Among the recrimination, a revelation. Having told the world about his unhappy life as a Windsor, Prince Harry has disclosed that he took the psychoactive brew ayahuasca and that it helped him with his grief. On a guided trip, Harry said, he realised: “Wow! It’s not about the crying.” His mother, the late Diana, Princess of Wales, he felt, “wants me to be happy”.
Harry, speaking in an interview, said that he wished his brother, William, could have the same experience. While we can assume the future king won’t indulge, it’s difficult to know how many Britons do use, or have used, particular drugs, least of all those, like ayahuasca, that are used infrequently. But countries where ayahuasca is legal – Costa Rica, Peru, Jamaica and, closer to home, the Netherlands – have experienced booms in psychedelic tourism.
Go to an ayahuasca retreat abroad, as I have, and you will find many Britons among your fellow travellers. Even in the UK, where ayahuasca is a Class A drug whose possession is punishable by a seven-year prison sentence and an unlimited fine, there are underground retreats.
For the most part, my own experience in the Netherlands was a dark one (“None of it matters!”) punctuated by moments of transcendence (“Yes! None of it matters!”) and insight. It made me understand why ayahuasca, unlike its colleagues in the Class A bracket, is rarely treated as a party drug.
It is used not recreationally, but reverentially. Derived from the stem and bark of a South American liana, and administered in a ceremony that nods to those roots, ayahuasca is referred to as a “medicine”. It comes in the form of a foul-tasting tea.
But the tea is a powerful psychoactive, causing visions, euphoria, temporary ego dissolution, feelings of transcendence and much more besides. It seems to have an effect on the brain that is something akin to that of annealing in metallurgy: applying a lot of energy in a short time in order to remove the metal’s internal stresses and make it easier to work with.
After decades in which the study of psychedelics was all but forbidden, science is embracing the drugs as potential clinical game-changers. A review of six studies concluded that, while more research was needed, “ayahuasca, psilocybin and LSD may be useful pharmacological tools for the treatment of drug dependence, and anxiety and mood disorders, especially in treatment-resistant patients.”
More nebulously, psychedelic trips have been shown to be considered among the most meaningful experiences of the trippers’ lives, up there with the births of children, the deaths of loved-ones, and falling in love.
Similar accounts emerge from the celebrities who’ve tried it. Sting felt he was “wired to the entire cosmos”, and realised that “this is the only genuine religious experience I’ve ever had.”
Lindsay Lohan said that, while on ayahuasca, she saw herself die and be born. “It’s changed my life,” she said. Will Smith, like many ayahuasca users, encountered a guiding maternal figure.
Ayahuasca still bears the stigma of illegality. Several psychologists approached by i elected not to comment. But Emma Kenny, a psychologist, said that it appeared that psychedelics such as ayahuasca could have a “profound impact” on mental health problems.
“I think we’re at a really important turning point where psychiatry and psychology is failing in so many different areas,” said Kenny, referring to free-flowing prescription drugs that have little to no benefit. It is time, she said, for “something new” – something derived from the natural world rather than created in a laboratory.
None of this is to say that ayahuasca is without risk. Its dangers go beyond the upset stomachs common to ayahuasca ceremonies. Psychedelic trips can be distressing.
Worse, they have been documented as triggering underlying psychosis. The authors of another study warned of “serious drug interactions” for those taking ayahuasca while already on medication.
I wasn’t particularly worried, when I tried ayahuasca last November, about triggering psychosis. A more realistic concern seemed a bad trip, even in a ceremony administered by experienced shamans. But it felt worth the risk – what’s a few hours of suffering to months, or years, of a refreshed mind? I’d been dwelling on some vexations for too long and was hoping for a soft neurological reset, a hard truth or two. A meaningful experience that might make me better and wiser.
There were about 20 of us at this retreat, and there were five shamans, all of whom were dressed in white. We sat in a purpose-built building that was something like a village hall, but with more mandalas. We discussed what had brought us to the retreat, and after an hour or two we went to the ceremony room.
The four winds were invoked, and Mother Ayahuasca was called on to bless us. Each of us made a request of her while lighting a tea light. We were served the tea, along with another brew (a monoamine oxidase inhibitor, which allows the drug to take effect), some clementine pieces and a mint (to clear the foul taste of the tea).
We sank into our camp beds and waited for the drug to take effect. Some of us needed multiple servings. Soon enough there were mutterings, peals of laughter, tears of sorrow, tears of joy. I realised with surprise that some of them were mine.
I saw colourful imagery and then deep blackness; I ruminated deeply for hours. I had a vivid vision of what the future might hold. I inhabited the exact mental experience, without realising it until much later, of someone I was struggling to understand.
I’m glad I did it. Overnight, I changed several habits and thought patterns. I felt a stronger sense of what I ought to pursue in life.
The man next to me clasped my hand, joyful; he had spoken, he felt, to his late father, and had felt his burden of grief immediately lighten. It’s possible to simultaneously (i) have little truck with the idea of life after death; (ii) be profoundly glad that this man had a healing experience of such power. The same goes for Harry.
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