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Perception and Knowledge:
Reflections on Psychological and Spiritual
Learning
in the Psychedelic Experience
Frances E. Vaughan
from: Psychedelic Reflections, Lester Grinspoon & James B. Bakalar
©Human Sciences Press, 1983
Little controlled research has been done with psychedelics.
But my own experience, coupled with my observation of hundreds of
clients, students, and acquaintances who have used LSD in both
controlled and uncontrolled settings, has convinced me that we
have much to learn from appropriate investigation of this
powerful mind-altering chemical. The dearth of research has not
lessened the impact of psychedelic experiences on people's lives
and on the culture at large. Psychology in general has failed to
keep pace with personal explorations in altered states of
consciousness, many of them induced by LSD or similar psychedelic
substances.
In the past decade, transpersonal psychology has emerged as
that branch of psychology specifically concerned with the study
of human consciousness. It attempts to expand the field of
psychological inquiry to include such human experiences as those
induced by psychedelics, as well as similar states attained
through the practice of meditation or other disciplines. As a
transpersonal psychologist, I have been particularly interested
in the study of consciousness as it pertains to psychological
health and wellbeing. My clinical practice is devoted to
facilitating human growth and development, often on the border
between psychological and spiritual domains.
My personal introduction to LSD occurred under optimum
conditions. In his book, LSD Psychotherapy,(1) Dr.
Stanislav Grof observes that normal people benefit most when
participating in a supervised psychedelic program, and that the
experience can move them in the direction of selfactualization.
My own experience supports this view. As a subject in early LSD
research, I was thoroughly screened and well prepared. I had also
had an opportunity to talk with other subjects who felt they had
benefited. My first session was a profound and overwhelming
mystical experience. Subsequent sessions seemed less important,
but served as reminders of insights gained in the initial one.
A most striking feature of my psychedelic experience was the
noetic quality of consciousness as it expanded from its usual
perceptual range to a vast contextual awareness that recognized
the relativity of all perception in space/time. I find the term re-cognize
particularly appropriate, since the knowledge that was suddenly
revealed to me under LSD seemed to be remembered rather than
learned. I was awed by the vast range of consciousness, yet felt
that I was simply uncovering what I had always known, i.e. the
truth which had previously been hidden behind a veil of relative
unconsciousness. As the illusory, changeable nature of ordinary
reality became increasingly clear, I also realized how a normally
constricted perceptual framework permits one to see only a
fraction of reality, inevitably distorted to suit personal
projections and presuppositions.
During the experience, I felt I understood what mystics
throughout the ages have claimed to be the universal truth of
existence. I had an academic background in philosophy and
comparative religion, but I realized that mystical teachings had
now taken on an added dimension. My perception seemed to have
shifted from a flat, two-dimensional intellectual understanding
of the literature, to a three-dimensional sense of immersion in
the mystical reality.
The perennial philosophy and the esoteric teachings of all
time suddenly made sense. I understood why spiritual seekers were
instructed to look within, and the unconscious was revealed to be
not just a useful concept, but an infinite reservoir of creative
potential. I felt I had been afforded a glimpse into the nature
of reality and the human potential within that reality, together
with a direct experience of being myself, free of illusory
identifications and constrictions of consciousness. My
understanding of mystical teachings, both Eastern and Western,
Hindu, Buddhist, Christian, and Sufi alike, took a quantum leap.
I became aware of the transcendental unity at the core of all the
great religions, and understood for the first time the meaning of
ecstatic states.
I now felt I had had some direct experience of the ineffable
realms of union with God, and I discovered that my
dissatisfaction with conventional religion was not due to the
death of God, as some theologians proclaimed, but rather to the
impoverished concepts of God currently in vogue. Whether one
spoke of God, the Void, or the Self, Being, Bliss, or
Consciousness, did not matter, for the words were so far removed
from the experience that they were only fingers pointing to the
moon; they bore little resemblance to the depth of realization
that became available when I let go of my preconceptions about
the nature of the universe. As far as I knew, such insights into
the nature of consciousness had only been attained by rare
individuals, many of them advanced practitioners of spiritual
disciplines.
