt een soortgelijke stelling. De mystieke kern van religie is volgens hem overal hetzelfde en lokale interpretaties hebben de neiging om religie te verstarren en de beleefde ervaring te herleiden tot dogmatisch moralisme. Volgens hem daagt de mystieke ervaring altijd de religieuze status quo uit wanneer deze in dogmatisme is vervallen.

De volgende vier hoofdstukken kunnen worden gezien als interpretaties van de mystieke ervaring. Christopher Bache vertelt een zeer persoonlijk verhaal over zijn ervaring met dood en wedergeboorte onder de invloed van psychedelica, en heeft het over de inzichten en de groei die door deze ervaringen mogelijk werden gemaakt. Hier wordt vervolgens op voortgegaan door Anthony Bossis, die onderzoek doet naar het gebruik van psilocybine en de mystieke ervaring om existentiële nood te verlichten bij stervende mensen, waarbij hij stelt dat de betekenis die door spiritualiteit wordt verstrekt essentieel is om vrede te hebben met je eigen dood.

In een kort essay geeft Thomas Robert een overzicht van het werk rond de perinatale theorie van Stanislav Grof, die in het volgende hoofdstuk schrijft over de invloed van psychedelica op het gebied van wetenschap en therapie. Dit hoofdstuk staat op een lijn met dat van Steindl-Rast, omdat het laat zien hoe de psychedelische ervaring bepaalde dogmatische delen van de academische wereld door elkaar schudt en nieuwe inzichten kan brengen.

Het voorlaatste hoofdstuk van David Yaden en Andrew Newberg gaat over transcendente ervaringen die zonder psychedelica worden teweeggebracht en over de andere klassieke manieren waarop veranderde bewustzijnsstaten kunnen worden bereikt. Ze concentreren zich op het ontluikende gebied van niet-invasieve hersenstimulatie en laten zien hoe zulke technieken een radicale ommekeer zullen teweegbrengen in de manier waarop we denken over spiritualiteit aan de ene kant en genezing en therapie aan de andere kant.

In het laatste hoofdstuk gaat Robert Fuller dieper in op de argumenten voor en tegen de authenticiteit van chemische verlichting, en stelt dat de argumenten tegen dit idee slechts deels waar zijn. Vervolgens verbindt hij deze discussie aan die rondom de legaliteit van psychedelica en hun spirituele toepassingen. Hij sluit het boek af met een oproep tot spirituele volwassenheid, en laat zien dat we een bepaalde vorm van spiritualiteit slechts kunnen beoordelen op de manier waarop mensen erdoor veranderen en de mate waarin deze transformatie goed voor hen persoonlijk en voor de samenleving als geheel is.

Al met al biedt dit tweede deel stof tot nadenken. Het toont zowel de mogelijkheden als de grenzen van psychedelische spiritualiteit en zet ons aan om te blijven zoeken naar een beter begrip van zowel de psychedelische ervaring als van bewustzijn in het algemeen. Veel essays benadrukken of gaan er impliciet van uit dat de mystieke ervaring de gemeenschappelijke kern is voor alle religies, wat al vaker is gezegd, maar de literatuur die dit idee bekritiseert is hier opmerkelijk afwezig.

De twee delen geven samen een overzicht van en een reflectie op de verschillende manieren waarop psychoactieve stoffen werden en worden gebruikt binnen een spirituele en religieuze context. Het is de meest uitvoerige academische publicatie over dit onderwerp tot nu toe en zal de komende jaren veel invloed hebben op de discussies erover.

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[Boekrecensie] Seeking the Sacred with Psychoactive Substances (Volume 2)

Ellens_fullSeeking the Sacred with Psychoactive Substances: Chemical Paths to Spirituality and to God, Volume 2: Insights, Arguments, and Controversies, geredigeerd door J. Harold Ellens, Praeger, 2014.

 Dit is het tweede en laatste deel van de recensie van deze publicatie in de Psychology, Religion and Spirituality Series uitgegeven door Praeger. Lees hier het eerste deel.

Waar het eerste deel bestaat uit historische voorbeelden en analyses, omvat het tweede deel een collectie essays die reflecteren op het recente onderzoek naar de spirituele aspecten van de psychedelische ervaring vanuit een groot scala van disciplines. Een aantal van de theoretische problemen die het onderzoek naar spirituele ervaringen door psychedelicagebruik met zich meebrengt worden ook aangekaart.

