I often hear that ayahuasca, mushrooms and all sorts of “consciousness expanders” are, supposedly, an initiation, a doorway into other worlds, a key to enlightenment. And alcohol? Just a way to “relax”. But isn’t there an element of infantilism hiding behind this? Isn’t it childish to look for truth in intoxication rather than face life directly?
Take ayahuasca: the jungle, a shaman, a bitter brew—and there you are on a “spiritual journey”. Or mushrooms: you eat them, see patterns, talk to “entities”. It sounds like an adventure, but what is it really? An escape. You let chemistry into your head so that it can open a door for you that you are afraid to touch yourself. It is like a child hiding behind its mother’s skirt instead of taking a step into the world. Alcohol is the same story. “I’ll have a drink to forget”—and where is the maturity in that? Any dependency, whether on a bottle or a “sacred” mushroom, is infantilism, an inability to accept reality as it is, without crutches.
Philosophers and psychologists worked this out long ago. Kant wrote: “Enlightenment is man’s emergence from his self-incurred immaturity.” Immaturity means not trusting your own reason and seeking an external push, whether it is a drug or a shot of vodka. Jung looked deeper: “A person flees into illusions so as not to encounter the shadow within.” Ayahuasca may show you dragons and light, but that is not yours—it is someone else’s performance, directed by chemistry. Frankl, who endured the hell of the camps, was even stricter: “The meaning of life is not in ecstasy, but in responsibility towards it.” Where is the responsibility if you dissolve into an “expansion of consciousness” instead of building it while sober?
The esotericist Gurdjieff struck at the same point: “Man is asleep, and most of his efforts are merely waking dreams. Awakening requires work, not potions.” He believed that genuine work on oneself means clarity and sobriety, not replacing effort with smoke or a brew. And what do those “initiated” through intoxication do? They look for a shortcut, like children who want sweets without work. But enlightenment is not a sweet; you cannot drink or eat it.
Now imagine yourself standing in the middle of life—with all its dirt, light, pain and joy. And looking straight at it, without filters or “expanders”. That is what a truly full life is: assessing reality adequately, without running away into dreams. Sobriety of mind is not boredom but strength. Kant would call it the maturity of reason. Jung, an encounter with oneself. Frankl, the discovery of meaning. Gurdjieff, awakening. And let the entities whispering in the jungle or the shot glass remain there—they have nothing to offer anyone who has already awakened.
True enlightenment is not a murky flight on the wings of a drug but the clear gaze of a sober consciousness. To live life fully is to see it without deception, to accept it without props. Infantilism drowns in intoxication; maturity shines in clarity.