“After experiments ranging over nearly fourteen years, I affirm what any man may prove at will, that there is an invariable and reliable condition (or uncondition) ensuing about the instant of recall from anaesthetic stupor to sensible observation, or ‘coming to,’ IN WHICH THE GENIUS OF BEING IS REVEALED; but because it cannot be remembered in the normal condition, it is lost altogether through the infrequency of anaesthetic treatment in any individual’s case ordinarily, and buried amid the hum of returning common-sense, under that epitaph of all illumination.
Benjamin Paul Blood, 1874 – On his use of nitrous oxide
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Preface
This essay was born out of a conversation with Ed Reither, scribe, researcher, and founder of Beezone, whose deep appreciation for Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay Circles led to a thoughtful inquiry into the nature of insight and transformation. Emerson’s words, particularly his critique of “dreams and drunkenness, the use of opium and alcohol” as “the semblance and counterfeit of this oracular genius,” resonated strongly with Ed’s reflections on the temporary yet compelling nature of psychedelic experiences.
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1841
Through his work, Ed has encountered countless individuals who, having undergone profound psychedelic experiences, believed themselves changed—only to find, in time, that the deeper structures of their personality, emotions, and behaviors remained intact. He observed how such experiences often led to the adoption of new beliefs, methodologies, and social identities, rather than a genuine transformation of being. In our discussion, he emphasized that while psychedelics may provide glimpses of higher truths, they do not, in themselves, effect the fundamental changes required for spiritual or psychological evolution.
Drawing from this perspective, this essay extends Emerson’s insight into the modern world, where psychedelic substances are increasingly embraced as tools for self-discovery and therapy. In the spirit of Emerson’s own method—circling ever outward from an initial insight into larger truths—this essay explores the illusion of psychedelic enlightenment, the distinction between momentary experience and lasting transformation, and the necessity of real, lived change over fleeting visionary states.
At its heart, this essay seeks to reaffirm Emerson’s timeless warning: that what is seen by artificial means is not owned by the soul. The true work of transformation is not in the experience, nor in the memory of it, but in the becoming.
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The Borrowed Lantern
Beezone

“That which is glimpsed by artifice is never owned by the soul. The man who drinks the wine of ecstasy and calls himself awake has only borrowed the lantern—his night remains unlit.”
here is a hunger in man that stretches beyond bread and beyond wine. It is the hunger for revelation—the thirst for an answer not given in words but in vision, in fire, in the sudden opening of the sky. And so he turns to those elixirs of the mind, those potions of dream, seeking what the sages once saw by effort and ordeal. The herbs of Hermes, the fungi of the forests, the sacred wines of the ancients—each promising a glimpse, each whispering of hidden kingdoms and forgotten wisdoms.
And they do not lie. The man who drinks the potion is indeed transported. He is given the view from the mountaintop—the grand symmetry of things, the dissolution of form, the infinite and the eternal laid bare before his awestruck eye.
But the sun that rises too quickly soon sets. The moment fades, and he is left with the memory of light, but not the light itself.
In Circles, Emerson warns:
“Dreams and drunkenness, the use of opium and alcohol are the semblance and counterfeit of this oracular genius, and hence their dangerous attraction for men.”
Here, Beezone raises a similar concern, noting that while psychedelics may provide momentary insights, they create no lasting biological, emotional, or spiritual change. What follows is not transformation, but memory—a trace of what was seen, but not a fundamental shift in being.
The Seduction of Borrowed Fire
“A thousand visions, a thousand awakenings—but the house of the soul remains as it was, its walls unshaken, its doors unmoved.”
The illusion of progress is the greatest danger of the psychedelic path. Beezone observes that while seekers claim transformation, what often follows is only the adoption of new methods, new philosophies, new personal mythologies—yet the deep personality, the self at its root, remains untouched.
This is the danger of the semblance of wisdom.
Emerson writes:
“Our moods do not believe in each other. Today I am full of thoughts and can write what I please. I see no reason why I should not have the same thought, the same power of expression, tomorrow. What I write, whilst I write it, seems the most natural thing in the world; but yesterday I saw a dreary vacuity in this direction in which now I see so much.”
The mind, in its altered state, believes itself to have broken free—yet when it returns to the familiar world, it finds itself the same as before. The insight does not remain. It is not owned, only borrowed.
“Psychedelics are not deception, but neither are they wisdom. They are the semblance of insight—the flash of lightning, not the steady sun.”
The Mirage of Transformation
“No alchemy is wrought in the depths of the mind by the mere passing of visions. The river may reflect the sky, but it does not become it. The man may see the light, but if he does not kindle it within himself, he remains in darkness.”
Beezone has observed that many who follow the psychedelic path become wanderers of philosophy, architects of belief, collectors of meaning. They take up new words, new symbols, new identities—draping themselves in borrowed significance—while the deeper patterns of self remain untouched.
Emerson echoes this in Circles:
“People wish to be settled; only as far as they are unsettled is there any hope for them.”
Yet psychedelics often create the illusion of settling—a new framework of belief that comforts, but does not challenge. Instead of deep transformation, the seeker merely reorganizes his thoughts, adopting new language, a new lens—but never questioning the one who sees.
“What is this, if not a postponement of real transformation?”
The path of true awakening is not found in drunkenness, nor in ecstasy, nor in a single night of divine intoxication. It is not found in the momentary opening of the eye, but in the long labor of learning how to see.
Emerson speaks of this work, stating:
“Life is a series of surprises, and would not be worth taking or keeping if it were not. To-morrow calls for something else than repetition of to-day.”
To live by the memory of an insight—to repeat an experience in hopes of reclaiming its truth—is to resist the real labor of change.
“The flower does not bloom by dreaming of the sun—it must break the earth, rise from the dark, drink the rain, and endure the wind.”
The Forgotten Work
“And so the man returns, again and again, to the substance that once showed him the light. But with each return, he finds less of what he seeks. For the lantern is not his own. The fire belongs to another.”
The true work of transformation is not in seeking, but in becoming. Beezone has rightly pointed out that psychedelics can serve as an opening, but if one relies upon them, they become a crutch that prevents true movement.
Emerson understood this, writing:
“Every ultimate fact is only the first of a new series.”
The man who has seen must now become. Not in **thought, nor in proclamation, nor in fleeting vision—but in the weight of his days, in the movement of his heart, in the steady and unshakable fire that does not flicker with each passing wind.
“That which is seen for a moment must be earned for a lifetime. The true man of wisdom does not drink from the well of visions but walks to the source of the river itself.”
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