Psychedelic experiences and dreams are chemical cousins; they are only different in degree.

The psychedelic species of visual beauty is something we don't see in our furniture styles and our architecture. It seems to be coming in, literally, from another dimension, and yet it is undeniably moving. It's beautiful.

The tryptamine molecule has this unique property of releasing the structured self into the over-self.

There is no hierarchy of elder knowledge in my social region of things. There are only people learning and sharing in a very complex environment.

And the whole schtick of the psychedelic experience, I think, is reclaim immediate experience, realize that you out vote all parliaments, police forces, and major newspapers on the planet because, who knows, they may be illusions.

Fine tuning the institutions built by powdered wig guys two hundred years ago is a long shot at holding the whole thing together.

There is this persistent theme in all of these notions that death is made more easy, whatever that means, if you've learned the territory before you get there. And you know, in the Mahayana Buddhist situation it even becomes as extreme as saying; 'life is essentially a preparation for death, a studying of the maps of a learning of the skills a packing of your picnic basket so that when you get out there and demons are sniffing you up one side and down the other you don't bungle your mantras'.