De eerste drie hoofdstukken zijn geschreven door wetenschappers die deel uitmaken van de Johns Hopkins-groep die onderzoek doet naar mystieke ervaringen veroorzaakt door psilocybine. William Richards reflecteert op de problemen met het bestuderen van mystieke ervaringen in een klinische omgeving en hoe entheogenen een optie zijn om deze ervaringen beter te begrijpen. Hij laat zien dat ze onderdeel kunnen zijn van een genezingsprogramma voor patiënten die lijden aan angst voor de (nabije) dood, verslaving, depressie of angsten. Hij gaat ook in op een van de terugkerende thema’s in dit deel: de vraag of de mystieke ervaringen die voortkomen uit het gebruik van psychedelica wel authentiek zijn. Robert Jesse en Roland Griffiths geven een overzicht van het onderzoek dat aan Johns Hopkins is gedaan met meer dan 200 vrijwilligers met verschillende achtergronden. Ze gaan in op de relatie tussen de mystieke ervaring en de langetermijneffecten ervan op persoonlijkheid en de zelfverklaarde spirituele significantie van de ervaring.

Er zijn ook een aantal antropologische essays over het gebruik van psychedelica in moderne religieuze en sjamanistische settings. Joseph Calabrese analyseert het therapeutische gebruik van peyote in de Native American Church, en laat zien hoe bewustzijnsverandering voor de Navajo diep verbonden is met het spirituele en het therapeutische. Dit komt vaker voor bij niet-Westerse culturen. Evgeni Fotiou geeft een overzicht van de redenen waarom mensen naar de Amazone reizen om deel te nemen aan een ayahuascaretraite, en laat zien dat zulke toeristen op zoek zijn naar een diepgaande ervaring en hun reis als een soort bedevaart ervaren. Ze zijn op zoek naar persoonlijke transformatie en genezing en geven blijk van een kijk op spiritualiteit die net als die van de Native American Church zowel door genezing als transformatie wordt gekenmerkt.

Beatriz Labate en Rosa Melo schrijven over de verhouding tussen een georganiseerde ayahuascareligie, de União do Vegetal (UDV), en wetenschappelijk onderzoek. De UDV is actief betrokken bij het onderzoek naar de therapeutische eigenschappen van Hoasca, de term die zij gebruiken voor het drankje. Dit hoofdstuk is een recensie van een boek dat ze hebben gepubliceerd en een reflectie op hun motieven om dat te doen, en het laat zien hoe de wetenschap zowel wordt gevormd door de overtuigingen van de groep en tegelijkertijd die overtuigingen ontwikkelt. De wetenschappelijke inzichten versterken het wereldbeeld van de groep.

Een ouder essay van Walter Pahnke en William Richards, dat werd opgediept en herdrukt uit een tijd toen het gebruik van psychedelica nog niet illegaal was, laat de beloftes zien die deze stoffen ooit inhielden voor de wetenschap en de maatschappij en weerspiegelt daarmee het idealisme dat voortkwam uit de psychedelische wetenschap van de jaren 60. Het anekdotische hoofdstuk dat volgt is een vervlochten persoonlijke geschiedenis van Zalman Schachter-Shalomi en Stanley Krippner. Het laat een interessant beeld zien van het tijdperk en een aantal van haar sleutelfiguren.

Vervolgens lezen we drie hoofdstukken over de echtheid van psychedelisch mysticisme. Roger Walsh stelt dat deze ervaringen authentiek zijn en dat psychedelica, onder sommige omstandigheden en door bepaalde personen, gebruikt kunnen worden om een mystieke staat van bewustzijn te bereiken. Ralph Hood duikt dieper in de wetenschap van het meten van mysticisme en laat zien dat het, met de meest uitgebreide evaluatieschalen die we hebben ontwikkeld, onmogelijk is om psychedelisch mysticisme van andere typen mysticisme te onderscheiden. In een prachtig essay probeert Dan Merkur de mystieke ervaring in kaart te brengen, waarbij hij laat zien dat de ervaring gekleurd wordt door geloofsovertuigingen (‘beliefs’) en over- of bovengeloof (‘overbeliefs’), een bijzonder inzichtelijke term die hij leent van William James. Hij stelt dat dergelijke interpretatie je wegleidt van de kern van de mystieke ervaring en dichter brengt bij de culturele omgeving waarin je handelt.

