Mystics used to spend years meditating in caves in search of transcendence. Today, a growing number of people believe that something similar can be achieved in a single afternoon with the help of a psychedelic drug. Swallow a psilocybin capsule or take a carefully supervised dose of LSD and you could have what many describe as one of the most meaningful experiences of their lives.
Modern clinical trials seem to support this. Several studies suggest that the intensity of a “mystical experience” during a psychedelic session predicts the degree of improvement in depression, anxiety or addiction. A recent review, for example, reports a consistent statistical link between mystical experiences and improved mental health.
It’s an attractive idea: healing comes through a deep encounter with unity, sacredness, or ultimate reality. But do we really need mystical experiences to improve?
To understand why this question is important, it’s helpful to take a step back. Long before psychedelics entered psychiatry, philosophers and theologians were fascinated by mystical states. In the early 20th century, psychologist William James argued in his book “The Varieties of Religious Experience” that mystical states should be judged “by their fruits, not their roots” — that is, by their effects on people’s lives, not by debates about their metaphysical truth.
Others, including the British writer on Christian mysticism Evelyn Underhill and the philosopher of religion Walter Stace, developed what later became known as the “perennial philosophy”: the idea that a common central experience lies at the heart of the world’s religions.
This way of thinking has quietly shaped modern psychedelic science. In 1962, psychiatrist Walter Pahnke conducted the Good Friday experiment, giving psilocybin to theology students in a church. Many reported experiences strikingly similar to those described by classical mystics.
Around the same time, British psychiatrist Humphry Osmond, who coined the word “psychedelic,” developed treatment approaches designed to induce powerful “peak experiences” that could trigger lasting psychological changes.
Today, large clinical trials at universities such as Johns Hopkins and Imperial College London have revived this approach. Researchers routinely measure whether participants have had a “mystical experience” using a standardized psychometric test known as the “mystical experience questionnaire,” or MEQ for short.
Participants are asked to rate statements such as “I had an experience of union with ultimate reality” or “I had an experience that cannot be adequately described in words.” The higher the score, the more likely it is that someone will be classified as having had a complete mystical experience.
But this raises a dilemma. If an experience is supposedly “ineffable” beyond words, how accurately can it be captured by checking boxes on a questionnaire?
Some critics argue that the MEQ is based on assumptions drawn from perennial philosophy. By asking about “ultimate reality” or “sacredness,” he may reflect a particular interpretation of the mystical experience rather than a neutral description. As one review notes, there is a risk that the psychometric scale partially reproduces the very theory it aims to test.
Expectations make things even more complicated
Many participants in psychedelic trials also arrive prepared for transcendence. They read glowing media reports, listened to podcasts, or watched documentaries promising revolutionary breakthroughs that would change their lives. Research shows that such expectations can significantly shape subjective drug experiences.
My colleagues and I saw how powerful suggestion can be in a study dubbed “tripping with the God helmet.” Participants wore a simulated brain stimulation device that we described as capable of activating their “mystical wolves.” In reality, no stimulation was applied. Despite this, almost half reported mystical-type experiences, some of them described as deeply meaningful.
In another experiment, psychedelic placebos administered in a carefully prepared environment, complete with music and evocative images, produced surprisingly similar reports. These findings suggest that context and expectation are not secondary details. They can play a central role in shaping what people experience.
None of this means that psychedelic therapy is “just a placebo.” Drugs clearly alter brain activity and experience in powerful ways. But this raises the possibility that mystical experiences are not the only or even the main driver of therapeutic change.
After all, correlation does not equal causation. A large body of psychiatric research warns against the assumption that because two things occur together, one must cause the other. Mystical experiences may simply be a visible marker of other processes, such as greater emotional openness, the development of new neural connections, or changes in long-held beliefs.
Superplacebos
Some researchers have even described psychedelics as superplacebos: substances that amplify the effects of expectation rather than circumventing them. This may seem dismissive, but it points to something important. Expectations, beliefs, and meaning-making are not incidental to healing; are often fundamental to her.
When used carefully in structured environments, psychedelics can act less like miracle solutions and more like catalysts. They intensify any psychological processes that are already underway.
For some, this may include feelings of unity and transcendence. For others, it may involve facing pain, fear, or long-buried memories. Stanislav Grof, a pioneer of psychedelic therapy, once compared these substances to microscopes for the mind—tools that reveal aspects of experience that would otherwise remain hidden.
The bottom line is this: although mystical experiences often go hand in hand with improvement, they may not be essential. And, on their own, they may not be enough to create lasting change.
Lasting therapeutic benefits appear to emerge from a network of interacting factors: brain changes, emotional breakthroughs, supportive environments, qualified therapists, and the integration work that follows the session. Focusing excessively on whether someone has reached a mystical threshold risks oversimplifying a complex process.
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The psychedelic renaissance has opened up exciting possibilities for treating mental health. But for the field to mature, we may need to move beyond the assumption that transcendence is the secret ingredient.
The future of psychedelic therapy may depend less on the search for mystical highs and more on understanding the conditions that help people translate intense experiences, mystical and otherwise, into lasting, meaningful change.
This text was published in The Conversation. Click here to read the original version
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By Breaking News em 01/03/2026