The world view that made most sense of this experience was
clearly a mystical one. Neither the subjective nor the objective
pole of experience could encompass the totality. The possibility
of transcending boundaries between self and other, the illusory
nature of ego, the interdependence of opposites, the relative
nature of dualism and the resolution of paradox in transcendence
became clear. All mental content was simply the play or the dance
of life, and what could be known about consciousness became the
focus of my attention. Psychodynamic material that came into
awareness seemed irrelevant. My own personal drama was no more
significant than light playing on a movie screen. Even feelings
of joy, ecstasy, and liberation in letting go of attachments were
less important than the insight and sense of knowing, or
remembering, inexpressible truth. "Know the truth, and the
truth shall make you free" were the words that seemed best
to capture the nature of my experience. I felt free to be exactly
who I was, free of fear and social constraints, and filled with
love and compassion for all beings.
Although many of the insights that flooded my awareness were
forgotten, many remained to influence my life. I felt I could see
how much human suffering is self-imposed, how our beliefs shape
our reality, and what it means to awaken to the realization that
life is a dream of our own making. The dreamlike quality of
existence, the unreality of past memories and future fantasies,
and the acceptance of the interrelatedness of all things were
insights subsequently confirmed as I learned more of the
perennial teachings of both Eastern and Western contemplative
traditions.
I also gained a new appreciation for the Christian teaching of
forgiveness. I saw how our own condemnation injures us, and how
our difficulty in forgiving ourselves for imagined imperfections
contributes to neurotic guilt and anxiety. Not only did I feel
forgiven for being just as I was, I saw that in reality there was
nothing to forgive. This seemed to remove the obstacles to the
experience of love and I felt an extension of love and
forgiveness to all beings everywhere.
The subjective nature of time also became starkly apparent. My
Newtonian world view was sufficiently shaken to make it
relatively easy for me to accept some of the more apparently
nonsensical propositions of the new subatomic physics, when they
later came to my attention. Likewise, parapsychological phenomena
no longer seemed incomprehensible. The fact that we could not
explain part of our human experience in the existing paradigm
seemed to indicate that the paradigm needed re-examination rather
than to justify dismissal of the evidence.
For the first time, I understood the meaning of
"ineffable." There seemed to be no possibility of
conveying in words the subjective truth of my experience. A veil
had been lifted from my inner vision, and I felt able to see, not
just images or forms, but the nature of truth itself. The doors
of perception were so cleansed, they seemed to vanish altogether,
and there was only infinite being. Krishnamurti's
characterization of truth as a pathless land seemed an
appropriate description of this domain.
I felt that I had now experienced the grace of God. Truly I
had been given a gift of infinite worth. I could understand why
human beings throughout history have relentlessly pursued truth
and sought enlightenment. I knew now why some felt impelled to
sit in caves for years trying to become enlightened, why some
were willing to die for ideals, and why suffering was endured. If
asceticism was perceived as a means of attaining this state of
oneness, I could understand why a person might choose it. I
understood that the essence of my being was identical with the
timeless essence of every living thing, that formlessness was the
essence of form, that the whole universe was reflected in every
psyche, and that my separateness was only an illusion, a dream
from which I had, in this moment, fully awakened.
As I faced old fears and watched the tricks of my mind, I
became increasingly aware of my ability to choose my subjective
state. Consciousness seemed infinitely plastic. I could choose to
focus the lens of attention on anything. Barriers and resistances
had dissolved, and fears had disappeared along with them. In that
moment I knew that I had nothing to fear. Only the creations of
my own mind and my own thoughtforms could threaten me, and I
could see them as if in a lucid dream, parading through the field
of awareness. I was free to either attend to them or let them
pass, choosing instead to experience more fully the bliss of pure
being, just being present to my experience of the moment, with no
added fantasy or distraction.
