A few years ago, I facilitated a psilocybin session with an individual who, on the surface, appeared to have everything in order. Successful, articulate, and seemingly thriving in life, he was the type of person one might assume was doing well. However, beneath this polished veneer lay a profound, long-standing depression that had persisted despite years of therapy, self-development, and attempts to manage it through sheer willpower.
In his 50s, with his children grown and a loving wife by his side, he possessed a strong understanding of himself. Years of therapy had equipped him with insights into his behavioural patterns and the origins of certain emotional wounds. Despite this self-awareness, he felt stuck, describing his life as generally good yet overshadowed by a persistent heaviness and an omnipresent black cloud. While he expressed gratitude for his life, he struggled to shake off frequent low moods and a lack of vitality.
During the retreat, he shared his experiences, as he had many times before. He acknowledged the inherent challenges of life, recognising its ups and downs, yet something felt immovable. However, during our psilocybin session, a significant transformation occurred.
He became incredibly still, as if an internal pause had taken place. As facilitators, it can sometimes be challenging to discern what an individual is experiencing, yet there are moments when a noticeable shift is palpable, lightening the energy in the room. Following the journey, he articulated a profound realization.
What he felt was not new information, nor was it a hidden memory or a dramatic revelation; it was grief. This was grief he had discussed extensively, analyzed from various perspectives, and intellectually understood, yet had never fully experienced. In that altered state of consciousness, something softened within him.
His usual defenses, the incessant thinking, and the need for control receded. For the first time, he allowed himself to confront the emotions that had lingered beneath the surface for years. Tears flowed, and a release occurred. During the journey, he had a vision of his father taking his hand, allowing him to symbolically process and ultimately let go of his grief.

Afterward, he shared a profound insight that has resonated with me ever since: “I’ve talked about this for years, but this is the first time I’ve actually been in it.” This moment encapsulated a fundamental aspect of healing work.
We often presume that healing stems from a deeper understanding of ourselves. We seek the right explanations, frameworks, and insights. While comprehension is valuable, it is not always sufficient. Sometimes, wounds reside not in thought but in the body, emotions, nervous system, and experiences that were never fully processed at the time they occurred. When this is the case, mere intellectual understanding cannot facilitate healing.
Healing may require a different state of being, a state where the mind quiets, where the body feels safe enough to release, and where emotions can flow freely rather than being managed. It is a state in which we cease to observe our pain from a distance and instead confront it directly. This is very difficult to do in modern society, we don’t give ourselves the space and the time to feel fully. Life is full of distractions and comforts and it takes a lot of courage to step out of those and into full feeling.
This is one reason altered states of consciousness whether induced by psychedelics, breathwork, meditation, or other practices can be exceptionally powerful. Especially with the right set and setting and approached with skill. Such states do not magically heal us, but they can create conditions conducive to healing. Often, the breakthrough is not a new idea; rather, it is the experience of finally feeling what has been present all along.
Many people have similar stories working through grief and other difficult emotions. If you feel the call to join our retreat but are still unsure, get in touch for a free call to talk it through here.








