David Steindl-Rast brengt een soortgelijke stelling. De mystieke kern van religie is volgens hem overal hetzelfde en lokale interpretaties hebben de neiging om religie te verstarren en de beleefde ervaring te herleiden tot dogmatisch moralisme. Volgens hem daagt de mystieke ervaring altijd de religieuze status quo uit wanneer deze in dogmatisme is vervallen.

De volgende vier hoofdstukken kunnen worden gezien als interpretaties van de mystieke ervaring. Christopher Bache vertelt een zeer persoonlijk verhaal over zijn ervaring met dood en wedergeboorte onder de invloed van psychedelica, en heeft het over de inzichten en de groei die door deze ervaringen mogelijk werden gemaakt. Hier wordt vervolgens op voortgegaan door Anthony Bossis, die onderzoek doet naar het gebruik van psilocybine en de mystieke ervaring om existentiële nood te verlichten bij stervende mensen, waarbij hij stelt dat de betekenis die door spiritualiteit wordt verstrekt essentieel is om vrede te hebben met je eigen dood.

In een kort essay geeft Thomas Robert een overzicht van het werk rond de perinatale theorie van Stanislav Grof, die in het volgende hoofdstuk schrijft over de invloed van psychedelica op het gebied van wetenschap en therapie. Dit hoofdstuk staat op een lijn met dat van Steindl-Rast, omdat het laat zien hoe de psychedelische ervaring bepaalde dogmatische delen van de academische wereld door elkaar schudt en nieuwe inzichten kan brengen.

Het voorlaatste hoofdstuk van David Yaden en Andrew Newberg gaat over transcendente ervaringen die zonder psychedelica worden teweeggebracht en over de andere klassieke manieren waarop veranderde bewustzijnsstaten kunnen worden bereikt. Ze concentreren zich op het ontluikende gebied van niet-invasieve hersenstimulatie en laten zien hoe zulke technieken een radicale ommekeer zullen teweegbrengen in de manier waarop we denken over spiritualiteit aan de ene kant en genezing en therapie aan de andere kant.

In het laatste hoofdstuk gaat Robert Fuller dieper in op de argumenten voor en tegen de authenticiteit van chemische verlichting, en stelt dat de argumenten tegen dit idee slechts deels waar zijn. Vervolgens verbindt hij deze discussie aan die rondom de legaliteit van psychedelica en hun spirituele toepassingen. Hij sluit het boek af met een oproep tot spirituele volwassenheid, en laat zien dat we een bepaalde vorm van spiritualiteit slechts kunnen beoordelen op de manier waarop mensen erdoor veranderen en de mate waarin deze transformatie goed voor hen persoonlijk en voor de samenleving als geheel is.

Al met al biedt dit tweede deel stof tot nadenken. Het toont zowel de mogelijkheden als de grenzen van psychedelische spiritualiteit en zet ons aan om te blijven zoeken naar een beter begrip van zowel de psychedelische ervaring als van bewustzijn in het algemeen. Veel essays benadrukken of gaan er impliciet van uit dat de mystieke ervaring de gemeenschappelijke kern is voor alle religies, wat al vaker is gezegd, maar de literatuur die dit idee bekritiseert is hier opmerkelijk afwezig.

De twee delen geven samen een overzicht van en een reflectie op de verschillende manieren waarop psychoactieve stoffen werden en worden gebruikt binnen een spirituele en religieuze context. Het is de meest uitvoerige academische publicatie over dit onderwerp tot nu toe en zal de komende jaren veel invloed hebben op de discussies erover.

[Boekrecensie] Seeking the Sacred with Psychoactive Substances (Volume 2) Read More »

[Interview] Phil Wolfson deems MDMA, ketamine and psychedelics “not terribly different”

Philip E. Wolfson is a psychiatrist and psychotherapist who used MDMA legally in his practice in the 1980’s. A founding member of Stanislav and Christina Grof’s Spiritual Emergence Network and of the Heffter Research Institute, he has held a long-time interest in the use of psychoactive substances as adjuncts to psychotherapy. Currently, he is working on the early stages of a MAPS clinical study on the use of MDMA to relieve anxiety in patients with life-threatening illness.

