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- A study by Jeya Lenz reveals Indigenous psychedelic ceremonies prioritize collective healing over individual experience.
- Capitalism commodifies plant medicine, transforming sacred rituals into luxury wellness products.
- Growing your own mushrooms decentralizes access and encourages sustainable, mindful use.
- Community-based integration practices provide deeper and longer-lasting healing outcomes.
- Ethical sourcing and honoring tradition are crucial to avoid cultural appropriation and exploitation.
Psychedelic healing has become a growing trend in wellness culture. It's often shown in fancy retreat centers and sold as self-improvement. Ayahuasca ceremonies, psilocybin sessions, and plant medicine experiences get a lot of attention for their powerful effects. But there's a deeper question: Has the Western approach taken away the cultural roots and community spirit of psychedelic healing, focusing instead on profit and personal gain?
Indigenous Roots: Psychedelics as a Communal Practice
Plant medicine use didn’t start in a retreat spa or from an online course. It began in forests, mountains, and deserts. It was part of cultures where using psychoactive plants was closely tied to community identity and spiritual balance.
Indigenous groups around the world have long used psychedelics like ayahuasca (Amazon), peyote (North and Central America), San Pedro cactus (Andes), and psilocybin mushrooms (Mesoamerica). They used them for connection, healing, and wisdom—not just personal breakthroughs.
These ceremonies are group events where the difference between self and society becomes unclear. Healer and writer Jeya Lenz says: “In many Indigenous traditions, psychedelic ceremonies are not about the individual experience, but about the wellbeing of the group” (Lenz, 2024). The medicine isn't for personal benefit. It helps balance people with community, land, and spirit. People don’t just get healing—they give it through stories, presence, songs, and ritual.
Respect for land, time, ancestors, and spirit guides is often key. It creates a worldview where plant medicine is one part of life. Giving back is important. If you take from the land, you must also give back. If you get healing, support others too. This ongoing connection and responsibility gives these traditions their sacred and lasting power.
The Western Wellness Model: Healing for Sale
Today's Western psychedelic retreat business often focuses on self-discovery and personal change. This might sound good at first. After all, who doesn't want to find their best self? But there's a lot of business involved.
From expensive ketamine clinics in cities to rainforest trips with yoga and crystals, the story has changed from tradition to escape. It's often sold like a spa or a life-hack. Words like “improve your mental clarity,” “find your soul purpose,” or “fix your trauma” sound more like shopping than respect for the past.
Even who can get these experiences has changed. A weekend psilocybin retreat can cost thousands of dollars. This makes this kind of "healing" a luxury. It creates a division: those who can pay for healing, and those who can't.
This approach also limits what happens after. When the retreat is over, many people go back to places without community support. Without ritual and shared reflection, the medicine experience can become just another new thing—something to consume, not something that changes you.
The Commodification of Plant Medicine
As Jeya Lenz says: “Psychedelics have become goods for sale, because we are in capitalism. We can’t get away from it” (Lenz, 2024). Psychedelics in the market—with brands, consultants, and influencers—have moved from sacred ceremony to planned experiences for rich people.
Through this change, the deep roots of plant medicine are often lost. Even worse, the communities who kept this knowledge for centuries are rarely paid or even mentioned. Cultural appropriation happens when things are sold for profit, causing more spiritual and historical harm.
When plant medicine is sold for profit, its purpose as a way for communities to grow is weakened. Healing becomes something you “buy,” not something you share in or give back to. Sacredness becomes marketing. The problem isn’t just the price—it’s losing respect for context.
Is Profit-Based Healing Intrinsically Harmful?
Not everyone who charges for psychedelic retreats or therapy means to do harm. Many providers are sincere, ethical, and trained. But there's still a basic conflict between sacred traditions and business.
“Is healing for profit always wrong?” might not be the best question. More important questions are: How is the profit used? Who benefits? Are Indigenous communities and teachers paid or recognized? How is the wisdom explained to modern people without changing or stealing it?
We can look at examples of good business—ones that put money back into communities, fix past wrongs, and make things available to more people through different pricing. Some retreat centers work with Indigenous healers, putting money back into local areas or nature.
The psychedelic healing business is in a middle area between good intentions and results. It's not about simply saying no to all paid models—it’s about asking for care, honesty, and ethics based on relationships.
Community Healing vs. Individual Breakthroughs
One of the biggest changes in psychedelic use is moving from community ritual to individual experience. For many Westerners, the psychedelic experience is private—a personal journey in their own mind.
But in traditional settings, breakthroughs were never just personal. They were seen as needed to help the larger group. Someone might use plant medicine not to find themselves—but to bring balance to their family, connect with ancestors, or do their community job better.
