Psilocybin, emotional healing and the evolutionary awakening of Self
Psychedelics are having a cultural renaissance — but their story, and their connection to human consciousness, is far older than modern medicine or contemporary spiritual exploration. Among these mind-altering allies, psilocybin-containing mushrooms have accompanied humanity longer than almost any medicine we know. And if you listen closely, they still whisper the same ancient truth: you are not separate from life.
Mushrooms: Our ancient kin
Before we dive into the healing and awakening potential of psychedelics, I want to share this often overlooked fact with you all: mushrooms are more like us than they are like plants. Read that again: mushrooms are more like us than they are like plants.
Genetically, fungi are closer to humans than any tree or flower — sharing a common ancestor with us some 1.3 billion years ago. So, perhaps it’s no surprise that their psychoactive cousins — psilocybin mushrooms — interface with our consciousness in such profound ways.
In fact, the biological similarities may be more than mere coincidence. From a neuropsychological perspective, the vast, branching structure of fungal mycelium eerily resembles the neural pathways of the human brain. Both are networks of communication and adaptation. When we ingest psilocybin, we’re not just activating serotonin 2A receptors — we’re tapping into a wisdom that moves both underground and within.
Evolution and the mycelial mind
The idea that psychedelics shaped human evolution isn’t just poetic — it’s supported by a growing body of interdisciplinary research. Early hominins likely encountered and ingested psychedelic fungi as they foraged across changing landscapes. These accidental dietary inclusions may have conferred adaptive advantages: enhanced cognitive flexibility, improved emotional processing and greater social cohesion. (I often find myself thinking: those sheep grazing the English countryside in October must be tripping balls).
The serotonin-modulating effects of psilocybin stimulate a form of active coping — a flexible, creative and emotionally responsive mindset. In the unpredictable environments of the Pliocene and Pleistocene (epochs spanning roughly 5.3 million to 11,700 years ago, marked by significant climate shifts and human evolution), such traits would have been invaluable. From this perspective, psilocybin may have helped construct the “socio-cognitive niche” humans are now defined by — our capacity for empathy, storytelling, ritual, and deep intersubjective connection.
These mushrooms, then, were not mere background flora. They were catalysts — facilitators of bonding, imagination, and communal ritual. They didn't just help us survive; they helped us become human. (And perhaps now, in an era marked by climate collapse, genocide, war, and mounting resistance to diversity, equity and inclusion, psychedelics are once again emerging as crucial tools — not just for personal healing, but for collective reckoning and reconnection.)
Psychedelics as emotional healers
What science is now steadily uncovering — and what many of us have long intuited — is that psilocybin can radically alter emotional processing and facilitate deep healing. Unlike conventional antidepressants that suppress symptoms, psychedelics enhance emotional openness. They allow us to feel more, not less — and paradoxically, this makes healing possible. Psilocybin increases connectivity in the brain, especially between regions responsible for introspection, emotion regulation and meaning-making.
Studies consistently show that even a single high-dose psilocybin experience, in the right setting, can lead to long-term reductions in anxiety, depression and PTSD. But more than symptom relief, people report transformation: a renewed sense of purpose, connection to others and awe at the sacredness of life.
Psilocybin and the neurological reset
One of the most fascinating findings in contemporary psychedelic research concerns how psilocybin affects the brain’s functional architecture. A new brain-imaging study has revealed that a high dose of psilocybin doesn’t just alter brain activity — it temporarily obliterates your unique neural fingerprint. As one researcher put it, “Their individuality is temporarily wiped out.”
This desynchronization occurs most intensely in the default mode network (DMN) — the brain’s hub for self-reflection, autobiographical memory and internal dialogue. When this network becomes less synchronized, the ego — the sense of “I” that narrates your life — softens or dissolves entirely. Participants in these studies often report a profound loss of self, sometimes described as ego death or unity consciousness.
But the effects don’t end when the trip does. Brain scans have shown that connectivity remains loosened for up to three weeks post-journey. This suggests that psilocybin catalyzes a temporary “reset” in the brain’s wiring, disrupting entrenched patterns and creating space for new, more adaptive ones to form.
Increased neural entropy — a state of greater randomness and flexibility in brain activity — appears to allow for emotional breakthroughs, fresh perspectives and deeper insight. For people suffering from depression, PTSD, or addiction, this neurological reset may help explain why psilocybin is emerging as a powerful tool for transformation. By shaking the snow globe of the mind, the flakes settle into a new, more coherent picture.
Why psychedelics alone aren’t enough: The power of integration with IFS
While psilocybin can open extraordinary inner doors, what happens before and after the journey is just as important — if not more so — than what happens during. Psychedelics, by their nature, temporarily disorganize mental structures, reveal buried truths, and surface long-exiled emotional content. But without proper integration, these revelations can remain fragmented, overwhelming, or even retraumatizing. As a nondual IFS therapist, spiritual mentor, and someone deeply experienced in psychedelic states and integration work, I’ve seen many clients not because the medicine “didn’t work,” but because they lacked the support to make sense of what it revealed. The real danger isn’t the psychedelic experience itself — it’s being exposed to the depths of your psyche without the tools or preparation to hold what arises. The impact of encountering unprocessed material too quickly or without guidance cannot be overstated.