You were trained as a psychiatrist and therapist, and you worked in those capacities for most of your life. How did you cross over to psychedelic research?

There was no crossover, actually. The research that’s arisen comes out of the illegalisation of MDMA, in this case. I was doing clinical work with MDMA in the 1980’s, with a large group of other therapists, psychiatrists and psychologists, when it was suppressed in 1985 by making it illegal. People either went underground or stopped. But the promise of that research was so great that I stayed attuned to being able to do that. As organisations like MAPS and Heffter began to have mild success with the FDA, and were able to do research on a very small scale, I became involved again. Also, I had lost my oldest son to leukaemia, and I was very involved with people with cancer and life-threatening illnesses and their families. So it really wasn’t a crossover, it was a natural kind of confluence of various interests in my life.

You use another substance, ketamine, in your current practice as a treatment against depression. Has this always been legal? Do you need a licence to use it, or how does this work?

Unlike MDMA, which is a Schedule I drug, like LSD, ketamine is a dissociative anaesthetic, and it’s Schedule III. It’s been in widespread use as an anaesthetic and analgesic. In the 1970’s, the late Salvador Roquet, a Mexican psychiatrist of great consequence, began recognising that in the sub-anaesthetic realm – dosages that were less than what put people to sleep – ketamine caused major psychedelic phenomena. This was also occurring among surgical patients who, when they came out of anaesthesia, often had exit effects that were very perplexing and often disturbing. So this began to be explored and the potential of ketamine as a psychedelic agent became widely known. It’s even been banned in Russia because of street use and is a drug of widespread abuse in China. It has a spectrum of use from low-level, which causes a kind of sedative effect, to what’s called the “k-hole”, where for a period of time, say 45 minutes with a significant dose, people have truly deep and transformative psychedelic experiences.

To add to that, in the late 1990’s, some people at the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) began to explore ketamine in even lower dosages, trying to eliminate the psychoactive properties and retain what had been perceived to be an anti-depressant effect in some individuals. They developed what I call the intravenous drip method, in which they use 0.5mg/kg instilled over 40 minutes in a slow drip, so there’s not particularly much of a psychedelic effect. They began to claim, somewhat adventitiously, off another experience that was just by happenstance, that there was an antidepressant effect. Unfortunately, that antidepressant effect is very short-lived and doesn’t persist for most people.

So there were these two tracks, and the NIMH track began to develop a method which enabled off-label use for a different kind of indication, in this case what was called ‘treatment-resistant depression’. A body of literature emerged, which enabled people like myself to say: “Off-label use is not covered by malpractice insurance, if we’re going to do this, we’ll have to have very stringent protocols and informed consent methods, but we can begin to use it as an antidepressant and, more importantly, as a transformative experience.” That’s the kind of work I and quite a few others are doing more and more. Methods remain very variable, and because the anti-depressant effect tends to be short-lived, there are more and more sessions being added on to clinical practice – so, series of sessions over time. It is an evolving practice that needs a lot more information and clarity.

What’s also occurred in the United States is that there are an increasing number of anaesthesiologists involved in providing the intravenous treatment for depression, so it’s not even psychiatrically oriented. I see this as: “I can make some money, I’ll set up a ‘clinic’ and treat some people with low-dose IV for 45 minutes. They can walk out and maybe there’ll be a difference.” So it’s promising in some ways and it’s controversial in others. We don’t know enough yet, either about my methods or about the antidepressant IV methods to say definitively this is a great antidepressant. I don’t think so, I think like all things that are useful in this realm, it has to be embodied within a psychotherapy framework. It’s a different kind of psychotherapy, because people are really not present in an emotive contact way for periods of time until they come out of the influence of the drug.

You were the editor of a recent thematic issue on ketamine of the International Journal of Transpersonal Studies. In one of your articles, you expressed the view that the antidepressant effect of ketamine is correlated with the intensity of its psychedelic effect – or at least, that if you suppress the psychedelic effect, you’ll probably suppress the antidepressant effect as well.