The affective tone of my experience was pure love. After the
barriers dissolved, I could feel the depth of my love for life
itself, and for my husband and children. They seemed perfect just
as they were, yet I did not need them and therefore felt no fear
or possessiveness. Life itself was enough. I too, was complete
and acceptable just as I was. Old feelings of inadequacy and
uncertainty had vanished.
My aesthetic sensibilities were profoundly enhanced, not only
during the few hours of the session, but afterwards as well. This
effect has lasted over a period of 15 years. My appreciation of
music, art, nature, and human beings has continued to grow since
that time. I remember being particularly struck by the joy of
hearing music as I never had heard it before. I could laugh at my
old self-image, which included "not being musical. " I
was deeply moved by each piece of music that was played. As I
listened without distraction, each one evoked a different aspect
of my psyche, and at the center of each was the perfect still
point of pure being where one could experience union with God.
I gained a new appreciation of my own capacity for choice and
the role of consciousness in creating experience. For the first
time I saw the possibility of taking responsibility for my own
experience. I also felt I was truly participating fully in the
universal human condition. All of my experience, including the
experience of separateness and aloneness, was something I had in
common with all human beings. Although my personal history and
the events of my life were unique, the underlying unity of life
became starkly evident. The forms of expression and experience
were diverse, but the underlying qualities of being were
universal.
I also felt a reduction in nonspecific anxiety, and a greatly
diminished fear of death. As the illusory nature of many of my
worries and fears became apparent, I became more trusting and
accepting of myself, and more willing to enter into unfamiliar
situations and take risks in exploring new creative endeavors. As
I was released from feelings of neurotic guilt and inadequacy, my
increased ability to relax also contributed to enhanced sexual
enjoyment. My appreciation of life itself and of the simple tasks
of everyday living was also profoundly enhanced. I found myself
more open in my intimate relationships, and better able to give
and receive love without fear.
I also became aware of a desire to be of service in the world,
to make some contribution to humanity through my work. At the
same time I felt more able to tolerate paradox and ambiguity. The
recognition of the interdependence of opposites has since become
a useful therapeutic tool in my practice; I often think of
psychological growth as a balance and synthesis of opposites. In
working with others to heal internal splits and conflicts,
enabling them to take increasing responsibility for their own
lives and wellbeing, I have had many opportunities to appreciate
the importance of this capacity.
The effects of this experience seemed to me equivalent to what
I might have expected from several years of insight therapy. I
had been able to see through and let go of many constricting
patterns of thought and behavior that previously seemed automatic
and beyond conscious control. Some of the far-reaching effects
appeared immediately in my personal life. For several months
after this experience I remained in a semi-euphoric state in
which I experienced being in love all the time. Everything in my
life seemed to be exactly as it was supposed to be. Everything
was all right. None of the small things I used to get upset about
seemed to matter any more. I was experiencing a state of inner
peace and serenity that allowed me to cope more effectively with
everything I needed to do, while I felt in touch with a sense of
divinity within.
This period of my life coincided with what seemed to be a time
of new hope for humankind. The flower children in San Francisco
were happily rebelling against the old order, and a better future
seemed within reach. A sense of euphoria was in the air; the more
sordid side of psychedelia became apparent only as time went by.
My interest in understanding the experience led me to graduate
school to study psychology, but I soon found that Western
psychological models could not accommodate it. Yet I knew I was
not unique. Many other people were reporting similar experiences.
Eastern consciousness disciplines seemed to offer the best maps
of this inner world, and they also offered instruction for
attaining such states without the use of chemicals. Now I could
hear, as if for the first time, the depth of the wisdom in their
teachings and in the mystical doctrines of all ages and all
cultures. As I sought for words to express my own ineffable
experience I gained a new appreciation for those individuals who
had attempted to communicate their own insights in writing or
art. I also became interested in understanding intuitive ways of
knowing; many years later I wrote a book about the development of
intuition, entitled Awakening Intuition.(2)
My intellect was eager to incorporate what I had learned into
working psychological models. I saw a need to formulate new
psychological theories that could encompass such experiences.
