Why are so many high-dose psilocybin pioneers dead?
And what does this mean for the future of the field?
This piece is dedicated to the vibrant, living memory of Kilindi Iyi, Kai Wingo, Terence McKenna, and several others who have passed on too soon. Rest in power.
Something has plagued my conscience for the last few years.
As the hype around psilocybin has reached astronomical heights, and although it is increasingly associated with health benefits rather than risks, numerous prominent advocates and personal acquaintances who were active psilocybin users have tragically passed away—and all too soon.
Although our society has grown increasingly concerned with health-related matters, and while the market for psilocybin grows larger and larger, we still have relatively little data on the long-term health effects of psilocybin. While it is true that we know a lot about the drug, and while there are more studies announced seemingly every few days, we still don’t really know what it might mean for a significant percentage of the population to become active users of psilocybin, potentially for the rest of their lives.
Yes, there were of course numerous populations across the world who used mushrooms ritually for untold generations—but they did so in quite different environments from our own. They were not using psilocybin in the concrete jungle, but the actual jungle. The mushrooms they used were, for the most part, rather small and most likely relatively low in psilocybin content, at least compared to the fat bag of A.P.E.s (Albino Penis Envy—yes, a real strain, and ridiculously potent) you may or may not have eaten with your friend last weekend.
And while there are scattered references to these traditions here and there, most of the documentation they themselves produced was long ago destroyed by conquistadors and missionaries. So although we know that various indigenous populations consumed psilocybin, we don’t really know what the result was—aside from the surviving accounts of colonizers, themselves reactionary and superstitious rather than scientific.
This concerns me deeply, because I used psilocybin mushrooms very frequently for somewhere between 5 to 10 years. And while I’ve consumed a considerable volume of psilocybin over the years, it is still minuscule compared to the volumes consumed by other, more prominent advocates such as Kai Wingo and Kilindi Iyi. For example, Iyi regularly consumed 30-40 grams in one sitting, and encouraged his followers to do the same. Wingo consumed comparable doses.
But a number of those who have consumed massive doses of psilocybin—including Wingo and Iyi—have also tragically passed away at relatively young ages (43 and 65, respectively). Even one of the mushrooms’ most well-known advocates, Terence McKenna, who was known to both consume and endorse large doses (though, again, minuscule compared to those imbibed by Wingo and Iyi), himself passed away all too soon at the age of 53.
Although in each case there is a known cause of death, we will probably never know for sure whether and how their (staggering levels of) psilocybin consumption may have contributed to or exacerbated the conditions that ultimately caused their demise.
And in addition to these more prominent figures, I have personally known multiple psilocybin enthusiasts who passed away all too soon. Most of them were Black. They all died during or soon after periods of frequent psilocybin use. None of their deaths were documented in the scientific literature about long-term outcomes for psychedelic users. The emotional gravity of personally knowing multiple people who loved the same drugs I love and who died at relatively young ages has made it impossible for me to ignore the pattern.
To be clear, I am not alleging that psilocybin, in and of itself, caused any of these deaths. I am also not alleging any sort of conspiratorial plot to kill prominent advocates. I am simply pointing out that although psilocybin is increasingly associated with health benefits, there are numerous cases of frequent users who nonetheless developed grave and ultimately fatal health issues. More bluntly: psilocybin, no matter the dose, does not excuse us from the vicissitudes of life and death. If anything, it seems to make us more mortal.
But in addition to my concern that psilocybin may produce adverse effects that we are not yet aware of, I am also concerned that any evidence of serious adverse effects would be—is being, perhaps—suppressed in the scientific literature. This is not an unrealistic concern. Countless examples abound of cases in which drug developers have rushed through trials to get questionable products to market at the expense of public health. Opioids, antidepressants, cigarettes, take your pick…the list goes on. (And by the way, indigenous populations also used opioids and tobacco for thousands of years before they became corporate products. Something to consider.)
The issue is an admittedly complex and nuanced one. I will be the first to admit that I don’t have a perfect solution. I want psilocybin to be safe. There is certainly considerable evidence that, generally, it is. But I still worry about what we’re missing. What we’ve already missed. Who we’ve already missed.
Even though you may have heard otherwise from some self-declared guru on YouTube, psilocybin does not save us from the cycle of life and death. It does not eternally free us from suffering. No matter how frequently, or how heavily, you trip, you will never be completely exempt from the very real woes of life. Don’t let some hokey sales pitch convince you otherwise.
Psilocybin is not a silver bullet. It doesn’t need to be. And if we are to utilize it in the healthiest and most effective ways possible, we must be frank with ourselves about what the drug is capable of, and what it is not—even if (especially if) it is all continuously up for debate.
Terence McKenna and Kilindi Iyi both heartily encouraged people to take large doses. The bigger, the better, seemed to be their perpetual answer to the question of how much one should consume. But I suspect it would be beneficial to let go of the macho, hold-my-beer approach to tryptamine dosing. Let’s aim not for the biggest doses possible, but for the longest, healthiest, and most fulfilling lives possible. Now that’s a trip I want to go on…
Thanks for reading.
I love this conversation and the question behind what directly contributes to what. I understand that it can be a complex one. One thing stands true for me -- their sacrifice and contribution directly touches my heart. Their stories inspire me to live from the expression I truly want to exist in versus the one I think I must have.
I don't think Terence practiced what he preached. In Brotherhood of the Screaming Abyss, his brother Dennis confirms that Psilocybin kicked his ass in the early 80s. His last heroic dose.