Austin, Texas, is known for keeping things weird, but last week, the city got downright trippy when 600 people descended on it to expand their minds.
There were neuroscientists and researchers, wellness gurus and biohackers, seasoned psychonauts who’d journeyed to South America to take ayahuasca with a shaman — and enough women who looked like PTA moms to staff an entire elementary school fundraiser.
They’d come for the magic mushrooms, the mind-bending molecules and the tantalizing promise of a better brain.
Welcome to the new frontier of wellness, where psychedelics are no longer just for tie-dyed hippies. Today, they’re attracting an increasingly mainstream crowd, with many betting that these once-taboo substances could be the next big thing in mental health.
“It’s astonishing to me how legitimate it looks these days,” Rick Doblin, a leading advocate in the field, told me backstage at Dave Asprey’s inaugural Beyond Psychedelics Conference, held October 12-14.
“I’m still so used to it being something that was a career ender for people, even wanting to do psychedelic research,” said Doblin, who founded the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS) in 1986.
These days, the landscape looks very different.
Major institutions, including Johns Hopkins and Mount Sinai, are investigating the potential applications of psychedelics in mental health care. Investors have poured substantial sums into the burgeoning industry, betting that these substances could help treat conditions that have proved difficult to manage with conventional approaches.
The legal barriers are shifting, too. Some states and cities have moved to decriminalize certain psychedelics, while others have established regulated pathways for therapy assisted by psilocybin, the hallucinogenic compound found in some fungi.
Even Washington is taking notice. In April, President Donald Trump signed an executive order directing federal agencies to accelerate the review of qualifying treatments for serious mental illnesses, including treatment-resistant depression and PTSD.
“This is the time for psychedelics to reemerge,” Asprey declared during his opening speech, drawing a roar of applause from attendees sipping Danger Coffee spiked with grass-fed butter and creatine.
The 52-year-old entrepreneur and bestselling author is the creator of biohacking — a movement focused on improving health, sharpening mental performance and extending longevity through everything from diet and supplements to cutting-edge technology.
Now, he’s bringing psychedelics into the mix.
“Optimization is dead,” Asprey told me, sporting his signature True Dark glasses and sci-fi rocker garb.
“What we’re doing with psychedelics is actually enhancing,” he said. “Each of them has a role, but none of them are optimizing what you’ve got — they’re giving you more.”
The question now is whether psychedelics can actually deliver on what some of these experts say — and more importantly, safely. Leading researchers I spoke with cautioned that much remains unknown about how these substances work, who stands to benefit and what risks they pose.
A journey into the industry
The psychedelics event was a smaller, more specialized offshoot of Asprey’s long-running Beyond Biohacking Conference.
Tickets started at $599 for a one-day pass, granting access to dozens of talks on emerging treatments, scientific developments and market trends. General admission attendees could also test-drive “consciousness tech” or join early-morning “wisdom circles” featuring breathwork and Indigenous rituals intended to alter consciousness without drugs.
For $1,699, VIP guests scored a two-day pass, lunches with Asprey and select speakers, and access to a luxe lounge stocked with snacks, drinks and recovery tools.
Roaming the conference, I found myself amid a sea of flowy pants, dreamcatcher earrings and tribal-print ponchos. Everyone seemed impossibly chill, eager to flash a smile — or pull me in for a hug.
But beneath the kumbaya vibes, many attendees were looking for something more serious than a good time.
“Psychedelics have liberated me,” one woman told me, an EMF-blocking necklace dangling from her neck. “They’ve helped me feel deeply connected with my authentic self, free from the stuff that gets in the way and distracts me from who I am.”
Several attendees described years of mental health struggles and deep-seated trauma that conventional treatments — from pharmaceuticals to traditional therapy — hadn’t relieved.
“When those things fail you, you feel like an exception. Like maybe everyone else can achieve health and balance and happiness, but you can’t,” said an attendee who had spent years grappling with severe PTSD after serving in the military. “Plant medicine helped me get there.”
And there is legitimate scientific interest behind the enthusiasm.
In the conference lecture halls, researchers explored whether certain psychedelic compounds, administered in controlled settings and often alongside psychological support, could help treat difficult mental health conditions — and the hurdles standing in the way.
“Part of the challenge we have as clinicians who are licensed in America is that we can only use what is federally legal,” explained Dr. David Rabin, a psychedelic-assisted therapy and clinical practice neuroscientist.
Ketamine, he noted, is one of the few drugs with psychedelic-like effects that can be legally prescribed in the US.
“It’s fantastic medicine when used with psychotherapy,” Rabin said. “We see tremendous results for PTSD and depression in particular, and to some extent ADHD and anxiety disorders.”
