Interesting and I suppose disturbing article. The hand in hand of psychedelic fascism.
The thing that strikes me is that idea of "bringing something back". And how this new breed of psychonaut think of themselves as astronauts (this article linked to in the one version posted https://newrepublic.com/article/169525/psychonauts-training-psychedelics-dmt-extended-state
I've been on maybe 10 trips in the last 2 or 3 months, but I've realised now that all bar a couple were very low dose, probably pointless really, and combined with alcohol so not proper at all.
But the last one, exhausted after a day of painting thd lounge, and having had a couple of beers with a friend, a really pleasant evening, so just grabbed a handful, but then made a point of going outside. And there was a point where I was on the sofa, and looking at this little monkey god from India I've put upon the light, hanging from the ceiling, and I had this feeling he was looking at me in judgement. And I went very swiftly from a place of careless mirth to a place of sadness, but then had the feeling that it was just me doing it all, my will, and I could take myself back.
And thinking back to my experience with the tincture in 2020, which did feel high dose in that it stopped me in my tracks, I struggled to walk, took 3 hours to do a journey that is normally 45 mins. how I got this sort of feeling that phones and technology were OK, that you could think of them in the same way as you think of leaves. How that all fed into my unexpected fascination with trees (I think I was unknowingly engaging in forest bathing during the early days of the pandemic, when I was visiting the forest and magic tree several times a week).
I was listening to a mckenna lecture the other day while painting and he was saying the low dose is the worst thing people Dan do. I think luke and third have also made that point.
But the other thing is about the connection with something real world, what the article says about the psychedelic tradition in indeginous cultures being rooted in a tradition of some sort, which of course is the bit that we unmoor as unnecessary when we Jack it up now.
Words of caution.