Introduction
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Description
Embark on a seven-year journey through the mind, where the boundaries of reality blur under the influence of LSD. This raw and unflinching memoir reveals a quest for truth, guided by psychedelic experiences. Through intensely personal and philosophical explorations, the author confronts fundamental questions about consciousness, morality, and the essence of reality.
From experiencing the heights of mystical insight to the depths of existential despair, including the deep impact of personal loss, the narrative explores the limits of rational thought, the realms of mysticism, and the profound effects of love and grief. It challenges conventional views on identity, tradition, and the sacred, offering a bold exploration of what it means to truly know oneself and the world.
It’s a book is for those intrigued by the transformative power of psychedelics, seekers of philosophical and spiritual truths, and anyone interested in the intersection of science, mysticism, and religion. It offers a personal exploration of the depths of human experience, crafted with vulnerability and honesty.
Author
Tiago Faleiro completed his MSc in Neuroscience at King’s College London, where he focused his thesis on the impact of psychedelic therapy on Major Depressive Disorder, following undergraduate studies in Philosophy and Psychology. He has also contributed to the scientific dissemination of psychedelic therapy as an Honorary Research Assistant at Drug Science.
Table of Contents
VOLUME 1
- Chapter 1 - Divine Journeys
- Chapter 2 - The Unknown
- Chapter 3 - Finding the Roots
- Chapter 4 - Unity in Duality
- Chapter 5 - The Other
- Chapter 6 - The Inward Hike
VOLUME 2
- Chapter 1 - Chasing the White Rabbit
- Chapter 2 - The Mystery of Consciousness
- Chapter 3 - Demons
- Chapter 4 - Despair
VOLUME 3
- Chapter 1 - Anchors of Being
- Chapter 2 - Meaning and Technology
- Chapter 3 - Searching for the Real
- Chapter 4 - The Burden
VOLUME 4
Acknowledgements
My mother, who passed away in the middle of my writing this book, deserves my deepest gratitude for her endless love and for showing me what it truly means to be human. She was always there to encourage my path in life, no matter how unusual it seemed. She always encouraged my intellectual pursuits specifically, believing I would somehow turn my life around. Remarkably, that did end up being the case, but for any outsider at the time, it would have sounded entirely absurd and almost impossible. It saddens me that she never knew about this book, or even my experiments with psychedelics. I wanted to protect her from needless worry, and the social stigma surrounding psychedelics at the time was much heavier than it is now. Recent acceptance of their use is a testament to their value, showing how much the world has changed. I only wish I could have shared these pages with her. Almost nothing in the world could have made her happier than seeing how I crawled out of a materialistic and nihilistic worldview and embraced Christianity.
My father also deserves profound thanks for all his sacrifices, most of which I didn’t even recognize in my youth. Like my mother, he offered unwavering support for every path I pursued, even when my choices seemed deeply unconventional in society’s eyes. He inspired me not to fear going against the tide, often in ways he’s probably unaware of himself. I regret that I only came to appreciate the extent of his sacrifices when I was much older, but that seems an unavoidable consequence of growing up.
I am especially grateful to my partner, Erica. In more ways than I can count, she has turned me into a far better person than I ever imagined. I have made countless mistakes, yet she has remained patient and compassionate. Through her, and only her, I came to understand what true love is. All the philosophical discoveries and ponderings you’ll read in this book are impossible to grasp intellectually without experiencing this most intimate and genuine aspect of reality. Without her, I would lack any true comprehension of what life truly is, and even setting aside its intellectual facet, I would have stayed lost—fixated on what I shouldn’t be and ignoring what truly mattered. She not only helped me discover the meaning of life, she helped me live it. And with every passing day, month, and year, I feel myself living it a bit more fully, thanks to her alone. She also kept a remarkably open mind toward both my intellectual pursuits and my explorations with psychedelics, even though none of it belonged to her world before we met. She had every reason to be skeptical, but instead chose curiosity and empathy, offering support on a path that could easily have alienated others. Her faith in me remains one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received.
I also owe much gratitude to my stepmother, extended family, and close friends for their support in countless ways. But I’m equally indebted to individuals I never met or barely interacted with. Many thinkers have influenced me profoundly; their insights form the very grammar of not just this book, but my entire being.