Science is starting to see this. New research shows that what happens after the psychedelic experience—integration—works much better in groups or with community support.
Support groups, shared stories, peer help, and community healing sessions can make the benefits of the psychedelic experience last longer. When you include others in your healing, your self-discovery becomes something that helps others too.
Lessons for the Psychedelic Retreat Industry
Psychedelic retreats, even with their problems, can show new ways of healing. Instead of copying the exclusiveness of wellness culture, they can use practices that are open to all, helpful, and based on relationships.
Some examples of alternatives
- Have group meetings before and after retreats to help people integrate
- Use sliding-scale payments to make it more affordable
- Include teachings from wise people, giving them credit
- Offer long-term support for integration
- Avoid taking instruments, symbols, or clothes without permission or understanding
By changing the focus from customer service to community service, these retreats can help change how we think about healing. The goal should be to build systems that keep supporting people after the main experience is over.
Suggestions for Plant Medicine Practitioners and Hobbyists
You don’t have to run a retreat to practice with respect. Whether you use psychedelics sometimes or microdose, your actions matter.
Here are some questions to ask yourself
- Do I know where the medicine I’m using comes from culturally?
- Have I given money to groups that protect Indigenous wisdom?
- Am I using my experience to help others, not just myself?
- Do I make the cultures where the medicine comes from seem romantic or strange?
Actions you can take: donate to cultural preservation funds, go to talks by Indigenous speakers, or simply say where your practices come from when you share them.
Small actions, done regularly, can have a big effect.
How Grow-Your-Own Can Decentralize Healing
Growing your own psilocybin or other legal medicinal mushrooms might be one of the most rebellious and spiritual things you can do now. It fights back against selling sacred medicine for profit. It also rebuilds connection and natural rhythms.
Psychedelics have always been closer to nature than business. As laws become more relaxed in some places, grow kits like those from Zombie Mushrooms let people start their own practice privately, carefully, and sustainably.
This isn't just about saving money—it’s about taking back control. When you grow your own mushrooms, you connect with their life cycle. You don't just consume—you care for them, wait, nurture. It offers a chance to reconnect with time, patience, and ritual.
Staying in Relationship With the Medicine
Keeping a respectful and aware connection with plant medicine takes ongoing work—before, during, and after the experience. This means setting clear intentions, journaling or talking about your experience afterward, and making life changes based on what you learn.
Responsibility becomes deeper when you grow your own medicine. Each mushroom that grows reminds you to be humble. See the mushroom as a teacher, not just a tool. You might find that the practice itself, even without eating them, shows you things about your surroundings, your habits, and what you need.
This care is where healing becomes deeper—not just as an event, but as a way of living.
Rebuilding Communal Psychedelic Culture
As psychedelic healing grows, we need community-based approaches that support safety, education, and mutual help. This could include
- Local integration groups meeting monthly
- Trained facilitators offering drop-in support
- Groups where people support each other to reflect and grow
- Group ceremonies with ethical rules and shared agreements
- Public education on how to reduce harm and prepare for experiences
Integration is not extra—it’s the real work of healing. The experience might open the door, but community builds the house.
Ethical Sourcing and Knowledge Sharing
Ethical sourcing is very important in a worldwide psychedelic market. For things like ayahuasca and iboga, taking them from the wild has damaged the environment and made them scarce. Always ask sellers about sustainable sources. Support businesses that help regenerate resources when you can.
Knowledge is not free. Most of what we know about these substances comes from Indigenous people. They practiced, protected, and kept sacred connections for centuries. Their knowledge and spiritual work has been key—but often ignored.
Making amends isn’t about feeling guilty. It’s about showing thanks through action. Give credit. Share your platform. Give money to groups that work with these communities. This keeps the tradition alive.
Where the Future of Psychedelic Healing Might Be Headed
The future of psychedelic healing could be big and ethical—if we listen. It might include AI tools to help with integration along with regular community talks. We might see therapists trained in both medical and ceremonial ways, or mushroom growing classes at public universities.
New psychedelic businesses must focus on relationships over money. Indigenous-run businesses, open-source tech, city gardens for mushroom growing, and group learning projects are all possible.
The key is to move as fast as trust allows—not hype.
Expanding Our View of Healing
Psychedelic healing doesn’t stop when the visions are gone. It starts with how you use what you’ve learned. Growth happens not just from inner insights, but from how those insights change your roles, your relationships, and how you come back to community with new understanding.
When we change healing into a community practice—one based on access, respect, and responsibility—we return medicine to its true purpose: a way to deeply belong.
Whether you go to a retreat, start a grow kit, host a story group, or just learn about where your medicine comes from, you are choosing to act with respect—and every action is important.