This is where IFS becomes a crucial companion to psychedelic work. In a recent episode of The Psychedelic Podcast with Paul F. Austin, Dr. Schwartz (the founder of IFS) describes how psychedelics and IFS naturally complement each other. He explains how medicines like ketamine, MDMA and psilocybin can temporarily quiet the protective manager parts of the psyche — those inner voices that strive to keep us safe through control, suppression or distraction. IFS teaches that the mind is made up of parts — distinct subpersonalities, each with their own perspectives, emotions and roles. Some are protectors, striving to keep us safe from pain. Others are exiles — younger, wounded parts carrying unresolved emotional burdens. Crucially, IFS holds that there are no bad parts — only ones doing their best, often in extreme roles.
(artwork ©/™ Sharon Sargent Eckstein)
Psychedelics can bring these parts vividly into awareness. But more than just revealing them, they often soften the grip of protective parts, allowing us to witness the deeper layers within. What then emerges is a profound, calm presence known in IFS as Self energy — the inner source of compassion, clarity and healing.
In the IFS model, Self is not a part. It is the essence of who we are: curious, calm, compassionate, confident, connected, courageous, clear and creative. Psychedelics can accelerate access to this Self state — sometimes in just minutes — which is why they pair so synergistically with IFS. The medicine opens the door; IFS shows us how to walk through it, relate to what we find, and bring it home with care. Together, they offer not just insight, but integration — a return to inner harmony.
Without integration, even profound journeys can fade or confuse. Integration grounds the experience, turning insight into sustainable change. IFS offers a structured, trauma-informed way to navigate the afterglow of psychedelic work — including:
Reconciling “bad trips” as the emergence of exiled parts asking to be witnessed
Deepening Self-to-part relationships, especially with protectors and wounded inner children
Supporting shadow work, turning discomfort into healing
Facilitating the release of legacy burdens — inherited trauma held collectively across generations
Expanding the reach of IFS beyond therapy into leadership, spirituality, and social transformation
As mentioned earlier, brain connectivity remains loosened for up to three weeks after a psilocybin journey. Michelle Glass, IFS practitioner and psilocybin-assisted facilitator, believes that “when integration is paired with IFS, we can extend this window of integration and neurogenesis.” She offers a fantastic guide to meditative IFS practices for psychedelic preparation and integration. Working with parts both before and after a journey helps prepare the inner terrain, supports safety, and allows deeper healing to unfold.
A personal path through the underworld
For me, this understanding isn’t academic — it’s intimate. Over the course of several journeys, I’ve walked through inner landscapes that could never be captured in a PET scan or scientific paper. My first encounter with psilocybin was unexpected, unfolding spontaneously in the Welsh countryside. Raised Catholic — a “good girl” with no experience of substances — I didn’t seek out psychedelics. They found me. Or perhaps, they remembered me.
In the beginning, I found myself in what I came to call “the underworld” — tinkering with the pipes and machinery of my psyche. These early journeys were deeply embodied. I mapped emotional wounds, childhood narratives, unconscious contracts. Slowly, I began to discern what was mine to hold and what belonged to the collective. In that clarity, healing emerged. Like a bodhisattva descending into my own depths, I offered presence to every disowned part of myself.
Over time, the architecture of “Laura’s life” dissolved. The last handful of journeys were no longer about content. No trauma, no story, no fixing — just radiant, selfless presence. Being as Self. Bliss. Spaciousness. Peace.
The mushrooms — my tiny crones — were both teachers and midwives. They walked me through my own rebirth.
Though my active use of psilocybin ended three years ago — just as suddenly as it began — their gifts remain. They never really leave. They’ve rewired my perception in subtle, luminous ways. I now see the movement of trees as a kind of language. I feel the shimmer of leaves as a caress. The world sings, always. There are no ordinary moments anymore. The entire earth is a symphony of sound and movement. And I am not a separate listener — I am part of the orchestra.
This is perhaps the greatest healing of all: not just the mending of the individual psyche, but the remembrance of belonging. In a world increasingly fractured by disconnection, psychedelics like psilocybin offer not escape, but return. They remind us that healing is not about becoming someone new — it’s about remembering who we’ve always been.
And sometimes, it takes a tiny mushroom — a fungal cousin from the forest floor — to show us the way home.
Psychedelics show us what’s possible. Integration — especially with tools like IFS — helps us live that possibility. In my own journey, having traversed hundreds of mushroom sessions, the deepest healing came not just from the visionary experiences, but from staying present with each part that arose — listening to their fears, honouring their purpose, and inviting them back into wholeness.
We don't heal by erasing parts of ourselves. We heal by becoming large enough to love all of them. If you’d like to hear more about my journey with IFS and psychedelics, tune into my latest podcast episode: Listen here. Still curious? My book is a cornucopia of insights, stories, and reflections: Explore it here.
Curious about the science?
If you’re intrigued by the evolutionary, psychological and neurological dimensions of psilocybin, here are a few peer-reviewed studies to send you on your way. These studies offer a window into the astonishing ways psilocybin can alter — and potentially heal — the human mind:
Final note:
This article is dedicated to the wise ones of the woods, to all who seek healing in the underworld, and to the shimmering leaves that never stopped speaking. These humble fungi — so genetically close to us — seem to remember something ancient about who we are and how we can heal. Whether you approach psilocybin as a spiritual guide, a therapeutic agent, or an evolutionary mystery, it’s clear that their power extends beyond the personal. They invite us into a state of radical presence, softened identity, and reawakened connection to the All.
And in that space — quiet, shimmering, and eternal — we remember: we were never separate to begin with.
We resonate 100% with this article. We use psilocybin and Tibetan extraction techniques to remove unattached burdens. Very effective. www.shape-my.life