On Being a Psychedelically-Informed Therapist

Recently, in conversation with a dear friend, I came to a realization that felt both obvious and profound: I cannot separate my psychedelic practice from my therapy practice. The two are deeply entwined—not just in theory, but in the way I experience and relate to other sentient beings. My personal experiences with expanded states of awareness have fundamentally shaped how I see the world and how I hold space for healing.

These experiences have not only shifted my perspective—they’ve transformed my being. They’ve taught me about the deep intelligence of the psyche, the body, the Earth. They’ve opened my heart to the beauty and pain of the human experience, and they’ve helped me embrace the paradoxes that come with it. Psychedelic journeys have shown me what it feels like to have everything I thought I knew dissolve into dust—and then to rebuild something wiser, softer, and more connected from the pieces.

To be a psychedelically-informed therapist is to carry this knowing into every session. It means embodying principles that have emerged from these expanded states: intentionality, reciprocity, equanimity, compassion, inclusivity, and reverence for the mystery of transformation. It means honoring the full arc of a person’s experience—the darkness, the light, the in-between—and trusting in their innate capacity to grow and reconfigure.

It also means acknowledging that we are not separate from nature, from one another, or from the pulse of life that moves through all things. My practice is grounded in animism, in a felt sense of connection with the living world. I believe healing happens not in isolation, but in relationship—relationship with self, with others, with spirit, and with the Earth.

There is a deep sense of fulfillment in this work—a quiet, steady gratitude for the privilege of walking alongside others on their healing journeys. It is a sacred responsibility to hold space for people as they unravel, remember, and reweave themselves. I am continually humbled by the courage of the human spirit and by the trust placed in me to witness such intimate, transformative moments.

This path has made me a more present, intuitive, and humble therapist. I bring not only my training and skills, but my lived experience—my awe, my questions, my trust in the unfolding. I don’t pretend to have all the answers. But I do know how to sit beside someone in the unknown. I know how to listen for the quiet wisdom that lives inside them. And I believe, deeply, in the possibility of healing—not as fixing, but as remembering who we are.