How to Change Your Mind

(Frankie) #1

Jesse in 1998, and met Roland Griffiths shortly thereafter, he couldn’t
quite believe his good fortune. “It was thrilling.”
Bill Richards, a preternaturally cheerful man in his seventies, is a
bridge between the two eras of psychedelic therapy. Walter Pahnke was
the best man at his wedding; he worked closely with Stan Grof at Spring
Grove and visited Timothy Leary in Millbrook, New York, where Leary
landed after his exile from Harvard. Though Richards left the Midwest
half a century ago, he’s retained the speech patterns of rural Michigan,
where he was born in 1940. Richards today sports a white goatee, laughs
with an infectious cackle, and ends many of his sentences with a cheerful,
up-spoken “y’know?”
Richards, who holds graduate degrees in both psychology and divinity,
had his first psychedelic experience while a divinity student at Yale in



  1. He was spending the year studying in Germany, at the University of
    Göttingen, and found himself drawn to the Department of Psychiatry,
    where he learned about a research project involving a drug called
    psilocybin.
    “I had no idea what that was, but two friends of mine had participated
    and had had interesting experiences.” One of them, whose father had
    been killed in the war, had regressed to childhood to find himself sitting
    on his father’s lap. The other had hallucinations of SS men marching in
    the street. “I had never had a decent hallucination,” Richards said with a
    chuckle, “and I was trying to get some insight into my childhood. In those
    days, I viewed my own mind as a psychological laboratory, so I decided to
    volunteer.
    “This was before the importance of set and setting was understood. I
    was brought to a basement room, given an injection, and left alone.” A
    recipe for a bad trip, surely, but Richards had precisely the opposite
    experience. “I felt immersed in this incredibly detailed imagery that
    looked like Islamic architecture, with Arabic script, about which I knew
    nothing. And then I somehow became these exquisitely intricate patterns,
    losing my usual identity. And all I can say is that the eternal brilliance of
    mystical consciousness manifested itself. My awareness was flooded with
    love, beauty, and peace beyond anything I ever had known or imagined to
    be possible. ‘Awe,’ ‘glory,’ and ‘gratitude’ were the only words that
    remained relevant.”

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