Jonathan Pageau revealed the profound depths of Christianity, repeatedly overturning my worldview with his ability for translating ancient wisdom into a form accessible to our modern, mechanically oriented worldview. I’m deeply grateful for his work, which challenges me daily to look beyond the confines of modernity. He also introduced me to Orthodox Christianity, enabling me to view faith from a fresh perspective and see religion in a way that, at the time, seemed almost unrecognizable to me.
John Vervaeke has likewise been a pivotal influence, merging his extensive expertise in cognitive science with a far-reaching understanding of meaning and its many dimensions. Since completing his course on Buddhism and Cognitive Science in 2019, I’ve been utterly fascinated by his work, which proved it’s possible to be scientifically rigorous while also honoring religious traditions and pursuing wisdom. His contributions have been instrumental in revealing how these seemingly dissimilar worlds can not only coexist but illuminate each other. Carl Jung was an enormous influence on my early thought, as is evident throughout the first volume of this work. This book—and in many ways, my current self—would not exist without the transformative impact of his theories on the psyche and the archetypal underpinnings of human thought and behavior. Although Jung no longer serves as the central pillar of my thinking, his perspectives remain profoundly insightful, as they serve as a valuable entry point for anyone transitioning from a materialistic to a more spiritually and psychologically integrated worldview.
Lastly, Martin Heidegger has continuously shown me the limits of my thought, teaching me to view the world with fresh eyes, and that there is always something true beyond what we can reach. His philosophical explorations into the nature of Dasein and our interactions with “the world” have provided a new vocabulary for understanding existence, pushing me to contemplate the broader implications of our Being. Of course, there have been many other profound influences on me as well, including Socrates, Plato, Augustine, Kant, Kierkegaard, Martin Heidegger, Simone Weil, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Iris Murdoch, Albert Camus, Mircea Eliade, Roger Scruton, Pierre Hadot, Iain McGilchrist, Peter Sjöstedt-Hughes, Byung-Chul Han, George Lakoff, and countless others who have shaped my views on philosophy, religion, and the human condition. Their cumulative impact has guided me to this point, and I will always remain indebted to them. For most, I don’t name them as distant historical figures or icons of the past. Instead, I regard them as close friends, with whom I’ve shared countless hours of deep conversation.
I was also profoundly influenced by scientific disciplines beyond the humanities, including psychology, psychiatry, cognitive science, and neuroscience. Fields like history, computer science and anthropology were equally very helpful. Moreover, the indispensable roles of fiction and art cannot be overstated. Together, they all form a vast, interconnected web that illuminates the nature of reality. I am deeply grateful to live in an era that allows me to access with such ease everything from ancient wisdom to the latest scientific advancements.
Preface
This book is a chronicle of my explorations into consciousness, reality, and spirituality through the lens of LSD. I’ve called it a “psychedelic memoir”. It’s an odd and unusual book that doesn’t fit predefined labels of book genres. But at the end of the day, it’s a personal journey of philosophical inquiry, psychological introspection, and spiritual seeking, documented through a series of psychedelic experiences and reflections. In style, it’s a work largely inspired by Augustine’s Confessions and Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations. Like Augustine, I’m writing honestly about my struggles and how my spiritual beliefs have changed over time. And like Marcus Aurelius, I’m mostly jotting down my thoughts as they come to me, as if I’m talking to myself. Both were very influential for me, philosophically and stylistically.
I was born in 1994. I first became interested in psychedelics and began researching the topic when I was 18 years old. It took four years of reading and consideration until I finally decided to try them, having my first experience in 2016, having a few additional experiences that same year. I started this book in 2017. LSD is the only psychedelic drug I’ve ever taken—or any serious drug, for that matter—besides mild stimulants like caffeine, some nootropics, and alcohol, the latter of which I only use socially. I’ve never even gotten drunk, to exemplify that I most certainly don’t seek drug experiences for fun or entertainment. My main interest in psychedelics stems from their power and potential to explore reality, consciousness, and the possibility for personal transformation. For those unfamiliar with psychedelics or who may harbor some stigma toward their use, I’ve included a great deal of background information on the topic in Appendix I. It provides an overview of what psychedelics are, how they work, and the context in which they’re often explored. It’s highly recommended to read this appendix before diving into the first chapter, as it will help clarify any misconceptions and provide a solid foundation for understanding the experiences documented in this book.
