I’m reading PIHKAL (Phenethylamines I Have Known And Loved) by Sasha and Ann Shulgin. I have a large stack of books from which to read, and I’m not sure what inspired me to pick this one up— I think it was because I haven’t read anything that journaled so deeply the experiences of people really enmeshed within the psychedelic community. Both Ann and Sasha (Alexander) personally contributed—individually labeling chapters/vignettes to reflect one voice or the other. Generally speaking, the book chronicles their biographical process of finding one another, as well as highlights the specific qualities of the era in which they exist. To me, reading about their processes has been fascinating.
The Shulgins were a later-in-life couple who created couple-ship and community around psychedelic drug experimentation. Sasha Shulgin is credited with “rediscovering” MDMA (probably the best known phenethylamine), but according to this particular account he curated hundreds upon hundreds of various entheogenic brews. His quirky, comedic, and light-hearted perspective really manifested, and made real, his lived experiences while consuming the chemicals on his alchemy menu. With finite detail, he paid attention to the subtle shifts and fluid directions of his inner system as these materials integrated themselves in his body, as well as in the bodies of his close friends and his wife Ann. All the names in the book have been changed, including the Shugin’s. Interestingly, the materials discussed were created by Shulgin, but to the reader it appears that the materials actually created the person whom we know as Sasha Shulgin—meaning the lived experience that made Sasha Shulgin the person whom I witnessed in the book seemed to be the result of his experimentation and curiosity with chemicals in the human body.
I’m personally struck by the narratives and how beautifully shaped Sasha and Ann were by their surrender to these powerful entheogenic agents. On some level, reading the book felt voyeuristic, asking the reader to peek into the very personal and intimate thoughts of total strangers. At times, I wondered why I was so entranced by this soap-opera narrative about their love, sex life, and thoughts about one another. It felt as if I were stumbling into a private moment where a couple forgot to close their bedroom door. However, with each story, I consistently found a riveting component that resonated with something specific in my own life. The stories were not the same as mine, but the melody sounded familiar and the shared perspectives echoed my own questions about life, relationships, and other existential wonders. I’m grateful for the perspectives they generously shared.
One vital piece of this book was the impact it had on my sense of time. The stories took place throughout the 60s until the early 90s. In fact, many of the vignettes evolved during their mid-life and onward—the Shulgins appeared to be in their 50s by the time they married. It breathed life into the September of my own years. It also made me keenly aware of how fleeting our time is on this planet. Both Sasha and Ann are gone now—Sasha passed away in 2014 and Ann died more recently, in the summer of 2022. They had long, rich lives, both individually and together.
The other piece that stood out to me is that they used these materials as a source of access to universal answers. The chemicals were their therapy—their connection to something bigger than Self. The growth they attained via each journey was similar to that which unfolds from years of daily meditation practice. Many of my own meditation-based discoveries about the nature of life were echoed in their discoveries after chemical explorations. I keep asking myself about the differences—although my psychedelic experiences are quite limited, my meditation practice and years of contemplative thought seem to provide results that are strikingly similar. I am starting to wonder if the difference between the two paths even really matters—both paths lead to the same realizations.
The difference between Sasha and Ann’s voices is interesting. Sasha spends a lot of time focusing on his own inner and outer experiences—occasionally mentioning people in his life, but not in an exceptionally deep way. Ann spends a lot of time focusing on Sasha and her feelings for him, their relationship, her role, etc. It could be that their writing styles are just different, but it also makes me wonder about the nature of the male versus female mind. It appears that so many more men appear to reach enlightened states of being, and I wonder if this is because of this singular observation: Men focus on what is, women focus on what could be, with whom, how, often getting lost in the other. Sasha does not profess to get lost in anyone but his own inner experience, while Ann is constantly being distracted by, and fixated on the mind of the other. I trust Ann’s assessment of experiences more than I trust Sasha’s—not because Sasha’s assessment is wrong, but because it is singularly focused. Ann’s is multi-focused— to the point of confusing herself with ALL the information. Leo Zeff, the “secret chief” known for his therapeutic use of MDMA with thousands of patients (he received his supply from Sasha) is also included in the storyline (under a pseudonym). He offers Ann support, reminding her to basically get out of the way of her herself, which is a common challenge for many female brains. Meditation requires singular focus. Maybe this is something that comes easier to the brain bathed in testosterone versus the brain developed from the unbroken ‘X’ chromosome? It’s not impossible for the feminine brain to reach states of enlightenment, but I do believe there exist a few more hurdles to leap that the masculine version doesn’t even recognize.
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