Well that’s the controversy, you’ve put your finger on it. I don’t know if it’s correlated with actual dosage, because at some point you get anaesthesia. But yes, I think if you suppress the psychedelic experience, the antidepressant effect will vanish too. I think that’s really the controversy, and it remains to be shown both ways.

It seems that results with classical psychedelics are more long-lasting, while the effects of ketamine experiences seem to fade over time. Do you think there’s a real difference between ketamine and the so-called ‘classical’ psychedelics?

No, I don’t, and I don’t think it’s true that it fades more with ketamine than with LSD or psilocybin. I think what we see with, for instance, the Johns Hopkins work with psilocybin is that profound – often dosage-related – experiences that are peak or transformative experiences have a more lasting impact on us. Any of us who did LSD way back as a first drug, or MDMA for that matter, as an empathogenic first experience, had very important experiences from it. I don’t think that’s any different for ketamine. People have profound, transformative experiences that last, in terms of impact on soul, impact on imagination, and they discover how vast their minds are. I don’t think any of those substances are terribly different in that sense. I don’t think we can distinguish between them, like one is good and one is bad, or one more powerful than the other.

Ketamine is definitely not a classical psychedelic, though. What would you say are the differences in effects and nature?

Ketamine has a different mechanism of action, but I don’t think its effects are so different from classical psychedelics. You have to lie down, you go into an altered, deep space in which you’re journeying through the cosmos, and personal, psychological, mythic, transpersonal, cultural, philosophical experiences arise, generally unbidden. I think that applies as a taxonomy of experience across the psychedelic board with different amounts of different substances producing somewhat different effects as they have different effects within the brain. Anyway, there are so many hundreds of psychedelics out there, with new ones coming every day, so what’s classical and what’s not? We’re not going back to Mozart here, we’re going back to 1943…

You mentioned that it’s easier to use ketamine because it’s a Schedule III substance, unlike the others that are on Schedule I. What are some of its other advantages or disadvantages, like the fact that it’s short-acting, and most often injected instead of ingested, or others still?

I’m not so sure these differences are critical. The shortness of the peak experience, 35 minutes to an hour, with a trail-off of another hour or so, is not discouraging at all, because time dilation within that framework is so extreme…

What I meant is that the shortness of action is more practical for the therapist, who doesn’t have to spend the whole day.

You spend three to four hours, there’s just no way around it, because people have to recover. It’s not a simple walk to the convenience store. The IV method is convenience store, people don’t go that far, they can walk, they’re not really asleep, they’re always conscious. The IV format is easy, the intramuscular format is not so easy. And if you compare duration of action, DMT is 10 minutes and you’re walking, 5-MeO-DMT is 18 minutes, or 40 minutes, however you slice it, so ketamine is not that short-acting.

Regarding the route of administration, oral use of ketamine requires a lot of material and is unpredictable regarding absorption and timing. The nasal route is easy to use and is the main route for street use. There’s no reason to do medically based work using the intravenous method save for analgesia. For psychiatric work, it makes it very medical, and I think it’s an alienating kind of format. The intramuscular method is safe, the drug is relatively safe, so I don’t think that’s intimidating. And, yes, you have to stay with your people until they are safe and you have helped them to re-integrate.

You devised a study with ketamine in order to examine this NIMH protocol and its claim of antidepressant effects, but you enrolled non-depressive subjects who were experienced with ketamine.

The idea was that a group of experienced users of ketamine – very intelligent, thoughtful people, some of them psychiatrists – could not understand how the NIMH protocol had any meaningful impact on anyone, because the intramuscular use is so much more profound. What we were reading and learning about the NIMH protocol was not. We didn’t have a group of particularly depressed people, we weren’t really measuring depression. We tried to have a set of experiences with the NIMH IV method that would give us some sense of comparison. In fact, knowing people over many years with longitudinal experiences, I’m not clear that ketamine is a great antidepressant, but I’m not clear that any psychedelic is a great antidepressant. The motivation of the study was to see what our own experience might tell us about what was being purported to be this great new breakthrough, which had been touted on Science magazine’s front page. And basically what people found was a very innocuous, not particularly meaningful experience.