Before writing this book, most of my sessions involved low doses—around 100 mcg or sometimes as little as 50 mcg. For reference, a typical LSD dose is 75 to 150 mcg, so mine would be considered light. Although I don’t have anything against higher doses, I feel I gain so much from low to moderate ones that I currently see little benefit in going higher—though I’ll likely explore that in the future. One issue with high doses is how much of the experience you can meaningfully “bring back.” The gap between the “high you” and the sober you increases significantly, often leading to insights that look like nonsense later. There’s a joke in psychedelic circles about someone who gets super high and discovers the meaning of life, then finds that all he wrote down was “banana.” That doesn’t mean the experience has no value—such loosened thinking can be very creative—but for me, it’s a trade-off I’m not willing to make yet, given how much I still reap from moderate doses.
It’s also worth noting that my first few LSD sessions documented here aren’t what you might call “standard” psychedelic trips. Many accounts describe deep spiritual or mystical aspects and a lot of self-reflection on past traumas or difficult experiences, but my earliest sessions in this book didn’t really go in that direction. I’d already done a great deal of introspection in 2016, which I found enormously beneficial. People often compare a single trip to doing years of therapy in a few hours, and I couldn’t agree more. However, the potency of that kind of deep introspection diminishes with repeated sessions, as it’s material you already covered. From a spiritual standpoint, my first sessions didn’t feel particularly mystical. Initially, I assumed it was because my dosages weren’t high enough. Later experiences proved me wrong: a powerful spiritual or religious experience can occur on surprisingly low or moderate doses, as you’ll see in parts of this book. In fact, I ended up being haunted by them against my will. Still, in the early chapters, my experiences were more philosophical than overtly spiritual.
I also want to clarify how my writing style has evolved over time. In the beginning, I was very attached to the idea of a purely “authentic” real-time psychedelic writing style, wanting the text to be as raw as possible, almost like a direct transcript of my thought process while tripping. But over time, I realized that it’s more fruitful—and more helpful to readers—to flesh out or clarify certain points after the fact. While I still write the bulk of each entry during the session itself, I now view psychedelics more as a tool for creativity and insight, rather than insisting on absolute real-time authenticity. It’s also helpful to note that I enter a more creative headspace during these sessions, and my focus bounces around. If one topic reminds me of another, I pivot right away. Sometimes the connections are obscure, even to my sober self reading later, and references may pop up from something I was recently reading. This leads to a somewhat scattershot sequence of ideas, but it’s also the point of this “trip-log” format. Within a single chapter, you may notice big swings in style or subject matter. As a reader, you’ll move through the text in a linear and progressive way, but my writing process is irregular: sometimes I write for long stretches, other times just for five minutes at a time with lengthy breaks. My level of intoxication also fluctuates. I don’t consider this a flaw—just an organic result of how I chose to document these sessions.
My worldview has undergone significant changes since I began these experiments, shifting from a primarily scientific perspective to what I now consider a religious one. Although defining a “religious worldview” is far from straightforward. As you read, you’ll notice this evolution, where both scientific skepticism and religious acceptance find their roles questioned and redefined. This book navigates the complex interplay between these two realms, which do not always conform neatly to conventional categories. I realize this can be challenging for readers firmly rooted in either camp. Yet I believe any initial skepticism can be gradually eroded as the book unfolds. Not because I aim to prove my worldview absolutely correct, but because I hope to show it as a reasonable perspective—one rooted in philosophical and scientific knowledge, and shaped by my own life experiences.
