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This chapter examines the states of consciousness induced by hallucinogens or psychedelic drugs in the framework of a general model of altered states of consciousness (ASCs). According to the general model of ASCs, the content of a state of consciousness is a function of the internal set and external setting, regardless of the catalyst or trigger, which might be a drug, hypnotic induction, shock, rhythmic sounds, music, and so forth. Altered states of consciousness, whether induced by drugs or other means, differ energetically on the dimensions of (a) arousal versus sedation, (b) pleasure versus pain, and (c) expansion versus contraction. It is argued that the classical hallucinogenic or psychedelic drugs are consciousness-expanding and therefore opposite in effect to drugs such as the opiates, alcohol, cocaine, and amphetamines, all of which can lead to addicted, fixated, contracted states of consciousness. Drugs, such as the stimulants and depressants in moderate dosages, which affect primarily the dimensions of arousal and pleasure—pain, without significant expansion of consciousness, are referred to as psychoactive (or “mood regulating”). The implications for applications in psychotherapy are also discussed.

This chapter discusses the psychedelic effects of drugs (mainly cannabis) on the perception and performance of music, and in particular how such drugs influence time perception in the process of performance. It focuses both on scientific studies and on anecdotal evidence provided by musicians and observers of musicians using drugs. Most of the material relates to developments in the American jazz of the 1940s and to developments in the 1960s psychedelic counterculture of the American West Coast, as particular illustrations of how musical consciousness may change in the process of making or listening to music under the influence of drugs.

This introductory chapter describes the media hype over LSD and related psychedelic drugs: a grand arrival to a 1950s cultural landscape that had been deliberately scrubbed of alluring descriptions of drug use; the the picturesque drug trips related in mainstream magazines and newspapers; sensational television specials and radio discussions; the contradictory reactions in mass media as the drugs accrued both casualties and countercultural cachet; and, finally, the loss of interest in psychedelic drugs by mainstream media outlets at the end of the 1960s. Ultimately, the book's goal is to not build a general theory but to shed light on a particular case through close examination of the media content and circumstances surrounding it.

This chapter examines the ideological assault on psychedelic drugs. These days drugs are a metaphor not for freedom or ecstasy but for slavery and horror. It’s the “hard” drugs—especially heroin and cocaine—that obsess the American imagination; the word “drug” has often been intertwined with “abuse” or “menace.” On this issue the ideological right’s triumph over 1960s liberationism is now an unquestioned axiom of public discourse that drugs and drug taking of any but the purely medicinal sort are evil. And yet the use of illegal drugs has never been more pervasive, visible, and socially accepted, especially among young people. Although the counterculture indulged in a lot of mindless romanticism about drugs, there was also a thoughtful side to psychedelic culture, a salutary self-consciousness about the process of drug taking and what it meant. The ideological assault on drugs has given rise to a predictable irony: psychedelics and the idealism surrounding them have gone underground, while the hard drugs, which no one, including their users, ever defended in the first place, become more and more entrenched.

This chapter examines the ideological assault on psychedelic drugs. These days drugs are a metaphor not for freedom or ecstasy but for slavery and horror. It’s the “hard” drugs—especially heroin and cocaine—that obsess the American imagination; the word “drug” has often been intertwined with “abuse” or “menace.” On this issue the ideological right’s triumph over 1960s liberationism is now an unquestioned axiom of public discourse that drugs and drug taking of any but the purely medicinal sort are evil. And yet the use of illegal drugs has never been more pervasive, visible, and socially accepted, especially among young people. Although the counterculture indulged in a lot of mindless romanticism about drugs, there was also a thoughtful side to psychedelic culture, a salutary self-consciousness about the process of drug taking and what it meant. The ideological assault on drugs has given rise to a predictable irony: psychedelics and the idealism surrounding them have gone underground, while the hard drugs, which no one, including their users, ever defended in the first place, become more and more entrenched.

This chapter analyzes how the new salience of hallucinogenic drugs inspired a media interest in Indian drug rituals. Indian practices that were previously described as backward and superstitious were seemingly rehabilitated in 1950s news coverage to align with contemporary theories about the drugs. Of particular interest was the “discovery” of hallucinogenic mushrooms by an amateur scientist writing for Life magazine in 1957 and the frenzy that that discovery sparked in the media, in part due to the author's coordinated publicity campaign. Aside from creating a market for magic mushrooms, the coverage also disseminated a seemingly authentic backstory for contemporary psychedelic drug use.

In the 1960s, negotiating psychedelic drugs became a categorical and predetermined undertaking for those seeking immersion in contemporary life. Experimentation with hallucinogens like LSD, peyote, and mescaline accessed a new world of alternatives to established social behavior. LSD in particular was taken as an agent enabling the change in awareness for hidden qualities of the world to be revealed and for new social and political practices to evolve. This chapter reveals how psychedelics influenced transformations of image and language in representing new possibilities for living. Often defined against the priorities of a previous generation, these features included new community and family structures, an appreciation of inner states of mind and self-knowledge, and responsibility placed on the full experience of the present as a means of transforming the future.

This chapter contains an essay by D. T. Suzuki in which he tackles the practical connection between religion and drugs, especially the so-called mystical drugs. In discussing the problem of religion and psychedelic drugs, Suzuki argues that the aim of religion has to do with “the true man” himself, and not with the phenomenal world which is objectively experienced by the man. He cites a sermon by Rinzai Gigen (Linji Yixuan), a Chinese Zen master of the Tang dynasty (618–907), about “the true man of no rank” and claims that rules and regulations originate from the true man and his behavior. Suzuki also comments on psychoanalysts, psychotherapists, “Zen scholars,” and others who hang idly about the world of drugs wandering in and out of a hallucinatory state.

In the late 1960s and early 1970s surfers launched what became known as the shortboard revolution. Surfboard shapers, inspired in part by psychedelic drugs, introduced radically new surfboard designs and performance standards. The revolution also shifted the prevailing mass-production model in the surfboard industry to a backyard-craftsman ideal, similar to the small-is-beautiful ethos then infiltrating other technological fields. Instead of surfboards knocked out by the thousands in standard models from factories, shapers now worked alone with a surfer to develop a custom design tailored to the individual’s style. This craftsman ideal, however, was underpinned by the industrial-scale, highly toxic process chemistry used to make polyurethane foam, polyester resin, and fiberglass, the main ingredients in surfboards. Modern industrial science and technology thus pervaded surfing, one of the most romantic domains of the counterculture.