But he warned that the way it’s administered can make a significant difference.
“Ninety percent of the clinicians that provide ketamine right now do not deliver it with talk therapy of any kind,” Rabin said. “That means people just keep coming back and become dependent on the drug rather than learning how to heal themselves.”
Doblin said preparation and follow-up therapy are important for other substances, too, including 5-MeO-DMT, a potent psychedelic being investigated for its potential effects on mental health.
“The first time I smoked 5-MEO-DMT, I felt like I was blasted into the center of the sun,” he said.
The experience, Doblin explained, helped him recognize the possibility of personal transformation.
But these powerful substances come with risks.
They can exacerbate certain mental health conditions, interact dangerously with medications and, depending on the substance, strain the cardiovascular system. A bad trip can also trigger intense anxiety, paranoia and panic.
“The need for these substances is great — but they should still be rolled out in a careful way,” Doblin said.
Navigating the psychedelic marketplace
Between talks on mental health and higher consciousness, attendees at the conference could browse dozens of booths offering everything from psychedelic products to guided experiences.
Azul Chocolates, for instance, offered vegan, gluten-free, pesticide-free treats made with 70% organic cacao in flavors like blood orange, hibiscus and yuzu.
Packaged like something from a high-end SoHo wellness shop, the chocolates had one key ingredient missing from your average artisanal treat: psilocybin.
The listed side effects? “100% more self love, compassion, laughter and healing.”
At a nearby booth, shoppers were snapping up PLÜR Beyond Molly, soft-gel capsules and tablets containing 5-MAPB, a psychoactive designer drug that isn’t federally banned.
Voyager Labs markets the products as delivering MDMA-like euphoria and empathy, but with a “cleaner, clearer, safer” roll that’s supposedly “less neurotoxic” and has a milder comedown.
For a crowd obsessed with fitness, nutrition and wellness, the pitch was appealing: a supposedly safer way to alter consciousness, without the uncertainty of the street-drug market.
Other exhibitors focused on helping customers navigate the largely unregulated world of psychedelic experiences.
Guides Collective connects “seekers” with what it describes as “fully vetted licensed therapists, experienced facilitators, integration coaches and care providers” to help guide their experiences.
For those wary of going it alone, GC connects “seekers” with what it calls “fully vetted licensed therapists, experienced facilitators, integration coaches and care providers” to guide them through psychedelic experiences.
“Your guide shouldn’t be someone named Rainbow on Signal,” read a sign at its booth.
Representatives from luxury resorts in Costa Rica and Mexico, meanwhile, pitched psychedelic experiences in settings that include medical supervision.
“The safest place in the world to try 5-MEO-DMT,” read an advertisement for Tandava Retreats.
Expanding your mind, drug-free
For those looking to expand their minds without psychedelics, the conference highlighted other options.
“I just tripped balls,” one attendee told me after a quantum breathwork session, emerging sweaty, with tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.
It was 8:15 a.m., and she was, supposedly, stone-cold sober.
The practice uses intense, rhythmic breathing to influence the nervous system and trigger powerful physical and emotional responses. Some participants report psychedelic-like experiences, including vivid imagery and surreal, out-of-body sensations.
Attendees could also try neurofeedback training. The noninvasive approach monitors brainwave activity and translates it into visual or audio cues in real time, allowing users to practice regulating their mental states.
Over multiple sessions, the goal is to help people manage emotional triggers, become more self-aware and improve clarity, creativity and other cognitive skills.
“You don’t know what 100% is until you’ve experienced it,” said an attendee who’d been doing it for years. “But once you’ve been privy to this new, more wonderful baseline, you realize how truly transformative neurofeedback training can be.”
The new face of psychedelics
After two days among the psychonauts, what struck me most wasn’t any scientific breakthrough or grand theory of consciousness. It was the sheer range of people looking to expand theirs — and then some.
In the bathroom, I overheard a group of middle-aged women talking about the substances they planned to take to let loose at that night’s dance party.
In the lobby, men who looked like they’d just left the Financial District swapped stories about the peyote-induced hallucinations they;d endured in an effort to boost their focus and cognition.
And on a floating circular bed, a gaggle of attendees old enough for senior discounts chatted about how MDMA had revived their sex lives.
I don’t know where the future of psychedelics is headed, but one thing is clear: the scene isn’t relegated to the counterculture anymore.
“Plant medicine completely changed the course of my life,” one 85-year-old attendee told me. She took her first psychedelic trip at 78.
“When the facilitator came up to me and said, ‘What does Gale want?’ I immediately knew,” she continued. “Love. Peace. Respect. I went right home and told my husband that’s what I need.”
