The Summer of Psychedelics: Hope, Hype, and the Heat of Transformation

It’s hot out there. Not just weather-wise—though the sun is definitely flexing—but in the psychedelic space, too. Conference circuits are humming. Laws are shifting. Oregon’s model is a working reality (if a messy one) and Colorado’s legal delivery market is finally beginning to hum along. Facilitators in both states are out there doing the work, slowly, carefully, imperfectly. Meanwhile, investment capital is getting warmer by the minute, and everyone from podcasters to former skeptics is suddenly a psychedelic enthusiast.

Welcome to the summer of psychedelics.

There’s a lot of promise in the air. You can feel it. Something is stirring—not just in legislation or research or therapy rooms, but in the culture itself. More people are speaking openly about their experiences. More practitioners are training. More elders are stepping out of the underground to share what they’ve learned. There’s a rising belief—hope, even—that we might be building a new way of healing. Or maybe just remembering an old one.

But if summer has taught us anything, it’s that heat can burn. The same energy that ripens the fruit can also dry out the soil. The same fire that inspires transformation can also stoke illusions, inflame egos, and distract us with spectacle.

That’s the other side of this summer: the hype.

Everywhere you turn, there’s a new startup promising personalized mushroom experiences. A new documentary claiming this will change everything. A new product that turns the ineffable into a subscription box. And all of it cloaked in the language of wellness and consciousness and sacred science.

I’m not here to sneer at optimism. There’s real beauty in the way this moment is expanding. There’s space now for more people to access healing, to challenge their worldview, to explore dimensions of self and spirit that were once off-limits. That matters.

But summer also teaches discernment. Because when everything is blooming, it can be hard to see what’s invasive. When everything is growing, it can be hard to know what should be pruned.

In Chinese Medicine (my day job is a Chinese medicine physician), summer is the season of the Heart. Of connection, joy, communication. It’s when Yang is at its peak—outward, expressive, full of light. And while that brings vitality, it also brings volatility. We move fast. We sweat. We push harder than we need to. We assume growth is always good.

But the wisdom of summer is not just in expansion—it’s in recognizing that expansion needs a container. That joy needs rest. That transformation, to be sustainable, must be rooted in something deeper than trend.

So what does that mean for facilitators, practitioners, and seekers riding the current wave?

It means slowing down, even when the world says go faster. It means staying rooted in your own lineage, your own integrity, your own reasons for doing this work. It means being wary of anyone promising guaranteed outcomes or revolutionary shortcuts. It means remembering that the mushroom doesn’t care about your brand.

It also means letting yourself feel the joy. Because this is a beautiful time to be part of this movement. There’s real magic here. There’s momentum. There are more people awakening to the mystery and the medicine and the honest ache of what it means to heal. That’s worth celebrating.

But don’t confuse the sizzle for the meal. Don’t let the temperature cook your discernment. Summer is about fire, yes—but fire under control. Fire in service of ripening, not burning. Transformation, not destruction.

Because fall is coming. Always. And what you’ve grown this season will either sustain you or rot.

So enjoy the heat. Tend your garden. Celebrate what’s real. And don’t believe everything that glitters is enlightenment. Sometimes it’s just marketing with a lotus on top.