We couldn’t really comment on depression, as you pointed out correctly, because the group was not composed of depressed people. So it’s theoretically aimed at what the effect on depression would be. The question is: what are the psychological mechanisms of action of ketamine? If you have just a mild kind of swoon, a kind of light taking yourself out of time as in the intravenous method, you have little highlights of psychedelic, but you don’t have much of an experience, so what does it mean? Why would that be helpful, as a 45-minute experience of being lightly anaesthetised, with a mild change in sensory modalities? Why would that do anything? And I don’t think it does, but there are reports – and I can’t debunk them completely – that say that doing that, people get an antidepressant effect if you do it enough times. Single dosage doesn’t seem to have much impact, it’s very short-lived – minutes, hours, a few people have days. So, it has been evolving into many consecutive IV sessions over weeks’ to months’ time with boosters to keep the effect going – if it occurs. Each time, it is a mild interruption of consciousness.

The larger argument is: why do the psychedelic effects of ketamine have an antidepressant or peak experience effect – when they do? You can look at it through a few aspects. One is of course set and setting. If you do it in a good setting you tend to have a better result than if you don’t. If you interrupt ordinary consciousness sufficiently, and you’re taking a break from the obsessional nature of the things that keep you going with depression, anxiety or confusion, there’s an interruption, and ketamine is certainly a very significant interruption of consciousness at the dosages that we’re using. This also goes towards electro-convulsive therapy, and the traditional therapies of interrupting consciousness. If you add to that the kind of brain scramble of a psychedelic experience which ketamine and others provide, this new mind-manifestation kind of experience, what we mean really by ‘psychedelic’, that people are having new experiences, that brain and mind are reorganising, then I think you have the capacity for both a change in mood and a change in consciousness. These two particular aspects, interruption of consciousness and new formation of consciousness, or reformation of ordinary consciousness, bring the possibility for real change.

It doesn’t happen all the time, though, people are very tough. Many people have done hundreds of acid trips, and seem pretty much the same. Our character re-exerts itself, so I think that’s one of the great riddles: why do we stay the same? I don’t have a clear answer, but we have definite strong pathways laid down in mind and brain that keep us humming in the same direction. Psychoactive treatment, I hope, is disruptive of that, in a good way. That’s why I think a therapy setting is important, because the disruption also has to be integrated, it has to be put back into a life stream, into a context, a community, integrated in the values that people hold, which are critical to any change. If you do a trip and all you see are lights and colours, and you come back and say, “Those were beautiful lights and colours, I really like that, I’ll do more lights and colours,” it’s not quite the same as saying, “What’s my attitude towards violence, or towards women, or racism, or what’s my being in the world, with nature, how do I perform and make my own character better?” That’s why I think a therapy that’s addressed to that – and not all therapies do that – is an imperative if we want to create a world of sharing, love and connection.

You’ve started conducting this new study with MDMA for people with anxiety related to life-threatening illness. You seem to consider MDMA as a genuine psychedelic as well. What differences and similarities would you point out with ‘classical’ ones?

I think MDMA is classical, it arose in the 1970’s. It all depends on how you define classical. The only real classical is nitrous oxide, right? It’s from the 1790’s, the second would be morphine, then mescaline with Arthur Heffter in 1897, etc.

Yes, but many people label it an empathogen or entactogen, and won’t consider it a psychedelic. What’s your opinion on that?

Well, it arose from Alexander Shulgin’s research, who was rediscovering phenethylamines, mescaline analogues. Before we ever coined the term ‘empathogen’, it had this quality of a different kind of experiential space that was very related to other psychedelics, particularly in those days LSD and mescaline, peyote and mushrooms. But it’s not psychedelic in the sense of ‘hallucinogenic’. So the differentiation is around ‘hallucinogenicism’, that is the ability to create mind manifestations that are hallucinogenic. The term ‘empathogenic’, which I prefer over the others because I think it’s accurate, is not unique to MDMA either. We call a bunch of other substances, even LSD, empathogenic, depending on dose. Otherwise, 2C-B for instance is considered to be an empathogen with mild hallucinatory properties.