Originally, my logs were concise because I was writing mostly for myself, which meant I often didn’t elaborate on key points or expand my arguments. In many instances, the ideas were sound, but I used technical terminology that could be unfamiliar to readers who haven’t studied psychology or philosophy. I never wanted the book to feel elitist; rather, I aimed for it to be accessible to a wide audience. Without some explanation, however, many sections could be nearly incomprehensible. Initially, I tried using extensive footnotes, hoping those already familiar with certain concepts could read straight through, while newcomers could turn to the footnotes when needed. But it made the text look cluttered, and flipping back and forth was cumbersome for those who did need them.
That’s why I decided to incorporate these clarifications directly into the main text. This choice makes the book far more approachable for the average reader. It does, however, create a downside: occasionally, the writing may feel like it’s dragging, since I pause to explain terms that some might consider basic knowledge in philosophy, psychology, history, or religion. I’m aware this can reduce the flow of ideas, and I apologize for that. Yet, I believe it’s a worthwhile trade-off, as it ensures these concepts—some of which are profoundly important—remain understandable to anyone picking up this book. While it’s a bit extreme and I don’t always hold this standard, I’ve tried to often think that I should write in a way that would be at an appropriate level to be understood by my own grandma - who only received the most basic education. Ultimately, I feel that achieving greater accessibility for these vital ideas far outweighs the drawbacks of a slightly slower narrative pace. Admittedly, this differs from typical academic or philosophical writing, where an assumed baseline of knowledge lets authors skip certain details. But for me, making these insights clear to a broader audience is paramount. I’ve also included a glossary at the end of the book to help with any technical terms you might forget along the way. It may not be totally complete, and I apologize for that – unlike most books, I’ve done all the writing and editing myself, without the help of a publisher or editor.
My sessions follow a loose structure to try to optimize the experience. I usually meditate first, to center myself and begin with a calm and focused mind. For most sessions, this is followed by watching a movie. The very first session in this book was the first time I tried that approach. It allows me to transition from sober to high without just waiting around, and it gives me immediate material to reflect on. I generally time the dose so that LSD starts taking effect around a quarter of the way into the movie. Once the movie ends, I open a Google Doc and type whatever crosses my mind. I go back and forth between typing and lying in bed listening to music, getting up whenever an idea strikes. Each chapter represents one session, but within each session, you’ll often see several distinct parts that reflect separate bouts of writing. If you haven’t seen the movie discussed in a particular section, some references might be less straightforward to understand or place in context. A basic summary of each movie’s plot is available in Appendix II. While reading these summaries isn’t essential for understanding the overarching ideas, they can be helpful if you find yourself confused or curious. However, there is an exception for ‘The Matrix’; its concepts are crucial for a deeper understanding of my experiences. If you are among the few who haven’t seen it, I strongly recommend reading its summary in the appendix or, even better, watching the films.
Before each chapter begins, you’ll encounter an image and two quotes. These elements are carefully selected to set the tone and prime your thoughts for the themes discussed in the chapter. Think of them as a doorway to the chapter, offering a preview of what’s to come and a reflective tool. However, each chapter covers a broad range of topics, so the image and quotes may not directly relate to everything discussed. They hold personal significance to me and are logically connected in that context. Feel free to ponder their meanings, but don’t be concerned if their connection to the text isn’t immediately apparent—it’s not essential.
The first volume of this series primarily explores open-ended philosophical musings and may not present a strong narrative structure initially. It is essential for understanding the memoir aspect of this work, providing context for the evolution of my thoughts and perspectives. From Volume II onward, particularly in Volumes III and IV, the narrative shifts to focus more on my personal life, delving into deeper religious experiences and theological discussions. If the spiritual dimension is what draws you, you might consider starting with Volume II, but doing so means missing out on the foundational context that Volume I offers. While Volume I is valuable for those who appreciate psychedelic trip-logs—as I did during my pre-experiment research—it sets the stage for the subsequent volumes where philosophy links more significantly with my lived experiences, progressing toward my religious views.
I initially planned to structure each volume around a single year’s worth of sessions, but that approach quickly proved limiting. Instead, I organized them to reflect the evolution of my worldview and philosophy. Volumes I and II are both from 2017, Volume III spans 2019 to 2021, and Volume IV was written in 2024 and finished in early 2025. This arrangement creates a more cohesive narrative of my philosophical and theological development, showing how my thoughts have shifted and deepened over time.
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