Among Western psychologists, only Carl Jung had addressed
transpersonal experiences. He wrote, "... The fact is
that the approach to the numinous is the real therapy and
inasmuch as you attain to the numinous experience you are
released from the curse of pathology."(3) That was
apparently true of my experience, but it later became clear that
a psychedelic experience in and of itself was not necessarily
therapeutic. The popularity of psychedelics increased greatly,
but few of their users achieved the therapeutic benefits I had
experienced.
In his extensive research on LSD psychotherapy, Stanislav Grof
noted that transpersonal experiences occur only rarely in early
sessions of psychedelic therapy, but are quite common in advanced
sessions. (1,4) Grof has provided a detailed map of the
death/rebirth experience which he found to be therapeutic for
many of his subjects. The experience of ego-death may be
liberating and ecstatic, as it was for me, but it may also be
terrifying to a person who is unprepared. However, under
appropriate, carefully controlled conditions, a subject may be
enabled to surmount the difficulties encountered in letting go of
limiting self-identifications.
Phenomenologically, personal accounts of drug-induced mystical
experiences may be indistinguishable from spontaneously occurring
mystical experiences. In either case, the effects may or may not
last. The glimpse of a larger reality that such experience
affords may change a person's life if he or she chooses to
integrate it. If, however, the experience is repressed, denied,
or invalidated, it may only contribute to exacerbating
existential guilt and anxiety. When a person is not able to
stabilize such glimpses into transcendent reality and incorporate
them into existing belief systems, they can certainly disrupt the
ordinary adjustment of everyday life.
Transpersonal psychology (5,6,7) has attempted to formulate a
conceptual framework for such experiences, since they obviously
are not going to go away. Although psychedelics have been
restricted, the public continues to experiment, and research
continues to lag far behind. Moreover, the striking parallels
between such experiences and those described by mystics raise
many questions for mental health professionals. In the
transpersonal domain, where psychological and spiritual growth
are one, psychedelics appear to be powerful tools for the
investigation of consciousness; they could enable us to expand
our understanding of the human mind and the nature of creative
consciousness. A willingness to question our assumptions and to
keep an open mind with respect to potential benefits and
potential hazards is essential.
For the past 10 years I have been practicing transpersonal
psychotherapy and training therapists to work in this area. The
lack of serious study in the field of psychedelic drugs has
unfortunately restricted their use to uncontrolled personal
experimentation. The dearth of research is clearly a drawback
when therapists are so often called upon to handle situations
where clients have been involved in uncontrolled experimentation.
Although many people in our culture have taken psychedelics, few
therapists are capable of assessing, evaluating, and integrating
psychedelic experiences in a useful way. Psychedelics, like any
powerful tool, may be used skillfully for the benefit of
humanity, or unskillfully to the detriment of those whose
ignorance leads to abuse.
As we search for ways of understanding the possibly infinite
resources of human consciousness, I suggest that the potential of
psychedelics as tools for learning should not be ignored. Today,
when the survival of our planet is at stake, there is an urgent
need to work responsibly in every facet of human endeavor. By
refusing to tread where fools rushed in, we may be turning away
from significant learning about human experience and how the mind
works. People of differing views and persuasions must join
together in exploration of the universals of psychological health
and wellbeing and work to find ways of facilitating experiences
that foster growth toward wholeness for everyone.
REFERENCES
1. Grof, S. LSD Psychotherapy. Pomona, CA: Hunter
House, 1980.
2. Vaughan, F. Awakening Intuition. New York:
Doubleday, 1979.
3. Jung, C.G. G. Adler (Ed.). Letters. Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 1973.
4. Grof, S. Realms of the Human Unconscious. New York:
Viking, 1975.
5. Walsh, R., & Vaughan, F. (Eds.). Beyond Ego:
Transpenonal Dimensions in Psychology. Los Angeles: J.P.
Tarcher, 1980.
6. Wilber, K. Spectrum of Consciousness. Wheaton, IL:
Theosophical Publishing House, 1977.
7. Wilber, K. The Atman Project. A Transpersonal View of
Human Development. Wheaton, IL: Theosophical Publishing
House, 1980.
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