A psychedelic pioneer takes the ultimate trip
As founding director of the Johns Hopkins Center for Psychedelic and Consciousness Research, Dr. Roland Griffiths pioneered the study of ways in which psychedelics can help treat depression, addiction and, in patients with a life-threatening cancer diagnosis, psychological distress. . He also examined how the use of psychedelics can produce transformative and lasting feelings of human connectedness and oneness. One could surely classify his accomplishments using various medical and scientific terms, but I will put it this way: Griffiths expanded the knowledge of how we might better learn to live.
Now he is learning to die. Griffiths, who is 76, has been diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic colon cancer. It is a diagnosis, in all likelihood terminal, which has given him transcendentally positive feelings about existence and what he calls the great mystery of consciousness. “We all know we're terminally ill,” says Griffiths, who since his diagnosis created an endowment at Johns Hopkins to study psychedelics and their potential to increase human flourishing. “So I believe that in principle we shouldn't need this stage 4 cancer diagnosis to wake us up. I can't wait to communicate, shake the bars and tell people: 'Come on, let's wake up!' »
Can we start with your current prognosis? [Laughs.] The prognosis is 50% chance that I will arrive on Halloween.
And how do you feel about it? Despite this, life has been more beautiful, more wonderful than ever. When I first got this diagnosis, because I train regularly, watch my diet, sleep well, it went out of left field. There was this period where I felt like I was going to wake up and say, "Boy, that was" - to put it in psychedelic parlance - "a bummer, a bad dream". But soon after, I began to contemplate the different psychological states that would naturally arise with a diagnosis like mine: depression, anxiety, denial, anger, or adopting a religious outcome belief system, which, in as a scientist, was not for me. TO DO. I went through them, exploring what life would be like if I inhabited these reactions, and quickly concluded that it was not a wise way to live. I have a long-term meditation practice, and the focus is on the nature of mind, of consciousness, and you come to see that thoughts, emotions, are transient. They are spirit appearances that you don't need to identify with. This practice - and some experience with psychedelics - was incredibly helpful because what I recognized was that the best way to be with this diagnosis was to practice gratitude for the preciousness of our lives. Grabbing the cure was not helpful. [Laughs.] We actually just got another blood result that showed if the cancer was progressing. My wife, Marla, and I are like, "Whatever it shows, it's perfect." Indeed, he showed a big jump in that blood marker, which wouldn't be something to celebrate. It's like that. It's true. And what could be funnier than reality?
You are 76 years old. You have had a long and full life. Is your perspective perhaps one that a 40-year-old man, say, with a diagnosis of terminal cancer would be able to indwell so deeply? I have always lived in this illusion of being about 30 years younger than me. I felt perfectly healthy at the time of this diagnosis. I wasn't about to slow anything down. As a scientist, it's like a kid in the candy store when it comes to research, questions to be answered about psychedelics, and the topic of endowment and human flourishing. We continued to build the center. I was more deeply engaged than ever and felt like I was about 35 years old. It was not in my game plan.
You talk about your cancer almost as if it were a gift. Does that mean you don't regret what happened? My life has never been so beautiful! If I had one regret, it's that I didn't wake up as much as I did without a cancer diagnosis. It was amazing. There have been so many positive things: my relationship with my children, my grandchildren, my brothers and sisters, my wife. Marla and I have lived together for 11 years and felt it was not important to get married. Then one evening at dinner, I asked Marla, "Would it be emotionally important for you now to be married?" She ...
As founding director of the Johns Hopkins Center for Psychedelic and Consciousness Research, Dr. Roland Griffiths pioneered the study of ways in which psychedelics can help treat depression, addiction and, in patients with a life-threatening cancer diagnosis, psychological distress. . He also examined how the use of psychedelics can produce transformative and lasting feelings of human connectedness and oneness. One could surely classify his accomplishments using various medical and scientific terms, but I will put it this way: Griffiths expanded the knowledge of how we might better learn to live.
Now he is learning to die. Griffiths, who is 76, has been diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic colon cancer. It is a diagnosis, in all likelihood terminal, which has given him transcendentally positive feelings about existence and what he calls the great mystery of consciousness. “We all know we're terminally ill,” says Griffiths, who since his diagnosis created an endowment at Johns Hopkins to study psychedelics and their potential to increase human flourishing. “So I believe that in principle we shouldn't need this stage 4 cancer diagnosis to wake us up. I can't wait to communicate, shake the bars and tell people: 'Come on, let's wake up!' »
Can we start with your current prognosis? [Laughs.] The prognosis is 50% chance that I will arrive on Halloween.
And how do you feel about it? Despite this, life has been more beautiful, more wonderful than ever. When I first got this diagnosis, because I train regularly, watch my diet, sleep well, it went out of left field. There was this period where I felt like I was going to wake up and say, "Boy, that was" - to put it in psychedelic parlance - "a bummer, a bad dream". But soon after, I began to contemplate the different psychological states that would naturally arise with a diagnosis like mine: depression, anxiety, denial, anger, or adopting a religious outcome belief system, which, in as a scientist, was not for me. TO DO. I went through them, exploring what life would be like if I inhabited these reactions, and quickly concluded that it was not a wise way to live. I have a long-term meditation practice, and the focus is on the nature of mind, of consciousness, and you come to see that thoughts, emotions, are transient. They are spirit appearances that you don't need to identify with. This practice - and some experience with psychedelics - was incredibly helpful because what I recognized was that the best way to be with this diagnosis was to practice gratitude for the preciousness of our lives. Grabbing the cure was not helpful. [Laughs.] We actually just got another blood result that showed if the cancer was progressing. My wife, Marla, and I are like, "Whatever it shows, it's perfect." Indeed, he showed a big jump in that blood marker, which wouldn't be something to celebrate. It's like that. It's true. And what could be funnier than reality?
You are 76 years old. You have had a long and full life. Is your perspective perhaps one that a 40-year-old man, say, with a diagnosis of terminal cancer would be able to indwell so deeply? I have always lived in this illusion of being about 30 years younger than me. I felt perfectly healthy at the time of this diagnosis. I wasn't about to slow anything down. As a scientist, it's like a kid in the candy store when it comes to research, questions to be answered about psychedelics, and the topic of endowment and human flourishing. We continued to build the center. I was more deeply engaged than ever and felt like I was about 35 years old. It was not in my game plan.
You talk about your cancer almost as if it were a gift. Does that mean you don't regret what happened? My life has never been so beautiful! If I had one regret, it's that I didn't wake up as much as I did without a cancer diagnosis. It was amazing. There have been so many positive things: my relationship with my children, my grandchildren, my brothers and sisters, my wife. Marla and I have lived together for 11 years and felt it was not important to get married. Then one evening at dinner, I asked Marla, "Would it be emotionally important for you now to be married?" She ...
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