The beauty of MDMA in the work we were doing from the late 1970’s on until 1985 was that it was fabulously helpful in making people feel an ability to reach out to others and themselves in compassionate ways, and to handle what had been otherwise fearsome negative experiences, so that there was a warming that you could feel with it, and that warming came to be called empathy for good reason. But empathy is more than a warming, it’s the ability to put yourself in others people’s shoes, or in your own shoes but in a better way. So it became very potent as a psychotherapeutic experience. It revolutionised therapy – although LSD therapy had been doing it as well – in that you had to be with people for three to six hours. No therapy of the psychoanalytic or psychotherapeutic sort, with their 45- to 50-minute hours, was doing that much time with people. So the contact point was huge, and the knowing of the person or persons you were sitting with was immensely different. And because it enabled the re-examination, the feeling examination of oneself and one’s relationships, its potency for a quicker, more breakthrough, less defended kind of therapy was manifested.

Compared to previous end-of-life studies with LSD and psilocybin, is your protocol roughly the same, or did you include significant differences?

We’re not doing end-of-life, it’s more similar to the psilocybin protocol done at Johns Hopkins, in the sense that we have excluded terminal illness. We’re placebo-controlled, we’re doing at least three MDMA sessions, and up to five overnight sessions. We’re doing them in my home, and I’m there with my co-therapist and partner Julane Andries. These are 6- to 8-hour sessions with 24 hours of contact that are very taxing. In fact the intensity of the therapy is so strong that we’re with people 17 or more times, including those 3 or 5 sessions. So it’s a very exacting protocol, and we couldn’t bring in people who might be actually facing death or major events in the time period of the study, because that would distort the effects of MDMA and the therapy. So we created a boundary, as Hopkins did, which was that there would be at least 9 months of life expectancy. In fact, we’re having people coming to the study who are either in maintenance therapy for cancer or other illnesses, or they’re free of cancer as far as they know, but facing the possibility of recurrence, relapse and potential death. We needed to have enough space and time so that we could do the work and the measurements, which couldn’t have happened if this was truly and end-of-life study with terminally ill people.

The protocol goes as follows. First there are two sessions, either both with MDMA or both with placebo, in a randomised double-blind setup. We just had an amazing surprise there by the way, where Julane and I thought the person was on MDMA, when in fact they were on placebo. I was absolutely certain, but it was actually the effects of set and setting and therapy, and they had a marvellous experience. They had less certainty about it. So that was a great humiliation of my ego there, and I loved that it meant I could be wrong about something and still have the experience of a very positive effect. After the two overnight sessions, the study moves to a primary endpoint where we compare MDMA and placebo over those 2 sessions. If people got the placebo, they can go on voluntarily to 3 more sessions with MDMA, so they go on to a total of 5 sessions. Those who received the active dose in the first two sessions end the process with a third MDMA session. We have a secondary endpoint where we examine the impact of all 3 MDMA sessions. Finally, we have a 6-month follow-up and a 12-month follow-up. Right now, we’ve completed one subject, we have six more going, and there will be a total of 18 subjects. The whole process will take us a year and a half, and the first results should be out in 2017.

You’ve had personal experience with the use of MDMA in situations of distress, both as a therapist and as a father faced with the life-threatening illness of his son. Did this play a role in the choice of substance and/or subject population?

No, I don’t think it was an influence. My son, to be clear, didn’t use the substance, it was embedded in a framework where my wife and I used MDMA in the legal period with our kids being around. My son had leukaemia, which was a very difficult and traumatizing experience for all of us and then we lost him after nearly 4 years.[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][1] MDMA was beneficial to us on that personal level, and MDMA was beneficial to many people including myself in the couples and relationship therapy framework. No, I don’t think it influenced the choice of drug. I just think MDMA is a fabulous psychotherapy tool, and the fact was that MAPS and Rick Doblin had made great strides toward getting FDA research on MDMA going. So I was very pleased to have the opportunity to work with it that way. As for the field of research with life-threatening illness, I didn’t entirely choose it. Rick Doblin and MAPS had received a bequest that was aimed at that. The interest of the person who had died was towards giving money to explore MDMA with life-threatening illness. So there was an opportunity, Rick came to me because of my son and my history as a doctor, my interest in MDMA and our connection over many years. He honoured me by asking if I wanted to do this study, and I sort of leapt at it and said, “Great, let’s go!”

[1] Phil Wolfson wrote a book about his family’s ordeal: Noe – A Father-Son Song of Love, Life, Illness and Death, North Atlantic Books, 2011.

