Psychedelic Fear — Cults, Shrooms & Why I Must Brave the Unknown
Two Saturdays ago I visited a quaint bookstore on the other side of the city and picked up a copy of Tao Lin’s Trip: Psychedelics, Alienation & Change. Trip is part drug memoir, part philosophical discussion of the ethnobiologist Terrence McKenna, and part conspiracy exposé about the US government’s efforts to quash the dissent-inspiring powers of psilocybin, LSD, DMT, and peyote.
As I paid for the book, the 20-something-year-old college student ringing up my purchase said, “I’ve read this one; it was good. But I’m too afraid to try.”
“Me too,” I said, smiled, and walked out of the store.
At least he was honest. Most people are afraid to acknowledge their fears. Instead, they employ a litany of psychological defense mechanisms to escape their cowardice. Think back to the last time you accusatorially asserted to a friend: “You’re just afraid”. What was the response?
“I’m not afraid. It’s just that….(insert excuses)”
Fear & Religious Trauma Syndrome
I know the limiting world of fear all too well. Upon awakening from the psychological captivity of my upbringing as a Jehovah’s Witness, I developed a poignancy for subconscious fear. Fear of expulsion from the community, disappointing the Creator of the Universe, and of being infected with the independent spirit of a world under Satan’s influence¹ is ever-present in the mind of a devout Jehovah’s Witness. Deconstructing the fear-based coercion of my religion helped hone my skills for identifying fear in others, and in moments of particular clarity during mindfulness practice, my own. Prior to disillusionment, if you had told me that I was living in fear, I would have responded “I’m not afraid. It’s just that…(insert theological excuse)”
At the lowest point of my journey through Religious Trauma Syndrome (RTS) I finally mustered up the courage to seek help beyond what the congregation elders could offer; help from a licensed psychotherapist. My anxiety and depression had gone untreated for months, years. But when my symptoms escalated to include intrusive homicidal and suicidal ideation, that could only be calmed by daily Xanax use, it was time to seek outside help. My religious fear was killing me.
My therapist was the first to identify my subconscious fears. I had alexithymia for fear; I couldn’t recognize it in myself. I thought that my troubling psychological state was because of my guilt for failing God. Indeed, fear of displeasing Jehovah is described in Jehovah’s Witness literature as the healthy functioning of one’s God-given conscience².
“That’s not guilt,” my therapist said as I explained my psychological crisis, “what you are describing sounds a lot like fear.”
Separating these two affective sensations (guilt and fear) was a gateway for me. I analyzed every experience of guilt in consciousness and asked myself whether it was really guilt (remorse) or actually just fear; fear of rejection, fear of punishment from God, fear of the unknown. It was a turning point. I vowed that I would never again hold back from doing something good for someone out of fear of social reprisal; be it something good for someone else, or something good for me. The affective sensation of fear has become a signal for me; beckoning me to deconstruct its source and bravely press toward what awaits beyond it.
Why Are We Afraid of Psychedelics?
In Trip, Tao Lin does an excellent job of identifying the reasons for the average American’s fear of psychedelics. He explains the role of the government, big pharma, and authoritarianism in creating the current zeitgeist regarding psychedelics. Like Lin, ever since the days of the D.A.R.E program in grade school, I believed psychedelics to be the evil kings and queens of the dark drug underworld. They were in a league of their own and didn’t hang out with alcohol, cannabis, cocaine, or heroin.
Trip wasn’t the first time that I had read of the benefits of psychedelics. During my liberation from the censored and curated world of Jehovah’s Witnesses, I turned to popular science and philosophy books to fill my epistemological gaps. Among others, Richard Dawkins’ Science In the Soul and Sam Harris’ Waking Up helped me to understand that spirituality is not monopolized by religion (or even God, for that matter). Harris speaks at length about the value of psychedelics to the spiritual seeker. Later, I read Aldous Huxley’s The Perennial Philosophy (1945) wherein he enumerates the mystical commonalities of the world’s great faiths. Huxley’s commentary is profound; it also describes the transcendent spiritual powers of psychedelics.
More recently, my rather enlightened and forward-thinking psychiatrist suggested I look into psilocybin. Of course, I would have to acquire it clandestinely, and, he said, “once you’ve tapered off the fluoxetine”.
Now, the only thing holding me back is what the humble book store clerk identified:
“I’m afraid”
“Me too”
Afraid of what? Shunning from our religious communities and disappointing the Biblical god? No, the bookstore clerk is not in a closed religious community like I am. Fear of legal repercussions? He didn’t look like the kind of guy that has never enjoyed cannabis on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
No, it’s a different kind of fear. A fear of enlightenment. A fear that our minds will not be able to handle the implications of our deconstructed cognitive systems under the psychedelic influence. Fear that the cherished normative boundaries behind which we hide from our true potential could dissolve and render us untethered to the fabric of our fellow man. Something like that, I think.
Because of my years as a Jehovah’s Witness, I understand the truncating effect that ideological totalism has on the human mind. In fact, I wrote a book about it. I’m fascinated with the mechanics of thought reform and deeply troubled by the repercussions of such influences on humanitarian progress and individual mental health.
My journey away from the radicalism of my formative years has been enlightening thus far. And leveraging psychedelics for future growth surely falls within the contractual obligations of my anti-fear vow. I marvel at the possibilities of psychedelics for deconstructing limiting subconscious beliefs and biases, challenging perceptive assumptions, transcending normative thinking, and uncovering the nonreligious spiritual experience.
Last night, I bought some germination jars. I’m going on a trip. Are you coming?
To read more about the PIMO experience and get updates on the release of my book A Voice From Inside — Notes On Religious Trauma Syndrome In a Captive Religion, drop your email below.
Or head to wallisbooks.com to get a pre-release eBook titled Chronicling Captivity — The Path Towards High Control.
References:
(1) Watchtower Bible & Tract Society (2010) What Jehovah’s Day Will Reveal. The Watchtower, July 15th, 2010, p. 4. Retrieved from: https://wol.jw.org/en/wol/d/r1/lp-e/2010521?q=unknowingly&p=par
(2) Watchtower Bible & Tract Society (1998) How Can You Fear a God of Love? The Watchtower, January 8th, 1998, p.26. Retrieved from: https://wol.jw.org/en/wol/d/r1/lp-e/101998007?q=fear+conscience&p=par