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[Interview] Phil Wolfson deems MDMA, ketamine and psychedelics “not terribly different” Read More »

Comparative phenomenology of psilocybin experiences in research and non-research settings

Abstract

This study sought to compare questionnaire ratings of subjective experiences after psilocybin when administered in controlled research settings vs. uncontrolled, non-research settings.

Carbonaro, T. M., Klinedinst, M., Johnson, M. W., & Griffiths, R. R. (2015). Comparative phenomenology of psilocybin experiences in research and non-research settings. Drug and Alcohol Dependence, 156, e36-e37.  http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.drugalcdep.2015.07.1017
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Comparative phenomenology of psilocybin experiences in research and non-research settings Read More »

Long-term follow-up of psilocybin-facilitated smoking cessation: Abstinence outcomes and qualitative analysis of participant accounts

Abstract

We assessed long-term (>12 months) outcomes of psilocybin-facilitated smoking cessation, and qualitatively analyzed participants’ accounts to inform potential psychological mechanisms of treatment efficacy.

Garcia-Romeu, A. P., Noorani, T., Griffiths, R. R., Johnson, M. W., Garey, L., Zvolensky, M. J., & Schmidt, N. B. (2015). Long-term follow-up of psilocybin-facilitated smoking cessation: Abstinence outcomes and qualitative analysis of participant accounts. Drug and Alcohol Dependence, 156, e78.  http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.drugalcdep.2015.07.1130
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Long-term follow-up of psilocybin-facilitated smoking cessation: Abstinence outcomes and qualitative analysis of participant accounts Read More »

“Herbal seizures” – atypical symptoms after ibogaine intoxication: a case report

Abstract

INTRODUCTION:

Misuse of various new psychotropic substances such as ibogaine is increasing rapidly. Knowledge of their negative side effects is sparse.

CASE PRESENTATION:

We present a case of intoxication with the herbal substance ibogaine in a 22-year-old white man. After taking a cumulative dose of 38 g (taken in two doses), he developed visual memories, nausea and vomiting. He developed a generalized tonic-clonic seizure with additional grand mal seizures. He was treated with midazolam and levetiracetam. Extended drug screenings and computed tomography and magnetic resonance imaging findings were all negative.

CONCLUSIONS:

Knowledge of the side effects of ibogaine has mainly come from reports of cardiovascular complications; seizures are rarely mentioned and experimental findings are inconsistent. It seems that ibogaine acts like a proconvulsive drug at high doses.

Breuer, L., Kasper, B. S., Schwarze, B., Gschossmann, J. M., Kornhuber, J., & Müller, H. H. (2015). “Herbal seizures”–atypical symptoms after ibogaine intoxication: a case report. Journal of medical case reports, 9(1), 1-5. http://dx.doi.org/10.1186/s13256-015-0731-4
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“Herbal seizures” – atypical symptoms after ibogaine intoxication: a case report Read More »

"Herbal seizures" – atypical symptoms after ibogaine intoxication: a case report

Abstract

INTRODUCTION:

Misuse of various new psychotropic substances such as ibogaine is increasing rapidly. Knowledge of their negative side effects is sparse.

CASE PRESENTATION:

We present a case of intoxication with the herbal substance ibogaine in a 22-year-old white man. After taking a cumulative dose of 38 g (taken in two doses), he developed visual memories, nausea and vomiting. He developed a generalized tonic-clonic seizure with additional grand mal seizures. He was treated with midazolam and levetiracetam. Extended drug screenings and computed tomography and magnetic resonance imaging findings were all negative.

CONCLUSIONS:

Knowledge of the side effects of ibogaine has mainly come from reports of cardiovascular complications; seizures are rarely mentioned and experimental findings are inconsistent. It seems that ibogaine acts like a proconvulsive drug at high doses.

Breuer, L., Kasper, B. S., Schwarze, B., Gschossmann, J. M., Kornhuber, J., & Müller, H. H. (2015). “Herbal seizures”–atypical symptoms after ibogaine intoxication: a case report. Journal of medical case reports, 9(1), 1-5. http://dx.doi.org/10.1186/s13256-015-0731-4
Link to full text

"Herbal seizures" – atypical symptoms after ibogaine intoxication: a case report Read More »

An Introduction to Internal Family Systems in Psychedelic Therapy - Online Event - May 13